One Word From You: A Pride and Prejudice Adaptation (16 page)

“
No problem.”

“
How did you know how to -”

“
There's not much to do where I live if it's raining. The TV and I spend a lot of quality time together in the winter. I'm Beth, by the way. Nice to meet you, I think.”

“
I'm nothing like that miserable git, if that's what you're worried about. It's good to meet you at last,” he said, and kissed the back of my hand.

It was less creepy when he did it, than if Wyatt or another adult tried.

It helped that Freddie was kind of cute.

Look, I was eighteen. I was allowed to be just a little shallow when it came to my opinions of guys. And despite what I professed to Lisa, several years with only girls for company did get a little boring to look at. I mean, I had needs. I was hardly a nun or anything.

“
At last?” I asked.

“
Will's talked about you a lot.”

“
All bad, I hope,” I winked, “Can't have him spoiling my terrible reputation.”

“
Shut up, Freddie,” William warned.

Obviously he wasn't going to. I was fast realising that he had just as much mischief in him as I did. That was definitely an appealing feature. Freddie leaned in close, and whispered against my ear, “He said you were the only person worth dancing with at Charlie's party.”

“
Well, I can't say that's not true,” I said, “I'm pretty freaking fantastic.”

“
And your musical abilities are, supposedly, sensational.”

“
I said they weren't bad,” William corrected, “But they need working on.”

“
Sure you did,” Freddie agreed sarcastically.

“
We should get ready for dinner. You can't wear jeans,” he told me, “My aunt will have a fit.”

“
That doesn't put me off wearing them,” I admitted, “In fact, I think that might make the whole thing more fun.”

“
She'll take it out on your mother,” he added.

I shrugged, “I don't care. In case you didn't notice, Mummy and I don't really get along. If I had my way, I'd be spending Christmas with my Dad, and a lot of sweaty guys.”

“
Wow, where the hell do you live?” Freddie asked.

“
None of your business,” I flashed a smile, “Anyway, are you free to show me around tomorrow? I think if I have to stay in this place for the whole trip, I'm going to go nuts. Also, what's the deal with Cosette? Is she a ghost, or something? No person should be that pale.”

Freddie suddenly grabbed my hands, “No way, you can see her too?! I thought I was the only one!”

“
I'll get the salt, you get the holy water!”

“
It's like watching some kind of idiot convention,” William decided, “You two are far too in sync.”

“
Would it kill you to smile?” I asked.

“
I think he's allergic to those. He laughed a few years ago by accident, and he was in bed for weeks. Even a smirk can cause really bad convulsions. He takes medication, now.”

“
You're aware that I am still in the room, aren't you?”

“
Yeah, duh,” I said.

“
It's no fun if you can't hear us,” Freddie added.

William let out a short breath through his nose. I had to admit, I was surprised he wasn't biting back at me or anything. At school, he'd been quick to tell me how much he didn't like me. Well, not in so many words, but the feeling was pretty obvious from him. I was well beneath him, and Charlie, and Chantelle for that matter. I'd never say that to their faces, because then they'd know that they were getting to me, but it was true. Okay, so Charlie didn't ever act like that, but it was hard to ignore the facts. I wasn't their equal, and they all saw it.

Maybe it was because Freddie was there, and he didn't seem to have a problem with my lower social standing. I liked him, actually. He was cool for a guy from such a warped family. I didn't know William's mother or sister, but if they'd let him destroy Gideon's life, then they couldn't be much better than he was. I already had a bad opinion of them. Maybe Freddie was like the
black sheep
in this scenario. Like, he was the only decent human being in their bloodline.

“
Can I sit next to you at dinner?” I asked him boldly, “That way, you can tell me embarrassing stuff about William.”

“
Why would you want to talk about me?” he asked.

“
I need ammunition,” I said, “I don't know enough about you to totally ruin your reputation at school, yet. Freddie's my new secret weapon. Is that cool, by the way?” I asked Freddie, “I can give you a code name, if you agree.”

“
What kind of code name?”

“
What, you want me to just improvise one?”

“
You suggested it.”

“
I'm surrounded by total morons,” William lamented just loudly enough for us to hear.

We ignored him.

“
Fitz?”

“
That's terrible,” Freddie complained, “You couldn't have said double-oh-seven?”

“
No, I really couldn't,” I said.

“
Would you two
please
just come to dinner?” William pleaded.

“
Is he always so whiney?” I asked.

“
He's usually worse, actually,” Freddie said. He offered me his arm, and I linked mine through it. Freddie winked at William as if he'd achieved something over him. I didn't even make eye contact with him as we left, because I knew that would annoy him the most.

If I could spend the entire break making his life hell, then it might not be all that bad after all.

Chapter Fifteen

Entirely deceived.

I'd had worse Christmases, and I'd had better. It wasn't so much the place, but the company was stifling. William was quiet, which was strange for him, and Cosette was impossible to talk to. I meant that literally, because I didn't know any French at all. Either she couldn't speak English, or she wasn't inclined to try to communicate with me. Honestly, after a tour of the house showed me her very ornate and decorative bedroom, I realised we would have little to discuss anyway.

Strange kid.

William didn't seem to have much interest in her either. This was a source of some amusement for Freddie and I, because we could see just how hard Madame Courtenay was trying to push him to her daughter. Gideon had said that she was interested in finding a girl she approved of for him, and I was starting to see that the only one she deemed suitable was her own daughter. Everyone said that the nobles were inbred, and there was the proof of it. I couldn't even tell if Cosette liked him. She was so – I don't know – doll like, that even emotions didn't play on her face. I was really tempted to knock her on her back to see if her eyes would close like those creepy babies people bought in stores.

I was glad Freddie had been forced along.

Georgia was frequently captured by Wyatt. He kept gushing about how lucky we were to be there, and how happy he was to have his girlfriend with him. She didn't look so inclined to agree, and had crawled into my bed most nights for some kind of comfort. Poor Georgia. I wasn't going to say
I told you so,
no matter how much I wanted to.

But I had told her so.

Wyatt just wasn't any good for her.

Or anyone, for that matter.

“
Now
that
is a nice car,” I said as I walked down the stone steps at the grand entrance to the building.

Freddie beamed at me, leaning against the vehicle with his arms folded across his chest like he'd just stepped out of a dreamy romance movie. His auburn hair was swept back, the collar of his white shirt open, the tails tucked loosely into his black pressed trousers. He patted the door affectionately, “She's a nineteen-”

“
Nineteen-sixty-six
Alfa Romeo Spider Duetto
, I know.”

“
How do you -”

“
My Dad likes cars,” I explained, “Would you let me drive?”

“
Do you have a license?”

“
No.”

“
Then, no,” Freddie opened the passenger door for me, “Come on, before someone tries to stop us escaping.”

That someone would probably be my mother. She was still determined that I was going to spend time with her and her new husband, as if we could be a family. I didn't think that was going to happen. I appreciated that she was happy and everything, but I couldn't help wondering how long it would be until her latest marriage fell apart. It was her life and everything, so she could do what she wanted. I just didn't want her to drag me into it.

“
So, what are we doing?” I asked as we took off at high speed, leaving the dreary old house and its occupants far behind us.

“
Museums?”

“
Boring.”

“
Really? Have you ever been to
The Louvre?
”

“
No.”

“
Then you don't know it's boring, do you?” he asked, “Indulge me with some culture, and then we'll go shopping or something.”

“
Because that's all girls like to do, right?”

“
Most, yes. What else did you have in mind?”

I shrugged, “Walking, I suppose? Are there many street performers in Paris?”

“
Yeah, a lot.”

“
I want to see them.”

Freddie chuckled, “You're a weird girl.”

“
Why?”

“
A hot guy picks you up, in a nice car, no less. You could do anything you want, money is no object at all, and you want to walk around looking at mimes and musicians.”

“
Did you just refer to yourself as a
hot guy?
”

“
...Maybe.”

I laughed so hard, I had to hold my hands around my middle. Yeah, I really was happy he was there. Perhaps someone like Freddie was right for me. I didn't understand people who got tangled up in relationships that were full of drama. I needed someone who could handle my weird personality, and who could make me laugh by being just as strange. I mean, Freddie didn't act like some spoilt rich boy. The car was a reminder that he was one, but I could look past that.

“
You know,” he said, and reached over to tug lightly on the collar of my hooded jacket, “You can't really walk around Paris dressed like a boy.”

“
What's wrong with it?”

“
Nothing, but if you want a real Parisian experience, you should look like a Lady.”

I groaned, “I hate wearing heels.”

“
I'll get you some flats.”

“
Freddie, really?” I stamped my feet gently so as not to hurt the car, “I don't want to. I hate shopping.”

“
One
store. Maybe two. It'll be quick and painless, I promise. And then we'll do whatever you want. Deal?”

“
Fine,” I huffed.

Given it was winter, I wasn't really keen on the idea of wearing a dress. But, apparently, jeans weren't often seen on a Lady who was receiving the hospitality of Madame Courtenay. I glared at Freddie while he talked in rapid French to the saleswoman in the boutique we went to. He wasn't shy about holding her hands in his, caressing them with his thumbs, and eyeing her in a flirtatious way. Although I was sat right there, staring and drinking tea, she wasn't at all put off. When he was done convincing her to help, she hurried off to get a selection of outfits.

“
Let me guess,” I said, “She's your sister?”

“
Funny,” he dropped into the seat beside mine, “Are you jealous?”

“
Not even slightly.”

“
I can't help it if a pretty girl responds to my requests better if I – you know – deliver them in a more enticing package.”

“
The less said about your
enticing package,
the better,” I muttered.

I wondered if Freddie's request included an enormous amount of stereotyping, because the only outfit he approved of was exceptionally French. The dress had long sleeves, which was a blessing in the middle of winter, I can tell you. The top was black and white striped, and the high waisted black skirt was knee length, but puffed out with the help of a lot of netting in the underskirt. The black bow on the chest was a nice feature, but I got the feeling it was going to annoy me after a while.

With the double breasted black wool coat over it, it was hard to see why the dress had been necessary. The belt around the middle of the coat brought it in at my waist. From there, it settled nicely over the skirt, adding to the shape rather than forcing it flat against my legs. Freddie didn't ask before he untied my hair. I hadn't dried it properly the night before, and the natural waves I usually straightened out bobbed over my shoulders and against my back.

“
You need a hat,” he said.

“
Does my hair look that bad?”

He smirked, “Stupid. The right hat can make it look better.”

Again, he babbled in French to the woman who had been admiring her work. She had been pulling me here and there for over an hour. Even though I'd shaved my legs, she insisted very loudly that I wear the flesh tone stockings she was thrusting at me. I would be warmer with them, but I'd never been a fan of anything but socks. She raced off, and tottered back on her ridiculous heels with a black wool micro-brim hat. It had a similar bow to the dress I was wearing. Freddie took it from her, and set it on my head, paying no mind to the way I blushed as he teased my hair into place, and I felt his fingers against my skin.

“
Perfect. Shoes?”

“
Are you trying to kill me?”

“
I couldn't kill someone so beautiful. But you're not wearing trainers with this outfit. It would be a crime.”

“
If you bring over heels, I'll walk out barefoot,” I warned the shop assistant, who probably didn't understand me.

Freddie added a comment in French, and I hoped that he hadn't totally translated my threat. She did find a pair of ballet flats. They were mostly black, save for a few white, doily like accents. They were just going on my feet, so I didn't care what they looked like, so long as they weren't going to cut my heels to ribbons because they were new.

“
Are we done, now?”

“
You haven't cracked a single smile,” he scolded, “I'll pay, you take a look in the mirror.”

I was dreading it. And there was good reason for me to do so. When I did stand in front of one of the full length mirrors, I didn't recognise the girl staring back. She had the same makeup I'd put on that morning, the same slightly chewed nails, and black polish. But everything else was totally alien to me. I did look like I could blend into a group of posh people, if I was so inclined.

“
Do you think you could stand to walk around Paris, now?” he asked.

“
Where are my clothes?”

He shook the bag he was holding. At least they hadn't thrown them out. I wanted to change into something less stifling when we got back to the house. Freddie took my hand, lacing our fingers together, and leaned in to kiss my cheek. We looked good together. As in, we really matched. He was the dashing playboy, and I was his latest squeeze. Well, we would be if we were in some stupid film together. The shop assistants thanked us greatly for the small fortune Freddie had spent in their store as we left. I didn't think I wanted to know what the price tags were. It would only make me paranoid about ruining the outfit somehow.

Like traditional tourists, Freddie could have easily taken me to a high class café that overlooked the Eiffel Tower. I wouldn't have complained about the view, but it was visible on just about every postcard and picture of France. Instead, we walked around the back roads, and found a dark little cafe that served steaming mugs of bitter black coffee. Although it was cold, we sat outside, watching the locals go about their business. The walls were scrawled with such beautiful graffiti that I'd have gone as far as to call it art. It was a brilliant alternative to a stuffy, silent gallery.

We had some entertainment in the form of a young woman. She was singing a forlorn tune to the sound of a keyboard application on her tablet computer. I had one of those on my phone, but I only used it to annoy people by repeatedly hitting the high notes. I didn't realise I drumming my fingers on the table in time with her playing.

“
So, what's with the music? You said you weren't good, William said you were.”

“
I dabble,” I said, “Making a living out of it is just a dream. Things like that don't happen.”

“
Clearly they do, otherwise we'd have nothing to listen to.”

“
They don't happen to people like
me.
”