I look frantically at my phone. It's already 4:35. I have less than two and a half hours to get ready for what could potentially be the biggest date of my life.

I don't think about the complexities of dating a guy from a different world to me. I don't think about how we've only known each other for a really short time or about him being my tutor (well, the semester's practically over, anyway). In fact, I don't really think at all. I just know that I want to see him.

First I need to solve the clothing dilemma. My green silk top and jeans are not the kind of outfit I'd normally wear to a fancy French restaurant... Who am I kidding? I've never been to a fancy French restaurant! But I have a pretty good idea of what I should wear to a fancy French restaurant and I've only packed for a long weekend – I don't exactly have a lot of options with me.

I give my floral skirt the once-over. It's kind of wrinkled but it might pass. I could borrow an iron from Mrs Reynolds. But what would I wear with it?

Suddenly I remember the red dress that I bought at the markets during my first day at Pemberley. I breathe a sigh of relief as I retrieve it and hold it up. It's perfect.

If only I could say the same about my shoes. My ballet flats really don't work with this dress. But if I don't wear them, I'll have to choose between my thongs (or flip flops as Americans would say), or my Nike sneakers. And at least the ballet flats are pretty.

I tell Georgie that I've got an important appointment to get to and she offers to lend me her car. She doesn't interrogate me like I was expecting, but there's a somewhat knowing look in her eyes.

"Hey, do you want to borrow a pair of shoes?" she asks tactfully. "That dress looks great but it really needs a nice pair of heels to dress it up. I think we're probably around the same size…"

I don't need any further encouragement. A quick comparison proves that Georgie and I are around the same foot size and she's more than happy to help me pick out the right pair.

"How about the silver stilettos?" she asks, a dreamy look coming into her eyes. "I bought them when I was in Paris a few years ago. So expensive but totally worth it."

I cringe slightly at the high, skinny heels. "Do you have anything… uh, easier to walk in?"

Georgie frowns slightly. "Well, you don't want to go too short," she muses out loud as she scans her collection. "How about these?"

The black platform wedges don't look right either.

We finally agree upon a pair of elegant taupe suede pumps that make my legs look longer. They're feminine and I don't feel like I'm going to break an ankle wearing them. Score!

I slip my feet into them and do an experimental walk down the hallway.

Georgie nods approvingly and then offers to do my makeup as well. She's clearly figured out that it's a date, not just any important appointment. Does she know it's with her brother? I can only speculate.

"Have fun!" she says coyly as I get into her car. She knows, doesn't she? She must.

I steal another glance at the time. 6:15 already? Where has the time gone?

But I know the restaurant is only supposed to be half an hour away, so I'm not worried. At least I'm not worried until I notice that the car is starting to lean slightly to the left.

"No, no, no," I groan, instinctively knowing something is wrong. To be on the safe side, I pull over at the petrol station just ahead, where a middle-aged man sympathetically informs me that the front left tyre is practically flat.

"I have a phone if you need to call someone," he offers.

"That's OK. I have a phone," I say. Unfortunately I don't have Darcy's number. But I do have Georgie's.

"Oops. I had a feeling I was forgetting something," she says repentantly, admitting that Darcy had warned her that her left tyre needed pumping.

"I'm sorry, Ellie. Listen, I don't want to wreck your night any further by making you wait for NRMA. I'll call a taxi and wait with the car. Meanwhile… you can't be that far from the restaurant. Can you manage to walk? If not, I'll drop you off – it's just that I don't know what time the taxi will get here."

I eye my heels sceptically, but Georgie's right – I can see the restaurant just a few blocks away. Reluctantly I get out of the car, leave the car with the friendly service attendant, and start walking.


A smartly uniformed chauffeur is waiting for them; holding up a large unmissable sign that reads 'Charles Bingley.'

"So I guess we're not taking the London Underground," Jenna joked. "So much for showing me how London locals really live."

Charlie has the grace to look sheepish. "Well, it's been a long flight and I thought you could do with some pampering."

"Me or you?" Jenna teases, a smirk on her face. "It's the trauma of having to fly economy, isn't?"

At that moment, it begins to rain and Jenna hastily scrambles into the waiting car. It's Charlie's turn to smirk, but he refrains from making any comments.

"So how are we actually going to find Mary and Johnny?" Jenna wonders out loud.

"I have connections," Charlie says calmly. "Through my dad, anyway. You can concentrate on having fun and enjoying London, and we'll be kept posted about Mary and Johnny."

"You make it sound like you have ties to the Mafia or something," Jenna comments warily.

Charlie laughs. "Sorry, baby. But without bragging too much, let's just say that if Mary and Johnny are in London, I'm confident we'll find them."

"In that case," Jenna says brightly, "I vote we go to Harrods."


Everything looks closer when you're driving, doesn't it? It takes longer than I expected to walk to the restaurant and I take the occasional break to make sure I don't get a blister or sweat inside Georgie's heels. Making it to the front door feels like a major victory. It takes a supreme amount of effort not to pick up the jug of water at the counter and down it all in one gulp.

"Table for two?" the waiter asks pleasantly although I'm clearly alone. I guess Genevieve's isn't the type of place you eat at solo.

"Yes… that is, I'm actually here to meet someone."

"Is your companion already here?"

"I'm not sure," I admit, peering into the dining room. It's fairly crowded and there are a number of dark-haired men in expensive suits. But none of them are on their own.

"He might have booked a table – Mr Darcy?"

There's no flicker of recognition in the waiter's eyes. "I'm sorry, miss, I don't believe we have any reservations under that name tonight."

I swallow. Darcy wouldn't have just stood me up, would he? How late is it, anyway?

When I finally look at my watch, I cringe. Clearly the whole car debacle had taken longer than I thought. It's 7:25.

I'm too late. Darcy's obviously given up on me already.

My heart sinks slowly as I remember Darcy's exact words in the letter. I'll be waiting there at 7pm. But if you're not there, I'll understand. And I'll never bother you again.

"Would you like a menu, miss?" asks the attentive waiter at my elbow.

I shake my head slowly. The only thing I want is long gone.


Author's Note: Well, I guess that's the end of Darcy and Ellie. it was a nice idea while it lasted, wasn't it? *Ducks to avoid all the rotten tomatoes being hurled by angry readers* No! I didn't mean that! I'm sorry!

If you need some happily ever after whilst Ellie and Darcy get their act together, check out my modern Emma story "Symmetry". It's already complete but I'd still love to know what you think of it. Until the next chapter! ;)