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Part XIII
Having decided that the literary game was over for the present, William was left in the unenviable position of finding a new tactic. It would not be easy. Fortunately for him, he seemed to lead a charmed life. An idea came upon him in a burst of inspiration the next day over coffee with Madeleine.
"The Nutcracker rehearsals are going well," Madeleine commented, stirring her coffee.
"Good," he replied, not having anything of particular interest to offer on the subject.
"And Jane's specials are all up, and the sound technician is already wiring, and half of the backdrop has already been repainted from last year, and the dressers have been hired, mostly. . ." Madeleine trailed off when she realized he had no idea what she was talking about.
"Sorry," William said with a rueful grin, "They didn't teach us much about stage technicalities in med school."
"We'll forgive you," Madeleine said cheerfully, "provided that you learn quickly." He smiled in response and she said, "You know, the only way to learn really well is to be there."
And inspiration hit him hard. Oh, this is good. "Maybe," he said slowly, "maybe I should be backstage for one of the performances. I could help with something, and I wouldn't be in the way. That way I could see how everything works." And be back there with Elizabeth for the whole performance. She wouldn't be able to escape. . .
"That's an idea," Madeleine said, her face lighting up. "I'm sure there would be no problem."
"Great," he replied enthusiastically. "Do you think you could work it out with the crew?"
"Talk to Edward yourself," she suggested. "I'm sure he'd be glad to have you."
"But what could I help with?" He saw Madeleine pause, and added, "I don't want to just hang out and be in the way. Unfortunately, I don't know how to do much of anything."
She frowned. "Well, I suppose we could make you a dresser in the men's room. . . but then you'd be stuck down there and not see anything going on backstage. We could just have you as an extra hand in the wings, helping as things are needed." She didn't tell him that extra help was very seldom needed in the wings - Edward Gardiner drove his crew hard and well. But that was the place where William would see the most, and possibly feel useful without being much called upon. "Besides," she added, "that way you could watch the ballet, and you'd see the dancers going on and off."
"That would be nice," he said.
Madeleine raised a suspicious eyebrow. "You're awfully interested in the goings-on of the ballet these days. I don't remember you being quite so involved when you first got here."
"Well, you know," he said, trying to hide his blush, "made some friends. . ."
"Yes, of course," she agreed, momentarily thrown off the track. "You and Nancy have become quite good friends, haven't you?" Her tone reassured him that she meant friends in the non-romantic sense. "And I forgot that you would know Jane through Charles."
Uh-oh. Something had occurred to her, he could tell. She was eyeing him. "William," she said finally, "that message that you had me deliver to Jane, about Lydia. . ."
Oh, dear. "Yes?"
"What was that all about? How did you know where Lydia was?"
He sighed and decided quickly that lying to Madeleine would only make her more suspicious. "I found her," he admitted.
She nearly spit out her coffee. "You did?" He could see the wheels turning. "Was that your business out of town?"
He nodded.
"Oh." She was thoughtful for a moment. "Did you. . . now don't be offended, but you mentioned to me once that you grew up with George. . . did you - give him money?" The look on his face was all the answer she needed. "Why?"
He sighed long and hard. "Suffice it to say that I knew something of George's character that I should have told the company when he was hired, and I didn't. He had done something similar before. When he did it again with Lydia, I felt responsible."
Madeleine was silent for a long time. "You have been very good to them," she said finally. "To my friends, I mean."
"Your friends?" She must mean from the ballet, he realized.
"Oh, yes," she replied. "Didn't I ever tell you? Mrs. Bennet, Fran, is my second cousin. We're really more like friends than family, but I see her often. I've known her husband since three years before they were married."
William's eyes must have registered his surprise. She smiled and added, "I've always been very close to their children, even though Edward and I have four of our own."
"You do?"
"Oh, yes." She smiled to herself. "They're grown up now, of course. But Fran's children were a little younger, so when my own went off to college and to have their own lives. . ." Her face darkened a little. "Lydia, the youngest, was our baby for so long."
"I'm sorry," he said.
She reached across the table and patted his hand. "It's all right. You did more for her than we ever could have." Her mood turned lighthearted again and she said, "You know, Elizabeth is my godchild."
He made a valiant effort, but she caught the look that flashed across his face. "You know Elizabeth pretty well, don't you?"
"Yes," he said in a strangled tone.
She looked at him over the rim of her cup. "How well?"
Would the horror never end? First Georgiana, then Madeleine. . . Will other people never get tired of my love life?
"Pretty well," he said, practically choking on the words. He could feel his cheeks flaming.
"Hmm," Madeleine said. She sipped her coffee and he dared to think that she might have dropped the subject, until she suddenly said, "She wouldn't have had anything to do with your feeling responsible for Lydia, would she?"
He would have liked to play it cool, but choking on his coffee rather gave him away. "No," he said lamely, wiping at the coffee he'd spilled on the table.
"Hmm," Madeleine said again.
He was so eager to escape Madeleine and her speculations when they got back to the theatre that he went barreling along the hallway with his head down and, predictably, crashed into a dancer. "Sorry," he said, looking up. Oh, h--l. Of course it would be her.
"That's okay," Elizabeth said. "In a hurry?"
"Sort of," he said. "See you later." And with that he went tearing down the hall to his office, leaving Elizabeth rather puzzled.
Edward Gardiner visited him later in the afternoon. "I heard you want to be backstage one night," he said, lounging in the doorway.
"If that's all right."
Edward waved his hand. "Fine. We'll just throw you in the wings, and if somebody yells 'help'. . ."
"I help?" William guessed.
Edward grinned. "Can't put anything past you doctors. You want to help on the first night?"
It didn't take long for William to figure out that that would throw Elizabeth like nothing else. "Sure," he said.
"Great," Edward said. "We start Friday. You can just show up - the show starts at eight, so you'll want to come at six-thirty."
"Friday?" William echoed. "Isn't that kind of soon? They'll only have been rehearsing for a week."
Edward laughed. "They've been rehearsing all through the Giselle run. You haven't heard the music 'cause they've been upstairs mostly."
"Oh."
Edward turned to leave. "See you Friday."
"Sure."
William decided to bring Georgiana to The Nutcracker on another night and watch from the audience with her. He arrived at the theatre on Friday night alone, and wandered into the auditorium in search of Edward.
The chaos astonished and frightened him. The lights were on in the theatre, and various bits of lighting equipment were hanging precariously from the catwalk (oh, the theatre terms he was learning). Jane was high above his head on the catwalk itself, pacing around in black clothes and shouting instructions into a headset. The crew onstage were sweeping and arranging props in front of a huge painted backdrop that looked like a gigantic living room with a Christmas tree in the center. William was glad it had occurred to him to wear black, because all the rest of the crew were as well. Some dancers were on the edges of the stage, stretching while trying to stay out of the way. As William stood at the back of the auditorium, a whole horde of dancers flew past him. With a smile he noticed that they were beginning their warmup by jogging around the seats. He recognized Elizabeth by her cheerful knitted legwarmers and her small ponytail bouncing as she jogged. She hadn't seen him yet.
Carefully avoiding the dancers, William picked his way onto the stage and located Edward giving instructions from the side. "Hey there, Will," he said. "You can just come hang out over here with me and watch. Denny's in charge back here, he'll tell you what to do, but they won't need anything till the show starts, pretty much."
William found a stool and settled in to watch the goings-on. After a while the crew cleared the stage and the dancers filed on. Madeleine took her place at the front of the group and began to lead them in a warmup that looked a great deal like an ordinary ballet class. William noticed that the principal dancers - Nancy, Elizabeth, Brian, Eliana - didn't automatically stand at the front but instead blended with the rest of the corps. He liked them for that.
Eventually the dancers finished and began to gather their things to go down to the dressing rooms. As she left the stage and came into the wings, Elizabeth nearly collided with William.
"William!" she said in surprise. He noted with glee the little flush on her cheeks.
"Hi," he said as if he belonged there.
"What are you doing here?"
He grinned. This was going quite well. "Madeleine thought I should get a feel of what's going on behind the scenes," he said.
"Oh she did?" From Elizabeth's tone he guessed that Madeleine had been doing a bit of matchmaking at that end as well. "So you're going to stay backstage?"
"Yeah."
Suddenly her eyes widened and she paled just a little. "On this side?"
"Yes." What on earth was the matter with her? "What's wrong with this side?"
"Nothing," Elizabeth said hastily. To cover her discomfort she pulled the elastic out of her hair and began finger-combing it. It fell in shining light brown waves over her shoulders, and William found himself momentarily distracted. "Anyway, I have to go downstairs," she said and headed for the stairwell.
Why shouldn't I be on this side? he wondered. Maybe it would be more crowded over here. . . ? But Edward had told him to stay there, and Andrew Denny had confirmed it. He decided that Elizabeth must be making her entrances from this side, and that therefore his presence here would most serve the desired purpose. He stayed.
At about seven-thirty they lowered the curtain and he heard the audience taking their seats. Andrew began to give the dancers' calls into the headset. "Fifteen minutes," he called, and then, "ten," and finally, "Dancers onstage for Act One."
Looking across the stage William could see a lot of children in beautiful period party costumes lining up. The orchestra began to play the overture. Adult dancers filed into his side of the wings. After a moment he managed to spot Elizabeth, resplendent in a long dress of dark blue satin. Instead of pointe shoes the dancers wore heels, and Elizabeth's hair was braided in some intricate pattern instead of the usual bun. Despite the oddity of her stage makeup, she was beautiful. And she was very carefully ignoring him. Just as well, because the dancers were being conscientiously quiet.
Finally the curtain rose. The children entered first, and were greeted with the burst of applause that usually greets the first entrance. When the adults finally skipped onstage for the party scene, William was mesmerized by the difference the lights made. Backstage the makeup looked strange, with overdone eye shadow, bright red lipstick, and mysterious black lines coming out of the eyes. On stage they were beautiful. Elizabeth played no particular role in this section, just an adult at the party, and she executed the movements of the group dance with a beaming smile. William supposed (correctly) that she enjoyed sometimes just being part of the group.
After a few minutes he managed to forget to stare at Elizabeth and enjoy the ballet. The story unfolded - Herr Drosselmeier, little Clara's godfather, stalked onstage to present his gifts. Adam Carlisle, City Ballet's director himself, was suitably intimidating in his yearly role. The little girl playing Clara (who was probably about fifteen, in reality) actually looked a bit nervous. The soldiers and the dolls danced (William recognized Kitty Bennet, in heavy makeup, as one of the dolls), the Nutcracker was presented to Clara, it was broken, Drosselmeier tried to fix it, everyone left the party, and dancers came rushing into the wings. Elizabeth flew past William too fast for him to tell her how good she had been, but he understood why in a moment. Already on stage the battle was beginning between the mice and the soldiers. The Mouse King battled the Nutcracker come to life - and suddenly Elizabeth was beside him in a long white net skirt and tight bodice. A delicate crystal snowflake was pinned into her hair, and she was bent over furiously tying her pointe shoes. All around him other dancers were doing the same. When she straightened up she was breathing heavily. He forgot to make her nervous about him and reached out rub her back companionably. She jumped at his touch, and he realized with a little smile that he had managed it without even trying. She relaxed after a moment, though, and gave him a small smile before moving closer to the stage. He thought she was avoiding him, but then the music changed and she stepped on stage.
The snow ballet was hypnotizing. A light fall of fake snow fell from the - what were they called? - the flies, above the stage. The corps, of which Elizabeth was a part, fluttered about the stage like so many tiny snowflakes. Their crystal headpieces caught and reflected in Jane's many-times-fractured lighting. A pair of dancers named Andrea Corelli and Steven Hartwick made a stunning Snow King and Queen, floating among the corps in glittering white costumes trimmed in light blue. William began to feel that he might really learn to love the ballet.
All too soon the snow scene, and the first act, ended. The principals stepped in front of the closed curtain to take their bows. William couldn't see, but he heard the encouraging roars of applause - for Carlisle, first, then little Rachel, then Patrick Arnold as the Nutcracker/Cavalier, then Andrea and Steven. They all came backstage flushed with the pleasure of a good opening-night reception and ran back to the dressing rooms to change for the second act.
The crew rushed about, changing lights and moving out the snow scenery to bring in an enormous throne for Clara to sit on as she watched the international variations in the second act. William watched with furrowed brow as costumes were brought up and left in the wings, draped over costume racks and bits of unused scenery. "What's all that?" he asked a young dresser as she stood beside him.
"Quick changes," she replied.
"Excuse me?"
"Dancers with little or no time to change costumes between variations," she explained. "They don't have time to run all the way downstairs, so we dress them up here."
"Right out in the wings?" he asked.
She grinned. "Modesty has no place in the ballet, you'll learn that soon enough." She turned her attention back to the costumes. "Those are the Spanish ones, put them over here," she instructed. William's ears pricked up at this; he knew Elizabeth was dancing the Spanish variation.
"They have to come straight off from being angels," the dresser called to the stage hands. "Make sure all Elizabeth's hooks are undone, she has about nine seconds to get all that on."
William stared at the innocent-looking black net costume and realized why Elizabeth had reacted so strongly to his being in the wing. He began to wonder who was really going to be most affected by his presence - her, or him?
Part XIV
Posted on Sunday, 2 January 2000
As William stood gaping at the costume racks, Andrew Denny called for the dancers to be on stage. He very carefully did not look at Elizabeth as she flew past him and onto the stage in a long white robe trimmed in gold. She and a few other older dancers rounded out the children's corps as angels. They left early so that they could all change for their variations.
Brian came off first because he needed shoes changed; William saw him run off into the other wing and vanish into a back corner with two dressers.
By the time William realized that Elizabeth was no longer on stage, she came flying into the wing pulling a white headpiece out of her hair as she ran. Before her dressers could get to her she had already reached around and pulled down the zipper of her robe. William hastily looked away to allow her some privacy - he had planned to unnerve her, but he really didn't think that should extend to voyeurism.
"Help!" he heard someone yell after a moment. "Theresa! My shoe is stuck!"
"Oh, d-mnit!" Elizabeth's dresser exclaimed. "I'm coming, Eli - are you all right here, Liz?"
"I'll manage," Elizabeth responded hastily. "Go."
William turned around very carefully to see Elizabeth's dresser running off to help Eliana with the knot on her shoe. Elizabeth stood with her back to him. She was decent, but her costume was unhooked. She stood leaning forward slightly, reaching both hands around to try to hook the bodice without seeing it. The action made her shoulder blades stand out and every muscle in her upper back flex - not to mention the fact that the bodice was open to her waist. William gulped. He knew this part of the music, and knew that she had less than a minute to be onstage.
Oh, dear. "Elizabeth?" he whispered.
She turned around, still clutching the back of her costume. "William?" she asked, squinting into the darkness.
"Do you need some help?"
She fought once more with a hook, then looked quickly at the stage - obviously weighing her options. "Okay," she said finally. She backed up to him. "They're hooks and eyes," she explained hurriedly. "Make sure you get them all, otherwise it'll pop open while I'm dancing."
"Right." Good Lord. Trying desperately to ignore the expanse of white skin before his eyes, William sought out the first matching pair of hook and eye. At first he tried to hook her without actually touching her, but he soon found that this did not work. In fact, the only way he could manage the hooks was to lean both hands against her back above the hook in question - on bare skin, in other words - to pull the bodice together.
At one point it didn't seem to close. "It's supposed to be tight," Elizabeth whispered anxiously. "Just pull - hurry!"
Just pull. Okay. With a great effort to seem professional he slid both hands around her waist from the front to the back, pulling the sides of the bodice with him. This did indeed make it easier to close. He finally hooked the last hook right under her shoulder blades and quickly brushed his hand over her upper back. "Done," he said quietly.
She flung both arms over her head, and he thought she was going to smack him until he saw the black beaded contraption in her hands. From somewhere nearby she pulled several hair pins and hurriedly attached the beaded thing to her hair. He watched, fascinated, as she shook her head to make sure the headpiece was secure, then stretched in every direction to test the costume hooks, then bent down to make sure her shoe ribbons were tied. "Thanks," she whispered to him as she ran to take her place. Her face was definitely flushed under the makeup, and he knew she was wondering how much he had seen as she whipped the angel costume over her head and pulled on the Spanish one. He certainly wasn't going to tell her that he had looked away - honor had prevented him from spying on her, but it wasn't going to prevent his letting her think that he had!
When she was finally on stage and out of range, he let out the breath he had been holding. Way to go, self-control. He rubbed his face with his hands and silently thanked all the benevolent gods that he hadn't yielded to the temptation to touch her - more than was necessary, anyway - or to stroke her hair, or even to drag her off into a corner of the wing and kiss her. There was no denying that was what he really wanted to do.
"Theresa," he whispered to the dresser as Elizabeth and Brian's music started, "does Elizabeth have to change in the wings again?"
"Not this time," she whispered back. "Between this and marzipan she can make it back down to the dressing room."
Thank God. He didn't think he could handle that again.
If Elizabeth had indeed been affected by his presence in the wing, she had shaken it off by the time she began her variation. Or perhaps not. . . he would have said that she performed more beautifully than ever, but perhaps more seductively - and perhaps that was not a coincidence after all.
She and Brian finished quickly (the Spanish variation, though not the shortest, was quite short) and took brief bows to thunderous applause. When Elizabeth came off she had time to stand a moment and watch the beginning of Eliana's variation while catching her breath.
"You looked good," William whispered. You looked good? That's the best you could come up with?
She hesitated a moment before replying under her breath, "Thanks." Their eyes met in the dim light from the stage - then she looked away, checked the ribbons on her shoes, and hurried back down to the dressing room. William watched the dark doorway long after she had disappeared through it.
By the time the energetic Russian music had finished, Elizabeth was beside him again. She was with five other dancers, all in long net skirts of dark blue with silver trim. Across the wing he saw little Portia Lazarre in a matching costume but with a short tutu instead of a skirt, ready for her first solo with the ballet. She looked nervous. He tried to catch her eye to offer an encouraging smile, but before she looked his way the music started and she had to go. The marzipan variation was done to the Dance of the Reed Flutes and had light, skipping steps to match the music. The corps moved as one in this piece, and William marveled at their perfect synchronization. He noticed, however, that even when they all danced exactly together he could still tell Elizabeth by the way she moved. He wondered if that was because of his infatuation or if everyone could recognize her as well. Despite her nervousness, Portia's solo was lovely. His newly acquired eye for dance caught the fact that she almost fell out of a pirouette, but she caught herself and he didn't think anyone in the audience would have seen it.
She finished on the last little "plink" of the music with a huge smile on her face. He had to laugh - when she came into the wing the first thing she did when out of the audience's view was hop up and down with both fists raised in the air over her head. "Good job," William whispered, and she beamed.
And then he turned around. For the love of. . . His eye had fallen on the one sight he had not expected to see again.
Elizabeth. Changing in the wings again. She had her costume on, at least the bottom part of it, and the top was pulled up just enough to be decent. She had her arms through the straps already, but the bodice was unfastened and hung off her body, exposing her sides all the way down to the hips and an almost-but-not-quite-indecent amount of her chest. She was not looking at him, and she was basically decent, so no honor or embarrassment interfered. He found himself staring shamelessly. He had never noticed before that you could actually see her ribs through the skin of her back. Funny how she never looked like she was unusually thin - or maybe he'd been around dancers for too long. Theresa, the dresser, tugged at Elizabeth's hair and Elizabeth turned around to face the stage. William gasped. On that side she had an enormous black-and-blue bruise in the perfect shape of a handprint, cutting right across her ribs.
On stage, the little children who lived under Mother Ginger's skirt were running back under it to make their exit. Theresa and Elizabeth's movements became faster, more panicked, and William understood that she needed to be on. He made a snap decision. After all, I already did it once. He ran over while Theresa was focused on the headpiece and took the two sides of Elizabeth's bodice in his hands. "Same as the other one?" he asked.
Elizabeth was too flustered already by her lateness to be further flustered by him. "Same hooks," she confirmed. By now he was an expert. She held her breath in and he attached one hook after another rather efficiently. The top ones were difficult because she had her arms up trying to help attach flowers to her hair, but he managed it anyway. With his help she was actually ready before the introduction to the Waltz of the Flowers music. She whispered to him as he tugged at the last hook that she wasn't on until the burst of waltz music further on in the piece.
"There," he whispered. "Done." He could feel her tenseness and nervousness, and he acted on autopilot for a moment without considering his actions. He brought both hands up from the hooks to her two shoulders and held them for a second, leaning in over her shoulder to whisper, "You're beautiful. You'll be great."
There was a bit of silence between them, and he thought he could feel that she was holding her breath. After a moment she covered one of his hands with one of hers, then released him and stepped closer to the stage. The music swelled and began the familiar waltz, and Elizabeth spun into the center of the corps. Even while he was hooking it for her, it had been too dark for William to see her costume well. It was a very light pink, lighter than the mauve skirts of the corps. Little flowers with some shiny stuff on them sparkled from her hip and shoulder and from the little wreath in her hair. She performed some terribly difficult-looking spinning maneuver that ended with her pulling in her extended leg and spinning numerous times on one foot. The audience clapped appreciatively.
At one point she was moving in formation with the corps and found herself looking for a moment into his wing. He caught her eye and smiled encouragingly, and he could swear her stage smile widened. Theresa stepped closer to him and whispered, "Isn't she gorgeous!"
Which reminded him. "You said she wasn't changing up here anymore," he whispered.
She shook her head. "I said, not the next time. And she didn't. This was the change after that."
He had the nasty feeling she knew what she was doing.
The Waltz of the Flowers was long - very, very long. William was amazed at Elizabeth's ability to keep her energy going for such a long time, especially when called upon to perform rather difficult solo combinations. Toward the end he saw Nancy creeping into the wing, glowing in her pink and white Sugar Plum Fairy costume. A beaded tiara sparkled from her hair, and someone had brushed glitter across her bare shoulders. She looked nervous. Patrick Arnold had not yet joined her, and she was hopping up and down in agitation. William crossed silently to her side and kissed her cheek. "Are you going on now?" he asked.
"Yeah," she whispered back, clutching his hand gratefully. "I've been on before, of course, but this is our big pas de deux, and then my solo."
"Is it hard?"
"There are a lot of lifts," she replied. "More than anything I'm afraid we'll fall on one of them."
Patrick slipped in beside them, wearing white pants and a velvet jacket that picked up the darker highlights in Nancy's bodice. William gave Nancy's shoulders a quick rub and turned her over to Patrick. The two took hands, preparatory to making their big entrance.
The Waltz of the Flowers concluded. Elizabeth took a long, deep bow as the Dew Drop Fairy (at last he knew what that was) and ran offstage. She paused as she passed Nancy and whispered, "Merde," kissing her on both cheeks. Then she stepped out of the way as the deep, stirring pas de deux music started and Nancy and Patrick stepped onstage.
Elizabeth stood off to the side, watching them, close to William. "'Merde?'" he asked. "Isn't that French for -"
"Yup," she said cheerfully. "But you know, it's bad luck to tell someone 'good luck' in the theatre, and you really don't want to say 'break a leg' to a dancer because, you know -"
"She might," William supplied.
"Right. So someone came up with 'merde.' It's just what you say."
"Ah." Thank God for normal conversation.
Fortunately for him, Nancy and Patrick proved so absorbing that he and Elizabeth could stand beside each other without talking and not feel strange. There were indeed a lot of lifts, dangerous-looking ones, but they didn't fall or even falter. Patrick's solo was an impressive combination of impossible spins and gravity-defying jumps. Nancy was, as ever, beautiful. They were met with roars of applause from the opening-night audience, and came offstage flushed and happy.
After that came the finale, and Elizabeth had to run back onstage. When it was all over and Clara had left the Land of Sweets, the wings filled with dancers congratulating each other and rejoicing that the difficult first night was over. Elizabeth brushed past William on her way downstairs, and reappeared only moments later in jeans and a thermal shirt with her makeup washed off. Her eyes met William's across several other people. He didn't know what to do.
"Congratulations," he called finally. "It was great."
She carefully wound her way through the sea of people to his side. "Thanks for your help," she said. Her brow was furrowed as if she wanted to say something else, but she bit her tongue.
Um. . . Feeling that under the circumstances it might be all right, he held out his arms. She hesitated only a moment before hugging him back, with a broad smile. He stroked the back of her hair. "No problem," he said. "You were wonderful."
"Thanks." She was blushing now, but still smiling. "Are you coming to the cast party?"
"There's a party? Aren't you all tired?"
Elizabeth laughed and shook her head. "No, we're all high on adrenaline."
"Well in that case. . ." he laughed. "Actually, I'd better get home to Georgiana. She'll be waiting up to hear about everything."
"Are you bringing her to the ballet?" Elizabeth asked to cover her disappointment.
"Next week," he said. He gently cupped the side of her face with one hand. "I'll see you tomorrow."
Halfway to the door he turned back to see her looking after him. She smiled and waved, but she couldn't hide the look on her face. Longing. He turned around so she wouldn't see him grinning. Chalk one up for William Darcy.
Part XV
The week flew by after the excitement of opening night. On December 23 William brought Georgiana to see The Nutcracker, having regaled her with stories about his experience backstage - leaving out, of course, the part where he had helped dress Elizabeth. He was afraid he might lose it when she whispered, "How on earth do they change so fast?" when Elizabeth and Brian reappeared for the Spanish variation only seconds after leaving the stage in other costumes.
"They change in the wings," he said, glad his sister couldn't see his face in the dark. "They have dressers."
"Oh." He thought he heard a bit of suspicion in her tone, but maybe he was just being paranoid.
On the 24th neither of them left the house; they were far too busy decorating and getting ready for the party. Mrs. Reynolds, the steady housekeeper, was in the kitchen baking Christmas cookies and polishing the little-used wine glasses for William's friends. He was as strict on Christmas as on the other days of the year, and none of Georgiana's underage friends would be served alcohol at his house. She, and they, knew better than to argue.
Georgiana herself was absent as William hung the strings of white lights on the Christmas tree. "I knew we should have done this before Christmas Eve," he muttered to himself as the lights tangled around his feet. "Ana! I need some help here."
Georgiana reappeared with a suspicious-looking white paper bag and a handful of tacks. "Be there in a sec," she said. "I just need to hang this up." She waved the bag at him cheerfully.
"What's that?"
She grinned mischievously and pulled a sprig of greenery out of the bag. "Mistletoe."
His eyes narrowed. "Ana. . ."
"William," she said firmly, "you cannot have a Christmas party without mistletoe."
"I thought that was illegal in this state. I saw it on the news. It's poisonous."
"Then don't eat it." Georgiana climbed on top of a stool and then jumped down again. "No, the middle of the room is too obvious. We want to catch people by surprise." She surveyed the room with a critical eye. "There, right next to that beam. That way it can only be seen from a certain angle."
He grinned despite himself. "Georgiana, you are devious."
"That's why you need me," she said, smirking.
Uh-oh. "Excuse me?" he said.
She gave him an innocent smile back. "Nothing. I just think you might be in need of my services for this little party of yours."
"And why would I need your services, madam?"
She raised her eyebrow. "Now, come on. If you really want to catch her by surprise. . ."
"Ana!"
She grinned. "If I were you, I'd start working on my plan now. Before people start arriving and distract you."
He put on an expression of wronged innocence. "I have no idea what you're talking about."
"Oh, sure," she said. "What time do you expect Elizabeth?"
"About ten-thirty," he said, then quickly added, "with the others from the ballet."
She hopped up on her stool and hung the mistletoe securely from the ceiling in the crook of the beam. "I hope you're ready."
He stared at her with disbelief. "Do your friends let you do this to them?"
She only grinned.
The party itself was a smashing success, more so than any other year. William attributed this correctly to the presence of the fun-loving ballet people - the ones, that is, who didn't actually need to be at the performance. Jane's lights were run by a technician, so she was there, along with Charles and Caroline. Caroline had somehow not yet gotten the message that William would never be attracted to her, and was trying her best to engage him in conversation and to put down the other women in the room. Charles distracted her as much as he could, but most of the time he was busy with Jane. Which was, William decided, as it should be. The other producers were there as well, and Susan Phillips. Madeleine was backstage tonight. Surprisingly, Mary Bennet had come with Sean Arnold (George Wickham's replacement). Several of Georgiana's friends had begged some time off from family gatherings, and they clustered in a corner. William remembered that feeling quite well from his parents' parties when he was younger - feeling quite grown-up to be at an adult party with people from the business, but too intimidated to mix much with them. She would get over it eventually.
At almost exactly ten-thirty the doorbell rang again, and Mrs. Reynolds admitted a whole group of performers and stage crew. William hadn't invited the entire ballet, only those he knew, but that in itself was a large number. Almost all of the principals were there, since he knew them (and their various injuries) quite well, along with Edward and Madeleine and a few others. Elizabeth came in slightly behind Nancy and Brian. He gasped softly, knowing that she couldn't hear him from all the way across the room. Her hair was still pinned up in its intricate pattern of braids, and her dark green blouse and black skirt made her look like some sort of a forest queen. He ran to greet his guests, and their eyes met. She smiled. He smiled back, remembering his plan. He knew it was good. Very good.
Nancy, who had no feelings for him and therefore didn't suffer from shyness, greeted him with a hug. "Hi, Nance," he said with a broad smile.
"Where's this sister I keep hearing about?" she asked.
Perfect. "Over here," he said, pulling Nancy toward Georgiana. On the way he paused briefly to point out the crowd of high school kids - and paused her directly under the mistletoe.
Mr. Lucas, always to be counted on, called out, "William, Nancy!" and pointed upward with a big smile on his face. "You two are the first of the evening. Well, go ahead!"
William turned to Nancy with a smile and said, "It is Christmas."
"Indeed it is, Dr. Darcy." She leaned in for what she probably expected to be a very short, chaste kiss. He surprised her by kissing her rather energetically and for several moments. When they finally broke apart, everyone cheered.
"That's enough of that," Brian said in a joking tone. "Come along, my errant lover."
Everyone laughed. William snuck a quick look at Elizabeth. The expression on her face was unreadable, but she didn't look pleased. Good.
Georgiana looked baffled. He winked at her.
After that little interlude, William returned to Elizabeth. "Hey," he said as if nothing had happened. "Georgiana's desperate to talk to you again."
Elizabeth smiled, covering up her confusion. "I'm glad to see her."
He led her over to his sister - carefully avoiding the mistletoe - and stood with them talking for several minutes. After a while they were joined by Charles and Jane, and passed a pleasant quarter of an hour. At that point William decided he had been neglecting his plan and excused himself. Taking a quick look around the room, he determined that Andrea Corelli was closest to being under the mistletoe. He casually joined in her conversation with Brian and Nancy, waiting for someone to notice.
Surprisingly, Andrea herself did. "Oh, Lord," she said, suddenly laughing. "Dr. Darcy, look." She stood on tiptoe and kissed him quickly - or at least she tried. He responded by kissing her back and not releasing her for several seconds. This time when he glanced at Elizabeth he saw - amusement? Was he caught? Had she worked out his plan so quickly? He couldn't be quite sure.
He was fairly sure, however, when he tried it the next time with Eliana. The look on Elizabeth's face was unmistakable. She smiled at him knowingly, eyebrows narrowed. He decided it was definitely time for the last part of the plan.
"Aren't you popular this evening?" she said when he rejoined her and Jane.
"What can I say?" he said, lifting his wine glass. "I'm in demand."
"Sure," she said sarcastically.
Jane laughed, and he replied, "Don't blame me, Georgiana hung the stuff."
At that moment Andrea called from across the room, "Elizabeth, come here for a minute!" Elizabeth headed over to the group of her friends, and William followed to put into action the next phase of his plan.
Fortuitously Andrea's crowd was standing very near the mistletoe, and when Elizabeth stopped she was right under it. Easy as pie. William would almost have suspected her of doing it on purpose except that she hadn't even glanced up. He joined her, trying not to look deliberate.
"William," Brian said slyly, "are you aware of where you're standing?"
William gave Andrea a mock-lecherous glance. "I'm standing across from the most beautiful woman in the world."
Brian laughed. "Actually, you're standing next to Elizabeth, and both of you are, surprise surprise, under the mistletoe."
William glanced up, feigning shock. "So we are." He turned to Elizabeth, heart beginning to thud. Here we go. "Tradition calls, Miss Bennet."
She gave him an I-know-exactly-what-you're-up-to look. Oh, Elizabeth, but you don't. "I suppose it does, Dr. Darcy," she said.
He grinned and reached around, putting his hand on the small of her back. She smiled in response, a little nervously, and leaned in closer. He bent his head ever so slightly - and pecked her lips briefly before releasing her and stepping away. Take that.
He smiled into her upturned face. She looked surprised, and not altogether happy. Her glance flicked toward Andrea, then Nancy. Then she got it. Her lips pursed and her eyebrows knitted together, and she nodded almost imperceptibly. A grudging acknowledgment. Score. It felt good to be ahead. He really must try to do it more often.
But then there was that nasty niggling feeling that now it was her turn. Hmm.
And from the look on her face, it was not going to be pretty.
He was distracted, though, by a cry from Georgiana: "It's snowing!" He glanced over, and indeed the first snow of the season had arrived.
"We can all go out onto the sun porch and watch it," William suggested. "It's enclosed in glass, so we won't be too cold." Everyone agreed enthusiastically and they rushed onto the porch to wonder like children at the soft whiteness.
It really was a perfect snow. Large flakes, cotton ball sized, floated at the perfect slow speed from a sky so white it almost looked like daytime. They landed without sound on the fields and covered bushes and tree branches with a gentle lace veil. The party fell silent in reverence, and everything was perfectly still. This was William's favorite thing about the winter.
He turned suddenly and caught sight of Elizabeth standing at one corner of the porch, so that the snow was almost all around her. She was a bit apart from anyone else, and was staring positively motionless at the scene. She was completely in a world of her own. As he watched, she took a breath so deep that her chest heaved. Her face contorted in the odd expressions of someone trying not to cry, and he stared in wonder. What on earth could have upset her?
He crossed to her side quietly, trying not to be noticed by the other guests. "Everything all right?" he asked softly.
She looked up, surprised, and nodded. He saw small tears glistening in her eyes and asked, "Are you sure?"
She laughed shortly and nodded. "Yeah. It's just -"
"What?"
She frowned, trying to find the right words. "Have you ever - seen something so perfect that it makes your chest ache?"
Her dark blue eyes drew him in. "Yes," he said almost in a whisper.
She gestured out at the snow. "It's completely beautiful. Like a scene from a movie, those old ones where the scenes were fake so they were perfect. Too good to be true."
"Very true," he said.
She was quiet for a moment, then said, "William?"
His heart sped up. "Yes?"
She looked around to make sure that no one else was within earshot. "I know I wasn't supposed to hear about it, but. . ." She trailed off. What on earth was she talking about?
"Yes?" he said, trying to sound encouraging.
"I'm sorry, but - I have to - thank you."
Huh? "Thank me?" Suddenly it hit him. Oh.
She couldn't meet his eyes. "For what you did for my sister." She glanced up and saw the look on his face. "Don't blame Madeleine; she only told me the details. I heard from Lydia herself that you had been at her wedding, and then I asked Madeleine what had happened, because I knew Jane had received the first message by way of her. So - thank you. For my whole family," she rushed on, "because I haven't told them, so they don't know it was you that made it all happen."
"Elizabeth," he said carefully, "don't thank me for your family. I didn't do it for them." An odd look came into her face and he added quickly, "I've never met them, remember? I felt responsible for Lydia."
The look was gone. "Because of George." He could almost see her thinking, not because of me.
"Yes, because of George." He could afford to give her some assurance, he decided. "And because you were so upset, and I knew it was at least partly my doing." She opened her mouth to protest, and he covered it with his hand. "I know what you're going to say, but don't fight me on this one." Behind his hand she nodded.
"Okay," he said. He took his hand away and smiled. "I think we both could use another glass, don't you?"
Part XVI
By the time William returned with two full wineglasses Elizabeth had recovered her composure. She took the glass from him with a grateful smile, but did not as he had expected bring up the subject of their recent conversation. As he was deciding what to do next they were approached by Sean Arnold, the new accompanist since George's departure. He smiled a lot and asked Elizabeth to dance with him, as several couples were already taking advantage of the music and large open floor. Elizabeth opened her mouth, then closed it again and looked from William to Sean. "Sure," she said finally, and smiled a little too broadly. William watched with some distress as Sean led her to the floor and they took up dance position. Did I go too far? He thought she understood how he felt - he had thought that she. . .
She and Sean danced close, closer than one would dance with a new acquaintance. Well, of course they must know each other rather well; Sean had been playing for rehearsals for quite some time. He said something, and Elizabeth laughed.
But their recent conversation, about the snow, and Lydia. . .
Sean looked up, and gestured that they were under the mistletoe. Elizabeth grinned and stood on her toes to kiss him - not a long kiss, but good enough. He smiled warmly in response. The look on his face was - intimate. They danced, looking straight into each other's eyes. Not good.
Mercifully, the music stopped and they broke apart - rather slowly, William thought. Sean moved away momentarily, and William took his chance. He crossed to Elizabeth's side and said quietly, "What is it with you and accompanists?"
She looked hurt for a moment, and he realized with a stomach jolt that a reference to Wickham was a low blow. She recovered, however, with a rather sharp, "I don't know - maybe the same thing that's with you and every dancer in the company."
"Now that's not fair."
"Isn't it?" Her eyes blazed at him as they had on that day on the stage, and he almost covered his face reflexively. "Maybe I was looking at the wrong rich doctor back there then."
This was not going well. He had certainly succeeded in getting her riled up, but. . . "Listen, Elizabeth -"
"No, you listen," she returned. "I thought - well never mind what I thought. But I have as much a right to dance with Sean Arnold, or anyone else, as you have to play your little games with the mistletoe, all right?"
His mouth very nearly fell open. "Do you mean to say that you only danced with him. . ."
Her eyes narrowed and she turned her head sharply toward him. "You opened that door yourself, didn't you?"
Well, he couldn't argue with that. "Okay," he said.
"Okay?"
"You're right," he said simply. "There's been enough messing around."
Now he had her attention. Before he suspected she hadn't heard a word he said in between her own attacks, but now she was listening. She faced him straight on, chin lifted to look right at him. "What are you saying?"
What am I saying? "You win," he said finally.
"What?"
He sighed. "Can we. . ." He gestured toward the door to the library. After a moment's hesitation, she walked out ahead of him.
She took several steps into the library before turning on her heel to face him. "Well?" she asked boldly, but he could see the nervousness in her face. They both knew the time had come.
He pushed the library door shut. "Well, what?" he responded. "You heard me. You win."
"You mean. . ."
She trailed off, and he slowly crossed to her side. "I mean, I'm officially giving in, and telling you that -" Here goes. "- that I've been in love with you from the first second I saw you. That I can't stop looking at you. That I look for you when you're not there. That everything I have done was for you. And that much as I have deeply enjoyed this little game. . ." He sidled closer. ". . . that I'm beginning to think losing might be rather nice. . ."
Her face underwent several changes throughout this speech. Shock certainly, at first. Then disbelief. She couldn't have known that his feelings were so strong. Then, ever so small but definitely there, the beginnings of a smile. Then - absolute fear. By that time he was only a foot away, and her face was positively frozen.
"Oh," she said. She didn't seem to have the power of saying anything else.
"What's this?" he asked teasingly. "Elizabeth Bennet, speechless? It can't be true."
He knew that he was too close for comfort, that his nearness was unsettling her. And he was loving every minute. She swallowed and met his eyes.
"I, um. . ." Her eyebrows lifted and her mouth opened and closed, searching for the words. Finally she broke into a self-conscious smile. William decided words were unnecessary. He understood.
He took a step closer, reaching around to take hold of her. With one hand at the small of her back, he gently drew her toward him. He noticed with a little smile that her eyebrows lifted when she was unsettled. She looked at him with open, wide-eyed nervousness, as if she couldn't meet his eyes but couldn't bring herself to look away either. Himself, he wasn't nervous. There was no room for it - his whole being was concentrated on acting. He barely noticed the feeling in the pit of his stomach. With his free hand he took hold of her chin between his fingers and lifted it slightly. She gasped and her chest lifted with short, shaky breaths. He brought his other hand around from her back and stroked the side of her face, brushing back the odd strands of hair. She lifted her face a fraction of an inch, then lowered it again. They both leaned in, with the uncertain movements of a long-awaited first kiss. Both leaned closer, then pulled back slightly as if reconsidering, then leaned forward again. His hand on her chin finally took control, and held her still. He leaned closer, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. He could feel her breath on his lips, could feel her absolute stillness. He leaned in the last tiny distance, and felt her shoulders tense up with feeling as his lips finally brushed hers.
He was careful not to push her, and kept the kiss light, slow and gentle. After a few seconds he drew back, waiting for her reaction. He didn't open his eyes. She leaned forward and kissed him again, and that was all the answer he needed. He sighed happily as he felt her hand at the side of his face, her fingers twined lightly in his hair. Too good to be true. . . His pulse pounded in his head. The kiss deepened. Suddenly, she pulled away. He looked at her expectantly.
She raised an eyebrow. "Now, do you really think that's going to make up for what you've put me through?"
He matched her expression. "I'd say it was rather mutual, sweetheart."
"All the same. . ."
"In that case - yes, I was hoping it would. Was I wrong?"
She considered that briefly. "No."
He laughed, and kissed her again.
"Wait. . ." She pushed away again firmly. "I'm not too low-class, then?"
"Certainly not."
"Not a poor, plain slob who can't find a date?"
"That was rude of me, and obviously I hadn't seen you yet."
"Well, all right." She smiled and hugged him tightly, letting her head rest on his chest.
He smiled to himself and rubbed her back gently. "Dearest Elizabeth," he said softly.
He felt her laugh in his arms. "Did you really knock George unconscious?"
"Of course not." She smacked him lightly. "Okay, yes."
She laughed outright at that, and he kissed her forehead gratefully. He held her close, relishing her gentle smell, and whispered, "We should be getting back."
"Probably," she replied. She pulled away regretfully and said, "Well, Dr. Darcy - shall we?"
"We shall." He took her hand and led her back to the party.
That evening, having seen all his guests off and said a subdued goodbye to Elizabeth at the door, William sat alone in the darkened library. He found it difficult to think of anything else - his senses were full of Elizabeth. Her dark blue eyes like the ocean at night, the warmth of her embrace, the soft touch of her lips. . .
A sound made him turn. "Ana," he said in surprise. "I thought you'd gone to bed."
"I am, in a minute." She came and sat down across from him. "How'd it go?"
He blushed. "What?"
She grinned and settled back in her chair. "I saw you and Elizabeth sneak out. What happened?"
"Absolutely not."
"Oh, come on."
"No."
"Are you going out now?"
"Maybe." His happiness got the better of him and he grinned. "I think so."
She squealed with delight. "I knew it! So she knows you fixed Charles and Jane?"
"I think she understands."
"And. . . the other thing?"
"We talked about it."
Georgiana sighed and leaned her head back. "Are you going to marry her?"
He blushed again, even more deeply. "It's a bit early for that."
"Not necessarily." She smiled. "I would love for Elizabeth to be my sister."
He couldn't help but return her smile. "I'd like that too."
Part XVII
The next morning, after William and Georgiana had exchanged gifts and eaten breakfast together, he huddled over the phone book, combing the entries for Bennet and trying to decide whether he should. . .
"Call," Georgiana said as she passed him on her way to the refrigerator.
"How do you know that's what I'm doing?" he asked.
"Aren't you? Go on."
He sighed and picked up the phone. It had to be them; he remembered the name of the street her apartment was on. The phone rang three, four times. Idiot, they're at their parents' house. Then the phone was suddenly picked up.
"Hello?"
Figures. "Hi, Jane - Merry Christmas!"
Jane sounded reasonably surprised, telling William that Elizabeth had not told her sister what had happened between them. "William? Is that you? Thanks - Merry Christmas to you, too."
"Thanks, Jane. Um - is Elizabeth there?"
Jane paused for a moment. "Yeah, sure. Hold on. Oh, William - tell your sister Merry Christmas for me too." She put down the phone with a muffled thud and called in a far-away voice, "Lizzy! Phone!" There was a pause in which Elizabeth must have asked who it was, because Jane yelled back, "William!" After a second, Jane was back. "She's on her way," she said.
Some staticky sounds indicated that the phone was changing hands, and then Elizabeth said cheerfully, "Hello?"
"Elizabeth? Hi - um, Merry Christmas."
He could almost hear her smiling on the other end. "Merry Christmas to you and Georgiana."
"I'm glad you're here and not at your parents' house."
"Yes, well, we're going over there later this afternoon."
"All night?" he asked. God, William!
"No," she replied, not seeming to find the question strange at all. "We're having an early dinner at four, and Jane and I are usually home by six or so." Her question at the end of the sentence went unspoken, but he heard it (he hoped) anyway.
"Then if you're not too tired or anything, Georgiana and I would love to have you here in the evening." Please?
She paused, and when she spoke again her voice was soft and pleased. "I would like that."
"Great. You know, it'll just be a quiet evening - actually, we usually just sit around and watch TV."
She laughed. "Sounds great. Any particular time?"
"Eight?"
"I'll be there. I think Jane is going out anyway."
He hung up with an enormous smile on his face.
Elizabeth rang the doorbell at almost exactly eight o'clock. He couldn't know that she had agonized for hours over whether it would be all right to come in the same jeans and sweater she had worn all day. She finally decided that only an insane person would dress up to watch TV with a guy and his little sister, no matter how good-looking he might be.
"Hi," she said.
"Hi." Okay, now what? "Come in." He stepped aside to let Elizabeth through the doorway. As she entered, Georgiana came running from the living room.
"Hi, Elizabeth! Merry Christmas!" she cried.
Elizabeth smiled and relaxed visibly. "Hi, Georgiana. Merry Christmas."
William held out his arm. "Here, let me take your coat and then Georgiana can show you the living room - I don't think you were there last night."
"Probably not," Elizabeth agreed. She shrugged out of her overcoat and handed it to him with a shy smile, then followed Georgiana.
"So you're off today?" Georgiana asked as they walked.
"Yes. We never dance on Christmas. I think the idea is that not many people would come to watch anyway."
"True." By this time they had entered the family living room and William had caught up, having run from the foyer. He dispatched his sister to the kitchen to make tea and sat down on an armchair across from Elizabeth.
She smiled. "Cook have the day off?"
He knew she was kidding, so he played along. "No, she's just busy scrubbing pots. Her children will be joining her in the kitchen later."
She laughed, and he added, "She only comes in on weekdays and Sunday nights."
There was a moment of silence as each searched for something to say. Finally Elizabeth smiled wryly and said, "Merry Christmas."
His face was infused with genuine warmth, and he replied, "Merry Christmas, Elizabeth."
Their eyes met, and both laughed nervously at their situation. Finally he got up and moved to sit with her on the couch. They shared the brief and rather humorous (even to themselves) awkwardness of two people who know full well that they are about to kiss each other, but don't quite know how to start. Finally, William leaned forward and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close to kiss her. It occurred to him even as he did so that Georgiana was taking her time with the tea, and that he didn't mind at all.
They separated rather reluctantly, and Elizabeth laid her head on his shoulder. He sighed happily. He had been afraid for so many months that this would never happen, and being able to be here like this with her was the most he felt he could ask from life. Everything about her affected him on the deepest level - she was utterly perfect. Even when she was beating him up. He laughed a little at that, and she pulled away. "What?"
He only shook his head and laughed again. She smacked him lightly, which only made him laugh harder. At that moment, Georgiana returned.
"Don't tell me, I don't want to know," she said, setting down a tray of mugs. William silently thanked all the merciful gods that she hadn't come in any earlier.
They passed a pleasant evening, watching some terrible sentimental holiday movie made-for-TV and regaling Georgiana with ballet stories. William could see that his sister was very interested in anything that had to do with the company, and she lit up when Elizabeth suggested that she might come and work backstage.
"Or she could accompany, couldn't she?" William asked. "Would they take another rehearsal pianist?"
"They might," Elizabeth said, looking at Georgiana with interest. "Do you play?"
"She's incredible," William said before Georgiana could answer.
"Would you play for us now?" Elizabeth asked. Seeing William's expression, she knew it had been the right thing to say.
"What, now?" Georgiana said nervously.
"Why not?" Elizabeth returned. "You've seen me dance, haven't you? And your brother's seen a bit more than that," she added teasingly. Georgiana's eyebrows shot up.
"William?" she asked slyly.
He turned furiously red and shook his head. "Nothing. Play Elizabeth that piece you played for me this morning."
Georgiana sent him a knowing look, but she got up and went to the piano. "It's not really a piano piece," she said as she sat down. "It's part of Copland's Appalachian Spring."
"Perfect," Elizabeth said. "Did you know the ballet was doing Appalachian Spring this season? We have someone who's certified to recreate the Graham choreography."*
"No, I didn't know that," Georgiana replied. "But I'd like to see it." She turned to the piano and began playing the simple introduction to the piece, which built on the Shaker song "Simple Gifts." As the piece grew in intensity, Georgiana forgot her audience and bent slightly forward over the keyboard. Elizabeth watched in complete fascination, and William beamed proudly. She played for five minutes without pause, finally ending the piece on one gentle chord. There was a moment of dead silence, then Elizabeth broke into enthusiastic applause.
"That was great!" she exclaimed. "You should come down and talk to Mr. Carlisle. I'm sure he would hire you, if you really wanted to play at City Ballet."
Georgiana's face lit up. "Really?"
"I'm sure. You should come in with William sometime, while you're on vacation from school."
Georgiana seemed delighted with this idea. Not long after, she excused herself to go to bed - probably, William suspected, to leave him and Elizabeth alone. He couldn't say that he minded, but there was that peculiar nervousness again.
When she had gone they looked at each other for a moment. "She's a wonderful girl," Elizabeth said. "You have done well with her."
His pride was readily apparent. "Thank you."
"She's a bit shy, isn't she?"
He nodded. "Not with the family, but a bit with strangers. I mean, not that you're a stranger, but -"
She laughed. "I understand."
His expression changed. "Elizabeth, I can't tell you. . ."
"What?" She crossed the room and settled herself at his side.
He took her hand and pulled it into his lap, cradling it between both of his. "How -" He broke off again, and she leaned her head on his chest, knowing how difficult it was for him to talk about his feelings.
He looked down at her gratefully. "How glad I am that you're here. I've - wanted you so much. . ."
She cut him off with a gentle kiss, then smiled and settled again on his chest. "I know."
He pretended to smack her across the back of her head, ruffling her hair. "Oh, you do?"
She slipped her arms around him. "Yes."
"Well, good." He kissed the top of her head and stroked her hair lovingly. "Georgiana adores you, you know."
"I like her."
"I'm glad." He ran his hands absently over her back - which reminded him of something. "Elizabeth?"
"Hmm?"
"Where on earth did you get that bruise on your side?"
She sat up a little. "Which bruise?"
"The one shaped like a hand."
"Oh." She laughed. "Brian. I fell during rehearsal last week and he caught me pretty hard."
"He caught you across the ribs?"
"Well, it was better than letting me hit the floor from six feet up," she pointed out. "When your partner's falling, you catch whatever you can get your hands on. I've had handprints in far worse places."
"Oh, really?" he asked teasingly.
"Oh, yes," she replied in a similar tone.
"I don't know," he said, "that was a pretty nasty-looking bruise. Maybe I should check it out for you."
"Oh, you think so?"
"Definitely."
She smiled directly at him and delicately lifted one side of her shirt about halfway up, showing him the dark purple mark. He winced despite the teasing atmosphere, and she laughed. "It's not that bad."
"It looks it," he replied. His heart began to pound but he tried to remain casual as he ran his hand over the bruise.
"Well, Doctor?" she asked in a voice that was not her own. "What do you recommend?"
His eyes met hers. "Emergency first aid, most definitely."
"Oh, really?"
"Absolutely." He bent with painful slowness and gently kissed the mark on her ribs, feeling her warm skin against his lips. When he straightened up he saw that her cheeks were flushed. With a little smile he pulled her closer and bent his lips to hers.
*Appalachian Spring is music by Aaron Copland and original choreography by Martha Graham.
Part XVIII - The End
The next day when William walked into his office, he found Caroline Bingley waiting for him in the outer room. Oh, dear. "Hello, Caroline," he said politely.
She looked up, grim determination written all over her face. "William," she said firmly, "we need to talk."
He had no idea what to do. "All right," he said.
"Sit." He was so surprised at her order that he sat.
She faced him nervously but determinedly, knitting her hands together in her lap. "We need to talk, once and for all, about us."
"Caroline. . ."
"No, let me finish." She looked him straight in the eye. "You know how I feel about you. You know what I have to offer - my position in society, Charles's position at the ballet, my renown in the dance world, our family's refinement - and I know what you have to offer me. We're the same, William, you know we are. Once and for all, are you really going to choose that tramp Elizabeth Bennet over me? Because I swear if you ever see her again I will not be here when you want me. Once and for all, William, will you drop her?"
For once he had a ready answer. "Once and for all, no." At her look of shock he continued, "Caroline, there is no us. There has never been anything between us. Furthermore, Elizabeth is not a tramp. And furthermore, I love her. You and I have nothing more to discuss."
Caroline's face turned several interesting colors, but she had no choice. She said with all the dignity she could muster, "You're making a serious mistake, and someday you will realize what you have done." Then she left his office; he hoped forever.
He had been hoping that Elizabeth would come to see him. He was nervous in a rather pleasant way about what they would say to each other today and was looking forward to finding out, but when his door opened Nancy Rey entered instead. "Are you busy?" she asked.
"No one's been in all day," he said a bit ruefully.
"Good," she replied happily. "Then you can come and watch the video with us."
"What video?"
She leaned against the door frame. "Someone taped The Nutcracker the other night, and we're all gathering in the big studio to watch it on the TV/VCR. Are you coming?"
Well, he could see Elizabeth. "Sure."
Nancy beamed. "Great. Come on, everyone's assembling upstairs."
When he entered the room, he immediately locked eyes with Elizabeth. This was not such an unlikely occurrence as it might otherwise have been, because she looked anxiously toward the door as soon as she heard them coming. He offered a shy smile and she smiled in response, the broad smile of a private joke.
"There you are," Madeleine said happily, completely oblivious (or ignoring) the William-Elizabeth interaction. "Now we're only waiting for Susan."
William headed uncertainly in Elizabeth's direction. He didn't know whether she wanted to make their relationship public at this point, or whether she might prefer to be discreet at work. . . himself he would like to shout it from the stage, but he couldn't know Elizabeth's mind.
She answered his question for him by extending her hand. He took it and settled by her side, smiling happily down into her upturned face. Like many of the dancers, she was lying on her back preparing to watch the video.
As he sat, Nancy came and joined him. Quickly he realized that there was not quite enough room for her in the little space. Elizabeth saw this too, and solved the problem by moving backward and resting her head on William's lap. Out of her sight-line he beamed, sighed in absolute bliss, and stroked her hair gently. Nancy cleared her throat, and he saw her approving (and privately amused) grin. Across the room Charles whispered something to Jane and then gave William an enthusiastic thumbs-up.
The dancers seemed pleased with the performance as recorded, but to be honest William didn't remember much other than Elizabeth. As everyone stood to leave the room, William and Elizabeth were approached by Brian. He leaned over and whispered, "So are you two. . . ?"
William looked at Elizabeth, and she replied, "Yes." She tried to sound casual, but blushed furiously.
"Finally!" Brian exclaimed. At their surprised looks he added, "Come on, the whole company has known about you two for ages. You were the only ones that couldn't seem to figure it out."
Later, in his office (Elizabeth had some free time), they sat with the inner door closed discussing Brian's statement.
"You have to admit he was right," Elizabeth said.
"Probably," William agreed. He paused. "Elizabeth? When did you - you know. . ."
She sighed and eyed him thoughtfully. "Well. At the beginning. . ."
"You hated me."
"Not exactly." Their eyes met and she laughed. "Okay, yes. But I had to ask myself why I cared so much - I mean, why I spent so much energy hating you."
His tone dropped to dangerously intimate levels. "And why was that?"
She flushed. "Well let's face it, you're gorgeous." Delighted that she had made him blush as well, she continued. "But that first time, when you fixed my hand - the way you took care of it, the way you touched me - I could tell that you cared, even though you had just blasted us all." He blushed again at the memory. "Then," she continued, "then there was the way you kept brushing my hair back -" She stopped at the sight of his face. "You were trying, even then, weren't you?"
"Trying to do what?" he asked defensively, but he could tell she knew. "Well, not consciously," he amended. "I didn't realize. . . well, my turn next. You haven't answered my question yet."
"Well, then there was the Thanksgiving party. I was full of what George had said about you - God I'm an idiot -" He held her hand and she smiled and continued. "Right. So I was prejudiced against you already, but when we danced, well. . ."
He stroked the side of her face. "You're beautiful when you're bright red," he said.
She hit him. "I'm exposing my soul here, if you don't mind. Anyway, then I met Richard, and we fought on the stage. . ."
". . . And you beat me up."
"Did not."
"Did too."
"Anyway, then you told me about your sister, and I felt like a colossal idiot - and then I met her and she was so sweet - and then there was the flowers."
"How did you know. . . ?"
"Oh, you gave yourself away. That was when I realized that you . . . had feelings for me." He hadn't thought her face could possibly get any redder. "Then the next day, when you fixed my back - and the way you. . . well, and then there was Lydia. And you were so great. Whenever I think of all that - mess - I also think of sitting in your office with you, feeling for the moment like everything was going to be all right. And then you yelled at Caroline, and you fixed things with Charles and Jane - that was when I came and asked you to dinner with us. I asked because of the way you had taken my hand - that was when I knew."
"That long ago?" he accused.
She looked at him skeptically. "Are you telling me you didn't?"
"No."
They shared a smile, then she continued. "That was when - well, outside my apartment - I guess you know that kind of set the tone. And things just kind of fell into place from there."
"But Elizabeth, you still haven't answered my question."
She frowned. "But I -"
"You told me how you knew I was in love with you." At the word love she looked down at the table, a shy smile creeping over her lips. "But you didn't say when you first . . ." At last he was too shy to finish, but she understood.
"Backstage," she said after a moment's thought. "That was when I knew."
"Knew. . . ?"
"That you were worth fighting for. When you came to see me, and the roses and Georgiana and everything. That was when I realized that I had been wrong about you, and that if I wasn't careful I would fall completely in love. Then, the next day after you had left me at my parents' house, in the midst of all the mess with Lydia, I realized it was too late. I was already in love."
He couldn't hold back any longer and leaned over to kiss her. She drew away after a moment and said, "Your turn."
"Easy," he said. "The first time I saw you, in my office pale as death with blood all over your hands, I knew you were beautiful. The first time I saw you dance I knew I was in love, and when we danced together at the Thanksgiving party I knew there was no cure. Once I had been so close to you, and talked to you, I knew it wasn't just a - a crush. From then on I knew that somehow I had to overcome the way you felt about me."
She shoved him. "So you've been in love with me for over a month, and never told me?"
"You hated me!"
"Maybe I wouldn't have!"
"Are you mad?"
"Maybe!"
"You going to do something about it?" he challenged.
"Yes!" She didn't move.
He reached over and pulled her abruptly close to him, kissing her with such fervor that he would honestly have shocked anyone who chanced to enter the room.
When they separated he realized she had tears in her eyes. "What?" he asked, cradling her face in his hands.
She smiled through her tears. "I'm sorry I put you through hell."
"You didn't, darling. Anyway I deserved it."
"I love you," she said quietly. She had never said that before. He thought in a minute he might cry right along with her.
"Elizabeth," he said, his decision made, "There's something I want to discuss with you."
She sat up, trying to appear ready for discussion. "Go ahead."
He took a deep breath. "Okay. I know we've been together now for about forty-eight hours -"
"Not even," she interrupted.
"Right. But it's been longer than that if we're honest with ourselves, right? I mean, it's been quite a while since I would have looked at anyone but you." She nodded in silent agreement. "I think we know each other pretty well, don't you?"
"Yes."
"And - I love you."
She smiled and looked as if she might cry again. "I love you too," she said for the second time.
He took her hand. "So - I've given this a lot of thought, and I don't think it's too soon - Elizabeth -"
"Yes?" Her dazzling eyes met his.
"Will you marry me?"
She didn't answer.
"Elizabeth?"
No answer.
"I could get down on my knee, if you'd prefer. Elizabeth?"
Finally she met his gaze again. He could see the tears brimming again in her dark eyes. "William," she said at long last, "I love you more than I could ever describe, but. . ."
His heart sank. "But?"
"But why would you want to marry a twenty-three-year-old dancer? I mean, you're a doctor for heaven's sake. I was an English major. You couldn't even talk to me about your work, you couldn't. . ."
"Elizabeth," he said, holding her hand very tightly, "you are one of the most brilliant people I have ever known. And I am not looking for a surgeon, or a research partner - I'm looking for a wife. And I can't imagine being with anyone for the rest of my life but the woman I love more than anything - you."
She shook her head in defeat and collapsed in his arms. "Is that a yes?" he asked hopefully.
She laughed and brushed tears from her eyes. "That's a yes."
"Georgiana will be so excited."
She sat up abruptly. "Georgiana will?"
"Well, almost as much as I am."
"That's better." She kissed him deeply, and no one interrupted.
The End!
Thanks everyone!