Adapt
Page 23
I’m a fraud, she thought. An enormous fraud.
Chapter Twenty
It took an hour and a hearty breakfast before Elizabeth managed to scold herself back into good humor. She wandered around the room, reading through a list of all the amenities before tossing the paper back on the mahogany desk. It was a huge space for a hotel room. The bed had its own section, walled off from an additional space where a giant television was secured to the wall opposite a couch. There was a balcony, but in the light of the morning, she didn’t dare venture out. The hotel was just across the street from the university, and she wouldn’t take any chances of being photographed in her robe.
She entered the bathroom. The marble floor was cold under her feet. She reached up to touch the television hanging next to the mirror and suddenly felt like laughing. This was ridiculous. Who needs a television in the bathroom? She stared into the mirror. “You may not deserve to be here,” she said aloud to her reflection, “but who does?” She glared at herself. “You’re here. Deal with it.”
She wandered back to the bed, removing her robe and tossing it over a chair. She tugged the cuffs of her pajama top down and crawled onto the bed. She laid down on her stomach and buried her face in the nicest pillow she’d ever used. No, she corrected herself, Will’s the nicest pillow. She burrowed in, lifting the quilt and curling up beneath it.
“What’re you doing?” Will asked Richard as the town car merged onto the 280 freeway and began the journey south.
“Texting Gunny and Jane,” Richard replied.
His father scowled at him. “Need to know, Richard.”
Richard frowned in response. “It’s all over the Internet, Dad. I’m just letting them know she’s okay.”
Will was so focused on reaching Elizabeth and his sister he hadn’t even thought about her family. “Thanks,” he said gratefully. His cousin gave him a wink and returned to his task.
According to Will’s watch, they reached The Clement precisely thirty-eight minutes after leaving the airport. The town car had barely come to a stop before he was out, striding to the front counter for a key to Elizabeth’s room. It was fortunate there was no line, because he would have ignored it.
The men separated in the lobby. The senator wanted to meet a colleague to discuss the situation, so he’d booked one of the private conference rooms. Will knew his uncle would have liked him to attend, but he’d made it clear that he would be doing nothing of that sort until after he’d seen his sister and Elizabeth. Some sleep wouldn’t hurt either. After telling Will to let him know how “the girl and that other one” were doing, Richard followed his father down the hall. Will barely heard anything past the room numbers, but he gave Richard a brief nod on his way to the stairs.
The Clement was a small hotel with about twenty rooms or so and only three floors. He’d been here before and knew his way around, so he was upstairs in a flash.
He knocked on G’s door first.
A red-eyed Georgiana answered after his second knock, wearing a hotel robe and a distant expression. She pulled him into the room.
“I’m so sorry, Will,” she said in a rush, but wouldn’t meet his eyes. He stepped forward to embrace her, but she stopped him. “Wait.”
He dropped his arms, unsure, as she pursed her lips and said to her feet, “I thought I was an adult, Will, that I could handle my own life without your interference.”
He began to protest at that. “I never . . . “
G rolled her eyes. “Please. You chased away every boy who ever showed me even the tiniest bit of interest.”
“That’s not . . .” he spluttered as she took his arm and nearly shoved him onto the plush sofa in the sitting room.
“It is,” she replied, taking the seat next to him. “You might not have meant it . . . No, at least a part of you did. It’s why I refused to let Timothy pick me up at the apartment for prom. Remember?”
Will grunted. He remembered. He’d had to rely on her girlfriend’s mother for pictures. Georgiana had banned him from the whole thing, though he’d insisted on waiting up for her. She’d come home around two a.m., a reasonable time for prom, he thought with some satisfaction.
“See, right there,” she said, frustrated. “There’s that whole caveman bit you’re doing. Plus, did you have to mention to every boy who came over that our cousin was a Marine sniper?”
Will laughed a little. “That was just fun.”
G laughed a little too and slapped his arm with the back of her hand. “You know he wasn’t a sniper, you twit.”
He shrugged. “That’s what made it funny.”
“Well,” she said seriously, “it wasn’t funny to me. I know you were just trying to protect me, Will, but a little less protection and a little more talking would have made my life a lot better.”
He put his arm around her shoulder. “I’m sorry, G,” he said, truly remorseful. “I didn’t have a lot of time to learn how to parent. I made a few mistakes.” He heard her snort and huffed. “Okay, a lot of mistakes. I admit it, I was out of my depth. But I love you, and I won’t apologize for that.”
Georgiana looked up at him then, her eyes solemn. “I know. I was complaining about you to a friend after one of those ridiculous displays, and she pointed out that you didn’t have to keep me at home. You could easily have shipped me off to a boarding school somewhere and just brought me home at the holidays. She was sure her brother would have done that in a heartbeat.”
Incensed, Will replied, “I wouldn’t . . .”
“I know,” she interrupted quietly. “So I decided I needed to cut you some slack.”
“But not allow me to finish any of my sentences?” Will asked drily.
Georgiana grinned. “Nope.” She put a hand over his and continued, “Because you didn’t seem to trust my judgment, I guess I didn’t either.” Her gaze moved to the sliding doors out to the balcony. “I thought this would be a new start, that I would be just fine on my own, but clearly you were right.”
Will held his sister’s hand and thought about what he wanted to say. He was physically and emotionally exhausted, so it took a little time for the words to form. “I wasn’t right, G, not completely. I sent you out unprepared.” He sighed. “I trust you, but that trust has got to be returned. Let us help. We’ll . . .” he paused. This was a difficult promise to make. “I promise to wait for you to reach out to me as long as you promise me that you will. And I want to know if you’re dating. Who you’re dating. No more secrets.”
She nodded, then leaned into his shoulder. “I’ve missed you, Will,” she said in a small voice, and he hugged her closer.
Thank God, he thought, kissing the crown of her head. “I’ve missed you too, G.”
Will walked one door down the hallway and knocked, but there was no response. After a moment, he unlocked the door and stepped inside. Elizabeth was facing the window, curled up in the very center of the bed, one arm resting on top of the blanket. The dark blue of her pajama sleeve made a stark contrast against the white of the comforter. Her head rested on a white pillow, soft, dark brown hair spread out behind her like a fan. He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.
“Elizabeth?” he called softly, letting the door swing closed behind him.
She startled and sat up, then, but he shook his head at her, quickly kicking off his shoes, removing his belt, and shedding his jacket as he moved directly to the bed. He settled himself next to her, propped himself up against the headboard, and pulled her into his arms, holding her against his chest for a few long moments before loosening his embrace and stroking her cheek gently with his fingers.
To Will’s delight, the touch of his hand on her skin seemed to affect her as strongly as it did him. With a sigh of her own, she closed her eyes and unconsciously tilted her head up. He smiled and kissed her softly on the lips.
“So,” he finally said, one hand sliding down to the small of her back, “just thought you’d take G to dinner?”
She winced,
embarrassed, and wisecracked, “I didn’t realize it would be dinner and a show.”
His lips twisted in dark amusement, and he slipped his hand under her silky pajama top, rubbing it up and down her back. She sighed with contentment. Will could feel the tautness of her muscles relaxing at his touch. The strain in his own back, particularly his shoulders, began to ease.
It was more than a bit frightening to him how much he needed this woman. They hadn’t been going out all that long, but already any significant separation caused some anxiety for him. Of course, with Elizabeth, he assured himself, that anxiety was entirely rational. She didn’t seek trouble out, but it seemed to find her nonetheless. He held her a little tighter.
“So, what happened, exactly?” he asked. “Richard made me watch the videos, but they didn’t show what led up to it all.”
Elizabeth pulled herself to a sitting position next to him and took his hand. “Wickham was set to meet G for dinner and drinks—that’s how they knew where to find her.”
“Drinks?” Will asked sharply. This just keeps getting worse. Is she drinking? Doing drugs? She didn’t mention any of this when she was asking me to trust her.
Her face fell. “Please don’t get on her about that, Will. Lecturing her will only create more resistance. I’ve been there. Okay?”
He nodded, still a little peeved.
Elizabeth seemed to understand it. “Apparently, it’s just an after-dinner glass of wine. He was trying to make her feel grown-up.”
Or two. Or three. He could feel the scowl, even if he couldn’t see it.
She shook her head at him. “Are you really going to tell me you didn’t drink before you were legal?” Her eyebrow was arched, her expression skeptical.
“No, but only in private or at the fraternity house. That way there was no temptation to drive.”
Elizabeth folded her arms across her chest. “How responsible of you.”
He rolled his eyes. “Are you honestly going to argue with me about this? I just flew across the country to come to your rescue.” He could have slapped himself. Oh crap, that’s not what I meant.
“Excuse me?” she asked, irritated, pulling away.
“Damn it, Elizabeth,” he groaned, leaning forward and wrapping his now empty arms around his drawn-up knees. “I’m so tired, I can’t think straight. Can we just be glad to see each other for a few minutes?”
“Well,” she said, deflated, “if you’re going to be all reasonable about it . . .” She took his hand and drew in a deep breath. “I went to the bathroom and waited for the guy to show.” She went on to explain how she’d taken the pictures and contacted Abby.
“Who’s Abby?” he asked.
“Former colleague,” she replied. “She’s the one who sent me my first big jobs.” She raised an eyebrow. “Who’s George Wickham?”
He rubbed his eyes and was silent. Elizabeth fidgeted, but waited as he collected his thoughts. At last, he leaned back against the headboard and began. “Okay, you remember how I told you that I volunteered for the Boys and Girls Club?”
She nodded. “On the anti-bullying panel. You told me at The Diner.”
He gave her a lopsided smile. “Good memory. Richard doesn’t even remember my mentoring gig, and I’ve been doing that for four years.”
She snorted. “I’ve got a good memory for things if I can tie them to a face or a place,” she told him.
“Or a food,” he teased.
“Well,” was her quick rejoinder, “it is the best chili in the world.”
He shook his head. Get on with it. “The story I tell on that panel is the story about me and George.”
Elizabeth sat up to look at him, her expression full of curiosity.
“As George Darcy’s son, my family considered me a target for kidnapping. So I was required, from an early age, to take self-defense courses.”
Elizabeth nodded. “Makes sense.”
“George and I were friends through our fathers. We’d known each other since we were about ten. By the time I was seventeen,” he continued, “I was deeply into martial arts and I thought pretty highly of myself. George started karate with me, but he didn’t stick with it. He was frustrated with how long it took to promote. He wanted a black belt right away.” He shook his head. “That should have told me something, but it didn’t.”
“Anyway, the spring of senior year, he started telling me this story about a boy our age who was picking on the younger kids. He said he couldn’t get the bully to stop because the kid had powerful parents, and the principal wouldn’t listen to George Wickham. If he tried to fight this kid, he’d win but get into big trouble. Because I was Fitzwilliam Darcy, I could take care of things. They wouldn’t touch me.” He met her arched eyebrow with a rueful nod of his head. “Yeah, I was that dumb. I thought that no matter what George did to everyone else that he was still a friend to me.”
“What happened?” she asked.
“After two weeks of hearing about this kid, George ran past me in the hall, and when I stopped him, he said he was going to find a teacher because the kid had a knife. He told me where they were and then ran off to get help.” He rolled his eyes. “Help. Anyway, the kid did have something in his hand and he was grabbing someone else’s arm, so I just walked in there and punched him in the face.”
Elizabeth grimaced. “Oh man. Did they . . .?”
Will nodded. “I should have been expelled, truthfully. I nearly was. I told the principal what had happened, and they allowed me to finish out the year. But I couldn’t participate in graduation.” He sighed. “I was supposed to be valedictorian.”
“Oh, Will,” she said sympathetically. “Did he even have a knife?”
“Oh, yeah,” he said sarcastically. “He had a Swiss Army pocketknife. He was showing it off to his friends. Big threat.”
“So Wickham tricked you,” she said quietly.
“And I fell for it. Thought I had a chance to be a hero.” His eyes darkened. “My father was furious, but I think the worst part was how upset my mom was.” He frowned. “She’d been helping me with my speech.” He laced his fingers through hers. “I am grateful every day that they saw me graduate from college before the accident.”
“What happened with the boy you hit?” she asked.
Will shrugged. “He wasn’t supposed to have a knife at school, not even a pocket knife. That’s what saved me. Our lawyer convinced the family they didn’t have much of a case, since I thought I was protecting other students. My parents paid for his trip to the doctor, and I had to work to pay it back. In the end, he hated me more for getting him in trouble than for the punch.”
“And Wickham?”
“He was expelled. He was always in trouble, and this was the last straw, I guess. With his grades, I don’t think he would have graduated, anyway.”
Elizabeth was pensive. “It seems like a long time to hold a grudge for something like that.”
Will had to agree. “I know. Richard thinks he’s working for someone, that he might have been sought out because of our history. My uncle believes it may have something to do with his reelection campaign.” He tried to find a comfortable position on the bed. “He’s going to try to get you to work on it.”
Elizabeth was suddenly alert. “His reelection? Should I be worried?”
Will settled her in front of him and coaxed her to lean back onto his chest. “I don’t know, love.”
She sighed. “I guess I’m in it anyway.”
He nodded. “That’s probably why he’s so keen.” He kissed the back of her neck. “Isn’t this better than arguing?”
She swung around to face him, her eyes alight, and he moaned inwardly. What is that woman thinking now? “Of course, Will,” she said sweetly, which did not reassure him. She reached up to stroke a lock of his hair. “Is your uncle here at the hotel?” she asked.
Will nodded, deciding he would simply be happy that she had forgiven him so quickly. He dropped a kiss on her forehead. “And Richard.”
He grunted.
“Oh, there’s the caveman,” she laughed breathlessly, moving to his chest, and he tried desperately not to think of his sister using the same word.
“Elizabeth. . .” he began, but stopped short as she moved to his lips, her tongue cautiously parting them and initiating a deep, satisfying kiss. Will nobody allow me to finish a sentence today? She drew herself up and straddled his legs without breaking the kiss. Her hands gently touched either side of his face, and he placed his just above her hips. He pulled her in closer. Talking’s overrated. When her hands wound their way into his hair and she lowered her body against his, he lost his train of thought entirely.
“Now,” she whispered in his ear, setting him aflame, “let me show you what a rescue really looks like.”
Richard tapped his foot impatiently on the floor, glad that the carpet dampened the sound. Listening to his father and Senator Everest spin their suppositions using what he understood to be their own coded language was giving him a headache. Do I even need to be here? To alleviate his boredom and irritation, he began to ponder the connection between George Wickham and this mystery partner. How were they involved with his father? He crossed his arms and released a quiet sigh.
Not quiet enough, apparently. His father turned to him and asked, sharply, “Something to say, Richard?”
“Actually,” Richard replied, fully aware of his father’s annoyance, “yes.”
Senator Everest, a tall, slender woman with a youthful complexion, iron gray hair, and brown eyes so dark they appeared almost black, placed her clasped hands on the table in front of her and leaned in just a bit.