His uncle's ranch is, in all fairness, a charming little place at first sight. The porch and the windows and the roofing shout small town USA, and a manageable part-time staff of a grand total of two people keep the place decently inhabitable. The actual ranch itself is a pleasant distance from the house, leaving Darcy mostly alone with his laptop, and his notebook, and his thoughts.
And it doesn't take long for Darcy to realize, to his great annoyance, that the ranch is as charming and rustic as it is inconceivably boring.
He should have known, really. Not a single one of the Ftizwilliam clan's numerous properties ever have a soul.
"Is there a shop, a mall, a theater - anything around here?" He yells ten days in.
"There's a town a little further down, sir," Bob and his overalls answer, complete with the cowboy hat.
"How far down?"
"Two hours, sir."
Darcy pushes against it for another two days - and gives in.
He stuffs his laptop and minimal earthly goods into his backpack, tosses said backpack into the pick-up truck that came with the ranch, and drives away towards the world's most ironically named town: Rusterville.
Bob didn't lie.
Two hours away really is two hours away - two hours of soulless, flat land without a single soul in sight.
And when the sign on the side of the highway finally says Rusterville, 20 miles, Darcy is ready to greet anyone he meets with a deep bow and a promise of lifelong friendship.
"Welcome to the Cuppa!" A breezy female voice calls out when he saunters in the first establishment he pulls up in town - that isn't a gas station.
He takes in the obviously misnamed coffee shop. Rustic shelves line the sides, more paint chipped off than actually on. Every shelf displays a wild variety of coffee cups, tea cups, and strange metal mugs. The bar is tiny, the tables small and eclectic in a way that screams practicality more than high fashion.
It's charming and rustic in an entirely different way from the picture-perfect Fitzwilliam family ranch. And for a tiny, fleeting moment, Darcy feels almost silly for having ever considered the ranch an accurate representation of country life.
"Hi there! You look new around here," the female voice chirps up again. "Any way I can help you, sir?"
Darcy draws his eyes to the young lady behind the counter.
Her answering gaze almost freezes him to his spot.
"I - " he stutters, suddenly unsure where or why he is where he is.
"Do you want a cup of coffee?" She offers, outpacing his words three dozen to one. Her high ponytail of chocolate brown hair bobs behind her when she talks. Her smile brightens the room almost as thoroughly as her eyes do.
"One coffee, please," he manages before wandering up to the bar.
"Here you go." She has his drink poured out and served before he even reaches the counter. She's still smiling. It's almost jarring how much she smiles. "Do you want a pastry with that?"
Darcy blinks.
She is cheerful, in a rundown country café. She is smiling, at a total stranger.
There seems to be no possibility whatsoever that this person is real.
"May I use the restroom?" He asks lamely, figuring he needs a good splash of water straight on the face.
"Out this door and just to the right." She points down the tiny hallways in the already tiny space.
"I - thank you." Darcy nods.
"You're welcome!"
He follows her directions and squeezes into the almost home-style powder room for some much needed relief and the aforementioned splash of water. He checks his reflection in the framed mirror.
Satisfied, he sneaks back in to the main shop with a slow and careful tread.
"Got everything you needed?" Miss Incredibly Chipper smiles at him, ponytail whipping, when he gets close.
"Yes, thank you." He slides on a metal barstool and reaches for his coffee.
"Milk and sugar?"
"Black."
"Alright then." She smiles brightly at him before turning to wipe what he now notices to be a long line of coffee mugs.
Are there even enough people in this town to drink that much coffee?
"Is there an inn or motel around here?" Darcy asks, when his coffee's half gone. He doesn't particularly feel like driving all the way back to the ranch on the longest highway in the world.
"You're staying the night?" She turns her head around, her hands occupied. "I can ask my uncle if there's room in the B&B."
It doesn't escape his notice that she mentions the B&B, like there really isn't a choice.
Darcy tries to smile. It ends up a little awkward. "I suppose it would have to do."
"What brings you to Rusterville anyway?" She asks with a brilliant smile of her own. She wipes her hands on her apron before turning fully to face him again. "You're not visiting anyone?"
"I'm not."
"Uncle Philip's been renovating recently, but he may have a room open," she informs him earnestly.
He wonders if he should tell her that her entire town is feeling weirder and weirder to him by the minute.
"I suppose we can try it. If you can just point me the direction of this place, uhm, Miss - "
"Oh, where are my manners!" She slaps herself on the forehead. Then, with alarming animation, she sticks out a hand to him. "I'm Lizzie! Nice to meet you. Welcome to Rusterville."
He reaches out slowly to shake her hand. "William - William Darcy."
"Oh, like the author?"
He blinks blankly. Maybe she is real, after all. "Y - yes, like the author."
"Oh, how delightful!" She beams at him, and he wonders if any other William Darcys in the world get this type of treatment just for sharing his name. "I knew there was something special about you."
He's sorely tempted, for reasons beyond himself, to tell her that she is the one with something special. She is the person who is inexplicably happy, who floats like a ray of sunshine as she tends an empty coffee shop.
And she is the most fascinating thing he's encountered in his adult life.
The sound of the door chime has her looking up above his head.
"Welcome to the Cuppa!" She smiles. "Oh, Paul, it's just you!"
Darcy watches, spellbound, as Lizzie reaches over the counter to give the newcomer a hug. The newcomer, with his plaid button-down and his jeans and his stubble, lets go of her with a smile before giving Darcy a suspicious once-over.
And without really thinking through it all that much, Darcy reaches over the counter to place a hand on Lizzie's elbow, and he blurts, "I - I think I have an idea."
It's been three hours - three hours since his impulsive, uncharacteristic offer to the country girl he's literally just met. For all his skill with words, he wasn't particularly eloquent in phrasing his bright idea, and it took extensive patience on her part and extensive impatient toe-tapping on Paul's part before Darcy managed to get just the right phrases out to state his whole offer.
Then Paul, who is apparently her boss in this backwards café, promptly banished Darcy to the cramped table by the window, asking him to give Lizzie some space as she obviously needed to think through such a ridiculous idea.
Darcy would like to argue that the idea isn't that far-fetched.
But he also happens to have a hard time convincing himself that the idea isn't that far-fetched.
The sun is slanting pretty near to the horizon, and Darcy's stomach is growling unhappily at being fed nothing but coffee since this morning, when Lizzie finally slips into the seat across from him.
"Well?" He tries to sound calm and professional, like he hasn't been considering bolting to the next available town just to avoid being treated like a lunatic by the local business owners.
"My father said yes," she informs him brightly. She does everything brightly - which is what makes her so irresistibly interesting.
"To?"
She laughs. She seems to laugh a lot. "I - I talked to him about your offer, and he said we can have you over. Though neither of us really understand why you would ever want to study my life."
Darcy nods his head while she chuckles.
Not only has she taken his offer seriously despite its frightening spontaneity, she is actually accepting his offer.
It really is all too good to be true.
"I'll pay," he says, just because he's anxious for something to say, "I'll pay for my room and board - and for the favor you are doing me."
"Having a friend follow you around is hardly a favor."
A friend - she calls him a friend.
The girl is so fascinatingly trusting that it's hard to believe she exists.
"Do you need a contract signed? Something to put it all down in words?" He offers.
"I thought you were pretty clear. You're writing a book about a town just like ours - and you need someone to show you around."
So he has bended the truth a little bit.
But he assumes most women would be flattered rather than offended to become one of his heroines anyway.
"Do you have room at your place?" He's not sure why he's hesitating now, when she is so obviously willing.
"We have a guest room." She smiles. "My older sister's married and lives out East, and my baby sister's away in college. My father would love the company."
Darcy sports a half-hearted smile, not exactly sure how this faceless father would feel about a famous bachelor writer following his guileless daughter around.
"Besides, money's been tight," she admits, unprompted. Darcy watches her with as much fascination as he felt the moment he's first walked into the Cuppa. "Papa's paying for Lydia's tuition, and it's been going up every year. It would help him plenty to take on a boarder."
"Right."
"You're a heaven-sent, Will," she says with an incredible lack of irony. He doesn't even flinch at the way she's shortened his name. "This is just what we need."
"I'm - I'm glad." He nods. Then he frowns just a little when his stomach complains.
"Oh, you must be starving!" She props herself to her feet. He tries not to notice the way her body bends just inches from his face. "Let me hand things over to Paul, and we'll have you home and well-fed in no time."
"Your work's done?"
"My shift ended an hour ago." She smiles. "I usually just hang out a bit after."
Suddenly, the macho glare Paul kept sending Darcy's way makes so much more sense.
"Thank you - for agreeing to the project." Darcy stands as well.
Lizzie cocks her head to the side as if to say 'it's nothing,' trademark smile in place.
"Give me a sec. Do you have a car?"
"I do."
"Great! I'll bike in front and show you the way." And she whips around to talk to her boss, ponytail dancing behind her.
A/N: Here is the ray of sunshine that is Rey-as-portrayed-in-fanfiction + some inspiration from Anna Camp's character in Perfect Harmony. She is not my usual Elizabeth Bennet. In fact, I hardly recognize her. Thankfully, this story is quite short, so we might get back to our regular Regency Elizabeth soon enough!