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Posted on Monday, 19 November 2001
It worked. Fitz reached for Liz, and Frederick turned to Anne (To hell with the rules! he thought.). Brian, being used to smoothing over any situation, saw that Jane was without a partner, so he took her hand and danced with her.
"Perfect," murmured Liz, looking in the direction of Frederick and Anne.
"Mmm," agreed Fitz, not looking in any particular direction.
"Wasn't that clever!" whispered Anne.
"Clever?" asked the Captain.
"The switch partners thing. Now Liz and Fitz are dancing together" She smiled at the bandleader, who nodded discretely in return. "I'm going to remind you of this when staff evaluations come around again."
Captain Wentworth looked down at Anne with an affectionate frown, "Since when is meddling a part of the bandleader's job description?"
Jane smiled at Brian. "I don't believe we've met."
"I'm the Cruise Director, Brian."
"Brian, I'm Jane Gardiner. As Cruise Director, you could probably answer my question."
"Which is?"
"Does the bandleader often do this change partners thing?"
"No. But I think he saw the opportunity to get Anne and the Captain to dance together and went for it. Quote me and I'll deny it, but the crew all have bets on when those two will get together. Ordinarily, they wouldn't dance together, as Cruise Staff and Officers are supposed to mingle with passengers, not pair off amongst themselves. I hope the change of partners didn't cause a problem for you and your partner."
"Quite the contrary. I was looking for a way to leave Liz and Fitz alone. The switch partners thing worked perfectly. Someone should give the bandleader a raise."
Brian laughed. "As Cruise Director, I'm the one who does for his performance evaluation. Tell you what, if his interference makes my date in the pool the winner, I'll recommend a raise."
The music ended, and the couples left the floor. Jane, Liz, and Fitz sat down at their table. Brian, Anne, and the Captain walked off in separate directions to mingle with other passengers.
Liz yawned. "I'm sorry to be a party pooper, but I'm tired. And the scratches on my neck are starting to itch under the scarf. Oh, Fitz, I forgot to thank you for the scarves. They're lovely, but how did you know I'd need them?"
The pained look in his eyes was answer enough.
"Oh," she said softly. "Well, goodnight. No, Jane, I'm all right. You don't need to come with me. Stay and enjoy the show."
Fitz watched her leave the room. Jane smiled at the wistful look on his face.
"Fitz? If you want to follower her, go ahead. You don't have to keep me company. I'll be fine on my own."
"No, she needs her rest. I'm sorry, but I'm not really in the mood for the show. Would you like to get a little fresh air?"
"That would be lovely."
Anne Eliot finished her conversation with the couple from Chicago and turned around. She saw Fitz escorting Jane from the lounge. Liz was nowhere in sight. She sighed in frustration.
Across the room, the Captain made his excuses to the garrulous elderly ladies from Pennsylvania, with the intention of returning to the Bridge to check in with the Officer of the Watch. He saw the look on Anne's face and followed her gaze toward the door. What now? he wondered.
He made his way through the lounge, passing near Anne on his route to the exit. She caught his eye and he knew from her expression that he could either talk to her now quietly or hear her frustrations at length on the Bridge. He looked at the door, then looked back at Anne. She nodded and headed for a different exit.
In the hall outside the lounge, the Captain met several passengers who were eager to tell him how much they were enjoying the cruise. Normally, he loved to have these conversations, but at the moment, he just wanted to get Anne calmed down and escape to the Bridge. Excusing himself as graciously as possible, he walked to Anne's office. The moment he entered, the tirade began.
"What happened? One minute they were dancing together, and then the next thing I know, Fitz is wandering off with what's-her-name-"
"Jane Gardiner." Whew! She must be mad. She NEVER forgets a passenger's name!
"Right. Jane. So why is Fitz with Jane? And where is Liz?" She stamped her foot in frustration.
"I don't know." He paused, then continued, "Anne, I know you don't want to hear this, but humor me. Sit down."
With a huff, she sat in one of the chairs in front of her desk. The Captain sat in the other one. He took a deep breath and reached for her hand.
"Anne, over the years, I've met a lot of Cruise Director's staff members. It is your collective job to make sure the passengers are entertained and happy. Nobody does this better than you do. Time and again, I've seen you give special attention to bored kids, lonely old ladies, queasy first-time sailors, the lot.
"I also know that other members of the Cruise Director's staff tend to say, 'Let Anne handle it. She'll know what to do.' Don't shake your head like that. We both know that you get a lot of the difficult tasks. But sometimes you fall into the 'Julie McCoy' trap. You want the cruise to fix everyone's life and when the passengers disembark, you expect them to live happily ever after."
Anne stared sulkily at the floor. She knew that the Captain was right, but she didn't like hearing it. He let go of her hand and looked at her for a moment. She looked like a little girl who needed a big hug.
"Anne. Look at me." He reached forward and tilted her chin up until her face was level with his. "This is not a dressing-down from the boss. This is advice from someone who... advice from a friend. Let it go. You can't fix everything." He removed his hand from her chin and leaned back in his chair. "Let me hear you say it."
She hesitated.
"Come on, Anne. Say it. I...can't...fix...everything."
"OK. I can't fix everything."
"That's better."
Her expression brightened. "But I can invite them to sit at your table tomorrow night, and maybe I can invite someone to pair off with Jane."
"Did you hear anything I said?"
"I'm not trying to fix this. I'm just going to steer them in the right direction so that they can fix it themselves."
He stood up and looked down at her fondly. "I give up. I am going to the Bridge, where all we have to steer is the ship. I'll leave the fixing of everyone's life to you."
Everyone's life but mine, she thought as the door closed behind him.
Posted on Monday, 19 November 2001
Fitz opened the door to the Sundeck and held it for Jane. They walked to the center of the deck and looked up at the stars.
Fitz remembered standing there with Liz on the first formal night. He thought about how the breeze had played with the tendrils of hair along the nape of her neck and how stunning she had looked in that red dress. The sound of Jane's voice brought him back to the present.
"I had forgotten how nice it is up here at night. Much less windy than on Promenade Deck."
"I'm sorry, is it too chilly for you up here?"
Jane shook her head, "I'm fine."
"No you aren't. Here." He slipped off his jacket and draped it over Jane's shoulders. Better?"
"Yes, thanks." She sat down on a deck chair. "I feel terrible about all of this."
"About what?"
"Wickham, Liz, my cousin. I feel like it's all my fault."
"Nonsense, Jane. How could it be your fault?"
"Lydia met Wickham through me."
"How?" asked Fitz incredulously. He couldn't imagine how this lovely young woman could be acquainted with someone like George Wickham.
"My sister and I were visiting my Aunt and Uncle Phillips at their place in the Bahamas. We became friendly with one of the neighbors, who invited Charlotte and me to go to a party she had been invited to. Since Suzi knew the roads well, she drove. Unfortunately, she was a little weak on the concept of 'designated driver.' When Char and I were ready to go home, Suzi was drunk. I was about to ask the hosts for the name of a taxi service, when this nice-looking man offered me a ride.
"Suzi was still well into party mode, and didn't want to go home. Normally, I wouldn't accept a ride from a stranger, but the hosts seemed to like him. Plus, my sister would be with me. Safety in numbers, you know."
"I'm sure the hosts liked George. He has a way of being likable," said Fitz bitterly. He stared out at the dark sea, thinking of that afternoon's conversation with Mr. Gardiner. Likeable. Charles is "likable." George is "likable." Funny how hard it is to tell the sincere from the phony.
"Fitz? You still here?"
"Sorry, please go on."
"So Wickham drove us home. He even walked us to the door. And since my aunt and uncle were home, we asked him to come in for a cup of coffee. He was charming and polite to everyone. Lydia took one look at him and went into total flirt mode. Wickham seemed a bit embarrassed by her obvious attentions, but kindly refrained from giving her a complete brush-off."
Fitz frowned, "In short, the perfect gentleman."
"So it seemed. He said that he would be flying home in a few days and then traveling a lot for work. He asked for my number in New York and said he would call if he was going to be in the city for more than a day at a time.
"What nobody noticed was that Lydia slipped him her phone numbers, both at home and at the island house. Over the next few days, Lydia would go to the beach and then wander off. We didn't pay much attention. It's easy to walk farther than you intended and sit in the sand for a while before returning home."
"She was seeing George."
"Yes. And then one night, we were all supposed to go out for a special dinner before Charlotte and I flew home. Lydia claimed to have a headache and stayed behind."
"Claimed to have a headache?"
"It was a ruse to be home alone and invite George over. They had been meeting at his hotel, but he wanted to see her home, her room. I can only imagine the line he fed her, but it worked. At some point in the evening's 'festivities' she took a shower. We think that's when he went through her things and my aunt's, looking for valuables."
"The jewelry, of course. Anything else?"
"No, that was all that was missing. They don't have a lot of expensive things in the house, like sterling silver flatware or candlesticks. The house is pretty casual. The TV and stuff like that are worth money, but Wickham could hardly sneak those out in his pockets.
"My aunt discovered that her jewelry was missing the next morning when she went to put away the necklace she had worn to dinner. She immediately checked Lydia's room and found that her jewelry was gone, too."
"What about you and your sister?"
"We weren't traveling with much of anything valuable-beads, seashell necklaces, funky beachy stuff. The few good pieces we had with us we had worn to dinner.
"My aunt and uncle were frantic. Clearly, the house hadn't been broken into. Their first fear was that Lydia had given the jewelry to someone in trade for drugs. In the end, Lydia realized that denying everything wouldn't work. Confessing to sleeping with Wickham was better than being accused of using drugs."
"What did she say about the jewelry?"
"She didn't deny that he must have taken it. But she actually believed he would give it back at some point."
"Incredible."
"You haven't met my cousin. Anyway, my uncle contacted the authorities, but Wickham had already taken the first flight out. The only way to arrest him was to get him back to the Bahamas. And the rest you know."
"What did your cousin say about this plan to arrest George?"
"She doesn't know. She'd probably have tried to tag along and warn him. I suppose she'll have to testify at his trial. That will be a circus and a half. I pity the poor lawyer who has to get some sense out of Lydia."
"Is there a chance that she'll refuse to testify? They can't press the charges for rape if she doesn't testify."
"She may refuse to testify that he raped her."
"They're looking at statutory rape. Sex may have been consensual, but she was under age at the time, I believe."
"Yes, she was. Not that it's a concept she comprehends. Lydia has thought herself 'old enough' to do just about anything for years."
"I don't see how you can blame yourself, Jane. It sounds as if your cousin was a disaster in the making all along."
"I suppose so. But I contributed to this particular disaster by introducing George to her."
"By your reasoning, I'm guiltier than you are. George always gets away with things. He always has."
"It sounds as if you knew him before this case. I don't mean to pry, but I did get the impression when we met that there was something personal about your involvement."
"You're right. I've known George most of his life. He always had a knack for getting into trouble and talking his way out of it. My sister, Gina, always thought of George as a big brother, and trusted him completely. So when he tried to take advantage of her, she was shocked."
"Did he rape her?"
"No. Fortunately I came home at the right time. I heard her scream and got George away from her and threw him out of the house. She was roughed up a bit in the struggle, but not hurt physically. But she had nightmares for years. I think she still has them occasionally, although she doesn't tell me about them."
"Tonight, when Liz asked about the scarves, she seemed to know something."
"I told her about my sister. After George told Liz his sad story about his history with me, she wanted to hear my version. If Liz had any doubts before, yesterday must have convinced her I was telling the truth about him. As for the scarves, well, I remembered the marks on my sister's neck. She was wearing a necklace, which broke in her struggle with George. She hid the scratches with turtleneck sweaters or scarves. When I saw the scarves in the gift shop, I remembered."
"Your poor sister. I think it's worse what Wickham did to her. Lydia was a silly girl and a stranger. But your sister had thought of him as a friend. That's disgusting."
"Good word for him. Want to hear the most disgusting part? We found Gina's broken chain on the floor, but never found the locket. I got it back today. It was with some jewelry he had with him. Apparently, George kept souvenirs of his 'conquests.' It makes my skin crawl."
"Seeing the locket must have been a shock. I can understand why your mind wandered away before."
"No, I wasn't thinking about George then. Oddly enough, I was thinking about Charles."
"Charles?" asked Jane unsteadily.
"Yes. I said that George was 'likable,' remember?"
Jane nodded.
"Just this afternoon, your father remarked that Charles is 'likable.' Isn't it odd that two men, so fundamentally different, could both be so likable? George is devious and dishonest to the point of cruelty. Charles is honest and kind. In short, as nice as he seems.
"I know that I'm not instantly likable. I don't do well with strangers. It's one of the many reasons I like having Charles working with me. He can smooth over any social situation. I always resented George's ability to charm people within seconds of being introduced, yet I never resented Charles for that same ability."
"Maybe it's because you know them both. Really know them, know which one is sincere. And I don't think you're so hard to like. I liked you right away."
"Thank you, Jane, but I'm not sure you count." Fitz smiled at her puzzled expression. "I suspect that, like Charles, you like just about everyone."
"You mean, including George." She looked ashamed.
"Don't blame yourself for liking him. People always do, at least until he hurts them."
Jane smiled coyly, "OK, so I don't count. What about Liz? Does her opinion count?"
"Probably more than I am willing to admit. I wish I knew what her opinion of me is. We didn't get off to a good start, I guess you saw a bit of that at the meeting the day we sailed." Jane nodded and he continued, "The funny thing is we did get off to a good start. We met on deck briefly, but didn't introduce ourselves. Then I managed to alienate her at the meeting."
"And now?"
"I'm not sure. Things have blown hot and cold between us since we met. Sometimes we push each other's buttons, and sometimes we get along so well it's like we know what the other will say before he or she says it. I never know what to expect. How can I describe it?" He raked his fingers through his hair while he searched for an explanation.
"Did you ever break a thermometer when you were a kid? Play with the mercury that ran out? You know how it gets away from you? Well Liz can be like that, like quicksilver. Just when I think I can hold onto her, she slips through my fingers and I have to start all over again."
"I think I understand."
"I wish I did." He shook his head. "I feel off balance somehow. And I don't know how much of it is due to my attraction to Liz and how much of it is due to dealing with George and this case. I was hoping that we could sort it out now that we're done with George."
"I'm sorry I came aboard. I'll just be in the way."
"No, don't say that. If it's meant to be, it's meant to be."
"Well, let me see if I can help. I'll try to stay out of the way tomorrow and give you some time together." She stood up and handed him his jacket. "Liz is probably asleep by now. I think I'll turn in, too. Goodnight, Fitz."
"Goodnight Jane. Thanks for listening." He watched her walk inside, then leaned back in the deck chair. She really is that sweet. I didn't think they made them like that any more. He stared at the stars, wondering what to do next.
Liz lay in her bed, in that strange state halfway between dreaming and being awake. She thought of how it had felt to dance with Fitz again, and found herself reliving their first dance so many days ago. She propped herself up on one elbow and reached for the dresser drawer. She pulled out the folder and turned on the reading lamp.
She gazed at the couple in the photograph. It seems like a hundred years ago, not just days, she thought. Liz could almost feel the pressure of his hand on her back as they danced. She smiled as she remembered the way they had flirted during dinner. And later, they had stood on deck in the dark, talking about the case.
The case. How much of what had happened between them was part of the case and how much of it was real? Would they see each other once they got back to New York and weren't working together?
Liz sighed and put the photograph away, wondering what it would be like to spend more time with him. She turned out the light, but still couldn't fall asleep. Something was nagging at the back of her mind. Romance and work, work and romance. What was it he had said? It gets messy. He said he had told Charles that.
Suddenly Liz was wide awake. She knew why Charles had gone home. And she didn't like it. She sat up in bed, fists clenched, as the anger welled up in her. Fitz! How could you!
Liz heard Jane put the key in the lock, and quickly lay on her side, facing the wall. She was determined that Jane wouldn't see her tears.
Just before midnight, Fitz left the Computer Center and went to his cabin. He picked up the envelope that had been slipped under the door. The invitation to the Captain's table made him smile. After tonight's quiet dinner, perhaps a larger livelier group would cheer up Liz.
Fitz dropped the invitation on the dresser and picked up the card with ship-to-shore calling instructions and dialed the number in New York. He was surprised to get an answering machine at that hour, but left a brief message. "It's me. Sorry to call so late, but I wanted to make sure you check your email tomorrow morning."
Posted on Wednesday, 5 December 2001
Jane awoke first. She made sure that the curtain was closed, and dressed quietly. She was about to open the door when she saw the envelopes on the floor. She opened the one addressed to her and read the invitation to join the Captain's table that night. She put her invitation in her shorts pocket and propped Liz's up on the dresser. Tiptoeing to the door, she left Liz in the darkened cabin to sleep late.
Jane put on her sunglasses and stepped out onto Promenade Deck. The early morning joggers and walkers were taking advantage of the clear sky and calm sea. She walked toward the bow and saw Fitz running toward her. He stopped when he came to her, and looked around.
"She's still asleep."
"Oh. Are you planning to walk for long?" he panted.
"Maybe 15 or 20 minutes."
"I'm on my last lap. By the time you have finished your walk, I should be showered and presentable. Shall we meet for breakfast? Is the buffet all right with you?"
"That would be lovely."
Jane watched him turn the corner at the stern, then continued on her own path toward the bow.
Fitz slowed his pace as be began to cool down and end his run. He had hoped that running a few miles would clear his head and help him think of a way to approach Liz. She hadn't said much the previous night. He didn't know how to read her signals. She had sent him to dance with Anne, that couldn't be a good sign.
Yet Liz had seemed happy when the change of partners put her in his arms. Or maybe she was just happy because it put Anne and Fred together. Yes, that was probably it. Liz didn't want to dance with him. Maybe she was annoyed because he had kissed her?
Then he thought of the way she had clung to him on the island. I should have stayed. The police would have handled it. Charles was in Nassau to see to things there. I could have stayed with her. I was supposed to go on the boat, it was part of the job. But Liz needed me and I let her down. Damn and blast! Work and romance, romance and work. Never a good combination.
Liz had only been pretending to be asleep when Jane got up. As soon as Jane tiptoed out of the cabin, Liz sat up and stretched. She walked to the window and pushed the curtain open. The sun was shining on a smooth sea. No hope of feigning seasickness. She would have to come out and deal with it all eventually. But not yet.
She grabbed the remote and turned on the TV. The ship's satellite dish was picking up CNN, but Liz was not in the mood for news. She surfed through the movie channels, looking for something upbeat. She stopped at "An Ideal Husband." Settling into the pillows, she watched for a while, wondering what her ideal husband would be like. Would she like the saintly character played by Jeremy Northam? Or would she prefer someone like Rupert Everett's twinkle-in-the-eye rogue? Or maybe someone else...
When she woke again, the movie had ended and the screen was blank, waiting for the top of the hour, when the next showing would begin. Liz forced herself to get up. She contemplated breakfast, but wasn't hungry. She opened the envelope on the dresser and read the invitation. Well, maybe I'll be hungry by then.
Finally, she decided that a run on deck would help her gather her thoughts.
Jane and Fitz settled at a table by a window. A waiter poured coffee and took their empty trays. Fitz looked at the pile of food before him and laughed.
"It must be the sea air. I swear to you, I don't eat like this every morning! And look at you-all that fruit and just a little bit of scrambled egg and a single slice of bacon. You're making me feel guilty."
"But you ran this morning. I just walked. Besides, this is no sacrifice. I happen to love fresh fruit."
They ate in silence for a while, then Fitz brought up the subject of the final port on the itinerary.
"What are you going to do tomorrow in Newport News?"
"I'm going to rent a car and drive up to Williamsburg."
"Doesn't the ship offer a tour?"
"Yes, they do, but I'm not interested in a typical introductory tour of Williamsburg. I went to William and Mary, and I worked for CW, so I'm a bit beyond the intro stage."
"CW?"
"Colonial Williamsburg, sorry about the abbreviation. Have you ever been there?"
"Yes, although it has been several years."
Jane stared off into the distance. "I love it. The best thing is to walk around in the Historic Area before the buildings are open and the tourists are all around. You see people heading to work in their costumes, you smell the morning fires being started in the kitchens. I try to imagine that I'm back in the Eighteenth Century." She looked at Fitz. "Does that sound crazy? I can't really tell you how it makes me feel. It's so very special to me."
"I understand. Unfortunately, I don't think you'll be able to get there early tomorrow."
"No, but that's all right. It's special no matter when you go. I was planning to ask Liz to come along. You're welcome, too, of course."
"Thank you. Let's see what happens today, shall we?"
Jane nodded, "Right. I think I'll go check on Sleeping Beauty. I expect we'll be up on the Sundeck later this morning. Once she's settled in a deck chair, I'll find you and let you know. Where will you be?"
"I think I'll be in the Computer Center for a while this morning. Try there."
"See you there."
Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid. With every step, Liz repeated the word. She rounded the corner at the stern and changed her refrain.
Love, work, love, work, love, work. Why can't they go together? Why couldn't he trust Charles to do his job and still spend time with Jane? Who does he think he is to run his friend's life?
"Dumb, dumb, dumb!" she said aloud as she passed a woman who was settling into a deck chair. The woman stared at her curiously. Liz kept running.
Dumb, dumb, dumb! How dumb can I get? How can I fall for a guy who would give so little thought to his friend's happiness? How can I fall for a guy who'd hurt Jane like that? Just because he is tall and handsome and strong and-
She stopped running and went inside to return to her cabin. She remembered how comfortable it had felt to dance with him again. She squared her shoulders. No, you don't, Fitz Darcy. I saw how quiet Jane was last night. Don't you know that was your fault?
Back in her cabin, Liz removed the scarf and examined her neck in the mirror. The bruises were Technicolor now, but they would fade soon enough. She looked at the scarf she held in her hand. "You were so kind to me. Why couldn't you be kind to Jane and Charles?"
She threw the scarf on the bed and headed for the shower. When she emerged, Jane had just returned from breakfast.
"Oh, good, you're awake. What are you going to do this morning?"
"I don't know. I just had a run. Now I think I'll take my book and sit on deck and read."
"What about breakfast?"
"I'm not hungry."
After seeing Liz settled in a deck chair, Jane left to find Fitz. She was about to enter the Computer Center when she saw Anne.
"Good morning. Thank you so much for the invitation to the Captain's table tonight. I'm looking forward to it. I hope you invited Fitz, too."
"Yes, I did," replied Anne. Then, a bit pointedly, she added, "And Liz." So don't get ideas, Ms Gardiner!
"Yes, I saw the invitation for Liz. Is there any way to arrange the seating in advance?"
Anne eyed her warily. "What did you have in mind?"
"Liz and Fitz and I ate together last night, and, well, three's a crowd, you know?"
"Yes." Anne could not believe the nerve of this woman, trying to cut Liz out like that. Only her professionalism was keeping her from scratching Jane's eyes out.
"At the larger table, it will be less awkward for the three of us, but, well, if you could fix it so that the three of us don't sit together, that would be wonderful." Not noticing the tightness of Anne's jaw, Jane continued, "You see, neither Liz nor Fitz would agree to it if I offered to leave them alone. But if you can finesse it so that they sit together tonight, that would make me feel a lot better."
Anne released the breath she hadn't realized she had been holding. Ashamed at having misjudged the situation, she quickly answered, "I've already been trying to think of something. If it wouldn't be too presumptuous, might I invite a single gentleman to be your table partner tonight? Perhaps I can get the Captain to chat with Liz and Fitz at the end of the reception and delay them a bit. Then you and I can get everyone into place so that Liz and Fitz end up together."
"That would be wonderful. Thank you so much!"
Anne beamed, "No, thank you, Jane! This will be perfect!" She practically skipped to the Bridge to give the Captain his "orders" for the evening.
Jane found Fitz and told him where Liz was sitting. She took over his computer terminal and opened the computer's game software. She sighed. Solitaire. How appropriate.
Liz was stretched out on a deck chair, immersed in her book. Her concentration was broken when a shadow fell across the pages.
"How are you feeling today?" asked Fitz.
"I'm all right," shrugged Liz. Fitz sat on the empty chair next to hers and looked at her, trying to judge her mood.
"Is there something else?" she asked in a dismissive tone.
"What's wrong?"
As if you couldn't guess! "Nothing."
"Something is wrong. Tell me."
"It's nothing."
"Whatever it is, it isn't nothing. And it matters to me. You matter to me. Please tell me."
"It matters to you. It's all about you. Your opinion is the one that counts. You make all the decisions for everyone. You pretend to take care of everyone, but you're only making sure things come out the way you want them to. How could you?"
Completely baffled by this tirade, Fitz stared at Liz for a moment. "How could I what?"
"Oh, please, like you don't know. How could you do that to a friend? Do you have any idea what it feels like to have someone walk out on you?" No, of course you don't, Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Handsome-Perfect-Man.
"Liz, I'm sorry. I had to-"
"Hah! Had to, that's a good one! You just had to go and ruin it."
"Liz, I'm sorry I didn't stay on the island with you, but-"
Once again she cut him off in mid sentence. "Don't. Do not apologize. We both know you aren't sorry. You needed to be in Nassau, of course you did. You had to get there to pull all the strings. What gets me is that I was starting to-" she stopped, then started again, "I thought you were someone special. I should have trusted my first impression. You really are the arrogant jerk I thought you were." She slammed her book shut and stomped to her cabin.
Fitz sat in the sunlight. He reached into the pocket of his shorts and pulled out the box he had been carrying for days. Turning it over and over in his hands, he tried to piece together the conversation. What did I ruin? What strings did I pull? He had no idea how long he had been sitting there when Jane finally arrived.
"Where's Liz?"
He slipped the box into his pocket and shrugged.
"How did it go?"
"Not well. It appears that I ruined everything and she hates me."
"What did you ruin?"
"I have no idea," he replied dejectedly.
"Maybe I should talk to her."
"No, don't risk making her angry at you, too. I'll go down to your cabin and see if she'll talk to me. If she's determined to be mad at the world, I'll give her some time to calm down."
Jane reached over and squeezed his hand. "I'm sorry," she said softly.
"So am I." Then Liz's words came back to him, We both know you aren't sorry. He sighed, "I just wish I knew what I did that upset her."
Fitz knocked gently on the cabin door. "Liz, please talk to me."
"Go away."
"Liz, please. Whatever I did, I'm sorry."
"Gah! That is such a cop-out. Why do guys pull that crap? 'Whatever I did, I'm sorry.' That is so stupid. How can an apology be sincere when you don't even know what it is you're apologizing for? Admit it, you don't think you did anything wrong!"
"Well, no I don't but you obviously think I did, so I thought I could-"
"You can't. So just go away. And don't stand out there talking because I am going to take a shower and I won't be able to hear you."
Fitz heard her slam the bathroom door. Uncertain if she really was in the bathroom, he hesitated. Then he decided to give her some time to cool off.
Meanwhile, Liz stood in the bathroom, wondering if Fitz could hear the shower running. After a few minutes, curiosity got the better of her and she tiptoed to the cabin door and looked through the peephole.
Fitz was gone. Liz was surprised to discover that she was a bit disappointed that he hadn't been more persistent. Disgusted with herself, she turned off the water and flopped down on her bed to read.
Some time later, the rustle of paper got her attention. She looked at the floor and saw a note. She returned her attention to her book.
A few minutes later, she looked at the note on the floor. She shook her head and kept reading.
Another few minutes went by and Liz realized that she couldn't remember a single thing that she had read since the note appeared. She got up and picked up the note. She recognized Fitz's writing. She threw the note in the wastebasket and went back to the beginning of the chapter, trying to find the place where her attention had wandered.
Nothing was sinking in. She stared at the wastebasket. The letter was in there, driving her crazy. She got up and retrieved the letter. She tore it in half and threw it back into the wastebasket. She sat on the bed and saw the half of the note that hadn't made it into the wastebasket.
Angrily, she walked across the cabin and snatched up the paper from the floor. She was about to crumple the paper when her eyes fell on the signature. She stood there looking at his name. "Oh, hell!" she muttered, digging the other half of the note out of the wastebasket. Holding the pieces together, she read the note.
Dear Liz,I regret my earlier "generic" apology for "whatever I did." I know it sounded stupid, but I didn't know what else to say. I am sorry you are upset, even sorrier that I am the reason you are upset.
I want to make it up to you, but I can't do that until you tell me what's wrong. Please talk to me, Liz.
The cocktail party is at 6:30. Please meet me for a drink before then so that we can straighten things out. How about 6:00 in the Chart Room? If not, just tell me when and where and I'll be there.
Fitz
Posted on Wednesday, 5 December 2001
"Liz, are you about ready?" Jane walked out of the bathroom and frowned when she saw Liz still in her Pride bathrobe. "The cocktail party is in 15 minutes. You need to hurry."
"I'm not going."
"Of course you are."
"I don't want to," she replied sulkily.
"Too bad," said Jane as she opened the door to Liz's closet. She pulled out a pale green slipdress with spaghetti straps. "What's left to wear? This one? The is the one the new scarf goes with."
Jane draped the dress across the foot of Liz's bed, then walked to her own closet. She pulled out a cornflower blue dress and slipped it over her head.
"Liz? Help me with the button at the neck."
Liz got up and trudged over to Jane. After the dress was buttoned, Jane turned around and looked at Liz. She pushed aside the collar of the robe.
"Hmm, I think we can deal with this. Put on the dress and-"
"I said I'm not going to the party."
"I know you aren't, but I am and you need me to help you with the scarf. I have a great idea of how to cover the bruises."
"Fine," huffed Liz.
Liz put on the dress and stood in front of Jane. "OK, the dress is on."
"You don't want to get makeup on the scarf, so do your face." Liz glared at Jane, but sat down in front of the mirror and complied.
"Good, now your hair has to be down in the back, so let's pull the front back with a clip. Perfect. I'll just pin up the rest temporarily. OK. Now for the scarf." Jane pulled out a small sewing kit. She draped the scarf across the front of Liz's neck, and ran several long stitches back and forth behind the back of Liz's neck. A few more stitches secured the scarf to the straps of the dress.
Jane pulled the pins out of Liz's hair and smoothed the curls that tumbled down Liz's back and covered the threads. She smiled at Liz in the mirror.
"Stand up and let's see how it works."
Reluctantly, Liz stood and looked over her shoulder into the mirror. The ends of the scarf hung gracefully from her shoulders, just as Jane had intended. The look was glamorous. Tears welled up in Liz's eyes as Jane hugged her.
"Come on, then. You look so lovely, let's show you off at the party. What do you say?"
"I had no idea you could be so manipulative, Jane."
"I shall choose to ignore that remark. Earrings, Liz. Shoes. Let's go!"
As they left the cabin, Liz glanced at the clock on the dresser. It was just 6:30. She stifled a small pang of guilt and followed Jane out into the hall.
Fitz finished his glass of champagne and looked at his watch. 6:10, that's fashionably late. She probably wants to make me wait a bit. He ordered another drink.
Fitz smiled at the waiter who refilled his champagne glass. Champagne. That was wishful thinking. What do I have to celebrate? He looked at his watch again. It was 6:14. She isn't coming.
Eduardo, the Chart Room bartender, smiled sympathetically at the tall passenger. The guy looked like an expensive Scotch, not a champagne. Eduardo watched as the passenger checked his watch for the umpteenth time. Maybe the lady likes champagne. I wonder if she's going to show?
Fitz had already turned down two women who had asked if the empty seat at his table was taken when a third appeared. She was a stunning blonde with a salon-perfect tan. For a moment he was tempted to invite her to sit down, but he knew that jealousy wouldn't be a good route to try with Liz. Anyhow, Liz wasn't coming, so it wouldn't matter.
"No, the seat isn't taken. In fact, the table is all yours. I have to go. Please excuse me." He smiled at the woman, walked to the bar, signed his tab, and left.
The reception line for the past passengers' cocktail party was moving along at a good pace. Although Liz was a first-timer on the Pride, Anne had insisted she attend the party. Jane maneuvered Liz ahead of her.
As Liz was greeting the Captain, Anne whispered to Jane, "Where's Fitz?" Jane gave a little shrug and moved on to talk briefly with the Captain.
Jane and Liz accepted flutes of champagne as they entered the Derbyshire Room. Jane looked around for Fitz, but couldn't see him. Liz walked toward the bar, so Jane followed her.
"Hi, Colonel! Jane, this is the Colonel. He makes the best daiquiris in the world. He pours good champagne, too." She held out her empty flute and he filled it. He noticed that Jane's flute was still nearly full. He smiled and greeted Jane. Together, they watched Liz take a large swallow of champagne. Jane decided to take control of the situation. With a wry smile at the bartender, she steered Liz away from the bar.
"Here, Liz, why don't we sit at this table?" A passing waiter offered some hors d'oeuvres. Jane took two, Liz declined and drank more of her champagne. Jane was beginning to sense a disaster in the offing when the cruise director stepped to the microphone.
"Good evening Ladies and Gentleman. Have you enjoyed your day at sea?" A round of applause answered his question.
"Good! We have been very lucky with the weather on this cruise, and our luck is going to hold. I am told that the weather in Virginia tomorrow will be lovely, and the spring gardens are in full bloom. We will arrive on schedule, so our lovely tours will depart on time. And now, I would like to introduce our host for this evening's cocktail party, Captain Wentworth."
Amidst a round of applause, the Captain strode forward and took the microphone. He looked at the crowd and was about to speak when he saw Anne walking to the back of the room. She had been edgy all evening. Still looking for Fitz, he thought. Remembering that he was facing a room full of passengers, he recovered quickly.
"Good evening. It is good to see so many of you who have come back to sail with Austen once again. This is a special party, because we think of our repeat passengers as members of our family." The applause that followed bought him a moment to chart Anne's progress through the lounge. She had found Fitz. Good. That will calm her down a bit.
When the applause died down, he continued. "As we think of you as family, I had hoped to have a special treat for you. I want you all to join me in a toast. So while the waiters recharge your glasses, let me say that I have enjoyed having the opportunity to chat with many of you during the cruise, and I have been entertained by the many suggestions you have made for the name of our new ship. Tonight, I am pleased to tell you that I have been given permission to announce the name of our new ship." He paused for effect, and looked around the room to see if waiters had finished pouring champagne.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, please raise your glasses and drink to our new ship, the Austen Pemberley."
"The Austen Pemberley!" resounded through the room, followed by applause.
When the room became quiet again, the Captain continued. "No, I don't know who will be her captain." There was a ripple of laughter. "But whichever Austen ship I find myself on, I hope to see many of you again. Thank you for sailing with us. Enjoy your evening!" More applause followed, and then the band began to play as conversation resumed around the room.
Liz snagged yet another flute of champagne from a passing waiter. Jane frowned, but said nothing. Over Liz's shoulder, she could see Fitz and Anne approaching. As she reached the table, Anne smiled and greeted the two women. Fitz wore a blank expression as he stood beside Anne. Jane and Anne exchanged brief looks of dismay, and Anne decided to try to start a conversation.
"Well, wasn't that exciting? To be here for the big announcement! You know, Captain Wentworth was rather casual about not knowing who will be the Master of the Pemberley, but I know he would just love to get that assignment. He adores the Pride, of course, but there is something special about being a ship's very first Captain."
Eager to help the conversation along, Jane asked, "What other names were under consideration?"
"Oh, quite a few. Let's see, there was Donwell, Northanger, the Prince Regent, I forget the rest. Ah, here is Captain Wentworth. Perhaps he remembers some others."
"Hello. Ladies, you all look lovely this evening. Ms Bennet, I don't believe I've had the pleasure of dancing with you. Shall we?"
Liz rose a bit unsteadily and allowed Captain Wentworth to lead her to the dance floor. Anne desperately needed to speak to Jane, but not with Fitz present. She frowned at the dancing couple, feigning jealousy.
"Fitz, give them a minute, then cut in, would you?"
"Anne, I don't think-"
"Please? As a favor to me?"
Fitz hesitated, wondering if Liz would tell him to go to hell, right there in the middle of the dance floor. Oh, well, nothing ventured...
As soon as Fitz walked away, Anne and Jane made a beeline for the door.
Fitz tapped the Captain's shoulder, "May I?
Captain Wentworth smiled and handed Liz to Fitz. The change was made so smoothly that she found herself in Fitz's arms before she knew what had happened. She relaxed and started to lean in toward him, then remembered that she was angry with him.
"I don't want to talk to you."
"Fine, just dance."
"I don't want to dance with you, either."
He tightened his hold on her ever so slightly and whispered, "Don't embarrass the Captain. It wouldn't be nice to make people think he handed you over to someone you hate." He held his breath, waiting for her response to this remark. He was a bit surprised that she said nothing.
someone you hate...That's right Fitz, I hate you. Do I? Of course I do. Well, maybe I do. If only your arms weren't so strong. If only you weren't a perfect dancer. If only, um, wait, that isn't what was I thinking. The champagne that she had hoped would give her the false courage to tell him off was not helping at all. She cleared her thoughts and pushed away from him.
"We're done here."
"Yes, so it would seem. The music has stopped. It's time for dinner. Shall we?" Fitz held out his arm. Liz turned to stalk away, but her rapid movement made the room spin a bit. Smoothly, Fitz caught up to her, took her arm, and led her from the now empty dance floor.
Jane, Anne, and the Captain walked toward the dining room. Anne smiled up at the Captain, "Fred, asking Liz to dance was inspired. Jane and I were wondering how to get away without making Liz suspicious."
"She'll be suspicious," Jane warned. " I had to be pretty creative to maneuver her into coming to the cocktail party. And now she's had a few more glasses of champagne than she needed. She's angry at Fitz over something, but I don't know what it is."
"He seems to be handling it smoothly."
"We'll see. But I have this image of Bette Davis saying, 'Fasten your seatbelts. It's going to be a bumpy evening.'"
"Here we are," said Anne as they reached the table. "And here is Mr. Brandon, right on time. Jane, this is Christopher Brandon. Chris, this is Jane Gardiner. Jane is a personal stylist from New York. Chris comes from England and is a champion equestrian. Oh, and here are Mr. and Mrs. Bryan Douglas, who are celebrating their 30th wedding anniversary this week."
Jane and her partner were seated to one side of the Captain, then Mr. and Mrs. Douglas and then Anne. The remaining two seats were empty for the moment, and the six occupants of the table chatted idly.
With his hand at the small of her back, Fitz guided Liz to the table. She stopped short when she saw that the two available seats were together. She shot Jane a venomous glance, then sat in the chair Fitz pulled out for her. Anne crossed her fingers under the table, hoping that the presence of strangers would bring out Liz's good manners.
Waiters handed out menus, reminded everyone that the passengers should stay at the table until 9:30 PM, when the waiters would parade through the room with flaming baked Alaska.
While everyone else discussed the various choices on the menu, Liz remained silent. Fitz asked one of the waiters about the sauce on the chicken. From behind her menu and so quietly that only Fitz could hear, she said, "I hear snake tastes like chicken."
After everyone had ordered dinner, Anne tried to start a conversation. Searching for a benign topic, she asked the Douglas's about their anniversary.
"Oh, we had a lovely day in Nassau. Bryan found one of those perfume stores and tracked down the perfume he gave me on our first Christmas together." She smiled at her husband. "Wind Song. It's a fragrance that has been around for ages. It's made by Prince, um..."
"Machiavelli," said Liz, looking daggers at Fitz.
"Not quite, dear," replied the woman, "But it's something like that."
The wine the Captain ordered arrived, and after it was tasted and poured, he raised his glass and toasted the Anniversary couple.
"The Mr. and Mrs. Douglas. Congratulations on thirty years of marriage. May you have many more!" Glasses were clinked all around, well, almost all around. Liz pointedly avoided clinking Fitz's glass.
Chris Brandon saw Jane give Liz a pointed look. As the waiters set the appetizers on the table, he took advantage of the moment to whisper to Jane.
"What's going on? I feel like a fight will break out at any moment."
"It might," whispered Jane. "Be prepared to duck." His horrified expression made Jane laugh. Liz started to look up, and Jane hid her smile behind her water glass.
Several people at the table, including Liz and Fitz, had ordered the mushroom turnover for an appetizer. Hoping to help the situation, Chris Brandon offered an opinion on what he thought would be a neutral topic.
"This is excellent. I do love mushrooms. And the seasoning of the sauce is perfect."
"Yes, it's very good," agreed Fitz.
"Well, you would know about mushrooms," Liz hissed at Fitz. "They're kept in the dark and fed-"
"So, Liz," interrupted the Captain. "Jane's father told me you two ladies went shopping yesterday. Is that lovely scarf part of your plunder?"
"Yes, Jane convinced me to buy it."
Jane smiled, "I knew it would go with that dress. And I thought it would be a good addition to her collection of scarves." Jane saw tears spring to Liz's eyes at the allusion to Fitz's gift. Although she felt sorry for her friend, Jane was pleased that her remark stopping the sniping, at least for a while.
The main course passed uneventfully. Liz had nothing more to say, letting the conversation swirl around her. She had several glasses of wine to wash down her filet mignon, and Jane marveled at her consumption. Jane could only hope that Liz would be a quiet drunk.
As they were almost finished with dinner, one of the ship's photographers approached the table to take a group picture. He rearranged everyone to one side of the table and took a few shots. Then he proceeded to take a picture of each couple. He smiled at the Douglas's.
"That's right, put your arm around her. Say 'Happy Anniversary!' Lovely. Now you two." He turned to Liz and Fitz. "Lean in together. Oh, come on, closer now." Liz sat stiff as a ramrod, and Fitz turned to look at her just as the picture was snapped. Jane and Chris Brandon declined a photo saying that they weren't a couple.
Liz was about to make a smart remark about couples, but was startled into silence when the lights in the dining room were turned off. Music began to play over the dining room's speaker system. Then, from the kitchen, a parade of waiters carrying flaming baked Alaskas filed through the room. Flashes went off all over the room as passengers took pictures of the smiling waiters.
When the parade of waiters was over and the lights had been turned back on, Fitz turned to Captain Wentworth.
"Fred, I've always wanted to ask you about this. Isn't it a safety hazard? The first day, we always hear the warnings about the danger of fire at sea. Then, on the last formal night, you let the waiters try to set us aflame."
The Captain laughed and answered, "Fitz, they use those cans of gelled alcohol. It burns at a very low temperature. I've even seen some waiters dip their fingers into the can and let the alcohol burn out of the gel right there in their hands. We used to use sparklers, but someone complained about the sparks falling into the baked Alaska, so we couldn't serve the ones that were paraded. That was wasteful, so now we use the other stuff."
As he finished, the waiters set plates of the sweet dessert in front of everyone.
Mrs. Douglas was impressed. "I love to bake, but I've never had the nerve to try this. It must be difficult."
"The secret is in the freezing," explained Anne. You have to get the ice cream very cold so that it doesn't melt while the whole thing is in the oven to bake the meringue."
"That's right," added Liz. "It's only warm on the outside. Inside it's as cold and hard as ice."
Fitz reached into his lap and grabbed his napkin. It took every ounce of willpower he had not to throw it on the table and run from the room. Instead, he pushed his chair back slowly and gently placed the napkin next to his plate.
"I'm afraid I'm too full for dessert. I hate to break up the party, but I did want to see the movie in the theater. If you'll excuse me." He had no idea what the movie was, if there even was one, but it sounded like a reasonable excuse-and it was the only one he could come up with on short notice. He wished the Douglas's a happy anniversary, said goodnight to everyone else and left the room.
Fitz did not go to the theater. Instead he went to the Computer Center and logged onto the Internet. After he finished a few emails, he entered the url for the site he wanted. Tapping his fingers on the desk, he waited for the page to come up.
Posted on Wednesday, 12 December 2001
Juggling a mug of coffee and a pastry in one hand, Jane opened the cabin door with her other hand.
"You awake?"
"Mmmfflll."
"Liz?"
A hand emerged from under the covers. It pushed the sheet down far enough to expose an eye. A muffled voice said, "Jane?"
"Yes, it's me. We're docked. Are you ready to get up?"
The sheet crept down a bit lower. "I dunno," Liz yawned.
"How do you feel?"
Liz sat up cautiously. "I don't know yet. Ask me around noon."
"I brought you some coffee." Jane held out the steaming mug. She was astonished to see tears stream down Liz's face. "What's wrong?"
"Fitz brought me coffee."
"When? This morning?"
"No, (sniff) in Bermuda. And I was mean to him."
"In Bermuda?"
"No, last night. (sniff) Bermuda was really (sniff) nice."
"Liz, Honey, you're not making sense."
"I know." She swallowed some coffee and watched as Jane took out her cell phone.
"I'm going up on deck to get some air and call the rental place. They should be open about now. Get dressed and I'll be back to collect you."
Fitz sat in a deck chair. He was grateful that the Sundeck was deserted at this hour. Everyone was at breakfast or getting ready to board one of the many tour buses lined up near the pier. Lost in his thoughts, he didn't hear Jane approach.
"Good morning."
"Hmm?" He looked up at her.
"How are you?" She frowned at the circles under his eyes. "Did you get any sleep?"
"A little."
"Are you sure you won't come with us?"
"I know you mean well, Jane, but no. You tried, but it didn't work. She hates me."
"I don't think so. She's feeling sorry this morning."
"Sorry she drank so much wine. Sorry she was rude at dinner. Sorry she disappointed you by misbehaving. Not sorry about hating me."
"Fitz-"
"No." He shook his head and stood up. Leaning down, he kissed her lightly on the cheek. "Enjoy your day in Williamsburg."
Jane watched him walk away. She made her phone call and returned to the cabin to collect Liz.
They had driven most of the way in silence. Jane was waiting for the right moment to bring up the uncomfortable subject of Fitz Darcy. Maybe if Liz had a relaxing day, she'd return to the ship in a better frame of mind and be ready to apologize to Fitz.
Jane took the Williamsburg exit from I-64. "We're almost there!"
"Jane, you're going the wrong way. It says the Colonial Parkway is that way."
"No, we're going right into town. This is called Francis Street. Look over there. That's the Capitol. And there's the Williamsburg Inn, down that long driveway. You know, you can stay in some of the colonial houses along here, too."
Jane parked the car and hopped out. "Don't forget your camera!"
Liz peered at Jane over her sunglasses. "You don't have to shout, Jane. I can hear you."
Jane laughed, grabbed Liz's hand and dragged her over to the market stalls.
"First thing we do is get you a cookie." Jane bought ginger cookies and cups of cider. As they snacked and walked down the main street, Duke of Gloucester Street, Jane named houses that they passed. She spouted historical details and soon could see Liz falling under the spell of Virginia's colonial capital.
After they bought tickets and browsed through the merchandise at one of the colonial shops, Jane suggested a tour of the gardens at the Governor's Palace. There they wandered past beds of tulips and daffodils bordered by perfectly manicured boxwoods. And then they came to the maze.
"Mazes were quite popular in formal gardens of the Eighteenth Century. See, the arrow shows you which way to start." Jane watched Liz bound into the maze. With a wicked grin, she took a different turn.
"Ha, Jane, I beat you to the middle," called Liz over the tops of the hedges. She turned, and Jane, who had been waiting on the bench in the center of the maze, snapped her picture.
Liz jumped, "Hey, how did you do that?"
"I'll never tell," laughed Jane. "But you can probably figure it out." She showed Liz the "Exit" arrow. One turn and they were at the gate.
"You sneak! You went in the exit!"
"Oh, Liz, you don't know how many people I've suckered this way!"
After the tour of the gardens, they walked past the Windmill and then back to the Duke of Gloucester Street. They visited the apothecary, who inquired as to their ailments. Jane elbowed Liz to get her attention.
"Might you have something to help with the fox?" asked Jane. The guide laughed and explained to the other visitors that "the fox" was an Eighteenth Century euphemism for a hangover. Liz made a face at Jane.
From there, they went to the Wigmaker and Barber, where they saw how hair was sewn into a wig, learned about wig blocks (the source of the term "blockhead"), and declined an offer to have a tooth pulled.
Walking out to the street, Liz laughed. "Jane, you are the best tour guide. So tell me, Ms Guide to Williamsburg, where do we have lunch?"
"This is a tough call. Normally, I'd suggest one of the taverns. The food is excellent, and it's a great part of the experience. But I have such a craving for something truly decadent. So follow me!"
Liz followed Jane to the modern shopping area near the College of William and Mary. Jane walked up to the hostess at a restaurant and asked about a table outside. Soon they were seated at a table in front of the restaurant. Jane waved away the menus. Liz raised an eyebrow.
"Trust me, Liz." To the waitress, she said, "Two salads and two iced teas."
The waitress grinned, "And I can guess what you want for dessert." Jane nodded and the waitress left.
"What about the dessert."
"No, you have to wait. It's beyond description."
Their salads arrived and Jane finally found the nerve to bring up a delicate subject.
"Liz, I saw Fitz this morning. He looked like hell. I doubt he slept much last night. What did he do that made you so angry."
"Remember how Charles just disappeared from Nassau."
"Yes."
"Fitz sent him home because he didn't approve."
"Approve of what?"
"Charles seeing you while he was on a case for your father. Fitz has a thing about mixing romance and work."
"Fitz said it had to do with some other case."
"Well, he would say that, of course. But I find it a bit too convenient that the minute Fitz arrives and sees you two together, Charles has to leave. Fitz is smart. I saw how he manipulated George."
"You two did that together, Liz."
"Yeah, well, I know that he likes to be in control of the situation. He's the boss, he sent Charles home. Come on, Jane. If it really was a case, Charles would have explained. Fitz told him to scoot and he scooted."
"I don't think Charles would do that. He didn't explain because he had to catch a flight in a hurry."
"Well, he better call you when you get back to New York!"
"He may not have to."
"What do you mean?"
Jane leaned back and smiled. "Who says I can't call him? Ah, here comes dessert."
The waitress placed the plate between them. Sitting in a pool of chocolate sauce was a multi-layered cake. Layers of chocolate mousse and hazelnut mousse separated layers of brownie and cocoa meringue. A layer of chocolate ganache topped by chocolate mousse covered the top.
"Death by Chocolate!"* Announced the waitress, who placed a fork in front of each of the smiling women.
"Wow!" breathed Liz. "Now I see why you just ordered salads for lunch. This would be lunch in itself."
"I know, but the salad is important. It's the healthy part that balances all these calories."
After a very slow stroll through some of the stores, Liz and Jane returned to the car. They rode in silence for a while, and then Liz finally spoke.
"You think I was too rough on Fitz, don't you?"
"Considering that you never told him about your suspicions, yes I think you were unfair. You're a lawyer, Liz. What about the accused's right to know what he is alleged to have done?"
"I know, but-"
"No buts. Talk to him tonight. I will have dinner by myself, and you two will have dinner together. Better still, talk to him before dinner, and then have dinner together. OK?"
"Yes, Jane. Oh, there's the exit for Newport News. We'll be back in plenty of time."
They returned the car and walked along the pier toward the ship. Jane was instructing Liz on where to stand so that she could get a picture of Liz in front of the bow when a voice behind her said, "Perhaps I could take a picture of the two of you together?"
* author's note: Many restaurants have versions of "Death by Chocolate," but the Trellis in Williamsburg has the best version I've ever tasted-at about 1300 calories per serving!
Posted on Wednesday, 12 December 2001
"Charles?" Jane couldn't believe it. "What are you doing here?"
He grinned, "Offering my services as photographer. Go stand by Liz. Go on!"
Jane scampered over to Liz, who was standing open-mouthed in shock. When she reached Liz, Jane squealed softly, "He came back!" The two threw their arms around each other and turned to face Charles, who did not have to say "smile."
After snapping the picture, Charles walked up to the two women. He held his hand out, as if to say "stop," so they stood where they were. He took another picture, and then handed Jane her camera.
"Oh," sighed Jane. "We're sailing soon. I wish I'd known you were coming down here, Charles. I wouldn't have driven up to Williamsburg."
Charles checked his watch. "Hey, you're right. The ship leaves in about an hour. You girls need to get on board. I'll walk you over."
The three strolled toward the ship. Liz kept trying to walk ahead and give them some privacy, but Charles seemed determined to keep her in the conversation. When they reached the gangway, Liz went ahead and Jane paused to say goodbye. But Charles kept walking. He looked back to see a very confused Jane.
"Well, are you coming? Don't tell me you lost your security pass! They won't let you in on mine, you know." With this, Charles held out his bar-coded boarding pass to be swiped and then walked onto the ship. He turned and grinned at Jane, who bolted up the gangway and waved her pass at the security officer.
"Excuse me, miss," said the smiling officer. "Could you stand still for a moment? I need to read your pass." The computer beeped and Jane ran up to Charles and threw her arms around him.
Liz looked at them, still amazed at what had happened. "How..." she started.
Realizing that they were blocking the hallway, Charles laughed and replied, "Long story, which I will tell you over afternoon tea. Drop off your stuff and I'll meet you there, assuming I don't get lost on the way."
Because many of the tour buses were only just pulling up to the pier, afternoon tea in the Neptune Room was quiet. Liz thought back to the first day of the cruise, when she and Fitz had taken tea in this room. She was about to ask Charles where Fitz was when Jane started a different line of conversation.
"What happened, Charles? All Fitz said was that you had to go back to New York for a case."
"Didn't you get my note? I left it with the hotel clerk at the front desk when I checked out. I'm sure I did. It wasn't in my pocket or briefcase when I got back to New York. How odd. Well, that's appropriate. The whole thing was a comedy of errors." He paused in his tale while the waiters served them cucumber and salmon tea sandwiches.
"Mmm, delicious. Now, where do I start? Jane, you remember that we had dinner that night in Nassau, and Fitz didn't come with us?" Jane nodded. "When I went back to talk to him, a call for me was forwarded to his room. The operator was trying to reach me with a long-distance call from New York. It was someone from the District Attorney's office, telling me that I would be needed to testify the next day."
"Why such short notice?" asked Liz. "Usually the DA's office schedules witnesses on more notice than that."
Charles nodded, "Yes, that's generally so. But they decided to change their approach rather last-minute and needed me at the beginning of their part, rather than at the end."
"Why did you call it a comedy of errors?" asked Jane.
"The errors began when I got that call. I made arrangements to take the first flight out, which is why I wasn't there for breakfast in Nassau. I got to New York; the flight was late, of course. They always are when you're in a hurry. Then getting a cab was difficult. I went straight to the courthouse, raced to the courtroom and nobody was there!
"Of course, my first thought was that I had written down the wrong courtroom, so I found a clerk and asked about the case. All he could tell me was that I did have the right room, but the case seemed to be over. So then I had to haul-um, drag myself over to the DA's office. Very casually, they told me, 'Oh, we settled on a plea this morning. I tried your cell, but couldn't get through so I left a message at your office.' All that rush for NOTHING. And I could have been lying in the sun with you guys. But no, I had run around like a lunatic."
They all laughed at his comical exasperation. During the break in the conversation, Charles waved a waiter over to pour more tea. The sweets tray appeared, and they made their choices.
Liz picked up the thread of the conversation. "So, then, Charles, you were done with the case so you flew here?"
He nodded, "Fitz and I have been emailing back and forth, and when I told him about the screwed-up case, he said that I deserved to enjoy some part of the cruise, even if it wasn't as much as we had originally intended. So here I am."
"When was this?" asked Liz.
"The night you sailed from Nassau. It was his idea not to say anything. He thought it would make a nice surprise for Jane."
Jane voiced the question that Liz had been afraid to ask, "And where is Fitz?"
Liz's stomach lurched as she heard the answer she had been dreading.
"New York. He said he had made a huge mistake on a case and had to get home ASAP. I tried to convince him to stay, I mean it's only one more day. But he was determined. He seemed pretty grim. It isn't like him to show his emotions. He's a very controlled kind of guy, but I know he was upset. He can be very unforgiving about mistakes."
"Oh," was all that Liz could say. And I made a colossal one. I accused him of separating Charles and Jane after he had already found a way to get them together again.
"Yes, especially his own mistakes. He's very hard on himself, sets high expectations. He wouldn't ask an employee to something he wouldn't do himself. Would never scold an employee for something that wasn't the employee's fault."
"Sounds like the perfect employer," commented Jane.
"Yes, and my best friend. That's why I'm concerned. I haven't seen him in a funk like this since, uh ..."
"His sister?" asked Jane. Charles nodded. "I know. He told me the other night. Liz, I assume he told you, too?"
Liz nodded, and Charles whistled softly, "Wow. He doesn't open up easily, and he never tells anyone about that."
"Excuse me," said Liz as she quickly left the room.
"I'm sorry," said a confused Charles. "Did I say something to upset her?"
"It isn't you," replied Jane. "It's her. She and Fitz had a fight yesterday. No, that's not quite right. She picked a fight with Fitz and he had no idea what it was about. But I found out today. And she just found out that she was wrong. It's so stupid. "
"What is?"
"This whole mess. Comedy of errors is an understatement. Liz thinks Fitz sent you home to get you away from me because he doesn't approve of mixing work and romance." Suddenly embarrassed, she added, "Apparently, Fitz thought you were developing an interest in me, but since you were working for my father ..."
Charles reached over and took her hand. "Ah, well, Fitz was right about my interest in you. And, yes, he was concerned about it. He worried that we might be falling under the spell of sea breezes and palm trees and the excitement of being 'on a case' together. He just cautioned me to take things slowly, to wait until we were home and see if we liked each other in our real settings, in our real lives. But he would never have ordered me home. How could she think such a thing?"
"I don't know. I gather that they didn't get off to a great start."
"Oh, God, she did hear him."
"What?"
"That first day, I had hoped she hadn't heard, but obviously she had. Fitz questioned the choice of Liz for the job. He wasn't sure she'd be George's type. She must have thought he was questioning her competence. Add to that the fact that Fitz was a bit nervous at the start of this case, given the situation with this sister. When he's nervous, he's standoffish."
"Which is why she thought him arrogant," added Jane. "On top of the bad start, she is more rattled by George's attack than she'll admit. Throw in her misunderstanding of why you left Nassau, and you're looking at a powder keg."
"What do we do now?"
"Not much to do. You already said everything she didn't want to hear, and it was everything she needed to hear. I'll talk to her before dinner and we'll take it from there. I better go." She squeezed his hand. "I'm glad you came back."
"Me, too. See you at dinner. Dinner for three or dinner for two?"
"That's up to Liz, OK?"
"Whatever you think best, Jane."
After her abrupt departure from afternoon tea, Liz wandered around the ship trying to sort out her feelings. He must hate me. And he should hate me. How stupid I was. What's one of the first things you learn about being a lawyer-never ask a question in court to which you don't already know the answer. Don't assume. Don't accuse without evidence. Get your facts right. So what did I do? Jump to conclusions, assume facts not in evidence.
Liz walked out on deck to see the ship sail. Everyone around her seemed happy, which only made her feel worse. Packing to go home at the end of a trip always made Liz sad. Since she was already feeling pretty low, she figured that packing would be an appropriate activity for the rest of the afternoon.
On her way to the cabin, Liz walked through the photographer's gallery. She looked for the table picture, thinking it would be nice to have a picture that included Anne and the Captain. She found the picture quickly. Everyone in it was smiling, some more than others. Noticing that several copies had been printed, Liz took one and put the rest back in the rack. Then she saw the picture that had been taken of just her and Fitz. She picked it up, intending to drop it in the box of unwanted pictures, but at the last minute she decided to buy it, too.
Jane was not looking forward to this conversation. She knew that Liz was confused, and not likely to be in a good mood. She slowly opened the cabin door and discovered that Liz's closet and dresser drawers had exploded all over the room. Liz, with her back to the door, was cramming clothes into a suitcase.
"Hey, Liz."
With the back of her hand, Liz furtively wiped away a few tears. She continued to pack, but acknowledged Jane's greeting.
"Hi. Thought I'd get going on my packing. I always hate this part of a vacation."
Grateful for a neutral topic, Jane said, "I know. I won't have much to pack, so I can do it quickly. By the way, you did remember to put aside something to wear off the ship, didn't you? Cruise directors love to tell stories about passengers packing everything and having to leave the ship in their pjs and bare feet."
"In the closet." Liz pointed over her shoulder.
"Good. Can I help?"
"No, I'm managing fine."
"Would you like me to leave?"
"No, it's OK."
Jane found an available corner of her bed and sat down. She saw the folders on the dresser and picked them up.
"Oh, isn't it nice when everyone in a group picture comes out looking good! The Captain has his hand on Anne's shoulder. I wonder if she even knew she reached up to his hand like that. They look like the happily married couple at the table, even more than the Douglas's do. Thirty years ..." Jane trailed off as she thought of Charles and wondered if they could ever reach such a benchmark.
Returning to reality, Jane picked up the other folder and stifled a gasp. Hoping Liz wouldn't notice she had seen the picture, Jane set it down quietly. She wasn't sure what to do next, when Liz spoke.
"I blew it, Jane. I can't believe I was so stupid. He must hate me."
"I don't think he hates you, Liz. I think he's hurt, but he doesn't hate you."
"He has every right to hate me. I was so mean, and he didn't deserve it. But at least he got Charles back here, so something good has happened today. I want you two to have fun tonight. I'll have room service and stay here."
"You're welcome to have dinner with us, Liz. We don't need to be by ourselves."
"I know, but I don't want to be a dark cloud hanging over you. I'm better off here by myself."
"You're sure?" Liz nodded and Jane stood up. Threading her way through the mess, Jane found her way to the bathroom. "All right, then, I'll get ready for dinner."
Jane walked into the Colonel's Corner, where she was to meet Charles for a drink before dinner. He stood up as she approached the table.
"Good evening. You look lovely, Jane. Can I get you a drink?"
A waiter appeared as if by magic, and Jane ordered a daiquiri.
"Liz says the Colonel makes the best daiquiris she's ever had."
"Speaking of Liz ..."
"No, she isn't joining us. She's in the cabin, packing and moping. She thinks he hates her."
"That's interesting. I suspect that Fitz thinks she hates him. Any suggestions?"
"No. They're grownups. They should deal with this for themselves. If they don't come to their senses in a while, we can work on a plot. But at the moment, I'd say they're both too edgy to know how to behave together."
Charles nodded as the waiter set down their drinks. "The best thing we can do is be available as a line of communication. If they won't talk to each other, we can at least tell them about each other. Of course, it will mean that we'll have to spend some time together to organize all of this." They clinked glasses.
"I suppose I can manage to do that."
"Then, of course, if we do have to hatch some sort of plot, we may need several meetings to work it out."
"Goodness!" replied Jane, "How ever will I survive?"
After Jane left the cabin, Liz turned her attention to organizing the paper she had collected during the cruise. She had saved the daily programs and the fax newspapers. She had even saved some stationary and a few wrappers from the pillow chocolates, thinking she'd make a collage out of things from the cruise.
As she sorted papers into piles and put them in date order, she uncovered the folders of pictures from the ship's photographers. One by one, she opened them, remembering when each was taken. She looked at the picture taken on the first formal night, when she had been dancing with Fitz. How long ago that seemed!
Then she opened the last picture, the one of the two of them at dinner the previous night. She had smiled only slightly and looked to one side of the camera. She hadn't realized that, at the last minute, Fitz had looked at her. Tears ran down her face as she stared at his picture. If she had seen that look, would she have continued to be so mean? How could he look at me like that after all I had said? How could he love-
Liz stopped short at the word. The look on Fitz's face was so loving, yet with a hint of pain. Pain that she had caused. Pain that she made worse with that last crack. She had driven him away from the table and away from her.
She looked at the picture and touched his face. "I'm so sorry, Fitz," she whispered.
Jane and Charles were finishing their dessert when Anne stopped by the table. Jane introduced Anne and Charles.
"I'm pleased to meet you, Charles, although I'm sorry that we had to trade Fitz to get you here. Fred told me that Fitz called him last night to make arrangements to disembark in Virginia. I gather he had made up his mind and booked his ticket on line last night. He told Fred he wanted off the ship, at any cost. Said he would have swum home if we had been close enough to land."
Charles shook his head in amazement. "Fitz never loses control. She must really get to him."
"I just hope they sort it out. They seemed so right together." She sighed, "Oh well, I can't fix everything."
"What's that?" asked Jane.
"Fred says I worry too much and if something is beyond my control, I have to tell myself that I can't fix everything. I'm afraid I have to leave fixing Fitz and Liz to you two. So don't let me down. Good night."
Liz heard the knock on her door. "Yes?"
"It's your steward, Ms Bennet."
Liz picked up her room service tray and carried it to the door. She opened the door and held out the tray.
"Oh, thank you, Ms Bennet. I have a package that was left for you." The steward took the tray with one hand and held out a large envelope with the other.
Tactfully ignoring Liz's red-rimmed eyes, the steward said, Good night Ms Bennet. If you need anything, please call."
Liz sat down on the bed and looked at the envelope. It was Fitz's writing. She was afraid to open the letter, imagining the scathing letter she deserved to find. But the envelope had something more than a letter in it, and, in the end, curiosity won out. She opened the envelope.
No letter. Just a small box from a store in Hamilton, Bermuda. She peered inside the envelope. Nothing, just the box. She opened the box and gasped.
Inside the box lay a shiny gold pendant of a Bermuda longtail. Under the necklace, there was a folded piece of paper. Holding her breath, Liz unfolded the paper and read the message.
Dear Liz,I had hoped to find an appropriate time to give this to you, but that didn't happen. Please keep this in memory of a place that you loved and a day that was beautiful. For me, it was one of the best days of my life.
When I saw this in Hamilton, it made me think of how much you liked the story of the longtails. They fly a long way to find their mates. I would travel 100 times farther if it would bring me to you.
Always,
Fitz
She read the letter three times before she noticed that it was dated that morning. How could he write something like this after all that I did? She put on the necklace. Looking in the mirror, she touched the bird. "What do I do now?" she asked it.
Suddenly, Liz was seized by an irrational impulse. She bolted out of her room and up to the Promenade deck. She ran toward the spot where they had first met. If this were a movie, he'd be here. There'd be wonderful mushy music, and I'd round the corner and he'd be there waiting for me.
But when she rounded the corner nobody was there. He was in New York, and she was standing on deck in the wind, crying.