Tomorrow. Coffee with Elizabeth.
Darcy cannot work. It's so stupid, this—this obsession he has. He already thinks of what he will order tomorrow (coffee). What he will say. What if he finds nothing to say.
"Once upon a time I was falling in love," Bonnie Tyler sings.
Shut up, Bonnie.
-X-
On the day.
Elizabeth, right there, in the café. Sitting at Darcy's table. Smiling at him.
In jeans and a tee shirt, her hair far from perfect. Not a hint of makeup. Like she doesn't care. Like she doesn't even try.
She's not that pretty.
Average. Nothing special in her features. No reason to look twice.
They order. Elizabeth tries for small talk. Darcy's not in the mood. He's been not in the mood for days. For months.
It bugs him, that Elizabeth pretends. With the small talk. Pretends to be cheerful, to care. While this meeting is…utilitarian.
"Shall we get to the point?" he says. Brusque.
Elizabeth's eyebrows rise. "Of course," she replies, deceptively nice.
A pause. "Thank you for accepting to host Bingley's birthday at your place," Elizabeth starts, politely. "I am sure he will love it. See, what I was thinking…"
Organization ensues. Champagne, cake, good wine.
Forty to fifty guests. Bingley has a lot of friends.
"They will show up. Bingley's friends actually like him," Elizabeth says.
Funny. Maybe a little pointed.