by Kristi Rose
Elizabeth sat up and brushed her hair from her face. “Sorry for what?”
Anne shrugged. “I feel helpless.”
Elizabeth barked out an angry laugh. “I feel responsible.” She looked to Anne. “I knew what he was like. I had been warned.”
Jane snorted. “So much blame going on around here. Yet Lydia is the one who is responsible for herself. She is an adult.”
“Barely,” Elizabeth said. “I could have at least warned her.”
“As if that ever worked in the past,” Jane said.
“She’s right.”
The three turned to see Kitty, their other sister at the door. “Lydia took one look at Wickham and saw Hollywood. There would have been no warning strong enough to stop her.” Kitty crossed her arms and shook her head. “And do you know I had a camping trip planned for the Rocky Mountains? And now Mom won’t let me go anywhere. She even wants me to move home. Told me she forbid me to leave Meryton, and I better watch who I’m seen with because if I step one foot out of line, she’ll know and heads will roll.”
“I’m sorry, Kitty,’” Elizabeth murmured. In the past, Elizabeth and Jane had often worried about Kitty and the influence Lydia had over her. Yet, as Kitty matured, those ties appeared to have loosened, if not removed altogether. Kitty, a pre-veterinarian student, was focused on school, dogs, and the outdoors. In that order. No one, including Kitty, should pay for Lydia’s actions.
Kitty waved her hand dismissively. “It is what it is. It won’t stop me from stomping on Lydia’s foot when she gets home.”
“If,” Elizabeth said.
“Oh, she’ll come home. She’ll do nothing more than talk about all the opportunities she had and how she made them work to her advantage.” Kitty rolled her eyes. “Speaking of opportunity, that tall producer lady is here, so if you want to climb out the window or something I can cover for you.”
Elizabeth grimaced. “How mad is she?”
Kitty shrugged. “It’s hard to say. She’s odd. She didn’t follow me back here so I’d say she’s mad enough but still civil.”
Elizabeth glanced at Jane, placed one hand on her desk for support, and then took a deep, long inhalation.
“I’ll go with you,” Jane said and stood.
They exited the office as a group, no one speaking. Their offices, housed in an old repurposed brownstone, were separated from the entrance and lobby by a glass partition and door. Suzie Carmichael was staring at Elizabeth from the other side of the glass with her arms crossed. Elizabeth forced her shoulders back.
“We need to speak,” Suzie said as Elizabeth and Jane entered the room, Kitty holding the door for them.
“Would you like to come back to our conference room?” Elizabeth didn’t really want to go back to the offices. She’d prefer Suzie get her rant over here and now.
“No, I’ll be brief.”
“It must be important for you to come all the way here,” said Jane. “Would you like something to drink?”
Suzie shook her head. “As angry as I am, and I am very angry, it has come to my attention you do not control your mother or what she says.”
Kitty laughed. “I don’t think even she controls what she says.”
Carmichael narrowed her eyes at Kitty, who grimaced then went to her desk. She put on her headset and then stared at the phone as if willing it to ring.
“I am very sorry our mother did what she did. I wish there was an explanation, but”–– Elizabeth shrugged––“there isn’t.”
“I am aware of this and know I'm not the first person to be raked over the coals by her. But to be made a mockery of, and over the likes of Geo Wickham.” Carmichael shook her head. “What were you thinking with him and me?”
“I beg your pardon?” Elizabeth was confused.
Carmichael waved her hand at Elizabeth. “Setting us up.”
Elizabeth gasped and sputtered.
Carmichael continued. “I know Wickham wasn’t on my list, but of course you meant for us to know each other. We’re in the same business. We’re of a like mind. We’re possible.” She seemed to give the last comment some thought. “Or maybe it’s more we have similar interests. Regardless, it was obvious to me once the auction started I was to bid on him.”
Elizabeth crossed her arms, searching for a way to salvage the conversation, but came up short. It was impossible to have a candid adult interaction when one person was shortsighted. “Ms. Carmichael. Did anyone from this company come to you and specifically tell you to bid? Much less do so for Wickham?”
The producer shifted on her pointy heels. “Well, not directly, no. But—”
“And what about the gentleman I had facilitated a meeting with?”
“The short guy with the”––she wiggled her fingers all over her arms–– “ink?”
“Yes, Samuel.”
“He was so little.”
“Actually, he’s your height when you don’t wear the…er…stilettos.”
Carmichael snorted. “He was not a good match.”
Elizabeth had poured hours into matching Suzie. Hours of watching the videos and picking through the questionnaires. Her gut had screamed they were a good match. “Samuel Quinn is the founder of a wheelchair company. His innovative designs––he’s an engineer––are cutting edge and already show improvements with independence and quality of life. He’s since gone on to start up a prosthetic’s company which, like his wheelchairs, is cutting edge. And because he’s tuned into the needs of people who have disabilities, he’s even founded a nonprofit respite service to give parents and caregivers breaks from taking care of their special-needs loved ones.”
Carmichael’s mouth made a small O.
Elizabeth continued, “I selected him for you because both of you are tremendously successful and because he is very grounded in a world that is not Hollywood and one you might find interesting since your brother has had, what did you say, both legs amputated?”
Carmichael nodded. “He was in a terrible car accident.”
“The gentleman with all the”–– Elizabeth wiggled her fingers over her arm like Suzie had–– “ink is the reason your brother was able to ski again. Wasn’t that the picture of him you showed me? Skiing on innovative prosthetics?”
Carmichael nodded a second time.
“I did not then, nor do I continue to think, anyone from Hollywood that I have met is a good match for you. You are a successful, powerful woman, even when you don’t wear high heels, who will be scrutinized for everything you do. How will you trust someone in the same business? This was an essential question I asked myself and was a resounding theme in your interview. Samuel, on the other hand, lives a similar enough life to understand your dedication to your career. He’s not looking for a stay-at-home wife. He’s looking for a partner in life.” Had Elizabeth been petty, she would have ended her spiel with “so there,” but she wasn’t. Instead, she lowered her arms, crossed them behind her back, and shrugged. “He found you very intriguing, but unfortunately recognized you did not find the same with him.”
Carmichael pressed two fingers to her lips. Elizabeth had studied the producer so much she knew this was a sign of her coming to a decision.
“I believe I owe you an apology, and you now have it. I’m also going to stay with your company and would like you to extend an invitation to Mr. Quinn for a lunch date. It will have to be soon as I finally have an investor for my latest screenplay and want to get moving toward production. I’ll be heading to the other coast as soon as I can.”
Elizabeth smelled a skunk. Only days earlier, Suzie Carmichael was chewing her out, but now she was apologizing, such as it was, and staying with the company? There were pieces missing here, and Elizabeth was determined to find them and put them together.
“He has since moved on, but should his situation change or another well-suited client present themselves, I will make sure to connect you as soon as possible,” Elizabeth said.
Suzie frowned deeper and then nodded. �
�Excellent. Works for my current timing anyway. I look forward to hearing from you.” Suzie spun on her pointy heel and went to the door. Before she exited, she said, “I have a lovely pair of ballet flats I can’t wait to wear. These shoes are killers.” She smiled slightly then left.
No one spoke until the clacking of Suzie’s heels on the pavement faded.
“It seems things are taking a turn for the better,” Jane said. “Perhaps we shouldn’t have worried so much. Wasted energy.” She squeezed Elizabeth’s hand.
“Oh, make no mistake, Jane, nothing has changed. We’re still in quite the mess, and whatever prompted Suzie Carmichael to change her mind wasn’t her heart. I’m guessing it had something to do with landing an investor for her new movie.” As soon she could get to her computer, she was going to look for any and all information.
“Well, that investor did us a favor by shifting her focus,” Jane said.
True, and maybe Elizabeth shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth, but she couldn’t help herself.
Chapter Sixteen
William was angry. Though it was a different sort of anger than the one that propelled him forward to find Wickham.
Dealing with Suzie Carmichael had been easy enough. She was, after all, a savvy businesswoman, and when given the choice of pursuing something out of embarrassment and anger or pushing ahead with her new movie, she wisely chose the latter. William was no fool himself. Investing in her movie was smart money. There wouldn’t be a loss for him; but he would be in the entertainment business longer than he had hoped. That was a small price to pay for having kept Wickham’s secret to himself.
Only Wickham’s secret now didn’t look so awful when framed with the knowledge that people had taken advantage of him. George was across the room staring out the window. Had Lydia not been here, Darcy was certain he would still be ignorant of Wickham’s reading disability. Knowing it explained so much, and that is where the anger came in. Why had George’s father and Darcy’s own father kept this secret from him? Did they think he wouldn’t understand? Never mind setting Wickham up for failure at every single turn. All the rumors of Wickham’s lack of preparation on the set made sense. Not reading emails, not learning his lines—it was all clear.
What wasn’t clear was how to move forward. Should they hire a tutor? What did George want to do? Chances of him acting in Hollywood were now minuscule. Darcy searched through his mental list of corporations he owned looking for a position George could fulfill. Though if George’s rigid posture and angry attitude toward Darcy were any indication, the chance George would work for him was fifty-fifty. Maybe less. So far, George wasn’t even talking to him.
Well, at least he knew of one thing he could do.
“I’m sorry George. I had no idea. Had I known... Had I a suspicion––”
George spun to face him. “What would you have done Darcy? Mocked me? Tried to teach me yourself? Mr. Smart guy with his Harvard degree and Wharton College, whatever it is you have from there.”
“I would have supported you better, tried to help you find a solution.” Darcy stuck his hands in his pockets. Truthfully, he was at a loss.
“Supported me how? Given me money? Let me marry your sister?” George said angrily.
Darcy glanced at Lydia whose face was now pink. Embarrassed perhaps? “Would you have wanted to marry Georgiana had you had other options?”
The weight of George’s anger seemed to leave him with one heavy exhale. “No.” He looked at Lydia. “No, Georgiana isn’t even my type.”
Darcy witnessed something much like a blossoming love pass in the look George and Lydia shared. He leaned back against the wall of the shabby hotel, not willing to sit in the lone chair with the stained seat.
“Might we set the past aside temporarily and try to address the current issues? What was the plan by coming out here?”
George and Lydia shared another looked, an unspoken conversation seeming to pass between them. Lydia nodded slightly, and George sighed before turning his attention back to Darcy.
“My agent dropped me, and Lydia discovered he'd––”
“He was totally taking advantage of Geo, had high fees and clauses like power of attorney. He’s a real dirt bag.” She glanced at George and smiled softly at him.
Darcy didn’t like the idea of someone taking advantage of another person’s disability, but he also knew if the shoe was on his foot, he wouldn’t like someone else resolving the situation for him.
“So you have no agent?” Darcy asked and pushed away from the wall.
Wickham shook his head. “I’m not sure I have a salvageable career left in this town.”
Finally, they were getting somewhere. “Is this what you want to do?” As Darcy saw it, Wickham had a blank slate, an opportunity to basically do what he wanted.
Wickham shrugged. “I’ve been thinking about this a lot. When I try to see myself doing something else, I can’t picture it.”
Darcy shifted, searching for the best words to use for his next question. There was no delicate way around it. “If you were to remove the obstacle of…err…the situation with reading, what would you want to do?”
“Acting. I like trying on the new characters. Not being George Wickham for a little bit.”
Darcy nodded like he understood, but he didn’t fully.
“Trouble is he can’t get in to any audition. We’ve been turned away from every open casting call,” Lydia said. “Even with me acting as his new agent.”
“Is that what you want? To be his new agent?” Darcy looked between Lydia and Wickham.
“At least she has a genuine interest in me. She came to the rescue when she helped me with the agent thing, and she didn’t have to.”
Lydia beamed at Wickham. “I wanted to. Not only because you really needed someone in your corner, but because it angers me to see someone else take advantage of another person. Wrong is wrong. It’s how I was raised.”
Darcy thought of Elizabeth who worked from the same principle. From her perspective, she felt it had been wrong, or an injustice, to come in and tell her how to run her business without knowing anything about it, just as it had been wrong to intervene in the love affairs of her sister Jane. Yet, this current situation with Lydia and Wickham felt very much his problem as much as hers. He could only hope she would see it that way, too.
Darcy needed a plan, an idea, or an inkling of something that would lead to either of those, but he was coming up blank. “And this blacklisting, does it extend to Broadway and off Broadway?”
Wickham nodded. “We made a few calls, and it would appear so.” He flung himself in the stained chair and sighed heavily. “I’m not saying this to ask for money, but I wonder if I might be able to land something in London?”
Darcy tapped out a text to his assistant asking the same question. After sending it, he opened the app that listed all his holdings and began to scroll through. Many of the entertainment ones were in the process of being sold. But now he understood why his father had added the entertainment companies to their portfolio, and had Darcy been in possession of the same facts his father had been, Darcy might not have been so quick to get rid of them. Prejudice, it was the darnedest emotion.
Darcy paused, his finger next to the name of an Australian company. “Do you know anything about other countries’ television and movie industries? Say Bollywood, for example.”
Lydia shook her head. “I don’t know anything about India, but I know Hugh Jackman started on a soap in Australia.”
“The Australia market is very lucrative and popular.”
A text from Darcy’s assistant came through, and Darcy repeated the information. “London’s out. Your name is mud there as well.” He tapped out a second question.
Wickham groaned, his chin dropping to his chest. “What am I going to do?”
“We’ll think of something. We may not think of it today, but we will come up with a plan,” Lydia assured him. She squished into the chair with him. “Do you hear me? Yo
u need to have some faith.”
Wickham nodded.
“How about Australia?” Darcy asked. It looked like he was part owner in a network there that ran the highest rated soap. “I’ll get you a role, it might be small, but you go out there, show them a new George Wickham, and clean up your reputation. If you can do that, you’ll be back here in no time. I’m also connecting you with a reputable agent there who is willing to take you on.” Well, Darcy’s assistant, Tolliver, was making the pieces come together. The man had endless connections. What a boon his assistant’s cousin was the agent.
Wickham sat straight up and flung an arm around Lydia. He asked Darcy, “Are you for real?”
“I am. I’m having it all worked out right now.” Darcy smiled. “You’ll need to leave as soon as possible.”
“Not a problem.” Letting loose of Lydia, Wickham rose, then he came to stand before Darcy. “Thank you,” he said and thrust out his hand. “I won’t let you down.” The two shook. It was the first step in repairing the damage of many years of anger and distrust. All caused by one secret.
“Besides,” Wickham said. “I can do anything now with Lyddie in my corner. Right, babe?”
Lydia smiled sadly. “Yes, only I can’t go to Australia.”
Darcy groaned. Wickham swayed.
“Why ever not?” Wickham asked.
“If this is about a passport or money, I can make sure everything is taken care of to get you both situated there,” Darcy added.
Lydia shook her head again. “It has nothing to do with that. I can’t move across the world, give up my job, my family, and my dreams for something as great as this opportunity might seem. On a business level, it might work out. I might land a job working as a stylist on some movie or TV set. Or I might not. But on a personal level, it’s not all that great. I won’t be your wife. I won’t be your agent. Why should I go?”
Wickham knelt before her. “Because I need you.”
“You needed me here. There you’ll be taken care of.”
Wickham shook his head. “Not true.”
Lydia sighed. “I saw this movie about an up-and-coming rock star who got a deal and moved to the big city with his girlfriend, who was a songwriter. He used her material. They got there, and he essentially forgot all about her. I won’t be like her. I won’t ride around whatever city it is in Australia on some bicycle all sad and lonely with no money to get home.”