THAT SAME MOMENT
IN PARIS
“You’re unstoppable. Don’t you ever get tired?”
If one had to guess who said those words, one would probably believe it was Terry begging Fanny to slow down. However, it was the contrary; Fanny was getting everything she had wished for, and more. A lot more.
“How could I ever get tired of you?”, he answered with a lazy smile, propping up on an elbow to look into her eyes. “And after all I went through to be with you, I think I’m not letting you away from this bed for a week.”
She had no problem with that. During the last day (and night), they had only left the bed for brief intervals, and only to grab a bite or go to the bathroom. Other than that, the surprisingly insatiable Terry had only allowed Fanny out of his embrace when she had insisted on calling Bobby to find out why Nat hadn’t returned to the apartment. Bobby had called her back to inform that the Professor was with Nat and Darcy in London, and would contact Fanny and Terry soon.
Fortunately, it hadn’t been too soon.
“Okay, but if we’re staying one week in this bed, I need real food and a real shower.” She gave him a peck on the lips and stood up. She was making them pancakes with strawberries and Nutella. Nat might kill her when she returned to the apartment and found her favorite dessert missing, but Fanny was on the verge of starvation and they’d eaten all other snacks.
“So pancake’s real food now?” He left the bed too, not worrying to wear anything. Why bother? They’d go back to do things that didn’t require clothing soon.
“Well, at least it’s full of carbs and sugar. Should be enough to keep me going for a few more hours.” She didn’t put anything on either. It almost annoyed her how quickly they were getting comfortable around each other. Almost.
“Just a few more hours?” He moved behind her, putting his hands on her hips, kissing her shoulders, then the side of her neck, then her ear, then… What was she doing again?
“Can you please let me make these pancakes? If you let me, I’ll let you have some Nutella on them”, Fanny bargained.
“Why should I want Nutella on pancakes if I can have them on your tasty skin?”
Fanny was frozen with his suggestion, and Terry didn’t miss a beat; he took a spoonful of Nutella and spread it on her right shoulder, licking it slowly off her skin right afterwards.
“Oh, that’s good”, Fanny was definitely enjoying this serious relationship thing with Terry. “But I can do better.”
She then applied the Nutella exactly where the readers’ dirty minds think she did, licking it off most thoroughly, making Terry moan loudly. So loudly, he scared the people who’d been watching them, discreetly waiting for the couple to stop rock and rolling so they could take them to London.
“Are you all right?!” Claude had withdrawn his weapon, alert for any possible threat against this new couple.
The Professor had ordered him to get both of them on his private plane as soon as possible, but he had, for the first time, refused to comply with the man’s orders. There was no way Claude would interrupt those people’s endless intimacy. Not even for the Professor. Little did he know that, by intruding into the apartment because of a possible attack, he’d done just that.
“Get the hell out!”, the male told him. Claude noticed, dumbfounded, the female had not yelled at him as well because her mouth was full.
“Mon Dieu!” Claude never used French in front of Americans or British, one of his boss’ strict rules. But even the Professor would have forgiven his slip in a time such as that.
“You’re still staring, dude!” Had Terry not been in that sensible situation, that guy would see what he was made of. “GET OUT!”
Claude left the apartment and closed the door, but he explained from the hall. “I beg your pardon, Detective! I was sent by the Professor to escort you both to his jet.”
“Wait! Like a private jet?” The woman asked, but the detective interrupted her.
“That doesn’t explain why you burst in, dude!” The detective sounded like he was about to explode. And not the good kind of explosion either. “Why didn’t you just knock? Isn’t that a concept you’ve heard of in France?”
“I beg your pardon, sir. I’ve been waiting for quite a while, and when I heard you scream, I thought–”
“You’ve been waiting?” If it was possible, the man sounded even angrier. “Where have you been waiting?”
“I-I… Just where I am now. In the hallway to the apartment.” Claude was anxious. What if the man opened the door and attacked him, forcing him to hurt the detective while defending himself? That would displease the Professor, he was certain. He’d have to calm the man down. Now.
“And how long have you been there?” Now it was the woman who asked. She didn’t sound mad, though. Actually, Claude noticed amusement in her tone.
“Hummm… About twenty hours?” He hated having to deal with the Professor’s clients, always preferring to stick with the stakeout part.
“And why the hell didn’t you knock?” Again, even though her words might sound harsh, she sounded like she was finding the situation funny.
“I-I have been waiting for you to… take a break”, Claude managed to answer the question in a polite manner.
Suddenly, something totally unexpected happened. The woman laughed. “I told you we should’ve turned the music on, Terry! And you said nobody was listening!” She laughed some more. The guy kept quiet, but she said, this time to Claude, “It’s fine, sir. We’ll keep you waiting no longer!”
♥
ELEVEN HOURS IN LONDON
ANOTHER SECRET LOCATION
Nat
We’d had what Darcy liked to call “husband and wife intimacies” three times last night. And two other that morning. Altogether, they had been the best dot-dot-dot experiences in my life.
I should be ecstatic. I should be happily exhausted. I should be thankful my skin would be awesome for at least a month. I should be bragging to Fanny about my sexapade. Instead, I felt miserable.
Darcy and I were having brunch that morning when the phone rang. Darcy freaked out, believing it meant there was an emergency. He took me in his arms and left our-slash-his room yelling “FIRE!!!” before I could explain what was going on.
Back home, we didn’t have a landline, since we all had cell phones and the bookstore phone drove us mad during the day. There weren’t any phones in the Parisian apartment neither, considering the Professor didn’t want us calling to anyone. He knew that, had we wanted to, we could have used a pay phone on the street. He didn’t want us to feel tempted, though.
So, Darcy had experienced many weeks in our century without ever listening to the irritating sound of a big phone machine blasting noise against our eardrums. The result was no different than the one back in the Louvre: Darcy got desperate to save me. And he broke two vases and knocked out a poor maid in order to do that.
Funny as it may sound, it was during our “escape” that I noticed, for the first time, where we were. When we’d arrived at the Professor’s townhouse in London, I was so tired and so worried about the whole Darcy-going-back-home situation, I didn’t really notice what everything looked like. Now, I realized this Professor guy was even richer than I’d anticipated: his townhouse was actually a four-store building, with marble floors, elegant antique furniture, and rare art.
In his desperation to leave the house immediately, believing we were in imminent danger, Darcy passed through many rooms I’d like to have explored; a library that smelled of old books, a smoking room that looked like it was furnished with pieces from Darcy’s time, and an eighteenth-century French style golden and pink drawing room. He stopped abruptly in the hall, right in front of the main door.
“Mr. Darcy, Miss Estevez Brown. Good morning”, the Professor wished us merrily, as if I was not in my underwear and Darcy was not shirtless and holding me wi
th scary eyes. He was holding his cell phone against his ear, and a cigar between his fingers. He was standing in front of the door casually, in black sweatpants and red T-shirt. “I am truly sorry you didn’t sleep well, but we need to–”
“Good morning to you too, sir”, Darcy was already flushed, and his tone was colder than anytime he’d spoken to the Professor in the past. “Might I inquire how exactly you know we have not slept well?”
Had he seriously just asked the guy that? “The entire household heard how unwell you and Miss Estevez Brown slept, Mr. Darcy.” Darcy had totally deserved that one from the Professor.
“I must ask you to be discreet, sir.” He was as red as pepper now. How could Darcy be such a hypocrite?
“Darcy, are you serious?” I had to intervene. “Look at us! We’re not in the position of demanding any discretion from the Professor!”
That’s when Darcy realized what we were wearing. “Don’t worry, lad”, the Professor assured him. “You still have about half an hour to have a shower and get ready.”
“Get ready?”, I answered.
“Yes”, He said calmly. “Travis has finally finished rebuilding the time travel machine. We’re taking you there now, Mr. Darcy.”
I could swear I felt a piece of my heart being ripped out.
♥
“Mr. Ethan Brown instructed us to give you letters for you to read once you were safely in the lab, Mr. Darcy”, the Professor said from the front seat.
Darcy’s head was somewhere else, and his heart was focused on the woman whose hand was enveloped in his. How could he go back to Pemberley, to his friends, to Georgiana, after everything he’d lived and done? How could he meet a woman now, get engaged with her, marry her, have children with her, if the woman he wanted to do all those things with was right by his side, in this century?
“Darcy?”, Nat was looking at him with concern in her eyes. The first thing he saw that morning were those beautiful green eyes. He wished he could see them every morning. “Are you alright?” He shook his head at her; he was everything but fine.
“Do not worry, Mr. Darcy”, the Professor was staring at him too from the front seat. His tone was much softer now. Darcy noticed the car had stopped in front of a mirrored building. “Ethan’s instructions are very precise; they’ll guide you through the process.”
“Where are we?”, Nathalie wanted to know. Two men in black and holding rifles approached their vehicle, and each opened a door.
“We’re in one of my facilities. We’re fifteen kilometers out of London. Or, to you Miss Nathalie, about ten miles.” The Professor then left the car, and so did Nathalie, but Darcy remained where he was.
“Darcy?” Nathalie was holding back tears. It was clear she was hurting as much as he was. No. He could not do it.
“Mr. Darcy”, the Professor took Nathalie’s place by the backseat door. “I know you are having second guesses now, but you must return. You must go to May, 1813.”
The date got Darcy’s attention. “1813? But when I left the nineteenth century, it was 1811. And I have been here for a couple of months only. How is it that I must return to 1813?”
Instead of answering right away, the Professor put something in Darcy’s hand. Darcy stared at it and saw it was a letter. From Ethan. “Read it now”, the Professor ordered, and closed the door of the vehicle.
Darcy observed him say something to Nathalie, then both of them walked toward the building, while their driver stood outside the car.
He read the letter and, as the Professor had promised, it did explain what he must do in great detail. He would have to leave Nathalie. He would have to go back to the nineteenth century.
♥
TWENTY NINE HOURS IN LONDON
STILL IN A SECRET LOCATION
He had looked back once. That was all Nathalie had earned as she had seen Darcy cross the portal. It had happened over twelve hours ago, but she was still crying. She could feel the scientists – Ethan’s team – looking at her sideways, feeling terrible for her; at least, they’d left her alone.
The Professor had shown consideration as well; he wouldn’t speak to her, or ask her if she was okay. That would have made her punch him. No, he’d just bring her something to drink when her throat was dry, or something for her to eat, even though she felt sick to her stomach. But she’d eaten the tuna sandwich he’d brought anyway.
“What’s your name? Your real name?”, she blurted out when the Professor put a cup of hot chocolate in her freezing hands. She wasn’t cold; her body was simply too sad and tired to warm itself up.
He gave her a half smile, “I am–”
“Nat?!” Someone called behind them. Someone Nathalie had known forever. “NATHALIE!”
Fanny held her best friend so tight Nat almost spilled hot chocolate all over her. The Professor took the cup from her to avoid accidents.
“You bitch!” Fanny was in tears. “I was scared to death!”
“I’m here.” Nat was so distressed she couldn’t even bring herself to smile at Fanny. Her friend, as usual, immediately noticed something very serious was going on.
Nat found out, at that moment, she needed someone – not just someone; her best friend – to talk to. To tell about her feelings, about what had happened between her and Darcy, about the truth of Darcy’s identity and when her brother had gone to. Fanny hadn’t asked anything. Not even once. She just listened and listened. Never judging, never accusing. That was why Nat knew she could always count on Fanny. “So now, I’m just waiting for Ethan to return, and it’s making me nuts, Fanny”, Nat finished.
“It’s making you nuts because a part of you wished Darcy’d return, Nat.” Yes, Fanny knew her very well. And that desire was making her feel terrible. She should be eager to see her brother again; and she was! Ethan belonged when she was, while Darcy belonged in the nineteenth century!
Still, she really wanted to see him once more. Their farewell had been too quick, too painful. He had kissed her once, passionately. The Professor had left them in an empty room that looked like a depot, informing them they had five minutes.
“I love you, Nat”, he had told her. “I love you now, and I’ll love you two hundred years ago.”
He had then left her and gone to the portal.
Everything in that room had gone quiet ever since. Even the talkative Trevor seemed to be too distant to notice his surroundings.
“I want him back, Fanny”, she admitted. “How horrible am I? To wish for him to return and not my own brother?”
Fanny was about to say something to comfort her, when Trevor interrupted their conversation, “Someone is coming back through!”
She saw him before he saw her. Nat went on her knees and cried. She cried for a long time. She cried while he held her in his arms, telling her all was right now. She loved the man that was holding her dearly; still, she couldn’t stop crying for the man she also loved, the one who was now in 1813, and would never return to her. How could someone be so happy and defeated at the same time?
After many minutes, Nat glanced up at the portal. It showed nothing but the other side of the room now. It was over, then.
He was forever lost to her.
♥
From Manhattan
to Pemberley
WILL BE RELEASED IN 2018!
From Pemberley to Manhattan Page 23