He turned and began to squeeze his way through the other passengers. He managed to get through the carriage door just in time before it slammed shut. Immediately, the train began to pull off. I could see Nick through the window, and he looked back at me for a moment, catching my eyes through the glass. Then the train started to pick up speed, and I saw him turn and run in the opposite direction.
Chapter Twenty-Three
My mind was racing as fast as the train through the tunnel. It was now obvious to me that I’d gotten Nickverywrong. The first time we’d met, I’d written him off as some ignorant, romance-novel-hating sexist, but actually the man was clearly deeply conflicted and struggling with huge grief. And now that I thought about it, I’d been wrong about his obsession with Darcy too. All along I’d thought Nick was blinded by his hatred of the character and intent on destroying the novel he’d come from, but actually, Nick was trying to save Darcy from disappearing forever. In fact, I was the one who’d been blinded by my own prejudice against Nick.
The train pulled into King’s Cross St. Pancras, and I made my way up to the main terminal, dodging crowds of people heading out for a Saturday night in town, suitcase-laden tourists making their way to the Eurostar, and lost Harry Potter fans looking for platform 9 3/4. A huge electronic board showed the destination of all the trains, and I scoured it, looking for one to Harpenden, a town the internet had told me was the most likely approximate location of Meryton. (How the internetknew this, I didn’t know—something to do with distances from other places and people with too much time on their hands.)
The next train to Harpenden was from Platform B in eight minutes’ time, so I rushed toward the ticket barriers on the way to the platform. A guard was standing by the gates, helping a woman with a large suitcase and a buggy struggle through.
“Excuse me, I’m looking for a missing person,” I said to the guard. “He’s having a bit of a personal crisis, and I think he may have come this way recently to catch a train.”
The guard looked thoroughly unimpressed. “Sorry, love, but one hundred thousand people come through this station every day, so I can’t really help.”
“He’s quite distinctive, wearing beige trousers, a blue tailcoat, and a cravat.”
The woman with the suitcases turned to look at me. “He’s in fancy dress?”
“Yes, sort of. It’s Regency clothing, so he looks a bit like someone fromBridgerton, if you’ve ever watched that.”
“Oh, I love that series,” said the guard, smiling. “Season one was my favorite; I love Daphne and Simon.”
“I preferred season three,” said the woman with the buggy. “The way Colin redeems himself for Pen is so romantic.”
“Yeah, but I didn’t like the way—”
“OK, I love it, too, but I really need to find my friend,” I interrupted. “He doesn’t know London well, and I’m worried he’ll get lost or worse.”
“Where was he trying to catch a train to?” the guard asked.
“I’m not exactly sure. Maybe Harpenden, but he’s a bit confused and overwhelmed.”
“Hang on, let me ask Bob; he’s been on shift on these gates sincefive. Bob, you got a minute?” the guard shouted to her colleague on the other side of the gates.
He nodded and slowly walked over. “Everything all right, Shirl?”
“This lady’s looking for a man who might have come through here recently. Dressed in a costume like something out ofBridgerton.”
“Oh yeah, I saw him, all right! Funny chap, spoke like someone from the olden days.”
“That’s him!” I said, relief coursing through me. “When did you see him? Do you know what train he caught? Is he going to Harpenden?”
Bob smiled again. “Don’t you mean ‘Netherfield’? That’s what he asked me for, straight-faced as anything! I have to say, he was very convincing.”
I could feel myself getting hot with impatience, but I tried to keep my voice steady. “Which train did he get?”
“He was going for the 8:32, I think—at least that’s the one I told him to catch.”
I glanced at my watch; it was 8:27. “OK, thanks!”
I tapped my card on the reader and ran through the gates toward the escalator.
“Wait, stop!” Bob shouted after me. “You’re going the wrong way.”
I ground to a halt. “But the Harpenden trains are on platform B, aren’t they?”
“Yeah, but your pal isn’t going to Harpenden. He changed his mind and decided to catch the Derby train, which goes from platform four.”
“Derby? Why the hell is he going there?”
