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  A Higher Education

  A Modern Retelling of Pride & Prejudice

  Rosalie Stanton

  Contents

  A Higher Education

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Epilogue

  Afterword

  About the Author

  Also by Rosalie Stanton

  Copyright © 2018 by Rosalie Stanton

  Edited by Brittany Hutzel

  Cover Design by James, GoOnWrite.com

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  A Higher Education

  A Modern Retelling of Pride & Prejudice

  It is a truth universally acknowledged that first impressions are a bitch.

  In a sea of college freshmen, Elizabeth Bennet feels more like a den mother than a returning student. She’d rather be playing Exploding Kittens than dodge-the-gropers at a frat party, but no way was she letting her innocent, doe-eyed roommate go alone.

  Everything about Meryton College screams old money—something she and Jane definitely are not—but Elizabeth resolves to enjoy herself. That resolve is tested—and so is her temper—when she meets Will Darcy, a pompous blowhole with no sense of fun, and his relentlessly charming wingman, Charlie.

  Back at school after prolonged break, Will Darcy is far too old and weary for coeds. Yet even he can see why Charlie spontaneously decides the captivating Jane is “the one.” What throws Will is his own reaction to Jane’s roommate.

  Elizabeth’s moonlight skin and shining laugh hit him like a sucker punch. And he doesn’t like it. Elizabeth Bennet is dangerous, not only because she has a gift for making him make an ass of himself, but because she and her razor-sharp wit could too easily throw his life off course, and he can’t afford for that to happen again.

  Yet he also can’t seem to stay away.

  Warning: Contains explicit language, very adult scenarios, and references to past sexual assault and drug abuse. A buttoned-down hero with a mile-wide guardian streak, a brash heroine with a nine-mile-wide streak of feminism, a little prejudice, a little more heat, a lot of pride, and a whole lot more love.

  Acknowledgments

  I cannot thank my beta readers Terri Meeker and Kim McCoy enough for their brutally honest comments. Together, they helped me identify the places that needed revising the most. They were absolutely right in every suggestion and didn’t hold back to spare my feelings. In other words, everything an author could ever want in her beta readers.

  Thank you to Brittany Hutzel for taking no prisoners during this edit. I’m so fortunate to have you on my team.

  Thank you to Jane Austen for these wonderful characters. They haven’t stopped intriguing me since I met them, and I hope they never do.

  To my mother, even though she won’t actually read this unless it’s available in audio form.

  Which makes this the best time to confess the following: Mom, the night we watched the BBC adaptation the first time, you said it was too late to start the second disc and I’d have to wait until the following night. I took that second disc into my room and watched the whole thing after you went to bed.

  #SorryNotSorry

  1

  It wasn’t that Elizabeth didn’t like parties. In fact, she liked them just fine. But when parties included drunken assholes doing keg stands and staring pointedly at women’s chests, they stopped being fun. Unfortunately, this was one of those parties.

  “You’re hating this, aren’t you?”

  Elizabeth turned a smile to her roommate Jane. She had only known the girl a few days, but they already felt like sisters.

  Jane was the walking antithesis to the horror stories about college roommates. Plus, she was in her third year—not a fellow freshman—and Elizabeth would gladly offer sacrifices to the campus gods to keep whatever administrative error that had caused this happy accident from being corrected. Returning to college after a long break was hard enough. Starting over in your mid-twenties sucked beyond the telling of it. If Elizabeth had to do this, at least she had a leg-up with an early jackpot in the roommate department.

  “I’m not hating this,” Elizabeth said. “It’s just been a while.”

  That was an understatement. In a sea of college freshmen, she felt a bit more like the den mother.

  “Are you sure?” Jane tucked a fallen lock of brown hair behind her ear. “Because if you’re hating this, we can always head back. I bet Mary would be up for a round or two of Exploding Kittens.”

  Elizabeth shook her head. “I’m not leaving, so stop asking.”

  “But—”

  “Jane, stop worrying about me. You’ve been talking about this party for three days. Relax, dammit.”

  Jane arched an eyebrow. “’Relax, dammit’? Has that ever worked on anyone?”

  “There’s a first time for everything.” Elizabeth cracked a grin and turned her attention to the sea of sweat-glazed bodies. The frat house, she’d admit, was the nicest one she’d been in, or at least she’d guess so if it weren’t crowded with tables of food and booze. But then, the Greggii House was an institution at Meryton College—established by the wealthy for the spawn of the wealthy so the dears didn’t feel too lost among the plebeians.

  Apparently this mixer was one that was thrown every semester by the trust fund crowd. Their way of saying welcome and see how much better we are to those here on scholarships and financial aid. Everything about this place—from the Corinthian columns to the ornate crown-molding medallions etched into the ceilings—screamed money, old money, and lots of it.

  Peers they were not, but Elizabeth supposed inviting the have-nots over to gawk was about as charitable as some trust-funders ever got. They might even find a way to write off the experience on their taxes.

  A guy who had either lost his shirt or forgotten to put one on stumbled as he attempted to navigate the swarm of people near them. He managed to save himself from face-planting, but the same could not be said for the beers he carried. Elizabeth tried not to squeal—she did—but the splash of cold, fizzy liquid on her skin forced her to lose all control over her vocal chords.

  “Goddammit, watch where you’re going,” the guy spat, his words an angry slur. “You have any idea how much a case of that costs?”

  “You ran into us, fuzz butt,” Jane snapped.

  There was just something about the way Jane managed not to swear like a sailor while channeling her inne
r rage monkey that had caused Elizabeth to fall in instant like with her. This was no different.

  The guy frowned, his brow furrowing. “What butt?”

  Elizabeth just laughed and ignored him, hooking her arm through Jane’s. “I need to find a bathroom,” she said. “I smell like a mini-bar.”

  “But he was rude—”

  “He’s drunk. Some people are rude when they’re drunk.”

  “Hey!” the guy shouted. “I’m not drunk.”

  “Okay, fine. Then he is rude,” Elizabeth retorted, biting back a grin when his face tightened. “Excuse us, fuzz butt.”

  Elizabeth managed to steer Jane a safe distance away before the urge to laugh got the better of her. She’d forgotten how seriously college guys took their beer.

  * * *

  Will was not having a good time. Then again, he hadn’t expected to—something Charlie would undoubtedly say was part of the problem. But he wasn’t sure, exactly, how anyone was supposed to have a good time here. Every corner of the frat house was occupied, mostly by shiny guys who had run into a clothing shortage. Apparently all of the hosts had decided they would be more easily identified if they went topless.

  If that wasn’t enough, the music thundering from the speakers made it damn near impossible to hear himself talk, let alone anyone else. The air was thick with the scent of sweat, underscored with hints of beer. Not even good beer.

  The second he’d stepped inside the frat house, Will had had to fight the urge to do an about-face and get as far away as his legs would take him. But he’d promised Charlie he’d go along for the ride, and he was determined to do that. Even if it killed him.

  Which, honestly, it might.

  How anyone, much less a guy he called his best friend, could look around with anything but a desire to flee was beyond him. Yet Will also admired that about Charlie, reluctant as he was to admit it. No matter where the man went, he found himself right at home, and rather happy to be there.

  Case in point…

  “I love this song!” Charlie screamed before starting some hopping motion that made him look like the Easter Bunny on steroids.

  Will had long ago decided that he had been born at the ripe old age of seventy-seven. There were so many things he didn’t understand—not in a to each their own way, but in the how does anyone capacity. He wasn’t sure he’d call whatever was offending the air at the moment music.

  Yet Charlie was bounding up and down, a dopey grin on his face. Granted, the dopey grin faltered a bit when Charlie realized Will was not joining his excursion into aerodynamics. After a few prolonged seconds, he stopped hopping, a fine layer of sweat lining his brow and molding his curly blond hair to his forehead, which wrinkled as he frowned.

  “Come on, Will,” Charlie whined. “Can’t you pretend to have fun just for one night?”

  “I said I’d come. I made no promises about enjoying myself.”

  Charlie rolled his eyes and released a dramatic sigh. “You could suck the fun out of just about anything. You know that, right?”

  Will shrugged. “And yet you still insist I come along.”

  “’Cause you need to learn how to cut loose. I’m not going to be around forever, you know.”

  Will paused and seizedCharlie by the shoulder. “Wait. You didn’t bring me here to tell me you’re dying, did you? I’d think you’d at least have the decency to get me a drink first.”

  There was a moment where Charlie was very clearly struggling to keep a straight face—a feat that had never been easy for him. When the serious moments came, he could usually pull himself together long enough to absorb the important stuff, but he was happier in the space between them. In that regard, he was Will’s polar opposite. It was likely one of the reasons they had managed to stay friends as long as they had. Will was there to translate when it seemed that Charlie never took anything seriously, and Charlie was there to explain that Will had been born in a bad mood and never grown out of it.

  Charlie attempted to glare at him a few seconds longer, then gave up with a wry smile. “Fine,” he said, and turned, scouring the room. “Drinks are—oh, yes. Let’s go get one. Now. Let’s go now. Over there. To get drinks. Now.”

  Translation: Charlie had seen a woman he found attractive.

  Will sighed and clapped his friend on the shoulder again. “Lead the way, will you?”

  “Gladly.”

  And then he was off, and Will followed, weaving between bouncing frat boys and grinding, practically nude couples, and a few giggling girls who looked just barely out of high school. Charlie didn’t spare them a glance, much to Will’s relief. Instead, he continued in a solid beeline toward the table spread with the night’s alcoholic offerings.

  Two girls were standing next to an ice-filled bucket, which crested with the bottlenecks of subpar beer, and Will knew immediately who had caught his friend’s eye. The girl on the right wore a cream sweater, a pair of hip-hugging slacks of the same color, and the contrast to her rich, dark skin created the illusion of a perpetual spotlight. Her brown hair had been pulled from her face and pinned at her nape in an elegant twist. She was, in a word, stunning, and every bit Charlie’s type.

  Her friend was laughing so hard her body seemed to be caving in on itself for support. Her eyes were squeezed shut, her face sparkling with tears. She wore black leggings paired with boots that wrapped around her calves, and a vibrant red blouse that was shorter in the front than the back. Her skin was the color of moonlight—a beacon in a sea of spray tans. Her long brown hair fell in tumbles around her shoulders, a bit wild but in such a way he could tell it was intentional. And the earnest way she laughed made her shine.

  For a moment, Will felt like he had been sucker punched. His chest tightened, a ball of pressure collapsing somewhere in the vicinity of his gut. The air seemed to pulse, pulling on him until his feet gave way and he found himself moving closer. It had been a long time, a damn long time, since he’d had such a visceral reaction to a woman. Since his skin had hummed and his palms had dampened, and his tongue had found itself stuck to the roof of his mouth.

  He didn’t like it. Especially here. He was too old for coeds. Didn’t matter that he was one himself—the unexpected break he’d taken from finishing his degree meant the students who were his peers also happened to be dramatically younger, and he had no interest in getting involved with someone who couldn’t yet legally drink.

  Or at all with anyone from Meryton. They had a reputation.

  He knew this, yet knowing it didn’t magically make the woman he was looking at—no, the girl; she couldn’t be a woman yet—less appealing.

  It just made her dangerous.

  Charlie nudged him hard on the shoulder, breaking Will out of his stupor. “Come on. Introduce me.”

  Will blinked. “What do you mean, introduce you?”

  “What do you think I mean?”

  “I think if I’m going to introduce you to someone, I should know who that someone is first.”

  Charlie pointed as though it was obvious. “Her,” he said. Will noted that his eyes had taken on a somewhat dreamy, faraway look.

  “Yes,” he said, torn between irritation and amusement. “I put that together.”

  “So what’s the problem? Introduce me.”

  “The problem is I don’t know her. An introduction from me isn’t going to mean much, is it?”

  That seemed to snap Charlie out of his stupor. He blinked and gave his head a shake, then favored Will with a skeptical look.

  “What?” Will asked.

  “Everyone on campus knows who you are and you know it.”

  Ah. There it was. The curse of his family legacy surfaced again. Will sighed heavily. “I still don’t know them, so I’m not going to—”

  “Do that thing from How I Met Your Mother.”

  “The old sitcom?”

  Charlie nodded with barely contained enthusiasm. His attention had returned fully to his target again, and the dreamy look was back.

/>   Will refused to follow suit. He didn’t need to find the brunette any more intriguing than he already did. It was bad enough that he could hear her talking, her voice animated, and the few words that cut through the noise were not only multi-syllabic, but used in the correct context.

  “Just walk up to them,” Charlie instructed, “and ask if they’ve met me.”

  “Why on earth would I do that?”

  “Because you’re a good friend and that’s what good friends do.”

  “Make asses out of themselves?”

  “When necessary.”

  “Why can’t you introduce yourself?”

  Charlie broke away from salivating over the pair long enough to favor Will with a smirk. “’Cause I have you here to do it for me.”

  Will rolled his eyes. “You’re a grown man, Charlie. You pay your taxes and everything. Go introduce yourself.”

  “That’s boring.” But Charlie didn’t need any actual encouragement, it seemed, because he had stumbled forward without further prompting.

  Will would have been annoyed if he weren’t amused, because that was his friend all over.

  Charlie didn’t need help with women. He enjoyed getting it where he could, and even further enjoyed pushing Will hard against his own boundaries to see if his comfort level had any give. On occasion it did, but not by much and not often. And when push came to shove, Charlie thankfully knew when to knock it off and respect that the line.