" My heart races and I look away. “Well I care. So, write it down. For nine weekends and eight thousand dollars, what's yours is mine including your friends.” I throw in a little sarcastic eye flutter. “We're going to be so head-over-heels-in-love. I can't wait to see how romantic you are!”
“Oh no. I refuse to be your kind of bumper-sticker-romantic. Don't mistake me for Mr. Darcy.”

I gasp. “You don't know Hunger Games or Forks, Washington, but you know Mr. Darcy? Start talking.”

“Crap! My grandmother's a fan. She's tortured me since birth with Mr. Darcy. Thanks to her DVD collection, I can quote Jane Austen faster than the Elmo song.”

I laugh, surprised again. “Prove it.”

“Elizabeth, daaarling!” He's launched into a breathless English accent. “I love, love, love you, and I never want to be parted from you from this day forward. Pardon me, whilst I puke…”

“No way!” I beam. “Let the contract state that I want the Mr. Darcy accent once a week!” I can't help but laugh again because he's shaking his head and laughing back. "

― Anne Eliot , Almost