by Maggie Way
“Billy’s going to help me make the cupcake batter. I’m short-staffed today.”
“He who steals must steal no longer; but rather he must labor—”
“Yeah, yeah.” Elizabeth dismissed him with a shrug. She couldn’t pick on him for being a good guy. Aside from her, Bill was Lottie’s closest friend. They’d spent their entire childhood in the houses right next to each other. “I suppose I’ll take some treats to go. Can you add in a scone? They smell amazing.”
“I saw Lydia climbing in Kitty’s window this morning as I was leaving.” Lottie’s look was knowing. They both knew Lydia wasn’t coming from Mom and Dad’s place but from parts unknown.
Elizabeth shook her head. This was not the first time she, Lottie, and often Jane had this conversation.
Lottie handed her a bag. “We’re still good for lunch?”
“Of course.” Because they lived together, Elizabeth was allowed to keep an account at the café. Often, after a run she’d grab a drink without having to worry about carrying money.
“Good luck out there.” With her chin she gestured to the man outside.
Elizabeth wagged her brows. “Forget that, I’d rather use it for my meeting today at work. Don’t you be late, Bill.” She jabbed her finger at him for emphasis. Though she wasn’t too worried he’d miss his meeting with the grand dame herself. The Bourgh could almost be considered his demigod.
Bill went behind the counter and donned a fire-red apron that said Hot stuff coming through.
“As if,” he said in a voice that could be a smacking-good imitation of Lydia.
Lottie laughed and returned to refill customers’ coffee. She looked supremely happy even if her ponytail was starting to come undone and there was a smudge of chocolate on her glasses. Elizabeth wondered if she appeared this blissful when at work? She hoped so, though not likely today considering what was on the agenda, but definitely when she was talking with clients.
When she stepped outside, the guy faced her, though he continued to drink from his mug. With no words at her disposal, she turned and headed home. Though the urge to turn back, just once, was awfully powerful, she didn’t give into it. It was like people said, she really could feel his stare focused on her. Or at least she imagined she could.
Thankfully, at the block’s end she turned off, and he was out of sight. Her brownstone was within sight. Two things Elizabeth loved, her company and her house. She was lucky she had enough sisters to be able to let the rooms and cover her mortgage. Though technically Lydia still lived at home with Mom and Dad, she hadn’t slept a night there in nearly three months. Not that she was sleeping at Elizabeth’s place either.
Elizabeth made a mental note to start charging her rent.
Crossing a pasture, she climbed Mr. Yelvington’s fence, cut through a second pasture, and came up through the backside to a row of homes. Hers was on the end.
When she entered through the back door, the screeching of sisters fighting, a safe guess would be Kitty and Lydia, greeted her. Briefly, she considered turning around and going to work as is.
Instead, she went into the kitchen and found Jane sitting at the little table drinking coffee.
“Scone?” Elizabeth placed the bag before her.
Jane shook her head. “I think I’m too nervous to eat.”
“What’s the worst that can happen, Jane?” After plopping into a chair, she pulled the still-warm scone from the bag. Elizabeth liked to face all the possible scenarios.
“I’m not sure,” Jane said.
Elizabeth knew Jane would have a hard time conceptualizing something awful. It simply wasn’t in her nature. Her worst scenario was Elizabeth’s best case one.
“I suppose we go more automated. Though that’s not how I envisioned things when we mapped out this business.”
Case in point. Going more automated was what Elizabeth expected would be the push. Closing shop forever because of some unattainable demands was her worst case.
“How do you feel about that?” She pushed half a scone toward Jane.
“Honestly?” Jane waited for Elizabeth’s nod. “Maybe I’ve become disenchanted with love, but if our way hasn’t been successful enough for Lady Catherine, then how’s automating going to improve that?”
“How’s that?” Elizabeth wasn’t sure she followed. “What's this have to do with being disenchanted with love?”
Jane leaned closer “I truly thought the human factor would appeal to people. That clients would spread the word, and business would boom.”
“We are growing. Slowly and steadily. We’ve only been open four years.”
“But people don’t want others to know they’ve found love through a matchmaker, Lizzy. I thought people wouldn’t care. That the love would be enough, and they’d shout it from all over.”
Elizabeth had to agree. “It is surprising how private people are about this, all the while posting every other tidbit on social media.”
“Kitty! Give it to me,” Lydia screamed.
“That’s it. I’ve had enough.” Elizabeth slapped her hand against the table then rose. “Did you know she snuck in this morning? Lottie saw her as she was leaving for work.” Not waiting for a response, Elizabeth stomped from the room and came to a stop at the bottom of the stairs. Putting two fingers in her mouth like their dad taught her, she whistled long and loud. By the time she was done not only Kitty and Lydia were at the top landing but Mary as well.
“I’ve had enough. This is ridiculous. Jane and I can’t even have a conversation in the kitchen because we can’t hear each other. Here’s the solution. Lydia, if you want to live here, you need to start paying rent. Today.”
“But there are only four bedrooms.” She crossed her arms. “Why should I pay for sleeping over in Kitty’s room?”
“It’s my room too,” Mary says.
“That would be a sound argument had you actually stayed over. We’re not your beard, Lydia. You can’t tell Mom and Dad you’re staying here and not be here. What if something were to happen to you? No one would know until it was too late. You don’t want to pay rent? Stay home. But if you stay more than two nights a week then you’ll need to split Kitty and Mary’s rent with them. By staying over, I mean even sneaking in at four in the morning. You’re welcome to move in but not for free. You’ll contribute to groceries and utilities as well.”
Lydia stomped her foot and opened her mouth to speak, but Elizabeth held up her hand. “You can talk it over with Kitty and Mary today and let us know by this evening. But if you decide not to move in, you can’t sleep here the rest of the week. When was the last time you slept at home?”
“You’re an evil witch, Elizabeth Bennet,” Lydia said very near tears. Crocodile ones to be sure. The thing about Lydia was she had no money. As soon as she got paid, she blew it on shoes and handbags and whatever else struck her fancy. Not that Elizabeth wanted her to move in and bicker with Kitty all the time, but the responsibility would do her good. Elizabeth doubted it would happen. Lydia couldn’t afford it, and she’d need Mary’s permission to share the space, which wasn’t likely. Dad mentioned she’d maxed out two credit cards. How she even got those Elizabeth would never know.
With a shrug Elizabeth said, “See you at work.” Then she went back into the kitchen. It was blissfully quiet.
“You need to get ready, Lizzy. We should get to work earlier than normal today, just in case.”
Nodding, Elizabeth scooped up the remains of her scone and made her way to her room that, thankfully, was on the bottom floor. In order to offset the expense of starting the business and buying a brownstone, Elizabeth had converted the study into an additional sleeping space. She loved the wall of bookshelves and circular stained glass window and had no regrets offering Lottie the larger room across the hall.
Jane had selected the large room upstairs with the view. Elizabeth had the bucolic view of Mr. Yelvington’s cows and meadows. The downside was summer when the windows were open and a slight breeze blew from
his field toward their house.
With summer hinting at making an early appearance, Jane and Elizabeth decided to take advantage of the slightly cooler morning air and walk to work. Soon enough, temps would be high. Air conditioners would be running non-stop, and their neighboring cities, New York and Boston, would be warning of possible brownouts.
On the walk, they discussed a few new ideas and strategies that might improve awareness of the company. All previous campaigns to bring clients out to rave about their services had failed. No one wanted to become a print ad saying they needed help finding their mate.
They beat Bill to the office by ten minutes. He was loaded down with fresh pastries and a box of coffee from Lottie’s. After cleaning out the coffee pot, he turned it on but didn’t set it up, instead dumping Lottie’s brew in the carafe and setting it on the warmer.
“Are we ready?” he asked while pouring a cup.
The use of ‘we’ irked Elizabeth, as he was nowhere to be found the last few nights while she printed data sheets. Standing up, she showed him her old school binder with all the figures and forms. “I’m more than ready.”
Bill pointed to the two-inch binder in her arms. “Yeah, that doesn’t scream a need for automation or at the very least some tech training. I’ll be waiting by the front door to greet them.” His boy band hair was combed more to the side so one eye was covered by bangs. Like a wannabe pirate. A glob of something brown was stuck to a branch of hair near his ear.
“Ah, Bill you might want to—” She gestured to the region near his ear and made like she was smoothing it out.
“Please, Elizabeth. Don’t call me Bill while they are here. If you must use my first name at all, call me William. It’s more professional.”
Elizabeth wasn’t sure how he surmised that. Bill Gates might object.
He did as she suggested and came away with the glob in his hand.
“Chocolate cupcakes I’m guessing.”
“They’re here,” Kitty whispered over the phone’s speaker system. Bless her for coming in early. Thankfully, she didn’t press intercom, as the entire office, including the lobby, would have heard her announcement.
Bill jumped and quickly wiped his hand with one of the napkins he brought with him. He paused by the door, clutching his hands over his heart and said, “Dear Lord, we are so blessed.” Elizabeth had the sense he was not only trying to remind her of the good luck and fortune, but himself as well. Then he split.
Elizabeth wanted to understand his attachment to The Bourgh. Lottie had once tried to explain it. Something about Lady Catherine being a surrogate mother to him. Bill, having lost his mom when he was a ten, was left with a heavy-handed, ridiculously strict father. When his efforts to please him failed, Bill bought into the belief that any attention was better than none. He’d embarked on a life destined for future jail time had his mother’s long time friend not interceded and derailed him from his self-destructive ways. Whatever Bill’s mom and Lady Catherine had in common would forever remain a mystery to Elizabeth, and neither Bill nor Lottie were willing to part with the information. Regardless, Elizabeth knew he credited the current state of his life to her rescue.
“They’re here!” Elizabeth said in mock excitement to Jane. “However do we get through the days without them?” She shook Jane by her shoulders. “Oh, want to make a wager? I bet this Darcy character is unsightly. That’s why the pictures are all blurry. What do you think it is? Crossed eyes? Missing nose? A nipple in the middle of his forehead? Come on, take a guess.”
“Stop it, Lizzy.” She laughed and pushed her sister’s hands from her shoulders. “I’m sure he’s perfectly fine.”
Elizabeth shrugged. Perfectly fine took good pictures. What was this guy’s deal?
“Shall we then? Let’s go see?” Elizabeth gestured for Jane to precede her.
She followed her to the glass doors. Bill was stroking his chin, nodding excessively, and bobbing around like a mating-intended Bird of Paradise. The Bourgh was talking over his head to the person holding open the front door, though all Elizabeth could see was a forearm.
“Should we go out or let them come to us?” Jane whispered.
The person holding the door stepped in, and Elizabeth found her words lost, caught in her throat.
“Holy cow,” Elizabeth said.
“Yes,” echoed Jane.
It was a man. A tall—had to be over six feet—solid yet not bulky man who was meant to command armies. His close-cut hair and clean-shaven face spoke to a dedication to detail that was seen in his crisply ironed shirt, with narrow but prominent pleats that ran down the length from the breast pockets and were perfectly aligned.
Elizabeth swallowed. If this was Mr. Darcy, they might be in serious trouble. Going up against him would take a formidable will and even stronger constitution.
When their gazes met he nodded slightly and provided a slight smile. It was then Elizabeth knew he didn’t want to be here any more than she or Jane wanted him here.
This might be easier than she thought.
“Come on.” She pulled Jane with her as she entered into the main room.
“Good, good,” Bill said and clasped his hands together. “Lady Catherine, you remember my cousins, Elizabeth and Jane Bennet. It’s been a while since we all saw each other.”
Could one really say four years was a while? Seemed like it was only yesterday that The Bourgh had her lawyer hammer out her part of the deal.
Lady Catherine, a tall, well-coiffed woman dressed in a navy blue Chanel business suit, who continued to show signs of aging no matter how many times she had a facelift, scanned the sisters up and down.
“You’ve both matured into pretty things, I must say.”
“Thank you,” Jane said.
“Yes. Thanks.” Elizabeth echoed.
“But you’re awful at running a business. You should marry yourselves off and call it a day.” Not waiting for a response Lady Catherine gestured to the man behind her.
Something about him, maybe the way he stood stock-still or simply because he had similar blue eyes, reminded her of the man on the sidewalk.
“Let me introduce my nephew, Colonel Fitzwilliam. He is leaving the Army soon and will be joining the corporation.”
At the mention of his Army career, the Colonel pressed his lips into a thin line. Elizabeth considered his presence and knew it was a loss to the country that this dangerous man would no longer be protecting and serving. She’d not like to come across him in a dark alley.
Poop. If this man wasn’t Mr. Darcy, what were they to expect? If the corporate raider was anything like his cousin, they might be in for it.
Chapter Four
“William.” Lady Catherine de Bourgh eased her thin-framed glasses from her face while scanning him from top to bottom. “You should come around more often for dinner. You’re getting too thin.”
He loved that she mothered him—in her bossy, not very maternal way. Though he hated when she called him William. It reminded him of his over-bearing and pessimistic father and made him wonder if others compared them—or worse—expected them to be similar because they shared the same name. He’d been teasing Lizzy when he told her to call him that. Sorta. He knew Lady Catherine would have appreciated hearing it.
But there would be no asking Lady Catherine to call him anything other than his given name. His mother had always done so, and Lady Catherine would honor that, hoping to preserve what little memories he did have of her.
“Thank you, Lady Catherine. You’re very kind. But we see each other weekly as it is, and sometimes coordinating those are very difficult.” He smiled widely. “You are a very busy and sought after woman. You have better things on your agenda than dining with me.”
“Nonsense, William. I adore you as much as I do my own child.” She brushed the bangs from his eyes. “I will be staying at Rosings for the next few weeks while we iron everything out here. You will come at least three times each week to dine. I will not allow for less.”<
br />
Fortunately for Bill, he saw right through her haughty mannerisms. He knew she’d been struggling with loneliness since her husband, Lewis, passed a few years ago. With Anne having moved out right afterward—well he didn’t mind filling in some of the emptiness. Sometimes she would talk about his mother, and he’d have those rare and sudden memory-moments where he would recall how she sounded or how lovely and airy she smelled.
“Speaking of children, has Anne showed up yet?” Lady Catherine glanced at her watch, a delicate piece encrusted with diamonds, and then sighed with dismay. “Is it possible for that child to ever be on time?” She focused on Bill. “While here, William, I expect you to use your positive influence on Anne. Guide her toward the right path—”
She cut off her words as the front door swung open and in stepped Anne de Bourgh. She’d cut her long dark hair and now sported a short, sporty style that was dyed blonde.
He liked it. It suited her lanky frame.
“Ah,” she said while lifting her hands in praise. “My brother from another mother. Well, and father. If you were Catholic, Billy, we would need to spend some time in a confessional—if you know what I mean—I just got back from the Netherlands.” She ended her greeting with an exaggerated wink then stepped toward him with arms held wide.
“It looks like it suited you. Dutch living.” He refocused on the people before him.
Hugging Anne felt good. Like he’d been the one who’d gone on a long journey and just come home to the safety and comfort of his family. Except they were the ones seeing the world and would be moving on soon enough. Rosings Park was respite for them. But as Lady Catherine liked to say, “sleep and rest were for the dead and weak.”
Not the first time, Bill wondered if that was why he liked to sneak into the city and frequent the open mic comedy opportunities. It was another Bill, another lifestyle. An adventure. Heck, traveling into the city was its own undertaking of commuter trains and seedy parts of town, but standing under a spotlight in front of strangers and trying to make them laugh was a high he’d yet come to understand.