by Ari Rhoge
“Well, yeah,” Georgy grinned. “But I'm just missing a couple of lectures, most of which are online. And Will doesn't work anymore.”
Darcy scowled, brushing a crumb from his mouth. “Wow, Georgy, now I have to clarify before she thinks I'm lazy.”
Lizzy snorted. “God, am I that judgmental?” Will looked at her seriously, and she slumped her shoulders, scowling. “Well, fine.”
“No, Lizzy knows,” Georgy said. “I told her you were going to leave the company in a matter of months. He takes his LSATs in June. His weeks are spent studying, now.”
Lizzy nodded, remembering. Will couldn't really read her expression. She met his eye, and suddenly looked to Georgy, a smile spreading slowly on her face. She glanced over her shoulder and back, pointing a finger. “You are checking our waiter out. —— I knew it.”
Georgy opened her mouth, outraged. “Nuh-uh.”
“Was it the tattoo on his hand? Or the insanely green eyes?”
“The eyes,” admitted Georgy, grudgingly. Lizzy raised her fists triumphantly.
“I'm sorry,” Will started. “Who are we checking out?”
“We?” asked Lizzy, teasingly. “Georgy, you have competition — Will's scoping him out, too.”
“Will likes his tattoo,” Georgy sighed sadly, mock glaring at her brother. “Damn you, Will.”
“No, I think he's more of an eye man,” Lizzy responded, grinning into her cup.
“Really?” Georgy laughed. “I don't know. He could be a butt man.”
“An arse man.”
“Ass man?”
“Okay,” Will said, pushing off from the table. “I'd really appreciate a change in topic. One that doesn't involve admiring the waiter's eyes, or his tattoo, or, you know, anything else.”
“Or his questionable hygiene,” Lizzy mumbled, looking back from over her shoulder. “I just caught him picking his nose.”
Georgy slumped, scowling. “Damn, there goes my idealization.”
Lizzy sipped from her straw silently. When Georgy got up to use the bathroom, she let slip to Will, “so, he wasn't really picking his nose. But he has a tattoo and three piercings, and I might have seen him coming in on a Harley when we first got here. I'd like to think I'm saving you a heart condition.”
“Lizzy, that's diabolical,” Will said, laughing, surprised. “And brilliant.”
She shrugged, and stirred her drink.
“What would I do without you?” he asked.
“Oh, I think you'd get on fine,” she snorted, softly. She wouldn't look at him.
“You would think,” he repeated. When she glanced up, he smiled knowingly, and she looked back down again with a scowl. But there was a pink tinge to her cheeks that hadn't been there a second ago.
Will leaned in close on his elbows, his eyes focused on her face. He had wanted to ask her something for a while. “Hey, Lizzy?” She looked up at him curiously, and he continued, “you haven't seen George Wickham, have you?”
She almost dropped her straw, eyes wide. “Um.”
“I'm sorry,” he said, quickly — and he meant it. She instantly looked upset. “I was just talking to Georgy the other night. I already know that she made you promise not to tell me where she was working. I put no blame on you for that, whatsoever. But I know you used to work with him.”
“I haven't seen him,” Lizzy said, curtly. “I would tell you if I had.”
“Would you really?”
“Duh,” she muttered, pushing off from the table. “Look, Will, I take responsibility in not looking into the situation further. I warned Wickham to back off, and I put enough trust at stake to believe that he had. For that, I think I'm sorry enough. But you put such a short leash on her — no wonder she was too afraid to tell you anything.”
Darcy's mouth hung open in shock. He closed it quickly. “Short leash?”
“Didn't you ever wonder why I accused you of whisking her back here?” Lizzy asked, patiently. “I mean, it was obviously a wrong assumption, but I had enough evidence on my side. You wanted to control where she went to university, who she associated with, where she worked. Honestly, she might as well have been pole dancing instead of playing the guitar — that was how afraid she was of upsetting you. You have very high expectations of her.”
If this conversation had occurred months ago, Lizzy would have expected him to scowl at her and fire back something like, “so, you're saying it's my fault” while sanctimoniously defending himself. But Will Darcy just sat back, startled, and Lizzy watched his mouth settle into a grim line. He looked down into his lap, and mumbled, “if she was just open with me… If I had just encouraged her to be open with me…”
“No, look, Will,” Lizzy said, wincing, apologetic for the look on his face. “I'm not defending her decision-making process, and I'm definitely not saying this is your fault. It's not. I understand that you love her more than anything else in the world. But I think she'd like to know that you can trust her. Especially after everything that happened with Wickham.”
Will looked up at her, and nodded. “I'll talk to her.”
“Okay.”
“I don't mean to be controlling.”
“I know.”
“It kind of just —” He winced, groping for words. “— It's just the way —”
“I know,” she said, laughing.
Georgy found them again, adjusting the strap of the purse on her shoulder. She looked up warily. “What are we talking about?”
“You,” Lizzy teased. Georgy rolled her eyes, and sunk down in a seat beside her brother.
“Fine, don't tell me,” she muttered.
“Fine, we won't,” said Lizzy. Will rubbed his mouth to conceal a smile.
After lunch, the trio stopped by an adjacent record store, scoping out stacks and listening to music. Lizzy bought a Bob Dylan record, and Will brushed through some old David Bowie albums, primarily Hunky Dory and Aladdin Sane. They visited a hand-me-down book shop, and grabbed coffee an hour later, catching full glimpse of the creaky Victorian building an old woman had allegedly been butchered in. (“Bullshit. It's probably a neighborhood myth,” Lizzy had said, laughing, and to which Georgy had raised an eyebrow, and responded, “that's what they all say.”)
By evening, they were back on the road, heading toward Ashcroft. Lizzy yawned into her fist as they crossed the bypass, and Will glanced over at her, his hands on the wheel. “Maybe you should try sleeping in a bed tonight,” he suggested.
“Maybe.” She smiled. “I liked that room, though. It's so toasty.”
“I could put a space heater in yours.”
“No,” she shrugged. “It wouldn't be the same. I don't mind.”
“Well, I have a fireplace in my room,” he said, sheepishly. When Lizzy glared at him, Will laughed. “I would trade you, of course.”
They stopped for a gas fill-up shortly afterward, and found Georgy sleeping soundly in the back seat, her head cushioned by her satchel, her knees drawn up to her chest. Will said, “guess who she reminds me of right now?”
Lizzy looked at him skeptically.
“Seriously? Rosings, on our way back from Pickwood?”
“Oh,” Lizzy said, laughing. “Right.” She rubbed the back of her neck, unsure of why this made her so uncomfortable. She watched Will fill up, and hopped up on the trunk, legs crossed Indian-style. Through the windshield of the car behind them, a little boy was ramming a toy car against the seat. Lizzy grinned at him, and waved, and he smiled timidly, shrinking out of view. He would pop up to sneak glances at her every few seconds. Lizzy giggled.
Darcy was looking at her, smiling slowly.
“Don't do that,” she said, pointing a finger at him crisply.
“Do what?” he asked.
“Imagine me as a mother.”
“Why would you think —”
“Will.”
“Fine.”
She snorted softly, and rubbed her jaw, watching him. The sun was setting behind him, and he was constant
ly squinting into it as it beat into his eyes, raising his hand at his brow to act as a visor. Lizzy laughed, and he spun around. “What, you want to try, with the sun blinding you like this?”
“I think I'm up to the challenge.”
She took the nozzle from him, set the switch on self-operating, and stepped back deftly. Lizzy waved at him. “Look, Ma — no hands!”
Darcy looked defeated. “I forgot about that.”
“You haven't filled up in a while, have you?” she snorted.
“No,” he admitted, sheepishly. Lizzy laughed and he took a seat beside her on the trunk. He sighed. “You definitely have a way with making me feel like an idiot.”
“I'm sorry,” she faltered. “Well, kind of. I guess it depends on the situation — I'm not sorry when it's amusing.”
“Thank you,” Will said, sarcastically.
She grinned up at him, and, for a moment, forgot her own personally established rule of not holding eye contact with Will Darcy for long periods. The corner of his mouth twitched upward, and he tentatively lifted a hand, tucking a wisp of her hair behind her ear. She stiffened, and became very unsure of herself, especially when his hand lingered, and cradled her cheek, his thumb brushing gently across her lower lip. She closed her eyes.
The whirring of the nozzle suddenly stopped, and Will glanced over his shoulder at the numbers that had ceased climbing, giving Lizzy a chance to gather her bearings. She hopped from the trunk, and shook her hair out of its clip to smooth it in place, her back facing him and sparing him the sight of the blush that was warming her face. A minute later, Will set the nozzle back, and held the door open for her. “Going in?”
“Yessir,” Lizzy said, nodding, and ducking under his arm and into the car.
22
—
Get Ink, Shed Tears
In life, it is only natural to make mistakes. After all, we've all had our dumbass moments. Alfred Wallace asked Charles Darwin to revise a certain theory he was independently proposing, titled 'natural selection'. Napoleon Bonaparte underestimated Britain's use of Prussian allies at the Battle of Waterloo. Whitney Houston married Bobby Brown. Hey. Been there. It's okay.
Okay, fine, so I haven't fucked up that badly. But I've definitely been using bad judgment since I came to Pemberley — I was handling the Darcys all wrong. And I had this sinking feeling that Will was getting the wrong impression of how I felt about him. And, okay, maybe no serious harm would come from this. Nothing to shake up history, anyway. But in my little bubble of the universe, this was an issue.
And I couldn't really control myself.
Every time I gathered up the gusto to try to be indifferent and detached, to ignore every single look he was giving me, and every purposeful little word, I would hold out for only a few minutes, tops, before caving in. He would pull the Body Snatcher thing and get me to laugh at a cheesy joke, or leave himself wide open for ridicule. He would do little things like hold open doors, and offer his coat, and pick a dust particle out of my hair. He would grin, a lot. And I wasn't pushing him away.
I swear, it's so much easier to peg someone as an asshole and be done with it. If I could, I'd stamp it on people's foreheads, right off the bat. But once they start straddling that line between jackass and do-gooder, nothing makes sense anymore. It's like living in perpetual confusion after that.
We were barely two feet inside the Pemberley Estate before Georgy weaved her arm through mine and led me to the kitchen. She was smiling in a way that was all shifty-eyes and secrecy. Honestly, if you ever meet this girl, just run away. She smells like sunshine and unicorns — fine — but deep down she really just wants to ruin your life. I promise you. She's an imp.
“Man, I had such a good nap in the back seat,” Georgy said, patting my hand. “Was I out for long?”
“About half an hour,” I answered, skeptically.
“Oh, right. Yeah, I started to wake up when we stopped to fill up for gas.” She turned to face me, her eyes wide and innocent. “You were having such a nice time with my brother, weren't you? It's such a shame the meter interrupted it.”
I gave her half a second before I lunged, and she leaped out of the way and burst into giggles.
“You were supposed to be asleep!” I said, blushing. “God, you're a pain in the ass.”
“Warming up to Will, aren't you, Lizzy?” Georgy teased, with a grin. “Oh, come off it — I'm not completely deranged.”
“No — just delusional,” I snapped, rolling my eyes.
“Hey, I know what I saw.”
“What, me waiting for your brother to fill up the car?”
“Yes, but also something that starts with 'f' and ends with 'ing',” she started, and her face screwed up in horror a second later. “Wait a minute —— that came out wrong.”
“Wow.”
“I meant flirt—”
“Miss Bennet,” Bea Reynolds suddenly called, and I was surprised to find that we had argued ourselves all the way into the kitchen. Bea was stirring something in a pan, her apron tied neatly around her waist. She tossed something orange at me, and I reached out instinctively, catching my cell phone in my hands. “You left it on the counter this morning.”
“Good arm,” I smiled. The battery was dead, and I made a mental note to charge it later, shoving my phone in my jean pocket. Georgy was still staring at me judgmentally, and I reached out and messed up her hair. “Stop looking at me like that. You're silly and young and you don't know anything about life.” I paused. I'm pretty sure I've said this to Lydia before.
She gaped at me. “You're not that much older, Lizzy. And you're so completely full of shit.”
“Georgy.”
“Sorry, Bea.”
Late evening was creeping up on us, and given the fact that it was “Lizzy Bennet's best Friday night in years” (She-Darcy's words, not mine), we decided to do something so completely extraordinary and Facebook-status warranting that it would shake the very foundation of civilization for years to come.
We rented a movie.
With microwave popcorn.
Maybe now you understand the shaking-civilization part.
So, we settled down in the family room, Georgy beside Will, him with his laptop (“just taking care of some emails”), and popped in A Knight's Tale. I sat at the far end of the couch — one that wrapped around in little sections — and Georgy raised her eyebrows at me. “You know, there's room over here.” She pointed to a patch of couch beside her brother.
“I like my space,” I murmured, taking a sip from my cup of tea.
I also liked not sitting next to Will Darcy and being faced with the potentially awkward situation of doing either of the following:
A) Accidentally touching elbows or knees;
B) Nodding off in the middle of the movie and finding my head conveniently on Will's shoulder;
C) Giving him the wrong idea.
So, we watched in silence. Will closed his laptop after the first half, and settled for glancing at me every 10 minutes — which was, y'know, awkward. After a while, I snapped, at him, “wouldja stop looking at me? —— For God's sake.”
“You just look upset.”
“I'm not.”
“Did I do anything?”
“No.”
“Then why do you look upset?”
“Dude,” Georgy said, sharply. “I'm in the middle of watching Heath Ledger in one of his most glorious roles, and you're ruining it. I get the whole silence is golden, duct tape is silver gag — but, really, I'm not above that threat. If we don't have duct tape, I'll use something else. Now, shut the hell up.”
After a sufficient silence passed, Will asked, “that time of month, Georgy?”
She hit him on the shoulder, and I snorted, slapping a hand to my mouth.
By the time pizza arrived, we had to rearrange ourselves so we could eat on the coffee table, so I gave up and got closer, only with my own personal promise to avoid any of the scenarios outlined previously.
Even when I felt myself drifting off, I made sure to lean against a pillow.
How I woke up around the credits with my head against Will Darcy's shoulder… I still don't know.
It was almost midnight when I shuffled off to bed, muttering quick goodnights. I plugged my cell charger into the wall socket, and hooked my phone up. I sat at the edge of my mattress, wondering about the next day and trying with difficulty not to think about this evening. I would probably have to catch up with the Gardiners, to decide how soon I had to be out of Pemberley by tomorrow. I glanced at my phone once the welcome screen passed.
(17) MISSED CALLS
“Damn,” I muttered, dialing my voicemail quickly.
Jane's hysterical voice pierced the silence of the room, and I froze, listening and not really listening at the same time. Then twice more. I dropped my phone.
• • •
Will Darcy wasn't sleeping when the sound caught his attention. It was 12:30 a.m., true, but he couldn't find himself nodding off easily. When you're not a morning person, you're generally a night owl — it's one or the other, save for your occasional offbeat personality. He wasn't even tired, and when the sound of wheels scratching against hardwood floor rose through to the upper level of the house, he jumped to his feet in an instant and slipped out of his room carefully.
His room overlooked the foyer, and he peered out, down past the staircase where a shape was huddled, trying carefully not to thump a suitcase across the floor. And, because he could think of nobody else who would do this, his heart sank with disappointment. Darcy clutched the railing, and sprinted downstairs quickly, stopping halfway. “Lizzy? It's you, isn't it?”
She froze, and this confirmed it. He switched on the light next to the stairs, and walked up. “You're not really leaving, are you?” he asked, trying to keep his voice light, and failing miserably. It had something to do with the fact that she wouldn't face him, and it made him agitated. He repeated her name gently, and put a hand on her shoulder. “I've done something wrong again, haven't I? I've fucked up.”
Lizzy turned around, and Will caught sight of her face, ghostly pale. The rims of her eyes were red and puffy, and her mouth was set and determined. She just shook her head, and said, meekly, “I —— I have to go. I'm very sorry. I just… I have to go.”