Compulsively Mr. Darcy

by Nina Benneton

  “I knew it.” Richard slapped the table. “I knew it. The damn bitch had something to do with it. They must have said something to Elizabeth.”

  Darcy’s face turned ashen. “Oh God! I remember now… she said something about being of no consequence and I think I even agreed… I was distracted. She misunderstood me. That’s why she didn’t come to bed that night! Why didn’t she talk to me? I would have explained what I meant.”

  “Because when you’re hurt, you can’t talk about it right then,” Georgiana said. “You casually lumped her in with the women you dated, and she has her pride.”

  “Lumping her in with the women you dated,” Richard suddenly remembered. “That day outside of DDF, I mentioned to Elizabeth about going out with one of your old flames. What’s her name, now? She left me a nasty note.”

  “How could you tell Elizabeth about my old flames?” Darcy’s hands flexed as if he wanted to strangle Richard. “I don’t have any old flames to speak of.”

  “Helena, that was her name.” Richard was triumphant. He sobered. “You’re going to kill me, Darce. I might have mentioned something about getting lucky with Helena and using your penthouse that night.”

  “What? You told her about the penthouse? She didn’t know about the penthouse. I never mentioned it to her. I’m not proud of that.” Darcy shot a wary glance toward his sister.

  Georgiana rolled her eyes. “Please. It’s not like I think you’re still a virgin.”

  “She received a phone call that afternoon while she was in here, this room. I heard it ring,” Mrs. Reynolds said. “I don’t know who called. But she went for a walk right after.”

  “She must have walked to DDF to talk to you. And then I intercepted her and… made it worse. I’m sorry, Darce.” Richard could kick himself for his big mouth.

  “She must have been so hurt… to suddenly feel she needed to leave”—Darcy raised a shaking hand to his mouth—“without talking to me.”

  Richard asked, “Who called her? The hospital called about the job? Or was that something she made up to break up with you?”

  “No, they didn’t offer her the job. I checked,” Darcy said. “I even thought about offering them money to hire her and have her come back. But I didn’t.”

  Not a bad idea, Richard thought but did not say.

  Darcy covered his eyes with one hand. “I’ve been too focused on myself to ask questions about why they didn’t want her. I should have done something to make her want to stay. She wouldn’t be in a dangerous place now.”

  “You are not responsible,” Mrs. Reynolds said in a firm voice. “Miss Elizabeth is a grown woman. She could have stayed and talked to you, no matter how hurt she was. It was her choice to leave instead and go to wherever she has gone.”

  The phone rang and Mrs. Reynolds went to answer it. Richard mouthed silently to Georgiana, “Where is she now?”

  She mouthed back, “Don’t know, still in Darfur, probably.”

  Darcy dropped his hand and stood. “I’m going after her.”

  Mrs. Reynolds hung up the phone. “That was Mr. Bingley. He called to invite you to a wedding next month.”

  ***

  Richard stepped out of his rented car and glanced around. Orinda had too many trees for a city boy like him.

  Elizabeth had safely left Africa last month and gone home to her parents. She still didn’t want to hear from Darcy and had moved on with her life.

  “Did she actually say she didn’t want to hear from you and she’s moved on?” Richard had asked when his cousin informed him.

  Darcy admitted he didn’t talk to Elizabeth personally, but a woman who answered the phone at her parents’ home had—upon hearing his name—immediately screamed, “She doesn’t want to have anything to do with you. She’s moved on!” and hung up on him. When he called back, he discovered a block had been placed on his number to prevent his calls from getting through. His emails, text messages, and a personal letter had also been refused.

  Richard had berated his cousin for giving up without talking to Elizabeth personally until Darcy threw a magazine at him and coldly told him to read page twenty. A photo, taken last month in Darfur, showed Elizabeth, with another man’s arms around her, boarding a private jet. The accompanying caption read:

  Is Dr. Elizabeth Bennet of Doctors Without Borders Jorge Cooley’s new love? The two bonded over shared concern about the atrocities being committed in Darfur. Has Jorge finally found a woman as committed as he is to saving humanity? Yes, a close, anonymous friend reportedly confirmed.

  Richard kicked a rock on the gravel driveway. He wanted to hear it straight from Elizabeth’s lips she had no more feelings for Darcy. If she indeed had moved on, with or without the famous playboy actor Jorge Cooley, then Richard planned to give her hell for her callousness and tell her to stay away from Georgiana.

  Some woman, obviously a crazy relative, had screamed in Richard’s ear when he tried to call Elizabeth—the same treatment Darcy received. Straightening his shoulders, Richard marched to the front door. Secluded behind a large grove of trees, with some unruly purple flowers dripping down from a vine growing along the porch’s frame, the house appeared homely and nonthreatening. At the last moment, he detoured a few yards toward the side window. He’d peek first before ringing the doorbell.

  “Ooompph!” He landed face down on the hard gravel—with someone’s foot pressed against his neck. He caught a glimpse of a dark figure before the pressure on his neck increased. His assailant twisted his left arm at a painful angle behind his back. Richard lifted his head and a blast of gas rushed at his face. His eyes burned. His face burned. His nose burned.

  “What the hell?” he tried to say but only warbling noises came out. His lips and tongue felt like someone had dipped them in hot oil. He concentrated on breathing instead. I’ve been Maced!

  “All right, dickhead. Why are you peeking into our window?” a feminine voice came from above. The foot pressed tighter against his left jugular, cutting off circulation to that side of his head. “Casing it? Watch it, I’ve got a gun on you.”

  When he could feel his tongue again, he managed to croak, “Dr. Bennet.”

  “What do you want with my father?” The foot removed itself from his neck. “Why are you coming to his home instead of his office at school?”

  “Dr. Elizabeth Bennet.” He massaged his neck and blinked rapidly to dispel the circling stars.

  “Why?”

  “May I get up? I swear I’m harmless. You have a gun,” he reminded her.

  “Just turn around,” she ordered and poked the gun against his back. “Now, tell me why you need to see Dr. Elizabeth Bennet?”

  “It’s personal,” he said. The gun pressed harder into his back. “Look, I’ve come all the way from New York to talk to her. I swear I’m not here to harm her.”

  “Are you the asshole who hurt her in New York?”

  The crazy relative on the phone! “No, that was my cousin. No, no! I mean they were engaged, but he didn’t hurt her. It was a misunderstanding. That’s why I’m here, to clear it up.”

  “Then why did she call me crying, saying she didn’t want to go home to him, she didn’t want to see him?”

  He pivoted. His eyes widened and his mouth fell open. A tiny woman stood in front of him holding a stick. A stick? She didn’t reach higher than his armpit in height. Her eyes were huge though, almost too large for her small, gamine face. He blinked rapidly again, this time trying to dispel the strange fear this anime-ninja girl gave him. “It was my fault. I might have said things that she misunderstood.”

  She tapped the stick against one palm, looking as if she’d welcome another chance to knock him down.

  “I just want to talk to her. You can be there if you want.” His voice betrayed a tiny quiver. He glanced around to see if she had help. No one else around. He couldn’t believe this tiny thing was the ninja that had flattened him.

  “She’s not here.”

  “Do you know where she
is?” He hoped Elizabeth hadn’t gone to Darfur again or to some other godforsaken place. “I need to talk to her, just for a few minutes. Even on the phone is fine.”

  “Give me your name and phone number and I’ll tell her you stopped by. She’s busy with the wedding.”

  “A wedding? Her wedding?”

  “Perhaps.” She crossed her arms. “I’m not saying anything else except it’s none of your business.”

  Richard was frustrated, but he didn’t have any choice. The finality of her voice and manner told him it wouldn’t work trying to persuade her otherwise. He gave his number and left.

  ***

  A week later, not hearing from Elizabeth, Richard tried calling again and discovered his number had been blocked. He gave up. Time for him to focus on getting Darcy to move on with his life. Elizabeth obviously had.

  Richard needed Bingley’s help. Except for that brief phone call inviting them to his sister Caroline’s wedding, Bingley had not kept in touch. He called Bingley’s emergency contact number and left a message.

  “Where have you been, man?” Richard asked when Bingley finally returned his call. “And what the hell have you been doing all this time?”

  “I’m in Zambia.” Bingley’s voice was cheerful. “I’ve been building playgrounds and teaching AIDS orphans. I wanted to do something with my life. It’s been a great experience. You should try it.”

  Richard shuddered. Definitely something bad in the water in Vietnam, he decided. He briefly described what had happened with Darcy. “He’s in even worse shape now than before Vietnam.”

  “I can’t believe Elizabeth is marrying someone else already. Are you sure? That’s a fast rebound. They were so into each other. I had a hard time getting him to leave Vietnam,” Bingley said. “That’s too bad. He needs some distraction. Are you guys coming to Caroline’s wedding? She’s marrying a plastic surgeon she met recently.”

  “Darcy’s not keen on attending, but I’ll drag him there. If the groom’s a plastic surgeon, maybe there’ll be beautiful women there for Darcy to have his own rebound fling with,” Richard said. “Do you know much about the guy?”

  “Nope,” replied Charles. “Since he’s brave enough to marry my sister, I don’t want to discourage him by asking any questions.”

  CHAPTER 27

  Oprah Melodrama!

  “Do you see what your problem is here?” the man on the left asked, looking straight at Elizabeth.

  She hesitated then shook her head.

  “Well, let me tell you. You need to get your lazy ass off your parents’ couch and do something with your life. You’re almost thirty, for God’s sake.”

  Feeling ashamed, Elizabeth’s eyes started to water.

  “Now don’t go teary eyed on me and use your troubled past as an excuse. You’re smart—too smart for your own good. You can do so much more for yourself and for those less fortunate in the world. But you’re lazy, that’s your problem.”

  “But I don’t feel good. I’m tired, so tired all the time now,” she whispered, looking away from Dr. Phil’s penetrating eyes. “I can’t keep anything down.”

  “Don’t tell me about not having energy. You’re going to sit and wait for someone to rescue you. Your knight in shining armor with a bag full of coins, perhaps?”

  The dark-haired woman sitting on Dr. Phil’s left leaned forward. “Honey, if you think you can avoid hard work by marrying money, let me tell you, you’re gonna be working hard for it anyhow in the marriage.”

  Fighting tears, Elizabeth protested, “But I don’t want to marry him for his money. I want him, just him. I love him. But he was doubly-fiancéed!” She sobbed into her hands and heard someone else crying loudly also. A click. The crying stopped.

  “Elizabeth, how many times have I told you not to watch Dr. Phil and Oprah together when they’re on the same show? It’s too much advice all at once. You’re crying harder than the woman on the show.” Jane had turned off the TV. “What was today’s topic?”

  “About getting my ass off the couch.” Elizabeth sniffed, feeling foolish but slightly grateful for the excuse for a good cry. “And do something with my life.”

  Jane tucked the blanket around her. “Your ass is where it needs to be right now, and that’s staying on that couch as long as you need to take care of yourself. Where’s Mom?”

  “She ran out to get some flaxseeds for the hockey pucks Mary wants to make for me.”

  “They’re oatcakes and good for you to munch on. They have lots of protein and fiber.” Mary entered and placed a glass of freshly made wheatgrass juice on the coffee table.

  After one glance at it, Elizabeth promptly threw up into a bowl Jane had at the ready.

  “I’d kill for a Snickers candy bar right now,” Elizabeth said afterward. She couldn’t wait for her father to come home tonight from teaching. He promised to sneak a Louisiana Hot Top Dog from her favorite grease joint on Durant Avenue in Berkeley. The women in the family had been trying to feed her healthy organic stuff.

  “Do you know how much refined sugar is in each bar? Your babies will grow up to be hyperactive,” Mary said. “I’ll make you a soy protein drink.” Mary took the wheatgrass and drank it before she left the room.

  Elizabeth pressed her face closer to the threadbare old couch, seeking comfort in the musty smell of her dad’s Old Spice cologne mixed with her mom’s Jergens aloe lotion. “He likes doubles. Double fiancées. Double babies!”

  “What?”

  “Nothing. I’m just grumping.” She thought Jane had left with Mary.

  “Honey, if you’re this grumpy during your first trimester, I’ll hate to see you at forty weeks.”

  “With my luck I’ll have to be on bed rest the whole time and never get off this couch.” She heard the self-pity in her voice and felt teary again.

  “You’re just sick of throwing up all the time. You’ll feel better soon.” Jane’s voice was gentle as she asked, “Lizzy, when are you going to call William?”

  “‘Hey, guess what? That virgin who gave you her cherry almost three months ago? She’s growing some fruits now. Want to see?’ Should I say that?”

  “Lizzy, you need to tell him.”

  “I promise I’ll call him when I can handle it. I can’t deal with it right now. Let me have my pity moment. I only have a few more days to feel sorry for myself before the wedding.” She closed her eyes and pretended to sleep. Aunt Mai arrived and Elizabeth heard Jane quietly steer her toward the kitchen.

  Mary had flown home right after Elizabeth got back from Sudan; Jane had arrived a few days ago. Mrs. Luc, Chau’s mother, had agreed to take over the running of Gracechurch Orphanage. Elizabeth suspected both her sisters had hustled back home once they found out she was pregnant with twins and living with their parents.

  “All I’ve done for weeks is lie on this couch, feeling sorry for myself. I’m a bad and pathetic country song.” She didn’t know what was happening to her; pregnancy had turned her into a blubbering crybaby with no common sense and no pride. Despite everything, she still loved William.

  Picture after picture of a younger him and various glamorous women kept replaying in Elizabeth’s mind. The worst was the one of him passionately kissing a Victoria’s Secret model with angel’s wings—at a dance club, of all places—with his hands on the girl’s breasts. After she saw that, she had impulsively signed up to work in Darfur with Doctors Without Borders. She wanted to be distracted by crimes against humanity and die a heroic death at the same time.

  “Good, you’re not asleep.” Aunt Mai entered. “Here’s the protein shake Mary made.”

  After drying her tears, Elizabeth sat up to drink her shake.

  “What were you thinking about just now that made you look so sad?” Aunt Mai’s hand brushed Elizabeth’s hair gently.

  “About the possibility of dying a heroic death in Sudan,” Elizabeth answered honestly. “Don’t mind me. I’m still in my melodramatic mood.”

  “How long were you there? Dar
fur, not the melodramatic mood.”

  “Long enough to throw up on everybody. I never made it out of the hotel near the airport. I was so sick from throwing up all the time they sent me straight home.”

  “It was fortunate Hussein was with you on the trip to Sudan.” Aunt Mai wiped a drop of shake from Elizabeth’s chin.

  “When he ordered me to give him a urine sample, I screamed at him,” Elizabeth admitted. Hussein’s response was that he sure hoped she was pregnant, for if she wasn’t, then he was going to kill her. She had been such an unbearable hormonal bitch on the trip over. He declared she was worse than any queen he had dated.

  “What was he doing there?”

  “He did a boob job on some Hollywood actress and she got him an invitation to work with some famous actor’s pet project, protesting and publicizing Darfur’s crime against humanity.”

  “That’s very admirable of him.”

  Elizabeth snorted. “No it’s not. He only did it so he could name drop his Hollywood connection. Neither of us saw any atrocities in Darfur, unless we count his meeting his fiancée.”

  At a star-studded reception that Hussein had dragged her to, Elizabeth spent the whole time in the bathroom throwing up and crying about what a failure she was to a very skinny woman, who she later learned was some famous actress and a Goodwill Ambassador for the United Nations. The actress soothed her and said that everything would work out. She even offered Elizabeth a ride in her private plane back to California. Some guy name Jorge Cooley helped Elizabeth onto the plane. She was so weak from throwing up, she didn’t even realize who he was or what movies he had been in, though Hussein whispered Jorge was very famous.

  Hussein and Caroline Bingley, who was there representing a Hollywood socialite union, bonded at the party, and were now happily planning a wedding together.

  “Will you be okay for the trip to the wedding?” Aunt Mai asked. “I worry about you and all those hours traveling in the car.”