AN: Thanks for taking a look! Just FYI: the title is a last minute one because up to now I have 12 chapters written under the heading "Modern P&P Variation". I don't particularly like the title, but I wanted it to at least convey the essence, which is that it's a modern variation. I'm having a go at first person, and it's all Darcy's POV. Apologies if he still sounds like a girl. WIP! I am editing the other title published here for the hopeful purpose of publication but have spent the last few months working on this and another modern variation which is a P&P crossover with Beauty & the Beast. I'll post that sometime soon too, in the hopes that some comments will improve it, or help me decide which one to axe. It's possible I will stick with Regency Era, but I really wanted to try writing in the modern context, using places I know, just to see if I could. Feedback very welcome :)
Chapter 1
"Look, she's not up to my usual standards, Bing, and I am not in the mood to babysit tonight. I don't even know why I agreed to come here."
The words are out of my mouth before I can retract them. The truth is, I had barely even looked at her and assumed she was just like every other girl that habitually populated these parties. Bing just wants some convenient cover as he is all over her friend, who is exactly his type, a blonde bombshell with legs that went forever and eyes the colour of a sparkling sea. Girls like that remind me of my mother and my sister, so you know. I shudder involuntarily. Georgie is beautiful, shy and utterly broken right now and I have no idea why I left her alone to come to this ludicrous house party, which always seems to coincide with some part of Leavers' Week down south, with my ridiculous friend, Charles Bingley, who continues to castigate me with his annoyingly effervescent good humour, while I have been navel gazing. I come to these events to test my boundaries and usually find them holding steady as 6 feet thick reinforced concrete. Bing will try though.
At least this time we seem to have landed amongst university age Toolies, rather than the barely pubescent school leavers that flock down south after their exams. I am too old for this. My first week off in 3 years and I end up in exactly the same place, at exactly the same time, with what looks like exactly the same kind of people. This is what comes of being best friends with someone 5 years younger than me. At least 3 years ago I wasn't a decade older than the average adolescent sauntering past, half-cut and half-dressed. I suppose I have stepped feet first into the definition of stupid that gets bandied about at marketing conferences – trying the same thing over and over and expecting a different outcome.
Rubbing my face wearily as though I can scrub out my surroundings, I look up to see Bing has finally left me in peace and I am conscious of being watched. The girl he pointed out to me is astonishingly closer than I remembered and is glaring at me unwaveringly. I look away immediately but like the good friend I am, I steel myself to make the necessary apologies and move towards her. That's when I finally look at her.
She is too young and far too lovely, her golden-brown skin setting off enormous dark brown eyes which shift immediately from unnerving disdain to wary empathy when our eyes lock. Unlike every other girl in the room, she is demurely dressed in a loose tank with an unbuttoned long sleeve shirt over it, tied at the waist. Her slim and petite figure is even more alluring hidden by the oversized culottes cinched at the waist with a simple rope belt. Holding my gaze, she casually places the water bottle she had been drinking from, into the canvas book bag over her shoulder, packed full of other things people don't usually bring to a party. I'm pretty sure there are actual books in there. She is entirely out of place and entirely unaffected by it.
The overwhelming sensation of peace I feel in her gaze is immediately overcome by a desire to flee at the intensity, but I am pinned by her unflinching scrutiny. She tilts her head slightly, her brow furrows briefly before it clears, and a half smile appears. She rubs her jaw and winces dramatically, before turning her cheek the other way and pointing a slender finger at it, raising one eyebrow.
My eyes take in every detail of her face as my feet kick off the wall of their own volition and walk towards her. Someone might have called my name, but I don't register. She looks startled when she sees me approaching but feigns complacence and holds my gaze until I am two feet away. Her eyes drop and she turns to present the cheek she had challenged me with. I watch my hands move like I'm having an out of body experience as I gently lift her chin with a finger, brushing the back of my other hand against her soft skin and whisper, "Turn the other cheek? Most people don't deserve that kind of grace."
She stiffens at the contact, and I notice she holds a set of keys positioned like knuckle-dusters between the fingers of her closed fist. She inhales sharply at my whisper and turns to look up at me. Her gaze is bordering on malevolent as she studies me but eventually she relaxes, dropping the keys in her pocket as she flexes her fingers and smiles as though she's worked out I am not a threat. "I didn't expect that reaction, but I knew at least you were old enough to understand the reference." She chuckles at my frown. "Oh dear, instead of turning the other cheek, I returned fire. Everyone deserves some kind of grace. Even you, old man." She smirks, and rather brazenly taps my cheek. My entire body is burning, and I no longer recognise who I am. I don't touch strangers and never, ever let them touch me.
A tall, bottled blonde dressed in a bikini masquerading as a dress, presses into my side from nowhere and slips between us. I step back, rather than elbow her out of my way, because Caroline is Bing's sister, and she is always this awful even when she's sober. "D! I don't think I've had my usual hello kiss from you!" She aims a sloppy kiss which I turn my cheek to avoid, not missing the irony, and put my hands gingerly on her shoulders to make sure she stays upright and keeps her distance. "Hey Caro, I see you're enjoying yourself. Where's Anton?"
"Oh, we broke up ages ago! You know I'm only waiting for you to wake up and realise we were meant for each other." Her voice is slurry and I know she won't remember any of this tomorrow morning. "Well, Caro, I'm wide awake and still waiting for that lightning bolt. Why don't you find someone else to play with tonight, ok?" As I speak, I turn her around and point her toward the games room, which is currently full of a mass of heaving bodies grinding along to whatever electronic trance beat is popular these days. It looks just like one of those levels of hell Dante wrote about.
"She seems nice." Her voice is deadpan, but there's a twinkle of amusement as she looks at me. "You'd make a lovely couple." My nose flares in distaste. "Not going to happen. That's Bing's sister, I can't remember how many times I've told her, but she keeps persisting."
"Is she always drunk when you tell her? She's not going to remember, and if she's as much of a narcissist sober as she seems when she's drunk, she won't hear anything she doesn't want to hear. Especially if you accompany the negative message with positive reinforcement, like affectionate gestures." Her eyes widen as she notices my quizzical brow and raised fingers as if to imply, "that was not affection!"
"Ok, whatever. Sorry, I've always enjoyed studying characters, and it's even worse now…" Her words trail off, but she continues to return my gaze. I can't stop looking at her, but my mouth is dry, and I have nothing of interest to say. She lets me study her, and returns the favour, as my eyes rove her person from head to toe. When they return to hers, she is unembarrassed to enter into a kind of impromptu staring contest and I know she is assessing me, without fear or favour. I don't think she knows who I am, but I don't think she would treat me differently even if she did. She seems unimpressed by the usual things that impress others.
She drops her gaze only to look at her phone. Firing off a quick reply, she drops the phone back in the huge front pocket of her culottes and gives me a wry smile. "Take care, old man. Remember, Benedick – loving goes by haps; some Cupid kills with arrows, some with traps." She nods in Caroline's vague direction and reaches out to pat my crossed arms as she makes the move to go, but rather than flinch away, I catch her fingers with mine, unwilling to let her go without one more touch. I hold her fingers gently, giving her the option to pull away but she stays, curiously looking up at me, eyes widening as I lift her fingers to my lips, kissing their tips before letting them go. She blinks rapidly, frowning a little in confusion, and I enjoy a moment realising I had managed to surprise her again. My smile is genuine, but hers is slight and still confused. She seems to remember she was on her way out and nods a curt goodbye. The kissed fingers quiver and she pulls them into a tight fist as she pushes the sliding door wide on her way out.
I watch her wend her way past the drunken revellers, managing to avoid touching anyone and anything before she disappears through the back gate. Jane and Bing drift back into the lounge as I am gazing unfocused at the space she last occupied, willing my heart to stop pounding. "Did Lizzy go already?" Her words were soft and slow, but steady, so I can tell it is her usual cadence and not slurred by alcohol. I quirk an eyebrow at Bing to ask if Lizzy was the girl I refused to even meet. He nods, so I turn to Jane, "Your friend went out the back gate, so unless she's planning on taking the coastal route home, she hasn't left yet. Or do you guys have a house on the beach?"
"She's my sister," Jane smiles, "and we're staying at the campsite up the beach." She points to her right. "We're down here to keep an eye on our little sister and a bunch of other leavers. My sister and I had a night off tonight but it's time to head back. It was lovely to meet you Charles, enjoy the rest of your night." She turns her 15-gigawatt smile on Bing, squeezes his arm platonically and follows the exact route her sister took to the back gate.
"I am in love, Darce." Bing grips the front of his shirt in the approximate location of his heart, staring at her departing figure until she turns at the back gate and waves as she disappears. "She's an-"
"Angel?" I laugh. "You just met her, right? On the beach? This afternoon? That has to be a record!"
"Come with me tomorrow? I'm going to drive up to the campsite and drop in on them."
"You don't need me for that."
"Come on, Darce. You're only here for a week. Just relax. Jane won't go anywhere without her sister, and if Lizzy isn't otherwise occupied, I won't be able to get to know Jane any better either. I don't think Lizzy's the type to fall in love and start planning your wedding, so I think you're pretty safe with her. I wonder if I should have offered to walk them home tonight?"
Bing falls in and out of love so often, I know he doesn't really understand the word. He is such a lovable guy though, and he doesn't really mean any harm, so most women treat him like the puppy he is. I don't think he ever breaks their hearts, and I doubt if anything ever goes deep enough with him.
I have always felt things too deeply, taken everything too seriously. I don't need anyone to explain why I am the way I am, and I don't have the energy to move beyond staring at the back gate, wondering precisely how much danger I am in and what it was about this particular girl that triggered such a powerful and inexorable response in me.