“Why did she call you?” Elizabeth asked. “Are you friends?”
He shook his head, relieved that at least she wasn’t bolting out the door. He supposed the alcohol had done him a favor there, mellowing her out enough to listen. How do I explain the actions of a drunk woman when I haven’t a clue about them myself?
Will eyed Elizabeth carefully. She took a deep breath in and let it out slowly. Her eyes met his, and he could read the doubt and uncertainty there. His gut twisted painfully. She wasn’t angry with him. She was hurt. Yet she was trying very hard to listen to his excuses.
Don’t screw this up, Darcy. “No,” he said directly. “We’re not friends. I don’t know why she called me, honestly, other than she’s Charles’s sister and she knows I live near the bar. I wouldn’t have gone at all if I had been able to reach any of the Bingleys.” He sighed heavily and ran one hand through his hair. “I only took the call in the first place because I didn’t stop to check the number before I answered.”
Elizabeth lifted her head. “You always check to see who’s calling.”
He could feel his cheeks warming. “I hoped it was you.”
There was quiet, and then, “Did you go to her apartment, Will?”
His heart leapt. At least here he could be definitive. “I went to her building and left her with her sister. I did not go past the lobby.”
“I thought you said you couldn’t get in touch with the other Bingleys?” Her tone was controlled, but mild—she was seeking an explanation, not making an accusation.
“I found Louisa Bingley’s number on Caroline’s phone and left a rather angry message. I told her either she met me there or I was dropping Caroline off at the nearest ER. I wouldn’t leave her alone in case she’d managed to poison herself, but I was not about to pull drunk duty. My college days are over.”
She nodded. “Anything else I should know?”
Will squeezed his eyes shut. He could just skip over this part, but if she ever found out on her own—or God forbid there was a photo somewhere—it would be ten times as bad. “Yes. She kissed me.”
Elizabeth swallowed, and her face flushed.
It was admirable, really, how she was forcing herself to remain calm. Calm enough to have the conversation, in any case. Will prayed that her determination to hear him out would last just a little longer. He noticed when she shifted that her fingers were tucked under her thighs. She is literally sitting on her hands, he thought nervously.
“She kissed you,” Elizabeth repeated, with careful emphasis. “You are telling me that you did not kiss her back?”
Will bared his teeth in disgust at the thought. “Elizabeth, I can swear on my parents’ graves that I did not kiss her back.” He continued, his words becoming just a bit testy, “I came home, washed my mouth out with industrial-strength mouthwash, and waited for your text to tell me you were okay.” He scowled at her. “Oh, wait—you didn’t send me one. You had your sister do it.”
The corners of her mouth twitched slightly, and he relaxed a bit. “Sloppy drunk kiss, huh?” she asked.
Jealous. Will almost smiled but was certain that would not be well received. He rolled his eyes and took her hand. “I yelled at her. She was so far gone it didn’t even register.”
Elizabeth didn’t say anything, but she nodded. She took another deep breath. “Thank you for telling me.” She touched his hand. “If something like that happens again, I would like you to tell me before my little sister sees it on the Internet.”
She was silent then, and Will finally asked, “You believe me, don’t you?”
“This is really hard for me, Will,” she said quietly. “Being a civilian for the first time in my adult life—it’s not easy. In the Marines, there are pretty clear rules for dating someone—who, when, how. Being with you—it’s wonderful, really, but it’s different, and sometimes I feel adrift. I’m trying to adapt.” Her gaze was steady. “I’m an optimist, but I’m also pragmatic. I know a man like you will always have more than his share of attention from women.” She rubbed her palms up and down her thighs. “I can forgive a lot of things, but infidelity is a dealbreaker. If it ever gets to the point where you want to be with someone else, as much as it would hurt . . . I fully expect you to be honest and break it off with me first.” She worried her bottom lip, and then said, “I just want to get that out there.”
He opened his mouth to protest his innocence, but she held up her hand, palm out, to stop him. She took his hands, and he noticed hers were shaking slightly.
“Will Darcy,” she said, maintaining eye contact, “I trust you.”
He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, and she continued to speak.
“I believe you when you say Caroline Bingley kissed you, but it was a sneak attack. I believe you drove her home and left her with her sister. I believe you when you say nothing happened.”
He took her hands and touched his forehead to hers. “I am so sorry this hurt you, Elizabeth,” he murmured. “I would never do that to anyone I cared about, least of all you.” He pulled back. “But I will cheerfully strangle Charles’s sister if you ask me to.”
“You shouldn’t get that close to her, Will,” Elizabeth replied with just a hint of mischief. “She might try to kiss you again.”
“Not enough mouthwash in the world,” he grumbled, and she laughed. It was rather restrained, but it was genuine. He kissed her gently.
They both sat quietly for a few minutes, allowing the adrenaline to ebb away, before Will spoke again.
“I hate to drag defeat from the jaws of victory,” he said warily, “but other than that ridiculous photo, how did the day go?”
She grunted and shrugged. “It went well, at first,” she said without meeting his eye. “But after, Lyddie took me on a grand tour of the school.”
Will waited, but finally asked, “And?”
Elizabeth pulled at a loose piece of the label on her water bottle. “And guess whose recruiting posters were up in eight different boys’ bathrooms? You know, the place of honor, right above the toilet?”
He blinked. “Well, that’s, um . . .”
She raised an eyebrow. “Disgusting? Perverse? Horrifying?”
Will cleared his throat. “I suppose you’d hate me forever if I suggested it was kind of a compliment . . .”
“Well, it would put you in agreement with Lydia, so I’d worry about your sanity.” Her eyes closed, and her head tilted up to the ceiling as she leaned back on her hands.
“Okay,” he said with a sigh, reaching down to remove her shoes. He dropped them on the floor.
“I worked so hard,” she said, lying back on the bed and turning away from him. “And still . . .” She curled up in a ball, her knees to her chest. “I know they’re just stupid, hormonal kids, but it’s so . . .”
Will dropped down on the bed next to her and pulled her into his arms.
“Do you want me to grind them into powder?” he asked calmly. “Because I will. Every last pimply, cross-eyed one of them.”
She made a pffing sound. “I’d do it myself, but I’m afraid they might enjoy it.”
Will laughed softly and kissed her ear.
“Why are men like this, Will?” she asked plaintively, and he felt an ire building in him he hadn’t felt since Georgiana was sixteen and a boy she liked had insulted her in front of all his friends. Making the point that these were boys, not men, wouldn’t help.
“If you’re asking me why men find you attractive, Elizabeth, I’m afraid we’ll be here a really long time,” he replied, his voice perfectly controlled.
She turned toward him to pat his cheek. “You’re a sweet man,” she said. “I’d totally drunk-kiss you.”
He snorted and kicked off his own shoes. “With you, I wouldn’t mind.” He made a show of smelling her breath. “Though I might still need the mouthwash at this moment.”
She hit him gently with the back of her hand.
“Get some sleep, Elizabeth.”
He understood young men finding a slightly older woman attractive, particularly a stunning woman like Elizabeth. He understood they had needs and often thought less with the head on their shoulders than the one located a little further south. But they had disrespected her in a particularly galling way. Even if it was only temporary, they had made her feel small. That he could not abide.
He began to make a mental list of his resources. As he pondered the problem, he suddenly had an idea, and he knew just who to approach to make it happen. That crisis resolved, he allowed himself to think about something more pleasant—the surprise he had planned for Elizabeth.
It was still dark outside when Elizabeth felt someone shaking her shoulder. She turned on her side and tried to go back to sleep.
“Elizabeth,” Will said near her ear. “Wake up.”
“Why?” she moaned. “It’s the middle of the night.” She pulled a pillow over her head.
“You love being up in the middle of the night,” was his response, as he pulled the corner of the pillow from her face and stripped the blanket away in one fluid move. “C’mon, we’ve got a plane to catch.”
“We do?” This was interesting enough that Elizabeth sat up.
Will grinned. “We do.”
“Maine?” Elizabeth asked eagerly as they reached the gate, a steaming cup of coffee clutched in her hand. “What’s in Maine? Besides ocean and lobsters?” Her eyes widened suddenly, and she placed a hand on his arm. “Not that I’m complaining.”
Will smiled widely at her excitement. “It’s Maine, Elizabeth, not Paris,” he teased.
“But I’ve been to Paris, Will. I’ve never been to Maine,” she replied. She bit her bottom lip. “I hope you weren’t thinking of skiing. I don’t know how.” She was silent for no more than a second when she added, in a rush, “Will we walk on the beach? Will there be snow? Did you pack my boots?”
“I packed everything you had at the apartment,” Will said, removing the boarding passes from his coat pocket and handing them over to the gate agent, who waved them on. “I wasn’t sure what you’d want to have with you.”
“Except my equipment, I imagine?” she grinned at him, grabbing his hand. “How did you know I wouldn’t be working tonight?”
He laughed. “I asked, don’t you remember?”
She narrowed her eyes. “No,” she said slowly, but then recalled he had casually inquired about her schedule a few days back. She’d assumed it was to plan another outing in the city. “You are a tricky one, Mr. Darcy,” she scolded, but kissed him anyway.
They reached the end of the walkway and Elizabeth began to head to the back part of the plane. Will had stopped to place his carry on in the overhead compartment and turned to see her back moving away from him. “Elizabeth,” he called to her, gesturing at the seats. “We’re up here.”
She tilted her head back, embarrassed at her mistake. “Of course,” she said sarcastically to the ceiling. “William Darcy doesn’t fly coach.”
He tapped his legs. “These don’t fit in coach. Unless you want me sticking them out in the aisle and tripping people, first class is the safest place for me.”
“So kind of you to always be thinking of others,” she replied mockingly, and returned to the seats. They were wide and plush with plenty of leg room. “I never thought I’d get to ride in first class again,” she told him as she brushed past him to sit next to the window. “This is a great trip,” she told him happily, raising the window shade and then turning to face him. “Thank you.”
“Elizabeth, we haven’t even left the ground yet,” he responded laughingly.
“Doesn’t matter,” she insisted. “A surprise, a new place to explore, first-class seats, and you.” She squeezed his hand. “There couldn’t be a better start.”
A nap during the flight hadn’t dampened Elizabeth’s excitement about the trip at all, but she had mellowed somewhat in her expression of it. Will was almost disappointed, until he observed the extra bounce in her step as they gathered their bags.
“Mr. Reynolds!” he called, raising his arm, and a wiry man of medium height and a headful of bushy white hair raised his in greeting, stepping up to meet them. The man was out of place, wearing a dark suit and tie with a white shirt in a crowd of people in plaid shirts or neon skiing gear. He took their bags and placed them on a cart before turning to Will and smiling expectantly.
“Mr. Reynolds, this is Elizabeth Bennet. Elizabeth, Mr. Jack Reynolds.”
Elizabeth shook the man’s hand. “It’s very nice to meet you, Mr. Reynolds,” she said pleasantly. She raised an eyebrow at Will, which he ignored. He took hold of her hand, and they trailed after Mr. Reynolds, who was speaking into a phone as he walked. As they reached the curb, a dark town car pulled up, and Will opened the door for her.
“Will,” she hissed as he slid in the back seat beside her, “how do you know Mr. Reynolds?” She tapped the partition. “Is this soundproof?”
“Yes,” he assured her. “Also tinted so they can’t see.”
She tipped her head to one side. “And Mr. Reynolds?” she asked, unwilling to be deterred.
“I’ve known him a long time,” Will replied, but would say no more.
Mr. Reynolds stowed the luggage, then slid into the front passenger seat. As soon as he was buckled in, the car pulled out into traffic.
“Do you know the driver, too?” she asked pointedly.
He shook his head. “It’s a service.”
Elizabeth considered that. “How long is the drive?”
“About forty-five minutes,” he replied, checking his watch and looking out the window.
Elizabeth turned half-away from Will, pulled out her phone, and began to type. When Will saw what she was doing, he grabbed it from her hands and jammed it into his own pocket.
“Will!” she cried, laughing. “Give that back!”
“No using the Internet to figure out where we’re going,” he said bluntly, shaking his head. “Cheater.”
“But I’m so curious!” she insisted, playfully grabbing a fistful of his shirt and tugging on it. “I have to know!”
He threw his arm around her and drew her in for a kiss. “I can think of better ways to spend that energy,” he said in a voice so low Elizabeth could hear a rumbling in his chest. He broke the kiss, but she lifted her head for another. Her fist gradually slackened its hold and migrated to the back of his neck.
“Oh,” she said breathlessly, when they finally came up for air. “I think you need to keep me fully distracted, Will, or I might have to use this.” She held up her free hand to reveal her cell phone. Will put one hand firmly on top of hers, effectively trapping the phone against the seat.
He leaned in to whisper in her ear. “Distraction coming up.”
When at last the car eased onto the private lane along the beach past a sign for Marshall Pt. Road, and Will pulled away, Elizabeth wasn’t even sure she cared if they were on Mars. Only when her mind cleared a bit did she see the water to one side of the road and the few homes on large lots of land that dotted the other.
“Only you would take me to the beach in November,” she said cheerfully.
“Well,” Will replied, scratching the top of his head, “we can always go back to the city.”
Elizabeth shook her head. “No way. You may never get me back to the city. This is amazing.”
“Just wait,” he said, squeezing her hand. “You haven’t seen the house yet.”
They were silent for a time as the car made its way down the road, and then Will pressed a button for the intercom. “Can you stop the car, please? We’ll meet you down there.”
The car rolled to a stop, and Will exited first, then turned around to offer Elizabeth his hand. As soon as they were out, he shut the door, and the car pulled away quietly. Will unwound his winter scarf and told Elizabeth to face the wa
ter. She did so without protest. Will tied the scarf around her eyes.
“No peeking,” he said solemnly. He carefully led her across the sand, then back onto the road, and finally, up a small rise. Elizabeth thought she smelled trees, maybe sugar maples, and then Will asked if she was ready.
“More than ready!” she crowed, clasping her hands together, and he lifted the blindfold.
Elizabeth’s smile fell away as she gazed on the house. For once, she had no words.
“Do you . . . do you like it?” he finally stuttered.
“Will, it’s . . . it’s just . . . beyond beautiful,” she said in a voice edged with awe.
Before her was a long house that appeared low to the ground but was simply built to take advantage of the sloping lot. Everything, in fact, was built to draw attention not to the structure, but to the nature surrounding it. The house was flanked by two stands of tall trees and a long flat expanse at the back that dipped gently to the water’s edge. From their slight elevation, she could see over the roof to the sandy beach beyond. It ended perhaps three-quarters of the way across the width of the property and was replaced by the kind of rocky shore she’d always associated with New England. Her eyes swept back to the front of the house, where she pointed at several trees that followed the curve of the walkway to a heavy, highly polished wooden door.
“Are those dogwoods?” she asked and watched while he nodded. “The blooms must be spectacular in the spring.”
“They are,” he said quietly. “They bloom a bit later here since we’re so far north, so when we came for the summer, the blooms were still pretty hardy.”
Elizabeth pulled back so she could look Will full in the face. “You came for the whole summer?” Understanding dawned. “You own this house?”
“Well,” he said, hesitating for a moment before reaching for her hand, “yes. It’s mine and Georgiana’s.” He pointed to the next house further down the sandy part of the beach, which was a more traditional two-story beach house with blue clapboard and white trim. “That’s my uncle and aunt’s house.”
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