Section I, Section II, Section III, Section IV, Section V
Chapter 12
Lisa walked in the front door of the apartment with Darcy after a quiet rest of the evening. She turned into the living room to find Bingley asleep in Jane's lap. She looked at her sister, who was positively beaming. "Oh, Jane," she whispered, walking over to her. She bent down to hug her. "God, Jane, I'm going to miss you."
"I'm going to miss you, too, Lisa," she said, laughing. "But I'll visit. You'll visit."
"It won't be the same," protested Lisa, kneeling but not letting go of her. "You have to stay. You just have to stay here with Chuck." Tears rolled down her cheeks.
"Lisa, honey, don't cry," Jane whispered, moving gently off the couch. "Lisa, my baby sister . . . don't cry." Jane patted her back, not having expected this reaction.
"Jane, don't go . . ."
Jane rumpled her brow as she tried to comfort her sister. She gave Darcy a questioning look. Darcy looked down at Lisa, his heart aching as he wanted to be the one to comfort her; to hold her and stroke her hair, kiss her tears away and tell her she wasn't losing her sister. He sat on the couch and shook Bingley's leg to wake him. Bingley opened his eyes and sat up. Seeing Jane rock her sister back and forth, he scooted closer. "Jane, dear, what is the matter?" he whispered in her ear, putting his hands on her shoulders.
"You're taking my sister away from me," sobbed Lisa. "Don't take her away from me." Jane continued to hold her sister until she calmed down. "Oh, God, Jane, I'm so, so sorry," she whispered. She smiled up at her. "You look so happy."
"I am." Jane returned her sister's smile.
"I'm sorry for being so selfish," continued Lisa. "Congratulations, Jane." She kissed her cheek. "Congratulations, Chuck." She reached up to hug Bingley. "Let me go wash my face; I'll be right back." She rose from the floor, hiding her red face from Darcy.
"I better go with her," said Jane, following.
When they had disappeared into the other room, Darcy looked over at Bingley. "Congratulations, Charles," he said with a smile.
"Thank you," he said, beaming. "She agreed to a wedding within a few months."
"You will bring her home to Netherfield?" asked Darcy.
Bingley nodded. "Yes. How did you fare?"
"Not nearly so well."
"Oh?"
"I expected a refusal. My only purpose was to let her know how much I love her, and that I want to marry her. I knew that she would say no, but I did not expect . . . she told me that she does not love me. Her words literally crushed me, Charles, and I felt . . . I felt very humbled."
"But she did not reject you all together, did she? She does have feelings for you; any one can see that."
"But she does not feel for me what I feel for her."
"Well, Fitz, you can't expect everyone to be as impulsive and wild as you."
Darcy smiled at his friend, and for a moment, seemed to lose himself in thought. "I cannot live without her, Charles. One day, she will grace the halls of Pemberley House. I will not rest until that happens."
"Married? Oh, my beautiful Jane is getting married! Oh, Jane, Jane!" Mrs. Bennet had fluttered about her oldest daughter, kissing her cheeks and gushing over the beautiful diamond on her left hand, for about the past half hour. When Lisa decided she could take no more, she excused herself and crawled up the stairs to enjoy the solitude of the warm summer night on the patio.
She leaned on the railing, letting the cool breeze blow through her hair. It was her birthday; she was twenty-one. Jane had spent the morning with her after they met Darcy's sister at the airport. She had given her pencil sketch of Lisa with Pepper, looking out over the Fox River valley, which she matted and framed herself. Her parents, on the other hand, if they had remembered at all, had forgotten the minute Jane announced her engagement. She hadn't heard a word from them on the subject. She wasn't surprised, really. She loved her father dearly, and knew that he loved her, but was not blind to his shortcomings. He frequently ignored Lydia and was very critical of Mary. Her mother, she was sure, had her second daughter's birthday the farthest thing from her mind, with her "beautiful Jane's" wedding now no more than five weeks away. She and Bingley had decided on a date in August that morning with Georgiana, deciding summer would be the best time for the wedding.
She felt a hand on her shoulder and turned. "Fitz."
He stepped toward her slowly. "You seem a little out of sorts. Is something the matter?" he asked.
She gave a half-smile. "No, not really." She turned back to the rail. "Did you see the sketch Jane gave me this morning?"
"Yes, I did," he replied, standing next to her. "Several times."
"You helped her pick it out?" she asked, curious. She had been very busy lately training Cassie, and Bingley, Jane, and Darcy had spent lunches without her.
"Mm. Yes, I daresay, I did," he replied thoughtfully. "But she seems to have missed a part of it."
"What do you mean?" asked Lisa, turning to him again.
"This," he said silently, and his hand brushed hers. She brought her hand up to look at what he had put in it. It was a small piece of paper, actual note paper, used as makeshift wrapping paper for a small object. "Take care not to rip the paper; there is a note written on it."
Lisa smiled, and carefully unfastened the tape that held it together. She gasped as she saw what was inside it, until she recognized it as his mother's ring.
She lifted her eyebrow. "Fitz, I can not take this."
"Read the note," he said, ignoring her, continuing to look out to the Bennet's back yard.
Lisa looked at the blank expression he was giving the pool, and then down at the note.
My dearest, loveliest Elizabeth,Far more than you know you have captured my heart and spoiled me for any other woman. I see this image in my mind each time I wake and each time I lay down to sleep. The image and the soul behind the person in it fill me with warmth and hope, and dreams of laughter and joy. It is my fondest wish that once again I will feel the warm embrace that held me on this very waterfront.
I am selfishly in love with you and will always be so.
Fitzwilliam Darcy
"You had that sketch made?" Her voice was barely audible.
"No, my dear. I made it." He turned to face her. "I made it out of my dreams of you. And you can take that ring; I want you to have it. I understand that you do not feel for me what I feel for you. You must understand that I have no control over my emotions. I love you, and whether or not you ever love me in return, I always will."
"No, you won't," she protested. "You'll eventually give up."
"I will not," he insisted, getting a little angry. Why would she ever think he would stop loving her? Why, when she was so beautiful and kind and compassionate, and so real. She didn't care about his money or his houses, his properties, his cars, his business, or what those things could buy for her. He knew she cared about him; he knew she cared about Fitzwilliam Darcy. "I will never stop loving you. Even if you never love me the way I do you, I want you to have that ring. It is not an engagement ring, but a ring my father gave to my mother on the day of their engagement. It is a family heirloom."
"Then that's all the more reason I shouldn't have it. It should stay in the family."
"The family treats it as a thing symbolic of love. When my father gave it to me, his only instructions were to give it to the woman I loved. Even if I do not marry you, I love you, and I want you to have it."
She closed her eyes. "Fitz, I can't--"
"Yes, you can, and you will," he said, determined, and slipped the ring on her finger.
She looked at her hand. "It is a beautiful ring," she said. "Does Georgiana know I have it?"
Darcy smirked. "Yes."
"Is she upset?"
"Whatever would she be upset for?"
"Because I'm not your wife, and I have this family heirloom of your mother's."
Darcy shook his head. "Georgiana, you will find, is a very trusting young woman when it comes to her brother. She is a great friend to me, and is very intelligent and observant."
She looked up at him, a glimmer in her eye that made him hope for his future with her. "Happy birthday, Elizabeth." He bent his head, and his lips landed on hers in a slow, passionate kiss . . .
Until Katie tore the sliding door open and shouted for them to come in and toast Jane and Charles. Darcy smiled at the eagerness of the young girl and stole another quick peck from his beloved's lips; she smiled shyly as he led her by the hand inside.
Georgiana Darcy smiled at her brother as he walked in with Lisa. He had told her about this woman that morning over their breakfast with Bingley. "She's very beautiful; very unlike any woman I've ever met before," he'd said. Georgiana agreed; she was indeed beautiful. She had liked Lisa from the very start. It was apparent that her brother loved her. He had told her that he was giving their mother's ring to her, and that she would keep it regardless of whether she ever agreed to marry him, if that was okay with her. She had nodded and smiled at her brother, who was virtually aglow with his love. "How could I ever deny you, William?" she asked him. "If this woman is half as smart as you say she is, she will soon see how wonderful you are, and she will not refuse you."
As Mr. Bennet raised his glass in a toast to Jane and Bingley, Georgiana stole a glimpse at her brother, who had his hands on Lisa's shoulders. Lisa reached up and put her hand on his, and she noticed the brilliant ruby sparkle as it caught the light. She smiled at her brother, and knew he had found his love.
Author's Note: This is a subject that is very close to me. When I was fifteen years old, my sixteen year old sister ran away from home because she was pregnant. I have wanted to write about my experience with my sister and nephew for a long time now, and what I have written here and will write in further chapters just barely touches the things my family went through. I don't mean to offend anybody by writing about what may be a controversial issue in some homes, but this comes from my heart, and those of you who have written from your hearts from a real-life experience know that it is both rewarding and gives some comfort to express yourself. Thanks for listening (reading)!!
Chapter 13
"Lisa!"
At the water cooler, she turned her head to see her sister storming toward her. "Lisa, we have to talk," said Jane, her face white and her eyes wide. "Come to my office."
"Jane," she called, walking after her. "Jane, wait!" She had to practically run to try to catch up with her sister.
Turning a corner, Jane literally bumped into Bingley. Bingley started to smile, until he registered the look on her face. "Jane, whatever-"
Jane ignored him and kept running, Lisa hollering after her to slow down. When she saw Bingley in the hallway, she stopped. Her face was flushed, and she was afraid for her sister as she had never seen her so upset. Lisa shoved her finger into Bingley's chest and rumbled, "If that has anything to do with you, I will tear you apart." She continued after Jane.
She finally caught up with Jane in her office, slamming the door behind her. "Jane," she huffed, "what the hell is going on?"
Jane turned from the window, her eyes full of worry and her face still white. "Lydia," she gulped. "It's Lydia."
Lisa walked over to her and put her hand on her shoulder. "Was she in an accident?" she asked.
Jane shook her head furiously. "No, no," she said. "I just got a call from Mary. Mom's freaking out . . . because of Lydia. She's pregnant, Lisa."
Lisa's jaw dropped. "What?"
Jane nodded. "She is, of course, stupid enough to be excited about it."
Lisa sank into a chair, trying to register what her sister had just told her. "Well . . . who . . . whose . . . who is the father?" she managed.
Jane turned to face the window again. "George Wickham."
Lisa sat back in the chair, a thousand thoughts swirling through her head. Lydia was barely sixteen years old, and George was nearly thirty! What was he thinking? What was she thinking? And where in hell did she get the idea that being an unmarried pregnant teenager was exciting? She cleared her throat. "Mom is upset?"
"That's just the thing, Lisa. She's not."
"I thought you said she was freaking out."
"She is. She's just as excited as Lydia."
Lisa slumped forward, her head between her knees and her hands covering her hair. "And Dad?"
"I don't think Dad knows yet."
"Does Geo--" She stopped herself, no longer wanting to be on friendly terms with a thirty-year-old man who had gotten a sixteen-year-old girl in trouble. "Does Mr. Wickham know?"
Jane nodded. "I think he has plans to leave."
Lisa sat up in her chair. "Well, it doesn't matter anyway," she sighed. "Once Dad finds out, he'll have the Marines after him."
"Do you think he'll make him marry her?"
"He can't do that. The most he can do is make him support her. The question is, does Wickham want to?"
"I would guess not," said Jane, lowering herself into a chair. "He was just taking advantage of her."
"Well, he sure as hell got what he wanted," mumbled Lisa bitterly. She looked up at her sister and sighed. "Jane. Dear Jane, with the ability to see good in everyone. Please tell me there is something good about this jerk."
"Right now," said Jane, sighing herself, "I can't see any."
There was a knock at the door. Jane moved to answer it. "Hi," she said quietly. She held the door open and Charles Bingley took a step inside. Jane looked over at her sister, an unspoken question in her eyes. Should I tell him?
"I'll go," said Lisa, rising. She hugged her sister, whispering in her ear, "If you have to, I understand. But let's wait until Dad finds out."
Jane nodded silently. Lisa let go of her and brushed past Bingley. "Supper tonight? I'll boil a chicken, just for you."
Bingley smiled at her, and shifted his eyes to Jane, thinking that it must not be him that was upsetting her, otherwise Lisa would have literally torn him apart, as promised. "May I bring a date?" he asked.
"Mr. Dorky?" she inquired.
Bingley nodded.
"Well . . . I guess so."
He smiled at her. "We shall see you at six."
"I thought you were going to boil a chicken for me," said Bingley, looking over Lisa's shoulder as she stood at the stove.
"Well, I tried," replied Lisa, "but the darn thing just wouldn't get in the pot."
Bingley smiled. "Well, I must say that I'm sorely disappointed. Boiled chicken is my favorite. What have you substituted?"
"It's my personal specialty," she said proudly. "Chicken in a white mushroom sauce, steamed broccoli, and a blend of white and wild rice. Jane made a cheesecake, and I got some fresh strawberries at the grocery store."
"It sounds delightful," he said, crossing his arms and watching her for a moment.
She noticed him watching and looked over her shoulder. "Can I get you something?" she asked.
"No, no," replied Bingley. "I'm all right."
"Well, I'm not trying to be rude," she began, turning around, "but I've never known you to take an interest in stirring."
"Very well," he smiled. "Jane is with Fitz in the living room showing him a picture album. She would not talk to me this afternoon after you returned to your own office. Is there anything that I can do to help? She is obviously upset, and I know she wants to talk about it, but she won't."
"Chuck, it's not you," she assured him. "It's something else. She'll tell you soon. Probably sooner than I want her to, but you'll find out nonetheless."
Bingley rumpled his brow. "Is it you?" he asked. "Is something the matter, Lisa?"
"No," she said, grinning and shaking her head. "No, I'm fine." The telephone rang. "Excuse me."
Bingley nodded as she walked to the other side of the kitchen to pick up the phone. "Hello? Oh . . . Dad. Yes. Yeah, we know . . . no, he's not." Jane appeared through the door of the kitchen, her eyes wide. Lisa looked at her with the same expression. "No . . . no. Okay. Why? Well, yeah, Dad, but . . . I guess you're right. Yeah, I know it's sick. Well, what is Mom going to do? What?! I'll give you best thing for Lydia . . . don't be like that. Dad, if this was me or Jane, you'd have us in a convent!" She sighed. "Yes, sir. Okay. Mm-hm. Love you, too. Bye."
"When are the Marines being dispatched?" asked Jane, crossing her arms over her chest. Darcy followed her into the room.
"They're probably gone already. You know they're coming down on Katie for this?"
"Katie? Why?"
"It's been the same story all of her life. Lydia is the little woman child with no fear, and Katie's shy unless she's around someone with a stronger personality. She leans on that part of Lydia because she doesn't think people will like her if she doesn't behave like Lydia. And since Katie is older, they see it as anything Katie does, Lydia does, even though anyone with half a brain could see that it's the other way around. Of course, Lydia can do no wrong, so now Mom and Dad, yes, Dad, too, has lost his mind, are running around calling Katie a Jezebel. Where they came up with that word, I will never know."
Jane's jaw dropped. "Katie?"
"Lydia can do no wrong!" exclaimed Lisa, throwing her hands up in the air. Jane sat at the kitchen table.
Darcy looked at Bingley. "Are we here at a bad time?"
Lisa shook her head. "No. Jane?" she queued her sister, knowing she wanted to tell Bingley. They were so close now; she couldn't bear to keep a secret from him.
"Our sister Lydia is pregnant."
Darcy rumpled his brow. "Is she not the young--"
"Yep." Lisa cut him off. "Jane?"
"George Wickham is the father."
Bingley looked up at Darcy with utter shock on his face. Darcy's cheeks colored, as did the tips of his ears. Lisa thought she could hear his teeth grinding from across the room. "Is she certain?" he choked.
"Mr. Darcy, our sister may be amazingly stupid, but she does not lie," snapped Lisa.
"Of course not. I apologize." His tone was curt and his voice was low. "Excuse me." He exited the kitchen and then the apartment, reaching into his pocket for his cellular phone as he headed down the stairs of the building.
"This is Fitzwilliam Darcy; I am a guest of yours in room 422. Please have a car waiting for me at 1615 Matthews Street. I shall be returning for the night."
"Yes, sir," answered the attendant politely. "May I do anything else for you this evening?"
"Can you tell me if George Wickham is still checked in?"
"I'm sorry, sir, I can't divulge any guest information. It's against--"
"Mr. Wickham is on company business spending company money to stay there. I own the company. Please tell me whether he is still checked in."
"Yes, sir." She paused a moment, and Darcy could hear the clicking of a keyboard. "No, sir, he is not. He checked out last night at ten twenty three."
"Thank you." He clicked the phone off. He heard Bingley's footsteps behind him.
"Fitz," he said, breathless, "what on earth are you doing?"
"Charles, I know what you're going to say, and frankly, I don't want to hear it. I know this is Wickham's personal business, but you have no idea how personal it is." He paused a minute to look at Bingley, his thoughts whirling in his head. How could I have been so foolish?! "The fact that that girl is in trouble is my fault, Charles, my fault! I knew what he was like! I knew his character! I could have prevented this! Instead a sixteen-year-old girl is in trouble, and her child will never see its father unless I do something about it."
Bingley walked a few steps closer to Darcy. "Fitz, calm down, please. What are you talking about?"
Darcy sat down on the step, running his fingers through his hair. Bingley perched next to him. "When Georgiana was dating Wickham this spring . . ." Darcy continued on, telling Bingley every detail of the Georgiana's relationship with Wickham. "I could have gotten rid of him. I could have at least told her father to keep an eye on the poor girl."
"Fitz, do not blame yourself," chided Bingley. "You can not be responsible for the actions George Wickham takes with an innocent girl."
"Charles, you say that because you are a man, and because you have been my best friend for nearly twelve years. The girl in question is the younger sister of the woman I love. She is not going to be so forgiving. Furthermore, I do have genuine concern for this girl, as I could have prevented her current predicament."
"What will you do?" asked Bingley.
"I am not certain yet. I will be returning to London tomorrow and head into Lambton to find him. I shall probably make my decision on the plane." He looked at his best friend. "Please take care of things here, Charles. Please do not tell Lisa what you know unless you have to," he begged. "I know I will have to suffer the disapproval of both Lisa and Jane for this. They are each one of a kind, but Lisa . . . she is not so forgiving as her sister. I could have stopped Wickham. I should have. I deserve to have lost my angel." The car from Darcy's hotel pulled up, and Darcy stepped in.
Chapter 14
"I'm never going to see him again."
"Yes, you will," said Jane, sitting next to her sister on the couch in their apartment. She placed a hand on her shoulder. "He didn't leave because of you, Lisa."
"No," she said, letting out a breath. "He left because of Lydia. Stupid, selfish Lydia."
"He did--" Jane stopped herself, for about the third time that day, from telling Lisa what Bingley had told her. "I wish you wouldn't take this so hard."
"How am I supposed to take it?" asked Lisa. "We were just starting to get closer, and as soon as he found out about Lydia's baby, he took off. Georgiana told me about their aunt, how she would never let him see anyone unless she was English, rich, and had an impeccable background. This definitely puts a blemish on me. More like a great big sign that says 'No way in hell.'"
"Lisa, I'm surprised at you. Don't you think Fitz has more of a backbone than that?"
"Yeah, I'm sure he does, Jane, but his aunt has too much of an influence on him. Georgiana told me so herself, and who knows a guy better than his own sister? She kept telling me how their aunt always tells them they're different than 'common people.' Someone tells you something enough, you start to believe it."
Jane felt a stab of guilt, as she knew Lisa's words had double meaning. She cursed her mother under her breath. She reached down and hugged her sister, as she had done on several occasions, and tried to reassure her. "Lisa, Lisa, Lisa," she sighed, "I don't ever know what to say to you when you get in this kind of mood. I don't know what her problem is, but Mom loves you. She's always loved you. You're not ugly, and you're far from selfish, and you have plenty of character and style and warmth."
Lisa sighed. "I think the best thing for me to do is forget about this."
"You want to go for a ride with Pepper?"
"No. Last time that happened I just got more confused."
Jane let out a laugh. "Well, what do you want to do today?" she said innocently, nudging a bridal magazine on the coffee table with her foot.
"Hm, I don't know," said Lisa, playing along. "We could go over some things for your wedding, I guess." She smiled at her sister. "I'm sorry, Jane. I shouldn't be so selfish. I'm happy for you, really."
Jane smiled back at her. "I know you are," she replied. "I just wish you were as happy as I am."
"Well, you know, it's my own fault, for not marrying Bill Curtis the minute I graduated from high school, like Mom told me to," she joked.
Jane smiled at her sister again. "Well, what do you want to do? Planning, shopping, or Momming?" she asked.
Lisa thought a minute. "Let's see. Planning means sitting around with a notebook, me doing all the writing and subsequent entry into the computer, or rather my computer, which you will not be taking with you when you move to England. We could watch a couple of chick flicks to get some ideas, have some popcorn . . . that would be okay. Shopping's okay, too, I guess, but I've never shopped for a wedding dress. Momming, however, is definitely out, because I have no desire to see either Lydia, Mom, or Mary."
Jane rumpled her brow. "Why not Mary?"
"Because Mary's pulling that see-I-told-you-so thing. It would be one thing if she really did tell Mom Mr. Wickham was no good, but she didn't, and she's getting an attitude with everybody."
"Okay, so Momming is out. I'm not sure I want to have her meddling in the wedding plans, anyway."
"Jane, you surprise me," said Lisa. "I thought you would have Mom go with you when you went shopping for your dress, at least."
"Well, Mom's not paying for the wedding, I am. And Mom's more interested in Lydia right now, anyway. Besides, she has horrible taste. She'd have you in orange or fuscia or something."
"And we all know how I feel about the pink family or colors," replied Lisa, getting up to grab a notebook.
Jane laughed. "You probably wouldn't hate pink so much if Mom hadn't put you in that horrible dress when you were ten for the family picture."
Lisa returned from her desk, a pen and notebook in hand, happy to drown her misery over Darcy with Jane's wedding plans. "Probably not." She paused to write. "First things first. Guest list."
About a week later, Lisa decided to make a trip to the Bennet house after an outing with Pepper. She entered through the patio door, which she always did, but found the kitchen table quiet. "Julia?" she called, but there was no answer. The living room was silent, and the family room downstairs empty.
Well, I guess no one's home, she thought to herself as she played with her keys, heading for the door. It was then that she heard a noise from down the hall.
She rumpled her brow and went to investigate. The noise, which had been a sniffle, came from Lydia's bedroom. "Lydia?" she called. There was no answer, so Lisa opened the door. "Lyd?"
She stepped inside to find her youngest sister curled up in a chair by the window, staring out into the sunny morning, tears streaming down her face. "Oh, Liddy," said Lisa, instantly feeling sorry for her. She put her hand on Lydia's shoulder.
"Hi, Lis."
Lisa kneeled down by her side. "You want to talk about something?"
"No."
"You lie like a rug," countered her older sister.
This prompted a short laugh to come from the younger Bennet.
"Come on, Lydia," she said, taking her by the hand. She pulled her out into the kitchen. "You think Mom has any tea?"
Lydia shrugged, dabbing her nose with a tissue. "I never drink it."
Lisa searched a little further and found a box of Lipton. She supposed it would do; it was better than nothing. She made Lydia and herself a cup, flavoring it a little with some orange and a dash of nutmeg for aroma. She set the cups down and sat next to Lydia, who stared again out the glass doors. "Tea's good for you," she said. "No caffeine."
Lydia picked up the cup and took a sip. "Thanks, Lisa."
"Lydia, why are you crying? I've known you my whole life and I've never seen you cry." She gazed at her sister, waiting patiently for her to talk.
"Everyone was gone this morning when I woke up," she said, tears threatening to spill over again. "Mom and Dad went to some friends of theirs, and Katie and Mary went to some dumb thing downtown." She sulked a while out of the window. "Everyone was gone," she repeated, her voice barely audible, "and I was alone. Lisa, I don't want to be left alone . . . I'm so afraid of being left alone . . ."
Instinctively, Lisa put her arms around her sister, trying to comfort her. She knew what Lydia meant when she said she didn't want to be left alone. She was afraid Wickham would leave her. Little did she know he was never really with her. "When did you talk to him last?" she asked.
"When I told him," she said, pulling away and reaching for another tissue. "When I told him that I'm pregnant. He said that he would be going back to England for a day or two and arrange some things . . . but that he would be back."
"And you haven't heard from him since."
Lydia shook her head.
"Liddy, how did it happen?"
She sat back with a sigh and stared again out the window. "It was the day Jane brought over Charles, and they came with him. George and that other guy . . . Fritz."
"Fitzwilliam," corrected Lisa with a grin.
"Whatever. Anyway, you guys left to take you to the hospital, and it was just me, Katie, Mom, and George. He's so nice, Lisa, so sweet, and he's so cute. We went outside for a while later, and then Mom went in the house to bed, and Katie went in too . . . and then it was just us out by the pool. He told me how beautiful I was in the moonlight, and then he kissed me. We cuddled for a while, and then we started kissing again, and one thing led to another, I guess, and we made love out there, under the stars. It was so romantic, Lisa . . ."
Lisa let out a breath. "Was it your first time?"
Lydia shook her head. "No. Do you remember Tony Kerbal?" Lisa nodded. "He was my first."
Lisa wanted to jump across the table and start pulling Lydia's hair out. Christ, Lydia, what did you think was going to happen? You're sixteen, for God's sake! What were you thinking? Didn't you learn anything from Dad? You stupid, selfish little twerp! "Do you think you're in love with him?" she asked, stifling her anger.
"Are you asking me that just so you can tell me I'm not, like Dad?" she snapped. "Tell me that I'm only sixteen, and that I don't know what love is? Are you going to call him names, too, and say that he'll never be welcome in your house?"
"No," said Lisa calmly. "I just want to know if you're in love with him."
"Yes," she said, backing down. "Yes, I am, and I don't want him to leave me."
Good Lord, girl, what am I supposed to say to that? she asked silently. She decided to say nothing, and reached over to hug Lydia. "Liddy, I know we're not very close," she said, "but I'm still your sister. I'm here to help you if you need anything. If you ever want to talk, or if you need a Lamaze partner, or anything. Just say the word and I'll be there."
Lydia giggled. "That reminds me of a song," she said.
"Don't start singing, Lydia," warned Lisa with a smile. "I just wanted you to know that you're never alone, okay?"
Lydia nodded as she pulled away from Lisa. They shared a smile for a minute, and were interrupted by the telephone ringing. "I'll get it," volunteered Lisa.
She walked to the kitchen phone and picked it up. "Bennet home."
"Good morning," came a distinctively English-sounding voice. "Is this Mrs. Bennet?"
"No, Mrs. Bennet is out for the day. This is Lisa Bennet," she replied.
"Oh, I see," said the voice, sounding very uncomfortable for a moment. "Miss Bennet, this is Andrew Fitzwilliam . . . and I am a . . . I am a friend of George Wickham."
Lisa noted that the man seemed to have trouble spitting out this fact. "I see," she said. "What can I do for you, Mr. Fitzwilliam?" she asked.
"Well, it would seem that I am helping . . . George out with his arrangements for moving here to Wisconsin. We have just finished setting up his apartment in . . . Appleton, I believe. George wanted to see Lydia for a while this afternoon, and I would have my valet take him, but we did not know if Lydia was home."
"Well, Lydia is here, at home," replied Lisa. "You and George are welcome to come on over any time. That is, providing you bring your entire . . . landing party over with you. I would certainly like to thank who ever it was that helped George move so quickly."
"Very well," replied Fitzwilliam. "May we have your address?"
Lisa recited it for him, said thank-you, and hung up the phone. She turned to Lydia. "That was a friend of George's," she said solemnly. She had reason to believe that somehow, Fitzwilliam Darcy was involved in the telephone conversation. "He said that he had just finished setting up an apartment in Appleton for George, and that he wanted to see you. They're on their way over."
Lydia beamed at her sister, laughing and hugging her. "Oh - I have to go change! Don't let them see me until I come out of my room, okay?" she said, and without waiting for her sister's response, dashed off to change her clothes.
Forty five minutes later, Lydia sat under the adoring gaze of George Wickham, convinced of his love for her. Lisa exchanged pleasantries with the man, and after a while, turned to her other two guests, Colonel Andrew Fitzwilliam and Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy. "Perhaps you two gentlemen would like to join me outside for a moment?"
The two men nodded and followed her out to the patio. She turned as the door slid shut. "Who are you, really," she asked of Fitzwilliam, "and what are you doing?" She gazed at Darcy expectantly.
The colonel opened his mouth to explain himself, but Darcy cut him off. "Please, let me explain," he said. Lisa crossed her arms and leaned against the railing. "This gentleman is my cousin, Colonel Andrew Fitzwilliam. He and I have made arrangements with Mr. Wickham."
"What kind of arrangements?"
"The kind that will ensure your sister's child has everything it needs, including its scoundrel father," replied Darcy. "The long and short of it is, Lisa, that Wickham and I used to be friends, but are no longer. He tried to take advantage of my own sister, in a much more violent way. I feel excessively responsible for her predicament, and I knew, when I heard it, that Wickham would be leaving the country. I flew back that night, and found him quite easily at his home, and I will only say that he must be fond of children, else he would not try to make so many."
A chill ran down Lisa's spine as he explained his interest in saving Lydia. "Your point being?" she asked coldly.
"My point being that he and I are at an understanding. He is legally bound to give your sister thirty five percent of his salary every month."
"Yes, we have that in the States, it's called child support," she said acerbically.
"Please let me finish," he said, glaring at her. Why did she always have to be so difficult? "He is legally bound to provide for her health care, and for the health care of her child, including dental care and vision care. He will offer her to move in with him. The apartment in Appleton is acceptable for children. He must provide for the child's care should your sister decide to return to school or take a job. He is still employed with G & A Industries, but, I assure you, in a field where I will probably never have to see him again. I have offered Jane his former position and she has accepted. Wickham's employment with me is completely dependent on his maintaining Lydia financially as long as she needs him to."
Lisa continued to coldly stare at him. If he could have prevented Lydia from getting pregnant, why didn't he? "This is all really great," she said, "but can you make Wickham give my sister her youth back?"
He swallowed, chastising himself over and over in his mind once again for not firing Wickham, for taking him with on this trip, for not doing anything he could have to prevent the meeting between the two. "I am sorry, Lisa, but no."
"Then what good have you done?"
He could only stare at her for answer.
She pushed past him and turned before she went back inside. "It was nice to meet you, Colonel," she said to Fitzwilliam, and turned again, said good-bye to her sister and left to go back home, where she joined Jane in another afternoon of wedding plans.
Chapter 15
The entire small affair was planned within the next few weeks, and by the time the event rolled around four Saturdays later, Jane both beamed with glee and felt a sickly feeling in the pit of her stomach for the upcoming events.
"It might rain later tonight," said Lisa as she ate her bowl of corn flakes that morning. "As long as it holds out until after it gets dark, it should be okay."
"Lisa . . ."
Lisa looked up from her cereal at Jane, and swallowed. She stood in front of the patio doors in her Winnie the Pooh pajama top and shorts, her arms crossed, looking out into the bright August morning. "Are you okay, Jane?"
"Yeah, I'm fine," smiled Jane. "I . . . I'm just . . . really nervous."
Lisa smiled and rose to join her sister at the window, wrapping her arms around her. "You'll be fine," she said, patting her back. "You planned this so you wouldn't have to worry about anything, remember? You won't have to remember your vows, there's no funny business about when to stand up and when to sit down in the ceremony. It's just really simple, just like you and Chuckie planned it."
"It's not that," said Jane in a quiet voice. "It's tonight."
Lisa froze. "Oh." Jeez, Jane, what am I supposed to say to that?
"You don't have to say anything," whispered Jane. "I'm just really nervous." She pulled back from her sister and smiled into her dark eyes. "Are you going to be okay with Fitz and his family here?"
Lisa nodded. "Yeah, I'll be fine. It'll be nice to see him again."
Jane hugged her sister again. "I'm so nervous!" she exclaimed, smiling. "I'm so excited and so nervous."
Lisa laughed. "Come on, let's go do your hair," she said, ruffling Jane's golden locks. She took Jane by the hand and led her into their father's den, which was Lisa's old bedroom, and began putting her straight hair into hot rollers. They heard Bingley's voice in the hall, and Jane blushed.
"I want to go see him," she told Lisa.
Lisa raised her eyebrows at Jane. "You know you can't." She rolled another section of hair, pinning it closely to her head. Jane was silent for a while, until she heard her beloved's boisterous, happy laugh.
"Lisa, please?"
Lisa laughed. "No," she said. "You wouldn't want him to see you like this anyway. You look ridiculous, your hair in rollers, wearing Winnie the Pooh shorts."
Jane continued to fidget anxiously in the chair. "Come on, just for a minute, please!"
"No," said Lisa firmly, and yanked on more of Jane's hair.
"Okay," she said unhappily. "Will you go tell him something for me?"
Lisa sighed. "I guess," she said. "Just don't expect me to stick my tongue down his throat for you."
Jane laughed. "Just tell him . . . that I miss him."
Rolling her eyes, Lisa sarcastically chirped, "Oh, Jane! That's so sweet!" She finished rolling the particular section of hair, and pinned it in place. "Whatever. I'll be back in a minute. No peeking."
"I won't," promised Jane, and Lisa was off.
"Chuck?" she called down the hall. Charles Bingley's smiling face appeared from around a corner. She grinned at him. "Hey."
"Hello, Lisa," he said, hugging her. "You remember Colonel Fitzwilliam, I am sure?"
Lisa smiled, almost embarrassed, at the colonel. "Yes, I do," she said, sticking out her hand. "How have you been, Colonel?"
"Very well, thank you," he said as he took her hand, and bent to kiss it. "I trust you are well also?"
Lisa looked back at him in romantic surprise. "Yeah," she managed to gulp. Remembering her message from Jane, she turned back to Bingley. "Are your sister and mother here?" she asked.
"My mother is not well," explained Bingley, obviously disappointed. "Caroline is staying with her."
"That's too bad," said Lisa, rumpling her brow in confusion. Why would anyone not want to be at their brother or son's wedding? Unless, of course, they didn't like Jane. She had spent a few days in England, touring her new home and meeting them, but she hadn't talked much about it. "Oh - anyway, I have a message from Jane. She says to tell you that she misses you."
Bingley's chest rose with pride and love. "Would you tell her for me," he said with a huge grin, "would you tell her that I miss her, too, and that I love her?"
"Sure," said Lisa with an eye roll. "Look, you guys can play this messenger game with me all morning, if you want, I don't care, but I'll tell you what I told Jane: I'm not sticking my tongue down anyone's throat."
Bingley laughed at this, and she turned to fulfill her duties at the messenger/servant girl. She and Jane giggled as they heard a shrill voice coming from the living room, talking about how small the town was, and how rude she had found New Yorkers. Lisa finished with Jane's hair, and as the rollers set, polished her nails. Then she pulled the rollers out of Jane's hair, perfectly arranged her locks, helped her with her make up, and into her dress.
"Well," she said, looking at her watch, "we still have about an hour and a half to go, and it won't take me long to get ready. Can I get Mom for you?"
Jane nodded, her heart already pounding. "Sure," she said. "But don't be too long, okay?" She smiled at her sister.
"Okay," she agreed. "Jane?" she said, gazing at her sister.
"Yeah?"
"You look beautiful," she said, and as Jane blushed, Lisa headed out to face the one person she hadn't seen yet.
Lisa spotted Darcy across the lawn. He was standing with in the rear of the back yard, leaning up against a tree. Dammit! Why do you have to be so gorgeous? thought Lisa, wanting to smile as she watched him, his arms folded behind his back, squinting against the sun at a woman in a blue pants suit. She was short and plump, and tried to make up for it with a ridiculous blue feathered hat. Darcy looked like he took no particular interest in what she was saying, and caught Lisa's eye. He smiled. She walked further towards him, but stopped as she heard the woman's shrill voice tell Darcy exactly what she thought of Jane Bennet and her parents.
"It is no surprise to me, Fitzwilliam, for I always knew Charles' good nature would get him into trouble. This Bennet woman is clearly out for his money. Why, just look around you! Her mother has no grace, is uneducated, and irritating, I might add; her father obviously does not know how to control his daughters, else one would not be sixteen and pregnant, and one marrying a man she hardly knows, most certainly for his money. In fact, Fitzwilliam, I would be willing to wager that this Jane character is carrying Charles' child! He is such a senseless man sometimes, I swear it! Hm. Why else would there be a small, quick ceremony such as this? You see, Anne . . . Anne, are you listening to me? You see now why I am to keep such short reins on you. Otherwise, you would wind up much like these Bennet girls. Were I you, Fitzwilliam, I would advise your friend not to go through with this marriage. He will only wind up miserable and penniless, with a wife who does not love him and a brat for a child."
Lisa had slowly been walking toward this woman, whoever she was, the fury inside her growing with each shriek of her voice. She stopped directly behind her, and tapped her shoulder roughly. "Excuse me."
The woman turned and had to look up at Lisa. As she lifted her eyes, Lisa brought her hand back, and with a loud crack wiped the smug, superior look from the woman's face. "I don't know who the hell you think you are," she quietly roared, "but if I ever hear you talk like that about my sisters or my parents again, I will tear your lungs from your chest and shove them down your throat!" She stormed off in the direction from whence she came.
The woman standing with Darcy, a certain Lady Catherine DeBourgh, was left to gape after Lisa. She turned to her nephew. "Who . . . was that?" she asked, placing her hand on her burning cheek. She was too stunned to be upset.
Darcy and his cousin Anne stood perfectly still, each stifling the laughter they wanted to let go. "She is the sister of the bride," answered Darcy, and said no more in fear of bursting. Lady Catherine had never been slapped, much less talked back to.
"Come, Mother," said Anne, taking her arm. "Let's find the ladies room. Your face is sure to have a handprint if it does not meet with some cold water."
Catherine jerked her arm away. "I can find it myself, thank you, Anne," she said, trying to maintain her dignity. She turned and walked away.
When she was safely out of earshot, her daughter began laughing hysterically. "That look!" She paused to breathe. "I have never seen that look on her face!" She leaned up against the tree, holding her sides. She remembered what her cousin had told her about a certain sister of Jane's, how much he admired her, and called her an angel. "Fitz, was that her?" she asked. "Was that Angel?"
Darcy nodded. He, too, had laughed at his aunt's expense, but didn't find it as funny as his cousin. "Calm down, Anne," he said, putting a hand on her shoulder. "Breathe."
"You have to marry her, Fitz," she said, finally slowing down and taking a breath. "You have to marry her. She's already the sister I never had!"
Her cousin smiled down on her. "I shall endeavor to do so," he replied, a grin upon his face.
Chapter 16
The ceremony went smoothly, and both the bride and the groom beamed happily as they spoke with their guests, saying, "Hello, thank you for coming, have something to eat." A few small children were playing with the Bennet's limited toys, which included a ball, a jump rope, and a hula hoop. One of the boys threw the ball at another, but it went way over his head and landed at Georgiana's feet.
Lisa watched as Georgiana threw the ball back at the young boy. She rumpled her brow at the younger woman. "Georgiana, you throw like a girl."
Before Georgiana had the chance to respond, Lady Catherine's nose was mere inches from Lisa's. "Miss Bennet. I suggest you cease with these casual insults. My niece is a girl, indeed, she is a lady."
Lisa wanted to laugh at Catherine's indignance. Who the hell does she think she is? she thought, biting her lip so she wouldn't burst out in hysterics. "Oh, yeah? Well, as my high school football coach told me, that's no excuse. Georgiana," she said, turning from the great Lady, "get your cleats. We're going to the park." She turned and ran for the house.
"You just have to put your fingers across the laces, and make sure to let go at just the right time," explained Lisa, sliding in the back door with Georgiana just as the rain started to pour. "And by the way, I was only joking about the high school football."
Katie rose from her place at the kitchen table, where she had been perched watching for the pair. "There you are, you guys! Can't you hear the sirens? There's a tornado on the way! Come on, let's get downstairs." She grabbed Lisa's hand and pulled her down the steps. The remaining guests, including the Bingleys, were all gathered there, talking boisterously, as if the weather outside was of no consequence.
Lady Catherine stood at the sound of Georgiana's laughter. "Young lady," she said, shocked upon seeing her niece look so disheveled, "get your things. We are going back to the hotel, if a person can call it that, and tomorrow we are returning to England."
Georgiana lifted her eyebrow at her aunt. "Excuse me?"
"Get your things," she repeated.
Georgiana put her hands on her hips. "Why?"
"I see no reason to remain in such an environment."
"I'm not going anywhere," retorted Georgiana. "I'm having a good time. I'm on vacation." She spun around and ran upstairs.
"Catherine," interrupted Lisa, "you shouldn't go anywhere. Didn't you hear the sirens? There's a tornado warning, and it's raining cats and dogs out there. That's why we came back so soon."
"Georgiana and I are leaving," she said. "Further, I believe my nephew introduced me to you as Lady Catherine, and you shall address me as such."
I've had just about enough of this pompous bull! "Do you not understand English?" snapped Lisa, rumpling her brow. "Listen to me. Listen to the words coming from my mouth." Lisa illustrated with her hands the point she was trying to get across to Lady Catherine. "If you" she pointed at Lady Catherine "want to leave" she pointed up the stairs "you" she pointed to Lady Catherine "are going to have to walk" she moved her fingers down her arm "back to your" she pointed her finger at Lady Catherine "hotel." She drew a building in the air. "I" she pointed to herself "am not" she shook her head "driving" she pretended to be maneuvering a steering wheel "in this weather" she made rain with her fingers "understand?"
"I did not expect such civility from you," said the Lady. "I will get my nephew to take me there."
Lisa narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips. "If you think Fitz is nuts enough to drive you in the rain, in a tornado, on the wrong side of the road, without a driver's license, to a hotel he doesn't know how to get to, you're welcome to try," said Lisa, wanting to smile again at her indignance, "but you're not takin' my truck." She pointed at Catherine and nodded once to illustrate her point, and then turned and walked upstairs.
"Your aunt is a bitch," she said definitively as she plopped next to Georgiana on the sofa.
"We know," said Georgiana as she flipped television stations.
"Georgiana," chided Darcy, "you should not talk about your aunt like that. And neither should you." He shot Lisa a look.
"Oh, really?" said Lisa, getting up, tired of his quiet gazing, his looks of stone, and, most of all, his aunt. "Well, I'm sorry if you got stuck with us commoners in this filthy rat hole because of a little bad weather, but I am not a hotel, and neither are my parents." She walked over to the table where her purse was, and fished her keys out. She threw them at Darcy's head. "Get yourself and your damned aunt out of this house. I'd gladly sacrifice my truck if I never had to look at either of you again." She stormed down the hall and locked herself in her father's study.
In the living room, Darcy slumped forward and put his head in his hands. "Why do I keep doing this to myself?"
"Well, William, you can't blame her for getting upset with you. You profess to love her so much, and yet you've barely said a word to her since we arrived." Georgiana continued to stare at the television, punching buttons on the remote.
"Georgiana, what am I supposed to do?" he whined, looking up. "You know better than anyone how much I love that woman."
"You shouldn't have snapped at her like that." Georgiana looked up from the television. "Catherine has done nothing to solicit good humor from anyone in this house. You know that Lisa is very close to her sister, and tomorrow, she will be moving to an entirely different country. She is understandably sensitive right now. Besides, you know as well as I do that Catherine needs a good piece of humble pie, as it were. Frankly, I think Lisa is the right person to give it to her." She turned back to the television.
Darcy put his chin in his hand and thought a minute. "Perhaps you are right."
"Hm," said Georgiana, "imagine that. Me, a fickle little girl of eighteen, telling her elders how to conduct themselves."
Darcy looked at her. "I don't suppose you could advise me, o enlightened one, on how to apologize to Lisa."
Georgiana looked him squarely in the face. "You have an amazing talent for thinking that the first thing people see when they look at you is your money. I can't blame you, because that is the kind of people who you have been surrounded by your entire life, especially Aunt Catherine. But you are beginning to learn that there are some things your money can not buy and can not impress. One of them is Lisa Bennet."
"I have never tried to buy her," snapped Darcy, hurt that his sister would think so of him. "I have never tried to impress her with my material possessions."
"I know. You would never do such a thing. But if you want to apologize to her, you must first mean it. Second, you have to present an apology to her for what it is -- an apology. Nothing more, nothing less, and expecting nothing in return. Not even an acceptance." She blinked a few times, holding her brother's stare. "But do not leave this country until you have it."
Darcy was unsure whether Georgiana meant only Lisa's acceptance of his apology or her acceptance of his marriage proposal, but supposed it did not really matter at the immediate moment. He rose and followed Lisa's path down the hall.
He knocked. "Lisa?" She did not answer.
"Lisa, may I speak with you?"
Still nothing.
"Please, Lisa, I would like to apologize. Would you open the door?"
Nothing.
"Lisa?"
Silence.
"Lisa, please, open the door," whined Darcy, resting his head on it. "Please, I would like to speak with you without a door separating us."
Finally, the door opened. Lisa Bennet stood there, her eyes swollen with tears, her hair twisted up away from her face with a pencil. She said nothing, only looked at him coldly, and her hand brushed with his. She walked away, back down the hall and to the living room, turned a corner, and then Darcy heard the door slam shut. He looked down at what she had put in his hand, and quite literally felt his heart breaking.
It was the ruby.