The Flight Path Less Traveled

by Leigh Dreyer

  “Doesn’t it?”

  “Well, Smarty Pants. If that’s what makes a romance, what kind of book are we in then, huh? Let’s take your idea of you being the heroine in a novel and run with it. We’ve had adventure. Flying is fantastic stuff; I mean, who doesn’t love flying fast, sexy jets and shooting through the sky at unbelievable speeds?”

  She nodded thoughtfully. “I mean, I’m sure there are some people, but I’m certainly not one of them.”

  “Exactly.” He moved one seat closer to her, dragging his bowl and spoon across the table making the silver clink against the glass. “We’ve had suspense. I mean, who knew if you would make it during that crash. There I was: stuck up in the sky, circling around you, and seeing the flames and smoke, and only seeing one parachute. I knew someone wouldn’t make it, but who would that someone be? That’s suspense if I ever heard it.”

  “I suppose, although suspense is typically more mystery and horror novels.”

  “You don’t think it was horrifying watching you go down and hearing your voice over the radio?” Darcy leaned closer to her, his face only inches from hers. “I will let you know, Miss Elizabeth Bennet, that I have never been so terrified in my entire life.”

  “Point taken.”

  “Now, we come to us, here at Netherfield. What exactly do we say to describe what this is?” Darcy pointed back and forth between the two of them, not moving back, still inches from her. Darcy watched Elizabeth’s eyes flit from his hand to his eyes to his mouth, then lick her lips. He leaned closer to her but did not touch her.

  “We could, of course, call us housemates.” Darcy held up a hand and ticked off a finger. “Or friends.” He ticked off another. “We’re almost family, I mean, my best friend married your sister.” She nodded slowly while he ticked off another. “You call out for me in your sleep.” He pointed to his fourth finger and then shrugged his shoulders. “What would you call someone who comes to comfort you in your most vulnerable? I don’t know that family quite covers it. Neither does friend. That seems so platonic, almost pedantic.” He moved even closer to her, his lips, nearly touching hers as he spoke. “Would you call us lovers, Lizzy?” He tilted his head.

  Darcy could feel her breath hot on his face. He stayed still even when she tilted her own head in turn and closed her eyes.

  Pulling away quickly, he sat up, smiling at her, holding out the last finger on his hand. “I guess housemates would do it.”

  Elizabeth punched him in the arm, looking thoroughly betrayed, and he laughed.

  “You are awful.”

  “Me? What did I do? I was just trying to figure out your story!”

  Elizabeth groaned loudly while her chest and cheeks turned a becoming shade of red.

  Longbourn Inn hosted a large Halloween party every year for the guests and those friends in town who were lucky enough to receive an invitation. To Darcy’s dismay, he was to attend with Elizabeth and the Bingleys. How his cross-country schedule had lined up, he did not know, but he wanted to strangle whoever was in scheduling.

  Caroline—whose room was still far from packed—had not been seen for a few days and, as a result, had avoided receiving an invitation. It seemed that the inhabitants of Netherfield neither knew nor cared where she was, but each of them had expressed their gratitude for the overwhelming sense of peace in the house.

  After a slow morning spent doing laundry, packing his bags for his upcoming cross-countries, and buying travel sized toiletries, he got ready for the party. Elizabeth had balked at the idea of a couple’s costume and left him to come up with a costume on his own. He wandered around his room looking absently through drawers and his closet before settling on a plaid shirt and jeans. Lumberjack. Unassuming. I’m not expected to look any different and—thank god—no glitter, make-up, or accessories needed.

  After pulling on the clothes and frowning once in the mirror, he ambled back downstairs to wait for Elizabeth. Darcy busied himself by rearranging the magazines on the coffee table alphabetically, then by date, before a rustling from the stairs propelled him back to the foyer.

  Elizabeth was maneuvering down the stairs slowly. She was wearing a yellow t-shirt and a black mini-skirt with black fishnet tights and a high heel on one leg. The other leg, still in its brace was all black.

  “Are you some kind of weird bumblebee?” Darcy asked, pointing up at her.

  “Guess again.”

  “Lemon?”

  Elizabeth laughed. “I’m the leg lamp from A Christmas Story.” Darcy looked her over from top to bottom. He noticed the fringe on her skirt for the first time.

  “Couldn’t I have just come as the ‘fragile’ box?”

  Elizabeth winked and Darcy smiled at the musical sound of her laughter. “That’s Jane’s costume. Are you ready?”

  “Ready as I’ll ever be.” On the short drive to Longbourn, Elizabeth rolled down the window and let her hand play in the breeze as they drove past the trees in the avenue.

  “So, what are you supposed to be?” Elizabeth asked a few minutes later, rolling up the window.

  “Isn’t it obvious?”

  Elizabeth shook her head.

  “I’m a lumberjack.”

  “Ah, yes. The, uh, plaid.”

  “Remind me why you like Halloween?”

  “It’s just fun, Will. Don’t you remember trick or treating and bobbing for apples and eating candy till you puked?”

  “Not really. We never did Halloween after my mother died and, even before that, our nearest neighbors are pretty far away, so we couldn’t trick or treat.”

  “Poor rich you, not being able to trick or treat. No wonder you’re such a stick in the mud today.”

  “Thanks, Lydia.” He moved away from Elizabeth as she playfully swung for his shoulder.

  “Hush.”

  “Okay, so why do you and Jane get to do the costume together and I have to come up with my own?”

  “Jane and I have been doing matching costumes since we were five. She wanted to be Dorothy from The Wizard of Oz and I decided to be the wicked witch.”

  “Very fitting. I’m surprised Jane didn’t want to be Glinda.”

  “Mom tried to convince her to change too, but Jane thought all that tulle was itchy. Anyway, we’ve done it for years and since this is probably one of the last years before she does stuff with Charles and has kids, we wanted to keep the tradition going.”

  “Charles didn’t want to wear the pink bunny suit, did he?”

  “No, but Jane tried her hardest to change his mind. I think he’s coming straight from work, so this year, he’ll be a pilot.”

  “Every little boy’s dream.”

  “And little girl’s.” Elizabeth winked at him. He placed his hand gently on her thigh and felt a thrill of exhilaration as she placed her small hand into his. He closed his fingers around hers and heard a sigh of contentment escape her lips.

  At Longbourn, music pulsed through the walls. The scent of cinnamon and pumpkin wafted from the dining room, and sugar-high children scampered through Longbourn’s rooms, their laughter ringing in the air. Darcy quickly maneuvered Elizabeth to a chair in the great room and then moved to a cauldron brimming with fog to fill her a glass of punch.

  “Decided not to dress up, huh? I told Kitty you wouldn’t and she didn’t believe me. George did tell me you were a stiff and, boy, was he ever right.”

  “Hello, Lydia.”

  “I mean, was it that hard? Pinterest exists, you know? All you had to do was type ‘Halloween Costume’ in the search bar and come up with something.”

  “I’m a lumberjack. I’m just getting some punch. Besides, what are you supposed to be? A bunny? Isn’t that a little cliché?” Darcy surveyed Lydia’s skintight white dress, covered in cotton balls, complete with a pink-eared headband.

  Lydia looked down at her outfit and with a seductive jiggle said, “I’m a lamb. Baa.”

  Darcy took his punch and backed up quickly. “Great. Uh, I have to, um—get back to…yeah…�
�� He turned quickly, practically running over Kitty, who looked like a traffic cone, muttered an excuse me, and made his way back to Elizabeth. He handed her a glass and sat down on a couch.

  “So, where is Mary?”

  “She tends to avoid these things. You know—witchcraft.”

  “Ah.”

  “One time she came as the Virgin Mary, but most of the guests thought it was ironic and she didn’t like having to explain herself over and over. Every other year, she hides in the kitchen and refills the appetizer trays.”

  “Did you see Lydia?”

  “Unfortunately. At least she’s dressed. Her original idea was Malibu Barbie. She even had the tiniest pink sequin bikini you’ve ever seen, but fortunately Mom saw her before she could make it to the party. Mom has standards when it comes to paying guests.”

  “How did you know that? We haven’t been here all day.”

  “Kitty told me when you were grabbing the drinks.”

  “I don’t understand how big families work.”

  “Probably the same as small ones but with more people talking about you.”

  A burst of laughter came from a huddle of middle-aged women. Mrs. Bennet, wearing a witch’s outfit, turned to meet Darcy’s eyes.

  “Oh, there he is now. I don’t know if you’ve heard. He has a sizeable estate in New York, a popular winery, and his own plane.” Elizabeth looked at Darcy and rolled her eyes as her fingers grazed his.

  Despite the irritation which clenched his jaw, he smiled at her mother as she continued speaking more loudly than the room allowed. “He flew Elizabeth to Hunsford last year. We expect an announcement sometime soon. I don’t know what is wrong with that girl not snatching him up. He follows her like a puppy as it is. Oh, excuse me. I should go say ‘hello.’”

  Mrs. Bennet flitted through circles of guests and friends, waving “hello” and asking if they had had enough pie. Soon she sat next to Darcy and placed a plump hand on his knee.

  “Elizabeth. William.” She nodded to each of them in turn.

  “This is a lovely party, Mrs. Bennet. Thank you for inviting me.”

  “Oh, it’s my pleasure! We’ve got to show you off. Elizabeth has never brought a boy home before.”

  “Mom!”

  “What? You haven’t!”

  “I’m sorry, Will,” Elizabeth said. “Mom, could you stop? Please?”

  “Of course, sweetheart. So Will, what are you supposed to be?”

  “A, uh, lumberjack.”

  “I can see that now.”

  “Costume parties stress him out, Mom.”

  “It isn’t very difficult to find a costume. Look at mine. I just pulled it together.”

  “Witches are fun. Were you going for a Harry Potter theme?”

  “Of course not. Oh, Lizzy, he is so silly sometimes.” Mrs. Bennet patted Darcy’s knee. “I’m Winifred Sanderson from Hocus Pocus.

  Darcy gave her a blank look.

  “Haven’t you seen that movie?”

  “Must have missed it.”

  “I’m sure I don’t know what you all watch up in New York, but Hocus Pocus is a perennial favorite.”

  “Of course it is, Mom,” said Elizabeth, tactfully taking over the conversation. “Is that Aunt Phillips over there?”

  “I certainly hope so! She was planning on coming as Billy!” Mrs. Bennet sprung from her seat and, without a backward glance, fluttered through the crowd to meet a zombie at the door.

  “You can go find my dad. He never comes to these—always just hides out in his office. I’ll make the rounds then meet you there in a few minutes.”

  “Elizabeth, can you maneuver in this crowd?”

  “Don’t worry. I’m sitting where the rounds will take place. Everyone I know will come say ‘hello.’ Jane has already talked up the guests so I don’t need to worry about greeting them. And without Charlotte here, I don’t have anyone in particular I need to talk to, but I know Mom expects me to be a proper hostess during the party with or without a recently broken leg. I’ll come and find you as soon as I think I can get away.”

  Darcy nodded and stood. He had been invited to the sanctuary of Mr. Bennet’s office on occasion, but each time it had been by Elizabeth rather than the man himself. He did not want to feel like an imposition, but his whole body itched to get away from the staring, cloying eyes of Meryton’s populace.

  After knocking on the door and hearing a muffled “come in,” Darcy stepped into the room, closing the door behind him.

  “Here to escape the party?”

  Darcy nodded once.

  “Our Lizzy is quite thoughtful, isn’t she?”

  Darcy’s lips came up in a smile. “That she is.”

  “Well, don’t mind me. You are welcome to grab a book and pull up a chair.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  Darcy’s eyes roamed the various dusty shelves with books stacked askew on every surface. “Do you have any suggestions?”

  “What are you in the mood for?”

  “Have anything light? I’m not in the mood for deep philosophical thought.”

  “Well, in that case I advise you to avoid Adam Smith and Rousseau.”

  Darcy chuckled. “Thanks.”

  “I suppose you received a decent education up North, so let’s also avoid Orwell, Atwood, and Fitzgerald. May I suggest The Best Loved Poems of the American People as selected by Felleman? It’s fairly easy to pick up and put down, and it has the added advantage of being easy to skip the boring ones.” Mr. Bennet went back to his own book and read for a few seconds before pointing to the shelf to the left. “Center bookshelf, top shelf, near the back, but horizontal, I believe. I’m sure Elizabeth had it organized at one time, but it has since migrated to its current position.”

  Darcy went to the shelf indicated, located the book, and sat on a chair. He opened the book and skimmed the text, turning pages without reading a single word.

  “I have found that concentration on a single page does lend itself to better understanding, especially when pondering the words of a poem—very symbolic poetry.”

  “Sir, may I ask you a question?”

  “Is this to avoid reading or because you feel that I might feel lonely without some sort of verbal stimulation?”

  “I was just curious.”

  “Well, putting aside what that auspicious trait did to the cat, let’s discuss your curiosity.”

  Darcy smiled. “How was it you met Mrs. Bennet?”

  “She ran around with my friend and me in high school. I recall she was more interested in him at first, but I eventually wooed her with my Jeopardy skills.” He opened a drawer of his desk and pulled out a bottle and two glasses. He poured a finger into each and then handed one to Darcy.

  “Cheers.”

  Darcy clinked his glass with Mr. Bennet’s, and they both sipped their drinks.

  “Homemaking was still quite the thing in the eighties, and despite feminism’s push, Mrs. Bennet has always excelled in those skills that make her the most excellent wife. You’ve sampled her cooking and seen her meticulous cleaning, but I wonder if you see all the effort she puts forth to put uncomfortable guests at ease and find them the exact thing that makes them happy.” Mr. Bennet finished off his drink and placed the glass on his desk. “Jane inherited most of my wife’s more attractive traits, but you’ll notice Elizabeth has many of them too. Lydia embodies Mrs. Bennet’s desire to be the life of any party (perhaps a little too much, to my chagrin), and Mary and Kitty are both quite intelligent, hard-working girls.”

  “And how”—Darcy glanced around the room trying to put his question into words—“how did you know that she was the one you wanted to marry?”

  Mr. Bennet’s gray eyes bore into Darcy’s. “Is there a material point to these questions?”

  Darcy’s own eyes fell uncomfortably to stare at his shoes. “I don’t want to distract Elizabeth. She’s so busy and so—”

  “Consumed? Preoccupied? Obsessed?”

  �
��I was going to say goal-driven.”

  “That’s a very nice way of putting it.”

  “I haven’t been able to talk to her since the hospital. Ever since she got out, she’s been so worried about all her appointments, and how she is healing, and when her medical board will be, and now she likes her new doctor.”

  “Willoughby?”

  “That’s the one.”

  “Don’t worry about him. From Elizabeth’s description, he must walk on the moon which means one of two things in her current vulnerable state: one, he actually is phenomenal, or two, he told her what she wants to hear, and she won’t hear anything else right now.”

  “I’m so glad you think so too.” Darcy fiddled with his empty glass. “She didn’t believe me when I told her I had concerns about him.”

  “Elizabeth always listens, even when it doesn’t seem like she does. But, she hates to admit when she is wrong.”

  “But that’s just it. I don’t want her to admit she is anything. I just don’t want her to get hurt.”

  Mr. Bennet chuckled softly. “I know parents aren’t supposed to have favorites, but Elizabeth has been my favorite from the day she was born and looked up at me with her big brown eyes. I understand her probably better than she thinks I do. I’m not a very hands-on father, you see. I mostly hide away in my study here and ignore the goings-on of the house unless it directly affects the business. And even that, I should improve on, but Elizabeth has always been invited into my little sanctuary, and she is one of the only people who can pull me out of my taciturn ways. I suspect that is what makes you so attractive to her. She can pull the ardent lover out of a man who could hardly be tempted by her when they first met.”

  Darcy’s cheeks burned. “I certainly ate my words, didn’t I?”

  “I would say so, young man. Now, I know you’ve been sent in here to recuperate from whatever trauma the merry-making in the house has caused you, but Elizabeth would want you to go back out and support her, at this, her hour of need.”

  “A party can hardly be her hour of need.”

  “You underestimate my wife’s desire to get you to propose.”

  Flashes of Mrs. Bennet’s recent conversation came quickly to Darcy’s mind and he stood up quickly, dropping the book from his lap onto the floor. He retrieved it, muttered “I’m sorry” and picked it back up and brushed imaginary dust from the cover.