Previous Section, Section II
Chapter 10
Less than a minute later, Bing walked into the room, where Darcien had returned to perusing the score he'd been reading. From what he'd seen of Bella, there was a great disparity in the reactions the two had had of the most recent meetings. Obviously, as usual, Darcien had inadvertently-or stupidly, one of the two-said or done something to upset someone. Bing used to think he did it to spite people, or perhaps he enjoyed it. But after two and a half years of watching him, Bing was sure he simply didn't know any better. Went to show, no matter how brilliant a mind he was, there was a small deficiency in everyone. But, Bing had to admit, no matter what, he could always rely on his best friend to be there when he needed someone. That had come to show time and time again.
He scrutinized the top of the head peering down at the score, hands grasping each other at the nape of his neck, lengthy black curls hanging down, nearly touching the score.
"Lose another pair of glasses?"
Darcien looked up, startled. "Bing, I didn't hear you come in. And I keep telling you, I do not need to wear glasses of any sort, not for reading, not for playing, not for anything."
"Well if you keep reading like that you'll either break your neck or develop horrible posture at the bench, neither of which I am sure you'd like-though its possible you'd like the latter less than the former, for some reason." He walked over to the table, pulled the book from under Darcien's elbows, and read the title on the library spine. "'Cosi Fan Tutte.' Indeed," he set the book upon one of the shelves lining the walls, in the space it appeared to go into. "Women are like that. But what inspired you to go perusing through that particular opera? Personal experience?" Right after speaking, Bing wished he could take the whole thought back. He hadn't meant to say it. He really hadn't. He could tell by the wounded look those golden eyes produced beneath a dark, furrowed brow. He sat in the armchair across the table from his best friend. "Oh, dear, old boy, I didn't mean to send you back to a harmful subject. I was merely speaking of Bella-she was just in here and it looked like-"
"Already forgiven, my friend. I just can't seem to go through a simple day without thinking of what happened with her. And now with her and Isabella, it's just too much." He combed his fingers through his hair yet again. "I'm better now. Shall we go?"
Bing stood, willing his friend to remain seated. "About that..."
Darcien understood that kind of look and already didn't particularly like what he was about to hear. "Bing ... what have you done now?" He said his manager's name as though it had multiple syllables. When this was done, Bing knew he was in trouble.
"I ah..." grabbing at his collar, he pulled it away from his suddenly warm neck. "I invited Jeannie to go to dinner with us this evening, and to bring Bella along if she saw fit to."
Darcien couldn't believe it. Two weeks in a row he'd been duped into this, and two weeks in a row he'd been humiliated in front of hundreds of people by Isabella Barrett. At least last week he'd had the chance to cool off and look at her in some sort of good light. She did seem kind of nice. But this time, the wound had barely begun to scab, let alone heal. This woman would be the end of him!
He stirred his coke with his straw, watching the ice move in a circular pattern around the glass. He refused to watch for them. The ladies-ladies, hah!-could find them easily when they walked through the door. Once the thought had finished zooming through his head Darcien wanted to remove it. Isabella might be annoying, but she was still a lady. Jeannie was even more so-she had that pleasant mixture of beauty, talent, passion and charm that made the perfect lady. She liked Bing, which gave her a few more points in his book. He wondered, though, if Bing was really serious about her. He was not the sort to have a girl in every port, but he wasn't one known for extended monogamous relationships, either. And what about Jeannie? Was she a permanent type of person or did she like who she liked when she wanted? All these conflicting thoughts were beginning to make his head reel. Just as he leaned forward, elbow on table, fingers at each temple, he saw a familiar pattern moving towards him.
Looking up, he found it to be the tartan pattern of Bella's skirt. He'd seen it earlier but had barely registered it to be on her. There hadn't been much registering in his mind at that time besides the fact that she'd put him on the spot in front of three hundred of her peers and had made no move or effort to apologize for it. As he moved his eyes up her skirt, past the forest green sweater that matched the green field of her skirt and to her face, she appeared more annoyed with him that she should be. Indeed, she has no right to be annoyed with me! But I have every right to be annoyed with her! He stood as the ladies approached, and sat as they sat, returning to the spinning of his straw as Bing greeted them warmly. Without so much as a 'hi' as a greeting, he nodded to the pair as they all sat around the table.
Bella couldn't believe it. Here he was, not a care in the world-did he have the same expression when he'd given her that insulting smile before she'd had enough? No, he seemed more indifferent, now than anything else, she determined after taking a look at him. Well, she thought, it seems like I'm beginning to make out his character now, he's not so much of a mystery any more, just an ... stop that thought right there ... be nice for Jeannie ... be nice for Jeannie ... be nice for Jeannie. With her new mantra repeating in her brain, she cooled her anger and asked for a diet coke from the looming waiter, anxious to please his attractive charges. Which attractive charges, though, only he knows.
As he scuffled off, Bella was happily annoyed to find that Jeannie and Bing were completely entranced with each other. Bella wouldn't have tried to place herself into their conversation even if she thought she would be noticed by either side. It appeared that she had to rely, yet again, on the golden-eyed dimwit to be entertained. She did have the choice of merely remaining silent and staring at empty space, then focusing on her food-once the silly waiter comes back so we can order-that's something we can discuss, food.
Trying to begin a cordial conversation that would make Jeannie proud, she picked up her menu and, eyeing Darcien over it, asked him in her sweetest voice possible, "So, what are you thinking of having?" At his startled look, she continued. "I was thinking of chicken kabobs, myself, and maybe a carrot meze. Do you like carrot meze? I'm willing to share, you can never go Turkish without carrot meze." Realizing she'd used the same two words three times in a single breath, Bella stopped. His look had shifted three or four times during her little babble, from startled, to amused, to annoyed, back to amused. She was confused, more than anything else. What right has he to be amused with me? What did I say that was so funny?
Seeing that she was done, he decided to speak. In his friendliest tone, he replied, "I was thinking more of spiced lamb, myself. But I'll give that carrot stuff a try." He'd been genuinely amused by his dinner companion's advocation of a dish. There were those he'd seen simply trying to show him that they were knowledgeable in "culture" but it seemed like Bella was just trying to defend-causelessly-a dish that she loved. He began to see her as a different kind of woman from the ones he was used to-intelligent, unaffected, and passionate. He knew there was absolutely no possibility of there being a relationship with her, but he couldn't help but admire her in the least bit, even if she was consorting with the enemy. Maybe that's not the right phrase to use about her knowing Carla. From what I know, that's all it is, an acquaintance.
The group ordered when the waiter came back, and minutes later he returned with two baskets of bread and two meze platters-one that was a sampler of all the cold mezes offered, and the other a plateful of carrot meze. Darcien eyed what had been placed before them with suspicion, as it looked more like orange slush than anything else. The carrots had been shredded and mixed in some kind of liquid compound. He watched as Bella grabbed a large piece of pita and dipped it into the orange compound, coming back up with a large pile of carrots on top. After unceremoniously eating it, she looked at him. This time it was she who was amused, for the look on his face was priceless.
"Oh, come on, Darce, you said you'd try some." She smirked, daring him to give in.
Never one to back down from a challenge, and still reeling from her using such a familiar nickname, he picked up the biggest piece of pita he could find and put as much carrot gunk on it as he possibly could. Staring her right in the eye, he took a large bite out of it and began to chew. The surprise on his face as he tasted the yummy goodness caused Bella to produce a look of proud triumph. The pair beside them, watching the exchange, laughed and returned to their own meze platter.
When it was all gone (and Bella made account that Darcien had eaten more than she did when it was time to pay) the group took to talking about plans for the rest of the year.
"So what are you ladies doing for Christmas?"
Jeannie, who saw that Bella was still nibbling on a piece of pita, spoke for the pair.
"Oh, well, my mom and I are going to visit some family in Boston, but then we're going with Luke, Bella and Ben to visit Luke and Bella's grandparents on their reservation."
Darcien had heard so many names that it was more than confusing. He vaguely remembered a Luke being mentioned when Bing had been in raptures about the gala last week. Someone's cousin? Brother? Maybe he was Bella's brother? No, must have been cousin, they didn't look enough alike. But neither did Bella and Jeannie. But she'd said that she and her mother were visiting family in Boston. What wasn't Bella going? Who was Ben? He was so confused. There was another matter that he felt the slightest bit more comfortable asking about.
"Begging your pardon, but, what's a reservation?"
Bella couldn't believe her ears. Feeling insult for something she was particularly adamant about, though some might call her misled and biased, she began, letting centuries of familial scorn run free.
"It's kind of like a wildlife preserve," she began, bitterly, "except instead of the beasts fending for themselves and being put on display for the tourists, it's the Navajo, the Sioux, the Apache, the Cherokee. It's where people living in sub-standard conditions force their way through working, while being looked upon as nothing but gamblers and raindancers. It's a place where people who once were spread up, down and across this country were forced to crowd into tiny plots of land far from their homes, or die. Or both. It's where the indigenous are 'allowed' to be indigenous when it was their right to be so long before the colonials got here. It's a reserve for a dying group. Robbed of their homes, their language, their culture, which they've only recently been "allowed" to get back. I mean sure, times are changing, they even get their own schools now unlike when my mother was there and all they were "allowed" to use to teach their children of their heritage was a pow wow every now and then for the tourists, but really, how much does that change? They do what they must." Darcien nearly jumped when her hand hit the table. "That's what a reservation is, British Boy, and don't you forget it." Taking a deep breath, Bella realized that not only had she been raving, but she'd attracted the attention of everyone around her. She also hadn't stopped to take a breath since she had begun her little spiel. She felt kind of sorry for Darcien, knowing that when someone got on the wrong side of her scorn they felt it badly. But he'd hit a really sensitive point, and she could never let that down. She only just noticed that the blood was roaring in her skull. Grabbing her forehead, she leaned in a bit, willing the throbbing down. Even if it was a sensitive mark, she didn't usually get this worked up about anything, let alone this.
Someplace in the distance, she heard Jeannie's voice. "You'll have to forgive Bella," she said to the two stunned faces. "She gets a little carried away sometimes." Bing nodded, finally closing his mouth. He knew the girl worked up a temper sometimes (the waterglass at the gala had been an example of that) but she had been almost frightening to her just now.
Darcien, on the other hand, had gradually lost awareness of everything but her as he watched her speak. It was as if she had been transformed. He had never seen anything so beautiful in his life. The way her hazel eyes flashed in passion and anger, the air and aura around her. Before, he'd called her different. Indeed, she was different. Beautifully so. There was still something about the shape of her face, the length of her nose, the width of her mouth. But that had made her all the more beautiful. Okay, so she's cute. What has that got to do with anything? She's rude, presumptuous, callous, basically, she's an American. What you need to do is go home, deal with all the other problems you have, and forget about women of all shapes and sizes. You and women don't mix. You've seen that. So deal with your business here, and begone.
He mused on this thought for awhile, until he heard Jeannie speaking to them again.
"When are you two leaving town to go back across the pond?"
He smiled. Bella inwardly groaned as once again she witnessed the drastic change between demeanors in no time flat. This was getting annoying. "Yes, Darcien, when are you planning your escape?"
Turning from Jeannie to Bella, he saw her once again with new eyes. Something about her now captivated him, and he didn't know where it came from. It took him a few seconds to formulate a response, though he could usually respond to such a question almost immediately. Swallowing a lump forming in his throat, he turned to Jeannie to respond. "We haven't made any final decisions yet, but it will probably be before the winter holidays. I've got some things to take care of back at home before Christmas is over. Though Bing is free to remain as long as he wishes." That last he felt he'd added for the ladies' benefit more than Bing's. This way, they knew that it wasn't he who controlled Bing but Bing who did. Before anyone else had the chance to say anything else, the main course was brought and set in front of everyone.
Bella sneered at the rare meat on her dinner companion's plate. She had nothing against people eating red meat, but every time she thought of lamb, she thought of all the nursery rhymes and children's tales that dealt with sheep and lamb, and couldn't help seeing the little piece of meat screaming "baa ram u!"* every time she saw one. Shaking her head to clear her mind from these thoughts, she focused all her energy on finding a graceful way to eat chicken kabobs. Succeeding with the first piece, she continued till she was finished.
The group discussed a number of things as they ate, with Bing and Jeannie being the main ones to hold up conversation. The other two unknowingly shared the same task of analyzing the pair's relationship. Both had appeared to have fallen hard, and now they didn't mind at all being wrapped up into their own little world. Darcien had some slight apprehensions about this, but was sure that if Bing were happy he could maintain a long term relationship if she was willing. Bella was simply pleased that her sister was now happy.
"Isabella, it's good to hear from you. Have you come to a decision?" Bella sat there, phone in hand, completely mute. She'd called Lady Carla to tell her that she'd needed a bit more time, and that her sister wanted to meet her, but she'd completely frozen.
"Isabella, are you there?"
Swallowing, Bella finally brought herself to speak. "Yes, Lady Carla, I'm here."
"Please," the low voice said. "Call me Carla. What have you decided?"
"Well," she began, "I've decided that I'd like to give it a try, but for now it's just a trial. My sister-my stepsister, Jeannie, would also like to meet you. It's not that she doesn't trust you or anything, she's just really protective of me and would like to know what I'm getting into and-"
"Isabella, my dear," she said, trying to stop the girl's rambling, "that's fine. I would love to meet your stepsister. I'm sure we'll have plenty to discuss. It's always good to see an older sibling who cares so much about their younger one. Some people I've seen completely disregard such innocence and abuse it to their own purposes."
Bella was slightly taken aback by the sudden change in subject. "I'm not sure what you mean, Lady Carla."
The Lady laughed, a bit bitterly, if Bella heard correctly. "I'm speaking of a man I once loved, who didn't show his true colors until it was too late. His younger sister, who had barely been ten years old, had been scarred for life from his treatment of her. I was quite fond of the girl, though she couldn't speak, but the way he treated her was worse than abominable. Some passed it off as his age, but what seventeen year old boy, really, could physically and mentally abuse his ten year old sister without there being something terribly wrong with him?" Seeming to catch herself, Carla continued in a calmer, cooler tone. "But why am I talking your ear off about Darcien? You don't know him like I know him, if at all. I trust after that evening you never saw him again." Before Bella had the opportunity to respond, the Lady continued. "So when will you be able to meet, you and your sister? Call me anytime and we can set up dinner or something."
"Actually, Lady Carla," she said quickly, "it would probably be better for Jeannie if it were lunch, as she pretty much has dinner plans for the next two weeks."
The Lady agreed, and the pair decided that a late lunch at the same little café they'd met at before would be a good place to meet that Sunday, which wouldn't be too difficult to get to after Jeannie's meeting. Once they said their goodbyes, Bella called Jeannie to make sure she could make it. The two went over weekend schedules and by some miracle Jeannie didn't have a meeting to go to that week. Lunch was agreed upon and the two went about their regular Saturday business, Bella doing homework and Jeannie at rehearsal, and later going out with Bing. Luke and Bella would be going to a show later tonight, but the time now was for homework.
Unfortunately as much as she could try, Bella could not concentrate. All she could see in front of her was the image of Darcien Wills damaging a smaller, female version of himself. She could see her trying to cry out in pain and fear, but was unable to do so because of the inability to speak. Over and over again this image played itself out before her eyes, until the anguish became too much and she broke down in tears at her desk. That poor, poor dear little girl. Pushing her keyboard out of the way and allowing the tears to run until they wouldn't run any more, Bella's annoyance and distrust of Darcien became something more.
It became hatred.
Chapter 11
While Bella and Luke were enjoying the sounds of Aida on the great white way, Jeannie and Bing were sharing a conversation that neither of them wished to. It seemed that Darcien had run out of gigs to work while in New York, and presently the best thing to do was to return home to Manchester, as they'd been putting it off for long enough. He hated to leave her, but he was afraid he had to.
They were sitting on Jeannie's couch, taking the opportunity to stay in on a night when Bella wasn't expected for some time. It would probably have been nicer at Bing's suite, but Darcien was there. The leather sofas in the living room were quite uncomfortable too.
"Come with us, Jeannie." He'd been trying to think of a solution for their continued relationship being destroyed by a large body of water.
She would have loved to, but her life was here. She couldn't just up and leave it at a moment's notice, no matter how meaningful this relationship was to her. When she'd said as much to Bing, he couldn't seem to see reason. Why couldn't she leave if she loved him? Obviously she didn't.
"What do you mean I don't love you? I've never felt this way about anyone in my life! I never fell so hard, so fast, for anyone before I met you. Why would you believe I didn't love you?"
"You've never kissed me." The expression on his face was so candid that she couldn't help but smile. They'd been dating for three weeks and she hadn't gotten up the nerve to initiate anything more intimate than a kiss on the cheek. She'd always expected him to take the initiative, because he was so much more outward-and obviously more forward-than she was. It didn't mean she hadn't wanted to kiss him.
"And you've never kissed me. Does that mean you don't love me?"
He scoffed. "Of course not, love. I just ... I guess I'm merely being paranoid. It's not everyday you find the love of your life who happens to live thousands of miles from you, separated by an ocean."
Jeannie had wanted to respond, but was unable, due to a lump caught in her throat. The love of his life? We've only known each other three weeks.
But you said it so yourself, Jean. You'd never fallen so hard so fast before. Is it such a surprise that you two are of like minds?
Quite possibly, yes. He's a man.
Not all men go and break your heart, Jean.
How do I know that? How do I know that he isn't just putting on a show to gain another notch in the bedpost? How do I know this is real?
Don't worry. You'll know. You know already.
After holding such a conversation with herself, she brought herself to turn and look into Bing's eyes, inches from her own. His arm was around her, and she had been leaning against his chest. She now had her chin on her chest, and was looking up into his eyes, looking down into hers. She could see all the sincerity in his eyes that had come with his words. At that moment she knew all was right. They loved each other, whole heartedly, and this would work. This had to work. Leaning back, she pushed herself up so that she was sitting on her calves, her position putting her more at eye level with him on the couch. Urging him to turn and sit up, she slowly and deliberately wrapped her arms around his shoulders, drawing them upwards until they were clasped around his neck. Leaning in towards him, she touched his lips with hers ever so lightly. After the first contact, however, he saw no problem with pulling her closer until they were in the tightest of embraces and kissed her deeply. They remained tangled on the couch until, unable to breathe, Jeannie broke away. Once she'd gained her breath again, she smiled delightedly, brilliantly, showing all the love she had for him in her expression and in her eyes. This was right.
Realizing that it had been many minutes since either had spoken, she began again. "Have faith in us, Bing, and nothing can stop us or our love for each other. No person, no job, no ocean. Nothing. I'll always be here for you, love, but I can't leave, not only for my sake, but for Bella's. She'd have no place to go, no one to go to, if I left."
He shifted her into something similar to their previous position on the couch, this time having both arms around her shoulders and most of her torso leaning against his chest. "I wish I could come up with some type of solution to that as well, but I know how much she depends on you."
"She tries to prove her independence time and again, but I don't know what would happen to her if she were left alone here. Our parents are comfortable, but I don't think even if it were possible for her to do so that they could dish out the extra thousands for her to move back onto campus. Then of course there's my contract with the Phil. I don't know what would happen if I tried to break it, I'm the leader of my section. I would have to at least set up interviews to find myself a replacement." To her ears it sounded like she was making excuses. But she knew there was no way to help it. She had commitments and duties to attend to here. She couldn't just pack her duds and go like some people were prone to do.
The rest of the evening was spent eating Chinese and deliberating the easiest ways to maintain contact during Bing's time in England and how to go about seeing each other in person from time to time. It all seemed hopeless that they would be able to continue the cordial, companionable relationship they'd established, seeing each other once a day at least, and both hoped the old saying was correct. Because if Bing's absence didn't make either of their hearts somehow grow fonder than it already was, then she was afraid it would do the opposite.
And she didn't think she could handle that.
The next afternoon found Jeannie and Bella sitting at a table at the window-not the same Bella had occupied before, but one near to it-awaiting Lady Carla. Just as Bella was growing impatient and ready to head in to work, the Lady in question arrived in yet another of her dazzling numbers-low cut silk blouse the same steel as her eyes, knee length black silk skirt, full length black jacquard greatcoat and knee high black leather boots with matching handbag. She definitely outdressed either of the sisters, Jeannie in black slacks and a soft blue cashmere sweater and Bella in the khakis and blazer that she was wearing to work afterwards.
Sitting, she extended her hand to the unknown member of the party after flashing a smile at Bella. "You are the lovely Jean of whom I've heard so much. It's a pleasure to meet you at last."
Jeannie smilingly took her hand, a little anxious. The subject of Lady Carla had come up well into last night after Bella had come home and gone straight to her room. Jeannie had asked Bing what he knew about her, and he'd stated that he wished he could tell her about Carla, but it wasn't his business to tell, only that she couldn't be trusted. If there was someone the smiling Bing couldn't trust, there really must be something wrong. Absolutely wrong.
She couldn't make anything out of her countenance that she was untrustworthy, so Jeannie decided to give her the benefit of the doubt.
After ordering lunch, Lady Carla saw no need of dillydallying and the trio got right down to business.
"Ladies, If you would like, I would not mind discussing the particulars of Isabella's situation if she were to agree to work for me. For the first bit of time, it would be a job sort of like an assistant, but as she learns the ropes she would have more things to do on her own. I travel quite a bit, and when I am gone I would need someone to run my affairs here, and while I am here I would need someone elsewhere."
At this Jeannie interjected a question she'd been harboring for quite some time. "Lady Carla, if you don't mind my asking, why don't you want someone who already has a degree to run your ... I'm sorry, I'm not quite sure what it is that you do."
"My dear Jean, I am a Lady. I sponsor the arts and their continuation. Isabella would not be running anything like a company, but she would meet with patrons and other clientele of mine while I am absent, and I shall introduce her to society while I am here. For a student who is aspiring to work in the arts, I should say this would be an ideal arrangement."
Bella didn't know what to say. Indeed, she'd heard it all before, in her first conversation with Lady Carla. But then she hadn't thought of all that this job entailed. What about her other duties?
Lady Carla, seeming to be able to read her mind, turned to Bella. "Of course, Isabella, I have already told you that the last thing I wanted to do was take you away from your schoolwork, because that would not help me at all." Turning to Jeannie, she leaned both elbows onto the table and put her weight onto them. "I do want you to understand that this is a quid pro quo arrangement, Dear Jean. All introductions and other patronage made by myself that amount to anything will be repaid for in full by acknowledgement of my role in making it thus. Of course there is also the assistant's duties. Isabella will receive a weekly stipend and any extra monetary assistance that might be needed, in the case of an opening, or a concert, anything of the sort. No one under my care is seen in the same outfit more than once when in society." She looked at Bella's forest green corduroy blazer and black square lined top, then looked down under the table at boot cut khakis and docs. "I guess your taste isn't quite so bad, though you dress like a teenager."
"I am a teenager."
"Ah, my dear, but not for very long. Elegance is the key. Sophistication. You have the spark, but not the appearance. I suppose there are a few items in your wardrobe that would suit my purposes, from what I saw at the gala, but we'll have to change a few things. Do you always wear your hair pulled back? I don't think I've seen it down before. How does it look?"
Bella was beginning to get anxious with all this examination of her person. "Lady Carla, would you mind postponing the makeover until after we've eaten? I've got to go to work in a bit."
Acquiescing, they agreed that Bella would come by Carla's penthouse sometime in the next few days and they would discuss the things Bella needed to be Carla's apprentice, in a way. After eating, she said her goodbyes, hoping they would be able to meet for lunch again sometime.
The pair was nearing their own apartment, discussing the details of Carla's offer and the Lady herself when Jeannie suddenly stopped, paralyzed. Bella, who had been telling her sister about her take on what she'd seen of the Lady's fabulous wardrobe was so engrossed in her raptures that she didn't notice the lone figure sitting on the front stoop of their apartment house. When she felt that she wasn't being listened to anymore, she stopped wondering if the Lady would present her with a coat like her own and looked at Jeannie. Her sister was ungracefully standing, in the middle of the sidewalk, staring with gaping eyes and jaw wide open. She looked down and saw Jeannie's left hand clenching and unclenching. Turning to see what it was that had made Jeannie act so out of character, she stopped her own mouth from hanging agape by saying the first thing that came into her head.
"What the hell are you doing here?"
Carla was confused. Her gossips had told her that Isabella Barrett had been seen around Manhattan with Darcien quite a few times, yet the girl had expressed no feeling when the subject was brought up, except that one night, where the two had just met. Why were they seeing each other? Why wasn't she angry or at least surprised at what Carla had told her? What was going on?
Calming down, she took a few deep breaths and picked up her tiny cell phone. Opening it, she pressed her number four speed dial to make a phone call to one of her biggest gossips, who happened to be a concierge at Darcien's hotel.
"Oui, Messieur Lashailles, how are you this evening? Eh, bien. This is Lady Carla Whitman. Yes, I was wondering if you could find out anything for me about my dear Darcien Wills and his friend, Bing Charlesby, who are staying in your hotel. Oh, leaving? When? My dear Honore, why didn't you tell me? Well, I can deal with that later. But first, tell me, has Monsieur Wills been entertaining anyone in his suite? Non? Wait, slow down, Honore, who has the other one been entertaining? Describe her since you don't know her name." While she'd been speaking with Honore Lashailles she'd been making mindless doodles on the monogrammed note paper that was always on her desk by the phone. When he'd given her the description, she was immediately thinking and taking the notes down. Red hair. Tall. Beautiful. Green Eyes. Conservative dresser. All of these sounded very familiar to Carla, and she suddenly remembered that she'd seen Jeannie before, when she and Bing were attached to the hip at the gala. It was all suddenly much clearer now. Jeannie and Bing were dating, wishing their companions to get closer, and it had all started out with that glass of water that ended up in his face.
Well, if she wasn't going to have Darcien, then no one would, no matter how much work they put into it, and it appeared the best way to get Isabella away from him was to separate the two whose idea it was in the first place that the two should be together. She hated to do it, because she liked Jeannie, but her feelings towards Darcien's solitude were more powerful than her slight affection for the girl.
After she'd finished talking to Honore, she had him forward her call up to the gentlemen's room, where he'd said only Bing would be. This would be perfect. With no Darcien there to persuade him otherwise, she could do what she could to destroy any thoughts of such a connection.
When she heard an answering salutation at the other end of the line, she spoke in a stiff, smoky voice that would be familiar to her telephone companion.
"Hello, dear Bing, my darling boy."
Bing would not believe it. He couldn't. The woman was a menace, a thief, and every other word of the sort. She couldn't possibly know things about Jeannie that he didn't, least of all what her personal life was like.
Though she did speak of her as though she knew her. How does she know her? Are the two working together to break me? Or is she working for Carla to get me to do things or say things that I might regret that might get back to Carla which could break us both? Are she and Bella working together to bring us down? Why would she do something like that? My dear sweet Jeannie and her darling sister are not the malicious type. No, Carla must be lying. She has to be. She hasn't said a true word in her life and I don't expect her to start now.
He was pacing back and forth in front of the balcony doors, sporadically running his fingers through his hair. There had to be a way to prove Carla wrong. But why prove her wrong if he knew she was lying purposefully, and knew there was no proof of her accusation? Bing didn't know what to do. Could he continue on with Jeannie, always wondering if she was stringing him along? Could he just up and leave her out of the blue without a word? What was he going to do?
I need Darce.
No matter what happened to Bing, he always knew that Darcien would be around to help him through crises. There was no problem he had, no scrape he'd been in that his best bud couldn't get him out of, even when they were kids and Darcien was eight going on ninety. He really needed to talk to him now.
What would he say? What would he suggest? How would he handle it?
Only one way to find out.
Chapter 12
Darcien sat, bored out of his mind, wondering why he'd agreed to let Bing make all of his performance arrangements for him-who cared if he was his manager. Her he was, in Washington, DC, awaiting the meeting with his ensemble at the Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts. Why was it named after John F. Kennedy, anyway? Sitting out in the grand foyer, staring at the most disgusting rendition of the former president's head, which was also huge, Darcien didn't understand. Weren't arts centers usually named after either someone who was an artist or at least was a patron of the arts? All he knew about this character was that he was a president of this vast, annoying country and had been shot. Whoopdey-doo.
He was still contemplating the horrendous bust of Kennedy's rather large head when he heard his name.
"Wills, why are you sitting out here? There's plenty of speakers you could sit in on, why for instance-"
"Oh like what, Bing? Some old fart speaking on the Grandeur of Monteverdi or something like that? I know this is a conference on Baroque Music and I really do enjoy playing Bach, but could you give me something less-"
Bing was wondering first what Darcien was going to say and second why he stopped when he saw that his friend was looking down at the nearest stage at one end of the grand foyer. Turning fully around to see what it was that Darcien was staring at, Bing saw none other than the young Miss Isabella Barret standing on the stage in a black pantsuit, waiting for the group seated at the stage to quiet down. He was about to say something to Darcien when he noticed that he was no longer standing beside him. Doing a three sixty, he realized either his friend had disappeared and would resurface soon enough, or his eyesight had become incredibly bad and he would have to get it fixed. No, he thought. That couldn't be it. He turned around and began to walk away when she began to speak. She's got a very nice voice, he decided. I wonder if she'd ever be interested in a career as a classical singer. One musician in the family is never enough.
With this thought he was reminded of the painful memory of his last sight of Jeannie. So Carla had been right all along. Well, he'd been fooled indeed. She never loved me. All he could do was forget.
All through the reading of her paper on Monteverdi's L'Orfeo, Bella felt that someone was watching her. It was a strange idea, she knew, considering there were two hundred people watching her, but this feeling she had would not go away. When her half hour was completed she walked off the stage, thinking she'd seen someone familiar as she walked down the grand foyer. But when she turned around to make a double take he was gone. Continuing down, she made a quick stop at the performers' and presenters' reception room to grab her stuff and a drink and made her way out of the Kennedy center and down the short sidewalk to the Watergate Hotel.
She'd been surprised that she was being put up in this particular hotel, as the remainder of the group, unless they had found their own accommodations, was being put up in a less affluent hotel further uptown. She was not complaining, though. She was sure Lady Carla had something to do with this.
Over the past three months, Lady Carla had been grooming her to be something she wasn't sure she wanted to be. The sponsorship part was more than she could dream of, and it was wonderful to have so many people who recognized her talent and wanted to support her, but she was not a socialite and could never be one. As much as Lady Carla had wanted her to be her "protégé," Bella wasn't sure she realized what it entailed when she signed up. It didn't really matter. What was done was done and Bella was on her way to becoming an Accomplished Deb.
When she got to her room, she was surprised to find Luke there, lying on one of the double beds.
"What are you doing in my room?"
Luke, near tears, dramatically sat up and threw himself back down. "Colin threw me out! Could I stay with you for the rest of break?"
The two had traveled down to DC together, Bella to attend the Baroque Conference and Colloquium and Luke to visit his boyfriend Colin at George Washington University, which wasn't far from where Bella was staying. From what Bella had seen when they first arrived, all was going well with the happy couple.
Calmly sitting beside him, she reached for his hand, choosing the tender road instead of the dramatic "I'll kill him for hurting you!" approach. "What happened?"
Luke, tears in his eyes, looked up at her. "Well, it seems the love of my life never loved me at all, and in fact has decided he is no longer "a silly homosexual" and has taken up with your mentor!"
Of all the things she could have heard, this was the most surprising. The most unexpected. Lady Carla was sly and managed to curl contributors around her little finger, but Bella had never heard of her taking someone else's partner away from them for her own amusement-especially when she knew the person whose partner it was. No, she must not have known, or forgotten. She would never do something like that.
Glancing at the clock on top of the wardrobe containing the television, Bella jumped off the bed. "Oh no! I hate to leave you, dear, at a time like this but I really have to go; I'm late for a meeting with the other four members of my ensemble. You could come with me if you want."
He snorted. "And risk crossing paths with that man-stealing hussy? Sorry dear, you're on your own." He smiled. "I'll just lounge about and watch daytime TV. I'm sure someone has a makeover to receive or a long lost fourth cousin thrice removed to meet. I'll be fine."
Giving him one last skeptical look, she grabbed her cello case and walked out.
"Ladies! It's been so long!" Bella greeted her companions as she carried her cello case into the badly lit practice room somewhere in the depths of the Kennedy Center. The three women around her age plucking at their much smaller instruments were gathered around a baby grand piano at the far end of the room, which was large for a practice room.
"Too bad this year's not 'Autobiographical Music,' eh?" she said, once she'd settled in and warmed up. "What say you, we once again try out grand finale of last year's wonderful symposium, just to warm up?" She smiled when the others agreed.
Darcien had entered discreetly while she'd been speaking to the others, and was intrigued to know that she'd performed with the quartet before. This should be interesting, intriguing, amazing. I didn't even know she played.
He found, watching them warm up, that Bella still appealed to him. But there was something different about her appearance. Something had been done to her hair, and the style, though familiar, was something he could not place. She dressed differently, more "chic" than she had before. It came as a surprise to Darcien that he'd even noticed what she looked or dressed like back in New York.
After the four got themselves into tune, Bella suddenly broke into the first soft motive of Shostakovich's eighth string quartet. Watching Bella play, he was amazed at the way her slender hands moved-not so easy for a cellist, but she was doing an amazing job. He was fascinated by the way her body hugged the instrument, the way her bow caressed the strings. She put so much feeling and energy into those four simple notes he thought his heart would burst. He wished he could have been there the first time the quartet had played it, wished he could have felt what she was feeling, what Shostakovich himself was feeling. Instead he got the light and airy music they were about to begin working on...it was going to be a long couple weeks.
This year, the symposium's theme was Music of the Baroque, and the string quartet had discovered that they would be joined by an unnamed pianist to perform a five part rendition of Bach's "The Art of the Fugue."
Bella had been wondering who it could possibly be who could learn this piece in so little time, as they would only have the next two weeks to perfect it before the symposium finale in which the quartet always performed. She was enlightened when, after the final chords of the last movement were sounded the four heard the applause of a single person moving towards them. To her surprise and sudden horror, Darcien Wills came striding over.
Once again, his highness Darcien Wills walks back into my life, to exploit his perfect fingers into nothingness. Would his addition draw down the quality of the performance? Would he even care? He didn't care about anything or anyone else.
She'd been beginning to think of him as at least an ally, if not a friend, back in November. But out of the blue, he and Bing had left, without a word. Jeannie had been so happy, and suddenly things had fallen apart. She was despondent, and would only leave the apartment to go to meetings and work. Bella, now on Lady Carla's payroll, was able to pay for more of the rent, but she worried that it wouldn't be enough were Jeannie to fall further into her funk and end up losing her position with the Phil. Bella was beginning to lose count of the amount of times she'd gone to a concert and heard wrong notes in the woodwinds section-and Jeannie had never been careless that many times before.
She put on her most polite face when he finally got to them, holding out her hands. "Darcien Wills, what an honor to be playing with you this year."
"Miss Barrett, I had no idea, but I'm glad I am."
"We're going to be around each other for quite a while, why don't you call me Bella?" Why did I say that? Now he's going to think that I like him! But I really don't like people calling me 'Miss Barrett' it sounds so bloody old fashioned!
"Only if you call me Darcien," he said with a slight smile.
The clearing of a throat from behind and a nod from the first violinist led Bella to make introductions, and then have to watch, annoyed with the way these women were acting, fawning all over the poor man. He took the introductions with grace and immediately after took his place at the piano.
Pulling a piano score out of a surprisingly youthful looking backpack, Darcien waited, leaving the first violinist to set the pace and give the cue for him to begin.
Well, that didn't go so badly.
The quintet had made incredibly progress in a couple hours of practice and Darcien hadn't been quite the jackass that she'd remembered him to be. She had to admit that as bad as his character was, he was a very good musician. There's something missing, though, still. He's not putting anything into it. Not really. Just his fingers. Silly fingers. But enough of that.
Bella decided it was time to move her thoughts away from Darcien "Bane" Wills and try to figure out how to right this wrong with Luke and Colin. There must be something to do about it. There must be some misunderstanding. The more she thought on it, the more she knew she was right. There was just a silly understanding and pretty soon Luke and Colin would be as happy as clams again. She just had to figure out how to prove that to Luke.
She was going through different ideas while walking through the lobby of her hotel. Looking down and not really paying attention to where she was going, she was constantly running into people's shoulders. Around the twentieth time she'd murmured her apologies, a young sounding British voice murmured his as well. The voice sounded vaguely familiar, but when she looked up there was nothing recognizable in the man.
He was a very nice looking man, tall, with nicely cropped curly dark hair and pale grey eyes. He looked a bit like Darcien, actually, she thought, and then realized she was more than likely stereotyping as she only knew a handful of Brits in the first place. This one was dressed very professionally, in a tailored black suit with a pair of expensive dark sunglasses in the hand that wasn't grabbing her shoulder as he asked if she was alright. His entire aura said bodyguard, but he appeared too young and too clean cut to really be so. Besides, he was British. Whoever heard of a British bodyguard? Okay, this time she'd gone too far. Of course there were British Bodyguards, and this man in front of her might or might not be a bodyguard. She shook her head to rid herself of the battling thoughts, and looked up, trying to decipher what the man was saying.
"Miss? Are you alright? I didn't hurt you, did I?"
She finally understood what the man was saying, and shook her head, saying she was fine. She was trying to get back up to Luke, just to make sure he wasn't doing something melodramatic, like trying to drown himself in her bathtub. That was the last thing she needed now: a gay, scorned, dead best friend. She continued walking, but heard him coming after her again.
"I'm sorry to bother you, but I figured, being a musician and all, you might know my cousin. His name is-"
"Will!"
The impeccably dressed dark haired grey eyed god turned around at the sound of his name, and Bella looked around him, only to see magic fingers himself coming towards the two of them.
"Darce! I was just going to ask this kind young lady if she knew you...of course, I know not all of the musicians in this town know who you are, but I figured I'd take a guess." He turned towards Bella. "She probably thinks I'm crazy and wants to get on with her life." His eyes met hers. "I suppose I can let go of your cello now?"
She nodded, her breath stolen by these two amazingly handsome men standing before her. She hated to admit it, but Darcien Wills was one hot guy, and his-cousin, did he say?-was even cuter. Well, the fact that he was even more groomed than his younger cousin might have something to do with that. And that he was nicer.
"Yes, well, if you'll excuse me, I have to go make sure my cousin isn't trying to kill himself." She turned, yet again, to the elevator when she heard a voice calling to her again-and was surprised to recognize Darcien's.
"Is there something we can help with?"
She turned back to look at him, and hoped her mouth was closed. Had he just offered to help with her melodramatic cousin? No, she must have heard him wrong. Either that or he wanted something.
"Well, if you want, you can find out where Colin de' Barri lives and have him shot."
The two men facing her could not tell from the look on her face whether or not she was serious. "Excuse me?" The nicer, cuter one said.
She put down her Cello. It was getting heavy, and she wasn't sure when she would actually get away from these two. And they appeared worried that she would actually go through with it. She smiled. "Sorry, I didn't really mean that. I don't even know the guy except for his meeting us at the airport. But from what I can gather he decided he wasn't gay and ripped my cousin's heart into shreds. I don't know why I'm even telling you this, but I should probably get back upstairs. Darcien, see you tomorrow, and" she turned to the other, "we didn't actually meet, but I hope to see you around sometime." Bella hoped that didn't sound like a flirt, because however good he looked he was utterly too old for her. She leant to pick up her cello when a hand was extended before her.
"Sorry, name's Will."
She took the protruding hand and shook it, saying "Bella" in a quiet voice before leaning picking up her cello and turning successfully to the elevator.