From Pemberley to Manhattan [COMPLETED]

Chapter 52

Bobby

Good side of the story: Nat was so shocked by Dad's description of what had happened to Ethan she'd forgotten she was – unfairly – mad at me.

Bad side of the story: Mom and Nat had gone practically catatonic. Seriously, they were just staring at us with blank expressions, as if they'd just found out Hogwarts was a real thing. Well, this story was, in fact, unbelievable. Still, I'd have preferred if they'd screamed or something. The sound of their silence was deafening.

Dad had resumed his speech for a whole ten minutes, after telling Mom and Nat all of the details he could think of since Trevor had paid us a visit. Grandma hadn't stayed to listen, claiming she had very important tasks she had to take care of immediately, insisting she'd need Mike dressed in a black suit to help. Weird, I know. No idea what the woman was up to.

She must have been refurnishing, though, because it was pretty noisy upstairs. Why her husband would have to wear a black suit to refurnish, I'd never guess.

The point was: Grandma hadn't heard about the time travelling thing, which I now considered a blessing. If Mom and Nat had gone into coma-mode, imagine what could've happened to my poor, delicate Grandma!

"So, that means you're from the nineteenth century", Nat had been quiet for so long, she actually scared me when she spoke. Fitz nodded enthusiastically. "And that you've been lying to my face since we first met?"

Oh, shit. "Miss Nathalie, I–"

"And when you said you believed that, if a woman was over the age of twenty-five, she should marry the first, and I quote, 'suitor that showed the slightest interest in her or be condemned to be a spinster', you weren't sarcastically criticizing our society's ridiculous expectations for women, were you?"

Double shit. "Well, I suppose–" Poor Fitz tried, but was once again interrupted by Volcano Nathalie.

"And when you stated people should marry within their social circle, you weren't joking about the absurdity of social discrimination in the twenty-first century, were you?"

Triple shit. "Actually, I believe–" Hadn't Fitz realized yet those were rhetorical questions?

"And when you asked if our former President Obama was a 'free man' by the time he was elected, it wasn't a weird-but-smart British sarcasm I couldn't quite understand, was it?"

"WHAT?!" I'd talked to Fitz about the abolition of slavery! What the hell had he been thinking? "Dude, people get arrested now for saying that kind of shit! We've talked about it! It's racism, Fitz! Badly done!"

"Et tu, Brute?", Fitz sounded like he was accusing me of a crime. He seemed hurt and mad.

"Dude, call me either Bobby or Robert. Not 'Brute'. I can be tough sometimes, but I'm definitely not a brute. And my Spanish's a little rusty, so you'll have to translate that one for me."

Nat rolled her eyes and left in a rush; Fitz ran after her; Mom finally came back from her stupor and began crying; Dad tried to comfort her and got hand slapped.

I went to my room to smoke my special cigar.

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