Jump to new as of October 4, 1999
Chapter 1
"Glenfidich, please," he told, rather than asked the barkeep, and waited until drink was in hand and payment made before heading further into the pub, seeking an hour of peace, removed from annoyances trifling and distinct. His eyebrows rose as he heard a familiar sound, and with both spirits on the upswing, went in search of its source.
In a large side room he found not quite his panacea, but likely the closest he would get to one, and he seated himself a short distance from one of the pool tables strategically located for both ease of play and enjoyment of a private game. Realizing his presence was the sole intrusion upon that of a lovely young woman apparently sharpening her skills, he nearly spoke his apologies, but her deep concentration and total lack of awareness of him held his voice in check, and he watched as she considered the options before her. William leaned back, hands steepled, drink at elbow, and took in the jean-clad figure as she lightly held the cue, absently twirling it as she stared at the arrangement on the table.
To his surprise she called her shot, though in a quiet voice obviously meant only for herself, "Three ball, bank, corner pocket," tipping her head to the left. She leveled the cue, stroked once, twice, connected with the cue ball, executing perfect English, and white banked, kissed red, rebounding as the three ball sank serenely into its designated home, and the lady was left in the admirable position of having several further shots from which to choose.
Darcy nodded in approval, but was surprised by her reaction. She tapped stick against floor several times as she took a turn about the table, never raising her eyes from the green surface as she shook her head and frowned, seeming highly irritated. "Too easy, this won't help at all," she muttered, curling a lock of hair around a finger. Suddenly she brightened, and Darcy's interest was totally engaged now, wondering what she had seen.
She smiled as she said, "Five in the side, off the fourteen, you skunk!" and leaned across the table, right leg extended, in counterbalance to her left arm, and he thought it almost the pose of a dancer, her own arabesque, but she straightened, chalked the cue, and continued her private mutterings. He realized what she was doing, and dearly wished to interrupt, but knew he could not, at least not yet.
"Don't blow it now, Beth, I mean it, he's had it coming for far too long, just make the shot, will you? Do it already!"
Yes, Beth, make the shot, Darcy agreed silently, eyes eagerly upon her as she resumed her position, and he was all attention, as with a determined light in her eye she stood balanced on one foot, poised to strike. Once, twice, connect, the sound of impact reflecting the accuracy of centers meeting, object ball rolling a merry path sideways across the table, disappearing with a small satisfying sound as Beth remained in her stance, until finally she lowered her head and let out a breath in unison with Darcy.
She startled him then; she stood with a loud "Whoooeee! Yeess!! I'll get him!" cue still in hand as she twirled around in delight, the next second choking on a gasp of surprise and embarrassment as she saw the stranger with the smile on his face, and stopped dead in her dance.
Darcy kept his smile, and his seat as well, for he didn't want to put her even more on guard. "Well-played. May I offer my congratulations?"
A pause of some seconds followed, and Darcy held his breath again as he saw her thoughts reflected in the rapidly changing expressions on her face, but then her decision was made, and he was glad for it.
"Yes, you may. Care for a game?" and without waiting for his reply she took rack in hand and began the familiar ritual.
Darcy stood with a small smile, simply stating, "You'll break, of course," and she nodded her agreement. After introductions and a brief handshake Beth added, "Oh, be right back," and returned seconds later, with a smile and a Grolsch.
It was not long before Darcy's air of confidence was somewhat diminished. The game was now well under way, and their respective positions were equally advantageous; but the gentleman was learning that while the rules of the game were straightforward, quite simple even, in comparison to billiards (which he preferred), he had neglected to take into account a crucial point: regardless of the number of banks, the level of expertise shown, the choice of a more difficult play over an obvious shot - should he fail to make it, the lady placed no such gentlemanly sportsmanlike requirements upon herself, and more than once had made good use of his gift of positioning with no compunction whatsoever. Outwardly composed, but with shirtsleeves rolled to mid-forearm, he observed Beth intently as he chalked the cue.
His wince would have been noticeable to very few as she sank yet another ball and proceeded to circle the table, a habit he was now familiar with, as she did so after nearly every play taken regardless of the leave. Only two shots remained before her attention would be focused on black. She could win the game, and the thought disconcerted him. He truly had not even considered this as a possibility, but reluctantly did so now.
None too soon. Beth was now on the eight, eyeing it as from a predator's point of view, critically, carefully, but with a glimmer of anticipation in the treat to be tasted. Darcy smiled as he envisioned her in contemplating a sumptuously laden dessert cart. She called her plan for the final sinking and watched in stillness as the small sphere traveled the full length of the table, hit the far bank, and returned in a beautiful line, the full path describing the formation of birds in autumn flight, so quiet, so peaceful, the knowledge of destination instinctual, pre-ordained; this bird knew as well, its flight home completed in near silence, only a soft clicking noise offered as it met the others in its nest.
No reaction from Beth. None of her previous glee erupted, and after some seconds he broke the pause by again offering his congratulations, although this time in a much more serious manner, the tone including at least some small amount of respect. Darcy's words elicited a small smile from her, and she casually asked, "Do you know the rules if one loses here?"
"I'm afraid I do not," was the reply, he wondering what custom might be practiced, and if regret would soon accompany embarrassment at his loss.
"You buy."
"I beg your pardon?"
She smiled, then laughed outright, looked at her glass, which was still half full, and spoke again. "The loser buys a round. Period. That's the rule, or your name will be dirt, Darcy!" and she proceeded to rack, ignoring him. He turned away with a smile of his own, ready to pay the price of defeat, when they were joined by another, he bearing amber-filled frosted mugs as well as a small leather case.
"Right on time," Beth said to the newcomer, "as always," and he kissed her on the cheek with easy familiarity, saying with a smile, "Been practicing again, have we?" then began assembling what appeared to be the work of a craftsman.
Darcy had seated himself again, finishing his own drink, wondering what protocol dictated, when Beth offered him some options.
"I'll defer your debt, Bill, but I won't forget it. Stay if you like, maybe you'll have an opportunity for payoff," and she grinned at his expression upon hearing himself be called Bill. "If I called you William in here, we'd both be laughed out of the place! Walk out the door, you're back to your old self, I assure you. It's not a permanent thing!" and without waiting for a reply, or introducing the two men, (indeed, the new arrival seemed interested only in his own preparations), Beth readied to break yet again.
Darcy was intrigued, (though a bit put out at the easy manner in which she had nicknamed him), and with a fresh Scotch he settled in, believing this game to be the one she had been practicing for all along. He didn't want to miss it.
It had been several days since Darcy witnessed Beth's long-awaited triumph, and he still could not get her out of his mind. She arrived unbidden, at odd intervals, and would stay a remarkable length of time, especially when appearing as she had been immediately after her second win. With a smile he recalled her delight and laughter, her pure joy infectious, raising the cue as though it were the magical sword of a fabled hero, her ridiculous statement, given in gleeful tones, "I came, I practiced, I conquered!" With this recollection he laughed outright. He had returned to the pub the following evening, ostensibly to pay his debt, no further opportunity having presented itself that evening, but she was not there, at least not physically. He had left after one drink. He had not slept well that night, either, and his mood since meeting her had been one of preoccupation.
With a start Darcy realized he was once again at the entrance of the site of their meeting, and with a shrug he decided to give it one more shot, and pulled the brass handle on the heavy oak door, entering softly lit coolness. Music sounded sweet and low, joined by laughter, her laughter. His spirits rose as he approached, waiting for a break in her conversation with the barkeep before saying, "I always pay my debts, madam."
He was very nearly reconciled to being called Bill, which in itself was cause for amazement as well as some amusement, but what truly gave surprise was his lack of concentration. They had followed the pattern established previously, a drink and a game that was progressing in near identical fashion to their first. Darcy would have been unhappy with his level of play had he cared more for the win, but as it was he found greater enjoyment in watching Beth as she took advantage of his leaves, proceeding to empty the green surface methodically and gracefully. Between shots she took her walk about the table, humming softly. They spoke little, exchanging the minimal amount of words required by civility and locale, content for now to keep mostly silent, although Darcy wondered with some concern how he would get to know her at all if their meetings continued in this vein.
His reverie was broken by Beth's voice, "Just for the fun of it, how about I try double-banking the four down to the far corner, hmm?" She gave no time for a reply but continued as if he had spoken, "Not a chance, you say? Ah, well, you may be right. But then again, nothing ventured..." and with mock seriousness she eyed the intended direction of the cue ball, chalked, and continued speaking as she aimed. "You know, I pretend they're little planets. Makes me feel omnipotent."
This said, she sent white on its mission, miniature orbs doing her bidding smoothly, flawlessly meeting then parting again in pursuit of the path she had designated.
"I see all's well with the universe today," she stated contentedly, and as Darcy smothered a laugh she sank the eight with a simple side-shot, taking the game, and placed her cue on the table with a smile.
He was on the verge of offering a dinner invitation when a silky female voice called his name. Darcy started in surprise and dismay, briefly closing his eyes, hoping the intrusion would magically disappear; in this he was disappointed, and wishing for some of Beth's powers over the universal order, he turned to face Caroline Bingley, wondering just how far in the cosmos he would have to travel to make his escape from her a permanent one.
"Caroline, how nice to see you. I'm afraid Beth and I were just leaving," and he held his breath, praying for her cooperation; he saw the sparkle in her eyes as she glanced from Caroline, now wearing a pout and frown, back to Darcy and smiled warmly. "Hot dogs it is, Bill," and she strode from the room to the sound of Caroline's gasp, Darcy happily following half a pace behind.
They stepped out into dusk, the sky a swirl of pink and lavender, deepening shades of blue to the east, surrounded by the smell of the sea, air heavy with heat and the promise of rain.
"I was joking about hot dogs," she said, deftly tying her hair up into a ponytail as she walked.
"I was about to ask if you would care to join me for dinner. Before Caroline tracked me down," he replied in a rather glum tone. "How she managed to do that..."
"Your invitation is accepted, William," and she smiled. "How about Castaways?"
They sat overlooking the Gulf, watching the last of the colors of sunset wash into water and fade out of sight, replaced by tropical night, wisps of clouds like angels' wings floating beneath new stars, the sound of waves on sand a soft murmur of welcome to the darkness.
Chapter 2
She allowed him to see her to her car. He didn't know where she lived, had no way of reaching her, and they had made no arrangements for a future meeting. She was elusive yet dominated his thoughts, a frustrating combination, and he feared never seeing her again.
Darcy had spoken briefly of Miss Bingley; he did not want to impart more importance to the subject than was warranted, but hoped to make his feelings for her (or rather, the lack of them), clear to Beth. He wondered if he had given an altogether opposite impression than the one desired, and he stewed a bit over the inopportune arrival of that lady. He had yet to fathom how Caroline had located him. Darcy had not planned to return to the pub, he had suddenly found himself there; it had by no means been an intentional act, consciously done. He was not chasing after a little pool player as the ubiquitous Miss Bingley was pursuing him. Certainly not.
He recalled scenes of their evening together; following dinner they had taken a short walk along the beach, she carrying her shoes, stooping occasionally to examine a seashell, searching the darkened sky for shooting stars, or possibly private messages from the universe, galactic tips on improving her miniaturized planet-play. Darcy couldn't help but smile at this; if anyone had a dedicated line of communication with the natural forces it was she. Nearing ebb tide they had walked upon sparkling sands dancing indiscernible patterns of their own choosing, silent partners of the night's light, revealed for a brief time before being submerged once again, new designs to be created, future displays to make ready for those fortunate few who cared enough or had vision enough to see.
The bark of a dog brought him back to the present, and his total astonishment was transformed to relief and delight as he saw Beth running along the surf line, followed closely by a large dog of indeterminate breed. Beth threw an unidentifiable object into the waves, and her companion was immediately in pursuit, paddling through water as though born to it. Darcy walked toward them, vowing to reconsider the existence of the Fates when he had a spare moment.
"Minnie, no!" Beth called out as one hundred plus pounds of sopping wet fur loped joyfully toward Darcy. He braced himself for the impact, barely able to remain upright as paws met shoulders and an enthusiastic greeting was bestowed.
"I am so sorry! Minnie, look what you've done, William's all wet, shame on you!" as she unsuccessfully tried to hide her amusement.
"No need to apologize," Darcy politely replied, still grappling with Minnie, somewhat embarrassed at his inability to handle her. He was usually quite good with animals. Beth made a small hand-gesture and Minnie was at her side in a second, busily shaking off water droplets, most of which headed Darcy's way as though guided by an unseen hand.
Darcy could think of nothing to say and was racking his brain for a comment to make, a compliment to bestow, anything to engage her in conversation and prolong their meeting, when Beth took the lead of both the dog and the encounter, formally introducing Darcy to the animal, and explained, "She's not mine, I'm training and caring for her while her owner is away. As you can see, we have a lot of work ahead of us," as Minnie pounced on her toy, a somewhat deflated basketball, and gazed mournfully at Beth.
"Looks like we're going to be here a while," she smiled, and again threw into waves now in fancy dress, capped in white, breaking enthusiastically upon the shore. Minnie ecstatically gave chase as the inevitable progress of water over land continued, and the sounds of revelry increased, an exclamation of triumph over such weak resistance mere land had to offer.
They sat in the sand, watching the surf grow with the rising tide. Darcy was about to suggest he see them both home, hoping to spend the remainder of the day in Beth's company, with or without the dog, when she made the decision herself, rising to call Minnie one last time. As she did so the sound of screeching tires overrode the crashing of the sea, and all three turned to face the cause.
Caroline, dressed to the gills and in high heels, was stepping out of a car. As they watched in bemusement she reached sand and promptly sank ankle-deep, wobbling precariously, grabbing at air for support, her balance an uncertainty from moment to moment. Beth got hold of Minnie a split second before she would have charged at this new playmate, and they made their way slowly toward Miss Bingley, whose composure was in most serious jeopardy.
"Caroline, do you always dress formally for an afternoon at the beach?" Darcy asked as he offered her his arm.
Before she was able to collect herself and deliver a reply suitably acerbic yet ingratiating, Beth spoke up.
"Miss Bingley, I'm terribly sorry you have plans, Bill and I had a much more casual outing in mind, after dropping off Minnie, of course. Perhaps you could join us next time," and she turned a mischievous look to Darcy as he handed Caroline back into her vehicle, accompanied by a great deal of sand. "We simply must get to the bowling alley soon, or all the best shoes will be spoken for!" and she quickly turned away, hand pressed to lips, stifling her laughter as she headed down the beach with Minnie, not needing to look back, knowing Darcy would catch up with her. Hearing the squeal of tires at the same moment she felt him take her hand, she smiled to herself as she faced him, and said with a certainty which brooked no doubt, "There's a storm brewing, William. We'd better get moving."
Beth had slowly guided the runabout unerringly through the no wake zones before allowing the Chris Craft to cut smoothly through the increasingly choppy waters. She seemed to choose her own way, she rode the waves so naturally, sleek lines faultless, rich mahogany aglow in the now intermittent sunlight. Minnie sat motionless, head raised, eyes not quite closed, for all the world appearing to be in a profound meditative state. Perhaps she was only hoping for some hapless fish to make one final unfortunate leap through salt-spray and air. Perhaps she just loved boat rides.
They tied up at a private dock, but Darcy was a bit confused as to location, never having made this particular approach, and he was still trying to get his bearings when Minnie began a deep growl. Beth quickly shortened the lead by wrapping it several times about her palm, and brought the dog to sit at her side.
"Blast it all," Beth whispered, "I don't like him either, but you can't have him for dinner. Sorry!"
A motorcycle approached and circled within a few yards of them. The rider, encased in black leather despite the heat, hailed Beth. The friendly tone could not altogether mask his insolence, even though the specifics of the greeting were drowned in the cacophony of the bike and Minnie's frenzied barking. She lunged toward him, pulling Beth several feet along with her until Darcy grabbed her about the waist and took Minnie's lead in hand as well. Beth leaned backward as the dog reared up on her hind legs and scrabbled with her front paws in an effort to get an inch closer to her goal. Her intentions obviously were not benign.
Having reconsidered the situation, the rider slowly took his leave, casting a dark look behind him, his departing words barely audible in the combined noise of bike and bark, "We'll meet again soon, Lizzy!"
Beth sank to her knees next to Minnie and murmured soothing nonsense as the animal gradually calmed, pressed against Beth, and touched nose to cheek in a final gesture of reassurance. As she rose Darcy began to untangle the lead, asking simply, "Who was he?"
"The former owner of Minnie, a most...unpleasant sort," she replied, and didn't notice Darcy's frown of concern as he saw the abrasions on her palm. He silently took charge of Minnie, and said only, "Where to?"
They walked together in silence, his arm about her shoulders, dog trotting easily at his side. The wind rose, darkness gathered above, and the first drops of rain fell to earth from lowering clouds, though narrow rays of sunlight still peeked surrealistically through gaps of blue. The double rainbow escaped their notice entirely.
To Darcy's surprise they were back at the pub, having entered through a back door. Minnie went to a far corner of the poolroom and lay down with a soft huffing sound, her eyes on Beth as she went to a row of cabinets and pulled out a container. Minnie sat up. Beth took a step forward. Dog followed suit. Another step, matched again. The container was opened, and Minnie sat with no further command. With a big grin Beth pulled out a dog biscuit and said quietly, "Catch," and tossed the treat in the air. It rose, dog tracking the flight, and at the apex Minnie gracefully leapt, gently taking the gift six feet above the floor.
Darcy nodded in admiration as Beth replaced the doggy bones. Crunching noises replaced the silence for a few brief seconds as Minnie padded back to her corner, tail now wagging.
"Is there a first aid kit about?" he asked, wondering what the devil they were doing back here anyway, with a storm imminent, no knowledge of its anticipated strength, and accompanied by a dog. He shrugged it off. She would give her reasons sooner or later. He wondered if tonight was hotdog night or some such thing, and the thought brought a small smile to replace the more serious expression.
"Are you hurt?" Beth asked in some surprise, and he immediately responded with, "No, you are." He moved quickly toward her and gently turned her hands palm up.
"Oh," she said in a small voice. "Well, do you play poker? I mean, are you good at it?"
"What does that have to do with a first aid kit, if you wouldn't mind sharing a small piece of information with me?" Darcy asked rather impatiently.
"If you don't play well or just don't want to, you could help me out."
He waited in silence for her to continue.
"You could, if you were so inclined, hold my cards for me. It'll be a bit difficult with my hand wrapped up. You see, tonight's poker night."
He stood before her in total confusion.
She smiled. "Another rule you're not familiar with, I see. It's the first storm of the month. That means tournament night and I believe this month is poker. Private party, of course!" and she turned and headed toward the bar, leaving him to stare after her and voice his thoughts to Minnie, who was snoring softly, contentedly dreaming of wind and rides in boats, and occasionally pawing at unfortunate fish.
The clap of thunder didn't disturb her a whit and effectively covered the sound of an all too familiar female voice.
Chapter 3
"Why, Miss Bingley, how good of you to join us! I had no idea you were interested in games of chance," Beth sweetly greeted Caroline. Ignoring her perplexed look and disheveled appearance, Beth continued, "You did bring the invitation, I hope?" as she guided Caroline to a seat at the bar. "We have some time yet. I believe it will be a while before the storm builds up. Do have a drink. On the house, of course. I'm a bit busy at the moment, but make yourself at home. We may be here awhile," and with a smile Beth left to prepare for whatever gathering was to take place whenever it was to be held for purposes unknown to the decidedly disgruntled Miss Bingley.
Caroline stared into her drink as though the secrets of the universe had taken temporary lodgings there. The bartender, a woman of indeterminate age and sporting one of the tallest beehive hairdos ever to defy gravity, was prattling on about the handsome appearance of men in uniform. Miss Bingley's eyes glazed over at the verbal onslaught as she slugged back the contents of her glass, and nearly put out an eye with the festive umbrella perched atop a slice of lime. She hated to admit defeat, but in such circumstances knew she could not long maintain a pleasant demeanor, and would have to arrange yet another encounter with Darcy. Caroline resolved to teach "Little Miss Pool Player" a lesson at the earliest opportunity. The nerve of that interfering nobody, the presumption, the gall! So went Miss C.'s thoughts as she ordered another drink, thus engendering delight in the ample bosom of Mrs. B. She dearly loved an appreciative audience, and proceeded to wax poetic on the finer elements of high fashion.
Minnie snuffled happily in her corner; dreams of fish and fowl provided every opportunity for enjoyment, and she partook in the games with delight. Darcy was less content with his thoughts, however, and slumped dejectedly in a chair. It was impossible for him not to overhear the hard-edged voice from the next room stridently singing the praises of khaki, or rather, men wearing khaki. Darcy sighed and wondered if there was still time to make his escape before the storm hit. Upon hearing Caroline's voice as well, he closed his eyes, relinquished any hope of avoiding her pursuits, and tried to recall what horrific deed he had committed to warrant such misfortune.
A metallic crash brought him abruptly to his feet, and Minnie to hers as well. Darcy turned to see Beth retrieving various cooking tools, tongs, forks, and the largest spatula he had ever seen.
"Allow me." Darcy eased Beth to the side as he took possession of an enormous barbecue grill and all the accoutrements necessary for the cookout of the millennium.
"What in heaven's name are you going to do with this, feed an army?" he asked, reddening slightly as he recalled words overheard from another quarter.
His discomfort went unnoticed by Beth as she directed him to an outdoor area on the leeward side of the building.
"We never know how many people will show up, and if this storm is very strong it's likely the power will go out. No power, well, cold hotdogs? I think not, Bill."
Her smile was irresistible. Darcy watched as she left the shelter of the alcove and gazed at the now darkened sky. She stood motionless as large drops of rain fell; lightning crossed between eerie gray-green clouds, spread a dim sickly light, and revealed massive thunderheads to the west. The cracks of thunder that followed seconds later bordered on physical assault. The sky would soon be a battleground; this first showing was only a skirmish.
"Oh no. Oh no," Beth whispered. "This does not look good at all."
Darcy placed an arm about her shoulders and gently drew her back inside.
"My nerves, my poor nerves! Oh, Benny, you cannot possibly know what I suffer from these dreadful storms, I can barely hear myself think!" wailed Mrs. B. Her hands fluttered about her head, occasionally lending moral support to the edifice atop it, which steadfastly remained in place despite the improbability of such a feat.
"I believe these past twenty-odd years have given me a great appreciation for your nerves, Aggie, and at least some small understanding of them as well," replied her husband, who had just finished a final check on the hurricane shutters, though he had not yet lowered them into place. As he was about to continue the familiar exchange with his wife, the front doors burst open, admitting heat, wind, and a small group of young men, their voices raised against the increasing sounds of thunder. Laughing, confident, and not quite soaked through, they blithely ignored the storm. Even in civilian dress it was obvious they were in the military, as it would have taken a group many times the size of theirs to supply the amount of hair present in Mrs. B.'s coiffure.
"Boys, boys, I am so grateful you were able to join us! You know I always feel so much safer when you are here! I just know this storm will be the worst, and one can never have too much help about. Heaven knows, what with the damage we'll suffer and looters running about, I've read all about them, you know, and although it has never happened here, it could very well..."
The men shared understanding smiles with Mr. Bennet, then turned their attention to Mrs. B.
"Never fear, ma'am, we're at your service!"
"Mrs. B., lovely as ever! New 'do? Never looked better!"
"How about a pitcher for some thirsty aviators, Mrs. B.? Our birds have been grounded on account of this puny little blow!"
"Any port in a storm?" quipped one, the groans overriding the laughter.
"What's it to be today? Pool? Poker? Darts? Don't keep us in suspense!" and with these distractions Mrs. Bennet saw to the comfort of her boys, providing them with enough refreshments for hours to come. The activity had the further advantage of curtailing her verbal torrent in regard to the imminent danger posed by the storm. Not only did she feel much safer with the presence of men from the local military base, but her plans for Lizzy to marry a pilot added quite a bit of satisfaction as well, and Mrs. B.'s thoughts were thus agreeably engaged.
A small dog had entered with them, unnoticed during the hubbub of greetings and serving of drinks. The bedraggled little brown and white scrap scurried under a corner table and began licking his paws. After several minutes of this, and observing the other much larger occupants still unaware of his presence, he sighed in relief, put his head down, and closed his eyes.
The commotion had drawn the attention of Miss Bingley. She had been about to take her leave, but upon sight of the condition of the newcomers her nose wrinkled in disgust. She didn't wish to go about in public resembling a drowned rat, and as she made efforts to gain the attention of the bartender with the high hair Miss C. pondered the potential benefits of the situation. She had pursued Darcy far too long to readily accept defeat, especially from a pool player who ate hotdogs! Never! With a fresh beverage before her, she carefully removed the umbrella, mindful of the danger it posed. Caroline was unaware that her slow deliberate movements indicated a rapidly decreasing level of sobriety. Miss C. was well on her way to getting smashed.
Chapter 4
Darcy knew storms, and this one was beginning to cause him some concern. With no access to the latest weather reports he was, in a sense, flying blind. Telling Beth he'd be in shortly to help with any preparations needed, he stepped outside and walked a short distance away from the building and the trees that surrounded it. The wind was whipping the Queen palms viciously; they bent with the stress, graceful in their strength, bowing to capricious currents as towering live oaks moaned their distress. Spanish moss torn from centuries-old limbs, an interwoven net of life, sailed through rough seas of air, no safe harbor in sight.
Darcy shook his head, wiped the rain from his face, and turned back to the pub. It was too late to make a getaway. He'd have to ride this one out. For a brief moment he thought the shrill cry he heard was yet another vocalization of the wind, but as it continued he realized it was a woman's scream, and he ran toward the building in fear.
The poolroom was empty. As he headed toward the bar the cries continued, joined by male voices, the shrill exclamations of the bartender he had heard earlier, barking, and, surprisingly, laughter.
He entered bedlam. Caroline was standing atop a chair screeching, "Rats! There are rats in here! Get me out of this place! William, where are you? Heeeeellllllpp!"
The bartender was shrieking at Caroline, "I'll sue you! How dare you! I run a clean place! Get off that chair this instant or you'll pay for the upholstery! Benny, throw that crazy woman out of here this instant! Benny, where are you? Get in here now! Oh, you're never around when I need you!"
Minnie, barking furiously and tail in full swing, loped joyously from one end of the bar to the other, occasionally raising her head to sample some of the beer which had been spilled across the dark wood. Beth and several clean-cut young men were chasing after what at first glance did appear to be a rat, albeit a larger and hairier one than Darcy thought possible. The object of this pursuit had reached the end of the bar. It gave a fierce little yap, did an about-face, and backtracked, jumping over the wet islands Minnie had not yet mopped up.
"Caroline!" Darcy's bellow brought instant silence. He continued at normal volume, "Caroline, it's a dog. Do get down from that chair," and he caught the small intruder in one hand as it tried to escape into a cupboard. "Come here little fella. You'll be fine. I won't let Minnie eat you."
Caroline wobbled in her high heels as, with a red face, she attempted to make her descent. "It's all herfault," she thought, "that pool player! She'll pay for this!" and Caroline promptly fell off her perch with a gasp, directly into the waiting arms of a handsome and very muscular man. He held her with a grin and a glint in his eyes as he said, "Pleased to meet you, ma'am. Major Flynn, at your service." He gently lowered her feet to the floor, but kept an arm around her waist as he picked up the tiny umbrella she had discarded on the table. "A gardenia would be more appropriate, but I'm afraid I don't have any handy this minute. Hope this will do in the meantime?" and he placed the decoration in her upswept hair with a smile reminiscent of the swashbucklers of old.
Caroline was nonplused. "I was just leaving," she stammered, and unsteadily attempted to detach herself from his grasp.
"It's not polite to argue with a lady, and I can easily see you're a lady, ma'am, but I surely know no one is leaving here for a while. To see you safely home would put a whole lot of people in jeopardy, and you wouldn't want harm to come to any of my men, now would you? Of course, after this little bit of turbulence blows by, I'd be honored to escort you any place you say. Ma'am." He smiled again.
"Well. I see." Caroline stared into his eyes. They were the most unusual shade of green. Tropical waters in full sun had nothing on his eyes, she thought. "I certainly wouldn't want to..."
"Well, that's fine then. We'll just settle in for a bit. Shall I keep calling you ma'am?" His arm was still about her waist, his eyes still twinkled at her, and Miss Bingley briefly wondered if this handsome man was teasing her, but immediately discarded the thought. Such behavior would be beneath a gentleman such as he. Still, they had not yet been properly introduced. Falling into someone's arms was certainly not a proper introduction.
"That will be fine for now," she replied primly, and finally retreated a step. She turned slightly and raised a hand to her hair, missing the grin the major wore as he watched.
Darcy toweled down the scrap of fur before him as he listened to Ms. Beehive (for so he had come to think of her) chastise Beth.
"Lizzy, did you bring another animal in here? How many times have I told you not to bring them inside? I will not have it! Minnie, of course, is another story, as she belongs to that nice young man, and I just know if you spent more time with him he might..."
"Mother, please!" Beth interrupted, red-faced. With a quick glance at the dog still in Darcy's hands, she began to clean up the mess made by the animals. Minnie, ever helpful, had done her best to lap up the beer spills, which had served to prevent Miss Bingley from taking a header as well.
Darcy almost dropped the small stray. "This woman is her mother?" he thought incredulously. "How can it be possible?" He was aghast. Pondering the implications arising from this revelation, he absently continued to dry the little animal, who occasionally expressed his appreciation with a lick.
The others present, excepting Miss Bingley and the major, were animatedly recapping the chase as if it had been a battle, awarding points and assessing errors in strategy. Minnie was initially criticized for pausing too often for refreshment, though no one truly held it against her, as they all enjoyed a good brew themselves. What had begun as a fault was soon regarded as good taste, and Minnie was toasted for having the wisdom to know when to stop and reevaluate. Minnie accepted the honor with aplomb, although she gave no thank-you speech. She was too occupied keeping a surreptitious eye on the ball of fluff that had eluded her, there being no further spills to divert her attention from the presence of this new toy.
The noise level inside was rising, effectively masking the increasingly loud thunder until the lights flickered several times. Slowly the conversations tapered off, but the lights remained on.
"Well, maybe this won't be as bad as we..." and suddenly all went dark as a tremendous crack of thunder rattled the glasses and bottles on the shelves. Even the paintings trembled against the walls, and cheers rose up. Several seconds later the back-up generator kicked on, and soft yellow lights glowed warmly from the corners and ceiling.
"Where's Beth?"
"Let's get started!"
"Who's up for some pool?"
"Hey, what happened to the major?"
"I thought it was poker night! I saved up for this!"
"You've seen too many westerns, Denny!"
Several of the men headed for the poolroom and Darcy followed, the small dog trembling in his arms. Darcy wondered about asking Beth for some of the treats she had given Minnie earlier, but as he glanced about he found Caroline instead. He almost beat a hasty retreat to make inquiries of the bartender (he still could not bring himself to think of that woman as Beth's mother); but before he turned back Darcy grasped the situation and did a double take. Caroline had a pool cue in hand, something Darcy had never seen before, and he watched as she was instructed in the proper way to hold it for a simple shot. Her teacher seemed to have no qualms about being in close physical proximity to her either, as he had his arms wrapped around her, his hands over hers, and... Darcy blinked.
"Can it be?" he thought in disbelief. "Am I released? Can my years of avoiding her finally be at an end? Whoever you are, I'll buy you the wedding present of your dreams! Just keep her away from me! Far away!" The last was prayer-like in its intensity. He really was very tired of running.
Miss Bingley, perhaps for the first time in her adult life, did not notice Darcy's presence. Although still a bit lightheaded from the drinks she had consumed while morosely plotting Beth's demise, her present state owed more to the major. Caroline was never above receiving the attentions of deserving members of the opposite sex, but this man was so far beyond past suitors she was nearly overwhelmed. It didn't hurt that he continued to call her ma'am either, without forcing intimacies more quickly than was appropriate.
It was then, when most were gathered in the pool room, lights comfortably low, spirits engaged in the games to come, and the storm just beginning to show signs of its destructiveness as it lashed out at any feeble resistance --- it was then that Wickham entered the pub.
Chapter 5
"Frankie! My dear boy, you are positively drenched!" gushed Mrs. B. "I know Lizzy will be delighted to see you, but we must get you into some dry clothes. We can't have you catching a chill! Come with me, I'm sure Mr. B. has something suitable lying about, now no arguments!" Mrs. B. did not register Wickham's frustrated look as she took his hand, led him to a staircase, and continued her stream of chatter. "My hair dryer is upstairs, now don't you worry, we'll have you presentable in no time at all!"
Wickham knew Mrs. B. well enough to realize that resistance was futile, and he cursed his bad luck that she had witnessed his arrival. He knew full well that under her ministrations it was highly probable that he would reappear sporting a pompadour, with layers of shellac holding it permanently in place, and he vowed to refuse any application of hairspray. This day had not gone well at all. He surrendered with a sigh. There was no arguing with Mrs. B. when she was on a mission.
After having found what she considered to be suitable clothing for her charge, Mrs. B. prattled on as she seated her prisoner in an antique barber chair that much resembled a device of torture. "You know, Lizzy is downstairs, and she has brought your dog here again! Now, I can certainly understand that you would want to oblige my daughter's whims, and she is such an animal lover, dogs in particular are her favorite, though I don't have much use for them myself. But Frankie, I cannot have dogs in and out of here at all hours, storm or no storm! Lizzy is a headstrong, obstinate girl, but a sweet child, even if I do say so myself, and if you simply take control and show her who is the boss, I am sure she would respect you for it! In any event, what I mean to say is..." Mrs. B. continued her monologue while directing a blast of hot air at Wickham's head. He could barely differentiate between the roar of the industrial-strength hair dryer being manipulated by "The Bee-ster" and the flood of words she emitted. They combined to form a sort of white noise that was oddly soothing, and soon Wickham was lulled into a near comatose state. He relaxed into the warmth of the oversized leather chair as Mrs. B. fluffed, styled, and spritzed her heart out. She rarely had such an opportunity, and was determined to create a masterpiece. At least Wickham had hair. More than some people she could mention - which thought led her to wonder where Mr. B. had gone off to. Of course he would disappear and leave her to handle everything! Well, as soon as she finished with Wickham she would find that husband of hers. No doubt he would be relaxing in his office with his nose in a book and a snifter of the better brandy at hand! It was all very vexing...
Downstairs the games were just beginning to get organized. His men knew better than to interrupt the major while he was engaged in tactical maneuvers, and they left him to his own game. They chose cues, grouped into teams, and established wagering limits with the gravity such activity required, although several grins were exchanged at the sight of their fearless leader teaching a novice the rudimentaries of the game. At the same time a topic of great import was being discussed: naming the stray dog. Once the poor thing had been dried and fed, the resemblance to a rat was totally dismissed, but replaced by one almost as unfortunate. It had not quite reached the point of a vote, but the overwhelming majority favored the name "Yoda". Beth strenuously disagreed, and Darcy hid his amusement behind a blank expression as she defended the sensibilities of the pup.
"Beth, look at him! He could be Yoda's brother! Looks just like him, but with more hair!"
"I believe Yoda is a bit taller," she replied placidly.
"He looks much more like a Smurf," Denny offered authoritatively, and he began to list various points in support of this suggestion.
Beth looked at Darcy and realized he was no longer holding the newcomer. Darcy, anticipating her question, indicated she look to Minnie's corner. With regal bearing Minnie was overseeing all before her, head held high, front paws set firmly on either side of the fluff-ball under discussion, who lay contentedly snoozing beneath his new guardian.
"Murphy," said Beth firmly. "It's close enough to Smurf."
And that was that.
To Be Continued