Jump to new as of October 31, 2002
Well, this is it. Either independent living for Elizabeth Bennet or another month living off Jane, I thought to myself as I walked into the Upper Manhattan office. I approached the desk, glancing a little warily at the Lambton Publishing logo behind it. I was greeted by the all too perky call of the receptionist.
"Good morning! May I help you?" The girl asked.
"Erm, yes, I'm here about the job."
"Oh, yes. Name please?"
"Elizabeth Bennet." I replied, repeating it to myself under my breath like a mantra.
"Please take a seat, Mr. Darcy will see you shortly."
"Thank you." I said as I sat down.
What a day this would be. I tried to settle the butterflies in my stomach. This was nowhere near like working in a bookstore. This was the publisher. This was where English majors worked. And I was an English major.
Oh why had I picked English of all things? Why not molecular biology, or journalism, or chemistry? Why English?
"Miss, Mr. Darcy will see you now." The receptionist said, pointing at a door to my right.
I knocked on the door to be answered by a curt 'come in.' I opened the door and stepped into the room, closing the door behind me. The man seated behind the desk hardly looked up. I stood there a few moments until he finally noticed.
"Oh, hello, I'm Fitzwilliam Darcy." He said, getting to his feet stiffly. Not even a smile. I stuck out a hand to meet his.
"Elizabeth Bennet." I said. I almost couldn't speak. He was stunning. Dark hair with a slight curl to it, and those eyes! Put me in mind of Mordred without the crazed incest thing. Pale blue-green ice.
"Please, have a seat." He said, with more huff than is usually polite.
"I'm very interested in the job you have open." I said genially.
"Oh, which one is that?" He asked, cocking an eyebrow almost menacingly. Oh, god, and he knew he was gorgeous too. Well, he won't get me.
"The editing position." I said, placing my resume on his desk. He picked it up and ruffled through the pages.
"Clerical jobs at bookstores, editor of high school paper, editor-in-chief of college paper...what makes you think you are capable of this job?" He asked, tossing the packet of paper down indignantly. I detected a bit of a snarl around the edges of his mouth. I felt the color rising in my cheeks.
"I'm a good editor, sir. I was editor in chief for 3 years of the university paper. I have published several works in the past few years, all edited on my own."
"You have no experience."
"Sometimes intuition and talent are better than experience."
"Still, I would prefer you had more experience. Come back in a couple of years, and maybe."
"Please sir," I gritted my teeth, "I am very interested in this job."
"I would prefer more experience, Miss."
"And how am I supposed to get more experience if no one will hire me?" I asked, my tone laced with arsenic and ice. His eyes flickered a moment. The message button flashed on his desk.
"Yes Lucy?" He said a bit roughly.
"Caroline Bingley is dropping by later for lunch sir. She didn't take any arguments. 12:30 at Horisters." Came the cheery voice. Damned if I could be that cheery and put up with this every day. He visibly shuddered before answering. He turned back to his paper work. After a few moments, he looked back up at me.
"Oh, good day, Miss Bennet." He said rather dismissively.
"Good day, sir," I said as I got to my feet with all the cold dignity I could muster and turned. As I closed the door, I could here my resume smack the bottom of his wastebasket.
Well, I'll just have to do what I always do I suppose: crash with Jane. The poor darling.
"Lizzy, its perfectly all right, I've got plenty of room and I'd be lonely without you anyway. There are other jobs, you know."
"I know, but I feel so bad..."
"Lizzy, don't. You're my sister, and my best friend. I would never let you move out anyways."
"I just don't know what to do." I said exasperatedly.
"Keep applying for that job. Let them know you really want it. Try to get an interview with the other guy."
"I suppose." I answered, "But will you come with me?"
"Of course, darling, if you want me to. I've got next Friday off."
"Oh my goodness! I am so sorry!" A very remorseful and somewhat frantic voice said as the door came in full contact with my shin.
"Its all right." I said grimacing. Jane helped me upright and set my briefcase down for a moment.
"I must insist on seeing you upstairs, Miss...?"
"Bennet," Jane supplied. He smiled at her. I looked up at him through squinted eyes. He was tall, blonde, with bright green eyes and an all too cheerful disposition. Just Jane's type.
As we walked up the stairs he and Jane chatted as I limped along. By the time we reached the office it was as if I didn't exist. But I just couldn't break them up; they were just so sweet. Everyone has that sweet, beautiful friend whom you just can't shut up because they are too sweet and beautiful. Or that friend who is adorable and goofy and whom you don't have the heart to snap at. Don't they? And I thought one was bad...but twice at once...sheesh...
We were standing at the receptionist's desk, Jane and this mystery guy just chatting, when who should pass by but Mr. High-and-Mighty himself.
"Good morning, Bingley." He said to our companion.
"Good morning, Darce." Mystery-man-no-longer replied brightly turning back to Jane. Jane's eyes widened and she looked at me.
"Mr. Charles Bingley?" She asked incredulously. Darcy had stopped just a yard away from me, engrossed in a pile of paper work. 'No doubt forcing starving orphans into the streets or laying off single mothers,' I thought to myself.
"Yes, what is..." He replied only to be cut off by Darcy noticing me.
"I thought I told you, Miss Bennet," he said, stressing 'Miss', "That you have to have more experience to have that job. I will not have a novice working at it."
"I was here to talk to Mr. Bingley, sir." I said coolly.
"It will do you no good, Miss Bennet. Bingley has no say over personnel. That is my department."
"In that case, Mr. Darcy, might I suggest you find another department? People skills do not seem to be your forte." I said picking up my purse, barely wincing as I hobbled towards the door. Jane stood, mouth open, still beside Bingley.
"And do not bother trying again, Miss Bennet." Darcy said after me. I turned to him, hobbling up as fast as I could.
"I would never dream of invading your space again Mr. Darcy, even if I was destitute. You are undoubtedly the coldest, most arrogant suit I have ever come across. I would not take the job if it were a life and death situation."
"Good day, Miss Bennet, I trust you can see your way out."
"And a good day to you, Mr. Darcy. May your success be unparalleled and your loneliness equal it." I said as I hobbled down the stairs, beating off Jane's arm.
Well, that does it. I've had it up to here with suits. As if the whole Darcy fiasco wasn't enough, I have been turned down my 6 firms in the course of a week. 'More experience' ought to be tattooed on their foreheads.
This has worked favorably in one area. Jane has a date with Charles Bingley next week. Can't wait until Mama hears. I could write a book about her ravings. Wait a minute. Why didn't I think of this before? I'm English major with a Creative Writing minor...so why not? I'm going to write a book.
"Elizabeth, we brought you out tonight to tell you something," Jane said, taking Charles hand, "we're getting married."
"Jane!" I cried, leaning over the table, spilling a glass of water but not stopping to notice as I grabbed my sister. "Congratulations!"
"Thank you. I knew you'd be happy for us!" Jane said quietly.
"And why wouldn't I be? You're the dearest person in the world. My best wishes for your every happiness!" I cried, still holding her hands across the table. "And you, Charles, thank you so much for making my sister so happy." He merely grinned and blushed.
"And, Elizabeth, would you be my maid of honor?" Jane asked.
"OF COURSE!" I shrieked. People at other tables were beginning to stare.
"Lizzy! Keep it down!" Jane urged, looking around with a sheepish expression.
"Of course," is whispered across the table, "Who's going to be Charles' best man?"
"Will Darcy," Charles said with a smile. My smiled immediately faded.
"Lizzy, he really is a nice fellow, once you get to know him..."
"I'm sure." I huffed. Then I put on a smiled. "I would brave the fires of hell for you, dearest Jane. I would be honored."
"Thank you, Lizzy." Jane said quietly, already giving a good impression of the blushing bride.
"So, when's the big day?" I asked leaning across the table.
3 months later
"JANE! Let me finish this chapter! I only have one more paragraph."
"Lizzy, if you don't hurry up, I'm not going to be able to get your hair up and you're not going to have time to do your makeup."
"I don't want to go. Why do I have to go, I'm not Charles' fiancée, now am I?" I muttered under my breath.
"You're going because Charles asked you, and you promised me you would." She said as she quickly put her blonde hair into a French twist and deftly pinned it.
"I suppose I did, but Jane, what am I going to do? I'll end up half drunk in a corner giggling by myself."
"Now Lizzy, you'll enjoy it. Really you will. Your chance to mingle and mix with writers and amaze them with your eloquent intellect."
"Jane, its really not like you to poke fun," I said with a smile as I put in my earrings. "Now, what were you going to do to this?" I asked, grasping a handful of my hair. She merely laughed.
"What dress are you going to wear?" She asked, finishing off the chignon.
"The black one." I answered simply.
"The black when you're a knock out in the red."
"But..."
"Wear the red. Just for me?" She pouted.
"All right! I'll wear the red." I said, grabbing it out of the closet. I pulled it on quickly and Jane ushered me out while I was still hopping around trying to get my shoes on. I had to put my makeup on in the car.
"Jane!" Charles cried as he slipped an arm around her waist and kissed her on the cheek. "Lizzy, thank you so much for coming. I think you'll enjoy it."
"Glad to be here, Charles." I replied, kissing him on the cheek. I was very fond of my brother-to-be, even his over exuberance. He's a sweet soul and Jane would be happy with him, I thought to myself as I wandered away from them to get a soda.
"Could I get you a drink?" I heard someone ask near my shoulder. I turned around and to my complete surprise found William Darcy smiling at me.
"No, thank you Mr. Darcy, I am quite capable of getting my own."
"Please, allow me, what will you have, wine, champagne...what?" He pressed.
"I don't drink alcohol, sir, and I will get my own drink thank you." I said looking him dead in the eyes. They weren't icy like the last time I had seen him. They had warmed. The ice had melted, but they weren't watery, they were friendly, and a bit confused. I smiled saucily as I took a glass of soda and found my table. To my intense dismay, I found my name card on the Lambton Publishing table. Not too bad you think? William Darcy's card was to my right. My direct right.
I saw Darcy catch up with Charles and I lost sight of them as they walked past the table, Charles smiling and Darcy staring pointedly. I realized they were not far away when I picked up on their conversation. You can't blame a girl for eavesdropping.
"Who is that at our table, Charles?" Darcy asked quietly.
"Jane's sister, Lizzy." Charles answered.
"Quite pretty, I say. Isn't she going to be to maid of honor at your wedding? Why have you never introduced me to her before?" He asked earnestly.
"Oh, you've already met."
"I don't think so, Charles. I assure you I would remember her."
"You do remember her. Elizabeth Bennet, she applied for a job at Lambton about 10 months ago." He paused as a loud 'phfzz' of wine undoubtedly came within a few inches of his suit, "Jane was with her that day, that's when I met Jane. You were really quite harsh, not to mention horribly rude."
"You've got to be wrong...that is not the same girl."
"I assure you it is, Darce. I've known her for almost a year." Bingley replied. In a moment he plopped down in the chair opposite of mine. I smiled.
"Hello again, Charlie." I smiled. William Darcy dropped heavily down into the chair on my right.
"Good evening, Miss Bennet, get your drink ok?" He asked, the tension and ice coming back into his voice.
"Yes, quite so, Mr. Darcy." I replied as I took a sip and looked back to Charles arching my eyebrows. Charles quickly hid a smirk by jumping up to help Jane into her seat.
"I can't believe the champagne isn't chilled." Came a huffy voice, whose owner sat herself down next to Charles.
"Caroline," Charles said brightly, "I don't believe you have met Jane's sister. Lizzy, this is my sister, Caroline Bingley. Caro, this is Elizabeth Bennet."
"A pleasure I'm sure," Caroline said dismissively. She automatically turned to Darcy. I could not help smiling when I saw his eyes roll.
Dinner went remarkably well. There were very few interruptions and conversation was enjoyable, simply because Caroline was busy fawning over Darcy, and Darcy was too perturbed with Caroline to open his mouth. Our conversation dealt with politics and I could tell that Darcy was aching to say something. I changed the topic to humanitarian work to disallow him the pleasure of tearing apart my ideals.
"We should be doing more in Africa, in my opinion." I said.
"Yes we should, this AIDS epidemic is getting out of hand." Charles supplied
"Yes, and all the children. They're so innocent, it breaks my heart." Jane said.
"Jane is a pediatrician." Charles and I said proudly to Caroline. She smirked and turned back to Darcy.
"We have the technology to help, but it keeps getting caught up in red tape." I sighed.
"Some people would argue, Miss Bennet, that the AIDS virus is nature taking care of the population problem." Darcy said from across the table.
"So you would rather let children die than go through the trouble of paperwork to have them helped, or the money and research to have them saved? That is a rather barbaric, not to mention inhuman, perspective." I spat.
"That is not what I said, and what are you, a bleeding heart liberal?" He sneered. As I expected, he still managed to attack me. The Neanderthal. Well, perhaps more of a Cro-Magnon...
"Since when has liberal become a bad word? If Webster's serves me correct the root of liberal is liber, which is the Latin word for 'free'. And since when has freedom become a bad thing?" I demanded.
"Exactly my sentiments, Miss..." A calm, confidently suave voice, said behind me. I turned to the speaker and smiled.
"Bennet," I said, letting him take my hand. In an all too chivalrous manner he took it and kissed it. I blushed as he released it.
"George Wickham."
"Pleasure to meet you Miss Bennet." He said.
"Hello, George." Darcy said coldly. Wickham looked at him, and I swear he blanched, and not just a little.
"Darcy, good to see you. I believe I must take me leave of you, Miss Bennet. Good evening."
"Well," I said turning back to the table, "He seems to be a pleasant sort."
"What seems to be and what really is can be often mistaken, Miss Bennet."
"A paradox, Mr. Darcy, of which I find I am quite familiar." I said, looking at him both playfully and condescendingly.
"I am afraid I don't know what you mean, Miss Bennet." He said dryly.
"Don't you, Mr. Darcy?" I asked, sipping my wine. He huffed a moment and slumped back in his chair.
I got the opportunity to talk to George Wickham later in the evening. He was a charming man, and what he said only lent weight to my previous feelings toward Darcy.
"Yes, he has a mark of goodness about him. But what seems to be and what really is sometimes contradicts." He said good-naturedly. I thought it a bit odd that they had used almost identical phrasings of that idea. "You probably noticed how quickly I left the table. I am sorry, for I wanted to stay and talk to you."
"Its all right, I assure you, Mr. Wickham." I said, placing a hand on his arm.
"George," he corrected with a smile.
"George," I replied.
"The reason is fairly personal, and I'm not sure you'd want to hear it."
"Never fear, George, William Darcy is no friend to me."
"We grew up together. His father was a landowner and a businessman, and a better man never walked this earth. Well anyway, we were friends growing up. He has a younger sister, you know, who lives with him. Georgiana. She was a darling when she was a little girl."
"And now?" I couldn't help asking.
"She has grown to be very much like her brother. Very proud, very, erm, stoic."
"Too bad."
"Yes. Well, the late Mr. Darcy died a few years back, and I was to take a part of his company. William and I were to form a partnership. However, Will turned it down immediately, and engaged Charles Bingley as a co-president. I don't hold a grudge against Charles; he's a good man. But Darcy, Darcy and I don't get on well."
"And rightly so!" I exclaimed. He placed a finger over his lips. I looked around blushing. An elderly man approached us at that moment.
"Are you Miss Elizabeth Bennet?" He asked cordially.
"Yes, I am." I replied smiling.
"Pleasure to meet you. I'm Sir William Lucas. I have to say, I'm quite impressed by you young lady."
"Whatever for?" I exclaimed.
"You're writing, of course. I read a collection of essays that you were a part of."
"Oh yes, those were published four years ago, I think." I said, my cheeks flushed as I glanced at George who looked a bit surprised.
"I look forward to reading more of your work." He said, patting my hand.
"Yes sir, I'm working on a piece of fiction right now."
"Yes, yes, very good, very good."
"Nice meeting you." I said as he began to walk away.
"Yes, a pleasure." He said with a smile.
"Sweet old man." I smiled to George. He nodded and we talked a while longer.
"I never asked, what do you do George?"
"I'm a writer," he said with a rakish smile. I covered my mouth with my hand but he waved it off. "Never fear, Miss Bennet. But now, I am intrigued. When can we expect literary fireworks from you?"
"Not fireworks, I'm sure, but a humorous book about people I know. No doubt it will sell five copies and the rest will gather dust in crates in some old warehouse, but what does it matter, its my baby. I just want to get it finished."
"I understand completely." He replied.
We continued talking for a while, until Jane came to fetch me, and by that time I had his phone number. Darcy and Bingley walked us to the door.
Jane and Charles stood by the driver's side door for a long time, talking and laughing for over half an hour. Darcy stood closer to me, his hands in his pockets.
"So," he asked in an effort I dare say he thought to be cordial, "did you enjoy your evening?"
"Yes, I did," I said with a sly smile, "it has been rather profitable."
"How so?" He asked, glancing at me sideways.
"I got a date. Been a long time since the last one."
"With, let me guess, George Wickham." He said darkly.
"But of course. He's charming and nice and handsome." I said cheekily. Darcy looked at me, his icy eyes emitting a kind of concerned anger. I turned to open my door, which Jane had unlocked at last. Jane and Charles still chatted through the open window. As I turned, Darcy caught my arm.
"Let go of me." I hissed through my teeth. He let go as if my arm had been white hot metal. And then his eyes hardened.
"Elizabeth," he whispered, "do not trust him. I beg of you, do not trust a word he says."
"Funny you should say that, Mr. Darcy. He said the same thing about you." I replied with an arched brow as I swung my legs in and shut the door.
I knocked on the door at the top of the stairs, and when it was opened, I was greeted by a blast of sound: people laughing, music playing, silverware clinking. I smiled when I saw Charles through the doorframe and made my way to him.
"Hey, Charlie!" I said, hugging him.
"Hey, yourself," He laughed, taking the wrapped gift from my hands, "How's the book coming along?"
"Pretty good! Have you seen my sister?"
"Somewhere being assaulted by Caro no doubt." He grimaced.
"She's your sister, darlin'," I said, making my way to the corned where Jane was indeed being assaulted by Caroline. On the way over I bumped into a tall form, spilling the class of champagne in his hand.
"Sorry!" I said, grabbing a napkin and taking the glass from him. I wiped off his hand without looking to see who it was. I looked up and the apologetic smile I had put quickly became forced as I looked up into the face of William Darcy.
"Good evening," he said with a superficial smile.
"Good evening, if you'll excuse me." I said, quickly ducking away. I found Jane and managed to pull her away.
"Janey, please don't tell me this is Charles'. I'll go positively mad with envy..." I said, looking around. It was the most beautiful loft apartment I'd ever seen. It looked like it was right out of a magazine. Jane smiled.
"It is lovely, it has a marvelous view of the harbor. And what's better, he has most things. We don't have to beg for a china pattern, etc., even though we're getting wedding china and crystal."
"Lucky for you!" I said.
"Oh! Time for dinner. You can find your name card, can't you? It's right beside mine."
I wandered over to the table and found that once again, I seated with Mr. High-and-Mighty. He came over to the table while Jane and Charles rounded up the rest of the guests. I still was standing there, staring venomously at my offending name card.
"Miss Bennet?" He said, and I was amazed to find that he had pulled out my chair for me.
"Thank you," I said as I sat down.
The guests finally got themselves settled and what seemed to be Charles' personal chef came out of the kitchen and served.
"Try not to spill it again," Darcy said as my wine glass was filled. "I thought you didn't drink alcohol." I didn't reply, but sat and chatted with a girl across the table.
Her name was Charlotte Lucas and she was an editor at Lambton Publishing.
"I hear from Charles that you are writing a book," She said cordially. That caught Darcy's attention and he began to listen to over conversation.
"Yes, I am." I said with a smile. "I have neglected my writing for long enough, and without any real job prospects in the near future, I decided that I could use my time productively."
"That is an excellent way to use it. When you are finished, I would be happy to edit it for you." She smiled.
"Thank you. I do my own editing, but it never hurts to have a second opinion. I'll have to take you up on that offer."
"Please do! I can't wait to see it."
"Presents!" Charles called out. Most people had finished their meals and the wrapped gifts had been moved from the living room onto a table in the dining room. Charles set mine aside as well as Darcy's and opened what seemed to be a mountain of linens, table cloths and their wedding china, along with some rather odd wall hangings and a hideous floor lamp. Jane and Charles opened the last two gifts simultaneously. I was feeling rather smug until I caught a glimpse of Darcy's gift.
It was a poster, like mine.
It was the same size as mine.
It was "The Kiss" by Gustav Klimt, like mine.
It was my gift.
"Oh goodness!" Jane and Charles laughed, holding up the identical posters. I looked at Darcy who looked at me as if I had stolen his idea. I tried to stop blushing and smile, but it was almost impossible to do so.
"What a coincidence!" and "Great minds think alike!" were called while Darcy and I stewed.
"I'll get you something else." I said at last. Jane merely laughed and shook her head.
"You'll do no such thing! This only makes it more dear!" She said, "Thank you. Thank you both."
"You're welcome," we said in unison. I decided it was ok. But I didn't feel like it was. I wanted my gift to be special, only from me. And I had had to share that with William Darcy, of all people. I hate William Darcy.
I was getting out tonight. Alone. I had gotten an invitation to an art gallery exhibit from Charlotte Lucas. I was pleased and excited at the same time. She really was a great person, and we had a lot in common.
I finally found the gallery. Opening the door, I scanned the room and quickly found her. She smiled and waved. I gasped when I saw the painting she was standing next to. It was a Monet.
"Hey!" She said, "Do you want something to drink? There's wine and such over there," She said.
"Yeah, that would be great!" I said as we walked over to the table. I grasped a glass of wine and followed her to a group of people.
"Elizabeth, this is Bill Collins, Catherine DeBourgh, Anne DeBourgh her daughter, and Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam. Everyone, this is Elizabeth Bennet."
"Nice to meet you," the Col. nodded.
"Enchanted," Bill Collins, and I couldn't get my hand away before he bestowed a sloppy kiss.
"It will be ma'am to you," Catherine said stuffily. Her daughter merely smiled and looked at her shoes. What a collection of characters.
"Are you very interested in the art world?" Colonel Fitzwilliam asked.
"I love art, but I admit, this is the first of these kinds of affairs I've ever been to. I'm content merely to look," I said. He smiled. I liked this one already.
Conversation with Charlotte and the Colonel was enjoyable. I found myself liking Charlotte more and more, and the Colonel, well, we may get to that later. Catherine, or should I say, Ma'am, on the other hand, was prissy and cold. She butted in and out of the conversation with inane comments and silly observations. In fact, she reminded me of my mother. We stood and talked for a good 30 minutes with little interruption.
"Is that my nephew? Where have you been?!" Catherine shouted, waving at some dark haired man across the room. I turned back to Charlotte as he approached.
"Good evening," the man said and Charlotte smiled and cleared her throat. I turned around.
"Mr. Darcy," I said with some surprise. He suppressed a smiled and I thought I saw humor in his eyes.
"Miss Bennet. You are enjoying the evening, I hope?" He asked cordially.
"Yes, actually. It is lovely, I have never seen such a wonderful private collection before. I do not believe it outdoes the Met, though." I replied civilly.
"No, I believe the Met has 37 Monets alone. They also have quite a few Cézannes in their Impressionists exhibit," He said, taking a sip of his wine.
"Yes, they do have a large number. I favor Monet though. Cézanne was more, earthy?"
"Yes he was. He seemed an amusing fellow though. He actually made his uncle dress up in different costumes so he could paint him."
"Yes," I laughed, "His uncle Dominic. I like the one of the guy as a priest." Darcy smiled at me. I was becoming a little disconcerted. He was being so nice, and he was smiling and he wasn't trying to catch me off my guard. In fact, it was terrifying in a Stephen King sort of way.
"So, um, how's the book coming?" He asked, changing the subject. Ah ha!
"Oh, fine. Just fine, I don't think it will take much longer to finish it."
"Oh. Hmm, what is it about again? Something about family stories or something, didn't you say?"
"Yes."
"Yes," he replied rather absently. "When you're finished, I'd like to look at it."
I stared at him, rather surprised both by his abruptness and the nature of his request. "I'm afraid you'll have to wait in line, sir. Jane, then Charlotte, then perhaps."
"I'm sure it will be worth the wait." He said, a strange expression on his face as if he was talking about more than just the book. God, he has pretty eyes... ELIZABETH BENNET, SNAP OUT OF IT! I screamed at myself. What in the world brought that thought on? My dear goodness, he is William Darcy!
"Well, I shall send it through Charles when I get a copy." What in the world am I saying?!
"I will be glad to get it." He said. I cleared my throat and looked around a bit uncomfortably. "Well, I'd best speak to my aunt."
"Yes," I replied, thanking whatever deity that he was finally going away. He smiled and nodded a bit and walked the short distance to his aunt.
I walked to a particular painting, the Monet in the corner, and stared at it a good while. Had I been looking, I might have seen Darcy glance over his shoulder every once and a while at me. But I didn't. Instead I felt a tap on my shoulder.
"Hello, Miss Bennet," The Col. said. I turned and smiled at him.
"Hello, Col."
"Call me Rick. My, Darcy is acting strangely."
"How so?" I asked, trying to be polite.
"Well, for all he talked about you, I assumed you'd talk more."
"I'm afraid I don't know what you mean,"
"Well, we've heard so much about you in the past few weeks. I just assumed you were friends. Every time he'd speak of Charles, the conversation would turn to you."
"I'm afraid I don't want to know what he said. He's not exactly my cheerleader."
"Really? That surprises me. He always spoke of your courage, your talent, and your intelligence. Nothing negative at all. Oh and your, well, never mind," He said with a smile to himself. I looked at him, then the floor, then Darcy across the room. He was looking in my direction and when he met my eye, he smiled. I turned back to the Col. What was this? Why was Darcy discussing me with this man? And why was he being NICE about it?!
"Um, how do you know Mr. Darcy, Col.?"
"Oh, did we not mention it earlier? He's my cousin." He said. I nearly lost my drink. This was just too much. Nice, amiable Col. Fitzwilliam, Darcy's cousin?
"Is this your favorite for the evening?" The Col. asked with a smile, obviously not aware of my mental struggle. By this time, Darcy had drawn closer to us, talking to Charlotte Lucas.
"I do believe this is my favorite for every evening." I said quietly getting my bearings back.
"Really?"
"Yes, there is nothing so calming as this. Look at those shades of lavender, and the peach, and the ice blue. It looks like something I'd see at home, in the early morning, just as the sun comes up over the river." I said dreamily. I finally woke out of my reverie to find Darcy standing on my other side. He and the Col. looked at each other with a grin.
"Well, perhaps you ought to speak to the owner about it." The Col. suggested.
"I could never afford it, though I would love to have it. Who is the owner?"
"I am," Darcy said with a smile, and walked to the other end of the room. I didn't speak to him again for the rest of the evening.
"Hello?"
"Hey, its George."
"Hey George, how are you?" I asked. For some reason I could only think about Darcy.
"I'm great. Listen, I was wondering if you'd like to go for dinner or something later in the week. You know, maybe Friday?"
"I'd love to." I said honestly. I pounded my forehead trying to get the image of a very concerned, not to mention very gorgeous, William Darcy out of my head. Ack! There. Gone.
"Great then, I'll pick you up at 8."
"All right, sounds good." I replied shyly, trying to hide my excitement.
"Ok, see you then."
"Bye." I said as I hung up the receiver and then proceeded to scream and jump about the room like a common school girl.
I had a dinner on Wednesday with Jane, Charles, and to my ire, William Darcy. Jane and I met them at a nice, posh little place in Manhattan.
The talk was full of wedding plans and syrupy looks between the two lovers. Darcy and I ended up staring at the ceiling in a bored fashion. Finally he said something.
"So, how's it been? Gone to any more art exhibitions?"
"No, but I have a date on Friday," I said casually.
"Oh. That's nice," He said, squirming visually.
"I think you know the guy..."
"George Wickham. I thought I warned you about him." He said, his voice not so casual as before.
"Mmmm I do believe you did, but he's such a nice fellow. I like him very much." I said. Darcy looked up with a strange, pained expression on his face.
"Oh, food!" Charles exclaimed as a waiter descended upon us. Though not very attractive, I flirted with him, just to get Darcy's hackles up.
And get up they did. Darcy flushed a little bit, and after throwing a contemptuous look at the waiter and then at me, he fiddled with his napkin and wordlessly ate his meal.
He approached me as Charles and Jane paused to say good-bye. He came up very close to my ear and said lowly: "don't make me say I told you so." He lightly touched my shoulder, and then stalked off behind Bingley.
George picked me up promptly at 8:00. It was a short drive to the restaurant. A sweet little French place, with a Provencal theme. It was cozy and we had a wonderful evening.
"So, how often do you see Darcy?" He asked casually.
"Oh, he came to dinner with Charles on Wednesday."
"Did he? That's nice," He said, a sly smile creeping over his face. I laughed. "Has he improved?"
"Little, even though he has been more cordial."
"The Ice Man is melting? Well, with such an inducement," He said, his gaze was caress-like but lustful at the same time. I blushed.
"Not melting too fast, I assure you. He was quite insistent that I not go out with you." I laughed nervously.
"Really? Why?" He asked. I noted a hint of alarm in his voice.
"He said I shouldn't trust you, etc. But he gave no reasoning, so I chalked it up to spite."
"Yeah," it was his turn to laugh nervously. I wish now I had the foresight to know that he was bad news right then. But I didn't. I was too caught up in his handsome features, his charm, his flattery.
Dinner passed with pleasant conversation, and he never mentioned Darcy again. When he dropped me off at Jane's, I found I had forgotten my key. I rang the doorbell, and as it was being answered, George kissed me. The door opened, and I pulled away, not at all happy with his presumptuous behavior. I looked up to see William Darcy standing in the doorway. And he was not happy either.
"Goodnight," I said at last, finally breaking the silence as the two men measure each other. For a moment neither stirred.
"Lizzy..." George started, trying to take my hand, donning a simpering smile that I normally would have succumbed to.
"She said goodnight, George," Darcy said abruptly. I had almost forgotten he was there. I looked up at him, biting my lip and almost wincing. He refused to look at me and continued his focus on George. I shuddered at the expression in his eyes: deadly ice.
I brushed past them both as George called out "Goodnight". For a deathly long moment, they continued to stare at each other with pure malevolence, completely immobile. At last George turned and Darcy shut the door.
He turned slowly, glancing at me briefly when he walked past. I felt my heart lurch at the frigidity of his eyes and the pain frozen beneath it. For some strange reason, I felt I had betrayed him.
I followed Will into the living room a few seconds later. I took a few moments to collect myself. Charles and Darcy had gone to dinner with Jane. Jane never relished the idea of being in the apartment by herself, and it had given her a chance to meet Darcy's sister, Georgiana. I myself had never met the girl, and will say little here of what George Wickham had to say of her.
Jane and Charles greeted me, but quickly became immersed in each other again. Darcy was silently boring a hole into our wall, so I picked up a magazine. After a few minutes, I reached for another, having already taken all the quizzes and read all the gossip. When I looked up, Darcy had turned his full attention to me.
"What?" I asked, annoyed. His eyes flashed a little and his lip curled almost imperceptibly. He averted his gaze and I sighed exasperatedly, rolling my eyes as I went back to my magazine.
By midnight Charles and Jane had gotten to the door, still talking animatedly. Darcy remained cold and distant, almost aloof, as I handed him his jacket by the door. I expected him to leave in silence, and was more than surprised when he addressed me.
"Will you have lunch with me tomorrow?" He asked agitatedly, his eyes darting around the room and his countenance flushing. I was shocked. So shocked, in fact, that I could not think up a proper excuse.
"Yes," I said finally.
"Good, 11:30 at Horister's." He said, resolutely and with no warmth. He took his jacket and walked out the door, leaving me bewildered and more than a little piqued.
"Hello," He said cordially. I was confused. Last night he had seemed like he wanted very badly to tell me off, and now he's smiling and polite. What is going on?
"Hello," I replied, picking up my menu. He smiled again, his eyes warm, just as they had been the night of the party when he didn't know who I was.
The waitress came at last and took our orders, making sure she flirted with Darcy first. He looked up at her, eyebrows raised and very pointedly looked at me. I blushed without realizing it, and was peeved at myself afterwards. When we had finally ordered and she had gone away, we started pleasant conversation.
He did most of the talking; my mind was too busy trying to figure out what precisely was going on. He told me about his sister and their home. Georgiana seemed very different by his account from what George would have me believe. But I was already having my doubts about George. Finally, the inevitable happened. He asked the question I knew he would ask.
"Did you meet George at that party?" He asked suddenly, as if it agitated him to no small degree. He sat down his half full glass of water on the white tablecloth. I looked across at him, or tried to, but my vision was obscured by a vase of orange chrysanthemums. Orange...hideous, heinous color.
"Yes," I answered casually. This caused him to look down at his napkin suddenly with his forehead furrowed. At that moment the waitress brought our food and I started to eat my Greek salad and the lovely bowl of soup. Halfway through a bite, I was interrupted by an unexpected question.
"What did he tell you about me?" It was said in a forced casual tone. It was like he had to spit it out quickly in order to ask it. He set his napkin in his lap. I sheepishly reached for my own. Stupid aristocracy. Whoever said that America doesn't have an aristocracy is the same person who said High School years the best of your life.
"Will, its really none of your business." I said with a hint of annoyance in my voice.
"Of course it is!" He exclaimed, leaning forward. "It was about me wasn't it? And I certainly want to know where I stand in the eyes of a girl who I'm very much interested in!"
The room suddenly got quiet. Will looked around with a beatific smile, and after a long moment conversations and meals were resumed. I was horrified and amazed.
"What?!" I burst out.
"Yes, I'm interested in you," He said, squirming, clearly uncomfortable. "I like you very much, and you're very intelligent and I admire you a great deal. Yes, I am very interested in you." I was livid.
"Interested?! When did you intend to ask me out properly, before the verbal diatribes, or after the withering looks? I have no reason to think well of you, Will Darcy." I hissed. "You have belittled me or insulted me from the first time I met you, except for the one instance in which you tried to flirt with me, and we know how that turned out." His face darkened. "And on top of that, poor George! Do you think anyone, save Caro Bingley, would be interested in someone that could do THAT to a fellow human being? You left him in the cold, took his job away when he was in mourning! You disregarded your father's wishes, for G*d's sake! Seriously now!"
"You seem a bit overly interested in him. Strange you should believe what that man said, the first night you met him, while I've been telling you for months that he's a scoundrel." He said hotly, coloring.
"He was telling the truth wasn't he? What is wrong with believing the truth?"
"That is not the point," he said, not even defending himself. "You should not believe everything people say the first time you meet them. You should build upon the first meeting."
"And how did you want to build upon our first meeting, Will? After you humiliated me and chucked my resume without giving it a chance, only to repeat that a week later in front of my sister, my future brother-in-law and the whole company."
"That was business..." He said lamely.
"Business? Is chucking people without giving them a chance business? In that case I'm glad I'm not in your business. But Will, I don't have a job. Have you any idea how hard it is to live off my sister? Yeah, I have my book, but unless it sells more copies than all four Harry Potters together, I'm not going to be independent anytime soon. There is nowhere that takes college editors straight out of school. Did you get your experience, by the way? Because you can da*m well shove it up your backside."
He sat stunned. He looked as it he had just had a thrashing. He looked miserable, and I felt miserable. For no reason. I had wanted to do that for so long, and it felt so terrible.
"Well...I...I though that...if I loved you...enough...never mind." He said, throwing down his napkin as he got up. He plunked more than enough money on the table and walked to the door, shoulders hunched and head bent.
My mind reeled. I felt nauseous and horrifyingly thrilled at the same time. I wanted to stand on the table and shout:
"LOVE?! WHOEVER SAID ANYTHING ABOUT LOVE?!"
But, to my completely surprise and mortification, I burst into tears.
I sat down hard when I got home. I looked at the computer and just couldn't bring myself to sit down at it and write. My head was spinning.
He said he loved me.
My head began to ache. Putting a hand to my forehead I decided the only thing to do was forget about it. Pretend it didn't happen.
That lasted all of fifteen minutes. In no time at all I was pacing the room, wringing my hands and cursing at the walls.
"But what do I care?" I asked the wall. I didn't love him, I didn't even LIKE him! Why was this so hard? The only thing to do was wait. I fixed a cup of tea, curled up under a blanket and stared blankly into space, willing my thoughts to be blank, until Jane got home.
"What's up, Lizzy?" She asked, putting away her coat. Oh GOD, why am I crying? I had taken one look at her and completely broken down. "Dear Lord, Lizzy, what is the matter?"
I didn't answer. She looked at me knowingly and sat down, pulling me to her.
"Was it Will?" She asked quietly, stroking my hair. I pulled back from her, ashen faced.
"Why would it be Will?" I asked, dashing tears from my face.
"It is Will. Lizzy," she said, taking my hand in hers, "We're not all blind you know."
"Blind to what?" I said mutely, closely followed by a snuffle.
"Will loves you. Any fool could see that."
"And I am the ultimate fool I suppose." I said miserably.
"Darling, sh..." She said softly and brought my head to her shoulder. I cried my self to sleep on her shoulder.
Three months later...
It was finished. FINALLY!!! I called Charlotte Lucas, ecstatic.
"Char? It's DONE!" I screamed over the phone.
"AT LAST! I'm so proud of you, Lizzy!" She squealed back. We had become quite good friends in the past few months. "When can I read it? I'm absolutely dying!"
"I'll fax you a copy right away. I'm so excited I can hardly breathe!" I squealed. Char laughed.
"Send it to me pronto, darling. I promise I'll read it as soon as I get it. Scouts honor."
"You really are too good to me, Char." I said as I dialed the number for her fax machine.
"I know, blah-di-blah-di-blah. Still up for drinks on Friday?"
"You bet." I replied.
I put the phone down five minutes later, absolutely beaming. It was finished. After all the work and oh, it was a wonderful feeling. I glided around happily all day. Jane particularly noticed when she got home.
"My, aren't we cheery today?" She asked, setting down the mail on the counter.
"Yes, indeed we are." I replied from to couch.
"Any particular reason? You haven't seen that Wickham fellow again, have you?"
"Och, no. Ick! After what I heard about Mary King, and after the 'incident' I'd be happy not see him for the rest of my life. But something wonderful happened today."
"You apologized to Will?" She screamed, looking excited. My spirits immediately sunk. I rolled my eyes. How could the mention of a name suck out the joy so quickly.
"No, Jane, I didn't make up (or out) with Will."
"Then what?"
"I finished my book." I said, a smile creeping over my face.
"LIZZY! I'M SO PROUD! We have to go and celebrate."
"Not necessary..."
"But Will is already going to take us out! Its perfect."
"How is spending a very uncomfortable evening in the presence of Will Darcy perfect?" I asked. Why did he have to keep coming up?!
"He's bringing Georgiana this time." Oh great, I thought, the stoic ice queen.
"Do I have to, Jane?" I asked.
"Please?" She asked, looking like a puppy dog. "It'll be my treat as this is a big day for you."
"All right. All right." I sighed. I was a bent out of shape for a few minutes, but that was quickly overcome by the glow of my pride.
I soon found out I needn't. The poor girl was scared out of her wits anyway. She sat there, a delicate creature with pale blonde hair and deep blue eyes, looking as if she was going to her execution. I immediately took a liking to her.
"Hello, Georgiana, I'm Elizabeth," I said, shaking her hand. She looked up at me, her eyes suddenly very trusting.
"It is very nice to meet you, Elizabeth. I have heard ever so much about you." She smiled tentatively. I grinned at her.
"All good, I hope. Your brother is my most severe critic." I replied as I sat down between she and Jane. At least I won't have to look at him.
"Good evening, Elizabeth," Darcy said as he sat down across from me. Blast, I thought, I would have thought he'd sit next to his sister.
"Good evening, Will." I said in a forcibly civil tone. He dropped his eyes, clearing his throat. "So, Georgiana how is school."
"I'm tutored privately, at home."
"Oh, that must be nice. You probably have time to do a lot of other activities."
"Yes, I have riding lessons, ballet, piano, and voice." She replied softly, still shy.
"You play the piano? I used to, and very badly."
"I do all right."
"Nonsense, Georgi, you're a wonderful pianist." Will said. There was a rare tenderness in his eyes when he looked at his little sister. She blushed slightly at the praise.
"What do you do, Elizabeth?" She asked.
"Um, well," I said, glancing over at Will, who was squirming in his seat. "I'm a writer."
"Really?" This seemed to spark an interest. "What kinds of things to do write?"
"I just finished a novel, but before that, I had several essays published."
"How wonderful." She said quietly. Will was looking at me intensely. I raised my brows and looked away.
Dinner passed tolerably well. I really liked Georgiana, and I was glad she was going to be one of Jane's bridesmaids. She seemed to have a very sweet disposition, even if she was terribly shy.
Jane took me out for Haagen-Daz after dinner. When we arrived home, the light was blinking on the answering machine.
"Hello, Lizzy, this is Will. You said you'd finished your book, and I was wondering if I could have a look at it. You said I could, at the art gallery. Um, just give me a call or something and, um, yeah. Well, bye." I stared at the machine.
"Lizzy," Jane said, "Are you going to let him?"
"Why not," I sighed. "I'll call him in the morning."
I did find a publisher, Brighton, and three months later the first copies hit the shelves. And when they did, they hit them hard.
I woke up to the sound of the buzzer wringing at the door.
"Who's there?" I asked sleepily.
"UPS ma'am. We've got a delivery for one Elizabeth Bennet of this address."
"Yeah, be there in a sec." I yawned. Why did it have to be 7 a.m. on a Saturday. I still wondered what it was.
I wandered downstairs in my slippers and robe. The man on the street smiled.
"Are you Miss Bennet? Sign here, please." He said, giving me a clipboard. I signed and he ran to his truck and brought back a large, thin, rectangular package. I looked at it oddly, but took it and thanked the deliveryman.
I hauled the thing up and set it on the couch, cutting the twine that held the plain brown paper. As I tore open the paper something fluttered out onto the floor. I picked up an envelope with my name on it and set it aside.
I finished tearing of the paper and turned it around. It was a framed picture, wire still intact on the back. I nearly fainted as I turned it around.
"JANE!" I screeched. She ran out of her bedroom, pulling her robe around her.
"What is it?" She asked anxiously. I turned the picture around. "Oh my God." She gasped.
It was a Monet. The Monet. The one at the art gallery. The one that was property of William Darcy.
"Does it have a card, or letter or anything? Will wouldn't send it without a reason."
I picked up the plain little card and slowly opened it. Out fluttered a newspaper clipping and a little note.
"Congratulations, Lizzy. Will." Was written on the note, but I couldn't figure out what he was congratulating me on. My book being published? Why the painting.
I heard Jane shriek. I turned and she was jumping up and down, running in place, staring at the piece of newspaper.
"Wha?" I asked, confused. She thrust it at me. At the top of the clipping in bolded black letters was:
(1) Meryton Crossing--- Elizabeth Bennet
The weeks following were a whirlwind of color and confusion. I was thrust automatically into the spotlight of the literary world. Interviews with CNN and a thirty-minute slot on the Book-TV channel. It was almost too much for me to stomach.
Jane and Charles were at every little appearance, cheering in the front rows or buying their fifth copy of my book. Hey, every little bit helped. The strangest thing about all of the engagements was I was very conscious of a familiar figure in the back row of the auditoriums or at the door of the little bookshops. It puzzled me and I struggled to pinpoint who it was. I even considered Will for a time, but that turned out to nothing since he came to one or two things and was very obviously not in two places at one time.
Then it dawned on me, much too late I might add, that the person was George Wickham. And he happened to come to the signing the day my entire family was present.
Have I ever mentioned my family in this narrative? If not I shall do so now with pleasure and a touch of chagrin. Both for their behavior and the events that followed this one day.
My father is a wonderful man, even if he doesn't have a backbone. It was he who instilled in me my love for books and knowledge (of the non-mathematical sort). Born and raised in a small town in England he had a natural ease and wisdom about him. Throughout my mentally developing years he was my guide, and I will always thank him for it.
Now, as wise and agreeable as my father is, common sense was not always his biggest asset. And that's where we get down to his choice of wife. Not that my mother was not loving or decent to her children. She was just a bit of an obnoxious old cow at times. Well, the majority of times. Plus her favorite pastime was gossiping. She was very sweet and loving to Jane and my youngest sister, Lydia, but she seemed to have it in for me. I suppose it was because I was my father's daughter. Theirs was not a match made in heaven. In fact, I'm surprised they stayed together as long as they did.
My younger sisters were always a bit of a nuisance, and not simply because they were younger sisters. Mary was sensible and plain, but she was also annoying and always spouting ideals that were not her own. Kitty was, and still is, as sweet and pretty girl, but was definitely not the sharpest knife in the drawer. And Lydia....well Lydia deserves her own paragraph.
Lydia is the youngest of my three sisters. And she is a brat. I know, I'm too old to be categorizing people that way, but Lord-have-mercy, it is the Truth with a capital T. Lydia was used to getting everything she wanted, when she wanted it. And that did not exclude any of the following that belonged to any of her four sisters: clothing, makeup, cars, CDs, videos, and the kicker: boyfriends. Yes, Lydia is on of THOSE girls. The kind even her family can't stand. The kind that thinks every boy is in love with her and every girl wants to be her. The kind that makes you want to stand in the middle of Grand Central Station and scream so loud the painting of Cancer the Crab will peel off the ceiling.
All right. Phew. Enough about my family. On with the show.
Yes, George Wickham came to my book signing. And behaved as charmingly as possible. And I fell for it again. I must be a masochist, because I love the bang my head against walls over and over and over and over again.
And I was so blinded by his praise that I didn't even notice him giving my seventeen-year-old sister the once-over. So I signed his book and sent him on his merry way. Lord, I will never learn.
And things began to get tough. I was strained by the overwhelming attention that my one little book generated. I could hardly hold my head up long enough to drink my coffee. And on top of it all, Will came back into the picture,
I didn't know how to act around him. For weeks I just muddled my way through polite conversations trying not to think about either his love comment that awful day at the restaurant or the Monet original that was hanging over my desk at home. It's the worst feeling the world, tiptoeing around someone. Especially someone you hardly like.
Yes, I admit, he was far more pleasant now than he was. Almost as if he was trying to prove something to me. I don't know what, but it was something, that's for sure. But even when he smiled, I still saw a sadness in his eyes. They never iced over anymore. It was like he was suddenly unable to suppress emotion. And I wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.
Lydia decided that she was going to stay with Jane and me for a while during the summer. Which of course was fine with Jane, though it didn't go over well with me, I couldn't think of just cause other than her being a floozy to keep her home. And so she came. And immediately started getting phone calls from men.
The weirdest phone call of all was from none other than George Wickham. He asked Lydia out on a date for, I will never forget it, July 14th. That was a Saturday. And it was a Saturday that altered the course of my insignificant life.
Georgiana Darcy and I had become good friends. She was desperately in need of an older friend who had already been in her shoes. And so on Saturday, July 14th, a day when the French are all out partying to celebrate the beginning of the bloodiest revolution of all time, I was waiting for Georgiana Darcy to get back from a lesson so we could catch a movie.
I was sitting all by my lonesome in the front parlor of the Darcy townhouse (the housekeeper had let me in) when Will came home. I must admit there was a veritable feast of expressions that ran across his face before he actually spoke.
"Hello, Elizabeth. I suppose you're here to collect Georgi?" He said, obviously checking himself and putting on a smile. That sadness...
"Yes, we're going to a movie tonight. Lydia is out with George and Jane is out with..." I was very abruptly cut off.
"With WHO?" he nearly shouted.
"George..." I said, very much confused.
"WICKHAM? Have you NO sense at all, Lizzy?!" He said. "Did you not read my letter? Or did you just chalk it up to spite again?"
"The note? The congratulatory one? Or the clipping?"
"No, the letter I put under your door the day after the restaurant fiasco!" He was really angry now. Will Darcy in a rage is not something you want to face.
"I never got a letter, Will." I said, getting up. "What did it say."
"I'm taking you over there right now, you have to read it..."
"Why can't you just tell me?"
"I'm too angry for words, Elizabeth. Both at myself, and at George Wickham." He said in a terrifyingly calm manner.
Within fifteen minutes (spent in silence) we were back at my flat and I had opened the door. Will kicked away the doormat and handed me a white envelope that was beneath it.
Across it in a neat script was: Miss Elizabeth Bennet
Will moved to the back of the room, hands behind his back. He paused for a moment.
"Read it, for all that is Holy, Lizzy!" He cried, running one hand through his hair in exasperation.
I nodded slowly and put my finger under the edge of the envelope and tore through the age-stiffened paper. Once that was done, I pulled the sheets of neatly folded paper out and opened them.
Dear Elizabeth,Please read this, I beg of you not to put it down, burn it or throw it away. It won't contain any pleas for you to reconsider or declarations of love. You heard all that yesterday and I have no wish to rehash the pain that no doubt we both felt.
But I do have to defend myself. Lizzy, I have regretted being both rude and not hiring you since you walked out of my office that first day I knew you. It was beastly of me and I can only say I'm sorry. I can understand if you don't forgive me.
You also accused me of cruelty of George Wickham. What do I have to do to make you understand how untrustworthy and dangerous he is? Tattoo it on my forehead? Lizzy, STAY AWAY FROM HIM. I do believe I need to explain exactly why I'm so emphatic on this point.
I have known George since I was a small child. In those days, we were inseparable. Best friends. And we remained so throughout our childhood. When George was eight, his father, mother and an elder sister were killed in a car accident. George was left and orphan, and as his father was my own father's best friend, he came to live with us. All was fine for a while.
George and I were both sent to private schools in England. I spent most of my childhood in America, but George was born and raised in Britain until his parents' deaths. We were friends at school, even through secondary school, when George started to change. George started drinking, heavily. It resulted in his expulsion from the school I attended. He was sent to another and graduated, going on to study at the University. But once he was expelled, our friendship was never the same.
Five years ago, my father died. He left his company to me with the instructions that George would become a senior partner. I offered this to George, but he refused and was granted $500,000 instead of the job. He spent that in less than a year.
I thought that after that our relationship as a whole was completely dissolved. I was wrong. How horribly wrong I was. I met him again last year.
I have a sister, Georgiana, who is almost exactly 10 years my junior. She's still in school actually, just seventeen. Last year she went with a group of friends to the beach, during spring break. She met George there. She knew nothing of his habits and ways and I berate myself every time I look at her for not telling her.
He took her out a couple of times. I came down to meet her one evening, and as I came up the stairs to the cottage, I heard her screaming. I managed to get through the door in time to see Georgie being dragged up the stairs by George. I immediately ran after him and barely managed to catch him as he tried to escape.
He begged and pleaded, and since Georgie was only seventeen, I decided it was best to let him go. George had already hurt Georgie enough and I would not let her be further distressed by a public hearing.
So now I beg you, Elizabeth, take my word. He is a scoundrel. Take care of yourself and learn from the experience of others. Don't be rash.
I guess that's all there is left to say, other than I'm sorry for whatever discomfort I may have caused you.
Sincerely,
William Darcy
"Oh my God, Will," I gasped, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to spill over my cheeks.
"I'm only sorry you didn't read it sooner." He said quietly, facing me again. His face was pale and he clenched his jaw as he stared at the floor.
"Poor Lydia. Poor Georgie!" I exclaimed, feeling the tears hot and fast on my cheeks. He did the most unexpected thing. He hugged me.
"She's all right now. We've got to worry about your sister." He said, but I only sobbed into his shoulder. "Come on, let's go."
He was pulling me out the door when I saw the light on my answering machine flashing. I put my hand on his arm and went back to it. I pushed the 'play' button. Lydia's voice filled the room.
"Lizzy and Jane, its me! You will be surprised when you find out that I am gone. I have left for a bit of a vacation, and if you don't know with who you're both bigger idiots than I thought. I'll call later if I feel like it."
"Oh God..." I said, running into the guest room. The bed was made, the drawers were empty and the dresser was cleared of all make-up. No traces of Lydia.