Mr. Darcy Broke My Heart

by Beth Pattillo

  “I know.” And I did. And in that moment I also knew that since the death of my parents, I had acted as a sort of Formidable in my own right. I had done my best to protect my parents’ legacy, to shelter Missy from the fallout of their deaths, and to keep our family together. But now it was time to let go. Perhaps I had more in common with Jane Austen than I would have ever guessed.

  “Good-bye.” I didn’t offer her my hand, since hers were occupied with the manuscript.

  “Good-bye, Miss Prescott.” She nodded regally. “I hope you have a safe journey home.”

  “Thank you. You too,” I said, and then I turned and walked away, knowing that Harriet would be pleased and that I had finally done the right thing.

  I was waiting outside Tom Tower for my taxi when I saw Martin coming down St. Aldate’s.

  “Claire. I had hoped to see you again before you left.” He smiled and reached for my hand. “I will miss you.”

  “Me too.” I stepped forward and gave him an impulsive hug. “So much has happened.” I trailed off, not sure how much to say. “I just want to thank you for your help.”

  “Ah, yes, the mysterious pages.” His eyes twinkled in their usual way.

  “And what you said in the seminar yesterday too. About Jane Austen. It really helped.”

  He smiled. “I don’t suppose you’d tell me the truth about those pages.”

  I smiled, too, but shook my head. “You were the one who said Oxford was full of secrets.”

  He laughed. “Yes, but I didn’t mean that you should keep them from me.” He took my hand in his. “I wish you all the best, Claire.”

  “And I wish the same for you.” I squeezed his hand. “You know, there ’s something else I’ve been meaning to ask you.”

  “Yes?”

  “I guess I was just wondering why you would come to a seminar like this. James said you were one of the leading Austen scholars in the world. Why hang out with a bunch of amateurs?”

  He released my hand. “Do you know what the word amateur means? Literally?”

  I shook my head.

  “It means one who loves.”

  “One who loves?”

  “I came here to be with people who read Jane Austen simply for the love of it. Not for academic reasons. Not for profit. Merely for the joy of her stories and her language.”

  “Oh.” I hadn’t thought of that. “So you came here for the fun of it?”

  He laughed. “Precisely.” And then his expression grew more serious. “You should come back next year. For the same reason.”

  I nodded. “Maybe I will.” How long had it been since I’d done something just for the fun of it?

  My taxi pulled up to the curb, and I reached for my suitcase. “Good-bye, Martin. I hope we meet again.”

  “Good-bye, Claire. I do too.”

  The driver loaded my suitcase into the taxi, and I slid inside. Here I was, right where I’d begun.

  So much had happened in one short week. So much had changed. I’d never expected an adventure. Never wanted a challenge. But now I was so glad that I had found both. And I was even happier that I had proved to be worthy of them.

  The departure lounge at Heathrow was full by the time I arrived. I glanced around, hoping to spot an empty seat, when I saw a familiar-looking Royals cap that had definitely seen better days.

  Neil.

  It couldn’t be. But it was.

  My first instinct was to hide, but obviously we were going to be on the same plane for a lot of hours. Plus, with my luck, he would have the seat next to me. I might as well face the inevitable.

  I walked over to him and set down my carry-on.

  “Hey,” I said. “I thought you left yesterday.”

  “Hey,” he replied and rose to his feet. “I was on standby and couldn’t get on, so they put me up in a hotel for the night.”

  I would have liked to delude myself into thinking that he ’d purposely manipulated matters so that we were on the same plane home, but I knew better.

  We stood there in silence for several long, uncomfortable moments.

  “I’m sorry.” I took a step backward. “I didn’t mean to disturb—”

  “What did you want, Claire?” He shoved his hands into the pockets of his khaki shorts.

  You, I wanted to say. I want you. But if I actually said those words… well, I didn’t think they would be too well received.

  “I just wanted to apologize one more time. For everything.”

  He took off the cap and scratched the back of his head. His hair stood on end in unaccustomed disorder. “You did that already. In Oxford.”

  “I know, but—”

  How’s James?

  The question caught me off guard. “James? He’s—”

  “Rich? Good looking? A big improvement over a jock like me?”

  His words hit me like a blow, and I winced, not so much from their power but from the realization that he was very, very angry. He slammed the cap back on his head.

  “Sorry, Claire. I shouldn’t have said that. No matter what’s happened between us.” He let out a gusty sigh. “I knew all along I wasn’t the right man for you. Guess I thought if I ignored it, then it wouldn’t be true.”

  “But—”

  “James is a lucky guy. Tell him I said so.” He fixed his gaze on a spot somewhere over my shoulder.

  “Neil—”

  His face softened a little. “I’ll be okay, Claire. So will you.”

  Which wasn’t true, of course. Well, it might have been true for him, but it definitely wasn’t true for me.

  “Neil, wait—”

  He shook his head. “I already have, Claire. For a lot longer than I should have.”

  “I know.” I stepped toward him, wishing I still had the right to reach for his hand. To hold it in mine. Although at that moment I would have done a lot more clutching than holding. “I’ve been an idiot,” I said, and tears stung my eyes.

  He smiled, but his expression was filled with sadness, not humor. “That makes two of us.” He hesitated, as if he wanted to say something else. That hesitation lit a very fragile flame of hope in the space where my heart had been.

  It was time to swallow whatever pride I had left. “I thought you should know that I realize I made a huge mistake.”

  His chin lifted several inches. “What kind of mistake?”

  “Well, more than one mistake, of course, but the biggest one was this.” I reached into my pocket and pulled out the box that held the engagement ring. I opened it, and it sparkled under the fluorescent lighting.

  Neil scowled. “Thanks a lot, Claire.”

  “No, no. You don’t understand.” Alarm and adrenaline flooded through me. “The mistake wasn’t you.” I stopped and swallowed in an effort to get the words past the lump in my throat. “The mistake was not realizing how much I love you.”

  I couldn’t believe I had actually said the words, but judging from the expression on his face, I must have. I saw disbelief. Comprehension. Confusion. Anger. And then the very faintest beginning of what I’d been hoping for, what I’d been longing to see.

  Joy. The tiniest spark, deep in his eyes.

  “Claire—” The word held a warning note.

  “Wait. Let me say the whole speech.”

  “You prepared a speech?”

  “I didn’t sleep much last night.”

  “All right. Let’s hear it.”

  “I blamed you.” Okay, maybe not the best start, but at least I was trying. Neil made a half-strangled noise but didn’t say anything. I screwed up my courage and continued.

  “You weren’t anything like what I thought a hero should be, even though you were everything I wanted. Well, almost everything. I still thought something was missing. It was easier to blame you for spending too much time watching ball games and taking me for granted than to deal with my own problems, to accept that you got tired of making plans and my canceling them so I could go running over to Missy’s house.”

&nbs
p; The joy began to drain out of his face, so I rushed headlong into the final part of my speech.

  “Then, when I met James in Oxford, I thought he was the man I’d been waiting for. A hero right out of Austen. The one who would finally make everything okay. Only he wasn’t real.” I wiped away the tears that swam in my eyes. “Like Austen’s characters, he was just fiction. Mr. Darcy broke my heart.”

  Neil took a step toward me, but I held up a hand to stop him.

  “I didn’t know love could be soft and subtle and still be strong as steel,” I said. “I kept waiting for the grand entrance, the fireworks, and the trumpet fanfare. I didn’t know it could be like this.” And then I stepped toward him. I placed my hands gently on either side of his face. He hadn’t shaved in a while, and his cheeks were rough beneath my fingers.

  I kissed him and held my breath at the same time. The combination of his lips and my lack of oxygen weakened my knees. I swayed. His arms came up to catch me and then enfolded me.

  “Claire—”

  “I know you can’t forgive me.” I sagged against him, grateful for that one last moment of his body pressed against mine. “I wouldn’t expect you to. I just wanted you to know that… well, that I know. Now. That I figured out the difference. Even if it is too late.”

  I pushed against his chest, eager to make my getaway now that I’d delivered my speech. But his arms tightened, and suddenly I couldn’t catch my breath even when I was trying.

  “What makes you think it’s too late?” He practically growled the words in my ear. I closed my eyes and tried to pretend that I hadn’t heard them.

  “But you said—”

  “You’re not the only one who can be a fool.”

  He kissed me then. A kiss worthy of every incarnation of Mr. Darcy that ever existed, whether on the page, stage, or screen. If he hadn’t been holding me up, I would have melted into a puddle right there in the departure lounge.

  “June 3,” I murmured against his lips. He drew his head back.

  “What?”

  “June 3. It was my parents’ anniversary.”

  He eyed me with caution. “So?”

  “I think it should be our anniversary too.”

  He was silent for a long time, and my heart rate, which had slowed a little, now accelerated again. Maybe I had misunderstood. Maybe he couldn’t forgive me after all. Maybe—

  “Do you even know what day of the week it falls on next summer?”

  “It’s on a Saturday. I checked. Although that gives me less than a year to plan the wedding.”

  “You already looked at a calendar?”

  I nodded.

  I stepped back and glanced down at the engagement ring, the box still cupped in my hand. “Unless, of course, you want this back.”

  He nodded. “I do want it back.”

  My stomach tightened in a knot, but then he took the box from me, took the ring out of it, and reached for my left hand. “Claire, will you marry me?”

  At my tearful nod, he slid the ring on my finger.

  “I’m no Mr. Darcy,” he whispered, and he pulled me back into his arms. “I’ll still watch way too many ball games and feed you takeout.”

  I laughed. “I know. And I’ll still run sometimes, at the drop of a hat, when Missy needs me.”

  He smoothed back the strands of hair that had fallen across my cheek. “The most important thing is that I’ll be here. I’m not going anywhere.”

  I chuckled. “Actually, you are.” I am?

  “Yes,” I said, and I kissed him again. “You’re going home with me.”

  He laughed. “I think it’s about time.” And he was right. It was.

  Author’s Note

  Jane Austen wrote the original version of Pride and Prejudice, called First Impressions, by the time she was twenty-one. It was only years later, when she finally settled at Chawton with her mother and sister, that she returned to the manuscript and rewrote it in the form we have today. That much is true.

  The Formidables and their secrets are entirely a product of my imagination, but it’s not beyond the realm of possibility that Austen’s lost manuscript might one day come to light. The version of First Impressions in this novel is, of course, entirely fictional.

  Reading Group Guide

  Claire Prescott realizes that she has put her sister first in everything because she has been afraid to live her own life. At what point does sacrificing for the people we love become more hurtful than helpful? How do we know when we have crossed that line? How can we restore those relationships to a healthier balance?

  The plot of the novel revolves around the keeping of secrets. How do you know when to keep a secret and when to share it? What are the risks of keeping secrets? What are the benefits?

  When she arrives in Oxford, Claire decides to recreate herself. To do so, though, she must deceive the people she meets. Do you think it’s understandable that she would fall prey to this temptation? What price does she pay for her duplicity?

  In the end, do you think Claire gave Harriet the right advice about what to do with the manuscript? Why or why not? If you had been in Harriet’s place, what decision would you have made?

  In recent years, Mr. Darcy has truly become an iconic romantic hero. Do you think he is a true hero? Why or why not? If you had been Claire, would you have chosen James or Neil? In your estimation, what makes a man a hero?