Beginning, Section II
Jump to new as of September 26, 2000
The remainder of Georgiana's birthday party went by in a blur for Elizabeth, who spent most of the time staying as far from William as possible. He was attempting to do the same, and anyone who had been observing them (as Georgiana naturally was) would have noticed that they wound up circling each other like vultures in an effort to keep on exact opposite sides of the room.
When the party was over Elizabeth bolted to her room to avoid saying good-bye to William. She was disturbed, not wholly unexpectedly, about ten minutes later by Georgiana bursting into her room.
"What happened?" she demanded without prelude. "I saw you! I thought you hated each other! What did he say?"
"What is this, the Inquisition?" Elizabeth asked with raised eyebrows.
"Worse," Georgiana replied. "I have no intention of letting you confess your way out of it."
"Fire and brimstone, then?"
"Oh, absolutely."
Elizabeth sighed. "Nothing happened."
"Are you kidding? I saw what happened, and it was definitely something."
"It was because of Bill Collins, that's all."
"And that's why you snuck out of the room, and then spent the rest of the night avoiding each other like the plague?"
"Yes?" Elizabeth tried.
"Nice try."
"I'm serious!" Seeing that Georgiana was not buying it, Elizabeth finally broke down and explained, "All right, yes, we. . . kissed. Then we left the room to talk about it. And we decided that there's nothing between us!"
"But -"
"Georgiana, we hate each other! There's just no way around it!" Elizabeth laughed. "I'm the last person in the world your brother wants to be with, and the feeling is mutual."
"Something looked mutual, all right," Georgiana muttered. "Okay, fine. I'll stop trying to set you up with my brother."
"Good," replied a very much relieved Elizabeth.
"Someone else, on the other hand. . ."
"Oh, Georgie," Elizabeth whined. "Really, I don't. . ."
"You'll love this guy!" Georgiana insisted. "He's good-looking - really good-looking - he's tall, smart, funny - he pays for dinner. . ."
"No."
"Owns a company. . ."
"No."
"Goes hiking. . ."
"No."
"On the rebound from the wrong woman, and dying to meet you."
"You've told him about me?" Elizabeth asked in disbelief.
"Of course! He's great, and he really wants to meet you."
Elizabeth covered her face with her hands.
"Just have dinner with him," Georgiana insisted. "Once. That's all I'm asking. You need to get out."
"I do?"
"You spend all your time taking care of everyone else's problems. You need a life!"
Elizabeth sighed again. "I don't really have a choice, do I? If I say no this person will turn up at my door."
"Pretty much, yeah."
Sigh. "All right. I'll meet the paragon for dinner. But you are making all the arrangements."
Georgiana fairly jumped off the bed. "Great! I'm so excited! You're going to love him, I promise."
"Yeah, sure." Elizabeth found herself beyond rational thought.
The next morning she rose early and went for a longer run than usual, trying to clear her mind. She found the rhythmic slap of her feet on the pavement made it easier for her to concentrate. Slap. What the heck am I doing? Slap. Who is this guy, anyway? Slap. Better him than William. Slap. What's the matter with him, anyway? He's more confusing than a physics textbook. Slap, slap. What's the matter with me? I can't stand the guy, I barely know him, and I'm thinking about him all the time. Slap. He wasn't that great a kisser. Slap. Okay, he was. But that has nothing to do with it. Slap. Really. Slap. I don't like him. Slap, slap. I don't. Honest. Slap. My sneakers are really dirty.
She stopped for a moment to catch her breath and push loose strands of hair back into her ponytail. Okay, there's only one solution to this problem. I'm going to forget about him completely. He can't bother me if I forget all about him. I'll just not see him anymore - not that I was seeing him on purpose before. I'll meet this guy Georgiana knows, and maybe, just maybe, I'll like him. Sure, why not? That'll put William right out of my head. Right out. Gone. Humming the South Pacific song "I'm Gonna Wash That Man Right Out Of My Hair," Elizabeth resumed her run.
Meanwhile, in her room across campus, Georgiana was busy on the phone despite the early hour. "Come on, you'll love her," she pleaded. "I promise you will thank me for this. No, I can't tell you who she is, you wouldn't know her. Just somebody from school - but she's great, and she's dying to meet you. She's gorgeous, and she's nice, and smart, and really funny - and she's tall enough for you! Come on. Come on. You know you want to. You have to be just the least bit curious. Please? For me? You will! Great! That's wonderful! I know you'll have an interesting night. You can meet her at Marco's in town. I'll tell her you'll be there - Friday at eight? Don't worry, I'll handle all that. I'll call the restaurant. Wear your brown suit - no, no, the navy blue one. That one looks the best. Okay. I promise you will not hate me for this. Okay. Okay. I will. I'm so excited! Okay. Bye, William."
She hung up the phone with a mischievous glint in her eye.
William sat alone at the table in the Italian restaurant his sister had recommended, staring anxiously at everyone who walked through the door and trying to look unconcerned. Every woman who entered the room earned a penetrating stare, but all came accompanied by someone else. What am I doing? What on earth possessed me to listen to Georgiana again? I know this is a trick. She's probably trying to set me up with that tree woman again. I'm sure she means well, but the poor thing is boring! I need to get out of here. I'll tell Georgie to make my apologies to her friend. I'll tell her -
He stopped dead. A woman alone stood with her back to him at the entrance, talking to the maitre d'. Even from the back and from that distance he could tell that she was certainly not Robin the tree woman. He could also tell that if her face was even half as lovely as the rest of her, he would be insane not to like her.
Don't be so shallow, William. Robin was pretty too. Looks aren't everything. You still might hate her.
The maitre d' pointed in his direction. She turned to look. Somehow across dozens of people their eyes managed to meet. William gulped. See? he told himself. I knew there was going to be something wrong with her.
She crossed the restaurant swiftly, long black skirt swishing tantalizingly around her legs. Don't go there, old boy. She looked beautiful - and positively baffled.
"William?" she asked in some confusion as she approached his table. "What are you doing here? Is something wrong? Did Georgiana send you with a message -"
"Don't you get it?" he asked without so much as a polite hello. "She talked you into meeting a friend of hers, right?"
"Oh," Elizabeth said, suddenly getting it. She sank into the free chair at his table, shaking her head. "Georgiana. . ."
"I'm going to kill her," William announced cheerfully.
"Me first."
"All right, if you insist. I'll kill you, then her."
She glared at him.
"Just kidding." He played with the napkin wrapped around his silverware absently. "Seriously though, what is that girl up to? I would have thought that by now she'd have seen the way we -"
"Yeah, well, don't forget she also saw a few other things. Like your performance at the party."
"My performance? And I thought Georgiana was in denial!"
Elizabeth sipped at her full water glass demurely and offered no response.
"Okay," he said finally. "What are we going to do?"
She looked at him innocently. "Do?"
"About Georgiana."
Elizabeth shrugged. "As long as we're here, I suggest we have dinner. Then we can both tell Georgiana honestly - before we kill her - that we gave it a shot. She'd have to leave us alone after that."
"You would think so, anyway," William muttered. "But I guess you have a point."
"Of course I do," she replied smoothly. "Besides, you can stand me for at least that long, can't you?"
"Possibly," he said coolly (or rather, as coolly as he could manage with his stomach dancing around in the vicinity of his lungs).
"That is, if you're sure you feel safe," she added with a wicked gleam in her eye.
"Safe?"
"You know, from me. For when your sexiness becomes too much for me and I have to throw myself at you."
Please? "I'll take my chances." What are you thinking? Down, boy! You don't like her! Remember - you don't like her!
Elizabeth set down her water glass and licked her lips - probably without any ulterior motive, but he couldn't be sure. "Good," she said quite cheerfully. "Then with any luck, and the exercise of every molecule of my self-control, we should be able to have a calm, quiet evening."
William looked up desperately. "Waiter?"
As it turned out (fortunately), he didn't need to worry quite so much. Elizabeth managed to make it through the evening without attempting to seduce him to carry her point. The main problem was that he was discovering what he had suspected all along was true - that she didn't need to try to seduce him. She was reeling him in with no effort at all, and that was bad.
"So," he said as their food arrived, in a desperate attempt to keep off the subject of the relations between them, "how is school? I don't think I've ever asked."
Elizabeth eyed him for a second, then decided he didn't sound at all like her Uncle Frank asking his niece about her life as if she were still in the second grade. "It's all right," she replied. "A bit stressed about senior year and all, finding a job."
"English major?" he asked, remembering Wordsworth.
"Yeah. Which of course makes me highly qualified for any number of thrilling professions," she cracked.
"You could teach high school," he teased, suspecting that she would never do any such thing.
The slightly nauseated look on her face confirmed that. "Children? Good Lord. I'll write for the National Enquirer first."
"You could write those exciting pamphlets about vacationing in the Bahamas," he added, not even bothering to hide his smile.
"I could write computer manuals that people can actually understand."
"Cooking instructions that at least sound like English."
"Nah, I would have to learn to cook first." Their eyes met and they both laughed. "Seriously, though, I have been giving the matter some thought - obviously."
"And?"
"And I've decided that nothing would make me happier than to work for you." His face drained of color, and Elizabeth picked up a breadstick and tossed it neatly into the exact center of his plate. "Relax, I'm kidding."
He tried to breathe again. "I knew that. So what are you going to do?"
"Well, I could go to grad school and become a college professor. . ."
"But you don't really want to?"
She frowned. "I don't know if I could handle being in school the rest of my life."
"Good point."
"So what I think I'm going to do is go to work for a publishing house."
"Really?"
"Sure." She crossed her legs under the table and leaned forward with excitement. "What could be better than reading new books all the time and being the person who decides which ones get printed? And I can go back to school any time."
"True." He sat for a moment in somber contemplation of the thought that had just occurred to him. Elizabeth was so - young. Not in the sense that she was naive, or stupid, or immature, because she certainly was not any of those things, but in the sense that she had so much energy, so much enthusiasm about her future. He'd never had that. Then again, he'd always known what his future would be. He felt an odd twinge of jealousy.
"What about you?" Elizabeth was asking. "Did you go to grad school?"
"Sort of," he replied. "I finished my MBA while working at the company."
"Oh." She found herself without a suitable reply. She was picturing herself at twenty-one only with no choice of her future career and a little sister completely dependent on her. She didn't want to pity him; she had a feeling he would be insulted. But she almost couldn't help it.
"So," he said, trying to restart the conversation, "will you be going home to work at this publishing house?"
"Oh no," she replied. "I was thinking of New York."
"New York?"
"If I get a job, that is."
"I like New York," he replied. "We have our main office there, actually. My dad always worked out of the family house in the country, so I did the same, but most of the action goes on at our building there."
"Oh." What was the matter with her? Elizabeth had never been the type to be tongue-tied.
"Elizabeth?" She was so deep in mentally berating herself that it took her a moment to realize her name was in fact being spoken outside her head.
"Yes?"
He twisted the college ring on his right hand and looked slightly away from her. "Do I seem old to you?"
"Old?"
"Yes. I mean, do you feel like you're being lectured on life by your uncle or something?"
"Not really."
"Not really? But a little?"
"Well, you are older than I am, although not by much."
"Less than you think."
"Three years, Georgiana told me."
"Oh." He had no reply for this. They really were becoming brilliant conversationalists, the pair of them.
"Why do you ask?" she wondered. As soon as the question had left her mouth she regretted it. Obviously he found her young and immature. She blushed, and hated herself for it.
"Because I feel old," he replied. "I mean, three years really stops being a big deal once you hit your twenties - so essentially you and I are the same age, and I can't remember ever having as much energy as you do."
"That's just because you're so responsible."
"And you're not? You're responsible for everyone else in your dorm, but you still have a life."
Elizabeth laughed, deep in her throat this time, and William's heart unexpectedly skipped a beat (not that anyone ever expects their heart to skip a beat). "Guess again," she said, smiling ruefully at him over the rim of her water glass. "I study, and I go to meetings, and I play lacrosse, and then I study. I don't even miss having a life - I don't have time."
He grinned. "I certainly know that feeling. I guess that explains something."
"What?"
Oops. Well, there was nothing for it now but to tell her. The only way to survive this one was to look nonchalant. He put on his best charming-uncle-who-doesn't-mean-anything grin. "I was wondering why you were still single."
To both of their very great surprises, she blushed again. Her blue eyes darkened to a midnight color and he had to tighten his grip on his fork. She took a moment to get over her embarrassment. "I'm always single," she said, trying to sound lighthearted. "Unless you count Bill Collins."
Oops. Not a good reference. He tried to ignore the deepening blush on her face and the heat he was beginning to feel reaching his own and asked, "Why is that?"
"No time, never met the right person, whatever." She had managed to recover her composure enough to give him the standard answer.
"But you're. . ."
She looked up quickly. "I'm what?"
Don't blow this one, buddy. "You're - fun."
"Fun?"
"And - nice." I have got to do better than that. "And I'm sure you know you're brilliant. I read two sentences of your Wordsworth essay and that was enough to tell it was better than anything I ever thought of."
She smiled wryly. "Ah, but not all guys are interested in the life of the mind, William. Not everyone can be as discerning as yourself."
"They shouldn't need to be!" he almost burst out. "You're not seriously going to tell me that you don't know you're beautiful."
Elizabeth honestly hadn't thought she could blush anymore. "I wasn't fishing," she muttered in confusion, trying to hide her face.
"I know that," he replied. "And I wasn't trying to compliment you, just to tell the truth."
She smiled with one side of her mouth and managed a "thanks."
"Elizabeth?"
"Yes?"
"Why aren't we fighting?"
She grinned. "I must be tired."
"Makes you wonder, doesn't it?"
She frowned at him across the table. "Wonder about what?"
"Well, obviously we can be together without quarreling, so why do we?"
"Why do we quarrel?"
"Yeah."
She observed him for a moment before saying with a perfectly straight face, "Because you can't help thinking you're above me and are therefore trying desperately to resist ever enjoying my company, and I resent your thinking you're above me and therefore take nearly everything you say as an insult."
"Wow," he said. "Elizabeth?"
"What?"
"Don't take this as an insult."
She looked up at him suspiciously. "What?"
"It takes a lot of effort."
"What does?"
He cleared his throat, figuring he was sunk already and might as well be honest. "Pretending I don't enjoy your company. It takes effort."
She smiled a real, honestly delighted smile. "William?"
"Yes?"
"You're not really as big a snob as I thought."
He beamed. "Thanks."
"William?"
"Yes?"
She took a deep breath. "We've been flirting since the day we met, haven't we?"
"Yes," he replied. There really was no other answer.
"We're still doing it, aren't we?"
"Elizabeth, I don't think we can stop."
"That's a bad sign, isn't it?"
He nodded. "I think we need to talk. A lot."
By the time William and Elizabeth had somehow made their way out of the crowded restaurant, it had become impossible to tell which was more embarrassed, or indeed more terrified, about the forthcoming conversation. By the time they made it across the street to a deserted bench under a street lamp, William had begun to fear that he might never breathe properly ever again.
"So," Elizabeth said with obvious trepidation. "What did you want to talk about?"
They stared each other down for a moment. As if you didn't know.
Maybe I do, but I want you to say it.
You're not going to win this one.
Maybe not, but I'm also not letting you off the hook.
William sighed. There was no arguing with that. She hadn't said a word, but she didn't have to. Loud and clear. Damn those eyes.
Sensing that she had won their silent argument, Elizabeth leaned back against the bench. "Well?"
He sighed again. The woman's making me sentimental. "What do you mean, well? You know as well as I do what's going on. If we keep on like this we're either going to kill each other or both of us are going to die of frustration, whichever comes first."
"Are you that desperate?" she asked slyly.
"You know what I mean."
"Oh, I know exactly what you mean."
He looked up in relief. "You do?"
"Sure. You're attracted to me" (he noticed she couldn't say that without blushing) "but you still think that a relationship with me would be beneath your dignity both in terms of my age and my social - and might I add religious - status."
He gaped.
"Am I wrong?"
"I never thought about it," William stammered. "I've been too busy not liking you."
"Why?"
"Because you didn't like me!" he burst out.
"And what gave you that idea?" she pressed with a knowing smile. A smile like that could only mean she could prove this whole thing was his fault.
"Well, when you -" When she'd overheard him talking to Georgie, of course, and had teased him about his class snobbishness. "All right, it's my fault."
"Your fault?"
Wow, she was not going to let this go. "It's my fault that you didn't like me, or that I thought you didn't, or whatever." He had nothing left to lose, after all. "Any more theories?"
"Oh, yes."
He rolled his eyes heavenward in silent supplication. "Well don't hold back. Let's hear it."
"We would never have been in this situation if we had liked each other."
"Now that you're going to have to explain."
She held her hands up in front of her as if to demonstrate. "You singled me out that first day as, I can only imagine, the premier undesirable amongst many - probably because you had seen me play a game before, right? But your singling me out made Georgiana suspicious, which is what brings us to this evening. But besides that, putting yourself on your guard against me made you scrutinize everything I did, and made you much more conscious of me. Had I been any other girl with the same looks you would never have given me a second glance, but you had fixated on me and so whenever we met you got agitated - and at some point probably noticed that you rather liked being agitated." She paused in her lecture to study his face. "I'm right, aren't? I know," she waved away his objection, "you never thought about it before."
"What about you?" he countered. "Are you telling me you sat around analyzing our relationship as a purely intellectual pursuit?"
"No," she said cheerfully. "You were a challenge. A fun challenge. Had I thought you really hated me or thought I was ugly or something I would have put you right out of my mind. But I could tell we had some kind of link right from the start - and that it was driving you insane. I was having a good time pushing you over the edge."
"That's good of you."
"I try."
"So when did it become something else?"
"What?" He had managed to erase the self-satisfied look from her face. "What do you mean?"
"When did you stop thinking of it as just a project to drive your friend's uptight brother crazy, and start to get involved?"
"Now wait a minute," she said, her nervousness betraying her. "Who said I was involved?"
"I did."
"Well you're wrong."
"Am I?" He could barely keep the smirk off his face.
"Yes." She sounded defensive. He was winning.
"I think I'm right. I think you started to get involved right back before we had that argument in the coffee shop. I think that's why you got so mad at me, that's why you acted so strangely when I came to talk to you, and that's why you asked me to kiss you at the party."
"That was because of Bill!" she replied angrily.
"It was not!" he retorted. "Maybe on the surface, but you were just looking for an excuse."
"I was not!"
"Then why didn't you just leave the room?"
Elizabeth's mouth opened, but nothing came out.
He grinned. "See?"
She had recovered her powers of speech (which, to be perfectly honest, never deserted her for long). "You're wrong."
"All right." He leaned toward her just the smallest fraction of an inch. "So if I kissed you right now, you would. . ."
"Break it off, get up, and leave," she replied firmly.
"Are you sure?"
"I might smack you too, but who knows."
"I don't think you would."
Her eyes widened, but she maintained her aggressive posture. "Oh no?"
He shook his head. "No."
"Then you're delusional."
He considered this for a very brief moment before he kissed her.
William was not entirely sure for what length of time he kissed Elizabeth. While not placing great faith in her professed ability to withstand his charms, he was rather counting on her to end the embrace and administer such punishment as she deemed necessary. He was positive that at any moment she would pull away from him. At any moment. Any moment now.
After what seemed like several hours, but was in fact four and a half minutes, Elizabeth did pull away from him. She took a deep breath, which made her chest heave, and stared him down calmly. Too calmly. William began to fear that she might really hit him. Perhaps very hard.
She took several more deep breaths. He watched, trying to contain his own reactions to the experience - which had been, incidentally, still more intense than their first kiss at Georgiana's party. Finally, something in Elizabeth's eyes registered the fact that she had made up her mind.
She took another deep breath, and stood up. As William watched, admittedly in some shock and with his mouth probably hanging open, she very calmly and slowly walked away.
He wasn't quite sure what he had expected, but fairly sure that he hadn't expected her to walk away. Vain or not, he honestly hadn't expected that she would be able to. It took a few moments for him to muster the ability to speak.
"Elizabeth?" he called in a voice that sounded pathetic even to himself.
She stopped in her tracks but did not face him. "William?"
Well, what do I say now? "What are you doing?"
She still did not turn. "Exactly what I said I would. I decided not to hit you. Consider it a gift."
"Where are you going?"
"Home," she said to the empty street in front of her. "Where else would I go?"
"You could come back here to me." Where on earth had that come from? William Darcy might do many things, but he did not beg.
She remained absolutely still, as if considering the idea. "I don't think so."
"Why not?" My God, man, have you no pride?
Elizabeth's statue-like stance did not change. "I doubt it would be a good idea."
Unseen (obviously, since she wasn't looking at him) by her, a sly smile spread across William's face. He rose soundlessly from the bench and walked with infinite slowness and patience toward Elizabeth's turned back. He laid every step upon the pavement heel first, rolling his toes down onto the ground without so much as a creak or the snap of a twig. She didn't move, doubtless waiting for his answer, for him to plead with her. He did not take so long that she grew at all suspicious. In fact, she was only just beginning to wonder what he was doing when his arm snaked around her waist from the back and, ignoring her surprised gasp, pulled her against him. "Whyever not?" he whispered close to her ear.
Caught as she was, Elizabeth had no choice but to let her head rest back against his shoulder - it was either that, or lose the last vestiges of her dignity in struggling. "If you insist," she said after making a stern effort to control her voice, "I think you and I are a bad idea."
Ignoring the curious stares of a passing trio of college girls, William wrapped his other arm around Elizabeth's waist and covered both her hands with his own, trapping them against her body. "Why?" he whispered even more quietly, rubbing tiny circles with his thumb on the back of her left hand.
"Because," she replied just as quietly, and he blanched for a moment at hearing real distress in her voice, "because I don't think I could trust you, and I don't think it would be good for either of us."
For a moment he was tempted to release her, but he fought that impulse and instead tightened his grip almost painfully. "You don't trust me?" he repeated angrily. "Would you mind telling me why?"
Elizabeth winced at both the angry tone and the vise-like grip. "I'm sorry!"
"Don't apologize; explain!"
She heaved an enormous sigh - as well as she could, with his arms clamped around her ribs. "I'm afraid that what you're doing - that what you want - isn't what I would want from a relationship."
His grip didn't loosen. "And what do you think I want?"
She couldn't look at him - or wouldn't have been able to, even if she could have twisted her head around. "I'm still afraid that you couldn't be serious about someone like me."
The anger had still not gone out of his voice. "Someone like you? And what, exactly, would that be?"
She didn't move a muscle, realizing the futility of struggling against his arms. "I'm too young, I'm poor, I'm from a huge family that you think are trailer trash, I'm the wrong religion - and I know that's important - and I wouldn't fit in with your kind of people."
His arms tightened even more, and more painfully, across her midsection. "I hate my kind of people!"
She almost smiled. "You don't mean that."
His grip almost relaxed. "No, I don't. But I am tired of dating those women. I feel like I've dated them all before. I have dated them all before." She opened her mouth to protest and he clapped his hand over it. "You're not too young; you said yourself there's only three years between us, and you're probably better educated and more practical than I am, so there's nothing wrong with your mental age. And while I may, at first, have been a bit unfair as to your family background, you have managed to teach me that I can enjoy the company of someone who doesn't have money. There! I hope you're happy! And furthermore," he pressed his hand more tightly over her lips to suppress the strangled sounds emitting from them, "not being a terribly religious man myself, I actually have very little against Catholics and have absolutely no qualms about dating one!"
There was absolute silence as he waited for her response. After a moment he realized that she could not respond with his hand over her mouth, and released her hastily.
"Thanks," she grumbled, licking bruised lips experimentally. "Is it my turn now?"
"Make my day."
"Has it occurred to you that I might not want to pledge my soul to a man who resorts to physical aggression to - umph!"
His hand securely over her mouth once more, William whispered, "You want to try that again?" He released her experimentally.
"Are you just going to keep smothering me until I agree with you?"
He leaned in until his lips were brushing her cheek. "Are you telling me you're not enjoying it?"
She eyed his hands, firmly clasping her chin. "Hmm."
"Hmm?"
"Hmm," she affirmed.
"What are you thinking?"
"I'm thinking about biting your fingers," she replied cheerfully.
"Elizabeth!" he groaned, dangerously close to whining. "I'm serious, here."
"Can I at least turn around?" she requested. "I promise not to bolt."
Hands on her hips, he spun her in his arms and held her just as tightly against his chest. "There," he said triumphantly.
She sighed. "It all sounds good, William, but. . ."
His face fell. "But, what you're saying is, you're not interested. You should have just said that in the first place."
"No!" Elizabeth exclaimed before she could stop herself. "That's not - I mean . . ."
He leaned closer - she hadn't thought it possible, but apparently it was. "So you are interested?"
She sighed. "Of course."
In his excitement he took hold of both sides of her face and beamed at her. "Really?"
She couldn't seem to match his exuberance. "Yes," she said flatly. "William - I want to be honest with you. I can't help wanting to - I mean -" She stopped, took a deep breath, and tried again - not an easy task with his hands still cradling her face. "I am attracted to you - I think almost anyone would be." Her dry tone was not lost on him - he smiled ruefully. "But," she continued, "I - I'm afraid to -"
"Shh," he interrupted, stroking her hair back from her face with his thumbs. "Don't be." At her wordless head shake he smiled and kissed her, lightly and briefly, on the mouth. "You are different from anyone I've ever known - and that's a good thing," he said, still smiling. "So whatever it takes for me to prove to you that I have only the most honorable intentions, I will do that. I swear. Just give me a chance." He searched her face for an answer. "Okay?"
She opened her mouth and discovered that nothing was coming out. At a complete loss, she shook her head and smiled.
"Yes?" he asked incredulously. "Is that yes?"
She couldn't speak. She nodded.
"Could I have a kiss please?"
She shook her head. No.
His face fell. "Why not?"
She grinned. "I think you bruised my lips."
William and Elizabeth walked without speaking back up to the college from downtown, stopping in front of the stately brick dorm where he felt he had spent the better part of his recent life. "Here we are," he said lamely.
"We sure are," she echoed. They looked at each other.
"Well," he said.
"Well," she said.
"Should I walk you in?" he asked.
She grinned. "Do you really think that's a good idea?"
"Don't trust yourself, huh?"
"That's it, I just can't resist you." She positively beamed at him, and he could no longer resist the temptation.
"Well, since this is good-night then. . ." His arm snaked around her waist, drawing her close, and he bent to kiss her under the warm glow of the porch light.
A twig snapped behind him and Elizabeth pulled away as if she'd been poked with a cattle prod. "Hi, Norah," she said brightly while subtly trying to straighten her hair.
William worked very hard on not looking up or turning around, despite the fact that he could feel the back of his neck burning. "Oh God," he muttered. "Is she still there?"
Elizabeth pressed her lips to his cheek and whispered, "Actually it was a squirrel. Gotcha."
He looked behind him furiously before turning on her. "You little. . ." Any further epithets he might have had in mind were lost as he kissed her again.
She pulled away finally and said, "You know we're going to have to talk about this."
"Sure," he said, nodding solemnly and rubbing her sides with gentle hands.
"I mean, we'll have to decide how this is going to work."
"Sure." He leaned in close, close enough to catch the light scent of her hair, and kissed her cheek. "I'll call you tomorrow. Good-night."
"Good-night." She kissed him back and then smiled and unlocked the door, stepping inside and pulling it shut behind her all in one fluid motion. He stood for a moment looking at the door, then turned with a broad grin and started the long walk back to his car.
On the other side of the door Elizabeth leaned against the wall, trying to control the vague feeling of nervous nausea in the pit of her stomach. "Why did I go and do that?" she asked herself aloud. "What in God's name was I thinking?"
"What were you thinking when you did what?"
Eveline's voice startled her and she jumped noticeably. "Oh, hi, Evie. Nothing."
Eveline smiled. "Sure, nothing. You want to tell me about it?"
Elizabeth sighed deeply, which gave her away completely - Elizabeth not being a person given to sighing in general. She gave Eveline a half-hearted smile. "Would you believe I'm having computer trouble?"
"Sure," Eveline replied. "If your computer is tall, dark, handsome, and walking away from this door as we speak."
"What am I doing?" Elizabeth asked rhetorically.
"You're standing in the living room in the middle of the night wailing about Georgiana's brother, that's what you're doing."
"What?" Elizabeth jerked to attention. "Who said anything about Georgiana's brother?"
"You didn't have to," Eveline replied smugly. "I saw your little performance on her birthday, and I'm guessing he and Mr. Computer Trouble out there have a lot in common - like their identity."
Elizabeth groaned and directed herself into an arm chair, more convenient for bemoaning her present state of affairs.
"It can't be that bad," Eveline offered, sitting across from her. "He seemed interested."
"He is," Elizabeth wailed, "that's the problem."
"Okay, now I don't follow you. This guy, absolutely gorgeous, rich - I know him through Rob, remember? - and basically nice, a little stiff, but nice - likes you, and this is a problem for you?"
Elizabeth wrinkled her nose. "What do I smell?"
"Ramen." Eveline produced a bowl of the salty noodle soup from under a napkin. "Want some?"
Elizabeth accepted a spoonful of noodles and took the opportunity to swallow slowly and plan her response. "You know I don't date."
"I know." Eveline blew on her ramen to cool it. "What I don't know is why."
"More trouble than it's worth."
"Explain."
Elizabeth sighed, then made a mental note to stop doing that. "College relationships never turn out to be serious - no offense - and if they do they don't seem to work afterwards - you both change so much."
"But you're almost finished college, and he is done."
"That's another thing. He's older, he has a life already. I would have to fit into it after I graduate, and what if what I have planned doesn't work with his established lifestyle?"
"Whoa there, Bets," Eveline interrupted. "You aren't marrying him yet." She squinted at Elizabeth suspiciously. "Are you?"
"Lord, no." Elizabeth laughed and rolled her eyes heavenward. "I would have to train him better first. But what's the point of having a relationship at our age if you don't think it has the potential to be serious?"
"Fun?" Eveline suggested.
"Waste of my time," Elizabeth returned.
"So you're not dating him - why? Because you're afraid it won't be serious, or because you're afraid it will?"
"I think I'm afraid of both," Elizabeth said flatly. "And," she confessed, "I think I am dating him."
"Well, woohoo," Eveline said cheerfully. "You should."
"I'm petrified."
"That's why. You need to loosen up."
Elizabeth's eyes widened slightly. "And you think William Darcy is going to loosen me up? Eveline darling, what have you been smoking?"
Eveline laughed and nearly spilled her ramen. "Okay, okay, point taken. But why do you think he wants to go out with you?"
Elizabeth shrugged. "I'm afraid it's just physical."
"Do you really think that?"
"I have nothing else to go on."
They were silent for a moment. Elizabeth reached over and stole another spoonful of noodles. "Georgiana doesn't know," she said.
"Would that be bad?"
"She set us up tonight."
Eveline burst out laughing again. "Way to go, Georgie! So why haven't you told her that her little scheme worked?"
"Because I'm afraid if William and I start something and she knows about it, then when we break up it'll affect my relationship with Georgiana - and as a friend and one of my residents I don't want that to happen. Plus, since it's in the contract that I'm not supposed to have an "exclusive relationship" with any of my residents. . ."
"Because going out with a resident would be favoritism. . ."
"Then. . ."
"Is it against the rules to go out with a resident's brother?" Eveline finished. "I wonder."
Elizabeth frowned. "I don't want to get in trouble - nor do I want everyone else in the dorm thinking I favor Georgie."
Eveline was quiet for a moment before asking, "Are you so sure you would break up?"
"Doesn't everyone?"
"No, Betsey, some couples get married and have babies and stay together till death do us part in little white houses with picket fences," Eveline said patiently.
"I'm afraid ours would be rather a big white house," Elizabeth joked wickedly.
"There, that's better," Eveline approved. "Here's what I think - go out with him, just keep it under wraps for a while."
"You think so?"
Eveline held out the ramen bowl for Elizabeth to claim another bite. "Good relationships aren't easy to come by - you owe this one a chance."
Due to the immediate concerns of the work he'd been neglecting of late, William found himself swamped and unable to talk to Elizabeth for the rest of the week. She wasn't particularly disappointed - she had lots of work to do, needed some time to think about their relationship, and also really hated those girls who called their boyfriends every day to ask them what they'd had for breakfast. In the meantime she wrote two more papers on Wordsworth - both quite good - and made a hearty attempt at not failing her Italian class.
She was, in fact, so engrossed that Friday afternoon in the intricacies of the past subjunctive (congiuntivo passato) that the ringing phone startled her into falling off the bed. "Hello?" she asked anxiously while trying to put her mattress back in place.
"Elizabeth?" William asked on the other end. "Are you all right?"
"Great," she lied, rubbing at the massive bruise forming on her thigh. "Just wasn't expecting a call."
"Oh." Across the state in his corner office he smiled and leaned back in his chair. "Good surprise, though, right?"
"Oh, definitely - hell!"
"What?" he asked, alarmed.
"Nothing," Elizabeth responded from the middle of her floor. "I had an argument with my mattress and it won."
"Where is it now?" he asked, concerned about the amount of static coming from her end.
"On my head," she replied calmly. "I'm sure I'll get out sooner or later. Right now I'm a bit tired."
"I understand," he lied, beginning to wonder whether she was feeling quite well. "What have you been up to?"
"Making a hearty attempt at not failing my Italian class," she said honestly. A conspicuous rustle told him she was still under the mattress.
"È dificile?"* he asked, grinning into the phone.
Elizabeth's eyes lit up. "Sì, è molto dificile! Non posso capire il congiuntivo - ma mi piace la letteratura."
"Ti piace l'opera italiana?"
"Sì! Soprattutto La traviata." She suddenly shrieked and shouted, "Questo maledetto materasso. . ."
"Are you still there?" William asked through his laughter.
"Oh, just fine," she replied.
"Tell you what," he promised. "Someday soon I'll come and drag you out from under the mattress and take you to the opera. The company has season tickets at the Met."
"In New York?" she fairly shouted. "For that I'll fight the mattress myself."
He smiled to himself, then noticed he had been doing that rather a lot lately and wondered if his employees thought he was crazy. "How are you really, Elizabeth?" he asked more seriously.
Elizabeth settled back against a corner of the mattress covering most of her body and answered honestly, "Mostly okay."
"Mostly?"
"William," she asked nervously, "do you think we should keep this under wraps?"
He somehow understood immediately. "Your job?"
"Mmm-hmm. I'm just not sure. . ."
"Hey, it's okay," he reassured her. "I'm just relieved you're not calling the whole thing off."
"I thought about it," she admitted quietly.
William froze for just a second, then relaxed. "I'll take comfort in the knowledge that if you'd really wanted to call it off, you would have."
She laughed. "Yes, I would."
"Should I come up there?" he asked. "Unearth you from the mattress? Talk?"
"Can you without. . ."
"I'll tell Georgie I'm here to see her - then I'm sure she'll want to go somewhere with her friends Saturday night, and I'll stay at the dorm."
"Will she buy that?" Elizabeth asked. "It's a little weak."
"Weaker than, say, making up college rules about people over 24?"
"Low blow," she accused, but she was laughing.
"See you tomorrow then?"
"If you don't get caught," she teased.
"Ciao, carissima."**
She blushed even though no one could see her. "Good-bye."
True to his word, the following night there was a knock at Elizabeth's door. She was impressed - she hadn't seen his car or any other signs of him. Then again, maybe it wasn't him - maybe it was Nancy wanting to borrow a stapler. "Who is it?" she called.
"James Bond - would you let me in before somebody sees me?"
She opened the door a foot and dragged him inside. "Hurry up."
"Your friend Grace heard me last time, you know - when we were looking for George."
Elizabeth frowned. "Did she think anything?"
"She did, but I'm sure it's worn off by now."
"I hope."
"Hey." William pushed the door all the way shut. "Hello."
"Hello." He kissed her very thoroughly standing just inside her room, running his fingers through her long hair. When they had finally parted he looked up. "I see the mattress won the battle but lost the war."
She followed his line of sight and laughed. "Indeed."
"Any casualties?"
"Just my thigh." He looked involuntarily at the thigh in question and turned vaguely red. Oops. "Otherwise no wounded," she covered quickly.
"Elizabeth," he started, reaching for her hands.
"I'm sorry," she said. "It's just a little weird. I mean, one minute we can't stand each other, the next minute we're spying on strange men from my bedroom window, and now suddenly you're speaking Italian and holding my hands and it's just a little odd."
"It is," he agreed. "So what do you suggest?"
"I've been thinking. . ."
"I bet," he cracked. She shot him a dirty look, and he gestured for her to continue.
She took a deep breath. "Let me see if I can explain this so it makes sense outside my head. Can't we just forget about dating and just - be?"
"Be?" he echoed. "You mean, just be like ordinary friends only with fringe benefits?"
"Exactly."
He nodded. "Sure, I can understand that. Sounds perfect, in fact."
"Good."
"Good." He paused for a moment or so. "So let's talk about those fringe benefits. . ."
She threw a throw pillow at him. That being, of course, what throw pillows are for.
*You could probably guess this on your own, but the translation reads, "Is it hard?" "Yes, it's very hard. I can't understand the subjunctive - but I like the literature." "Do you like Italian opera?" "Yes, especially La traviata," followed by, "This d-mned mattress. . ."**"Good-bye, dearest."