Beginning, Section II, Next Section
Part VII Posted on Friday, 17 December 1999
William Darcy sat in the dark, in complete silence. His mind kept replaying the picture of Elizabeth holding the rose to her pale cheek, the red bringing out the tiniest hint of color in her face. He saw her nervously brushing her hair back, trying to apologize for their fight, being kind to Georgiana. She hadn't mentioned his explanation, Jane's situation, or the facts about George Wickham, but he was beginning to suspect that she might think better of him. Maybe. If he was very lucky. He would have to see her the next morning. Maybe he could speak with her at a break, or while one of the other scenes was rehearsing. His heart sped up at the prospect, and he knew he had to try. Maybe she was beyond his reach forever, but if there was even the smallest chance . . . he pictured her hesitant smile and gave himself hope.
The next morning he formulated his plan on the way to work. He checked in at his office, and then went straight to the rehearsal studio to find Madeleine Gardiner.
"William!" she exclaimed happily. "What a pleasant surprise to see you at rehearsal."
"Hi, Madeleine," he said with a smile. "I was actually wondering if you would let me sit in today. I've never seen a rehearsal, and I'd kind of like to know what the dancers are doing when they hurt themselves."
Madeleine nodded quickly. "I'm sure that would be fine, William. The dancers know you well enough that they shouldn't have a problem with it. Why don't you have a seat?" She gestured toward a row of folding chairs, and he took one gratefully. Little did he know that Madeleine had her suspicions. She mentally rearranged the order of the day's rehearsal, figuring that Lizzy wouldn't want to rehearse the intense second act duet under the doctor's scrutiny.
William was fascinated by the way the dancers warmed up for rehearsal. Each seemed to have his or her own little ritual to go through. He was watching intently as Nancy rolled around on her back, when Elizabeth walked through the door. She slung her bag onto the floor and greeted a few of the dancers near her, coming to a dead stop when she saw William in the corner.
He didn't know what to do. He didn't want her to think that he was there to stare at her. He waved.
She waved back. She looked positively terrified. Not good.
After a moment she recovered herself and began preparing for rehearsal. She had her back to William, so he could watch her to his heart's content. She moved with the utmost grace, even when she was only tying her hair up into a knot. After fixing her hair and clothing, she closed her eyes and rolled her neck luxuriously. William was dimly aware that he was gaping, and hoped no one noticed. She performed a fascinating ritual with her shoes - while rolling up and down in her bare feet to stretch her toes out, she worked the arches of the shoes back and forth with her hands and squeezed the sides in and out. She started to sink down on bent knees (William had learned to call this plié) and continued stretching her shoes. After a while she seemed satisfied with both her shoes and her ankles. She tossed the shoes aside and began to point her feet out in various different directions. From there she moved to balancing maneuvers and little spins, then began to jump straight up in the air. He was fascinated by the way her toes pointed straight down while she was in the air and seemed to flex just in time to take her weight when she landed. After jumping for several minutes, Elizabeth dropped to the floor and began to stretch while talking to Nancy. If William had ever wondered why so many of his patients had pulled muscles, Elizabeth's warmup answered all of his questions. His body hurt just watching her, but she seemed perfectly comfortable.
Eventually the dancers were ready to go and the rehearsal began in earnest. Elizabeth stood off to the side, now wearing her pointe shoes and rolling up and down in them, from the balls of her feet to the tops of her toes and back down. She never stopped moving, which William correctly attributed to the need to keep her muscles warm. She had kept legwarmers on and was wearing a thin wrapped skirt, but had shed her shirt and wore only a leotard with thin straps and practically no back. William had to force himself to look away from her arms, her back, her chest . . . unfortunately his gaze dropped to her legs. Her tights were rolled up almost to her knees, giving him a fabulous view of her muscular calves. He began to think watching rehearsal was a very bad idea.
When she began dancing, however, he found that he was distracted from admiring her body by the various things it could do. Up close her feet were amazing; he could see every muscle and bone in the top of her arch as she pushed over in her shoes. Her hands were light and delicate and often echoed the movement of the rest of her body. She was not acting, as this was only a run-through, and her face wore a look of steady determination. He wanted to smile, but restrained himself for fear of offending her. On stage she had been stunning and formidable; in rehearsal she was pretty and absolutely adorable. The time flew by, and before he knew it Madeleine was telling the dancers to take a break.
Elizabeth hobbled off to the side and began removing her shoes. She then laid herself on the floor on her back and lifted both feet in the air like a dog playing dead. William had to stifle a smile again. This woman never ceased to captivate him.
Madeleine announced that they were going to rehearse the corps for a while, and that Elizabeth and Brian were temporarily off the hook. Elizabeth sighed with relief, and William began to observe her carefully. She stood slowly, rubbing her lower back with one hand. When she walked toward the door, she seemed to be favoring her left leg. His doctor instinct kicked in, along with his must-rescue-Elizabeth instinct, and he headed in her direction.
"Pull something?" he asked, trying very hard to sound casual and professional.
"No more than usual," she sighed, but her voice was pinched with pain. He noticed with a grimace that her feet were bright red with veins rather prominently showing.
She followed his gaze and smiled. "Occupational hazard." She started to walk toward the door again and couldn't stifle a hiss of pain.
"Elizabeth," he said firmly. "You're in pain. Is it your back?" He remembered that rumored trip to the chiropractor.
She eyed him warily for a moment, then nodded. "But it's fine. It just gets stiff after I've been working a while. Honestly, I've been working through it for a long time. I'll live."
"All the same," he said gently, "you have some time off. Why don't you come down and let me see if I can help?"
She shook her head. "Really, it's okay."
William looked straight into her eyes and took the chance that she was refusing because she didn't want to be a bother, and not because she didn't want to see him. "Elizabeth, I have carried you to my office before and I do not want to do it again."
One corner of her mouth quirked upward in a fraction of a smile. "I don't have a choice, do I?"
He folded his arms over her chest, mirroring her posture. "No."
She sighed heavily. "Fine." She turned and headed for his office, leaving him to follow behind her.
When they reached his office, William closed the door behind them and followed Elizabeth into the inner room. The slam of the inner door woke him from his pleasant reverie, and it suddenly occurred to him that he had no idea what he was doing. Not that he didn't know how to help her back; he did. He was terrified that he wouldn't be able to touch her without giving himself away. Back in the relative safety of a crowded studio that had seemed like a great idea, but now . . .
He couldn't stand around all day, she was waiting. He noticed with a jolt that she had not pulled her shirt back on before leaving the studio. He didn't know if he could stand that much bare skin. Well, he was about to find out.
"Okay," he said, trying to control his shaking hands. "Now that I have you trapped, why don't you tell me what's wrong?"
Elizabeth shrugged. "It's just been getting steadily worse, ever since October."
"Your lower back?" He had seen the way she was walking.
"Yeah." She rolled her eyes. "Some shape I'm in. I didn't even do anything to it."
"Excuse me," he said, "but I saw 'Giselle' last night. There isn't much you didn't do to it."
She smiled. "I guess if you look at it that way - but I do that stuff all the time."
He grimaced. "That's your problem, then." She laughed in response. He crossed the room to her side and gently brushed loose strands of hair off her neck, wanting to accustom her to his touch. It didn't exactly have the desired effect - on either of them. The second he brushed her skin Elizabeth jumped just enough to be noticeable and shivered slightly. His hand jumped away from her neck reflexively, burning with the contact. After a second, he tried again and rested his hand lightly on the back of her neck. She didn't move. He felt the heat of her body radiate up through his hand and realized that she must be blushing furiously or her neck wouldn't be so warm. As casual as they had both tried to be, they both knew there was more to this than a doctor-patient relationship. William still wasn't sure how Elizabeth thought of him, whether she had forgiven him, but at least he was fairly sure that she was as affected by their contact as he was. The thought gave him courage. With both hands he stroked firmly across her shoulders and down her arms, falling finally into the collected, professional movements he had learned back in that massage class. She was stiff, but after a moment she relaxed visibly and let him do his job.
"Good Lord, Elizabeth," he said when he found himself capable of speech. "Someone's been tying sailor knots in your back." With her back exposed he was able to see the muscles rippling under the skin as he worked the tightly wound knots that were giving her pain. She inhaled sharply as he found one particularly tender spot, and he eased up and rubbed the area gently.
"Sorry," he apologized, "but you're an absolute mess."
She laughed, breaking some of the tension. "Don't flatter me, I'll blush."
You already are. "Lie down," he said out loud.
Her head snapped around as far toward him as it would go. "Sorry?"
"Lie down. I want to get to your lower back." He smiled when she could no longer see his face - he had caught her reaction. Her fair skin was irresistible with that heightened color.
Elizabeth adjusted herself on his table, and he began to rub slowly and gently over her lower back, trying to find the places that were giving her the most trouble. Based on her walk as they left the studio, he guessed that the problem was right over her left hip . . .
"Ouch!" she cried. Right spot.
"Found it," he said cheerfully.
"Oh, good."
He placed a firm hand on her upper back. "Quit trying to escape." She subsided, and he began maneuvering the muscles in her back and carefully rolling her hips and spine. "It's a vertebra out of place," he said. "Painful, but the easiest thing in the world to fix. This is probably exactly what your chiropractor would do." Oops. She wasn't supposed to know that he knew - but she didn't seem to notice. "When it's out like this, it pinches the muscles that go all the way down into your leg."
"No kidding," Elizabeth groaned.
After what seemed like an eternity, he felt something click under his hands. Elizabeth yelped. "I think that was it."
"Me, too. Try standing up." He held out his hands and pulled her off the table. "Better?"
She took a step forward and rotated her leg experimentally. "Much better, thank you."
"No problem." Without conscious thought, he reached out and held her face between his hands. "Now, next time will you please come to me when you're hurt?"
She grinned. "Yes, doctor." He didn't release her, and for a long moment they stood looking at each other in silence. A strand of hair had come loose and tumbled over her face; he smoothed it back with his thumb and then let her go.
"Go on back to rehearsal," he said a little hoarsely. "And be careful."
Elizabeth shook her head as if to clear it and offered him a bright smile. "Thanks again."
He reached out and held one side of her face in his palm momentarily, then playfully pushed her away. "Get out of here."
She laughed and went back to her rehearsal, leaving William with a lot of unanswered questions.
And not a lot of time to consider them. As soon as Elizabeth was in the hall he heard Susan Phillips's voice. "Lizzy, there you are. Have you seen your sister?"
"Which one?" Elizabeth asked wryly.
"Lydia. No one's seen her all day."
When Elizabeth spoke again she sounded concerned. "She didn't come to rehearsal?" William was torn between wanting to help and not wanting to interfere in family business. For the moment he stayed where he was.
"No," Susan replied. "Kitty says she stayed over at a friend's house last night and was going to get a bus to the theatre."
"I don't know anything about that," Elizabeth said. "Jane and I live on the other side of town."
"Do you think we should call your mother?"
"I don't know." There was a moment of silence before Elizabeth spoke again. "She didn't leave a message?"
"I don't think so. You haven't heard anything at all from her?"
"No, we -"
"Lizzy!" Susan was interrupted by a frantic voice that sounded like Jane's. "Dad just called."
A cold chill ran up William's spine. He could wait no longer and ran out into the hall in case Elizabeth needed him. Something must be terribly wrong for the usually serene Jane to sound like that.
Jane was heaving, trying to catch her breath. "It's Lydia. She left a message at Adrienne's house."
"What is it?" Elizabeth took a step toward her sister, frowning in concern.
Jane looked up, tears beginning to shine in her eyes. "She ran away."
"What?" Elizabeth and Susan gasped together. William leaned against the wall, trying to provide support without intruding. "What did she say?" Elizabeth added.
Jane shook her head. "Lizzy, she ran away with - with George Wickham!"
The color drained from Elizabeth's face. William was just close enough to catch her as she fainted.
Part VIII Posted on Saturday, 18 December 1999
Elizabeth fell limply against William's chest, her face an alarming shade of white. Acting quickly, he bent down to get his arm under her legs so that he could carry her back in to the table. His own words came back to haunt him - I have carried you to my office before and I do not want to do it again.
He set her down gently on the table, Jane and Susan following him. "I should have seen that coming," Jane fretted. Her voice sounded strained; he turned to study her carefully. She looked bad.
"Jane," he said kindly, "I'll take care of Elizabeth. I promise she'll be fine. Why don't you go find Mary and Kitty - or go home to your family."
Jane wavered - he could see that she really wanted to get out of there. "I can't go home and leave Lizzy . . ."
William looked up at her with one arm still under Elizabeth's back. "I'll bring her to your parents' house, or someone will. It's okay, Jane. Go home."
Her lips trembled. She looked him in the eye for a long moment, then nodded. "You don't mind looking after her?"
"It's my pleasure." He didn't add that he considered the whole thing to be his fault anyway, for not warning everyone about George Wickham. "She'll be fine."
Jane smiled through the beginnings of tears. "Thank you."
He nodded in response, but he had already turned back to Elizabeth and didn't see her leave. Elizabeth had gone so terribly pale, even worse than the last time he had seen her pass out. He suspected that she hadn't eaten that morning, and that the stress added to exercise and her low blood pressure had been too much. He hesitated for a moment, one hand caressing her forehead. It seemed almost kinder to let her be for a while. At least while she was unconscious she couldn't be worrying about Lydia.
But that was ridiculous, and he soon snapped out of his reverie. He sent Susan to the cabinet for the ammonia and waved it gently under Elizabeth's nose. It took a frighteningly long time to work, but eventually she coughed on the vapors and began to stir. Her eyes fluttered, watering from the ammonia fumes, and he knew she was all right. He turned to Susan, still waiting anxiously by the doorway.
"She'll be okay now," he said. "Go on back to your rehearsal. She'll be fine." Susan nodded quietly and left the office, allowing him to turn his full attention back to Elizabeth. She had by now regained her senses and was struggling to sit up.
"Don't, you'll get dizzy," he cautioned, pushing her gently back down.
"My sister," she murmured, not quite coherent yet.
"It'll be okay," he said soothingly, "everything's fine. Just lie down for a while. Everything's okay." He stroked her forehead and her hair affectionately, trying to calm her and hoping she wouldn't start fighting him.
She didn't seem to have the energy. He could pinpoint the exact second when she became lucid, but she remained on the table. "Oh, God, Lydia," she groaned. "How could she be so stupid?"
He took her hand and held it tight. "It'll be all right, Elizabeth. Jane's gone home to your parents' house and I'm sure they'll find her."
She closed her eyes and muttered something that sounded like "my fault."
"Hey," he said, tightening his grip on her hand. "This is not your fault."
Her dark eyes looked up into his, and he felt her pain as a physical blow. "I didn't tell them," she said flatly. "I knew what he was like and I knew that my sisters liked him, and I didn't tell my family the truth. How is this not my fault?"
"I knew what he was like, and except for throwing it at you in a jealous rage I didn't tell anyone either. It's more my fault than yours."
Too late he realized what he had admitted, but Elizabeth was too exhausted and shell-shocked to notice. She took a deep breath and tried to push herself up again. This time he helped her, putting one arm around her shoulders to lift her up to a sitting position. She turned toward him but couldn't meet his eyes, staring instead at the legs of his stool. In one smooth movement he pulled her against his chest and wrapped his other arm around her. "It'll be okay," he whispered again, not knowing what else to do.
Elizabeth slipped her arms around his neck and leaned against him without saying a word. He guessed correctly that she didn't want to talk just yet, and that she was probably still feeling faint, so he simply held her and let her be still for a while. After a moment he felt her thin chest heave with a small sob, and he was relieved. He knew from good experience that it was better for her to cry now than to try to hold it all in. He held her closer and stroked her back and neck, feeling the softness of her skin and hating himself for it. Now was definitely not the time. Her fingers tightened in his sweater as she cried. He didn't know what to do. He bent and kissed her forehead, and felt her arms tighten around him. He had never felt so powerless.
Meanwhile, upstairs in the design studios Caroline Bingley had just heard the news from a passing dancer. She didn't know the particulars of the story, but she knew that William Darcy had hated the accompanist practically since childhood and exulted in the fact that the white trash Bennet family had connected itself to him. And little seventeen-year-old Lydia, throwing herself away on a guy like that! Really, how stupid they all were. What a joke. She had to share it. Without delay she darted from her office and fairly flew down the stairs to see William. She passed the small rehearsal studio just in time to see Kitty Bennet run out, clearly upset, with her clothes only partially pulled on over her leotard. Her eyes were red from crying, and she pushed past Caroline without a word. For once Caroline wasn't angry; she was secretly pleased at this further example of the Bennets' lack of class. Outside William's office she stopped to prepare herself. She used her fingers to fluff her hair, then pulled a bright lipstick from her pocket to touch up. No doubt this display would have convinced William that he needed to stop mooning around and find himself an appropriate woman. After all, Georgiana was reaching a dangerous age and would need guidance. He was sure to see that Caroline was just the right woman for the job.
She lifted her hand to knock, then changed her mind. She would surprise him. She opened the door soundlessly and peered inside. No one in the outside area. The inner door was partially open, if she leaned in just a little farther she could see . . .
She saw, all right, and the sight made her ill. William was sitting on his stool beside the massage table with Elizabeth Bennet practically in his lap - and in a skimpy leotard with an awful lot of skin showing. Caroline couldn't see that Elizabeth was crying in his arms, only that they were way too close for comfort - for her comfort, that is. She had to do something, and fast. "William!" she shouted.
They both jumped and William turned around, but to Caroline's dismay he didn't release Elizabeth or look guilty. He cradled her against his shoulder while looking curiously at Caroline. By now Caroline could see that Elizabeth's eyes were red and that her hair was disheveled, but she didn't put together the right reason.
"Caroline," William asked, "did I leave the door open? I meant to close it. Did you want something?"
"Um," she stammered, "I, uh, I came to see if you'd heard the news."
"What news?" Elizabeth asked sharply, sitting up away from him. William felt for her - she clearly thought that some new development had occurred.
"The news that Elizabeth's sister has decamped, of course," Caroline replied as though William had asked the question. William paled and Elizabeth flushed with rage. She opened her mouth to speak, but he beat her to it.
"Caroline," he said, his voice shaking, "please remember that Elizabeth is here with us. It shouldn't be difficult, as there is no one in the room but her."
"But William, dear -"
"Please!" he interrupted. "Was there anything else?"
Caroline's anger finally overcame any scruples she might have had about being impolite. She decided it was time for some of what they called "tough love." Coming further into the room, she shrieked, "William Darcy, you don't know what you're doing! I know these Bennet girls are easy, but don't throw away your chances for a worthy woman by having a fling with someone like her!"
William practically flung Elizabeth's arms away from him and vaulted out of his chair. "How dare you speak like that about Elizabeth? Besides the fact that her sister's actions are no reflection on her, you know very well that Elizabeth's reputation is absolutely spotless! You would have me take her family's financial status as a measure of her looks, her intelligence, her taste, her talent - when will you learn that rich people can be ugly too, and in more than one way!" He stopped suddenly, having shocked himself, Caroline, and certainly Elizabeth.
"William," Caroline tried, "can't you see what this seductress has done to you? I know you want to do the right thing, but just because you slept with her -"
"Get out of my office instantly, and please do not imply that Elizabeth and I have ever had anything other than a proper relationship, because you don't know anything about either of us! You have showed yourself to be the only cheap person in this room, and I don't want you in our presence anymore."
Caroline stared at him open-mouthed. She attempted once or twice to say something, but no sound was forthcoming. After a moment she could do nothing but turn and leave the room.
As soon as she was gone William turned back to Elizabeth in concern. Her appearance terrified him - her eyes were wide and glowed with fury, her cheeks burned, her limbs had gone rigid where she sat.
"Elizabeth?" he asked uncertainly. "I'm so sorry, I never imagined she could be that bad, I would never have let her anywhere near you, I'm so sorry, she is my friend's sister but I never saw her behave like that before -"
"Stop," Elizabeth said more calmly than he would have thought she could. "It's not your fault. It's all right."
"No, it's not. She said those things about you because of me." He returned to her side and settled on the stool. He desperately wanted to reach for her but wasn't sure that she wanted him to. She might be so humiliated by Caroline's words that any action of that sort on his part might look like taking advantage of an "easy" woman. He reached out and took her hand instead. "Are you okay?"
She laughed derisively and nodded. "I'm fine. The day has not yet come when Caroline Bingley can upset me all that much. It's just . . ."
"What?"
"Isn't that what everyone's going to think of us? That we're all cheap because of what Lydia did?" She sighed heavily and leaned against the wall.
He smiled ruefully and took her hand between both of his. "This isn't the Middle Ages, Elizabeth. People know that Lydia's actions don't necessarily reflect on the whole rest of her family."
"Things haven't changed that much." He frowned at the sadness in her eyes. "People will wonder how our family managed to produce a child like Lydia. And setting aside our reputations - what about Lydia?"
He sighed. "What about Lydia?" They looked at each other for a moment. He cleared his throat. "How old is she?"
"Seventeen." Elizabeth shook her head hopelessly.
He closed his eyes momentarily to thank God for Georgiana's preservation. "Well, I'm sure they'll find her. If your parents don't, the police will."
"If they've left the state the FBI might help," she said sarcastically.
"I'm serious, Elizabeth. It's statutory rape. He could be arrested."
"I wouldn't be sorry if he was," she said angrily.
"Neither would I," he confessed, "and I should have had him prosecuted for something last summer, when he . . ."
"Not your fault," Elizabeth said automatically.
"Yours either."
"Right." For a while they were both silent. Eventually she looked up to him and said, "Thank you."
"For what?"
"For being here. Thank you." She smiled hesitantly at him, and he reached out for her. They hugged tightly until William felt himself to be in real danger of displaying the full extent of his feelings. He pulled back a little bit to kiss her forehead and then released her. "I promised Jane I would take you home. Do you want to go?"
"I can take the bus."
"No, no, you're coming with me. I'm not sending you on the bus in this condition."
"William."
There was an odd tone in her voice, and he looked at her carefully. "Yes?"
She spoke quietly but firmly. "I don't need you or anyone else to fight my battles for me."
He wanted to smile at her, but knew that she would feel condescended to. "No, you certainly don't, Elizabeth. I know that more than anyone - I still have the bruises." She smiled just a little. "But Caroline Bingley was my battle, not yours. She insulted you, but she did it because she expected me to love her for it, and only I could convince her that it wouldn't work. Anything you could possibly have said would only have made it worse." He held out his hand. "Come on. I'm taking you home. I'm not going to have you faint on the bus."
Part IX Posted on Monday, 20 December 1999
Upon leaving Elizabeth outside her parents' house (he didn't think intruding would be a good idea), William immediately drove to a side of town he had hoped never to see again. He parked his car carefully in plain view of the corner, considered paying a small child to watch it, then decided he had seen too many movies and left it. He walked with sure step to a house in the middle of the block, not even needing to check the address. He pounded forcefully on the door. It was opened by a tired-looking woman in baggy, unattractive clothing with long, stringy hair. She looked like she could use a bath and some clean clothes, along with a lot of dental work. William shuddered momentarily - he hadn't thought she could fall this far so quickly.
"Hello, Mrs. Younge," he said, recollecting himself and his mission.
Mrs. Younge, for it was she, was horrified at the sight of him and tried to slam the door, but he blocked it with his foot. "Please," he said, "I am not here to cause trouble for you. I need help - information."
Mrs. Younge did not open the door any wider, but looked at him with some interest. "Oh, so now you need me, eh? What kind of information?"
He winced at her uneducated accent and wondered how he ever could have thought she would make a suitable housekeeper. "George Wickham," he said. Mrs. Younge blanched at the mention of the man who had gotten her fired, but William was firm. "I'm sure you know where he is - I need to find him."
She hung warily on the door. "Whad'ya want with him?"
He had had enough; he elbowed his way past her and stepped into the house. It was a small setup in the middle of a row of houses, all narrow and rather dark. An unfamiliar but decidedly unpleasant scent assailed his nose, and he exhaled in disgust. "That's no business of yours," he said a bit nasally. "Just tell me where I can find him."
She eyed him with what he could have sworn was lechery. "I assume you're planning on - compensating me for this information, Mr. Darcy?"
He reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet.
Three days later William was buckling his seatbelt on American Airlines Flight 1355, preparing to land at O'Hare International Airport in Chicago. As the stewardess passed by with last instructions, he briefly opened his laptop to make sure no one important had tried to contact him since his departure from home. He had one message, and the return address made his heart skip a few beats.
To: wdarcy@juno.com
From: edbennet@company.acb.comDr. Darcy -
Some of the company members have asked me to tell you that we miss you at City Ballet. As you can see, I have returned to work. George and Lydia have not been found. I understand your desire to protect your sister from any connection with him. I hope that you have been well, and that Georgiana is all right. If you don't mind, please tell her that I enjoyed meeting her last week. If things were different, I would have liked to know her better. But that's beside the point. The company would like to know when you are planning to come back - or if you have left us for good. We miss you.
- Elizabeth
The coldness and formality of her message did not fool William in the slightest. Underneath her words he sensed her insecurity, her fear that despite his words he did think worse of her family for Lydia's actions, that his unexplained absence reflected a desire to be out of her sight. He wondered angrily how much Caroline had had to do with Elizabeth's fears, and momentarily regretted not telling her what his plans were. But no, he had chosen rightly. He couldn't get her hopes up in case nothing could be done after all - that would be even more cruel than his temporary abandonment. But he couldn't leave her like this, in doubt of his affection. That wasn't necessary, and he couldn't leave her wondering. The truth was that he yearned for her, and even this small act of writing to her was some connection, some small action to soothe his need for her.
To: edbennet@company.acb.com
From: wdarcy@juno.comElizabeth -
Please tell the company that I miss them all very much. I have some unavoidable business out of town, but I hope to return to work soon, as soon as I can. I will relay your message to Georgiana; I'm sure she'll be thrilled to hear from you.
What happened with George is not your fault. I'm sure Georgiana will not think anything of your being, as you say, connected with him. It's not that big a deal, honestly. He knows to stay away from her now, and with any luck Lydia will soon be saved from him as well.
I am glad to hear that you have returned to work. I think you need to be performing; it makes you happy. Be well, Elizabeth. I miss everyone very much and can't wait to come back, to see you especially.
-William
He blushed just typing that last part, but he knew it would make Elizabeth feel better and that was the important thing. As he finished, the stewardess asked him to put the laptop away. They were landing at O'Hare, and he had work to do.
The apartment was not in the worst section of Chicago, but certainly not the best. The façade of the building was beginning to crumble, and the children playing outside were decidedly dirty. Is this really what Lydia Bennet wants for herself? Poverty, squalor - and George Wickham? Surely she understands . . . He drew up all his resolve and entered the building, noting with a shudder that the door was open and no guard was there to prevent anyone from walking in off the street and going up into the apartments. He couldn't imagine poor Ana in a place like this - no one's little sister should be in a place like this. He knocked on the door and forced himself to smile threateningly at the man who answered it.
"Hello, George."
As could be expected, George Wickham was not terribly receptive of William's visit. In fact, he was downright rude.
"So what is it, Willy," he asked after a moment. "Is it her sister? Which one? Let me guess - Kitty? Yeah, she's pretty easy." He dropped his voice. "Not as easy as the one I got though, right?" He spoke normally again after looking around for Lydia. "Not Mary, unless you're desperate. Janie? Sweet, perfect Jane? Yeah, maybe. If you offered to buy Lizzy into a big New York company, Jane might be persuaded to, ah, repay you. No!" He stopped, suddenly inspired. "It's good old Lizzy herself, isn't it? She's the one who sent you. She told you to come get Lydia to come home, right? What did she give you in return, eh? I bet she didn't tell you what she really wants. Me. She only wanted you to come and get us so she could have me for herself."
William didn't wait to hear any more. He knocked George flat. It felt quite good, and was very long overdue.
George was not a small man, although he was considerably shorter than William, and he hit the floor with quite a thud. At the sound, Lydia Bennet herself came rushing from the other room.
"What happened? George?" She stopped dead at the sight of William. "Dr. Darcy! What are you doing here? Oh, my God!" She had seen George's prostrate body. "What happened?"
"He was feeling a little faint," William said wryly. "Can we talk?"
Lydia looked confused, but she always had been a bit in awe of the doctor. She nodded.
After a while George woke up. He was naturally quite irate and wanted to "take it outside," but William quickly convinced him that in view of the restraining order that would probably be a bad idea. Their negotiations did not take long. It was not the first time George Wickham had seen the inside of the Darcy bank account, so to speak, but hopefully it would be the last.
Lydia Bennet could not be saved, at least not in the way William had hoped originally. She refused to leave her older lover. The only thing in William's power to do at that point was to make sure that he would not abandon her.
Within an hour their negotiations were complete. "Remember," William said sternly as he exited, "if you divorce her any time in the next five years, all monetary assistance will be stopped." George nodded grimly.
When William returned to his hotel, he picked up the phone and dialed the number for City Ballet. "Hello," he said, hoping the young receptionist wouldn't recognize his voice, "could I speak to Madeleine Gardiner please?" When Madeleine picked up the phone he breathed an immense sigh of relief. "Hello, Madeleine? It's William Darcy. I'm fine. Thank you. Yes, I'll be back soon. I need a favor. I don't want anyone to know about it." He paused. "I need you to deliver an anonymous message to Jane Bennet. Her sister will be returning to the area in three days . . ."
The marriage ceremony was performed two days later. The Darcy money hadn't been able to buy safety for girls like Lydia, but it did get her a hasty marriage license. She and George were married at City Hall in a quick ceremony by the justice of the peace. The only witnesses were William and the judge's secretary, Aileen. Lydia had bought a new dress for the occasion, which was short, tight, and cheap, but at least white. She bubbled over with glee at having caught a man before any of her older sisters. William could hardly keep from being ill as she babbled on and on about the defects of her various sisters: Mary was so sour she would never find a man, and if she did they would probably read Aristotle in bed; Kitty would never find anyone because all of her boyfriends would fall in love with Lydia, of course their hearts would be broken now that she was a married woman; Jane would marry the first sap who asked her because she didn't really care about men anyway, only about her stupid lights; and Elizabeth would never marry because no one wants a stuck-up prima donna anyway. William bit his tongue and remembered that Lydia's life was effectively over, and that she was about to be saddled with a man who didn't love her. Some allowances must be made.
George, for his part, managed to get through the ceremony without leering at Aileen, although William was not convinced that this restraint promised any kind of real faithfulness to Lydia.
After the ceremony, the couple returned to the apartment they had taken. William had supplied them with plane tickets home for the next afternoon, so they could have their "one night together first" (Lydia's request). He himself was going straight home that evening, and he had an unpleasant task before him. He had to have a talk with Charles.
His first act upon arriving home was to check on Georgiana. She had missed him but was fine, and reported that Charles had called twice in his absence. With a heavy feeling of dread, William dialed the familiar number.
"Hello?" Charles sounded bright and cheerful. William hated himself for what he was about to do - or rather, for what he had done before.
"Charles, it's William."
"William? Where have you been? Everyone's missed you - Portia wanted you to fix her back, and Caroline swears you promised to help her with her -"
"Charles," William interrupted. They would have to discuss Caroline another time. "I need to tell you something."
"What?" Charles sobered immediately. "What's the matter? Is anything wrong with Ana?"
"Ana's fine." William took a deep breath. "It's about Jane."
"Jane?" Charles gasped. "What is it? I just saw her today - what?"
"She's fine," William assured him. "I just need to know - Charles, you're in love with her, aren't you?" Charles's reaction to Jane's name had been painfully obvious.
Charles swallowed audibly on the other end. "I know I shouldn't - but - yes. Yes, I'm in love with her." He paused. "What can I do?"
"Talk to her." William breathed deeply. "Charles, she loves you."
"What?"
"I have a confession to make." This would not be easy. "I lied to you. I told you that Jane was not in love with you, and she is. She always has been. I understand that you're going to be angry with me, and that's your right, but Jane loves you and she's hurting. Please talk to her."
Charles sputtered with shock on the other end of the phone. "You knew she was in love with me and you split us up? Why would you do a thing like that? I thought you liked Jane!"
"I do like Jane." He took another deep breath. "I was afraid that she might be going out with you out of friendship and nothing more. I was trying to help - I was wrong, though. I'm so sorry, Charles."
Charles was silent for a long time. Finally he said, "I have to call her. No, I have to go over there. See you tomorrow." He hung up without remembering to ask about William's trip.
Part X Posted on Thursday, 23 December 1999
Late that night William found that he could not sleep. Thoughts of Elizabeth warred in his mind with hopes and worries for Charles and Jane. He sat in semi-darkness in his father's library, staring at rows of old leatherbound books. He had not turned on the lights and sat only in the light of a small oil lamp on the table beside him. He was so lost in thought that he did not hear footsteps until they were right behind him.
"William?"
He looked up into his sister's concerned face. "Hello."
"Couldn't sleep?" she asked.
"No," he replied. "But everything's fine. Go on back to bed."
Instead of leaving, she took a seat in the chair opposite his, tucking her bare feet up under her nightgown.
"Your feet are going to freeze," he said. "You should have slippers on, you'll catch cold."
"You don't get sick from being cold," Georgiana corrected. "You should know that, Doctor Darcy."
"Well, it doesn't help." He sank into the chair.
"What's the matter?" she asked.
He sighed again. It was obvious that she wasn't going to leave him alone, and anyway the idea of unburdening himself to his sister was beginning to appeal to him. "I'm worried about Charles."
"Why?" Georgiana was concerned - Charles was a great favorite of hers. "Did something happen?"
"Sort of." He saw her concern and added, "He's fine, physically. But I think he's angry with me."
"What could you possibly have done?" Georgiana asked.
This was not going to be easy. "You remember Jane Bennet?" he asked.
"Charles's friend?" she replied. "Sure. I thought they were dating, but then they seem to have stopped."
He nodded. "Well - I informed Charles that Jane didn't love him as much as he loved her."
"William!" Even in the dark he could see that she was shocked. "Why? I mean, I know you were trying to help Charles, but why would you do that? Wouldn't it be better for him to make his own decisions?"
"I can't make excuses for it," he replied. "I was arrogant. I thought I was a better judge than Charles of Jane's feelings, and his own."
"But why is he angry with you now?" Georgiana asked.
He sighed. "I was wrong."
"What?" she practically shouted. "You mean Jane really was in love with Charles and you convinced him to stop seeing her?"
"Yes."
"Well no wonder he's angry." She leaned forward in her chair. "How do you know?"
"How do I know what?"
"That Jane loves him."
Oops. "Her sister told me."
Georgiana was silent for a moment, then her eyes widened as she finally put the pieces together. "Of course! Jane Bennet! She's Elizabeth's sister, isn't she?"
"Yes, she is."
"William," she said, sounding rather suspicious, "I think you know Elizabeth better than you said you did."
Oh, no. "Why do you say that?"
"Because she wouldn't tell just anyone that her sister was still in love with the man who dumped her. She would have more respect for Jane's privacy than that."
He couldn't argue with that. "I know Elizabeth fairly well," he confessed. "She has been to see me several times with injuries, and we've had some conversations."
"Why didn't you tell me you were friends?" she asked. "She seemed nice."
"She is nice," he said. "But we're not - I mean, I wouldn't say that we've been friends. I'm not even sure that we are now."
Georgiana eyed him. "She looked kind of nervous when we met her backstage."
There was no hiding anything from her. "Elizabeth may think better of me now than she did before," he said, "but that's all."
"What did she think of you before?" she asked.
"I told you how I accidentally insulted her the day we met."
"Hasn't she forgiven you for that yet?"
"She might have," William replied, "except that something else happened."
Georgiana gasped and her hand flew to her mouth. "Don't tell me - she heard that you talked Charles into dumping Jane."
He smiled without humor. "Right again."
"Oh, William."
He looked at her intently, and decided now was the right time. "There was something else, Ana."
"Oh Lord, what else did you manage to do?"
This would have to be worded exactly right. "A while ago City Ballet hired a new accompanist. The dancers liked him a lot, and he and Elizabeth especially talked quite a bit when he first came." He paused. "It was George Wickham, Ana."
She paled, but nodded for him to continue.
"He told her a lot of lies about me - I don't even know the extent of what he said. The gist was, of course, that I had ruined his life. Elizabeth was already prejudiced against me, and this coupled with what she heard about Jane . . ." He shrugged. "Her opinion of me was not sterling."
"But you told her the truth?" It was more of a statement than a question.
"Yes." He reached out and patted her hand. "I hope you don't mind - I told her all of our history with him."
She shook her head. "If you thought Elizabeth needed to know. . ."
He saw and understood her expression. "Don't worry, she doesn't think badly of you. After all, she was taken in by him too. And especially now. . ."
"What happened?" Georgiana asked, starting forward.
There was no good way to put this. "George has run away with Elizabeth's youngest sister. They were married last week in Chicago."
She was silent.
"He never meant to marry her," William continued. "She's only seventeen. He only intended to stay with her until he got bored."
"You made him marry her." Another statement.
Might as well admit it. "Yes."
"For Elizabeth?"
"For Lydia," he replied firmly, "and because I saw the whole mess as my fault for not warning everyone when he was hired."
"William." She glared at him in the lamplight. You're not being honest with me.
"All right, and for Elizabeth," he confessed.
Georgiana grinned in wonder and leaned her cheek on one hand. "You like her!"
"Don't be ridiculous, Ana."
"I'm right!" she crowed, clapping her hands together and leaning back. "You are totally and completely in love with Elizabeth! That's what this is all about. And I was having such a good time at the ballet that night that I didn't even notice how you stared at her! Oh, my God! Of course! Why else would you care so much what she thinks of you? But what are you going to do? You have to talk to Charles - or have you already?"
"I have," he said.
"What did he say?"
William looked down at his hands. "He was upset. He didn't say much - he hung up to go over to Jane's."
"Good," she said. "Then they'll get back together, and Elizabeth won't be mad at you anymore."
He laughed shortly. "It's not as easy as that, Ana."
"William, I saw the way she was acting that night." She gave him a meaningful look - a Darcy family trait. "Trust me - just tell her."
He couldn't help himself. He grinned. "Thanks."
"Any time."
"Now go to bed."
She laughed. "Are you sure you'll be all right?"
"I'll be fine, and you have school tomorrow."
She leaned down to hug him. "Goodnight, William."
He smiled into the dark and kissed her forehead. "Goodnight, Ana. Sleep well."
She started to leave, but turned back in the doorway. "William?" she called.
"Yes?"
Even without seeing it, he could feel her wicked grin. "I would love to have a sister like Elizabeth." Before he could scold her, she was gone.
Although he did feel better after his talk with his sister, William still didn't think that springing his affections on Elizabeth was the best course of action. He decided to take it slowly and let her behavior be his guide. Anyway, he had to wait and see how things worked out with Charles and Jane.
Fate had many challenges in store for William Darcy, but lack of good information was not one of them. Immediately upon his arrival at the theatre the next morning he was met by Charles himself.
"Charles," he said nervously. "How did it - did you talk to her?"
Charles grinned. "I know I should be mad at you," he said, "but I'm too happy to care."
That at least made William smile. "You saw her?"
"We're going out tonight," Charles said happily. "Who knows, I might propose tomorrow. She still loves me!"
"Of course she does," William said. "I'm glad. Charles, I can't apologize enough for -"
Charles waved him off. "I can't be angry at anyone. You can be my best man. This might be the best day of my life so far."
William smiled all the way to his office, and was still smiling when someone knocked on his door. "Come in," he called.
The door opened slightly and Elizabeth peeked around it. "Hi," she said.
He jumped to his feet and replied, "Hi."
"You're back," she said simply.
"Yes." He gestured toward a pile of papers on his table. "And already behind in my work." There was a moment of silence, until he remembered that he wasn't supposed to know how her sister's situation had turned out. "Is there any news of Lydia?" he asked. "How is she?"
She slipped around the door and closed it behind her. "She - they were found. In Chicago." She took a deep breath. "They were married the other day."
"Married?" He raised his eyebrows and hoped his look of surprise was convincing. "George married her?"
Elizabeth groped for a chair and sank into it. "Yes. I wouldn't have thought it, but. . ." She spread her hands helplessly. "Apparently they're supposed to be coming back to town."
"Ah." He sensed that she didn't want to discuss it and fumbled to change the subject. "How's Jane?"
She met his eyes with a look that made his heart skip a beat. "That's what I wanted to talk to you about."
He swallowed and tried to stay calm. "I heard she and Charles have a date tonight."
"You talked to him, didn't you?"
He opened his mouth to protest, but she cut him off.
"You must have, I know." She smiled ever so slightly. "I came to thank you."
He smiled just a bit in response. "It was the least I could do."
She stood up and met his gaze head-on. "Why did you?"
He stared back at her. "Because I had better information."
He could have sworn that she blushed. "I'm sorry for -"
"Don't apologize," he interrupted. "Apologize for beating me, if you must, but not for the argument. I had my share in it too."
She held out her hand, smiling. "Truce?"
He took it with meaningful slowness and brushed his thumb lightly across the back. "Truce."
She flushed again, and pulled her hand back. "I have to get to rehearsal."
He smiled and forced himself to speak casually. "Okay. I'll see you around."
Elizabeth nodded and left, but returned a moment later. "Charles is taking me and Jane to dinner tomorrow night," she said. "I think he wanted her all to himself tonight."
He laughed, but her next words made his heart pound.
"Will you come with us?"
He stared at her, standing in the doorway and looking ridiculously like Georgiana standing at the library door the night before. His sister's words echoed in his head: I would love to have a sister like Elizabeth. "I'd love that," he replied tremulously.
"Good," she replied. "We're leaving right from the theatre. I'm off tomorrow; it's Nancy's night."
"Good," he said. "I'll see you then."
She nodded and ducked out into the hall. William watched her go with the ridiculous urge to clasp his hands over his heart and swoon.
Part XI Posted on Thursday, 23 December 1999
William was conscious, the next day, of being rather over-particular about his clothes. Georgiana would have laughed had she seen him reject four possible shirts in front of his bedroom mirror. It was bad enough that she grinned when he told her that he would not be home for dinner, and sent him meaningful looks all through the rest of breakfast.
He did not see Elizabeth at work that day, which was just as well. He would almost rather not see her until they met for dinner, for some odd reason which he did not himself understand. It was sort of like postponing pleasure, which is then all the greater for its having been postponed.
He did see Caroline, however. She came sweeping into his office just before lunchtime, wearing a bright orange sweater and an annoyingly false look of contrition.
"Are you busy?" she asked.
He looked up sharply at the sound of her voice, but shook his head no. She came further into the room.
"I heard that you had returned yesterday while I was out, and I couldn't wait any longer to apologize for those things I said to you," she said sweetly. "They were unfounded and unfair, and I am sorry."
He put down the pen he had been writing with and shook his head at her. "Whatever possessed you to go on like that, Caroline? I've known you for ten years, and I've never seen you behave that way in my life."
She brushed her hair back and smiled in what she hoped was an appealing way. "I was jealous, William dear. That's all there is to it."
His eyes opened a bit wider, but he couldn't really say that he was surprised. "Well, I hope we got that cleared up," he said finally.
"Oh, yes," Caroline replied brightly. "I was so relieved to hear that you have not been having a relationship with Elizabeth. It was foolish of me to think so - can you forgive me?"
"Caroline," he said, getting to his feet, "the person you should be apologizing to is not me, it's Elizabeth. And you should be apologizing for the things you said about her - about both of us - and not for thinking that we were together."
"And I am sorry for those things I said to her," she said in a voice that declared the contrary. "I've said that it wasn't fair of me, and I meant it. Please forgive me."
"For what it's worth," William replied, "you're forgiven." Truth be told, he found Caroline much too sad to be angry with her.
"Thank you," she gushed, "I'm so relieved." She came over and rested one hand on his shoulder. "I don't know what came over me."
"It's all right, Caroline," he said, moving away from her.
"Are you free tonight?" she asked.
"No, I'm afraid I'm not."
She laughed. "You're not going out with our friend Elizabeth, are you? You know, say what you will but I really do suspect that you were attracted to her at first."
"I was," he said flatly, "and I still am. In fact I think she's on of the most beautiful women I have ever met."
Caroline drew herself up to her full height, which was very nearly as tall as William himself. "You're not seeing her tonight, are you?"
"In fact, I am," he replied. "I'm having dinner with her and Charles and Jane."
"Well, as long as it's for Charles's sake," she said.
He looked at her long and hard before deciding that he needed to speak. "Caroline," he asked quietly, "do you think you're fooling me, or yourself?" Before she could reply, he pushed past her and left the office.
That evening as he was preparing to close up there was a gentle knock on the door. Terrified that it might be Caroline back for another attack, he hesitated before saying, "Come in?"
Elizabeth peered around the door and he sighed with relief. "Hi, Elizabeth."
She stepped into the office and he saw that she was still wearing rehearsal clothes. She had pulled a sweater over her leotard, for which he was grateful, and was wearing thick legwarmers over her long legs. Too late he realized that he was in fact staring at her legs. "Nice legwarmers," he said. Nice save, Darcy.
"Thanks," she said cheerfully. "I knitted them myself."
"Really?" he said with actual interest. "Georgiana's been learning, but all she can manage so far are scarves."
Elizabeth grinned. "It's not so hard. I bet even you could do it." He smiled and she continued, "I came to tell you that as soon as Jane and I get changed we'll all be ready to leave."
"Great," he said. "I'll meet you all upstairs." It wasn't until she had left that he allowed himself to lean against the table for support. This dinner was going to take every ounce of self-control that he had.
Charles had chosen a nice, small restaurant across town. They went in three cars because that was the way they had all come to work that morning. The December air was cold, and both Elizabeth and Jane were well-wrapped in long wool trenchcoats. It wasn't until they got inside and hung their coats up that William realized just how hard this dinner was going to be.
Elizabeth had traded her usual tights and leotard for a long black skirt of some almost transparent material with a slit up the side. It wasn't actually revealing, but managed to look like it was. Her shirt was both tight and loose at the same time, clinging to her body while draping provocatively. She had left her hair pinned up as it had been for rehearsal, leaving her white neck completely exposed. William found it impossibly difficult not to stare at her. She was such the perfect combination of terribly attractive and yet elegant and somehow above ordinary lust. He didn't know how she managed it.
Fortunately she was seated directly across from him, which meant that he could look at her all he liked with the simple excuse that it was the way his chair was facing. Both of them watched Charles and Jane a great deal, and more than once he caught Elizabeth smiling because the other couple had had a particularly nice moment. He was more interested by the moments when both of them would look slyly up from their plates and their eyes would meet, Elizabeth looking at him through her eyelashes without lifting her head all the way. On these occasions they would smile shyly at each other and then return to the conversation with Jane and Charles, but not without many more furtive glances in the other's direction. William was pleased, but at the same time rather frustrated. Women, he decided, should come with instruction manuals. He thought, he hoped, that Elizabeth was looking at him because she liked him, but she could also be afraid that he disapproved of her, be watching him because she didn't trust him around Charles and Jane, or any number of other things. It was clear that eventually they would have to talk. He just hadn't gotten over hoping that she would start first.
To distract himself, he turned his attention to Jane for a large part of the meal. The more time he spent with her, the more he liked her. She was sweet and intelligent, had a lot of interesting things to say - and was obviously very fond of Elizabeth, which was certainly in her favor. The near-loss of her relationship with Charles, however painful, had taught her to be less guarded in showing her feelings. It was now clear to William (and, from the way they were staring, probably everyone else in the restaurant) that Charles and Jane were very much in love. William, for his part, glowed with the knowledge of his friends' happiness and his love for Jane's sister. He spent a great deal of time making little circles with his eyes around the table. He would first look at Charles and observe his never-fading smile, then at Jane to smile at her shy happiness, then at Elizabeth to bask in the glory of the occasional smile in his direction. This was heaven.
And it was over all too soon. Before they knew it they had been in the restaurant for two hours and needed to leave. One odd thing that happened on their way out was a middle-aged man who caught William's attention and whispered, "Congratulations." At William's puzzled look, the man added, "Your girlfriend. You two are so in love. She's beautiful." William could only glance at Elizabeth and agree.
When they got outside Charles, trying desperately to be subtle, asked Jane to come to his apartment for a while so they could talk things over. Jane said immediately that she would love to (a statement which was accompanied by a delicate blush), but that she would have to drive Elizabeth home first.
"Can't she drive your car?" Charles asked. "I could bring you home myself."
Jane sent Elizabeth a wry grin, and Elizabeth said dryly, "My driver's license expired."
"You know what, Charles," William said quickly. "You and Jane go ahead, and I'll take Elizabeth home." Too good to be true.
"I couldn't ask you to do that," Elizabeth protested. "I can just drive home and count on not getting stopped."
"And if you do, you'll get a ticket and your insurance will skyrocket," William pointed out. Please, please don't fight this. "Let me drive you. That way Jane will have the car, anyway."
Elizabeth wavered, but finally agreed that this was the best solution. She kissed Charles goodnight and told her sister firmly, "I'll see you later." Jane beamed in response and headed off to get her car and follow Charles.
William waved her off and then turned and gestured for Elizabeth to walk in front of him. She complied with a little bow, and he followed her, smiling.
"Thanks for doing this," she said as they walked through the lot. "It seems you're always around to rescue me."
"Or Jane and Charles, in this case."
"They seem very happy," she said.
"Yes, they do," he agreed. "I have never been so happy to be wrong." This admission of guilt was rewarded with a smile as she got into the front seat of his car.
William couldn't help but be reminded of the last time he had driven Elizabeth home, even though that had been to her parents' house and not the apartment she shared with Jane. This ride was much more pleasant, naturally - they talked and laughed a great deal, and managed at the same time not to discuss themselves at all. By the time they reached her building, William had relaxed a bit. He had discovered that, even more important than attraction, they could have fun and good conversation together that did not revolve around some pressing issue in one of their lives. He thought that boded rather well for their relationship, assuming they might eventually have one.
"Well, thanks very much," Elizabeth said as she opened the car door.
"Not so fast," he said quickly. "I provide door-to-door service." He turned the car off and got out with her. Her eyes registered surprise, but she allowed him to walk her up to her apartment.
He waited patiently while she fumbled for her keys. "Sorry," she apologized.
"No problem," he said, his mind somewhere else entirely. He was wondering whether it would be all right to hug her - certainly a kiss would be going a bit far. He could have no idea that her keys had such a hard time finding the lock because she was distracted by how absolutely dashing he looked in his suit.
"There we are," she said finally as the door swung open. "Sometimes the uh, the locks freeze."
"Sure," he said, without commenting that indoor locks seldom froze. "Well, goodnight." He lost his nerve and turned to leave.
"William!" He turned back to see her waiting outside the door.
"Yes?"
She smiled slightly. "Is everything all right?"
"Why wouldn't it be?"
She leaned against the wall. "I don't know - you seemed a little - off, somehow."
"I was thinking about Charles," he said quickly.
"Really?"
"Mmm." Paralleling her posture, he leaned against the wall. "He and Jane just looked so happy tonight, and. . ."
"Yes?" Elizabeth looked at him with what he could swear was anticipation.
He broke suddenly into a smile. "Just jealous, I guess." At her horrified look he added quickly, "Not over Jane. I adore her, but Charles is welcome to her in that way. No, I was just wishing it was me, that's all."
Elizabeth's answering smile was nervous and not quite heartfelt. "I'm sure it will be," she said.
"Yeah," he said wistfully. Suddenly a plan formed in his mind. He looked at her with renewed purpose. "It's funny when you first fall in love," he said. "You know, you get nervous every time you see the person, you're always conscious that she might be watching you - and then every second that you're away from her you feel starved, somehow." He got the reaction he was hoping for - Elizabeth hung on his every word and looked as if she was gripping the door jamb for support. He grinned. "Goodnight, Elizabeth."
She narrowed her eyes at him and the smallest hint of a smile crept over her face. He knew in that moment that she was on to him. That was it, then - the game was on. "Goodnight!" she called brightly, and disappeared into the apartment.
William stood for a moment grinning insanely at her door. All right, Elizabeth. If that's the way you want to play it. The only thing that made William nervous was the knowledge that she was every bit as determined as he not to give in.
Part XII
When he returned home, William found his sister waiting for him in the living room. "Well?" she asked as soon as he entered.
"Well, what?" he responded. "Aren't you tired?"
"Not at all," she said cheerfully. "How'd it go?"
"All right," he said noncommittally.
"All right?" she echoed. "It's almost eleven; you went to dinner at seven-thirty. It must have been better than all right."
He gave up and sank into a chair. "We had a good time and we didn't leave the restaurant till nine-thirty."
"And?" she prompted.
"And, then Jane went over to Charles's and I gave Elizabeth a ride home."
"Oh," Georgiana said knowingly.
He glared at her. "Hush. Nothing happened."
"Sure."
"Really." He picked up a newspaper off the coffee table and tried to look casual. "Absolutely nothing."
Georgiana stared. "You're serious, aren't you? Nothing really did happen."
"That's what I said."
"William!" she groaned loudly. "What are you, stupid?"
He laid down the paper that he had been pretending to read. "Excuse me?"
"Please - she asked you to dinner, you drove her home - and nothing happened? What were you thinking?"
"Ana," he said in an odd tone, "I think we may be competing."
"Against who?" she asked, intrigue cutting her tirade short.
"Against each other."
"What?"
He tried to find the words to explain. "From what happened tonight - I think she knows I'm interested. And I'm pretty sure - I think she might be interested. But neither of us wants to say it first. And now I think it's become almost a game. I - I baited her, you could say, tonight, and then she got me back. Now I think it's my turn."
"She got you back?" Georgiana was all ears. "Are you sure nothing happened?"
He grinned. "Go to bed."
"William -"
"Absolutely not, I am not discussing my love life with my sixteen-year-old sister. Goodnight."
She departed in a huff, leaving William to his thoughts.
The next morning on the way to his office he heard different music coming from the rehearsal studio. With a jolt he recognized it as the omnipresent Nutcracker music, and realized that the Christmas season was upon him. Now a welcomed guest, he peered into the studio. His friend Nancy was dancing a solo in a rehearsal tutu and well-worn pointe shoes. As he watched, the music changed tunes. Nancy clapped her hands sharply, and Elizabeth and Brian stepped out of a corner of the room hidden from his view. The music blaring from the stereo was the Spanish dance, and their duet was full of high kicks, deep lunges, snapping heads, and flipping hands. Elizabeth turned her shoulders and looked over them rather provocatively, in a way he had not seen her dance before. All too soon the short variation was ended, and a dancer named Eliana was beginning the slow, seductive Arabian dance. Elizabeth caught his eye from across the room and grinned wickedly. He grinned back - round two was definitely on.
She came to his office when she had a break, as he had known she would. He wasn't sure how to act - he knew the ball was in his court. "I liked your variation," he said, using the newly-acquired ballet vocabulary self-consciously.
"Thanks," she replied airily. She seemed casual enough. He sensed that it was his job to shake her up a bit, but he didn't know quite how.
"Do you always dance that part?"
She shook her head. "We like to trade off for Nutcracker, since all of us know most of the parts. This year I'm dancing the Dew Drop Fairy too."
He had no idea what that meant, but he nodded anyway. "I'll have to bring Georgiana," he said.
"Do that," she replied with the same undisturbed air. "Tomorrow is the last Giselle, you know."
He hadn't known that, but he supposed he could have figured it out. What to say, what to say. . . "Do you perform on Christmas?"
"Not on the day, but on Christmas Eve we do."
Inspiration struck like a ton of bricks. "We're having a party at our house on Christmas Eve. It doesn't start until ten. I would love it if you could come after the performance." Take that.
Indeed, her countenance wavered for a moment before she replied, "We usually go home. . ."
With one hand he waved away her objection. "Charles will be there, and Jane will want to be with him anyway. You can go home afterwards and still be there for Christmas morning."
Her mouth opened as if she wanted to voice another objection, but she couldn't come up with one and no sound came out. "All right," she said finally. He noticed with satisfaction that she seemed a bit nervous about the whole thing.
"Good," he replied. "Georgiana will be thrilled to see you." To tell the truth, he was a bit nervous himself, but that wasn't the important thing. The important thing was to throw her off balance - no matter if he was tottering right along with her.
"I'll be glad to see her again," Elizabeth replied faintly. She didn't move for a moment.
"Is there anything I can help you with?" William asked finally.
"No," she said quickly, eyes wide. William hid a smile. "No, I'm - fine."
"You're sure?" He watched her for a moment, wondering if she would recover her composure enough to strike back. It's your turn, Elizabeth.
One corner of her mouth twitched upward in what he was learning to recognize as a smile. "Well, there is one thing I wanted to - ask, but I'll save it for another time, I think."
Oh. Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh. That was an absolutely flawless strike, he had to admit. Subtle, yet brilliant. Not only to promise revenge, but to leave him guessing when it would come. He really must learn not to underestimate her. The woman had depths of underhandedness he was only beginning to comprehend.
He smiled back, pleased to recognize a worthy opponent. "Till then."
She nodded, acknowledging his recognition. "Till then." She disappeared out the door without another glance.
The whole thing really was terribly amusing. Openly acknowledged warfare over who was going to confess first. Wonderful. Wonderful, and deeply compelling. He found himself plotting his next move as he sat there in her wake - but then, it might matter what she chose for her attack. . .
She made him wait, which he suspected was part of the game. He saw her at lunch, passed her five times in the hall - and still nothing. Finally, at the end of the day she appeared in his door. "William?" she called. His heart jumped at the still-unfamiliar use of his first name.
"Elizabeth. What can I do for you?" He waited with barely concealed anticipation for the challenge.
She hung on the doorframe in an unconsciously seductive manner. "I don't want to impose, but. . ."
"No, go ahead." He was intrigued. This was fun.
"It's just that Jane is going out again with Charles, and I was going to take the bus, but if you're passing my neighborhood. . ."
Oh, she was good. She leaned her head against the doorframe. Her leotard didn't quite fit properly, and one strap slipped almost off her shoulder. She was very good. He had to give her credit.
Or, he would have if he could think clearly. As it was, he was capable only of stammering, "Of course I'll drive you."
Her eyes lit up in what could have been either honest delight or excellent acting. "Really? You don't mind?"
She inspired heights of wickedness, and he found himself responding in a rather suggestive tone, "No, I don't mind at all," while unabashedly eyeing her in her rehearsal clothes.
She blushed heartily. Haha! Score! He couldn't believe he had retaliated so quickly. This was getting better and better.
"Great," she said in a somewhat subdued tone. "Give me two minutes." She left quickly, leaving William to watch her retreating figure.
"This relationship," he said aloud to himself, "is bizarre."
But he was rather enjoying it.
Then he remembered that he had a car ride to survive.
Elizabeth met him in the lobby, suitably dressed for the street. He wasn't disappointed. The tacit agreement between them seemed to be that the victor would be the one to hold out the longest without confessing his or her feelings. Elizabeth in a leotard was hardly a sight that would help him keep those feelings under wraps - and he was bound and determined to win.
"Let's go," she said in deep, caressing tones that he had never heard before.
On second thought, losing might have its advantages. He followed humbly. Much as he hated to admit it, she seemed to be winning. Years of performance had taught her to act as he could not, and she was expert at playing the seductress without actually doing anything. He would have to come up with something really good for this party in two weeks. Unless she confesses by then. Because by God, he would not. This was too much fun.
The car trip was her move, and he was on the defensive. His mode of defense was avoidance - he very carefully did not look at her the entire way to her apartment. He remembered the way, so he didn't even have to ask for directions. They talked, but it was idle chatter. He was doing all right.
They pulled up to her door. He contemplated walking her in, but it was far too risky. "Broad daylight," he said, gesturing out the window. "I trust you to make it inside."
"Thanks," she said wryly. Just before she slammed the car door she leaned inside and said, "Sleep well."
A hit, a palpable hit. Score one more for Miss Bennet. He watched her enter her building, knowing that she would be in his dreams. He would have to think of something ingenious.
In the library, he found Georgiana stalking about the room raving at the walls. "'O, she misused me past the endurance of a block!'" she cried. "'An oak with but one green leaf on it would have answered her'* - oh. Hello, William."
"'My very visor began to assume life and scold with her,'" he finished for her. "Much Ado About Nothing is one of my favorite plays, as you well know, but why are you shouting Benedick's speeches to the library walls?"
"English class," she replied, flushed with the embarrassment of having been caught. "We have to learn four speeches by heart."
"And you chose this one. . ."
"And one of Beatrice's, and - oh, another of Benedick's and one from Twelfth Night because I didn't like any others from this one."
"Why this speech?"
Georgiana laid her book down on the table. "I love when Benedick and Beatrice fight. You know all the time that they're going to wind up together, so the fighting is just. . . what would you call it? It's almost a game."
William didn't hear another word. He was already dashing up the stairs two at a time.
The next morning, Elizabeth found a notecard in her mailbox at the theatre. Puzzled, she unfolded it and read, instead of the expected congratulations on the end of Giselle's run, the following lines:
"[She] huddled jest upon jest with such impossible conveyance upon me that I stood like a man at a mark, with a whole army shooting at me."
William was rather taking a chance in assuming that Elizabeth was acquainted with Shakespeare, but even if she wasn't the meaning of the lines could hardly escape her. All the better, though, if she recognized the context and caught the humor.
He watched from behind a corner as she read the card. The confused look smoothed out, and a smile crept over her face. She tapped the card against her lips thoughtfully, then turned and headed for the dressing rooms. The slight color in her cheeks told him that he had scored a hit. Not that the words meant anything particularly special, but now she would have to reply. And she had to know that he would be quick to find anything like a confession of love that might be lurking in her answer.
He doubted that she kept the complete works of Shakespeare in her dance bag, and so he was surprised to find a reply left on top of the row of mailboxes that afternoon. It was addressed to "Benedick." Ridiculously, he glanced around to make sure no one was watching before he took the card.
"I had rather hear my dog bark at a crow than a man swear he loves me."
No, she would not have needed a copy of the play for that, if she knew the play at all. One of the more famous quotes, to be sure - and an ingenious choice. Them were fightin' words. One of his favorite lines sprung immediately to mind, and he quickly grabbed an inelegant piece of notepaper to scribble it by way of a reply:
"I am loved of all ladies, only you excepted; and I would I could find in my heart that I had not a hard heart; for truly I love none."
With a satisfied smile he tucked the reply into her box and headed for the parking lot. He knew that the more he denied his feelings, the more she would think that he "doth protest too much." It was the perfect way to refuse surrender while taunting her with the knowledge that he would accept her if she gave in first. Perfect.
As he walked to his car he passed Elizabeth and Jane just getting into theirs. He couldn't resist calling out, "Goodnight, sweet ladies!"**
Jane looked at him oddly, but Elizabeth's eyes widened. Clearly she took this as an acknowledgment of authorship of the note. "Dr. Darcy," she called back.
He paused and raised an eyebrow.
She grinned. "Did you know I was an English major in college?" With that, she ducked into the car. William smiled to himself and reflected on Elizabeth's very great love of dramatic exits.
*From Shakespeare's Much Ado About Nothing, as are all William and Elizabeth's notes.
**From Hamlet