Beginning, Previous Section , Section III, Next Section
Posted on: 2013-10-03
Elizabeth stopped the truck and smiled as she got out. Darcy was not going to taint her good mood. "Car trouble?"
Darcy was evidently shocked to see her. He gave her one of his famous stares and blinked twice as though to make sure he was not imagining her. "Liz?"
"In the flesh."
"What are you doing here?" It almost sounded like an accusation.
"Heading to the Rosings conference. Guessing you are as well?"
"Yeah. Trying to." He sighed.
"I'm surprised you didn't just fly to Sun Valley." She couldn't imagine that the price of tickets would even enter the equation as far as he was concerned.
"I had a meeting in Boise."
"I see." Elizabeth looked at the driver. "Need a jump start?"
The driver shook his head. "Afraid we need a tow, ma'am."
"That's going to take a while," said Elizabeth. She paused for a moment, then looked at Darcy. "You want to come with me?" Offering him a ride seemed like the decent thing to do. And Elizabeth was in a charitable mood.
Darcy looked at the red truck behind her with undisguised contempt. "In that?"
She laughed. There was something oddly comforting about the consistency of Darcy's derision. It seemed that time away had not rendered him more charming. "You're welcome to wait here for your tow, Will."
He studied her for a moment, then looked at the driver. "You ok to wait here alone?"
The driver seemed surprised at the question. "Yes, of course, sir."
"Ok," said Darcy as he handed him a tip. "Could you coordinate with my assistant and make sure another car is ready for me in Sun Valley?"
"Yes, Mr. Darcy." The driver nodded as he moved Darcy's luggage into the Ford F-150.
"Ok, let's do this," said Elizabeth.
Darcy followed her in silence and got into the truck with as much dignity as was humanly possible. She suppressed a grin as she observed that a fine Italian suit most certainly did not belong in a Ford F-150. The truck was so tall she almost needed a ladder to climb in and as she did, she noticed Darcy staring at her legs intently. Belatedly, she realized that in her unladylike efforts to get into the truck, her skirt had moved out of place, revealing her scars.
She sighed as she started the engine. "Go on, ask your questions."
Darcy looked at her awkwardly and made guttural noises that sounded like disconnected thoughts trying to morph into words.
"It's fine, really. I already caught you staring, Will, so might as well satisfy your curiosity," said Elizabeth.
"I didn't mean to...- uhh, stare. It was an accident. I wouldn't dream of invading your privacy."
"I'm sure you won't ask me anything I haven't been asked before. I find scars to be real conversation starters. People really don't know what to make of them and yet are compelled to ask all sorts of questions. Kids are the best, though. At least they tell you exactly what's on their mind. It's refreshing to hear unvarnished thoughts sometimes, you know before society can tell you what's appropriate and acceptable."
"Yeah. I can relate. I tend to say unacceptable things sometimes."
"Sometimes?" Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. "Nice try, Will, but it's not charming to say socially unacceptable things beyond the age of five."
Darcy sighed. "There's always a catch with you, isn't there?"
She smiled. "I am not the one who invented the rules, Will."
"Maybe. But you certainly enforce them with zeal." Darcy was silent for a moment. He stared at her legs now appropriately covered by her skirt, and she shifted uncomfortably, fully aware that he still only saw her scars. "Those are from Iraq, I take it?"
"Yes, I should hope so. I'd have to be especially clumsy to gain such fine specimens on my own, don't you think?" Elizabeth laughed. Darcy did not seem inclined to join in her mirth, so she added, "I had intended to come back with scars just of the invisible kind. Baghdad obviously had other ideas."
"I'm sorry."
Elizabeth shrugged. "Don't be. I'd say the scars give me character, but I'm afraid they just make me look hideous."
"You could never look hideous."
Elizabeth blushed as she glanced at him, but said nothing. She never knew how to respond to compliments, especially ones that were so entirely unexpected and delivered with so much feeling. Maybe the fresh mountain air was making Darcy lightheaded, forcing him to say things he did not really mean. He seemed entirely earnest though, which thoroughly confused her. He probably just felt grateful for the ride. She had just saved him from a tedious, multi-hour sojourn in the middle of the highway, after all. That had to count for something. Perhaps he just intended to return the favor by paying her nice compliments. Unluckily for him, her regard was not so easily purchased.
"Does it hurt?" Darcy asked.
Apparently the question and answer session was not over. She had to remind herself that she had encouraged him. "Not anymore."
"It must have been hard at the beginning." It was more of a statement than a question.
She felt her pulse quicken as she was instantly transported to a place she wished to never see again. She could hear the orchestra of hospital instruments, the beeps of various sonorous textures, some more urgent than others. Beep... beep... beep. Most days, the unending melody was first interrupted by the doctors on their morning rounds. So many hushed voices discussing her in dispassionate, clinical terms. She was just a collection of body parts mangled by glass and metal, a perfect case study for students of trauma surgery. By 8 am, breakfast arrived, and she tentatively opened her eyes. Still surrounded by IVs and tubes and bandages, she promptly shut her eyes, willing herself back to unconsciousness. Just one more minute, one more minute when all of this is not real. But closing her eyes never did dull the pain, and so, she allowed herself to cry until it was necessary to stop. The nurses were used to the crying. Sometimes they brought her extra chocolate pudding, but mostly, they just looked at her with a sad smile. The entire hospital was filled with countless others just like her, others who had lost something or someone, others who had surrendered, perhaps forever, a portion of themselves to an experience that was as indelible as it was indescribable. In those early days, she only really stopped crying when her family came to visit. She had to be brave for them. She could see the terror in their eyes. She had to smile for them. And so she did. Always a happy smile. See? I'm fine, really.
Banishing those memories, Elizabeth cleared her throat. "It was. But more for my family, I think. I always knew the risks I was taking could catch up to me someday."
"You got yourself into a dangerous business."
"Yeah. I guess."
"You're incredibly brave, you know." There was a hint of admiration in his voice.
Brave. It was such a loaded word. She certainly did not feel brave, at least not compared to the soldiers and civilians caught in the crossfires of a war she had mostly observed from a safe distance and catalogued one story at a time. She finally understood why soldiers often flinched when they were labeled heroes. No one wanted to be commended for doing a job and not dying in the process. That hardly felt like an accomplishment. And perhaps, the real act of bravery would have been to return to the field, ignoring the crushing waves of change in her profession. But she had not done that. She was letting the new world order defeat her, and in her book, that made her pragmatic, not brave. Because in the end, only the pragmatic survive long enough to make any sort of lasting impression. And that was enough for her. It had to be.
Elizabeth found a light tone as she responded. "Some may say incredibly stupid. My mom thinks I went to Iraq to spite her."
"Did you?"
"No, not exactly. Although the fact that she was so vehemently opposed was definitely an added benefit."
If she expected Darcy to laugh, she was disappointed for he responded with characteristic gravity. "I'm sure your family was just worried about you, Liz."
Elizabeth saw Jane's smiling face flash in front of her eyes and sighed. "I know. And it's not what they expected of me. But you wouldn't understand that."
"Why?"
"You've probably never done anything that wasn't expected of you."
"You think I'm completely predictable?" Darcy sounded hurt.
"Aren't you?"
"I may surprise you yet, Liz."
She glanced at him. He seemed utterly serious, so she said, "Should I be afraid? I did just pick up a hitchhiker in the middle of nowhere."
Darcy smiled. "Yes, your parents would not be pleased. Haven't you seen any horror movies?"
"Well, in my defense, I didn't think a man in such a fine suit would want to get his hands dirty by murdering me."
"You're enjoying this, aren't you?"
"What?"
"Me in this truck."
"Oh yeah." Elizabeth smiled. "If I did the whole Twitter thing, I would totally tweet a picture of you sitting in this truck. Sighted - media mogul in a fancy suit in a fabulous Ford F-150... with an unidentified, devastatingly beautiful brunette."
"Devastatingly beautiful?" Darcy smiled as he raised an eyebrow.
"Hey, it's my imaginary tweet. Let me have my moment." She laughed, then added, "Ok fine, maybe predictable is not the right word to describe you. How do you feel about responsible?"
He considered it for a moment. "Can't argue with that. I have to be responsible. Comes with the territory. What about you? Don't you have responsibilities?"
"Me? I try to avoid responsibilities as much as possible."
"Really? And why is that?"
"It's a one way road, Will. Who is responsible for what happens to me in the end? It all seems so dreadfully asymmetric."
"What drives you, then? What drove you to Iraq, for instance?"
"Someone had to tell the world what was happening out there. Even if no one cared to listen."
"Isn't that just another sort of responsibility? Telling us the inconvenient truths we'd rather not hear?"
"I guess you can say that. I would call it more of a compulsion, really."
"Is that all there is to it? A quest for the truth? Or did you also get an adrenaline rush from being at the forefront of history?"
"It's funny you ask. The first time someone asked me that, I was really offended. Truthfully, I don't know. I'm sure it was a bit of both. This is just who I am. Or what I am. Or was, anyway."
"And you're not anymore?"
She looked at him. "If I knew the answer to that, I wouldn't have so many problems, Will." They were silent for a moment, so Elizabeth decided to change the topic. "Where have you been all this time, anyway?"
"Traveling for work."
"For so long? What has it been, a month?"
"Almost six weeks, actually."
"Ah yes, last time I saw you was at that fundraiser. Anne thinks I drove you out of town, you know."
"She thinks what?" Darcy's tone had a subtle, but obvious edge.
"Relax, it was just a joke, Will."
"Right. Yeah." Darcy paused. "I did have work."
"I'm sure you did. No one is claiming otherwise."
"So... how are things in New York?"
Elizabeth thought about Charles' desertion and the rift between her and Jane and summarized it with one word. "Fine."
"So are you covering this conference for the Times, then?"
"No, I'm speaking on a panel, actually."
"Oh?"
"Yeah, kind of a last minute thing. It's about the ethics of wartime journalism."
"Should be interesting."
"Yeah. Let's hope so. You go to this conference every year too?"
Darcy nodded. "Aunt Catherine would be very upset if I didn't. Plus it's a pretty terrific conference."
"Lots of marquee deal making, huh?"
"Sometimes."
"Well, I'm excited to be out here. From what Anne and Richard have told me, your family's house is amazing."
"You're staying at the house with us?" Yet again, his surprise was evident.
"Yes. Is that a problem?"
"Umm... no," Darcy said rather unconvincingly.
Darcy said no more, and Elizabeth guessed that it was, indeed, a problem. For a moment, she considered informing him that between work and the conference, she really wouldn't be intruding on his space for more than a few minutes every day. But she decided against it. There was something satisfying about Darcy's apparent discomfort, and she did not intend to miss the opportunity to privately laugh at his expense. For the remainder of the journey, they drove in a companionable silence that was accompanied by the rhythmic rumbles of the engine, the soft strains of classic rock and the occasional furtive glance. By the time they arrived in Sun Valley, it was late afternoon, and the de Bourgh house was empty. Elizabeth parked the truck in the driveway and whistled softly. Anne's vivid descriptions had not done the place justice. The house itself looked like one of those majestic ski resorts with the right balance of rustic beauty and luxurious comfort, but it was the surrounding views that really took her breath away. Tall, luscious trees, manicured shrubbery and a panorama of wild flowers created a spectacular veil of privacy around the house that was ultimately dwarfed - in size and consequence - by the mountains. Elizabeth imagined Anne and her cousins returning to this view after spending many a winter day skiing and summer day hiking and understood why Anne had begged her to come. In this little corner of the world, tucked away in the wilderness that demanded your attention, it was impossible not to dwell on your own insignificance. And all of a sudden, nothing really seemed all that daunting anymore.
"So... what do you think?" Darcy asked.
Elizabeth smiled at him. "It's perfect."
Darcy looked at her intently. "It is, isn't it?" He paused, then said, "You can spend a week out here and figure out what's important to you, what you really want in life."
She gave him a cheeky grin. "And what's in the running, Will? What does a guy who already runs the world really want?"
"Maybe if you behave yourself, you'll find out eventually."
A little surprised at Darcy returning her teasing tone, she glanced at him and saw that he had a satisfied grin on his face. "I never behave myself. You know that, Will. And you forget that I'm a reporter. I always find out the truth in the end."
"So, Elizabeth, I hear that you're working for The New York Times now?"
Elizabeth smiled. It sounded like an innocent question, but given the nature of the questioner, she knew she should be prepared for an interrogation or a lecture or maybe both if she was lucky. Catherine de Bourgh was a woman of deeply held convictions that were rarely swayed by facts. Her steadfast belief in her own consequence, though innate, was augmented by the felicitous nature of her familial connections. She belonged to an august New England family that had produced several generations of prominent politicians. In fact, it had been more than fifty years since there hadn't been a Senator Fitzwilliam in Washington for her brother had followed in the footsteps of their late father. Personally, Catherine found politics rather boring and limiting, so, instead, she had chosen to pursue the relatively unencumbered path of a philanthropist. Her late husband, Lewis de Bourgh had hailed from an equally distinguished family, and together they had directed the appropriation of the family fortune that was so vast that it would take generations just to gamble away. While Catherine's avowed purpose in life was to be useful to others, those who knew her could not deny that her real passion was professing her opinions - whether solicited or not - and having the wealth and influence of the Fitzwilliam and de Bourgh families behind her just afforded her the liberty to deliver those opinions unchallenged.
"Yes, Mrs. de Bourgh, I am."
"And how do you get on there?"
"Very well. No complaints yet."
"Well, it was about time you stopped trying to freelance, whatever that means."
"Yes, indeed," said Elizabeth with a sly glance at Darcy, who was sitting across the dinner table. "After all, it's not like freelancing is a real job."
Darcy made a noise that sounded halfway between a cough and a snort, while Catherine just nodded in agreement. "No, it's not. You don't have any more foolish notions about covering war from the field, do you?"
"I think not."
"It's good to know you have come to your senses. War is no place for a woman. I can't believe your parents allowed it."
"It wasn't really up to them. They tried to stop me, believe me. I guess I'm just exceptionally persuasive."
"Nonsense. It's up to the parent to mold the child."
Elizabeth could not resist a smile. "Maybe. Unless the child's happiness is at stake."
"Happiness is a state of mind, Elizabeth."
Elizabeth found that she could not really argue that point. "True. Well, sometimes you just have a stubborn child, I guess."
"Like my Anne, you mean?"
Elizabeth felt Anne glaring at her in silence. "Oh, I don't know that I would characterize Anne as stubborn, per se."
"Oh, but I would," said Catherine. "She is very dogged in all her pursuits, wise or not. In fact, she would have made quite a good journalist had her health allowed it. And come to think of it, I would have as well if I had ever studied journalism."
Elizabeth smiled. "I don't doubt it, Mrs. de Bourgh. You are a force to be reckoned with. And besides, these days there isn't much study required to be a journalist, especially in a war zone. All you really need is a basic command of the English language and a laptop with an internet connection."
"And a reckless lack of concern for your own safety, it would seem."
Elizabeth laughed. "That certainly helps."
Anne decided it was time to intervene. "Mom, everything all set for the conference?"
"I expect so," replied Catherine. "Billy has been sending me excitable emails all day, but I believe everything is under control."
"When is Billy not excitable?" Anne rolled her eyes. Billy Collins was The Rosings Foundation's Program Director, a position he took vastly more seriously than necessary.
"That may be true, dear," said Catherine. "But this conference is the marquee event of the year. And I am just glad that at least someone is loyal to Rosings."
"Really? We need to discuss this again right now?" Anne sighed as she put down her fork.
"It's not like you return my phone calls that often, Anne."
"Because I don't want to keep having the same discussion with you."
Elizabeth shifted in her seat uncomfortably. "Maybe I should go and...- get the dessert."
"No, Elizabeth. You will stay and witness what a stubborn child I have," said Catherine.
Elizabeth looked at Anne, who just nodded her head. Anne was silent for a moment before saying, "I don't know what you want from me."
"Please, Anne. Feigned ignorance does not suit you."
"Fine. I know exactly what you want. And I'm sorry, but you're never going to get it. I am never going to stop being sick. I am never going to marry someone you deem appropriate, which as far as I can tell, just means someone from a rich, stodgy family. And I am most definitely never going to come work with you."
Catherine was silent for a moment. "I am sorry you find the foundation I built with your father so objectionable."
Anne sighed. "I don't, mom. But it's not my passion."
"And being a tax attorney is?" Catherine's tone was almost mocking.
"As hard as it is for you to accept, yes."
"Well, that is just a travesty. What about your health?"
"What about it?"
"Those long hours working can't be good for you."
"No, being stressed out by my mother every week is not good for me," said Anne, a flash of anger in her voice. "I am not an invalid. I just have Crohn's disease, and I am managing just fine. I know you'd much rather I come live with you, so you can hover over me and run my life, but those days are over. I have a job. I have friends. I have a life. Just try to be happy for me, ok? Some days I wonder if you wish that I was still too sick to function so you could have the satisfaction of my dependence."
With those words and an apologetic glance at Elizabeth and her cousins, Anne stood up and left the dining room. After a moment, Elizabeth excused herself and found Anne standing in the kitchen staring at the counter. "You ok?"
Anne looked at Elizabeth. "Yeah. Sorry. I kind of lost it."
Elizabeth nodded. "Well, to be fair to your mother, I don't get the tax attorney thing, either."
Anne laughed. "God, I'm so glad you're here."
"At your service." Elizabeth smiled. "I'm sure she means well."
"Right. I don't think I need to remind you that well intentioned mothers are their own brand of crazy."
"Definitely. Maybe we can try a mother swap sometime. I can manage yours just fine."
"That you can. But then, you can manage everyone just fine. By the way, don't think I didn't notice your little dig at Darce."
"That was just for you, my friend. I doubt Will noticed or cared."
"Au contraire, he almost choked on his soup, I think. I know you're not a fan, but try not to kill him, ok? I kind of like the guy."
"I'll try," said Elizabeth solemnly. "No guarantees, though."
"You're all talk. I know you gave him a ride today. That was nice of you."
Elizabeth shrugged. "Well, I'm a nice person. Don't let the exterior fool you. I couldn't just leave him on the side of the road."
"Plus I'm guessing you wanted to see his reaction to riding in your truck."
"Obviously."
"And?"
"He managed it better than I would have thought. Only complained about it twice."
"And you say he's all bad."
"Self preservation is a powerful motivator. I doubt he wanted to arrive in Sun Valley on foot."
Anne laughed in agreement and gave Elizabeth a hug. "Thanks. You know just how to cheer a girl up."
"Shall we go back then?"
Anne sighed. "If we must."
"Just one week," said Elizabeth. "How much trouble can we get into in one measly week?"
Posted on: 2013-10-17
"And finally, for the last panel today, we are fortunate to have with us three remarkable journalists with extensive experience in covering geopolitical conflicts. To my right is Javier Vega. Mr. Vega has covered the Lebanese civil war, the first Gulf war, the Iraq war and many facets of the Israeli-Palestinian conflicts. He is considered a premier expert on the Middle East and is currently the Beirut bureau chief for Agence France-Presse. Next to him is Elizabeth Bennet. Ms. Bennet spent four years covering the Iraq war as a freelance journalist and is currently an editor on the Middle East desk for The New York Times. And lastly, we have Liam Goulding. Mr. Goulding is an expert on Russia and eastern Europe and has covered several significant events in the region, including the collapse of the Soviet Union, the Bosnian war and the conflict in Chechnya. He is currently the Moscow bureau chief for CNN." The moderator, Therese Jenkinson, paused. "Liz, let's start with you?"
"Sure. Thanks for having me," said Elizabeth. "I guess we're going in ascending order of competency and experience?"
The crowd laughed, and Therese smiled. "Actually, we wanted to begin with embedded journalism, and you're the only one on this panel with relevant field experience."
"Ok. Shoot," said Elizabeth.
"Can you briefly describe embedded journalism for our audience's benefit?"
"Sure." Elizabeth turned to face the audience. "Embedded journalism refers to the practice of reporters being attached to military units during armed conflict. While there has always been some level of interaction between the press and the military during times of conflict, this relationship really got codified during the Iraq war."
"And you were embedded during the Iraq war on two separate occasions?"
"Correct. Mosul in 2005, and Basra in 2006."
"And what can you tell us about the decision to embed with the military?"
"Look, let's be honest, this whole scheme is riddled with conflicts of interest. You travel with the military, you depend on them for your safety, you see the conflict through their eyes in a way. It's clearly impossible to be completely objective. But sometimes there really wasn't another way to get to the front lines."
"Because of the danger?"
"Right." Elizabeth nodded. "It was dangerous to be a journalist in Iraq, period. But if you wanted to be on the front lines, to really see what was happening, sometimes your best bet was to travel with the military forces."
"And what were the rules of engagement?"
"I can't divulge all the details, obviously, but suffice it to say that the military had sort of a veto power if they felt you were disclosing sensitive information like troop movements, locations, other classified information."
"So sort of a final editorial say?"
"Well, not exactly, but something like that. The intent was to prevent journalists from compromising the mission. But I think it's fair to say this arrangement was sometimes abused by both sides."
"In what way?"
"We were both using each other. The press and the military had this kind of unholy - but somewhat necessary - alliance, where we used them for access and protection, and they used us to try to get the story told from their point of view."
"I see."
"You know how they say that history is written by the victors? The truth is that history is written by those who have the pen. So you can imagine how much pressure there is, especially in the field, to influence those of us who control that pen in our own insignificant way."
Therese nodded. "Great. This may be a good time to open this up to the other panelists. How does the press maintain objectivity when it depends on one of the actors in a war for access and protection? Javier, any thoughts?"
"Thanks, Therese," said Javier. "You want me to follow Liz? Clearly this is not in ascending order of anything but age." He beamed at Elizabeth. "Liz has the right idea. It's impossible to be truly objective in that situation, but I say, so what? If you state your biases up front, then I don't see the difference versus what we do all day long, anyway. The objectivity of the press is a myth. We are all human beings with particular perspectives and views. And the truly talented reporter is one who connects with the audience on that human level. It would be a shame if we tried to erase our humanity in order to tell a story filled with so-called facts."
"So how does the audience trust your perspective? What separates reporting from propaganda?" Therese asked.
"I'm glad you asked," said Javier. "Just because you have perspectives does not mean you don't ask the pertinent questions and try to find the truth. And perhaps, more importantly, from the point of view of the embed, you have to make sure you capture the other side of the equation."
"As in the enemy?"
"Well, yeah," said Javier. "And the civilians. Liz is too modest to boast about her own accomplishments, but she did a reverse embed with the Sunni insurgency during the height of the pre-surge crisis. Most people thought she was totally crazy - and she probably was - but that experience gave her another perspective she could not have obtained from traveling with the U.S. troops. That's what separates real reporting from propaganda. You keep searching for the truth, and sometimes, it's a lot more complicated than you ever thought. And you just have to trust your instincts to differentiate between spin and sincerity."
"Liam?" Therese turned to her third panelist. "Anything to add?"
Liam was silent for a moment. "I generally agree with Javier and Liz. In the quest for objectivity, I think we've lost our thirst for the truth. These days, you can report assertions from both sides of an argument and call it a day. That's not reporting. That is simply regurgitating carefully drafted talking points. I don't know what you call it, but in my day, they sure didn't call it journalism."
"In some ways, that's what makes the embed so powerful," added Elizabeth. "And seductive. You get to experience what a dust storm feels like in the middle of the desert. You get to be hot and uncomfortable in the back of a Humvee. Maybe you even get ambushed at a checkpoint. If you're lucky, in those human moments, the talking points fall away, and you get to peek behind the facade."
"And what did you find behind that facade?" asked Therese.
"Very surprising things," said Elizabeth. "Shocking things. And suddenly, I wasn't really all that concerned about the propriety of the situation. I wasn't there to tell the story from any one point of view. But I was there to understand the war from the perspective of the men and women who put their lives at risk every day for their country. How could that be unethical? I knew the Pentagon had another angle. That's ok. I had mine." She paused and added with a smile, "Like I said, we used each other."
"And so the embed is here to stay?"
"Every war must have its PR," said Elizabeth. "That's hardly a new concept. But this way, maybe we have some level of honesty amongst all the bravado. The onus is really on the journalists to actually do their jobs, to ask the tough questions, to hold people accountable."
"That's a yes," Javier helpfully translated with a smile. "The embed is definitely here to stay."
The panel discussed the nuances of embedded journalism a little while longer and then moved on to other aspects of ethics in wartime journalism. Once the panel concluded, Elizabeth thanked the moderator and then chatted with members of the audience who had gathered in front of the auditorium to speak to the panelists. From the corner of her eye, she spied her friends waiting for her patiently. When the opportunity presented itself, she excused herself and smiled as she joined them.
"So?"
"You were awesome." Anne gave her a big hug.
"More than sufficient," said Richard.
"Thanks." Elizabeth laughed. "Since my goal was to not disappoint my boss or embarrass my publication, I am quite pleased with my self-restraint."
A voice behind her said, "Restraint from what? Were you planning on abusing anyone on stage?"
Elizabeth turned around to see Darcy. "No. But I have been told my unfiltered thoughts can sometimes be controversial. And unpleasant." She paused. "So, Will, why were you sitting in the front row, staring at me so intently? I can only assume you meant to rattle me. I'm sorry I disappointed you. In time, you'll learn that I'm very stubborn and that my courage always rises with every attempt to intimidate me."
Darcy smiled. "I won't bother denying your allegations because you couldn't seriously believe that I had any intention of alarming you. And I've known you long enough to realize that you find great enjoyment in occasionally professing opinions which, in fact, are not your own."
Elizabeth laughed at this picture of herself and then looked at Darcy's cousins. "Your cousin will teach you not to believe a word I say."
"Don't worry, Liz," said Richard. "We barely believe anything you say, as it is."
"Well, that's not useful. Who will believe me when I unload all my complaints against the great William Darcy?" said Elizabeth.
"I am not afraid of you," said Darcy with a smile.
"Is that a challenge?" Elizabeth raised her eyebrow.
"What do you have to accuse him of?" asked Richard.
"Horrifying manners," said Elizabeth with mock seriousness. "The first time I met him, he barely spoke more than a syllable at a time. Anne can verify my version of events."
Anne shook her head. "I'm staying out of this."
"I didn't know you. Or your sister," said Darcy. "I have a hard time with new people. I...- I'm ill qualified to recommend myself to strangers."
"Really?" said Elizabeth. "Why should that be the case? Why should a man of sense and education, a man who has lived in the world, be ill qualified to recommend himself to strangers?"
"I can answer that," Richard interjected. "It's because he won't trouble himself."
"I certainly don't have the talent which some people possess," said Darcy, "of conversing easily with those I've never met before. I can't catch their tone of conversation or appear interested in their concerns."
"And my public speaking skills are a little subpar, but I've always assumed it's my fault because I can't be bothered to practice," Elizabeth replied. "I don't particularly think that I'm somehow incapable of speaking as well as others. It's a question of desire, not talent."
"You're right," said Darcy. "You've employed your time much better. No one admitted to the privilege of hearing you speak could find anything lacking." He paused, then added, "We neither of us perform for strangers."
Elizabeth looked at him for a moment. "I believe I just did." She saw Javier standing alone, looking at her with a quizzical smile. "Excuse me. I need to catch up with an old friend."
As Elizabeth walked towards Javier, his smile grew into a grin. "Liz," said Javier as he hugged her. "So I see you're acquainted with the William Darcy."
"Yeah. Some may even call us friends."
"And would they be wrong?"
"I guess not. It was unavoidable. You could say I'm his friend under protest."
"You always did take a stand when it wasn't, strictly speaking, necessary."
Elizabeth chuckled. "We must all leave our mark somehow."
"He's young, almost too young to be the CEO of such a huge empire, no?"
Elizabeth shrugged. "Yeah, I guess. He's only a couple of years older than me. He's been at it for years, though. Maybe practice makes perfect?"
"I vaguely remember reading the news when his father passed away suddenly. I think we were in Baghdad then?"
"Yeah, you're right. It was 2006, I think. Apparently, his mother had died of cancer 3 years earlier, and they say his father died of a broken heart. It's all terribly romantic."
Javier smiled. "And we know how much romance offends you. But I'm willing to bet that Darcy has a different take. That's a lot of responsibility for someone so young. And a lot of loss, for that matter."
"Don't worry about Will, Javier. He revels in responsibility. And I can't say I've ever heard him express anything resembling sorrow or regret regarding his parents. I think he'll be just fine."
"Not to belabor the point, but if he did harbor any sorrow or regret, I doubt he'd express it to you."
"And why is that?"
"Because you're so naturally skeptical and suspicious. That makes you quite intimidating."
"I think that just makes me a good journalist."
"It makes you a great one. But it still isn't easy for someone to confide in you. Especially a man."
"Given that ringing endorsement, it's absolutely astounding that I have any friends at all."
"You know that's not what I mean. You don't believe in blind loyalty. You never have. You're always assessing and evaluating everything. That makes it hard at the beginning. But once you love someone, once you choose to be their friend, you are the most fiercely loyal person I've ever known."
"Imagine that. Is my undying love really enough of an inducement to endure so much unpleasantness?"
"It would appear so. Why else would so many of us subject ourselves to all the indignities?"
"I don't know if there are so many of you."
"Oh, but there are. Don't get me wrong, I love blind loyalty as much as the next guy. Who doesn't? But to have your loyalty, to have your friendship...- it's like being part of a secret, super exclusive club that you weren't even aware existed."
Elizabeth laughed. "Let's hope this club is worth the price of admission." She paused. "I forgot how much I missed you."
"I take it there aren't many other people around who flatter you as shamelessly?"
"Not nearly enough. I'm sorry I'm so bad at keeping in touch."
"Don't worry. I might be worse."
"I didn't know you were in Beirut these days."
"Yeah, I've been there almost two years now."
"And I thought I flew a long way to come to this thing."
"I know, right. Well, it was hard to turn down the offer to speak here. And I haven't seen my folks in a while, so figured I'd take some time to see them while I'm over here."
"Are you here much longer?"
"No, I'm flying out this evening, actually."
"And how's Juliana?"
"Don't know. We're not together anymore."
"Oh." Elizabeth bit her lip. "I'm sorry. I didn't know."
"It's all right. I think it's probably for the best."
Elizabeth was silent for a moment. "What happened?"
"She didn't want to move to Beirut. Can't say that I blame her."
"This life...- it's not for everyone."
"Yeah. Well, she knew what to expect when she married me. I never lied to her. But managed to disappoint her all the same. It's quite a feat, really."
"It happens."
"Especially to people like us. You'd think with all the disappointing, we'd be better at it by now. But it still hurts, you know? I'm just not sure what she thought would happen."
"Easy. She thought you'd get tired of living like a nomad and want to settle down or something. In her defense, that's what most of the world wants. And people do change sometimes."
"Not that often, though. What about you? How you holding up?"
"Ok, I guess. All things considered."
"I'm surprised you're not back out there. Of the two of us, my money would have been on you."
"I've thought about it. A lot."
"But?"
"I don't know. It feels impractical. After everything we went through, I came back and realized no one cared about any of it. Why should I risk my life for something that doesn't even matter? For the life of me, I can't figure out what Dylan really died for...- did it really matter in the end?"
"That doesn't sound like the Liz I knew. That Liz was never very practical when it came to her passions. What 23 year old moves to Baghdad without a concrete plan?"
"That was a long time ago. Maybe that Liz learned a life lesson or two?"
"Yeah - like what?"
"Just look at circulation trends or newspaper budgets. You really think we're in the right business?"
"Right or wrong, it's the only business I know."
"And you're still willing to put your life on the line for it?"
"Aren't you?"
Elizabeth was quiet, then shook her head. "I used to think so. There is an audience out there - however small - that cares, that wants to know the why of it all. I firmly believe that...- and it's the audience I've always wanted. That audience was worth fighting for...- and dying for. But the news business doesn't care about an audience that's not big enough to matter to the bottom line."
"We can't ignore the bottom line, Liz."
"I get that. I'm fully aware that we're facing an existential crisis. But instead of fighting our battles, we've prematurely conceded the war. The power structure isn't interested in the truth...- it's too complex, too nuanced, too grey. It's much easier to report faceless statistics that blur together. And now they have a convenient excuse to do what they've always wanted. Look, they'll say, we can't invest in these depressing stories that don't drive circulation and ad sales. And they'll blame it on conflict fatigue or disinterest or whatever. Which brings me to my grand conclusion."
"I can't wait," Javier mumbled.
Elizabeth ignored him. "The stories we want to tell don't matter. They don't matter to the powers that be and definitely don't matter to most of the audience. Good luck trying to find a way to tell those stories and reach the people who actually care. So there you have it. Now you tell me what the point is of living your life banging your head against the wall...- and getting blown up in the process?"
"Oh Liz. Holding everyone to your famously impossible standards again, I see."
"How do you figure that?"
"You always expected the world to care. Didn't Dylan and I tell you a million times to stop worrying about whether you're having an impact? The answer is almost always no, Liz."
"Why did you go back then?"
"I'd like to tell you that I'm fighting the good fight or that my imperfect stories are better than no stories at all. But the truth is that I didn't know what else to do with myself. I tried. Believe me, I tried. For Juliana's sake. And mine, I guess. I'm not doing a courageous thing here, Liz. I'm doing the only thing that makes sense to me. Life would be a lot less complicated if I could just figure out some other way...- to keep myself sane."
"Didn't work, huh?"
"No. You know..-. some people have jobs, other have careers. And some of us have obsessions. It's part of our DNA. I can't help who I am."
His words stung her as only the truth from an old friend could. She just nodded, painfully aware of the subtle reproach in his tone. Perhaps she was denying her true self, but it would probably be eminently helpful to know who she was - or wanted to be, at any rate.
Javier looked at her. "Sorry. I didn't mean to imply anything...- I didn't have it as bad as you, Liz."
She sighed. "That excuse is starting to feel really old. Even to me."
He nodded, then changed the subject. "It's good to see you up and walking. Last time I saw you, you were still hobbling around on those awful crutches."
"Has it really been that long?"
"It would seem so. Man, you really hated those things."
"They slowed me down. And patience is not really a virtue of mine."
"I'll say. Seems like you have a great gig at the Times?"
"I do."
"At least the Times is still chugging along."
"Yeah. So far, we've managed to avoid being taken over by a benevolent billionaire."
"This Bezos* news is really unbelievable. I wonder what he's going to do with the Post?"
"Ten bucks says there won't be any negative press for Amazon anymore."
"Maybe. Let's hope for a better outcome. So are you happy at the Times?"
"Yeah, I guess. But as the great Catherine de Bourgh recently told me, happiness is a state of mind."
Javier's tone was weary. "Liz..."
"What?"
"Be serious. This is your life we're talking about."
"Right. My life. Please just let me deal with it my way."
"And how is that working out?"
"Fine," said Elizabeth with a lot more confidence than she felt. "I'm fine."
Javier didn't seem convinced. "Ok. But if you change your mind, it's never too late to go out and find what makes you happy. You know that, right?"
"You make it sound so easy."
"And you, my dear, make it sound so hard."
"So are you happy in Beirut?"
He nodded. "I know it sounds crazy, but I've never been happier."
"That doesn't sound crazy at all."
He sighed. "The only thing missing is Juliana. But I guess we can't have it all."
"Well," said Elizabeth, her eyes gleaming. "You're a man. I think the whole universe is set up so that you can have it all."
He laughed heartily. "Then I'm clearly doing it all wrong." He looked at his watch. "I need to get going."
"Ok. It was really good to see you, Javier."
"You too, Liz."
"Let's try to be better at this email thing?"
"I'd love that. Take care of yourself. And Liz -- to your question earlier, Dylan chose a life full of risks. Or maybe that life chose him. But either way, it made him happy, it made him Dylan. His work revealed the essence of humanity in all its glory and horror. And that work will stand the test of time. Maybe that does not satisfy you, but it was enough for him. I think Dylan died doing what he loved. And I know he would have wanted it no other way."
She felt the heat rise in her face. "And you're qualified to know what Dylan wanted?"
"Maybe not. But neither are you."
He kissed her cheek, gave her hand a squeeze and then was on his way. She stood motionless for a few minutes, staring at nothing in particular, utterly transfixed by the ferocious intensity of her thoughts. Old friends had a way of breaching the essence of your soul in a manner that was practically impossible for anyone else. Uncomfortable questions invaded her mind at such a furious pace that she could scarcely squelch them all adequately. For a fleeting moment, she contemplated an alternative existence filled with the kind of happiness she imagined belonged in the realm of fairy tales. It felt foreign and strange and suspicious, and she closed her eyes to escape the tyranny of possibility and remind herself that she was content. But it was too late. The Pandora's box had been opened, and she could not ignore the nagging, conspiring voice in her head that whispered thoughts that were better left unsaid. Maybe Javier was right. Maybe it was a fool's errand to pretend to be satisfied with a life she would never have chosen under different circumstances. And maybe it was time for her to stop fighting who she knew she was destined to be. Simultaneously disturbed and unconvinced by the turn of her thoughts, Elizabeth shook off her gravity and forced a smile as she walked towards her next engagement. An evening of mindless mingling had never seemed more appealing.
* On August 5, 2013, Jeff Bezos, the CEO/founder of Amazon.com announced his purchase of The Washington Post for $250 million. This purchase was completed on a personal basis, i.e., Amazon will not be involved in the transaction.
Posted on: 2013-10-29
Elizabeth laced up her Brooks running shoes and looked at her watch. 5 o'clock on the dot. If the ungodly earliness of the hour was not enough to avoid Darcy, then she was ready to declare it a conspiracy or an act of celestial vengeance. Darcy had happened upon her during her morning run the day after their arrival in Sun Valley and had insisted on joining her. Since he was not much of a conversationalist and managed to effortlessly match her pace, she had not minded it all that much. But when he showed up again the next day and the day after that, she began to suspect sabotage. She tried to subtly inform him that her morning run was a sacrosanct, solitary ritual, but he did not seem inclined to take the hint. Every morning at roughly the same time, he would show up on the porch in his running clothes with a kind of boyish enthusiasm that made Elizabeth wonder if he just enjoyed torturing her. It was certainly possible that he just happened to like to run at the same time as she did, but Elizabeth didn't believe in coincidences. It wasn't entirely clear what other motivation he might have, though, as he clearly could not be enjoying her company. During these encounters, he barely spoke, preferring, instead, to practically grunt in response to the occasional question and stare at her whenever feasible. The previous morning, she had even offered to take a different trail so he could have the main one to himself, but he had vehemently protested the idea on the basis of it being too dark for her to be out alone. She still fumed at the implication that she was incapable of taking care of herself. Did he really think she was afraid of a little darkness - and in Sun Valley, of all places? And so, to prove her point and also to enjoy one of her last mornings in Sun Valley in peace, she woke up a full hour earlier than normal. And to her delight, there was no Darcy waiting for her on the porch this morning.
"Liz."
Startled, Elizabeth looked up to see Richard. "Oh, it's you."
"You sound disappointed."
"No, just relieved. I thought it was Will."
"Oh, really?" Richard gave her a knowing smile.
"Don't look so pleased," Elizabeth admonished him.
Richard attempted a serious tone as he said, "Why did you think it was Darce?"
"I have a feeling he's stalking me."
Richard raised his eyebrow. "And why would he do that?"
"Just to annoy me, probably."
"Really? That would be strange, even for Darce."
Elizabeth frowned. "Maybe I'm reading too much into this whole thing?"
"Definitely." He paused. "Someone clearly has a high opinion of herself."
"It's not like that...-" Elizabeth started to say, then shook her head. "Oh, never mind. It's not important."
"Mind if I sit here for a few minutes?" Richard pointed to the empty chair next to her.
"No. I was just about to go on my run, anyway." She paused. "Why are you up so early?"
A huge smile graced Richard's face. "I just talked to Caroline. She has a big meeting with a buyer today, so I wanted to wish her luck."
Elizabeth smiled in return. "I've never seen you this happy, Richard."
"I've never been this happy. Can you believe my luck? She's amazing. And way out of my league."
"Well, I think you're both great and really deserve each other."
"Now if you could only convince Anne." Richard sighed.
"She'll come around."
"Eventually," Richard agreed. "She has to. I think Caroline might be the one."
"Really?" Elizabeth could not conceal her surprise.
Richard glared at her. "Not you too."
"What?"
"You can't believe we're serious because...- what? She's not intellectual enough for you?"
"No, I...-"
Richard interrupted her. "I am so sick of this condescending attitude. Yes, Caroline works in fashion. But that does not automatically make her inferior to you or Anne. If you could just open your eyes and give her a chance, you would be surprised. This dismissiveness just reflects poorly on you both, and if you don't change your behavior, you will regret it."
Elizabeth patiently waited for him to finish speaking. "Are you done?"
Richard nodded in response.
"I was just surprised because I've never heard you talk about anyone like that before. I don't have anything against Caroline. And I don't believe it's fair to put me in the same category as Anne when it comes to this topic."
Richard sighed. "Sorry. You're right. It's hard to differentiate between the two of you sometimes. You're an inseparable unit."
"That we are." Elizabeth laughed. "Anyway, don't worry about Anne. She's going to be fine. She's just getting used to the idea. Give her some time. But - tell me more. Caroline's the one, huh? Have you told her yet?"
"No."
"What are you waiting for?"
"I don't know. Maybe for her to figure it out too? I'm not in any rush. I have a whole lifetime to convince her."
Elizabeth smiled. "I'm not sure she requires any convincing, but if she does, perseverance is one of your more admirable qualities, Richard."
"And annoying. Or so I've been told."
"Sometimes," Elizabeth agreed.
"So, how are you?"
Elizabeth shrugged. "Fine."
"Liz, please."
"You trying to demonstrate your annoying perseverance?"
"I wouldn't have to if you'd just talk to me," Richard said solemnly.
"Maybe I came to Sun Valley to forget about everything for a little while."
"You were doing a good job of pretending to forget everything in New York."
Elizabeth looked at him. "So what?"
"It's not healthy, Liz."
"All of a sudden, everyone's a shrink."
Richard sighed. "I'm worried about you."
"Don't be," said Elizabeth. "I've survived a lot worse."
"I know. You're one of the toughest people I know. Maybe the toughest. And I admire you for it. But I just want you to know you're not alone. You don't have to go through it all alone."
Elizabeth was silent for a moment. "Thanks. I...- I'm not so good at asking for help."
Richard laughed. "You think?"
"If...- or when I want to talk, you and Anne will be the first to know. Just not yet. Ok?"
"Ok." Richard searched her face. "How are you and Jane?"
"I don't know. Fine, I guess."
"Have you talked to her?"
"I sent her an email before I left."
"That's not the same thing."
"I know. I'll go see her when I get back. We have a lot to discuss."
"She was just trying to do what she thought was best for you."
"So I gathered. I don't particularly appreciate being handled."
"I can see that."
"Look, if you want to lecture me about how she had tough choices, just save it for another day. I don't want to hear it."
"Actually, I don't really approve of the decision she made."
"Really?" Elizabeth looked at him with surprise.
"Well, I understand her motivations, but it was wrong of her to conceal such important information from you."
Elizabeth felt tears well up in her eyes. "Thanks. I didn't expect that."
"Why?"
"Because Anne has sort of been in Jane's camp."
"Although very few suspect it, I am capable of independent thought, you know."
She smiled as she brushed away the tears. "It's good to know I'm not being irrational in my anger. I feel less...- crazy? I don't know how else to explain it."
"You're not crazy. What Jane did was wrong. She meant well, but it was very wrong. I'd be angry, too...- and probably wouldn't be faring as well. But forgiveness can be cathartic, Liz. Especially if the offender had the best of motivations. What is that old quote... holding onto anger is like drinking poison and expecting the other person to die."
"Thanks, Yoda." Elizabeth smiled. "When did you become so wise?"
Richard shrugged. "Slowly, but surely. No one pays any attention to me, and I think I benefit from exceedingly low expectations. You know, because of my pretty face."
Elizabeth laughed, then said, "I've already forgiven her. That was the easy part. I mean, it's Jane. How could I not forgive her? Now comes the hard part. Now I need to find a way to stop being angry, to go back to the way we used to be. I need to face her, talk to her." Elizabeth frowned. "And all of that hardly sounds appealing. But it must be done. Truth be told, I feel guilty that I sort of left her in the middle of her own crisis."
"You mean Charles?"
"Yeah."
"I don't really get what happened there."
"Didn't Caroline explain it to you?"
"She tried. Still didn't make sense."
"Join the club."
"Well, I have to say, I think Darce called this one."
Her ears perked up at the mention of Darcy's name, but she managed to say nonchalantly. "Oh yeah?"
"Yeah. He had his doubts about the whole thing - as did you, if I recall correctly. He had a talk with Charles before he left New York in June. Apparently Charles had been impulsive, as usual and was feeling ambivalent about the future. Darce gave him some sound advice."
Elizabeth was instantly suspicious. "What kind of advice?"
"I don't remember all the details, but it was about the difference between love and infatuation. About things to focus on...- like compatibility and values, like family."
"How magnanimous of Will to share his wisdom with his friend." Elizabeth's voice dripped with sarcasm.
"He's a very loyal and generous friend," said Richard. "You realize he has some good qualities, right? A lot more than most, I might add."
"Right," said Elizabeth, distracted, the wheels in her head turning. "So let me get this straight. Charles talks to Will and then decides that he and my sister aren't compatible. That it was all just infatuation?"
Richard shrugged. "Well, I don't know exactly. I wasn't there." Seeing the frown on Elizabeth's face, he added, "You think Darce shouldn't have said anything?"
Elizabeth's thoughts headed in the profane direction, but she said, "I don't know. Seems a little high handed. But since we don't know the particulars, maybe it's better if we don't pass judgment? Besides, if Charles really loved Jane, he wouldn't have listened to Will." There was some truth to that last statement.
"Exactly," said Richard.
"I better get going." Her tone was deceptively calm.
"Ok. Have a good run." He saw the storm brewing in her eyes and worried that he had committed a blunder.
"I'll see you later."
Jane closed her notebook and slowly rubbed her temples. It had been an especially trying morning peppered with kitchen emergencies and recalcitrant dairy suppliers, the kind of morning that made Jane rue the day she had decided to undertake the labor of love that was Longbourn Cafe. It was a passing thought, however, for Jane could imagine no other life for herself. Here, surrounded by the smells of the kitchen, the soft whispers of her ipod playlist and the smiles of her customers, she knew she was home. She stared at the table that usually served as Elizabeth's regular spot and frowned as she saw it empty, lonely, waiting. Her home was missing an essential component, and Jane was not sure how it would ever recover from the loss should the absence prove permanent. That was a possibility for which she was not prepared, for which she did not wish to be prepared. Jane believed in facing the consequences of one's choices, but in this instance, she could not allow herself to imagine a life without the one person who understood her profoundly, who trusted her implicitly, who loved her unconditionally. Perhaps not unconditionally, Jane reminded herself. She closed her eyes. She had made her choices, right or wrong, and only time would reveal the extent of her punishment. And all she could do in interim was hope for a miracle and pray for an outcome that was, perhaps, better than what she deserved. But Jane Bennet was an eternal optimist, so she opened her eyes and smiled. There was no greater folly than mourning a tragedy before its actual occurrence.
"I've been dreaming about that smile for weeks."
Jane looked up in surprise. "Charles."
"Hi Jane," said Charles.
"What are you doing here?"
"I...- I just got back to the city, and I had to see you. Can we talk?"
Jane sighed. "Charles, this is really not a good time. I have a million things to do. And really, it's fine. We don't need to discuss anything. I understand."
Charles looked at her with an intensity that made her blush. "But I have so much to discuss. I know I don't deserve it, but could you please spare me just a few minutes?"
"Ok, fine," said Jane as she stood up. "Can you walk and talk? I have a meeting with my bank in 40 minutes."
"That's perfect. Thanks, Jane."
Jane just nodded at him and grabbed her purse. "Tara, I'll be back in a couple of hours. I have my cell if you need me." She looked at Charles. "Ready?"
He followed her in silence. When they were outside, he said, "You look great."
"Thanks."
"I know you must hate me, but I wanted to explain...-"
Jane cut him off. "Charles, I don't mean to be rude, but you don't need to apologize. I don't hate you. These things happen. I understand. Like I said, we don't have anything to discuss. And this is going to sound a lot harsher than I intend, but I have more important things to worry about right now."
Her words were like a punch in the face, and it took Charles a moment to catch his breath. "You mean Liz?"
That made Jane stop mid-stride. "Yes... Liz. How do you even...? Caroline?"
Charles nodded. "Caroline sent me an email with the gist of what happened. I didn't see it until a few days ago. I was sort of unplugged from the world. But the moment I read that email, I knew where I had to be. I took the next flight back."
"That was nice of you. But completely unnecessary. I'm not sure what Caroline told you, but I'm fine. And regardless, it is no longer your duty to be by my side at times like these."
"And what if I would like for it to be my duty?"
"Charles...-" Her tone was wary.
"Don't say anything yet. Please." His tone was urgent, desperate. "How are you?"
"Fine."
"Really?"
"No," said Jane. "But I will be."
"You want to talk about it?"
"No."
"Please, just tell me how you're doing. Caroline says you haven't talked to anyone."
"And what makes you think that I'll talk to you?"
"I love you, Jane. And I think you love me, too. I can't undo the mistakes I've made. But please, just let me be here for you now."
Jane looked at him, tears welling in her eyes. "Why? Why now? I stopped wondering about you. I stopped reliving every moment to figure out where it all went so wrong. You've been gone almost two months, Charles. Why are you back now?"
Charles stopped walking and pointed at a bench. "Can we sit down for a few minutes?"
Jane nodded and followed him to the bench. "Ten minutes, max. And then, I have to go." She paused, but when she spoke, her voice was calm. "You have the floor, Charles. What did you come here to say?"
"Wow. You're a lot feistier than I remember."
"You didn't bother to stay long enough to see all sides of me."
His smile vanished, and he hung his head. "I deserve that."
"Sorry. It's been a long few weeks. I'm not trying to make you feel bad."
"Trust me. I couldn't feel worse if I tried." He looked at her for a moment. "I messed up, Jane. I don't know how else to describe it. I panicked."
"Why?"
"When I asked you to move in with me and you said no, I was shocked. I thought we were in love, so it was a natural step. I couldn't understand why you thought it made sense to wait. So I talked to Will, and he pointed out that I had been an idiot. Not just then, but in general." That won him a smile. "You see, all my life, I've fallen in love quickly. And out of love almost as quickly. Will thinks I have an atrocious track record, and he warned me to be careful. He said that I needed to think about what I was doing because moving in together was a momentous step that implied a lifetime of commitment. And what do I know about that? My longest commitment has been to my Yankees cap."
"So you didn't want to commit to me, is that it?"
"No, that's what I'm trying to tell you. I did. I do. I just wasn't sure how to process it all. Moving in with you felt right. I had never felt that way before. But when Will challenged me on how I knew it wasn't just another infatuation, I didn't have an answer. I wasn't sure how I could tell the difference."
"And that's why you wanted a break?"
Charles nodded. "Yeah. I know it sounds stupid. But I thought that if I could go away and clear my head, it would make more sense. I didn't want to risk leading you on."
"How thoughtful of you."
Charles reached for her hand. "Jane, I was wrong. A total idiot. I didn't need to be away to know this was real. To know that I loved you more than anything or anyone. To know that I wanted to be with you forever. But I did go away and think."
She pulled away her hand. "And?"
"This last month, I went to this monastery in northern Italy. Total silence and meditation and all that jazz. Very Eat, Pray, Love, to be honest. That's why I didn't get Caroline's message until a few days ago. Anyway, in those hours of meditation, I searched my soul and didn't like what I found. I've been selfish and careless with others' feelings. I didn't mean to be. I used to think I loved easily. But the truth is that I treated people callously."
"You're being harsh on yourself. You're an engaging person, Charles. People are attracted to you. It isn't difficult to see why you fall in love quickly."
"Oh Jane." He smiled at her fondly. "You're too good to me. I don't deserve you. Honestly, by the end of my stay at the monastery, all I could think of was you. Your face, your smile, your voice, your heart. I knew then that I had made a huge mistake. Letting you go, even for a minute, was a huge mistake. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me, Jane. It's different with you. I wasn't leading you on. This isn't infatuation. I love you in a way I didn't think was possible. And I'm not afraid of commitment. If anything, a lifetime doesn't feel long enough."
Jane sat in total silence, absorbing his words.
"Jane...- say something, anything."
"I don't know what to say, Charles."
"Can you forgive me?"
"There's nothing to forgive. You were following your heart, your conscience. I don't believe you ever had bad intentions."
"Can we go back to where we were?"
"I don't know."
"Jane..."
"I'm not sure I can trust you again, Charles. How do I know you won't panic about something again and disappear?"
"I promise, Jane. I'm never leaving your side again."
"I know you believe that now. But how will you feel a month or year from now?"
"I know I need to earn your trust, Jane. But if you just give me another chance, I will spend my whole life trying to be worthy of you."
Jane was silent for a moment, staring straight ahead. "I wasn't asking you for a lifetime commitment. I wasn't the one who suggested moving in together. And yet, I was here, all alone, wondering what I might have done differently, why you suddenly didn't love me anymore. You hurt me, Charles. You made me question myself."
"I know. I'm so sorry, Jane."
"You realize you could still wake up one day and tell me it was just an infatuation. How do you know it's not? Can you answer Will's question any better now?"
Charles did not hesitate. "Yes, I believe I can. You inspire me to be a better man, Jane. All my weaknesses are your strengths. I admire you and respect you and wish to emulate you. You have a generosity of spirit that astounds and humbles me. You are brilliant and wise and patient and kind. We share a love for our friends and our families. We share similar values and views on almost everything of consequence. We love the same silly movies and laugh at the same unfunny jokes. Jane, I am lost without you. I can't imagine growing old with anyone but you."
Jane said nothing.
"So, what do you say, Jane? Where do we go from here?"
She shook her head slowly. "I don't know."
Charles found that he was not above begging. "Can we please just start over completely? From the beginning. This can't be it, Jane. We're meant to be together. Please. You have to give me another chance."
"I want to. I'm just afraid."
Charles' face brightened immediately. "Well, that's a start."
She looked at him. "It is?"
"Yes. At least you still want to give me a shot. I'll take that."
"Of course I want to. I love you, Charles."
"And I love you, Jane. So, please, let's start over?"
She stared at him in silence. "You're a lot more persistent than I remember."
"Desperate times call for desperate measures."
"Perhaps. You think you're capable of talking to me instead of, you know, panicking and disappearing?"
"Absolutely."
"There's only one more shot, Charles."
"I'm aware."
"And I have to be more guarded with my heart this time around, you realize?"
He nodded. "I have no one to blame for that but myself."
"Ok, fine. We can start over and maybe try to get back to where we were. But I can't make any promises."
He smiled at her. "I completely understand. That's more than I deserve. You won't regret it." He paused, then extended his hand. "Charles Bingley."
She looked at him for a moment, then shook his hand. "Jane Bennet. Pleased to meet you."
"The pleasure is all mine."
They sat in silence for minute, then Jane stood up. "I need to get going, Charles."
"Could I walk with you, please?"
"If you wish."
"I do. Most fervently."
Jane shrugged. "Suit yourself."
He walked quietly for a few moments, then said, "So I hear Liz is pretty upset?"
Jane didn't respond immediately. "Yes, she is."
"I imagine she is scary when she is angry."
Jane laughed. "You imagine correctly."
"You guys will work it out."
"I hope so. I don't know if I can survive without her. Does that sound odd?"
"No. You have a bond that goes beyond sisters."
"I broke her trust. I don't know if she can forgive me."
"She will. She loves you, Jane. No one can stay upset at you for long."
Jane smiled at him. "Maybe I won't mind having you back, after all."
Charles offered her his arm. "Glad to be of service."
She took his arm. "Do you think it was wrong of me to conceal the truth about Dylan from her?"
Charles pondered her question for a minute before responding. "Honestly, I don't know. And I'm not just saying that because I am trying to get back in your good graces. Love can make us do all kinds of things. And I think you love her enough to lie to her if you thought it would protect her."
"I was so sure I was right. You didn't see her when she came back. She was completely broken, Charles. Mentally and physically. I couldn't add to that trauma. And she's never really recovered. I didn't see the point in telling her. But witnessing her reaction to the truth made me question my decision. Maybe she would have found some comfort in knowing. Or closure, whatever that means. But it's too late to change the past."
"She'll forgive you."
"She didn't expect this from me. No one did. People think I'm some sort of angel, incapable of human frailties. But I'm a person, too, Charles. I can lie and hate and harbor anger just like everyone else. I did what I thought was best. And maybe I was wrong. But sometimes you have to follow your convictions. And that's what I chose to do. For better or worse, as they say. Now it's time to face the music." She paused. "I'm not perfect, Charles. I can't always be perfect."
"Hey," he said softly, wiping off the stray tears streaming down her face. "You don't have to be perfect. No one should expect that of you."
"Does knowing what I did make you love me less?"
"No, it makes me love you more. I was planning on coming back after the monastery anyway, but when I saw Caroline's email, I felt this sudden urge to hold you and kiss you. Jane, your compassion, your loyalty, your protective instincts make you the best person in the world. Never doubt that. And Liz knows that. That's why she will forgive you eventually."
"Eventually is right. That girl is as stubborn as they come."
"Indeed."
"She is away at a conference, but you should be careful when she gets back to the city."
"Oh?"
"She is not likely to be as forgiving as I am."
"Thanks for the heads up. I'll watch my back."
"Don't look so concerned. It's not like she's going to hurt you."
"Right." Charles was not convinced. He thought that Elizabeth was very much capable of finding and hurting him should the need arise. Luckily for him, he was not planning on leaving Jane ever again.
Elizabeth stared at her screen. She had been reviewing the same paragraph for 45 minutes without making much progress. Sensing that it may be time for a break, she stood up, stretched and contemplated the wisdom of another cup of coffee. It would be her sixth cup of the day, but then, she needed all the energy she could summon. A long night of editing and rewriting was ahead of her, and it occurred to her that this was a particularly inconvenient day for a deadline. Her usual focus had been disrupted by Richard's accidental revelations earlier that morning. For about the thousandth time, she replayed his words in her head and found herself becoming increasingly agitated at the notion that Darcy may have dissuaded Charles from dating her sister. Jane. Who could have anything against Jane? Notwithstanding her present disagreement with her sister, Elizabeth was righteously indignant at the idea that anyone could examine Jane and find anything wanting. Of course Darcy could and would. He had the emotional intelligence of an ant. But she had not expected such cold heartedness from him. After fuming all day, she had texted Anne and Richard her apologies. She would not be joining them for dinner. Her professed excuse was a terrible headache, but the real reason was that she could not bear the idea of an entire evening spent sitting across the table from Darcy and his smug smile. Not tonight. So instead, she had returned to her room and pretended to work, while plotting all kinds of delicious revenge fantasies against her new arch-nemesis.
A knock on her door stirred her out of her reverie. "Yes?"
"Liz?"
"Will?" She frowned. He should have been at dinner. She opened the door and stared at him in what she hoped was a sufficiently menacing and uninviting fashion.
"Can I come in?"
"Uhhh... sure...?" She allowed him to enter. "Aren't you supposed to be at dinner?"
"Yeah." He walked in, went straight to the window and then, turned around to face her. He seemed distracted, agitated. "How are you feeling? Anne told me you had a headache."
"I'm fine." She walked over to her desk and sat down. "What are you doing here, Will? Can I help you with something?"
He looked at her for a long moment before saying, "Ummm... yes, I think you can."
Posted on: 2013-11-04
Darcy did not speak immediately, so Elizabeth said, "Well?"
He continued to stare at her in a slightly unhinged manner and when he began to speak, he lacked his usual calm and collected tone. "I've been struggling for months. I've tried denial. I've tried repression. But it won't work. I can't pretend anymore. I, ahh...- Liz, I'm falling for you."
Elizabeth's astonishment was beyond expression. She stared, colored, doubted and was silent.
This he considered sufficient encouragement, so he continued in a somewhat steadier voice. "I've felt this intense attraction for you from the very beginning. But I couldn't allow myself to act on it. We don't necessarily make sense together. We come from different backgrounds, and let's face it, you're not exactly an obvious choice for me. I mean, you're an outspoken reporter with plenty of strong convictions and a somewhat inappropriate family. There would be a lot of tabloid focus on us. And a lot of scrutiny from the broader media world. And I'm not sure my entire family would approve. All of these considerations have kept me from telling you how I feel, how I've always felt. When I left New York, I thought I'd put you behind me. But seeing you here...- you're every bit as mesmerizing as I remembered. And I'm totally, hopelessly captivated by you - your mind, your courage, your passion. So, here I am. Against my better judgment. I can't take it anymore. I needed to look you in the eye and tell you the truth. The rest...- I'm sure we'll figure out together." He paused, taking a deep breath. "So Liz, will you please go out with me?"
In spite of her deep rooted dislike, she was momentarily flattered until his subsequent declarations morphed her fleeting compassion into anger. When he was done speaking, he looked at her with an expectant smile, and she could easily see that he had no doubt of a favorable answer. That only exasperated her further, and she felt the heat rise in her cheeks as she spoke. "I think I'm supposed to be touched by your declarations and thank you for feeling so strongly about me. But I can't. I've never wanted your good opinion, Will. And I don't want it now. I'm sorry to cause pain to anyone, but it was certainly accidental. And given all the considerations that have kept you from acknowledging your feelings sooner, I'm sure you'll recover just fine in no time."
He was studying her intently, and his face registered his surprise at her words. The turbulence of his thoughts was visible in every feature. He struggled for composure as he spoke. "You're rejecting me?"
"I suppose there's a first time for everything."
He ignored the tone of her remark and said, "Could I ask why I'm being so summarily rejected?"
"I could ask why you chose to tell me you liked me against your will and better judgment. Did you really think that was the best way to make your case? But I have other reasons to dislike you, Will. Don't bother to pretend otherwise. Do you honestly believe I would go out with a guy who actively tried to ruin my sister's happiness? Can you deny that you told Charles to break up with Jane?"
"I don't wish to deny it. Charles was infatuated with your sister, and that's it. I've seen him go through it a million times before. I spared them both a lot of heartache by urging him to consider his actions. Trust me, she's better off without him."
"And who exactly died and made you God? Why was it necessary for you to interfere? But you know that's not all. Long before the Jane and Charles debacle, my dislike of you was cemented when I heard the truth about you from George Wickham. What do you have to say about that?"
"You take an eager interest in that guy's concerns." His tone was less tranquil, and the color was rising in his cheeks.
"Who can listen to his story and misfortunes and not take an interest in him?"
"His misfortunes! His misfortunes have been great, indeed." His voice dripped with disdain.
"And at your hands. You took away his career out of spite. You sentenced him to a life of odd jobs just because you were jealous of him. And yet, you treat the mere mention of his misfortunes with such contempt and ridicule."
"And this is your opinion of me," he said, pacing the room furiously. "Thank you for explaining it so fully. My faults, by this calculation, are quite substantial." He stopped pacing and turned to her. "But maybe you would have overlooked these offenses had your pride not been hurt by my honest confessions. Maybe you would have suppressed these bitter accusations had I concealed all my doubts and struggles. But I don't believe in deceit, Liz. Nor am I ashamed of anything I said. My feelings are natural. What did you want me to say? That I'm excited about the prospect of a girlfriend who can barely contain her disdain for the harsh realities of modern media? Or who brandishes her scars like some sort of trophy to prove her authenticity?"
"Stop." There was a finality in her voice. "You don't get to talk about my scars, Will. You have no idea what I lost in that war. I'd check my facts before hurling further accusations. And anyway, you're wrong to think that the way you expressed yourself tonight did anything but spare me the concern I might have otherwise felt in rejecting you. You couldn't have asked me out in any way that would have tempted me to say yes. I don't like you, Will. I never have and never will. I don't respect you. You are in a position to really change the media landscape, to change the world, and yet, you do nothing with all your resources and influence. You lack vision or courage or maybe both. Your arrogance, your conceit, your selfish disdain of the feeling of others and every subsequent corroborating fact formed the basis of a dislike so intense that I had not known you a month before I felt that you were the last man in the world I would ever consider dating."
"You've said quite enough, Liz. I understand your feelings perfectly. Sorry for taking your time tonight. I know you're very busy. Good luck with...- everything. Take care."
With those words and a small nod, he left her room. Shortly thereafter, Elizabeth heard him leave the house. She stood in silence for a minute before sitting on her bed and crying in exhaustion and confusion. Her thoughts vacillated between shock and surprise at his feelings, anger at his form of communicating those feelings and contrition regarding her own bitter words. His lack of denial of wrongdoing with regards to Jane and Wickham did not exactly surprise her, but she felt vaguely unsettled and uneasy, almost as though she had published a story without complete verification of all her facts. Her head pounding with vicious intensity, she settled back into her chair and composed herself enough to attempt to focus on her work. It was going to be a long night.
Elizabeth lay awake in her bed. The clock read 5:30, and she had not slept at all. Work had kept her occupied well into the night, and after that, sleep had eluded her. So she lay still in her bed with her eyes open, her thoughts tumultuous, her emotions unsettled. The waves of upheaval crashed into her slowly, deliberately. Her relationship with Darcy had changed irrevocably. His feelings for her would evaporate in the face of the violence of her hatred. But with all the words they had exchanged, she wondered if they could exist in polite society together as if nothing had happened or if she could avoid him without losing Anne and Richard in the process. The last thought distressed her the most, and she sat up in frustration. She changed into her running clothes and went downstairs quietly. She had come to love Sun Valley and hoped a bit of fresh air would clear her head. When she got to the porch, she paused, recalling that Darcy often sought her here. That recollection seemed so different in light of the previous night's revelations, and she found herself feeling sorry for him. There was no sign of him, however, so she sighed in relief. She was not prepared to face him, although to be fair, she was not certain she would ever be prepared to face him. Just as she was congratulating herself on her good fortune, she heard the screen door open behind her.
"I've been waiting for you."
That deep voice was unmistakable. Elizabeth turned around to face Darcy. He was wearing the same slacks and linen shirt he'd been wearing the night before. The dark circles around his eyes signaled he had not had much success with sleep either. She felt the pangs of guilt at having caused another person heartache. "I...- ahh, I didn't know anyone else was up."
"You've been running earlier. I didn't realize it was to avoid me."
She was startled by the raw pain in his voice. She looked down, unsure of what to say.
"Will you please read this letter?" he said as he held out an envelope.
"You wrote me a letter?" She frowned in surprise.
He nodded. "I...- always express myself better in writing. Please?"
She took the envelope. There was really nothing else to do. "Ok. Sure."
"Thanks, Liz." He gave her a small smile and then went back inside the house.
She stared at the envelope for a moment before walking to a quiet wooded area about a mile away. Satisfied that she would have enough privacy and unable to contain her curiosity any longer, she tore open the envelope and found a handwritten letter inside. Of course, even his handwriting was proper and dignified. She devoured the words impatiently.
Liz -Don't worry. I'm not going to repeat any of my feelings about you or try to change your mind about dating me. I understand and respect your wishes. In fact, I think it's best for both of us if you can forget everything that was said between us. I'm writing to you because you leveled two serious charges against me last night. One pertaining to your sister and the other to George Wickham. Although they are not equal offenses in severity, I understand you are concerned about the well-being of both your sister and friend. I hope that after reading this account of my actions, you will better understand my motivations and hopefully, acquit me of any purposeful cruelty.
First, with regards to Jane and Charles, all I can say is that I am quite certain that I am saving your sister from a more severe heartache than anything she is experiencing right now. Charles is a loving and caring guy and one of my closest friends. He is also, without doubt, somewhat of a serial monogamist. He dates pretty women, falls in "love" and then falls out of love, all usually within a matter of months. I don't say this to justify my actions. You can ask anyone who knows him, including his sister, for a full timeline of his various love affairs. He doesn't mean to hurt anyone. His heart is full of love and good intentions. I've just never met anyone who can maintain his attention for more than a fleeting moment.
And so, I saw him falling for your sister with some trepidation. I knew what would happen, and I didn't want to see the inevitable train wreck that would follow. Maybe I was also selfish in that I didn't want Charles' bad behavior to reflect poorly on me as far as you were concerned. I see now that such concerns were unwarranted as I was doing a great job of making a bad impression all on my own. Anyway, so right after the charity ball, Charles came to me and confessed that he had asked Jane to move in with him. To my surprise, she had said no. Charles was distraught and inconsolable. He wasn't sure if Jane loved him the way he loved her. I took that opportunity to point out his history and track record and counseled him to consider his actions carefully. I challenged him to prove to me - and himself - that this was not just another infatuation. I asked him to consider whether he was prepared for the kind of commitment that living together necessarily implied. He really had no good answers, and I've never seen him that confused in love before.
I never told Charles that he needed to break up with Jane, but I think it was obvious to both of us that he couldn't or shouldn't stay in a relationship that was doomed for eventual failure. When I left New York, I heard from Charles that he had asked Jane for a break and was going away to think about their future. The sadness and desperation I heard in his voice gave me pause and made me wonder if I had pushed him in the wrong direction. Usually, falling out of love is as effortless for Charles as falling in love. But something seemed different this time. After hearing what you had to say, I confess that maybe I was wrong. And maybe they would have figured things out on their own without my help (I think you would call it interference). But I did what I thought was best for a friend who came to me for advice. And I'm not sure I can or should apologize for that. I wanted to explain myself to you so you can (hopefully) see that I had no bad intentions. I am sorry if Jane was really hurt by Charles. She is really sweet and deserves better. Maybe they will find a way to make each other happy in the end. If their love is as real as you seem to think, I'm sure they will make it through these issues stronger than before.
Your second, more damning, charge was regarding my behavior towards George Wickham. I really can't even imagine what kind of lies he told you, but I want to set the record straight. George is the son of one of my father's key lieutenants, who worked at Pemberley almost his entire life. My father was very fond of George and hoped to provide George every opportunity to make something of himself. In fact, he helped finance George's expensive private education. I used to be good friends with George until high school. At Andover, George fell in with the wrong crowd. I steered clear of him, but didn't have the heart to tell our fathers the truth about him. In retrospect, my inability to expose George Wickham has been the bane of my existence.
Our fathers died young, and I took charge of Pemberley almost seven years ago. George worked at Pemberley Review as a photographer. He was never the most conscientious worker, but I gave him more opportunities than he deserved out of loyalty to his father and respect for my father's wishes. But about one year after I took over, an old family friend X came to me with troubling information. He is the head of a big defense contractor - I will withhold his name for a multitude of reasons, but if you remain unconvinced of my story, please let me know, and I will see what further information I can provide you. Anyway, X came to me to confess that he had carried on a relationship with a woman at DoD. He is not married and neither is she, so in theory, he was free to act as he wished, but there are strict ethical reasons why the relationship was irresponsible. Even though she was not directly responsible for approving any of his company's contracts, she was overseeing much of the vast civilian operations in Iraq. The pale of suspicion over his company would have been great had the truth come out. And needless to say, she would likely have lost her job. To his credit, he was more concerned about the latter than the former.
The reason he came to me was that he was being blackmailed with pictures and other evidence of their dalliance. In fact, he was being threatened with an expose on his company - some sort of story about his improper relationship with this woman and how his company was embezzling DoD funds in Iraq etc. There was enough truth in the alleged story that it would have been hard to refute completely. And by this time, there was enough widespread corruption in the contractor community in Iraq such that the public would have been unforgiving. X had reason to believe that someone at Pemberley was involved, but he couldn't be sure. I used the considerable resources at my disposal to track the evidence, and we traced it all back to an employee at Pemberley Review. Imagine my surprise when that person named George Wickham as his co-conspirator. It turns out that George was the mastermind - he engineered the hacking of X's phones as well as directed other surveillance that led to the blackmail photos. But he was too smart to allow the evidence to be traced back to him. I have to give that to George. He has always been very smart.
I confronted George with this information. He didn't really deny it, but was pretty confident we wouldn't be able to press charges against him as we had no way to prove he was involved other than the word of his accomplice. X didn't want to press any charges at all - despite my pleading. He didn't want the publicity. He didn't want to risk his girlfriend's reputation. And so, against my advice, X just paid George and his accomplice additional hush money in exchange for destruction of the blackmail evidence. I couldn't really do much else besides fire George and his friend and make sure neither of them ever worked in the business again. I know George was beyond angry that I had such power, but really, he belonged in federal prison, so I was doing him a favor by letting him go lightly. He had obviously misjudged X - he had assumed that X would never confess his relationship to anyone, least of all me. He accused me of suppressing a story because I was personally involved with X. He is delusional because the only truth in his so-called story was the relationship (and thankfully X ended it without needing my prompting). I rigorously checked all the other allegations, and they were categorically false. At any rate, at that point, I thought my dealings with George Wickham were over for good. I was incredibly wrong about that.
A year after all of this happened, George was thrust back into my life in the worst possible way. What I'm about to tell you is deeply personal and private, and I know you will treat this information with respect. My sister Georgiana (or Gia, as everyone calls her) is 10 years younger than me. She is a sweet, trusting girl and has depended on me since our parents passed away. I've done the best I can, but I failed her in a way that is unforgivable. The year was 2008 and as you recall, the world was falling apart, and I was distracted. Gia was 20, a sophomore at Yale. George found her in New Haven and befriended her. Gia had fond memories of him from her childhood and looked up to him as a brother. Needless to say, she was unaware of the circumstances of George's banishment from Pemberley. He has a way of reading people's emotions and vulnerabilities and exploiting them. He told Gia a sob story (maybe similar to what he told you) about me and our falling out and extracted a promise of silence from her. And so began their disastrous friendship.
Gia was living with a girl named Emma Younge, who turned out to be a despicable human being. Emma and George began dating, and he spent a lot of time in their apartment. Unbeknownst to Gia, Emma and George bugged her room and installed video cameras and proceeded to record everything that happened in her room. And I mean, everything. Gia was dating a sweet guy at the time. But some not-so-sweet things were happening in her bedroom. She was 20. You can imagine the rest. Once George got enough footage, he started blackmailing Gia. She was devastated, broken. She couldn't come to me. She was too embarrassed. She couldn't risk having the footage become public. Given our family's name and profile, she would have been tabloid fodder for months. She is too fragile for that. She would have rather died than gone through that experience. Public humiliation is not something a 20-year old shy girl takes lightly.
So Gia broke up with her boyfriend and began paying George his blackmail demands. She ran out of available cash quickly. Most of her inheritance is contained in a trust fund that was not accessible to her as she wasn't 21 then. But Gia is resourceful and tried to find a way to access additional cash without my knowledge. And I'm sad to say, she almost succeeded. Like I said, I was a failure. I was so busy and traveling so often that I missed the red flags. Thankfully, Richard was around. He is Gia's joint guardian and found out that she was trying to access a lot of money. He called me immediately, and I flew to New Haven as soon as I could. When I confronted Gia, she confessed it all immediately. You have sisters, so maybe you can understand my rage. I think only concern for Gia prevented me from killing George on the spot. I'm all she has left. I couldn't afford to go to prison. Although, I have to say, I did toy with the idea and sort of felt that I could get away with it undetected.
Once again, I confronted George, but my hands were tied. Exposing him to the authorities would have meant forcing Gia to testify, and she was already too broken for that. So, I paid off George and got him to destroy all his footage of Gia (at least, I hope. Otherwise, by God, this time I'll kill him). Gia moved out of her apartment and took a leave of absence. She did go back and finish her degree at Yale and is now at law school. I am sad to say that she has never fully recovered from that violation. A part of her can never trust another guy again, and she stays away from all intimate relationships. It is a delicate subject for an older brother. I have leaned on Anne and Richard a lot through all of this. And they can corroborate everything I'm telling you here, if you still don't believe me.
So... there you have it. The full, unvarnished truth about my dealings with Charles and George. I don't know if this acquits me in your eyes, but this is the best I have to offer. I may never earn your esteem, but I hope I have at least dulled the force of your hatred.
Lastly, about what I said about your scars. That was very wrong of me. I'm sorry. I was overwhelmed with anger and said something that I regretted instantly. It was bad enough already, and then I spoke with Anne and Richard. Please don't be mad at them. Believe me, they had no choice. They told me what happened to you in Iraq. I had no idea. That doesn't excuse what I said. But it makes it a thousand times worse. I really have no words to describe how terrible I feel about that. I didn't intend to make light of what you went through. In your worst day, you are a better, stronger, braver person than I ever will be. So all I can say again is sorry. I'm deeply disappointed in myself.
You are probably wondering why I'm writing you a letter rather than explaining all of this / apologizing to you in person. I am very bad at expressing myself as you've undoubtedly noticed. I've always been a bit better in writing. I was too angry and emotional to really defend myself when we spoke. I know I said a lot of things that upon reflection, in the cold light of day, make me ashamed. I have no further apologies to offer except to say that you will have the satisfaction of knowing I will be plagued by my words - and yours - for a very long time. Thanks for making me a better person, even though that was not your goal. That's the thing about you, though. You touch the world and make it better without even knowing it.
Take care, Liz. Stay passionate. The world could use more journalists like you.
Will
Elizabeth read the letter five times in silence. When she was done, she sat there looking at the wilderness around her, absorbing the remarkable words she had read. She could not believe the claims about Wickham at first, but could also not imagine that Darcy would fabricate such elaborate lies, especially regarding his sister. No, everything he claimed must be true, and it seemed as though he was certain that Anne and Richard would verify his version of events. And she really did not know how to feel about Jane and Charles for Darcy's perception of the situation was not so different from her own. And she was uncertain that she would have acted differently had Charles been her friend. A million thoughts rushed through her head, but above all, she knew that her life had changed forever. She recoiled under the weight of the horrific reality that she had utterly and completely misjudged William Darcy. That might have been forgivable for a layperson, but it was an impeachable offense for a journalist. Her entire world upended, she allowed the tears to flow down her cheeks. Till this moment, she never knew herself. And suddenly faced with an unforgiving mirror, she did not like what she saw.
Posted on: 2014-01-07
Elizabeth slowly walked toward the de Bourgh house, her feet following the strict instructions of her head despite strenuous objections from every other fiber of her being. There was no clear alternative, however, as her laptop inconveniently remained at the house. For a brief moment, Elizabeth considered just running and not stopping and never looking back. Despite some obvious logistical challenges, that idea had a certain appeal to it. She pictured a small town somewhere in Idaho or maybe Montana. A town full of unkept secrets and unlocked doors and intimate nights spent under the seductive cover of the brilliant, starry skies. A town where no wars had ever been fought and no wars ever would. A town where she could disappear into the kind of obscurity that accompanies an unremarkable life. But she was a fraud of the worst kind and did not deserve the solace of disappearance. And besides, her boisterous thoughts - impossible to silence - were certain to drag her into the quagmire of slow and inevitable madness. She already felt herself sinking, her lungs laboring as the air around her thickened with the ghosts of yesterday and today and forever more. There was no point in running. There was no escape. And she was not even certain she wished to escape. For once in her life, she would do the honorable thing and not evade the fate that had already been written in her stars. After all, how much indulgence was reasonable for one person to expect from the gods?
As she walked into the house, she heard a voice call out from the kitchen. "Liz? Is that you?"
Her heart stood still for a moment. The voice belonged to Richard, but she could not be certain if there were other voices waiting to admonish her, scorn her, confront her. She walked to the kitchen and looked in tentatively. Seeing Richard and Anne alone, she sighed in relief. "Hi."
Richard smiled brightly at her. "Well, it's about time. We were going to send a search party to look for you. Can I tempt you with some homemade pancakes?"
Elizabeth shook her head. "No, thanks. But you can definitely tempt me with some coffee."
"Sure. Take a seat." Richard whistled an unintelligible song as he retrieved a coffee mug.
"Why is he so cheerful?" Elizabeth asked as she sat down next to Anne.
"I guess because he gets to see his lady love soon," said Anne with a shrug, her gaze steadfastly fixed on her newspaper.
"That's too saccharine for so early in the morning." Elizabeth rolled her eyes.
Anne looked up from her newspaper. "I don't think he's about to take love advice from you."
Richard gave Anne a sharp look. "Liz, just ignore her and drink your coffee."
"What is this? Some sort of good cop, bad cop routine?" said Elizabeth.
"Is it working?" Anne raised an eyebrow.
Elizabeth sighed. "You want to be angry at me? Go ahead. You're not going to get any arguments from me."
Anne exchanged a quick glance with Richard. "A fine, if somewhat unexpected, sentiment."
"What did you expect?"
"A valiant and passionate defense of your case."
"I have no defense to offer."
Anne contemplated Elizabeth in silence for a moment. "I take it you read his letter."
Elizabeth looked up briefly before returning her gaze to her coffee mug. "I did."
"And?"
"You told him about Dylan."
"We had to. He needed to know. He was missing an essential piece of the puzzle without which it's nearly impossible to understand you."
"I didn't realize he was trying to understand me."
"He was. He just has an odd way of showing it."
"Why didn't you warn him?"
"About your...- disinclination toward him?"
"Very tactfully put, but yes."
"We would have, but we didn't know the depth of his inclination toward you."
"Really?"
Anne nodded. "You really think he confides in us? I'm still shocked that he sought us last night."
"It seems as though he was in need of a character witness or two."
"In a manner of speaking. You have any facts you'd like to check?"
"No."
"Seems like it's becoming a dangerous habit of yours."
"Anne...-" Richard began.
"No, she's right," said Elizabeth.
"I mean, of all the filthy liars to believe, you chose Wickham?" Anne could not keep the scorn from her voice. "Prison seems like too good an outcome for that sociopath."
"I don't disagree."
"How could you let that happen?"
"I don't have a clue."
"Didn't your gut tell you something was very wrong with that guy?"
Elizabeth was loath to admit it, however everything but the naked truth had been stripped away. "Yes."
"And you chose to believe him anyway?"
"Yes."
"Without as much as consulting me? Or Richard?"
"Yes."
"Ok, then. That clears everything up."
"I'm sorry my responses are not satisfactory. Once I'm done chasing down the answers, I'll be sure to send you a postcard with my findings."
"Postcard? You planning a tropical escape?"
"No. I'm planning a banishment."
Anne sighed. "It's a fine mess we have here."
"Yeah."
"How you doing?"
"Take a wild guess."
"Want to discuss it with your consiglieres?"
Elizabeth shook her head. "That would put you in an indelicate position. I understand you already have Will's confidence."
"We do. Doesn't mean we can't be here for you as well."
"I appreciate the offer. But I couldn't ask that of you."
"And what if we insist?"
"You would be unsuccessful. Anne, you can't solve this...- situation."
"I know. I was a fool to ever think I could."
"I see your tenacity has finally met its match."
Anne nodded. "On the one hand, I have a guy who thinks the best way to ask out a girl he loves is to insult her. On the other hand, I have a girl who rigorously fact checks every mundane detail of her life except her violent hatred of said guy. Intractable problems are my forte, but even I know when to surrender." She paused. "I'm not offering any solutions here, Liz. Just a willing ear to listen to your grievances."
"Wait a minute. Who said anything about love?" said Elizabeth, her voice steadier than her thoughts and her throat suddenly dry.
"Right. I...- Richard, don't you have anything to add?"
Richard seemed highly interested in the granite countertop. "So... pancakes anyone?"
"Men are so useless," Anne muttered.
Elizabeth cleared her throat. "I should, ummm...- go up to my room. I don't want to crowd anyone. And I'm on the first flight out in the morning. You'll hardly even know I'm here."
"He's gone," said Anne.
"Excuse me?"
"Darce. He's gone."
"What do you mean gone?"
"He's on his way back to New York. Or I think Asia, actually. So you can relax."
"Oh."
"Isn't this what you wanted?"
"I didn't have a grand plan, if that's what you mean."
"You could have fooled me."
"I see we've reached the tough love portion of the program."
Anne smiled. "You know my tactics too well."
Elizabeth stared at Anne for a moment. "I know I was wrong about Will. You both tried to tell me."
"Maybe the moral of the story is that everyone should always listen to me. Always."
"Only you would be self-serving in the middle of a crisis."
"Oh please, it's not a crisis. Everyone is allowed a mistake once in a while. Even you. Also, to be fair, you were somewhat right. It doesn't exactly sound like his conduct last night was beyond reproach."
Elizabeth flinched as the volley of insults and remonstrations flooded her senses. "That may be the case, but I am in no position to judge."
Anne snorted in mock laughter. "Well, that's a first."
"Let's just say his numerous apprehensions about my character, my personality and my family should ensure that any heartache he may be currently experiencing is short-lived."
Anne sighed and shook her head. "Where does the guy learn his social skills? It must be from his father's side."
"Obviously."
"So, what next?"
"I need to get back to work."
"Liz...-"
"Yes?"
"You can't avoid this subject forever."
"You will find I am remarkably adept at the art of avoidance."
"Oh, believe me, I know. But what happened here last night...- this uncharacteristic behavior or lapse of judgment or whatever you want to call it must stem from somewhere. You have to confront the underlying issues."
Elizabeth tilted her head and raised an eyebrow. "Are you billing me by the hour?"
"Elizabeth Bennet, please do be serious."
Elizabeth stood up, looked at Anne and then Richard and walked to the door. She stood in silence for a moment, then turned around. "What would you like me to say? That I have no credibility anymore? That there are no second acts in my line of work? That you're only as good as your last story? I'm well aware, Anne. I realize I may have lost all right to call myself a journalist. But if I am no longer a journalist, I'm nothing. And if it's all right with you, I am not quite prepared to face oblivion. Not yet."
"You're being too hard on yourself."
"That's a matter of opinion." She paused. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a deadline."
As Elizabeth walked out of the kitchen, Richard cleared his throat. "Well, that went well."
"Indeed."
"I told you not to say anything yet."
"Relax. That was just my opening gambit."
"You think this is some kind of game?"
"Not a game, Richard. Chess."
"Chess?"
"Three dimensional chess, to be exact."
Richard shook his head. "You really are something."
Anne smiled. "I will take that as a compliment. Now, how about those pancakes?"
The handsome pre-war building, happily situated on a charming tree-lined street, glistened in the afternoon sun and beckoned Elizabeth with the allure of an oasis amidst arid hopelessness. The journey back had seemed horribly interminable, stretching hour after hour with nothing to distract her but her thoughts. Ordinarily, she was quite content to be alone with her thoughts, but in the current state of affairs, they were just treasonous traps rife with landmines that threatened to obliterate her remaining shreds of dignity and reason. The poison followed her relentlessly, mercilessly, even penetrating the sanctity of her unconscious mind. She could still picture, with exceptional vividity and precision, the dream that had supplanted her nightly ritual of horror. She was standing in Sadriya market, watching Dylan disappear into the crowd. But before the light could blind her or the explosion could deafen her, Dylan turned around and started walking toward her slowly. He was not alone, however, for Anne and Richard and Jane and Darcy were right behind him, their steps increasingly urgent and uneven. When they reached her, they formed a circle around her, their eyes brimming with scorn. J'accuse. She stumbled backwards. No. What have you done to deserve this chance? No. Imposter. No. Dylan! He could not or would not make eye contact, and when he spoke, his voice was soft. It should have been you, Liz. Yes. She had woken up screaming yes, yes, a thousand times yes. Her breathing shallow and her pulse unsteady, she forced those recollections aside as she entered the building. It was time to right at least one wrong.
Despite the fact that she still possessed a key, Elizabeth rang the doorbell. When the door opened, she gaped in surprise. "Charles?"
Charles was obviously not expecting her. "Liz."
"Who is it, Charles?" Jane's voice asked from the living room. Charles did not respond immediately, and Jane walked to the door, halting the moment her eyes fell on Elizabeth. "Liz."
"Jane."
After a long and awkward moment of silence, Charles cleared his throat. "I should go." Neither sister objected, so he kissed Jane on the cheek, grabbed his shoes and hurried out of the apartment.
When he was gone, Elizabeth said, "Can I come in?"
"Do you really need to ask?"
Elizabeth shrugged as she walked in. "So he's back."
Jane closed the door. "Yeah."
"When did that happen?"
"A few days ago."
"I didn't know."
"We haven't really told anyone."
"Oh?"
"Not even Caroline."
"Really?"
"There were a lot of issues that needed to be addressed. A little seclusion seemed appropriate."
"I'm interrupting. I'm sorry, Jane. I should have called or something."
"No, it's ok. You're more important."
"To whom?"
"To me."
Elizabeth took a deep breath. "I've missed you."
Jane nodded. "And I you."
"We need to talk."
"I know." Jane paused. "Why don't you get settled? I'll make us some tea."
"Ok. Thanks." Elizabeth left her bags by the door and walked over to the couch. "So... Charles."
"Yeah," said Jane from the kitchen.
"Is he back for good?"
"I don't know. I guess."
"You don't sound so thrilled."
"I'm not really sure how I'm supposed to feel."
"What did he have to say for himself?"
Jane did not respond. The apartment was silent except for the singing of the tea kettle. She walked into the living room with two steaming cups of tea, and after handing Elizabeth her cup, she settled on the couch. "He panicked."
"Clearly."
"He wasn't sure how to distinguish between infatuation and the kind of love that demands commitment."
"I don't recall you demanding much of anything."
"Yes, well, apparently he didn't get the memo."
"So?"
"I don't know. He's being very open and honest with me about... well, about everything, really. And he wants another chance."
"What do you want?"
"I'm trying to give him another chance."
"But?"
"I'm not so sure I can ever trust him again." Jane paused. "I know that is an audacious statement coming from me."
Elizabeth bit her lip. "I didn't say anything."
"You didn't have to."
Elizabeth was silent for a moment. "So what are you going to do?"
"We're going to start over. And see where it takes us. It's really quite impossible for me to promise anything more at this point."
"You sure you want to go through this again, Jane?"
Jane nodded. "I tried to be indifferent. On a purely practical level, anything else is remarkably foolish. But I can't help it. When I saw him again, my heart jumped. I still love him." She paused. "It sounds reckless, doesn't it?"
"Well, you're in love. I think you're supposed to sound reckless."
Jane sighed. "Don't worry. I'm realistic about the probability of a happy ending in this instance."
Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. "I've never seen you quite so cautious, Jane."
"I am trying to emulate you, Liz." Jane smiled.
"I'm not sure that's so wise."
"Let me be the judge of that." Jane paused. "Anyway, enough about Charles. How was your conference?"
After a few moments of dead silence, Elizabeth said, "Ok. I sent you an email before I left."
Jane did not meet her gaze. "I know."
"You didn't write me back."
"I didn't know if you wanted to hear from me."
"Wasn't an email invitation enough?"
Jane looked up at Elizabeth's amused, twinkling eyes and smiled. "I suppose. I sort of had this nagging suspicion that Caroline had forced you to email me, so wasn't really sure if I should read much into it."
Elizabeth nodded. "Yes, it was Caroline. But you know me. I wouldn't have emailed you if I'd been dead set against it." She paused. "Someday, you will have to tell me how you got Caroline and Anne so firmly in your corner."
"Liz... they're in your corner, too."
"Oh I know. But from day one, they very much wanted me to forgive and forget. No righteous anger on my behalf. No indignant rants. Only half-hearted sympathy." Elizabeth could not keep the bitterness from her voice. "I know I've been difficult, Jane. I'm not that surprised that no one has any patience for my traumas anymore."
"It's not like that, Liz," said Jane. "I can't speak for Caroline or Anne, but I can't imagine their actions were driven by anything but love and concern for you."
"Yes, I know. Everyone is always doing what they think is best for me."
"Liz..."
Elizabeth sighed. "Sorry. I'm not trying to be snide. I just...- I'm so lost."
Jane reached out and squeezed Elizabeth's hand. "It's going to be ok. Talk to me."
Elizabeth gave her sister a small smile. "How much time do you have?"
Jane returned her smile. "For you, eternity."
"Eternity may not be enough." Elizabeth stared at the floor. "I've made a real mess of things, Jane."