Mrs Darcy Novels & Stories

“Maybe you could ask her for drinks and see where it goes. She's your type. From what Jane told me, I think you two would get along well.” “My type? You mean money hungry?” Mr. Darcy countered. My eyes widened. No one had ever called me money hungry before. “Ouch,” Charles replied, turning to look at his friend. “I didn't get that from her. What's your problem with her?” "She's wearing a designer gown she can't afford and bidding on items just for attention," Mr. Darcy explained. "She's just here to meet a rich husband, so she doesn't have to work her meaningless job. I doubt there's a brain cell in her head that actually functions."

I overhear her speaking as if she was shocked to see that he was present. Then, all of a sudden, I find myself confronted by an elderly lady. We stare at each other, and I keep hoping she's simply a cleaner he's hired. "What is your name?" She inquires. She examines me from head to toe, and her gaze stays fixed on my T-shirt; she must have noticed that it's one of Rory's. Her expression became one of growing rage. It's not even close to looking like a maid service to me! I murmur, "I'm Darcy, Rory's friend," as I introduce myself. Because she doesn't move, I have no way out; she's blocking the only door I can use.

Catherine was running late for her class when she passes by the dance hall and hearing the unnamed professor say something about the auditions. There, Catherine already knew that it was Lyra who’d been receiving this unnecessary lecture, so she gathered all her guts, took a deep breath and pushed the door open, entering the dance hall. Everyone in the class looked at her with their eyes widened, including Brittany, who was looking at Catherine with flirting eyes, Lyra, whose eyebrows were furrowed and nearly in tears, and the instructor with a confused expression plastered on his face.

Scarlett stops the car in front of the office complex. She heads into the premises and goes straight to the fifth floor. Stopping in front of one of the private offices, she knocks on the door. “Come in,” a waspy voice comes from within. She enters the office to find a man in his sixties, poring over a bunch of documents. His gray eyes looked up and he smiled at her. “Miss D’arcy!” He greets. “Or rather, I should address you as Mrs. Rochester.”

Madam's question shakes me out of my reverie. "Daisy, madam" I respond quickly, she turns around, facing me. Her eyes scan me, I want to squirm but I stay rooted in my position, "take the clothes" she orders the two maids, they walk towards us and take the clothes from me and the little maid. "You can go" she says, we both turn around to exit, "only Cara, you stay Daisy" she orders. I realize Cara is the name of the maid I helped, she gives me a nervous glance but unfortunately couldn't stay or say anything. I turn back to madam as Cara walks away. What is with everyone stopping me today?

Harris had a displeased expression as soon as she finished speaking and wondered if she had offended the women in front of her in some way. She was very nervous and looked at her hesitantly. As she had no intention of having a bad rapport with Gale Harris's mother after all she was her father's best friend's wife. “Oh, my dear Darcy! Do you want me to feel old by calling me, Mrs. Harris?” And Darcy could see that she was pissed as her expression said it all but after a few seconds

“We shouldn’t jump to conclusions so soon. It’s not that easy.” Darcy was prepared for the worst. In any case, this matter had to be handled with care. “But we’ve done so much, and things are going smoothly. No matter how hard it is, we must find a way.” Darcy nodded and sipped her tea. “Let’s hope so.” Darcy then looked at the door. A woman in professional attire came in, looking baffled. She had not expected someone to call her. “Hi, Secretary Mavis?” Darcy stood up and extended her hand for a handshake.

I'll just give Zora a larger share of the inheritance so she won't have to worry about anything for the rest of her life. Mom looked torn, opening and closing her mouth before finally letting out a heavy sigh. "Forget it. You deal with whatever's going on between you all on your own. I can't do this anymore." Hovering above them, I listened to their conversation and laughed through my tears. Of course, Laila would stop at nothing to steal anything or anyone I once cared about. Bit by bit, she took my spot in Simon's heart, just to replace me right at this moment.

I wish I could say they were at fault, but it was always her. Darcy, the first of our neighbors, she was a sweet, kind old lady, the type to bake pies for all the neighborhood children, and give warm hugs. Before she moved in, the house next door stayed empty, and I never knew why all of my grandmother’s friends lasted a few days.

I say, voice trailing off into the quiet around us. "I just always thought she'd be here with me for this." My voice is hardly more than a whisper as the words come out, and I see the tears start to fall from Mrs. Lanzetta's eyes. She and my mother were not particularly friends. Antonio never really let her have friends. However, on occasion, when the packs would get together for a King's meeting, the two of them talked often. She doesn't have time to say anything as Darcy piles through the door with a handful of dresses before her eyes land on me. Her arms drop the pile instantly when she studies the dress.