Previous Section, Section XI, Next Section
Posted on Thursday, 21 March 2002
March 2
Darcy stepped off the treadmill and reached for the television remote control. He changed the channel from CNN to the Weather Channel. As he caught his breath, he watched the local forecast. It looked like a dreary weekend, which was probably a blessing, as he had brought home a stack of reports to read before Monday's meetings.
He walked into the kitchen and poured a mug of coffee.
"Good morning, Mr. Darcy."
"Good morning, Mrs. R. What's for breakfast?"
"Is French toast all right?"
"Wonderful. Just give me ten minutes to take a quick shower."
In ten minutes, he was sitting at the table in the kitchen, eating breakfast and telling Mrs. Reynolds how much better things seemed to be between Chris and Georgie.
"At least they're talking. I'm not expecting this to last forever and lead to marriage. I have nothing against Chris, but they've got a lot of schooling ahead of them, and it's unrealistic to expect this to be IT. But I'd hate to see them break up over a misunderstanding."
"I am glad. Georgie was quite nervous last night before he arrived. I was tempted to look in on them, but I resisted the urge."
"They were laughing over fortune cookies when I came in." Darcy drained the last of his coffee and placed his napkin on the table. He stood and smiled at the housekeeper. "Breakfast was delicious. I'm going into my study. I have work to do this weekend, but I can be interrupted if anyone calls or if Georgie needs me."
Darcy went into his study and closed the door. He glanced at the pile of paper on the desk. Instead of sitting in his desk chair, he sat on the sofa and reached for the telephone.
"Hello?"
"Good morning, Jane. It's Will. Is Lizzy there?"
"Yes, she is. Hold on."
"Will! Good morning!"
"Good morning to you. I thought you might like an update on Georgie."
"Oh, yes, how did it go?"
"Well, I think. When I got in they were sitting in the living room, laughing. There were remnants of Chinese take-out on the coffee table and Georgie was reading the fortune from her fortune cookie."
"That sounds good."
"Yes. I haven't talked to her this morning, so I guess I'd say my feelings about their relationship at the moment are guarded optimism."
"I'd prefer full optimism, but..."
"I'm optimistic about some relationships. Speaking of which, can you come over for supper on Sunday evening? I have a ton of work to do this weekend, so by then I'll be in the mood to relax."
"Yes, that would be nice. I'm cleaning out closets this weekend, so I'll be up for a treat."
"Good, see you on Sunday."
Richard looked at the six other tourists who had signed up for the walking tour. He had been to Miami Beach before and knew a little about the architecture of the Deco District of South Beach. He had to admit that he knew more about the bars and restaurants than about the design of the buildings they were in. The guide led them to a shady spot in Lummus Park to begin the orientation.
From the park, they could look across the street at the hotels. The ziggurat rooflines, the "eyebrow" lines above the windows, the use of round windows all were characteristic of the deco style. The pastel colors were not strictly deco. The pink and yellow and blue hues were introduced during the years when the deco buildings had been saved and restored.
The guide pointed out a building that was clearly not deco. The Mediterranean-style building had been the Versace home, but it had been sold and was now a hotel.
"It doesn't look like a hotel," commented the young woman from London. "It doesn't even have a sign."
"Very exclusive," explained the guide. "There are just a few apartments and they go for thousands of dollars per night."
Richard winced. The Tides certainly wasn't a budget hotel, but its price was looking a lot better all of a sudden.
The guide pointed at another hotel and asked, "Who remembers the Frank Sinatra movie 'A Hole in the Head?' No? I guess you're a bit young. Well, that hotel was the one they used in the movie. Now it belongs to Gloria Estefan."
Richard looked at the Cardozo. Classic deco style, but in very neutral colors, as opposed to the "beach pastels" of the others. They also passed some hotels that were boarded up, awaiting new owners. After a discussion of real estate costs and the restrictions on building heights and renovations in the Deco District, their guide walked them back a block from the ocean. He pointed out some "cell-block modern" apartment buildings as evidence of the importance of preserving the older buildings. They all nodded solemnly at this part of the lecture.
On Washington Street, they paused to look at a row of stores that had been reconstructed after a fire. The guide showed how, for the most part, the more modern construction reflected the Deco style of its neighbors. When asked about the section of the building that had a mirror-glass facade, the guide sighed, "Some things slip by the planning board."
When they walked past the Kenmore Hotel, a teenager from Georgia nudged her mother, and giggled, "Don't you have a Kenmore washing machine?" Richard smiled, recalling that his apartment had a Kenmore washer and dryer. I really need to learn how to use them, he thought.
When the tour ended, Richard asked the guide for suggestions for souvenir shopping. "I know that your shop sells lots of nice Deco District things, and I've already bought a few things there, but I want, um, you know, touristy kinds of things."
"You mean plastic flamingoes?"
"Yeah! That would be just the thing!"
The guide laughed and mentioned a few stores farther up Washington. Richard thanked him and headed off in search of any and all things flamingo. The store Richard found had rack upon rack of T-shirts, and shelves of souvenirs. He couldn't resist a tchotchke for Georgie. It looked like a block of hotels and a stretch of beach. Flying over the hotels was a biplane pulling a banner that read "Welcome to Miami Beach."
Then Richard turned his attention to T-shirts. He found just the thing-a white T-shirt in a huge size. On the front was a large bright pink flamingo, wearing sunglasses. To accessorize it, he selected a pair of dangling palm-tree earrings. Grinning, he paid for his purchases and returned to his hotel.
Georgie looked at the clock. It was 10:30! She hadn't slept so well in over a week. She wasn't surprised at sleeping so late. She had been up late the night before, writing in her journal. She stretched and reached for the journal. She wanted to read it again.
Last night had been better than she had expected. In some ways it had felt the same as it used to-they swapped stories about things that had happened in their classes, laughed at little jokes, talked about everyone's plans for Spring Break, all the little things that they would have done regardless of the disastrous weekend.
But there still was an underlying tension, a sense of insecurity. Georgie knew that Chris was unsure of her stability. She had scared him, and he hadn't liked it. Not that she could blame him. When she read his description of that Sunday afternoon, it frightened her, too.
Chris hadn't asked her to promise never to do something like that again. He seemed to feel that she couldn't promise that. She certainly wanted to believe that she would never again fly off the handle like that. But she wasn't sure how well she knew herself. If someone had told her that she would freak out over another woman and bolt like that, she would have said "no way." Yet she had done it. What should she have done in that situation? What would other women do?
What would other women do? If it had been Sandy, Kitty would have stormed into the store and ripped into Nikki right then and there. If it had been Will, Lizzy would have waited outside the store and ripped into him. And Anne? Anne would have laughed. But on the inside, she would have cried.
By now it was 11:00. Time to get up. She poured herself a cup of coffee and went in search of her brother.
"Will? Are you busy?"
Darcy looked up from behind his desk and yawned, "Monthly reports. Deadly dull. Come distract me from my work. How is Chris?"
"He's OK."
"You two seemed pretty comfortable last night. Have you patched it up?"
She shrugged as she sat on the sofa. "We're better. Not as good as we were before, but I have to take the blame for that. Poor Chris, I should have trusted him."
"Don't dwell on the past, except as it teaches you to do better next time. Not that I'm hoping there will be a next time, you understand."
"I know what you mean, Will. The thing is, I had no idea I was capable of such irrational behavior. I think back on that day and I want to ask myself, 'Who is that stupid girl?'"
Darcy moved to sit next to his sister. He put his arm around her shoulders, "Don't beat yourself up about it, Sweetie. I know that you're sorry and so does Chris. I have to take a share of the blame here. I guess Lizzy was right about me. I have been overprotective. Maybe I should have given you more opportunities to get used to people, take a few small knocks, so you'd be better prepared for big ones."
"No, Will, this one's on me." She smiled, "By offering to take some of the blame, you're softening the blow for me again."
"So I am. It's almost a reflex. I can't bear to see you unhappy."
"Don't worry, Will. I'm not unhappy. A little uncertain, maybe, but not unhappy."
Anne growled as she crumpled another sheet of paper. She started her sketch again, but seemed to be making the same mistakes. The perspective was all wrong, or maybe it was the shadows. She had the dog right. But the figure in the foreground wasn't right. She closed her eyes and tried to remember the beach and the inlet with the dock. She could almost hear the high-pitched voice calling "Wait for me!"
Anne jumped when she heard the knock on her bedroom door. She ran into her room, closing the door to the studio behind her.
"Yes?"
"Miss Anne, the mail is here."
Anne opened the door and took the pieces of mail from the maid. She thanked the maid and returned to her room.
Three credit-card offers, a brochure from a resort, a department-store bill, and a post card. The post card showed a row of South Beach hotels at night, their facades illuminated with neon lights. She turned it over. All it said was "Wish you were here!" It wasn't signed. Instead of a signature, there was a smiley face. Anne made a frowny face.
"Wish you were here," she muttered. "Now that's original. So, Richard, did what's-her-name help you write that?"
Jane and Charles buttoned their coats against the dreary weather as they emerged from Madison Square Garden.
"Wow! Charles, I had no idea this place was so complicated. I never knew they put the floor down over the ice like that."
"Any arena with both a hockey team and a basketball team does that. Concerts, the dog show, it all goes down over the ice."
"Well, thanks for arranging the tour. Did you get your interview?"
"Yes, I'll have to go home and type up my notes. Come home with me? You could watch a video or something, and then we can go to dinner when I'm done."
"How about this-I'll cook supper while you write. We can stop at that market just down from your apartment."
"You don't have to do that, Jane."
"I'd love to. Besides, Lizzy is at home on a closet-cleaning binge, and I'd prefer to stay out of the way."
"Is it that bad?"
"Well, it starts with her closet. Then it moves on to her dresser, then her desk. She starts out tough, getting rid of lots of things she hasn't worn in quite a while. Then she starts to weaken, and things that ought to go out end up back in the closet."
"All of it?" Charles asked as he hailed a taxi.
After they were in the taxi, Jane answered his question, "Oh, no, not all. She does clear out things she doesn't need. But she always keeps a few things she probably should toss out."
"What about you?"
"I clean out in little bits. If I notice something that I haven't worn in a year, out it goes. Our aunt picks up the clothing and takes it to a church that has a shelter, so at least we know it's going to good use."
"That's a good idea. I don't do that. I just wear clothes do death. They sort of move down the food chain of clothing, being demoted to more and more casual or at home use until they're too worn to be of use to anyone."
"The food chain of clothing?"
"Yeah, shoes, too. Especially sneakers. The good ones for the gym, then the ones I wear to walk or run outdoors, then the older ones that I wear on rainy days so that I don't wreck the better ones. Like that.'
"Do you organize your closet by the food chain?"
"Yeah, I have to. One day, I almost wore a ratty old sweater to work. That's when I knew I had to keep the casual stuff and the grubby stuff separate. Caroline hates it when she stops by and I'm in crummy jeans and a beat-up old sweater."
"Why should she care?"
"That's it," Charles tapped on the divider that separated the driver from the passengers. The driver stopped and Charles paid him. Once they got into the market, Charles returned to his conversation with Jane.
"Why does Caroline care what I wear around the apartment? Because I am supposed to sit around looking like a successful journalist-make that her notion of a successful journalist. She actually bought me a smoking jacket to wear while I work."
"Get out! A smoking jacket? You don't smoke!"
"That's what I told her! She has this image of me sitting at home, looking elegant and thinking up wonderfully clever things to write, like I'm the reincarnation of Noel Coward. She doesn't have a clue. Anyway, enough about my sister. What are we having for dinner?"
Lizzy closed her closet door and looked with satisfaction at the pile of clothing on the bed. She found some shopping bags and packed them as full as she could. She was about to call her aunt to find out when the clothes could be dropped off when the telephone rang.
"Hello?"
"Hi Lizzy! It's me. I'm at Charles's place. He's writing his column and I'm going to fix supper."
"My goodness, that sounds domestic."
"You know what they say about the way to a man's heart, Lizzy."
Lizzy laughed, "If I tried it, the way to my man's heart would include a detour to the poison control center!"
"Come on, Lizzy, you can cook some things."
"Oh yeah, what a repertoire-bacon and eggs, slice-and-bake cookies, hot dogs-"
"Lizzy!"
"OK, I'm not quite that bad. What are you making for Charles tonight?"
"Chicken in white wine. And strawberries for dessert. The market by Charles's place had good ones, well, good for winter berries anyway. I was going to dip them, but they wouldn't harden by the time we plan to eat."
"Ooh, chocolate-covered strawberries. What a great idea!" Lizzy laughed, then groaned, "Gah! Now you've made me crave chocolate covered strawberries! I wonder if Fairway has them already done?"
"Go buy some berries and dip them yourself. It isn't hard, just melt chocolate chips and dip the berries."
"Mmm, I might just do that. So, Jane, will I see you tonight?"
"I don't think so, Lizzy."
"See you tomorrow then, I guess. Bye, Jane."
After she hung up the telephone, Lizzy wandered into the kitchen, imagining Darcy reading or working in the other room while she puttered in the kitchen, producing a delicious-smelling, tasty dinner. From there, her imagination led her to wonder what it would be like to have dinner with Darcy and then have him stay the night. She could bring him hot coffee in bed in the morning.
Lizzy looked down at the empty coffee mug she held in her hand. She had been about to walk into the bedroom with it. She shook her head. She knew if she spent the night with Darcy it would be about more than a fantasy of playing house. But how much more? And was she ready for that? Was he?
To distract herself from questions she couldn't-or wouldn't-answer, Lizzy started poking around in the cupboards, looking for inspiration. When she found a bag of chocolate chips, she found herself craving chocolate-covered strawberries again. She grabbed her keys and her coat and ran out to the store.
Caroline Bingley tapped her long and perfectly manicured nails on the desktop. She hated being put on hold, and often hung up if left unattended for more than two minutes. But this was important.
"Sorry, Caro, dear, but I had to take that call. Now, I rarely have any luck with boxes, as they're usually all for season holders, but there might be a few odd seats available somewhere. What if I can't get you anything for Saturday? Would Thursday or Friday be possible? Saturday is just so unlikely, you know."
"Just get me good seats. I need to make an impression."
"Do you care what they're doing that night?"
"No, just that the seats are good."
"Subscribers get first pick, so don't expect prime seating."
"What about that premium seats on short notice thing?"
"That's for just a few Broadway plays, Caro. I'm sure I could get you something on Broadway."
"No, Louisa! I told you what I want!"
"All right, dear, but I have to do this quietly. I'm really only supposed to do this kind of thing for guests of the hotel."
"Yeah, like your boss is going to notice."
"Like guests are going to notice if they ask for my help and I say I'm too busy hunting up tickets for my sister."
"OK, OK, I'll owe you a favor. Please, Louisa!"
"I'll get right on it, miss. I'll let you know what I can find."
Caroline put down the phone. Obviously, a guest had approached Louisa at the concierge desk at the hotel where she worked. Caroline hoped that the guest wouldn't waste too much of Louisa's time, not when she had something important to do.
As soon as she got home, Lizzy picked over the strawberries to select the best ones. She rinsed them and put the colander in the refrigerator. While the fruit chilled, she heated and ate the portion of lasagna she had bought for her supper.
After she ate, she took the berries out of the refrigerator and opened the bag of chocolate chips. She dumped the chips into a small bowl, and melted them in the microwave. Lizzy picked up a strawberry by the leaves, and dipped it into the chocolate, and set it on a plate. She dipped a few more, then noticed some lumps in the chocolate. She reheated the chocolate to make sure all of the chips had melted, then turned back to the counter where her first few berries were sitting.
She saw that the chocolate on the dipped berries was already starting to harden. She nudged one to see how well it was set, and the chocolate fell away from the fruit. Puzzled, she tested another and the same thing happened.
Frowning, Lizzy looked up Charles's number so that she could call Jane. She glanced at the clock, and realized that Jane and Charles were probably finished with dinner by now. She couldn't bear to bother them. She couldn't bring herself to call her mother to ask for cooking help. Then she remembered that she knew another good cook.
"Darcy residence."
"Hi, Mrs. R. It's Lizzy."
"Hello, Miss Bennet. Mr. Darcy is in. I'll just-"
"No! I want to talk to you."
"Yes, what is it?"
"I'm trying to dip strawberries, but the chocolate won't stick. It sort of falls away and looks icky. I don't know what to do." Lizzy looked mournfully at her failed samples.
"Oh, I see. Did the chocolate melt smoothly?"
"Yes."
"And the berries are fresh? Not going soft?"
"I sorted through them carefully. They're ripe, but not soft."
"Hmm, let's see, did you wash the berries?"
"Of course I did."
"And dry them?"
"I let them drain while they were in the refrigerator."
"Ah, I see."
"What? What did I do wrong?"
"The berries have to be absolutely dry. Moisture on the surface keeps the chocolate from sticking. And don't chill them. The colder the berries, the more likely you are to get condensation on them. Let them come closer to room temperature, then blot them carefully on a paper towel, and you'll have no trouble."
"I had no idea. I thought chilling them would set the chocolate better."
"It will set at room temperature. Just dip them and let them be. Don't go poking at them. Oh, and do you have any raisins or nuts around?"
"Why?"
"If you have melted chocolate left over, throw nuts or raisins in to make candy. I toast almonds and make almond bark that way some times."
"Ooh, what a great idea! You're a treasure, Mrs. R! If they come out OK, I'll bring some with me tomorrow. Don't tell Will. I want to surprise him, OK?"
"Whatever you say, Miss Bennet."
"Good night. And thanks!"
Before long, Lizzy had two dozen beautifully dipped strawberries and a few pieces of homemade almond bark. Look at that, she smiled to herself, am domestic genius in manner of she paused, while she tried to think of a chocolatier. In manner of Lady Godiva!
Posted on Thursday, 21 March 2002
March 3
Richard stepped off the elevator and sniffed hopefully. No smell of coffee greeted him. Glancing at his watch, he realized that Darcy had probably finished breakfast hours ago. Inside his apartment, Richard set down his bags and began to sort through his mail. Junk mail and bills weren't very appealing, so he started a pot of coffee and went into his bedroom to unpack.
Not usually a vain man, Richard couldn't resist pausing when he passed the mirror. He had spent only a few days at the beach, but he had picked up a decent tan. He couldn't wait to show it to his cousins!
After he had his coffee, Richard picked up the bag that held Georgie's souvenir and went to his cousins' apartment.
"Look who's here!" said Mrs. Reynolds, leading Richard to the living room, where Darcy and Georgie were reading the Sunday papers.
"Richard!" Georgie jumped up and ran over to him. He gave her a hug, and lifted and spun her around.
"Hello, Gorgeous! I have a present for the first one who can answer my question. Are you ready?"
Georgie giggled and nodded. Darcy smiled indulgently. "Ready," he said.
"OK. Why is tomorrow's date special?"
"Tomorrow?" mused Georgie. "It isn't anyone's birthday, is it? What is tomorrow's date?"
"March fourth," answered her brother.
"Exactly!" crowed Richard.
"So, it's the fourth of March. Why is that significant?"
"You don't get it?"
"Obviously not, Richard."
Looking terribly pleased with himself, Richard announced, "Tomorrow is the only day that is also a command."
"Huh?" asked Georgie, wrinkling her brow.
"March fourth. March forth!" Grinning, Richard marched in place. Georgie groaned. Darcy shook his head.
"You didn't get my joke, but you get presents because I love you anyhow. Here you are!" He handed Darcy a book on deco architecture. He gave Georgie her block of buildings.
"Ooh! It's cute, I love the little plane!" She kissed Richard's cheek. "I have a block sort of like this from Boston. I'll put this on the shelf with it. Thanks, Richard!"
Richard watched her run from the room. He turned to Darcy, "She seems OK."
"She saw Chris this week, and they're working things out. Time will tell, I suppose. Thanks for the book, Richard. The photographs are excellent."
"You're welcome. Aren't you going to compliment me on my tan?"
"Oh, yes, lovely, simply lovely."
Richard glared at his cousin. "You're just envious."
Darcy sighed, "I don't find vacations on my own to be much fun."
"Then get yourself a woman and take her with you, Darce! Speaking of getting yourself a woman, how's Lizzy Bennet?"
"She's fine."
"That's it? 'She's fine?' I'd like a more complete report than that."
"Sorry, Richard. That's all you're going to get."
"Hmph. If that's how you're gonna be, I'll be going. I'm home for the next month at least, so we'll have to get together. I have errands to run, so I'd better go. See you, Darce."
"Bye, Richard. Thanks again for the book."
Lizzy looked up from the crossword puzzle. She had about a quarter of the puzzle to go, and what wondering how Will was doing at it. She reached for the phone and called his number.
"Darcy residence."
"Hi, Mrs. R. It's Lizzy. Thanks for your help last night. I tried what you said and the strawberries came out perfect."
"Good for you! Would you like to speak to Mr. Darcy?"
"Yes, please."
"Just one moment."
Lizzy frowned at the puzzle. She hated rivers of Europe. And the clues going down weren't helping.
"Lizzy! How are you?"
"Fine, Will. Just doing the puzzle."
"Ah, did you call me for help?"
"Ha! If I need help, I should call Anne, she was the winner last week."
"Ouch! Did I tell you she faxed me the daily puzzles each day this week, with the suggestion that I use them for practice?"
"She is too much!"
"So why did you call? I hope you aren't canceling for tonight."
"Oh, no. I just was doing the puzzle and it made me think of you."
"That's nice. I'd like to have dinner a bit early tonight. My calendar is jammed solid with meetings tomorrow, so I'd like to make it an early night. So come over whenever you feel like it. Say, four o'clock?"
"OK"
"Or maybe three?"
"Fine."
"Or two?"
Lizzy giggled, "Is that your final answer? I'm still waiting for Jane to get home. She stayed at Charles's last night. I need to get caught up with her. I'll see you in a while."
"Fair enough. I'll be here, just pining away."
"I'll have to think of some way to cheer you up."
"Oh, yes please!"
"Oops! I hear Jane coming in. I'll see you later. Bye, Will!"
Darcy hung up the telephone. So, Jane had stayed with Charles again. That relationship was getting very serious, despite Caroline's attempts to sabotage it.
Darcy's mind wandered. as it so often did, to thoughts of his relationship with Lizzy. He hadn't had a serious relationship in some time. And even the few serious girlfriends he'd had were never invited to stay the night at his apartment. He didn't want Georgie to know about them. He was trying to set an example. But it was different with Lizzy. Georgie knew they were seeing each other. And she must be wondering what was going on between them-and probably hoping for more than there was at the moment.
But Darcy felt squeamish about asking Lizzy to stay when Georgie was there. It was off-putting to imagine having sex while his kid sister was in the next room. And if Lizzy spent the night, breakfast would be awkward. Georgie's typical "Did you have a good time last night?" questions would be tinged with all sorts of new meanings.
Maybe they could go away for a weekend. Georgie would figure out why they were going away, but as long as she wasn't there with them, that shouldn't inhibit him. Maybe he'd talk to Lizzy about it tonight.
The maid answered the door and told Richard that his aunt and uncle were out, but that Miss Anne was in. He waited in the living room while the maid went upstairs to announce the visitor.
"Richie, what brings you here today?"
"Why, Annie m'love, do I need a reason to visit my favorite cousin?" Richard turned to look at Anne as he spoke. He stopped speaking and stared. She obviously had been working in her studio. She was wearing an old white shirt that bore a number of paint stains. Her hair was pulled back from her face, and she wore no makeup. She was as pale as Richard was tan.
"Anne! Are you all right?" The concern in his voice was unmistakable.
"Do I look that bad?" She stood in a defiant pose, but Richard sensed she wasn't as confident as she tried to look.
"Not bad, Anne, but tired. Are you sleeping OK?"
Anne shrugged. They looked at each other for a moment, then she recovered and said, "Nice tan."
"Thanks. The weather was great. I was ready for a break. It's too bad-" too bad you didn't come with me.
"It must have been a shock to the system to go from the Winter Olympics to summer beach blanket bingo." Anne frowned, imagining Richard wandering along the beach, picking up one woman after another. "Do people get weather lag, like jet lag? I don't know whether to offer you tea or a pina colada?"
"Tea would be nice, thanks."
Anne rang for the maid and ordered tea. She and Richard sat in wing chairs flanking the fireplace. She stared at the empty fireplace and Richard stared at her. He broke the uncomfortable silence.
"I brought you a souvenir from Miami." He held out a bright pink shopping bag.
She accepted the bag. "You didn't have to do that. Thank you."
Richard grinned, "Look at it before you thank me."
Before Anne could reach into the bag, the maid arrived with the tea tray. Anne poured tea for both of them, and offered Richard some cookies.
He munched on a lemon cookie and said, "So, aren't you going to see what I brought?"
"Oh, yes." Anne picked up the bag and looked at it thoughtfully. It wasn't like Richard to fuss with a pretty gift bag. She wondered if that girl who had taken his picture had helped him with his souvenir shopping, too.
Anne reached into the bag and pulled out the T-shirt. She shook it to unfold it. Her eyebrows shot up and she looked over the top of the shirt at Richard.
"Do you really think I wear an Extra Large?" She imagined Richard telling that dog-walking Bridget person that he had this really fat cousin in New York...
"I bought it big on purpose. I knew you wouldn't wear it as a shirt, but I thought if it was loose, you might wear it as a nightshirt, or over a swimsuit or something. I picked out the silliest one I could find."
"You succeeded there, I think. It certainly is silly.'
"I thought you could torture your mother with it if you went out on the boat this summer. And there's something else."
Anne looked into the bag and shook her head.
"Oh, here, they fell on the floor." Richard slid out of his chair and knelt on the floor. He picked up the earrings and held out his hand.
He smiled up at Anne as she took the earrings from him. She shook them and watched the palm trees wiggle. She looked down at Richard, and her heart ached at the sight of him kneeling before her. If only he were offering something more than a joke gift! If only he thought of her as more than just a joke.
Richard suddenly became aware of the awkward position he was in, and quickly returned to his chair.
Recovering, he asked, "So, are they tacky enough?"
"Tourist kitsch at its best."
"The guide recommended this shop, and..."
Anne stopped listening. The guide was probably that woman.
"Annie? Hello?"
"Sorry. My mind wandered."
"Are you sure you're all right?"
No. "Yes, I'm fine. I've just been struggling with an idea for a painting. The sketches won't come out right."
"I'd love to see it."
"NO!"
"OK, OK. Don't get hyper. Why won't you let anyone see your studio, Anne?"
"You know why. It's personal. It's the only thing that's mine."
"Nobody is trying to take it away from you. I'd just like to see your work."
She shook her head. "No. I, um, don't want to be rude, but..."
"But you want to get back to your painting. I know." Richard stood up. "I have things I need to get done. I just wanted to drop off your present."
Anne stood and walked with him to the foyer.
Richard picked up his coat from the chair where he'd left it. "I can see myself out." Impulsively, he reached out and caressed her cheek. "Try to get some more sleep, Anne. You seem, I don't know...limp. This isn't the Annie I know and-well, I've got to be going. Bye, Annie."
Anne stared at the door for a full minute after he left. "Bye, Richie," she whispered. Then she gathered up her presents and returned to her studio. She ripped a half-finished sketch off the pad and started over. This time the sketch captured exactly what she had in mind.
Lizzy reached into her tote bag and pulled out a small plastic bag. She smiled at the doorman.
"Hi Carlton! This is for you." She handed him the bag, which contained a chocolate covered strawberry. "I made them myself!"
"Thank you, miss." He pushed the button on the penthouse elevator and smiled. This woman certainly was unusual. Most guests to the building paid minimal attention to the doorman.
When the elevator doors opened, Lizzy saw Darcy standing there. Carlton must have had orders to phone upstairs as soon as she got on the elevator. She smiled.
"Well, hello! Have you been standing there waiting for me ever since I called?"
Darcy nodded and did his best to look pathetic. "I told you I was pining for you. And you said you'd find a way to cheer me up."
"So I did. But perhaps we should go inside first?" She raised an eyebrow suggestively.
Darcy took Lizzy's coat and led her into the living room. She turned to him and smiled.
"I have a treat for you.'
His heart raced as his mind ran through a list of treats that he would love to have. "What is it?"
"Sit down and I'll show you." They sat on the sofa. Lizzy set down the tote bag and leaned toward Darcy and kissed him.
"Mmm, that's a nice treat."
"I have something else."
He groaned, "You're driving me crazy, you know."
Lizzy reached into the bag and pulled out a container. She peeled off the lid, "Voila!"
"Lizzy! Did you do these yourself?"
"Yes, I did! Try one!"
"Oh, no, we're not eating these out of Tupperware. You stay here and I'll be right back." He kissed her quickly and left the room, taking the container with him. Lizzy stared at the flames of the gas fireplace and wondered what he was up to.
In a manner of minutes, Darcy returned, carrying a silver tray. On it were two champagne flutes, a chilled bottle of champagne, and the strawberries, now arranged on a china plate.
Lizzy smiled, "You just happened to have all of this ready?"
"We always keep a bottle on ice. And the tray and glasses were amazingly at hand. Did Mrs. R know you were bringing these?"
Lizzy blushed, "Yes, I had to call her for help last night, and I promised to bring them if they turned out all right. I hope you left some for her and for Georgie. Where is Georgie, by the way?"
"In her room studying and talking on the phone. Chris or Kitty. She has called each at least once today."
"So things are getting back to normal?"
"Yes. But I don't want to discuss my sister's love life just now."
"Ah."
"No, I want to sample these luscious strawberries."
"Allow me," said Lizzy, as she picked up a strawberry and held it in front of him. He opened his mouth and bit the fruit off the stem. Lizzy dropped the cap of the strawberry on the tray.
"Mmmm," said Darcy through a mouthful of fruit.
"Oops, you have some juice on your chin." Lizzy reached up to wipe it away with her fingertip, then changed her mind. She leaned forward and playfully licked the drop of juice off his chin.
He swallowed suddenly. "Lizzy!" he breathed, "I'm not sure what I like better. The strawberry was delicious, but you..." his voice trailed off as he looked into her eyes.
They spent the next hour snuggled together on the sofa, gazing at the fire and feeding each other strawberries and sips of champagne. As much as Darcy loved his sister, he was beginning to wish she were at Kitty's, or somewhere with Chris, or on the moon, or...
Lizzy looked up at him when she heard him sigh.
"My goodness, what a sigh!"
"Just wishing Georgie weren't home."
Lizzy rested her head against his chest, "I know."
Darcy kissed the top of her head and tightened his embrace. Did she mean what he hoped she meant? Was she expecting him to ask? Why was he so afraid to ask? That was the one question he could answer. There would be so much riding on that one request...
His musings were interrupted by the doorbell. They both sat up, and moved about a foot apart. Realizing how guilty that action looked, they laughed, and Lizzy slid over next to Darcy. They found a comfortable, but not too intimate, position just as Richard walked in.
"Hi! I hope I'm not interrupting any-Oh! Champagne. I must be interrupting something. What are you celebrating?"
"Lizzy's very first batch of chocolate-covered strawberries."
"Where are they?"
Darcy grinned at his cousin, "Too late! We ate them all."
Richard pouted.
"No, we saved some for dessert. Can you join us for dinner?"
"Are you sure? I don't want to be in the way."
"No, no, Georgie is here, so she'll be in the way," said Darcy, with a wry smile at Lizzy. "What brings you here for the second time in one day, Richard?
"It's Anne. I took her souvenir over today-I bought her this wonderfully tacky flamingo T-shirt, you know, just for fun. Anyhow, she looks as if she isn't sleeping well."
"She seemed fine when I saw her the other day," remarked Lizzy.
"Maybe she hadn't checked her email yet," added Darcy.
"Huh?" asked Richard. "What did her email have to do with it?"
"She was probably ticked off at you." replied Darcy. "Really, Richard, why did you send that email to Anne?"
"I didn't send ... oh, maybe I did click on her name. But why would that upset her?"
Darcy and Lizzy exchanged a quick glance. Darcy spoke, "Because she thinks your pick-up-the-first-girl-you-see behavior is, um, inappropriate." Because she's jealous, you moron!
"I think it's something else. She always gives me hell about stuff, but she doesn't lose sleep over it."
Caroline Bingley frowned at the heap of clothing on her bed. Nothing was quite right. She picked up the peach-colored dress and held it in front of her. No, it had sleeves, and they would interfere with the long white gloves. No, she needed something more dramatic. There was a long, rust-brown dress she had bought but not found an occasion for. Maybe that one...
She stood in front of the mirror. The dress was a good fit, but it was long. She would need very high heels, or else have to take it to the cleaner's for alterations. Bending over the rack of shoes, she realized that she had nothing the right shade to go with the dress. She stood up and tugged at the strapless dress, which had begun to slip. Hmm, better not...
The rust-brown dress was added to the heap on the bed. Caroline savagely pushed coat hangers back and forth as she considered the dresses that were still in the closet. She spied an orange dress, and was about to reach for the hanger, but pulled her hand back. No, he's seen me in that one. Oh, well, I can try Saks tomorrow.
Mrs. Reynolds's roast chicken was a success, as always. Richard stayed for dinner, and Georgie came out of her room to join them. The foursome chatted about a variety of subjects. Lizzy told Richard and Georgie about Caroline Bingley's antics.
"Ooh!" spat Georgie. "She is too much! Remember the afternoon she tried to get herself invited for dinner, Will? Pushy, pushy, pushy!"
"Ah, the tangerine buffoon. Buffette?" laughed Richard. "That woman is definitely obnoxious. You know, I think she was one of the few women that I didn't manage to find under the mistletoe at the Christmas party."
"You didn't get Dr. Lucas," said Georgie.
"No, but I think that's because you warned her, you little traitor."
Don't let Will remember that Richard kissed me, was Lizzy's silent prayer.
"Did you get Anne?" asked Georgie innocently.
"Not with Aunt Catherine looking on!" answered Richard, but his blush told the others that he was lying.
After dessert, which consisted of Lizzy's strawberries and Mrs. Reynolds's light-as-air vanilla cookies, Richard made his excuses and Georgie returned to her books.
"Well, that leaves us," smiled Darcy.
"No, that leaves you, I'm afraid," said Lizzy. "I have to get up early. Tomorrow is a work day. And didn't you say that you had a tough day scheduled, too?"
"I'm the boss, I won't get in trouble if I fall asleep at a meeting," he whispered as he wrapped his arms around her.
"I'm not the boss where I work," Lizzy sighed. But she slipped her arms around his neck, despite her resolve to go.
"I could fix that. I could get the Foundation to endow a chair, the way they do at universities."
"So, what, I'd be Professor Bennet?"
"No, the chair would be a throne and your position would be Queen of the Museum."
"And would you be one of my loyal knights, then?"
Darcy knelt in front of her and kissed the hem of her dress. "Always. I promise loyalty, service, and plenty of highly polished armor!"
"Ah, Sir William of Darcy. Will you take me home on your valiant steed?"
"Oh, my queen, must I?"
"Questioning my commands already, Sir William? And what of your promise of service? I see I cannot depend on you, but must instead use the services of Sir Taxi."
"No, no, my queen, I shall escort you home." Darcy took her outstretched hand and kissed it. Lizzy took his hand and pulled him up.
"Loyal service shall be rewarded." She stood on tiptoe and kissed him.
"OOOOOH-Oklahoma, where the wind comes sweepin-" Darcy and Lizzy jumped apart and turned toward the source of the interruption.
"You said to sing," shrugged Georgie.
Lizzy leaned against Darcy's chest and laughed, "You did tell her to, you know."
"Hmph! I believe I said 'sing,' not 'bellow!'"
Darcy helped Lizzy into her coat and picked up his jacket. They stood arm in arm in the foyer, waiting for the elevator.
"That's all your doing, you know, Lizzy."
"What is?"
"That sassy creature who used to be my mouse-timid little sister."
"I'm not the one who told her to sing, Will."
"I'm not the one who taught her to willfully misinterpret instructions. But I have to admit, I like the Georgie who has emerged over the past few months. She reminds me of someone. I wish I could figure out who..."
The doors opened and Lizzy stepped into elevator, she turned to Will and crooked her finger, "Get in the elevator, Will."
As had become their practice, they spent the ride down to the parking level in a most agreeable silence.
Anne stood in front of the mirror, admiring her reflection. She sighed and shook her head as the huge flamingo looked back at her through cool-looking shades.
She had wanted to hit Richard over the head with his gift, which she still suspected was selected by that dog-walking streetwalker. Anne knew Richard couldn't pass a pretty girl without, at the very least, noticing her. But Anne did wish he wouldn't include her in the list of people to whom he bragged about it. She really, really wanted to be mad at him. She did, really she did.
Anne looked at the flamingo and shook her head again. No matter how hard she tried, she could not stay mad at Richard.
Clueless Richard, who thought it was harmless fun to tease his cousin. He didn't mean to hurt Anne. She did believe that. Underneath the teasing, Richard was a good-hearted man, decent and honest. If he knew-but of course, he didn't. And she didn't know how to tell him.
Anne started to pull the shirt over her head, when she noticed something that hadn't caught her attention before. The shirt must have been packed with his clothing. It smelled lightly of his cologne. Holding the shirt up to her nose, Anne crossed the room and got into bed. She snuggled under the covers and pulled on the shirt so that the neckband was across the bridge of her nose, and fell asleep.
Posted on Thursday, 21 March 2002
March 4
"Lizzy?"
"Hi, Georgie. Thank you so much for coming in on short notice. There must be some kind of bug going around. Several of my short-notice volunteers weren't available."
"I know, several people were missing from my class this morning. So, what do you have for me?"
"It's a high-school group. I know, I know, you prefer the younger kids. But this is a city school, here for a short visit to see the biodiversity hall. Now, you know that area backwards and forwards. The teachers will be there, so you're there to answer questions, not handle discipline."
"Lizzy!" whined Georgie. "The last time I did a high-school group, several of the boys hit on me."
"Here, try this." Lizzy removed a ring and handed it to Georgie. "Wear this on your left hand."
"It looks like an engagement ring."
"I know. It's my birthstone. I don't wear that ring a lot, but it goes with this blue sweater, so I put it on this morning. I know, it's blue, but the solitaire setting causes people to mistake it for an engagement ring. That's why I never wear it on my left hand. I did one time, at a party, and this gorgeous guy took one look at it and left. I didn't realize that it was the ring until someone else asked why my fiancé wasn't with me."
"Are you sure it's OK for me to borrow it?"
"It's no problem. Anyhow, it's fake. My aunt used to sell Avon, and when they first had jewelry she used to buy lots of pieces as samples, and then give them to us girls."
Georgie slipped the ring on. "Oh, it's too loose."
Lizzy handed her a roll of tape. "Here, wrap some tape around the back."
While she resized the ring, Georgie looked at the blue stone. "What stone is this, Lizzy?"
"It's supposed to be an aquamarine."
"I thought they were more, um, turquoise colored."
"That's what most people think, but actually, they come in a range of shades from almost colorless to medium blue."
Georgie tried on the ring again and shook her hand gently. "That's better. I don't think I'll lose it now."
"Great. Well, good luck with those boys. Oh, introduce yourself as Miss Darcy."
"What if one of them asks my first name?"
"Say it's 'Miss!'" laughed Lizzy, amused that Georgie had forgotten that volunteer name tags bore both first and last names.
"I'm home!" cried Georgie.
Mrs. Reynolds looked out through the kitchen door and smiled, "Hello, dear, did you have a good day?"
"Mostly. I did a high-school tour this afternoon. I really like the little kids better, but Lizzy was stuck for a guide."
Georgie dropped her books in her room and walked into the kitchen. She poured herself a glass of water and sat down at the table. She and the housekeeper were chatting about Georgie's schedule for the week when Darcy arrived.
"Mmm, smells good in here. Hello, Mrs. R. Hi, Sweetie." He kissed Georgie on the top of her head.
He turned to get himself something to drink, then froze. Slowly he turned back to his sister. He pointed to her finger, "What's that?"
Georgie gasped, "Oh, no! I forgot to give it back! It's Lizzy's. She lent it to me so that I would appear to be engaged. It helped me fend off high-school boys on the tour today."
"It looks like an engagement ring, but it's blue."
"It's an aquamarine, her birthstone."
"Oh, I see."
"I better call her." Georgie picked up the cordless phone and punched in Lizzy's number.
While she waited for an answer, Mrs. Reynolds said softly, "Isn't aquamarine for March?"
"Lizzy! Hi! Listen, I just realized I still have your ring ...Yes, it did ... I wanted you to know that I didn't lose it. Will or I could run it over ... Are you sure?... OK, I'll give it to him to keep...Say, isn't aquamarine March? I had a friend in Boston whose birthday was in March...The sixteenth, what's yours?...Oh, so that makes you, um, Aries, right?... uh-huh ... fire sign, right, I should have guessed. Will's Leo, I think that's a fire sign, too...Well, some fires are just banked more deeply than others ... I know ... Yeah, bye, Lizzy."
Georgie took off the ring. She smiled and hummed to herself as she started to peel off the tape.
"Well?"
"Well, what?
Darcy frowned, "You know what! When is her birthday?"
"Oh, that."
"Yes that!"
"Maybe I know and maybe I don't." She grinned at her brother, "OK, OK! I don't know exactly, she just said at the end of the month. But she did say she's an Aries, so that would make it after the twentieth. So, are we planning something?"
"We'll see. What about the ring? I could take it over to her for you."
"She said she could wait until she sees you later this week." Georgie held out the ring, "It isn't valuable, but maybe you should hang onto it anyway. Your room is neater than mine."
"They cost HOW MUCH?" cried Caroline.
"These are good seats, and the opera is not cheap, Caroline, especially when you want tickets at the last minute. I tried several agents before I found one who had what you wanted."
"Oh."
"You should know what opera tickets cost, if you're such a fan."
"Fan, shman. I don't care about some silly opera. I wanted something posh. You can't get more highbrow than the opera. Except maybe Shakespeare, but they only do that in the summer."
Louisa stared at her sister. For someone who was always hovering on the edge of high society, Caroline hadn't leaned very much about "highbrow" entertainments. She shook her head and sighed.
"Caro, I hate to tell you, but Shakespeare is not limited to the theater in the park. There actually are productions indoors in the winter."
"Oh, well, it doesn't matter. The opera is so much more elite, don't you think?"
"I suppose so, although I never cared for it. I have to get home and fix dinner. Show me your new dress and then I have to be going."
March 5
"Anyway, we've been talking a lot, and I think we'll be OK eventually. I know what I did damaged the relationship. But we're fixing it."
Charlotte nodded, "That's good Georgie. Just remember that you have to be patient. He's going to have some doubts for a while. Try not to fly off the handle. If something upsets you, tell him, don't run away."
"I know. He has told me that several times. And writing the letters helped so much! That was a great idea."
"I have to admit, I don't usually counsel couples. But I talked to Dr. Madison and he suggested the letter technique.'
"How is he? I forgot to ask after him last week."
Charlotte smiled. He's fantastic. "He is well, and asked to be remembered to you."
"That's good. So what's my assignment for this week?"
"Keep writing in your journal, and when you react to events around you, stop and think about someone else who is with you and try to imagine what that person is thinking. It needn't always be Chris. In fact, it shouldn't be. The object is not to teach you to mimic his feelings and responses, but to be sensitive to them."
"I understand." Georgie had been in therapy long enough to have developed a sense of time. She could feel when the "hour" was approaching an end. She gathered her purse and briefcase and stood up. "See you next week, Dr. Lucas."
The jeweler studied the ring through his loupe. He turned the ring this way and that, appreciating how the light refracted and reflected in the stone.
"Very nice," he murmured. "An excellent quality stone. See the flashes of blue?"
Darcy took the ring and the magnifying glass the jeweler held out. He turned the ring under the light, and sure enough, he could see the flashes of blue in what had appeared at first to be a colorless stone.
The jeweler smiled, "The setting is interesting, too. It's white gold. It's called a basket setting, very popular in the twenties."
"What about the size?"
"They're nearly the same size. I wouldn't resize this until I could see it on the lady's finger. You see, that solitaire is a small stone in a higher setting. This one is wider and lower, which affects the fit. The wider the ring, the larger it needs to be."
"I think I understand."
"I'll just clean it and check to make sure the setting is tight, although it certainly appears to be. But it's always good to check. You can pick it up at the end of the week."
"Thank you. I'll see you then."
Caroline stood in the antiques shop, admiring the mahogany chest of drawers.
"Eighteenth Century, English-made."
"Yes, it's lovely. I think I might have a client who would want this. What are you asking for it, Dennis?"
Dennis' blue eyes twinkled, "For you, dear Caroline, I'm sure I can come up with a good price. There should be a tag in one of the drawers, ah, yes, here it is."
They bargained back and forth good-naturedly. Caroline visited Dennis's shop whenever she could for two reasons. First, he always had an outstanding collection of English antique furniture, from Queen Anne through Regency. Second, he was an inveterate gossip, who kept her up to date on the comings and goings of their society clientele.
Dennis was tall, fiftyish, and had managed to keep what he called his boyish figure. His hair was no longer naturally blond, but even so, he was attractive. Caroline had never been interested in him, just as he had never been interested in her-or in any woman. But they had become friends, at least to each other's faces. Caroline had no scruples about repeating any and all gossip he told her, even things he told her "in strictest confidence." He, however, knew this. And he had no scruples about gossiping about her behind her back.
Dennis had found particular amusement in the rumors and counter rumors earlier that winter. He knew that Caroline had been trying to spread rumors about herself and a certain millionaire, and that someone else was circulating stories that Caroline was delusional. He had teased her mercilessly about her phantom boyfriend, and she couldn't wait to trounce him on that score.
"Oh, by the way, Dennis, I have a date with Will Darcy this week. We're going to the opera."
"Really? When?"
"The Met, Friday night.'
"Well, that is a coincidence. I have tickets for Friday. I had no idea you were a fan of opera."
"Oh, my, yes. Music is an essential element of every polished society."
They compared notes on where they would be sitting and discovered that they would probably see each other there. Caroline was so pleased that she wrote him a check for the full price of the mahogany chest, forgetting the price she had bargained for.
March 6
Lizzy and Darcy were finishing their after-dinner coffee when he suddenly remembered Lizzy's ring. He patted his pockets.
"Looking for something?"
"Your ring, Georgie gave it to me to give back to you." He pulled the ring from his pocket and slipped it on her finger. I wish...
Lizzy looked down at it. "I lent it to her as a way to keep the high-school boys at bay. It does look like an engagement ring." I wish...
Mrs. Reynolds appeared in the living room, "Excuse me, Mr. Darcy. Miss Bingley is on the line for you. She said it's something that can't wait-something to do with your date for the opera."
"The opera? I have no idea what this is about. Thank you, Mrs. R. I'll take the call in my study." He stood and held out his hand. "Lizzy? Curious?" Lizzy nodded and accompanied him to the study.
Darcy pushed the speakerphone button.
"Hello, Miss Bingley.'
"Oh, Mr. Darcy, I'm so glad she put me through. Your housekeeper is rather officious about screening your calls. You should have a word with her."
"Indeed, I shall." He grinned at Lizzy and made a thumbs-up gesture. Lizzy had to stuff her fist in her mouth to stop from laughing aloud.
"The reason I called is that I have tickets to the opera at the Met for Friday's performance. I was going to go with a friend, but she's taken ill, and won't be well enough by then."
Darcy had to choke back a laugh as Lizzy mouthed "What friend?" His smile broadened as an idea struck him.
"Miss Bingley, how kind of you to think of me. Georgie loves the opera, and she was just the other day saying how much she wanted to see something this season. I didn't think any tickets were still available, so you've just made me a hero in my sister's eyes."
"Oh, but-"
Darcy continued before Caroline could say any more, "And aren't you kind to give up your opera tickets so that you can spend time with your sick friend. My, what a good friend you are! I'll pay you for the tickets, of course."
"Oh, but-"
"No, no, I insist. I absolutely must pay you for them. This is such a wonderful surprise. I do hope your friend will feel better soon." By now, tears were streaming down Lizzy's face, and Darcy kept making "shh" gestures at her. He paused to give Caroline a chance to say something.
"Oh, um, ah..."
"You know, Miss Bingley, now that I think of it..."
"Yes?" The breathless reply was brighter than her other bits of conversation."
"If you give me the name and address of your friend, I'd like to send her flowers. Poor thing, being sick and having to give up the opera on top of that. I'm sure she's feeling quite desolate."
"Oh, no, you don't have to, um..."
"If you're sure. Well, let's see, how shall I get the tickets from you? Why don't you take them to your office, and-"
"I could meet you for lunch."
"Oh, my schedule is packed solid tomorrow and Friday. I'll send one of our messengers over to your office to pick them up on Friday. If you can tell me the price now, I'll send a check over with the messenger."
"Oh, I don't have them right at hand."
"Well, be sure to let me know so that I can pay you. Thank you so much, Miss Bingley. I do hope your friend feels better soon."
He hit the button on the speakerphone and collapsed next to Lizzy on the sofa.
"I know who her friend is," giggled Lizzy, "I'll just bet it's that darlin' southern belle, Peggy Lou!"
"Oh, I forgot to ask what opera it is."
"Does Georgie have any favorites?"
"Not that I know of."
"But you said-"
"I am not wasting Met tickets on my little sister. I have someone much better in mind." He kissed Lizzy and said, "I need to call Anne."
"Anne?" Lizzy looked disappointed.
"Yes. I have to tell Anne about-" he broke off when he saw Lizzy's expression. "Oh, sorry, I didn't ask you yet. You will come with me Friday, won't you?"
"Yes, I'd love to, but what about Anne?"
"You'll see," he smiled as he dialed his cousin's number. "We're not finished messing with Caroline yet! Hey, this revenge stuff can be fun. Who knew?"
March 7
As Lizzy and Jane relaxed over their start-the-day office coffee, Lizzy entertained her sister with the story of Caroline and the opera.
"Anne has been kind of down, according to Richard. So Will was hoping to cheer her up with the opera story."
"Operas don't generally have cheery stories. Doesn't someone always die of TB?"
"Consumption, Jane. They call it consumption. And no, they don't always die. There are funny operas, like 'The Barber of Seville.' But the story Will wanted to tell Anne isn't an opera story. Wait until you hear what happened last night."
Jane and Lizzy were both laughing uncontrollably by the time Lizzy reached the end of the story.
Wiping her eyes, Lizzy gasped, "Really, Jane, if you could have heard how baffled she was when she realized he expected both tickets. He told her he would be taking Georgie, but he's taking me. And we figured out a way that it can get back to Caroline."
"How?"
"Anne. She has no love of Caroline, just on general principles. So Will called Anne to see if she could get one of her mother's gossipy friends to tell Caroline. Anne says she has a list of her mother's friends who go to the opera, and one of them would surely be willing to call Caroline. Ha! That'll make steam come out her ears!"
Posted on Thursday, 21 March 2002
March 8
"Here's the address. He's to pick up the flowers and add this note. Then the arrangement and the note go to this address, and he collects the tickets and brings them back, along with the corsage. Got it?"
"Yes, Mr. Darcy."
He smiled, "Thank you."
After his assistant left, Darcy reached for the telephone.
"Lizzy Bennet!" said the sharp voice.
"Whoa, whatever it is, I plead not guilty!"
"Will! Sorry, I'm just rushing to get things done so that I can cut out early and get ready for tonight."
"You don't have to fuss, Lizzy. It isn't formal."
"But it's the Metropolitan Opera House!"
"This isn't a gala. You don't need a gown and a tiara."
"Oh, shucks, and I just took my tiara out and polished it this morning. I guess it just has to go back into the safe with the rest of the crown jewels."
"I'll have to find a truly regal occasion so that you can wear your tiara."
"I really do have one."
"A tiara?"
"Uh-huh. It's just glass, of course. It's from a Halloween costume many years ago. I was a princess."
"From a princess to Indiana Jones. I don't think there's any comment I can make that won't get me into trouble, so I'll pass on that. Actually, I called to tell you my addition to the Caroline scenario."
"What?"
"I improvised!" he said proudly. "I'm having the messenger deliver flowers when he picks up the tickets."
"I don't think that's so brilliant, Will. Sending her flowers will only encourage her."
"No, wait until you hear. The flowers aren't for Caroline. They're for her friend."
"Will, the friend is imaginary."
"I know that."
"So Caroline ends up with flowers from you."
He laughed, "I know."
"What part of 'dumb move' don't you understand? She'll sit there with her flowers from you, feeling all warm and fuzzy about how you care."
"About how I care for her friend, you mean. I ordered one of those perky "get well" arrangements in a cute mug. And I added a note saying that she should take them to her friend tonight. If she sees that as a lover's gift, then she's truly delusional."
"Oh, I take it all back. That IS brilliant! When the flowers come, she can't leave them out on view in the office because everyone will ask who is sick. Ooh, torture. Anne would approve! Well done, Mr. Darcy!"
"See you tonight, Miss Bennet!"
"So? Do I pass inspection?"
"Turn around," commanded Georgie. Darcy turned around.
Georgie brushed off a spec of lint, grabbed her brother's shoulders and turned him to face her. She straightened his tie and smiled, "Very nice."
"Thank you." They walked to the foyer together. He glanced at his watch. "I'm early. The car won't be here yet."
"Relax, Will." Georgie noticed the box on the table near the door. "Flowers? A corsage? Oh, Will, that's so old-fashioned."
"Do you think she won't like it?"
"No, it's sweet. I hope you got something imaginative."
"Meaning?"
"Not an orchid. That's so, I don't know-Mother's Day. Oh, Camellias! Just like Paul Henried gives to Bette Davis in that movie. He's the only one who ever gives them to her, it's like their little secret, you know? Oh, and in one scene, she pins it to her purse, which is very elegant."
Mystified, Darcy shook his head.
"William Darcy, you have got to get up to speed on chick flicks. Women like it when men know these movie references."
"I don't see why I have to know chick flick references. Women never know references to the Godfather."
"Hey, that's a reference to a chick flick! Tom Hanks tells Meg-"
"No more about chick flicks, I beg of you!"
"So, what did you get?"
"Oddly enough, I considered camellias, because "La Traviata" is based on Camille. But then I realized that giving camellias to your date to Traviata is almost as bad as throwing a purse full of coins at her."
"Huh? Oh, right, right. I remember. They guy's father throws the money at her to say that he thinks she's a ho."
"Georgiana!"
"Modern retelling?"
"Hmph! I think I need to take you to the opera again, young lady! Modern retelling, indeed!"
"There, Lizzy! Perfect." Jane held a mirror behind Lizzy.
Lizzy admired the back of her head. "Thanks for doing my hair, Jane. I could never have done that myself. The only thing I can do on my own is a French braid. The way you pulled the curls out of the French twist is wonderful." She paused. "Are you sure about the dress?"
"Yes, it's perfect. You can never go wrong with the little black dress."
"I guess. But it's kind of bare." Lizzy twisted to look at the low back of the dress.
"Here," said Jane, holding out a piece of sheer black cloth. "Use this as a wrap."
"It's a pareo!"
"So, nobody has to know that! It's beautiful, wear your gold seashell earrings and it will be perfect. Come on, he'll be here any minute."
They walked out to the living room. Lizzy did a quick inventory of her purse, "Lipstick, hanky, a little cash...Oh! a few extra pins for my hair." She ran back into her bedroom. As she picked up the hairpins, a gold object caught her eye. Smiling, she picked up her wasp and pinned it to her dress.
The door buzzer and the telephone rang simultaneously.
"That'll be Charles!" said Jane as she ran into her room.
Lizzy pressed the buzzer.
"Ready?"
"Yes I am." Lizzy buzzed Darcy in and opened the door. She smiled as he watched him walk toward her. Mmm, great walk.
"Oh, you are ready!" he said, noticing that she had her coat on. He continued nervously, "Um, I brought you these."
Lizzy took the box and smiled. She removed the lid and raised the box to her nose. "Oh, tiny rosebuds, how lovely. Thank you, Will." She removed the corsage from the box, and wondered what would be the best place to pin it. On the coat? No, they'd check their coats. But under the coat it would be squished.
"Can I help you with that?"
"No, I can manage." She picked up her silk evening bag. "See?" Feeling very inventive, she pinned the flowers to the bag.
Darcy stared in amazement.
"What?" Lizzy suddenly felt foolish, as if her clever idea was some sort of high society no-no."
"Just like Georgie said!"
"I don't understand."
"Georgie said, like Bette Davis getting flowers from, um, what's-his-name."
"Those were camellias, Will, not roses."
Shaking his head, he led her out of the apartment. "Is there some sort of course that women take?"
"About what?"
"All these movie references. It's like some sort of code you all talk in."
She giggled, "All the better to confuse you with, my dear!"
Inside the restaurant, Will helped Lizzy remove her coat. The sight of the back of her neck bared by the upswept hairdo and the low-backed dress made him catch his breath. She turned to see what was wrong.
"You look stunning tonight, Lizzy. Very elegant, befitting a night at the opera."
"Thank you. I wanted to live up to the occasion."
"Mmm, you definitely succeeded, madam."
Lizzy slipped the pareo around her shoulders. It was sheer black fabric, printed with seashells in gold. They followed the headwaiter to their table.
"What a lovely, um, shawl. Is that what it's called? It's very pretty." Darcy asked. He saw Lizzy blush. "Did I say something wrong?"
"No! Not at all, it's just that, um, promise not to laugh?"
"Promise."
"It's just a pareo, a beach wrap. I bought it on vacation in one of the islands. It's nothing special. I probably paid all of ten dollars for it."
"Nothing special? I beg to differ," he said as they sat down and accepted menus. "Not many women could buy something for ten dollars and look like a million bucks in it."
They ordered dinner and Darcy ordered a bottle of wine. They sipped the wine and chatted about their days. The waiter arrived with their entrees just as they were laughing over possible scenarios of Caroline's evening.
"Between mouthfuls, Lizzy giggled, "Wouldn't it be funny if she just showed up and tried to wangle her way in? Get you to send Georgie home?
"Even Caroline Bingley isn't that pushy. Besides, then she'd have to admit that there was no sick friend, or allow me to believe that she's mean enough to leave a sick friend and run off to the opera. No, Lizzy, poor Miss Bingley is in a no-win situation."
"And I love it!" Lizzy raised her glass in a toast, "To Caroline!" They clinked glasses and laughed.
They declined dessert, and Darcy asked for the check.
"We can go for dessert after the opera, if you'd like."
"That would be nice. I'm too full from dinner to appreciate dessert anyhow."
While the waiter was putting through the charge on Darcy's platinum credit card, he reached for his cell phone.
"I'd better call for the car now, so he can be outside when we're ready to go."
Lizzy reached out and put her hand on Darcy's arm. "Don't call the driver. It's just two blocks."
"Are you sure? It's cold."
"We'll just have to stick close together for warmth!"
"Then I'll let him know he's off the hook until we leave the Met."
After he completed his call and signed the bill, Darcy held Lizzy's chair as she stood up. She picked up her purse, and noticed a couple looking at her.
Darcy laughed, "She's envious because you're so beautiful."
Lizzy held her purse up to her face and inhaled the scent of the roses. "No, she's envious because he didn't give her flowers!"
Once out on the sidewalk, Lizzy slipped her arm through Darcy's.
"Cold?"
"I'm OK." She snuggled closer and sighed, "Did I tell you? La Traviata was the first opera I ever saw. It was the Met's school program, where they did matinees for school kids. I was so excited! The teacher prepped us for the trip, which just built up the anticipation even more. He played some of the arias and gave us an idea of the plot."
"That's excellent. Too many people go to the opera without any idea of the story, and they lose the story, which makes them miss some of the music."
"He wanted us to appreciate the opera, and I must say it worked. It was funny, though."
"What was?"
"You'd have to know our music teacher. There he was, this conservative music teacher, with a bunch of fourteen-year-old girls in the classroom. And he was trying to find a way to explain the scene where the father throws the money at her."
Darcy chuckled, "You should hear my sister's description of that scene. I doubt your teacher called Violetta a 'ho.'"
Lizzy laughed, "Oh, I wish you hadn't told me that. Now I'm going to giggle at a very dramatic moment!"
The usher showed them to their seats in the second tier, third row.
"Not bad at all. I wonder how Miss Bingley swung these?" mused Darcy.
"She probably tried for orchestra or a box first." Lizzy pointed to a box in the Dress Circle. "See those box seats?"
"Yes."
"I got to sit there on my very first visit. The student matinee tickets were probably given out randomly, and we lucked out on box seats. The next year we had seats up in the nosebleed section.
"Anyhow, there we were, kids from the 'burbs, feeling very sophisticated. Going to the Metropolitan Opera House at Lincoln Center! Oh, my! Then we sat down in our box, and the lights were in our line of sight." She giggled, "If you could have heard us, a bunch of teenage know-it-alls, badmouthing the designer of the auditorium for putting light fixtures in everyone's way. Then, of course, you know what happened."
Darcy laughed, "The lights dimmed and were pulled up into the ceiling?"
Lizzy nodded and laughed. "Did we ever feel foolish!"
Lizzy leaned on the railing and looked down on the crowd milling around the foyer. A few patrons were outside in the plaza. Lizzy smiled as she realized that they all appeared to be using the intermission to take a cigarette break. She held her purse up to her face and inhaled the aroma of the roses. Much nicer than the smell of smoke.
Darcy turned away from the bar and threaded his way through the crowd. He stopped for a moment to savor the view of Lizzy gazing out through the huge windows that made up the façade of the opera house. He watched her hold up her purse and smell the roses. He reached her side and bowed to her.
"Your champagne, madam."
"Thank you, sir." She sipped the wine and smiled up at him, "Mmm, lovely. You seem quite fond of champagne."
"I am. It makes an occasion more festive, and it seems to transcend the rules about red and white. It's an all-rounder. You can drink it with anything, and anywhere." He held up his glass, "To you."
She returned the toast, "And you."
A voice from behind them asked, "Excuse me, aren't you William Darcy?"
Darcy turned to look at the speaker. The tall, blonde man was smiling appraisingly. Darcy tried not to look uncomfortable as he replied, "Yes, I am."
"Well, this is certainly interesting. Caroline said I might see you here. But where is she? Oh, do forgive my manners. I'm Dennis Parker, a business associate of Caroline Bingley. She told me that she would be accompanying you to the opera this evening." Dennis turned to Lizzy, "But you aren't Caroline."
"A fact for which I am truly grateful. I'm Lizzy Bennet." Lizzy held out her hand. Instead of shaking it, Dennis raised it to his lips. Standing behind him, Darcy raised his eyebrows at Lizzy.
"Delighted to meet you, Lizzy Bennet." Dennis whispered conspiratorially, "And how well do you know Caroline? Did she send you in her place?"
Lizzy almost choked on her champagne.
"Ah, so she didn't send you. Do tell me the details. I know that Caroline never will."
"It's quite simple, Mr. Parker," replied Darcy. "Miss Bingley and a friend were supposed to attend tonight, and the friend became ill. So Miss Bingley suggested that I take her tickets."
"Ah, how kind of her." The smirk on Dennis's face made it clear that he was knew the truth. "I must remember to call on Caroline next week and tell her how proud I am of her unselfishness."
The lights dimmed, indicating that it was time to return to their seats.
"Mr. Parker," Darcy began, "Do you by any chance know my cousin Anne deBourgh?"
"I know the family name, of course, but I've never done business with them. I believe Mrs. deBourgh is more interested in French baroque than Georgian. Well, I must get back to my seat. I don't want to miss the next act!"
As Darcy and Lizzy settled into their seats, he whispered, "Wasn't that a coincidence. If Anne had sent him as her 'contact' she couldn't have made a better choice."
The opera ended to thundering applause. Darcy stopped applauding long enough to reach into his pocket and pull out a handkerchief for Lizzy. She smiled at him as she dabbed at her tears.
"Sorry," she whispered.
"It's quite all right," he whispered back.
The audience filed out, and Darcy led Lizzy to a bench in the foyer.
"Why don't you sit here while I get our coats."
"The line is so long, why don't we sit here together and wait a bit?"
"Good idea, it will be a madhouse for cars outside, too. You don't mind waiting?"
"Not as long as I have company."
"William Darcy?" This time the strange voice was female. "I thought that was you!"
Darcy stood and turned to the elegantly dressed white-haired woman. He recognized her vaguely, but couldn't remember her name.
"Hello. Won't you sit down?" He offered her his seat on the bench.
The woman turned to Lizzy, "Hello, dear, you must be Elizabeth. I'm Elsa Smythe, and we have a mutual friend."
Darcy smiled down at her. "And that would be my cousin, Anne?"
"Yes, aren't you clever! Anne said that you would be here tonight, and that I should mention it if I saw that horrible decorator person. As it turns out, I probably will, since I'm lunching with Millie Forth, and she is having her living room redone." Mrs. Smythe finally paused to take a breath. "Anne promises me that the reaction this news will have is going to be worth the trouble of telling it. So my dear, did you enjoy the performance?"
"Oh, yes, I liked it even better than the Pirates of Penzance."
Mrs. Smythe giggled, "Oh, yes, don't you just love it when Julia Roberts says that?"
Darcy looked mystified. Lizzy mouthed "chick flick" and he nodded.
"Come Elsa, time to go." A distinguished-looking gentleman approached. He was carrying a mink coat, which he held out, signaling his wife to stand and let him help her into it. Brief introductions were made, followed by goodnights.
Darcy watched the couple walk away and turned to Lizzy. "You all do it."
"Do what, Will?"
"The chick flick thing. What was that about Pirates of Penzance?"
"It's from 'Pretty Woman.' After they see Traviata, well, it's a long story. Actually, Mrs. Smythe had it wrong. It's actually Richard Gere who-"
Darcy held up his hand. "Please don't explain. Clearly, I have had an inadequate education. Could we go for dessert now?"