Chapter 4

“You’re an idiot, Lizzy. But please put me down as chaperone.” Charlotte’s voice rose in pitch, her enthusiasm clearly growing. “I’ll be the protective friend, gawking weirdly from a nearby table. And if you don’t like him, we’ll switch seats and I get a turn.”

“You two-timer! You can’t cheat on...on whatshisname.”

“Exactly! Whatshisname McFeelings. He’s only memorable in the worst ways, but he pays for dinner, asks about my day, and does whatever I ask when we?—”

“Stop sharing!” Elizabeth muted her phone and sped up her pace to catch the green light for the crosswalk. She could hear Charlotte laughing when she unmuted her. “You want a date with Will Darcy?”

“Why not? He’s smart, rich, has gorgeous hair and a tight bum, and he’s hot. Especially when he smiled at me that one time.”

“Ha, right.” This was awkward. If ever two people had no romantic potential, it would be Charlotte Lucas, aspiring playwright and tattoo artist, and Will Darcy, corporate titan. Elizabeth smiled at a woman walking towards her pushing two dachshunds in a stroller, and tried to think of what to say to her best friend.

“Chill, Lizzy. I’m kidding. Darcy is not my type. Besides, are you sure he’s over his crush on you?”

Of course he is. Elizabeth could always count on Charlotte to be blunt and truthful, but her advice this morning wasn’t helping to settle her thoughts about the deal she’d made with Darcy. What am I doing? Wasn’t it enough that I was friendly to him? Why does he want to arrange dates for me?

‘I can’t stop thinking about you. I need to stop wanting you, but I can’t.’

Would she ever be able to forget his shocking words? Or the way his intense, vulnerable expression had darkened when she pushed him away, using harsh words to convey that her feelings were the opposite of his? He’d disappeared after a whispered apology and they had not seen each other again until last night when he proposed this matchmaking scheme.

Clearly, he’s past liking me too much. Is this guilt over whatever he did to break up Jane and Charlie—or over what he said to me? Is it a joke on me?

He was a serious man but he could not be serious about matchmaking. Darcy? The man who, by the luck of his genes and bank account, could have anything and anyone he wanted? Who was she supposed to set him up with? And what could she have in common with his friends, even if he claimed they weren’t like him?

She was being unfair. He was a handsome man and he did smile, albeit often at the strangest times. And he had encouraged Charlie’s return to Jane, and made clear he supported them as a couple. But when did he get so funny, joking about the serial killer qualities of his friends? This more spirited, even charming version of Will Darcy must be an anomaly; he was trying hard to appear pleasant. If it was only a small glimpse of who he could be, it made her job even more complicated.

Elizabeth had no idea of his type. Jane was useless in providing details of his romantic pursuits; she had never met, nor heard Charlie speak of Darcy dating anyone in particular. She couldn’t imagine being successful at setting him up with someone he’d actually like. To see him as a part of a couple, hanging out with Jane and Charlie, would be weird, at the very least.

She’d play it safe. Neutral. Leave her friends out of it and find someone like him: proper, well-educated, career-focused. She reached for her phone. I know at least one Miss Perfect who is not my older sister.

It wasn’t even ten-thirty on Saturday morning, and Elizabeth had a headache. Her ears hurt, too. Some people—this guy, Bill Collins, in particular—talked too much. It was a long thirty minutes before she could excuse herself and flee to the ladies’ room. After taking a moment to collect herself and enjoy the silence, she shot off a quick text to Darcy that began with half a dozen thumbs-down emojis.

Setting me up with the guy who sells you paper? Make a note for next time: taller, no facial piercings, trained to use forks and napkins in public.

Her phone rang a moment later. Darcy spoke hurriedly, and she could hear loud noises behind his deep voice. “He was a last-minute substitution—your real date’s flight was delayed last night and he didn’t let me know until five this morning.”

“His flight, hmm? Too busy burying the last body?”

He chuckled. “I promised you no serial killers, but he was in Wyoming, where there is plenty of land to dig graves.”

“Were you setting me up with a cowboy?”

“Of course,” came his smooth reply. “They don’t have beards, enjoy the outdoors and long romantic horseback rides, and understand how to treat snake bites and chafing.”

She couldn’t hold back a quiet if incredulous laugh. “Sure, that checks all the boxes for my dream date. How was—” A loud clanging filled her ear. “Wait, where are you? It’s very noisy. Are you still on your date?”

“No, that ended an hour ago. I’m at the gym.”

“An hour ago?” She glanced at her watch. It was half past eleven. His date had been set for ten o’clock, hers for an hour later. “How was it? Did you like her?”

“Um...”

Jade Fairfax had an impressive background, and when forced to find Darcy a date, Elizabeth thought Jade seemed to match his personality: attractive, highly educated, and beautifully mannered. She was, perhaps, overly fond of Phantom of the Opera and her forty-seven-year-old parrot, but everyone had idiosyncrasies.

“Um, what? Did you like her?”

“She was pleasant company for coffee, but demure, earnest, and an überfan of bad musicals is not my type.”

Something she would deny was relief flooded through Elizabeth. “Do you mean that finding someone you could tolerate wasn’t enough?”

“I can tolerate anyone. But dating someone requires attraction. Jade seems lovely, just not my type.”

“I see.”

“But I will say that her fluency in five languages is impressive.”

“Ha, so you like a polyglot,” Elizabeth said, smiling. “This explains why you set me up with a guy who not only reads user manuals for copiers but knows the history of Linux and likes to tell people about it.”

He laughed. “Did he bring up bitcoin?”

“I’ve dodged that bullet so far, but there’s still time in the half-hour left in this date from hell.”

“Sorry.”

Darcy sounded so contrite, she felt guilty about complaining. “Well, it started off badly when he broke the first rule of the date and handed me a red carnation he’d clearly plucked out of a supermarket bouquet. But things are improving. He’s a cheese enthusiast, and I anticipate learning more about the nuances of edam.”

“Amateur cheese-monger is an impressive bullet point on any resume, but if you’re certain he’s not Mr Right, I will make sure to find a man who is more to your taste next time.”

“You know my taste, eh?”

“I know what you don’t like.”

Elizabeth felt all the sting of his words. Had he meant it as a joke? He’d made a similar reference on Sunday. There was silence, and she could hear muffled shouting.

“Um, I need to go. I have a squash game waiting for me.”

“Sure, bye.”

I guess that confirms Darcy has gotten over whatever feelings he had for me. Well, good.