“Well, okay then.”
“Okay then.”
“It just seems like…” He trailed off, looking around the bar as if worried that he was being watched. Darcy braced herself for what she knew he was about to say next. “It just seems like you’re rushing things a little bit. Are you sure you … Are you sure you want to do this?”
“Do what?” She didn’t know what else to do, other than play dumb.
“Marry me.”
“What?” She laughed. “Of course I want to marry you. Otherwise, why would I have said yes?”
“I don’t know,” he began. “Maybe because—”
Darcy’s phone began to vibrate. It was a call from her brother.
Ah, she thought, relieved, saved by the bell.
“James, hi,” she answered the phone, then mouthed to Carl, Be right back, and stepped outside into the freezing-cold New York afternoon.
“Hey, Darcy,” James said. “How’s New York? Happy to finally be back?”
“Sure,” said Darcy. “It’s … you know, New York. Pretty time of year and all that. What’s up?”
“Just wondering if you’d heard about the Bennets.” His voice sounded calm enough, so she held back her immediate reaction of fear and concern.
“Which Bennets?”
“Kit and Lyle.”
“No, I haven’t heard. What happened to them? Is everything okay?”
“It’s not a huge deal, but they were caught vandalizing the school, those little punks, and now they’re going to be expelled. Mr. and Mrs. Bennet are beside themselves, obviously.”
“How’s Luke?”
“Luke? He’s fine.”
“Okay … why are you telling me this?”
“No reason really,” he said. “Before you left, you told me to keep you in the loop. This is me keeping you in the loop.”
Darcy laughed, amused by the idea that anyone in her family was ever actually listening to her, let alone responding to her words.
“Well, thank you, James, I appreciate it. How are you doing?”
“Me? Same old. We miss you, though.”
“I miss you too,” said Darcy, and meant it. “Talk soon?”
“Yeah, talk soon.”
Darcy hung up the phone and took a deep breath, feeling the icy air fill up her lungs, then slowly made her way back inside and took her seat at the bar next to Carl.
“That was my brother,” she said. “James.”
“What did he say?”
“He called to tell me that Kit and Lyle Bennet got expelled for vandalizing the school.”
“That’s strange.”
“Not really,” said Darcy. “They’ve pretty much always been delinquents.”
“No, I mean weird that he called to tell you that.”
“I guess. I think he just misses me.”
“Oh,” said Carl. “That’s sweet. I guess.”
“You guess?”
“It’s odd to me that he’d keep you updated on the Bennet family. Why would he think you’d care about what’s going on with them?”
“He doesn’t think I’d care about what’s going on with them,” Darcy said, irritated. “I told him to keep me updated on things in Pemberley. He was just doing what I asked him to.”
“And why do you want to be updated on what’s going on in Pemberley? You haven’t thought twice about Pemberley in a decade … I guess I just don’t understand why now.”
“How about because my mom is sick? Because I reconnected with my family for the first time since college? Did you ever think maybe I actually liked my time in Pemberley? Would that really be so hard to believe? Not to mention, Bingley will be living there now with Jim.”
“Ah yes, Jim,” said Carl, crumpling up a cocktail napkin in his hand.
“Yes?” asked Darcy. “What about Jim?”
“Another Bennet,” replied Carl, smugly.
“What’s your sudden problem with the Bennets?”
“First of all, it isn’t with the Bennets, it’s with Luke Bennet. And second of all, it isn’t sudden. I haven’t liked him since early high school, when I could tell he had a thing for you and—”
“Luke did not have a thing for me in high school,” Darcy protested. “He wasn’t even nice to me in high school.”
“Yes,” said Carl. “Exactly. He liked you but he didn’t know what to do about it, so he treated you terribly, and I hated him for that.”
“Oh.” This was new information to Darcy. She reflected on her life, wondering what she might have done had she known Luke liked her in high school.
“But apparently you like being treated terribly, because now he’s become your little make-out buddy.”
“We kissed twice,” said Darcy, outraged. “And I was drunk both times. You do know he’s engaged, don’t you?”
“I do know that, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d say the only reason you agreed to marry me was because he suddenly wasn’t an option.”
“How could that possibly be true? I’ve been dating you forever and just kissed him for the first time a week ago! I never had feelings for him before that.”
Darcy heard the words come out of her mouth and tried to screech them to a halt, but it was too late. There they were, out on the table.
“I mean I—” She tried to backpedal, but Carl interrupted her.
“So you do have feelings for him,” he said, nodding, more sad than mad.
“I … I think I might. Or at least I did. But he hates me now, so it doesn’t even matter, it’s a moot point. Look, Carl, what you and I have is so—”
“Why does he hate you now?” Carl interrupted again.
“Oh…” Darcy shrugged and tried not to cry. “He says I’m a snob and that I think I’m better than everyone else.”
“Well,” said Carl, sitting back in his chair, “he’s not wrong, is he?”
16
Darcy woke in the middle of the night with a pounding heart and sweat trickling down her forehead. Carl was sleeping soundly next to her in her California king–size bed. Why hadn’t he ended it with her right then and there, once he found out about her complicated feelings for Luke? She didn’t understand. But sitting up in the dark with her heart flopping like a fish out of water, she knew she was going to have to take action. If she wanted to ever feel at peace again, she was going to have to do the right thing.
Quietly, she slipped out of bed and into her study, where she found a sheet of her own stationery and a black fountain pen. She paused, realizing this was the second time in a week that she was leaving Carl with nothing but a note, and she felt guilty. She wondered if she should stay put and stick to the plan of marrying him, but that thought made her feel even guiltier. She couldn’t live that deep in dishonesty and feel okay about it.
Dear Carl,
I am so sorry to do this to you, but as cruel as it seems, it is kinder than if I had gone through with the marriage. I know you think we are supposed to be together, and I know our families certainly think so too, but I know in my heart that this isn’t right, and I have to honor that. You deserve better than me, someone who is certain about you. You’re a one-of-a-kind gentleman and you deserve the best. I sincerely hope that we can stay friends.
Love, Darcy.
She slipped the note into an envelope and wrote “I’m sorry” in big letters on the front, so that he’d understand immediately. Oh, she thought then, what if when he reads this he’s so furious that he trashes my apartment? What if he steals from me? What if he breaks all my things? Maybe I should reconsider. Wait until he wakes up, tell him in a public place. She mulled this over in her mind as she started throwing some clothes into her suitcase. Nah, she decided, if he trashes my place, I’ll get a new place and new stuff to go in it. All I know is I gotta get out of here immediately, before I change my mind.
She packed everything she needed, used her phone to hastily book a flight, left the envelope on the nightstand, then stealthily snuck out of the apartment as
she’d done before and hoped never to do again. She’d take a red-eye and be in Pemberley by daybreak.
* * *
She didn’t want to make a big fuss about returning to Pemberley—she didn’t need people asking questions—so she didn’t bother to tell Edward she was coming to town. She hopped in the first cab she could get and gave the driver directions to Bingley’s parents’ house.
Bingley, she texted, I’m back in town, can I stay at your folks’ for the night, I’ll explain later.
Explain now, he wrote back immediately. I’m intrigued!
Darcy rolled her eyes and started to type.
Darcy: I called things off with Carl. I’m back in town to take some space and clear my head. I don’t want to stay at my parents’ because I’m not ready to tell them what happened.
Bingley: Oh, girl. Are you gonna be okay? My parents are gone, take as much time as you need.
Darcy: I’ll be fine. A little shaken up right now. Are you with Jim?
Bingley: Not at the moment, but we’re very much together. Why?
Darcy: How is he holding up after what happened to Kit and Lyle?
Bingley: Worried. He doesn’t want them to have to go to juvenile hall. This was their last strike.
Darcy: Ah. That’s stressful.
Bingley: You’re just dying to ask me how Luke is doing, I can tell.
Darcy: Oh, shut up.
Bingley: He’s pretty distressed about his brothers. He practically raised them, you know, so he feels partly responsible for what’s happened.
Darcy: I didn’t ask!
Darcy put her phone facedown and a plan began to formulate in her mind. She found herself experiencing a series of feelings she had never felt before. First there was compassion, compassion for people who didn’t affect her life in any way. In the past she never would have cared what happened to Kit and Lyle, as it had no impact on her whatsoever. But now she found that she cared; the thought of them going to juvenile hall made her sad. It made her sad for Luke and Jim, mostly, whom she now cared for, whether they cared for her or not.
Then there was a feeling of wanting to take action for the benefit of other people, even though it would do nothing for her personally, other than the knowledge that she had helped. In the past, “feeling good about helping” was not an emotion she experienced. Even the few times she’d done volunteer work, she’d taken no real satisfaction from helping others. Either she worked toward bettering her own life and position or she didn’t work at all. And now she knew helping Kit and Lyle would do nothing for her—there was no financial reward, and it certainly wouldn’t change the way Luke felt about her—but she found that she wanted to do it anyway. She wanted to help Kit and Lyle get out of juvenile hall just for the sake of making people’s lives better.
As the taxi swerved along the country road, Darcy was struck by how differently she felt now from when she had first arrived back in Pemberley a week ago. Then, it had been eight years since she’d been there, and it had felt like entering a foreign, disorienting land. Now, looking out the foggy taxi window at the trees and winding road, it felt like home.
* * *
Darcy walked up the front steps of Pemberley High, a place she hadn’t been since graduation day, eleven years ago. She knew it was unlikely that anyone would be here on Christmas, but she’d only scold herself later if she didn’t at least try. The steps were wet and slippery with half-melted snow, so she had to be careful climbing in her velvet Manolo Blahnik heels. She walked in through the front entrance and down the main hall, past the rows and rows of lockers, which had gone from elephant gray to upbeat orange since the last time she had seen them. She didn’t know who exactly she was looking for, but she knew she had to get ahold of someone with authority.
The principal, she thought. Of course. Mr. Hastings will be happy to help me. I was his star student for four whole years. She let her memory zigzag her confidently through the hallways and to Mr. Hastings’s frosted glass window. Please be here, please be here! she thought, crossing her fingers as she walked.
“Oh,” Darcy said, as she came face-to-face with the window that no longer read “Mr. Hastings” but instead read “Mrs. Walsh.” She noticed a flurry of anxiety rise up from her stomach, which was her third or fourth new feeling of the day. At first she didn’t like it, mistaking it for cowardice, something she’d never demonstrate. Then she noticed how it made her feel alive, and she was more than up to the challenge.
What are you worried about? she asked herself, standing outside the door. You talk to new people all the time. You’re fantastic at it. You’re confident and brilliant and you know how to get what you want.
She turned the brass knob and pushed the door open. There she was faced with a grumpy-looking woman who reminded her somewhat of a frog, sitting at a wood-paneled kiosk.
“Um, hi!” Darcy tried, with a pleasant smile. “I’m here to speak with Mrs. Walsh.”
“Is she expecting you?” the woman croaked, looking up over the top of her thick-rimmed glasses. Darcy saw that the woman’s name tag read “Linda.”
“No, she’s not, actually. But hi, Linda, I’m Darcy Fitzwilliam. I’m an alumna of Pemberley High and I have a matter of importance that I’d like to discuss with Mrs. Walsh.”
“I’ll see if she’s available,” Linda said, shuffling some papers and reaching for the phone. “Hi, Mrs. Walsh,” she spoke into the receiver. “I have a Miss Fitzwilliam here to see you. She says it’s a matter of importance.” She said these last words like they were the most ridiculous words she’d ever heard. “Okay, I’ll send her back.” She hung up the phone with a heavy click.
“You can go on back. It’s the last door to your left.”
“Thank you.” Darcy bowed her head in appreciation and followed Linda’s direction to the last door on the left, which was cracked open slightly. Darcy knocked.
“Come in!” said a voice, much friendlier than Linda’s. Darcy pushed the door open and saw Mrs. Walsh sitting at her desk, a long-legged woman with excellent posture who seemed no older than forty-five.
“Hi,” said Darcy, extending her hand. “I’m Darcy Fitzwilliam.” Mrs. Walsh stood briefly to shake her hand, then sat back down.
“I’m Mrs. Walsh,” she said. “But you can call me Dawn. Please, have a seat.” She gestured to the couch on the opposite end of the room. Darcy took a seat.
“Nice to meet you, Dawn.”
“So what can I help you with today?”
“It’s about the Bennet boys, Kit and Lyle.”
“Oh boy.” Dawn whistled. “Those poor boys.”
“Yes!” said Darcy. “Exactly. They’re so … misguided. And—”
“I’m sorry, are you a relative of theirs?”
“An old family friend,” she replied.
“I see. And you’re aware of what they did?”
“I know they were caught vandalizing school property?”
“That was only their most recent offense,” she explained. “Before that, they were on probation for … hold on, let me see.” She put on a pair of glasses, removed a sheet of paper from a folder in the desk’s top drawer, and began to read from it. “Setting a trash can on fire, setting a classmate’s shoes on fire, kidnapping half a dozen frogs from the science lab and setting them free two days later in the quad, getting caught with illegal substances, spray painting obscenities on their own lockers, stealing test answers from a math teacher’s desk, giving another student a stick-and-poke tattoo during class, and last but not least, multiple altercations of a physical nature with both other students and faculty members.”
“I see,” Darcy said, shocked at the scope of the damage Kit and Lyle had done. “And this is all both of them?”
“Yep,” said Dawn. “When one of them gets into trouble of any kind, they both insist on taking responsibility. They won’t let each other go down alone.”
“Well, that’s … sweet,” said Darcy.
“Sure, that’s one word for it. I woul
d have gone with something more like demented or concerning, but sure, sweet works too.”
“But they’re just boys,” Darcy said, trying her best to brush off their behavior, which was, in fact, concerning. “They’re just acting out. It’s a phase.”
“No, dying your hair is a phase, smoking cigarettes is a phase. These offenses are the beginnings of genuinely criminal behavior.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that. Look, I’ve known these boys since they were—”
“What exactly can I help you with, Darcy?” Dawn interrupted, looking at the clock behind Darcy’s head.
“Well, like I was saying, I’ve known these kids practically their whole lives, and it would break my heart in a million pieces if they were sent away to juvenile hall. They wouldn’t recover from it; their futures would be ruined. Statistics show that most kids come out of there more troubled than when they went in, and how could they not? It’s practically torture in there. From what I’ve read, I do believe those kids are treated inhumanely, and I can’t let Kit and Lyle end up there. They’re like nephews to me.”
“Darcy,” insisted Mrs. Walsh, “we don’t know what else to do with them. They can’t keep going to school here—they’ve caused too much trouble. And no other school will take them—their reputations are way too tarnished. They’ve caused thousands of dollars of damage at Pemberley High, not to mention the psychological damage inflicted on many of the students.”
“Okay, fair,” said Darcy, chewing on her lip. “But what if I were to pay you for all the damage they’ve done?”
“Yeah, what if?” Mrs. Walsh sounded simultaneously annoyed and intrigued, prompting Darcy to go on.
“Would you agree not to send them to juvie?”
“Well, no, because even if you paid for all the damage they’ve done, that won’t prevent them from causing further damage in the future, now will it?”
“What if I paid for all of it,” she blurted out, surprising herself. “You can bill me.”
“I’m sorry, who are you, again?”
“I’m just … I’m just somebody trying to do the right thing.”
“And you’re willing to pay for everything? How could you possibly have enough money for that?”
Pride and Prejudice and Mistletoe Page 11