PROLOGUE | Ayra

PROLOGUE

Ayra

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T he Lion’s Head Pub in the heart of London, England was quiet. Only a few patrons sat sipping their ale as they went over the hardships of their workday.

I sipped what remained of my second lager and wondered how much longer I would have to wait. I’d already been sitting here for nearly an hour, looking out the window and checking the door every two minutes. I was growing impatient.

“Can I bring you another pint?,” the server asked as he wiped the corner of my table with his white cloth.

“I’m good. Thank you,” I said.

“Waiting for someone?”

I pressed a tight smile but said nothing.

As he walked away, I pulled out the tattered photo that my mother had given me for the purpose of this night.

“He’s a good boy from a good family,” she had said, pressing the photo into my palm. “Do try to make a good impression.”

Oh, Mother. What have you gotten me into this time?

I hated... no I absolutely loathed blind dates. And yet, there I was sitting and waiting to meet some pimply-faced string bean of a guy named Devi.

Really, Mother? I thought as I looked closely at the photo. The scrawny boy looked back at me through incredibly thick glasses. His smile was marred by the glint of braces and his unruly hair sat atop his head like a thick, black mop.

I sighed and tried to look at the bright side. Despite the braces, his smile was warm, if not a little awkward. And through his thick glasses I clearly detected an intelligent being somewhere in there.

Reva, my mother, had long tired of my single status and had taken it upon herself to remedy the situation... so there I sat, waiting.

“Great. Really, really great,” I muttered under my breath.

I looked once again at the photo and determined that it had been taken a number of years earlier. I could only hope that he had blossomed since then.

Please, oh Lord... let me meet a man that will take my breath away.

Movement at the door caught my attention, and I once again checked to see who was entering; just an old man who headed to the far table to join his buddies.

“Do something nice with your hair,” my mother had said.

Sighing, I absentmindedly fiddled with the long, black braid that trailed over my right shoulder. I looked down at my attire, black leggings with a snug red button down shirt. Casual/chic... or so I hoped.

“Put on a pretty dress,” she added. I felt certain she had held back the urge to go through my closet and pick out something appropriate.

“Why not? Why not go through my closet?” I quietly grunted. After all, she was trying to pick out my future husband. Why not just take full control of my life, Mother?

Though proud to be of Indian heritage, my parents had left India before my birth and brought me to life in the land of the free. My mother had been surrounded by women of accomplishment, successful careers, and who walked independent paths. I, too, sought to find fulfillment in my work... not a husband.

“That’s all good and well,” Mother said. “But you’re no spring chicken. You need to find a good man before it’s too late. All of this frivolous dating is fine when you’re eighteen, but now, you’re a mature woman. Act like it!”

“Mother, please.”

“My darling daughter. Listen to your old and wise mother. Naya was a Bollywood star... a beautiful woman... striking, intelligent, strong and married to a good man, a Scottish man. She was my childhood friend in India. Their son, Devi, is a little older than you. Still single. While married to a man in Scotland, she misses the old ways and says she wants her son to find a woman like the ones from our village. Someone from his homeland.”

“But India isn’t my homeland, Mother. America is.”

“Go on the date,” she’d pressed. “Meet the boy. Get to know him. Impress him. And then make me a dozen grandkids.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. I knew her heart was in the right place but... I shrugged and had to simply hope for the best. It didn’t matter I was her only child, and that as an only child, I didn’t want to leave my widowed mother alone.

Smiling, I tried to convince myself that I was doing the right thing, but somehow, I just couldn’t get there. I checked my watch for the fiftieth time. My God, was my blind date going to stand me up?

Did this Devi person know that I had a life too? I had been on my way to Derbyshire when my mother let me know about this incredible opportunity to meet the man of my... no scratch that,... her dreams. As I tapped my un-manicured nails on the tabletop, I thought of the dream job that awaited me.

“Mother,” I’d told her. “You have no idea how important this is to me. Pride and Prejudice - I am going to arrange the music for the cinematographic production of Pride and Prejudice ! Me, your little girl who has loved that book since first reading it in high school. Me, who worked so hard to get graduate degrees in music and film.”

“A movie,” she flippantly tossed back. “A book. That can never be more important than a good husband.”

There was not now, or had there ever been a way of convincing her otherwise. But I knew in my heart that this was where I belonged.

I tapped the face of my watch and abruptly stood. “Time’s up, buddy. I can’t wait all day.”

“No luck, sweetie?,” the server said as he came around to pick up my empty glass.

“Kind of looks that way, doesn’t it?” I shot back. “But looks can be deceiving. I actually think that this no show is a blessing in disguise.”

He offered me a confused grin.

“I need a car to Derbyshire,” I said.

“Let me get that for you. I know just who to call.”

Five minutes later, a large heap of a car pulled up in front door of the pub. As I walked out, a good-humored, heavy-set man with a thick mustache stepped out of the car. “One way ticket to Derbyshire,” he called out with a self-amused chuckle.

“That would be me,” I replied. I looked at the car that appeared to be well over fifteen years old. “How much time does it take to get there?”

“Derbyshire? That would be about an hour.”

“Oh?” I said, surprised.

“If I had a racing motorbike,” he added with a jovial laugh. “Two hours, if I had a sports car.”

Okay. Okay. But with this heap... what? A day?

“But, as it stands, it will be a four-hour drive.”

I hid my disappointment.

“Let me get that for you,” he said as he took my luggage and placed it in the car’s large and deep trunk.

I got into the front seat and prepared for a long, long drive.

“Did I detect an America accent?” the jovial man said as he sat behind the wheel.

“Yes,” I said. “California, to be precise.”

“Well,” he said, taking to the road. “My name is Burgess and I do hope you will enjoy your journey through the English countryside.”

I smiled. “I’m Ayra, and I do appreciate you driving me out so far.”

We settled into a peacefully quiet drive.

“What brings a young bird like yourself from California out to Derbyshire, of all places?” he said once we’d left London.

“A friend of mine, Keely Lee, is a fellow student from UCI and is one of the executive producers and director on a film that I’ll be working on. I’m going to meet her at Moon Manor. Do you know the place?”

He nodded. “So you’re in England to work?”

“That’s right.”

My stomach grumbled and I set my hand over my empty belly.

“Are you feeling all right, dear? Is my driving too topsy turvy?”

“Oh, no. I’m just a little bit famished. I didn’t have time to grab lunch and the time change has me a little mixed up.”

“I have just the thing.” He reached back behind my seat and brought forth a bundle wrapped in wax paper. “My wife makes the best sandwiches this side of the Thames.”

Hesitating, I smiled.

“Go ahead. Take it,” he said as he held it out to me. “I have three of them.”

My stomach let out a loud grumble that I couldn’t deny. Greedily, I took the sandwich and took a bite. Divine. Thick chewy bread loaded with thin slices of meat, cheese and shredded lettuce.

After the massive sandwich, my eyelids grew heavy and I dozed off, awakening only when the car came to a stop.

“Moon Manor,” Burgess gently announced.

I opened my eyes. “Already?” I slept through the entire trip.

I paid Burgess and got out. “Thank you so very much.”

After unloading my luggage and setting them on the ground, he tipped an invisible hat. “My pleasure.”

As he drove off, I turned to face the impressive manor. Looming three stories high, the old building was imposing. In the distance, near the main front door, a tall, elegant woman stood hugging a handsome man in his early thirties.

“Naya?” I muttered to myself, unsure as I walked up to the pair. “Naya Darcy?” I’d seen her in many films, but with her hair pulled back into a tight bun, I wasn’t sure if it was really her.

The stunningly beautiful Bollywood star saw me and smiled.

“My, my,” she softly said as she released the hunky young man who stood inches over her tall frame. “You must be Ayra. It is positively uncanny. You look just like your mother. You could be her twin!”

I shot her a quizzical glance then looked to the sexy guy beside her. Was the older star having an affair with the young man she’d been holding in such a tender embrace?

“Devi,” she said to him. “You already met with Ayra earlier this afternoon, didn’t you? So, I guess you two already know one another?”

Devi? The Devi that I waited for at the Lion’s Head Pub?

Confused, I panned from her big brown eyes to the steely eyes of the tall man.

Devi looked at me with a sheepish grin. Guilt and charm danced in his eyes as he sought a way of explaining why he had stood me up.

Naya looked at my confused expression and back to Devi. “Devi? You did meet with Ayra earlier, didn’t you? You told me that you’d had a lovely meeting and that you were looking forward to working with her.”

“I... I... I...” He cleared his throat. “Mum, I did meet briefly with a young girl in London. I’ll admit that I was in a bit of a rush, and perhaps I didn’t verify the pretty girl’s identity, but...”

“Devi!” Naya scolded.

“But I really thought it was Ayra and, well... you know that this is my first big romantic leading role and you know how nervous this all makes me and... I simply rushed through the meeting.” He looked at me, his eyes begging me to bail him out.

Mother, why did you not tell me? I thought. Devi was the real-life Barnaby Darcy , the star of the movie that I was to work on. He would be playing my all-time fantasy crush, Mr. Darcy. I was stunned . I was stunned and speechless . I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Part of me was still smarting from his total disregard for me – standing me up was unpardonable – but another part of me was fascinated by him. I would be working with this gorgeous hunk of a man - a real-life Mr. Darcy .

Star-struck, I realized that he was even dressed for the part of Mr. Darcy. His white linen shirt was tucked into his tight riding trousers. All that was missing was the cutaway tailcoat.

“Now that I think of it,” I said, “I did briefly speak with a young man at the pub. I guess that I, too, didn’t realize who I was talking to.” My story made no sense, but it was all that I had.

And Naya saw right through me, but said nothing. “Alright, alright, you kids. The important thing is that you’re both here now.” She gave me a big hug. “I just so happy to finally meet you... such a pretty girl! I’m sure you two will get along just fine.”

“I know you must be exhausted, Mum,” Devi said. “You can head home now. I’ll take care of everything on this end.”

Naya looked at her son and tenderly ran her hand over his clean-shaven cheek. With a light tap, she smiled. “Be a good boy and I’ll see you in a few days.”

He bent over slightly to kiss her cheek.

“Have fun, kids.” And she walked off.

Tension immediately took up the place vacated by Naya. Devi and I stood facing one another, assessing each other. His scrutinizing gaze was suddenly harsh and judgmental leaving me feeling self-conscious. My heart pounded as his upper lip rose, almost to a snarl.

“So, you’re Ayra,” he said.

“And you’re Barnaby Darcy,” I replied.

“About our arrangements,” he said. “I’m really not that old-fashioned. But Mum insisted, and well, Mum runs the show in the family, and I’ll go along with it for a while.”

“Is she going to be here at Moon Manor during the filming?” I asked.

“No, we own a cottage in Derbyshire, a summer retreat, that she’s staying at, so she came by for a visit.”

“Oh,” I said. “So, you’re staying here with me.”

“I believe I’m staying in the grand suites, while you’ll be with the crew,” Barnaby said with a sniff.

“Devi,” I said.

“Barnaby,” he corrected me. “I go by Barnaby now. Got to keep up with my new sharp image, you know.”

“Oh, Barnaby,” I said. “What are we going to do about our arrangement?”

“We act like we are dating when my mother’s around,” Barnaby said. "But don’t expect me to be lovey-dovey with you otherwise. You’re not my type.”

Ouch. Barnaby Darcy was a snob. Just like Mr. Darcy in Pride and Prejudice .

Was he the most perfect Mr. Darcy? Only time would tell.