He gave me a wink, pulled on the Gandalf beard, and headed out to the main floor.
* * *
I spent much of my shift thinking over what Enzo had said about tears between worlds. As bananas as the whole thing sounded, it was the only practical suggestion I’d had so far about how to return Darcy toPride and Prejudice, and so by the time I left work, I’d decided that I was going to take him out on the bus the following morning and see what happened.
I caught the Tube back to Kentish Town and hurried toward my flat. If by some complete miracle Enzo’s suggestion worked, then tonight was going to be my last evening with Mr. Darcy, so I wanted to make the most of every moment I had with this glorious man before he disappeared. I let myself into the building and crept past Mrs. Atallah’s door, grateful for the noise from her TV so she wouldn’t hear me and accost me for a chat. I tiptoed up the stairs, but when I got to the top landing, my heart dropped.
My front door was wide open.
“Mr. Darcy!”
I rushed inside to find my sofa empty and the TV screen black. I checked in the bedroom, the bathroom, and for some reason that’s still unclear to me, the laundry basket, but he wasn’t anywhere in the flat. Had Darcy somehow disappeared back intoPride and Prejudiceof his own accord? But then why was the front door open? Perhaps he’d worked out that I was holding him captive, picked the lock, and made a run for it? If so, he could be anywhere by now, roaming the streets of London, getting mugged, harassed, or injured.
I ran back down the stairs and out onto the pavement, but there was no sign of him. Darcy was gone.
“Shit!”
I sank down onto the top step and put my head in my hands, biting back tears. Darcy had abandoned me, just like my dad and Crispin, and I was alone again.
“That’s The Vixen. She looks great but is a total bitch.”
Mrs. Atallah’s voice floated out of her front window. I often heard her chatting to herself while she watched TV, so I paid her no attention. Darcy may have left me, but he was still vulnerable and needed my help. But who should I call: the police, the hospital, or Baskerville Books?
“And what, pray tell, is occurring here?”
Darcy! I felt relief flood every cell in my body at the sound of his voice. I jumped up and ran back into the building, pounding on the downstairs door.
“Mrs. Atallah! Can you hear me?”
“All right, all right, keep your hair on!”
The door swung open to reveal my landlady, wearing electric-blue eye shadow and copious amounts of gold jewelry, a grin on her face so wide that I could see smudges of red lipstick on her teeth.
“Where is he?” I said, pushing past her into the room. “Is he OK?”
Mrs. Atallah’s flat was decorated like a particularly chaotic charity shop. Every wall, surface, and inch of carpet was taken up with pictures, ornaments, and furniture, all arranged with no obvious concern for period or style. But it wasn’t this that made my mouth drop open. It was the sight of Mr. Darcy, sitting in a throne-like chair, dressed in a shiny lime-green tracksuit, his eyes glued to an episode of what appeared to beRuPaul’s Drag Race.
“Oh my God, what have you done to him?” I gasped.
“I’ve rescued him, is what I’ve done,” Mrs. Atallah hollered. “The poor man was stuck up there watching boring old documentaries, with nothing but a pathetic little sandwich for lunch.”
“What is he wearing? Is that a shell suit?”
“It was Charbel’s favorite back in the nineties. I’ve lent it to yourfriend while I wash his costume. He’ll never get the deposit back if he doesn’t keep it clean.”
I blinked as I tried to process this all. “How did he get down here, Mrs. Atallah?”
“You mean how did he get out of yourlockedflat?”
I glanced at her and saw she was staring at me with beady eyes.
“I can explain. I was worried he might get lost or get into trouble, so I wanted to—”
She dismissed me with a wave of her hand, sending the dozens of bangles on her arm clanging like a discordant percussion section. “I heard a shout while I was dusting the stairs, so I went up to check. The door was locked, so I let myself in with the spare key. Don’t look at me like that; I thought you might have left him chained to the bed.”
“What? Eww!”
“Anyway, he was watching some awful documentary about meerkats and chewing on a disgusting-looking sandwich, so I took pity on him. And look, see how much happier he is now!”
