Twenty Months

by Alicia Rogers

  "Liz," Caroline said her name in the most annoyingly haughty tone, "be a doll and refill my drink."

  "Of course," Lizzie replied just as patronizingly, reaching over to grab the glass. "Oh, where are my manners, I almost forgot to personally wish you a happy birthday, Caro…"

  The blonde leered. "Thanks."

  Turning sharply on her heels, Lizzie added over her shoulder, "You truly don't look a day over forty" and relished the look on Caroline's face.

  That look would keep Lizzie warm at night.

  * * *

  When Jane's hands made it to Jane's hips, she knew she was in big trouble. Admittedly, the wrath of Jane was about as frightening as a gang of kittens who farted rainbows and shot sunbeams and snikerdoodles out of their eyes, but with a mere tilt of her head (and those hands on those hips) Jane could make Lizzie feel as if she were a four year old who'd just been caught taking the heads off of her big sister's Barbie's.

  "Don't you think you should take this a little seriously," Jane huffed and her sister threw up her hands in defeat.

  "I'm taking it seriously. I'm serious, Janie." Lizzie nodded sternly – a sign that she was ready to get back to being an adult. Unfortunately she made mistake of glancing down at the contents of Charlie's folder lying on the coffee table before her and the corners of her lips twisted up in amusement.

  Lizzie snorted and Jane swore.

  "Jesus Christ…"

  "I'm sorry!" she exclaimed. "But, Janie you're insane if you don't see the ridiculousness in all of this."

  "There are elements of the ridiculous, but…"

  Lizzie shot her a look. "Elements?! Darcy wants me to go with him to New Hampshire to meet his sister and he doesn't have the decency to come by or hell, even call and say 'Lizzie, you should really meet my highly accomplished, prep-school going, Smarty McBigbrain sister before you and I rape the sanctity of marriage with our sham'. Instead, he sends poor Charlie by with a plane ticket and the Will Darcy press kit!"

  Jane blinked. "Remember to breathe, Lizzie."

  "I mean, for fuck's sake, Jane, you'd think the guy would actually want me to get to know him the good old fashioned way!" Shaking her head she snatched up the papers. "'Darcy likes birthday cake-flavored ice cream, cooking, heavy metal, and takes his coffee black with five sugars.' If we're pretending to be a couple shouldn't we spend some amount of time together and actually learn these things through – oh, I dunno, interaction!"

  "This is his sister you're meeting," Jane calmly reminded her. "The only family Darcy has according to Charlie and they're closer than close. She's already under the impression that this is a serious relationship, so if you can't tell her how he takes his coffee in the morning, she's gonna know something's up."

  Tossing the papers back onto the coffee table, Lizzie sunk into the cushions of the couch with a heavy sigh. "This is a bad idea. This whole deal reeks of badness. I don't need Fitzwilliam Darcy or his contract. I can raise this baby on my own."

  Jane plopped down beside her and rested her head on Lizzie's shoulder. "You may not need him, but you signed your name on the dotted line."

  "Dammit."

  Chapter 9

  Fitzwilliam, It was Really Nothing. Part Two

  "Fitzwilliam, what are you thinking about?"

  As insane as it were, for a moment, Darcy was compelled to answer that question with complete and total honesty. That's not to say he usually specialized in being dishonest; he'd merely had enough experiences with women in his lifetime to know that when asked that particular question, absolute truth did not have his best interest at heart.

  In fact, absolute truth was only interested in getting him castrated.

  And yet, he wanted to tell her anyway. Wanted to tell her instead of sweet and dirty nothings to whisper in her ear, his brain was frantically thinking of exit strategies:

  Sneak phone to bathroom. Text Charlie to call. Make up excuse on way to door.

  Wait till she falls asleep. Use fire escape as getaway.

  Hit her over head with alarm clock. Use fire escape as getaway.

  He wanted to tell her instead of dinner plans his brain was frantically thinking of ways to explain what a cad he had been. That, he knew this was wrong, but he had done it out of fear (after all she knew when afraid he was apt to do something incredibly fucking stupid), and honestly he'd had no intentions to hurt her despite their past.

  He wanted to tell her all about Lizzie – everything about Lizzie, and he should have done so that day at the cemetery, but it had felt so good to see her; unfortunately blocking her calls and emails because he was angry hadn't turned off his feelings. The whole scene would be infinitely easier if he could find a way to be cold and indifferent.

  Eva shifted under the covers and wrapped a slender leg around his thigh, snuggling closer.

  Darcy sighed and fought his crisis of conscience. "Nothing; I'm not thinking about a single thing."

  Chapter 10

  Fitzwilliam, It was Really Nothing. Part Three: One month previous

  Georgiana Darcy had an evil streak.

  Sure, on the outside she appeared to be all sweetness and light personified, what with her fair hair, peaches and crème complexion, and gentle voice. If one never bothered to delve deep into the guts of little Georgie, then one would most assuredly come to the conclusion that the young miss was made entirely of starlight and Hilary Duff movies and that sort of nauseating cutesy bullshit.

  And one would most assuredly be dead wrong.

  Georgiana Darcy possessed a great darkness on the inside; okay, so it was the sort of darkness that led to things like drowning her brother's Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles in the toilet and spitting off of third story balconies with the knowledge of a crowded sidewalk below. She may not have had a body parts collection in her freezer, but the sadism was still there, and it was this evil streak that led her to Room 304 in the Marriott Marquee at 6:01 a.m. Eastern Standard Time.

  Armed with a theory that people were never as honest as they are when they're sleeping and when they first wake, Georgiana had set her alarm clock for the sort of hour humans never see unless they have cattle to tend to. Somehow she rolled out of bed at five a.m., thanked Jesus that her roommate was too unconscious to say no to her borrowing their car, and quietly slipped off of the Exeter campus. And the reason for all of this James Bond-y shit was a simple feeling – a strange nagging at the back of her mind that something wasn't quite right in the state of Will and Elizabeth.

  Something Georgie'd noticed in the two's behavior when they thought no one was watching: they seemed exceedingly uncomfortable with one another. There was a moment while Jonah drove the group to the hotel that Georgie put her skills at pretending to straighten her hair in the flip down mirror to use, and stealthy observed the couple in the backseat.

  Will sat stiff as a board not moving an inch save for a few furtive glances in Lizzie's direction. His 'lady friend' on the other hand, took to sinking against the backseat with her eyes fixed on the blur of trees and cars outside of the window. Certainly this was not the picture of a happy couple Will had painted so vividly over the phone, and if something was up, Georgie was going to get to the bottom of it and beat the living shit out of that bonehead if he indeed was attempting to play her for a fool.

  The elevator lurched to a stop, the tell-tale ding of the doors sounded as they slid open revealing the hotel's third floor, and Georgiana crossed the threshold.

  It wasn't too hard spotting Room 304 despite the hallway's infinite appearance; after watching Lizzie practically swallow three Nathan's hotdogs whole yesterday, Georgie was sure that behind the door with the two room service carts piled high with empty dishes, she'd find her brother and his paramour.

  Eyeing the virtual graveyard of pizza crust, chicken bones, and what appeared to be a schooner of ice cream, Georgie shook her head.

  "Lizzie should seriously look into that tapeworm theory."

  xx

  Darcy was in the middle of sw
itching to uncomfortable position number five-thousand and sixty-seven of the night when a rather loud knock caused his eyes to fly open. With a heavy sigh he turned a blood-shot, baby blue in the direction of the door and casually rolled off of the common room couch.

  A yawn,

  A quick glance through the peephole,

  An unattractive (but necessary) scratch at the front of his boxers,

  A hand on the doorknob,

  A pause,

  Another glance through the peephole…and a widening of his eyes:

  "Shit!" he mouthed, and quickly ran back to the couch gathering up any and all evidence of he and Lizzie's sleeping arrangements. With Georgiana's persistent knocking still ringing in his ears, Darcy threw open the bedroom door and blindly made his way to the closet, chucking the pillow and extra blankets inside. Closing the door softly on Lizzie's light snoring, he attempted to bring his breathing back down to normal.

  Georgiana was all smiles. "Good morning, Starshine."

  Darcy grumbled, "The earth says hello."

  She giggled and gave him a mock frown-y face. "Aww, what's with the sour puss? You've only been in town for a day, don't tell me you're already sick of seeing me."

  He blinked. "Have you looked at a clock? They do have clocks where you live, right…?"

  "Relax Fitzie," Georgie said rolling her eyes, "I'm not here for you anyway. I thought maybe Lizzie would like to grab some breakfast." Taking a quick look in the direction of the room service carts, she added, "But I fear she may have exploded."

  "She's fine; fully intact." Darcy grinned.

  "Where is she?"

  "Playing soccer," he deadpanned. "She's knocked out, Georgie. She's exhausted and needs to…"

  "So go wake her up, then!" She pushed her way into the hotel room. "Go, go, go! Egg McMuffin's are never better than when they're made first thing by disgruntled, underpaid, employees."

  With Georgiana on his heels, Darcy reluctantly opened the bedroom door. He positioned himself awkwardly on the opposite end of the bed and clicked on the desk lamp; swallowing the lump that had suddenly formed in his throat, he made a move to gently tap Lizzie's unconscious form.

  "Lizzie…"

  In response, she snuggled further down into the blankets covering up the spot of bare skin Darcy had just hit. Gritting his teeth he climbed further up on the bed and tried lightly shaking her.

  "Lizzie…hey, Lizzie…"

  That time there was a snort – from Georgiana's direction.

  Shutting his eyes, Darcy quickly gathered himself; he was going to have to approach this from an entirely different, much more dangerous angle. Slowly pulling the covers off of her shoulder, he leaned in close putting his lips to her ear.

  "Elizabeth," he whispered huskily while raking a hand across her skin. There was a delightful, little whimper that escaped Lizzie's mouth and he continued on for the moment completely oblivious to his sister's presence. "Elizabeth…c'mon sleepy head," he nuzzled her neck.

  Lizzie turned over with another contented moan and opened her eyes; her serene expression was immediately blown to hell at the sight of Will Darcy hovering over her and Lizzie did the first thing that came to her sleep-addled mind,

  She screamed and hit Darcy square in the face. Hard.

  "Jesus Christ!" he cried out in pain, reeling from the punch.

  "What the hell are you doing?!" Lizzie bolted straight up.

  "Bleeding internally!" Darcy shouted back, clutching his nose "What is wrong with you?!"

  "What's wrong with me?! What…"

  Georgiana loudly cleared her throat and a surprised Lizzie whipped her head around in the direction of the doorway.

  Georgie smiled. "Good morning, Starshine."

  xx

  "Did I mention how very sorry I am? Cause, I'm really, really sorry."

  Darcy's reply was muffled by the bloody rag covering his nose. "Yes; only about a million times."

  Lizzie smiled thinly and positioned herself between his legs. Darcy looked down from atop his perch on the bathroom counter, brows knit. "Should I be afraid?"

  Rolling her eyes she gently took the rag out of his hands. "Growing up with four sisters has pretty much made me a deadly weapon and for the millionth-and-one time, I'm sorry I unleashed the fury on you." She leaned in close to inspect his nose. "It doesn't look broken…"

  "And Dr. Bennet returns…" he said with a hint of a smile.

  "You did catch the four sisters part, right? She shook her head. "Okay, so Jane's Mother Teresa and all, but those other three heifers are forces to be reckoned with. When we weren't pulling each other's hair, we were pulling the hair of neighborhood girls on each other's behalf." Lizzie chuckled, "The Bennet clan has a proud tradition of kicking ass and taking names which ultimately leads us to be skilled in medical care."

  "What are their names?"

  Lizzie handed him the rag. "Who?"

  "Your sisters…the heifers."

  "Oh," she grinned, "well there's Mary who's nineteen; somewhere around eighth grade she hit a pit of despair that only Gerard Way of My Chemical Romance can understand and likes to express this by shopping at Hot Topic. Then there's Lydia and Kit, seventeen year old twin terrors. Complete walking hormone bombs; Lydia can actually smell men within a fifty mile radius and Kit's content following her every move."

  Darcy nodded a bit awkwardly at a loss as to what to say next. This was what Lizzie had wanted, right? For the two of them to get to know each other without treating the whole thing as a business deal and he'd done the impossible and managed to get her talking only to let his nerves get the best of him. He couldn't help it; there she was with her glowing skin, adorable, haphazard ponytail, and those eyes. His increasing attraction to Lizzie only served to wake up his social retardation.

  It seemed as though an eternity had passed in silence and she eyed him expectantly, fiddling with the bottom of her tanktop. "So…do you have any other siblings?"

  "No," he replied flatly.

  Utterly defeated by his sudden shyness, Darcy made a move to jump down from the counter and Lizzie instinctually backed up to give him room.

  "Thanks," he muttered.

  She shrugged. "Next time we're in the same town as your sister and I wake up to you looming over me like a rapist I promise I'll react a little differently."

  With a thin smile, he wordlessly exited the bathroom leaving a puzzled Lizzie behind.

  * * *

  "Okay…I'm gonna puke. It's not even the 'I feel like I'm gonna puke' feeling; it's the scary 'I know I'm gonna puke and it's gonna happen in the most horrible of places' feeling."

  Georgie gripped the dressing table for support and stared blindly into the bright lights above the mirror. Closing her eyes briefly, she counted silently to ten and when she felt she had successfully staved off the need to heave she turned to face a sympathetic Lizzie.

  It was funny her reasons for begging Lizzie to oversee all of her girly preparations for the recital had been completely mercenary. It was the first moment Georgie'd had with her alone after breakfast had (hilariously) fallen through and she'd planned to use this time to grill the unsuspecting woman. Only, Lizzie's genuine sisterly-like regard for her (and her nerves) threw Georgie's plans off entirely.

  Fiddling with the straps on the teen's dress, Lizzie smiled warmly. "Your brother tells me you're absolutely brilliant; don't worry you're going to be fine." Taking a moment to pause, she grabbed a nearby wastebasket and set it at Georgie's feet. "But, it's better to be safe than sorry. I hope you've got great aim, this dress cost me two weeks worth of paychecks," she said lightheartedly.

  Curiously Georgie tilted her head with a sideways grin. "You're different."

  "I've been told that," was Lizzie's self-deprecating reply.

  "No, I mean, you're different from the others. Will has a history of being the typical LA snot when it comes to his girlfriends," she sighed and shook her head. "Awful models and even awful-er actresses…"

  "Well,
to her credit, Cameron Diaz didn't suck as hard in Vanilla Sky." Lizzie smirked and gestured for Georgie to turn around. "Let me inspect the back and then you can be on your way to rocking the faces off an auditorium full of grey hairs."

  Georgie snorted as she twirled. "I admit I was shocked when I found out he was dating again. His last girlfriend, Eva…" she pulled a face.

  "Trouble, huh?"

  A nod, "That's one way of putting it; the way I was thinking involved a four letter word beginning with 'C'."

  Lizzie grinned. "Uh-huh."

  "Eva's just…well, a complete misuse of human cells – that's really the only way to say it that doesn't totally make me feel like I'm going to hell. She did a number on Will – the kind of number the sensitive types rarely recover from…" Georgie smiled wanly. "I guess I'm just asking you to go easy on him." She then added in a less serious tone, "Don't let this wispy blonde chick exterior fool you, I can kill without mercy."

  Lizzie's features softened. "I'll do my best, but only because wispy blonde chicks scare the piss out of me."

  After reining in her nerves (and vomiting only once), Georgie did in fact live up to her reputation for being brilliant and rocked the faces off the mostly older crowd packed in the auditorium that night – wowing them with a piece she composed entirely herself. It was when the group was making their way to the parking lot that she and Jonah excitedly announced they planned on taking Will and Lizzie out on the town.

  Darcy naturally soured at this. "Taking us where, exactly?"

  Lizzie shot him a look. "Don't get too eager there, Captain Fun."

  A loud laugh escaped Jonah's lips and he unsuccessfully tried to cover it with a cough when Darcy glared at him.

  "It's a surprise," Georgie told them with a grin. "Just make sure you change into something a lot less stuffy."

  "And perhaps, skanky," Jonah added sardonically.

  Georgie giggled at that. "Yeah, skanky is always good."

  In absolute panic, Darcy's gaze shot between the three; he loathed surprises and surprises from his sister (a painful memory of finding his Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles lurking the depths of the toilet bowl came to mind) were certainly nothing to look forward to.