Suddenly she thought of the name plaque on his desk: Hon. F. Darcy.
“What does the ‘F’ stand for?” she asked.
“What do you think it stands for?” he countered.
“Do you really have any doubt what I think it stands for?” she said, smirking.
He laughed. “Contrary to popular belief, my mother did not name me Fucker. It’s Fitzwilliam.”
Something about the name sent a little shiver down her spine. Fitzwilliam Darcy. Pemberley. She realized for the first time that she was actually in the presence of something old, something grand, something bigger than the mere man that stood before her. It frankly filled her with a little bit of awe. She turned to look at the beautiful house behind her.
“Judges make way too much money,” she said as she looked at the house. He chuckled.
“I assume you are attending the London conference?” he asked. She nodded. They discussed the topics and after some offers and refusals, agreed to attend together.
“Would you like a tour?” he asked. She was reluctant to spend time with him but thought of Jane as well as her last encounter with Darcy. She would need to make the effort to be nice.
“That would be nice, thanks,” she smiled. He led her on a tour of the main features of the home, including the portrait gallery.
“I’m afraid Mrs. Reynolds does a much better job than I do,” he said as they strolled along the gallery. “She leads tours on a regular basis. These portions of the house are open to the public,” he explained. Almost on cue, Mrs. Reynolds led a small party of elderly women into the gallery.
Darcy and Elizabeth watched as Mrs. Reynolds gave an explanation of the portraits, going back several generations. Elizabeth was struck by Darcy’s resemblance to another Fitzwilliam Darcy, dressed in Regency period clothes.
“You look very much like him,” she said quietly so as not to disturb Mrs. Reynolds.
“That is my great-great-great-great-great grandfather Fitzwilliam Darcy,” he said, counting the ‘greats’ on his fingers. “The name Fitzwilliam is somewhat common in our family. It started when that Fitzwilliam’s father married a young lady whose last name was Fitzwilliam. After that, there’s always been a Fitzwilliam Darcy floating around and there is also a line of cousins with the last name Fitzwilliam. Family gatherings can be a little confusing.”
Elizabeth was still staring at the portrait when Mrs. Reynolds moved the group down several portraits. Several of the older ladies looked at Darcy with recognition and nodded politely. He returned the nods graciously.
He had no idea that he looked quite lordly standing there. Although he was casually dressed in a blue check button-down shirt and grey slacks, his carriage left no doubt that he was completely comfortable in the formal surroundings. He stood almost posed in graceful relaxation, hands behind his back, one leg turned slightly.
“Now you will see the portrait of the current Master of Pemberley, Fitzwilliam Darcy,” Mrs. Reynolds called to the group. Elizabeth turned to Darcy and mouthed ‘Master?’ with an amused smile. He shrugged and gave a slanted smile. She followed slightly behind the group to see the portrait. She half expected to see him dressed in costume for the portrait but it was a very tasteful informal painting. He was sitting on a sofa with a young woman and a large grey wolfhound.
“This portrait was done about eight years ago. That is my sister Georgiana, you met her at Tahoe,” he said close to her ear. “She’s a musician. In fact, she was playing at the concert we attended in April.”
As the group prepared to exit the gallery, several of the ladies turned and said “Thank you very much Mr. Darcy for sharing your lovely home with us.”
“You are most welcome, I am very pleased that you are enjoying it,” he replied warmly. They smiled and Mrs. Reynolds nodded approvingly as she herded them out into another room.
Darcy motioned her into the hallway and quickly concluded the tour of the house. Next he gave her a tour of the immediate grounds and gardens. He was surprisingly knowledgeable about the gardens and the landscaping, telling her about the major landscaping renovations in the late 1700’s that produced the current delightful aspects.
“It is honestly the most beautiful home I have ever seen,” she said appreciatively as they strolled back to the main house. Elizabeth turned back to the view of the grounds. She could not imagine growing up in such luxury. Even harder to imagine was abandoning it.
“It must have been difficult to leave,” she ventured.
He shrugged. “Pemberley has always been here and will always be here. It didn’t seem to make much difference whether I stayed or left. So I left to see what else there was in the world.”
“Do you miss it?”
“Very much. I shall not be seeking a second term,” he replied.
“Then you mean to come back here?”
He shrugged again. “Eventually. It’s my home.”
He steered her toward the house where they met again with Bingley and Jane and sat on the terrace to have tea.
Elizabeth studied Darcy as he chatted with Jane and Bingley. It was like Judge Darcy was a completely different person who had stock in exquisite suits, glasses, and brylcream. Yet here he was relaxed in his open-necked shirt, hair un-gelled and no glasses. She could see now that he was a young man; she could not fathom how she had thought him old enough to be Georgiana’s father.
That evening in her bedroom, Elizabeth mused on the day’s events. Judge Darcy was Bingley’s best friend. This meant that they were likely to see a lot of each other if Jane and Bingley became more serious. She would have to be friends with him for Jane’s sake. She told herself that she would make the effort for Jane.
But in truth, she was beginning to like him. Jane had been right; away from the pressures of work, he was a nice guy. He had been polite and easygoing to her all day long. She supposed that he was thinking the same thing; they had better learn to get along if Jane and Bingley were going to be together.
Not to mention that he actually was quite handsome. All the praise of Mary King and Maria Lucas came back to her. He did have beautiful green eyes and his face was exceedingly handsome when it wasn’t scowling at her. He had a strong jaw and a sensual lower lip. She smirked as she imagined running her fingers through that thick wavy hair. Maybe the idea of him having the hots for her wasn’t so bad after all.
At the other end of the hallway, Darcy was getting ready for bed. He was exhausted, having avoided sleep until now in order to stave off jet-lag. He felt grimy and stepped into the shower, allowing hot water to sting his face. The shock of seeing Elizabeth had not quite worn off. He had made efforts to redeem himself in her eyes and thought he may have succeeded some; she had not avoided him after lunch and they had held at least one pleasant conversation without the help of Jane and Bingley.
Yet, he was still attracted to her. She was beautiful, no doubt about it. He found her sexy in unusual ways; something about the way her hair curled about the nape of her neck when she wore it up fascinated him. He thought it would be wonderfully intimate to kiss her there, ruffle those curls with his breath, taste her skin...
He turned the shower temperature over to cold and thought to himself, it’s going to be a very long two weeks.
June 3-Monday
At breakfast, Darcy offered to show Elizabeth some sights in London after they had attended the day’s seminar. She thanked him and after breakfast they climbed into his car and he steered toward London. The time alone in the car was going to be awkward unless she got her apology off her chest.
“I wanted to say how very sorry I am for my behavior to you yesterday... and before,” she said as she looked out her window at the countryside. “I was terribly rude and there was no excuse for it.”
His face flushed as he glanced at her and he was glad she was looking out the window.
“Really, there’s no need to apologize. I have thought on what you said last week and you are right. I am terribly rude, I hadn’t realized that
I’d forgotten my manners. You said nothing that I did not deserve. But I hope you will allow for improvement.”
“You’re wrong but I thank you all the same.”
He wanted desperately to change the subject. He cleared his throat.
“How do you like your Mini Cooper?” he asked.
“How did you know I drive a Mini Cooper?” she asked. He frowned. Why did she sound like she was accusing him of stalking?
“I have seen you in the parking lot,” he replied and decided not to reveal that he had seen her drumming and singing in her car. She seemed satisfied with that answer.
“It’s a lot of fun to drive. I have been thinking of taking one of those courses where you learn to race or maybe do an autocross.”
“Really? How interesting. I used to race cars, you know?”
She turned in her seat to face him.
“You used to race cars?” she asked sharply. He nodded.
“I did in college, a brief stint of about 3 years of semi-professional racing. My father hated it, it caused a minor scandal in my family,” he related. “I eventually quit after a particularly bad crash.”
She was not listening to his story.
“You are Speed Racer?” she asked in shock.
He had not expected the question, had in fact forgotten all about the Halloween party. He smiled slightly but did not answer; his cheeks reddened. Her face flushed and she sat back in her seat, looking forward. Good lord, she’d been all over him! She was mortified. Speed Racer was sexy and mysterious. Judge Darcy was neither. But Will Darcy... well, here he sat next to her... and her pulse was beating faster.
“I’m sorry, I should have said something at the party,” he said apologetically. He looked at her flushed face. “I didn’t want to embarrass either of us.”
“Wow,” was all she said. Then she said, “I would never have guessed. Never in a million years.”
“Yes, I know. You made it quite clear in Tahoe that you thought I should be eating strained peas in a retirement home,” he said to her, smiling.
She cringed deeper into her seat and flushed harder.
“You know, you did it to yourself. You wear those ridiculous glasses and plaster your hair down, who would think that you were any younger than 55?” she grumbled.
“I fully realize that. But again, you have made me see the error of my ways. I have thrown away my supply of hair gel and glasses.” He looked over at her in amusement. He didn’t want her to be apologizing for the next two weeks.
Elizabeth was desperately uncomfortable realizing what an injustice she had done him. She hoped that she had the fortitude to make it up to him over the next two weeks; maybe it would make their court appearances go more smoothly. The remainder of the drive to London was conducted in silent contemplation on both parts.
“Should I have worn something nicer?” she asked, glancing down at her black floral jersey wrap dress and beaded sandals, as they arrived at the Ritz hotel where the conference was held.
“You look fine, why do you ask?”
“You’re in a suit,” she pointed out. “I’m not.”
“I have a reputation to maintain,” he said to her with a half-smile.
“Nobody here knows you’re a judge,” she said.
“Everybody here knows I’m a Darcy,” he replied simply. She was shocked into silence as they pulled up to the hotel valet. They got out of the car and walked up the steps. The doorman opened the door and the concierge greeted them immediately.
“Welcome back, Mr. Darcy. Will you be staying the week?” he asked politely.
“No, I am here for the conference, thank you,” Darcy said almost absently. The concierge bowed slightly in deference.
“If there is anything you need, please let me know.”
She noticed similar responses to him throughout the day: when they went to a museum after the session, they were greeted by the curator, who offered to personally show them the best exhibits. For dinner, they got the best table without waiting despite the long line out the door. Tickets to the sold out play? No problem, Mr. Darcy, front and center.
On the way back to Pemberley they were even pulled over by a traffic cop, who greeted Mr. Darcy pleasantly and asked him to take care and watch his speed, not everyone was as skilled a driver as he. As they pulled back onto the freeway, Elizabeth blurted out, “Are you royalty?”
Darcy threw his head back and laughed. “No, I am not royalty.” He didn’t tell her that he was as rich as royalty. “The Darcy Policeman’s Pension Fund gets me out of tickets all the time.” He laughed again and shook his head.
“It must have been a huge change to come to the US,” she said as they sped back toward Pemberley.
“It was different, I admit. But that’s not to say it was bad. I learned to be completely self-sufficient, which perhaps I needed. But there’s definitely something to be said for knowing I can have almost anything I want.” Almost. They settled into an awkward silence, each contemplating the implications of his wealth.
He turned on the radio to mask the silence and punched the dial. Some disco song came on and he was about to change the channel when he heard ‘hot stuff baby tonight.’ Instantly he recalled her karaoke performance and he pulled his hand away from the dial. He smiled as he relived her routine, every hip thrust burned into his brain by the lust he had felt for her.
Elizabeth thought she saw a smirk on his face as the bass of ‘Hot Stuff’ thumped from the speakers but it was too dark to properly tell.
They pulled onto the gravel at Pemberley and climbed out of the car. He busied himself pulling his jacket from the back seat and brushing it off while secretly watching her walk toward the house. Her dress was swinging alluringly off her hips; he wondered if she knew how sexy she was. At that moment, she looked over her shoulder at him and smiled. His heart lurched to his throat and he looked down. He locked the car and jogged to catch up with her.
“Thank you for a wonderful day, Will. You are a great host,” she said as they walked up the stone steps together.
“The pleasure was mine.” Entirely. Completely. Absolutely. He was doomed.
They walked upstairs together as it was nearing midnight. They stopped at her bedroom door, just down the hall from his own. He tried not to think about it.
“Well, goodnight,” she said softly, her hand on the doorknob. He looked down the hall to his own room, weighed the likelihood of success, and sighed. He looked back at her.
“Goodnight.” He turned and walked to his own bedroom, closing the door firmly behind him.
Once inside her bedroom, Elizabeth admitted it to herself: she was attracted to him. She thought he might be attracted to her. She lay on the bed and thought about what it might be like to kiss him. She wished Lou were here to talk her into it.
Darcy heard a light tapping on his bedroom door. He assumed it was Bingley and did not bother to rebutton his shirt before opening the door. It was not Bingley, it was Elizabeth. He was too surprised to say anything.
“Sorry, is there an internet connection?” she asked hesitantly. She was holding her laptop in her arms. He blinked at her. She studiously avoided looking at his chest.
“Of course,” he replied. He buttoned his shirt and showed her downstairs to his study. He quickly set up her laptop and connected the internet for her. He noticed that she was again in pajama bottoms and a tank top but this time she still had a bra on and her hair was in a loose ponytail at the base of her neck. Still sexy, though, he thought. He ground his teeth and mentally berated himself. Get a grip, man!
“Thanks,” she smiled at him.
“No problem, feel free to use it anytime,” he answered. She smiled and immediately opened her laptop and turned it on.
“Goodnight again,” he said. She looked up at him and grinned.
“G’Night,” she replied. Darcy made his way back upstairs and lay awake in bed, thinking about her and what it would be like to see what was beneath those pajamas.
Elizabeth logged on to her Instant Messenger account. As expected, Lou was logged on. She ping-ed him.
she wrote.
Lou replied.
“Will” = Speed Racer = Judge Darcy = HOTHOTHOT
Chapter 8
June 4-Tuesday
Elizabeth slept soundly, dreaming of green eyes and running her fingers through dark wavy hair. She woke up flushed, nearly panting from the vividness of the dream. This would not do at all! The best thing to release this pent-up energy was vigorous exercise! After slipping on her track pants and halter, she knotted her hair at the back of her head. She flitted lightly down the steps and out the door, iPod blasting in her ears. She ran along the main road until she found a path leading to the fields. When she came to a puddle she splashed through mud, laughing with childish pleasure. Then she wiped her shoes in the grass so that she wouldn’t track mud into the house.
She had run about two miles when she stopped, leaning over gasping for breath. She put her hands on her knees panting when she felt something nuzzle her rump. She turned and jumped back with a violent start and a yelp as she came face-to-face with a large horse. It took her a moment to see Darcy sitting on the horse looking very amused. She jerked her headphones from her ears.
“That was not nice!” she exclaimed, putting her hand on her chest. “You nearly gave me a heart attack!”
“I’m sorry, he’s a very rude horse,” Darcy laughed. “You should sue him for sexual harassment.” Elizabeth laughed a little, over the worst of her shock, but heart still pounding. He looked... magnificent was the only word she could think of... astride his horse. He had on riding breeches and boots, clinging to the sensual curve of his strong legs. She wasn’t sure if her heart was pounding from just shock anymore.
Darcy had risen early after a very poor night’s sleep and gone for a ride to expel some of his restlessness. He had been riding for over an hour when he saw her running along the path before him. He had called her name but she had not heard. He followed her for a while at a walk, hoping she would turn and see him but she never did. He watched her butt bounce as she ran, admired the curve of her thighs and arms. She looked strong. A piece of her hair had escaped from its knot to curl around the nape of her neck. He had been fantasizing about kissing it when she stopped running to catch her breath. Now he was perilously close to pulling the band from her hair and running his fingers through those dark, damp locks.
The Trials of the Honorable F. Darcy Page 8