Darcy could say anything, and I would likely swoon.“Good Evening Mr. Darcy,” I say, trying not to betray myself and the cacophony of feelings he c...eates in me. “How are you this evening?” Why did I want to add Sir at the end of that question? That was odd. I supposed Mr. Darcy just commanded respect. She pictured him in expensive tailored suits and Italian leather shoes that smelled rich and earthy. While caught in her fantasy, Mr. Darcy had answered and returned the question; now, there was an. When the most bubbly of the three leaned over and asked him what time it was, I thought he might hurt himself from smiling too hard. I, too, was intrigued by their talk – and was perhaps being too obvious about it when I looked up to see why they stopped. All three of them were looking at us with sly smiles and a look of fake horror that they had been eavesdropped upon.“Well,” said the brunette, “if you’re going to listen to us talk, you should at least buy us a drink.”“Yeah, we’re thirsty.”. More

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