Love, Lies and Lizzie

by Rosie Rushton

  ‘I guess you and he are pretty good friends, yeah?’

  ‘You must be joking!’ Lizzie laughed. ‘I do have a little taste. James is the most arrogant, pompous git I’ve ever . . .’

  George laughed. ‘I don’t think the county set would agree with you there. I hear that he’s one of the in crowd who gets invited to all the best parties, shoots on the Balmoral estate, hunts in France . . . the works.’

  He pulled a face and then smiled at her. ‘But I’m with you – I think he’s detestable. He ruined my life – or at least, made a damn good attempt to.’

  ‘He did what?’ Lizzie gasped, as they began strolling past the five furlong marker and on towards the start.

  ‘It’s a long story,’ George said. ‘And I’m sure you don’t want to hear it.’

  ‘No, please, I do,’ Lizzie urged.

  ‘OK, then. My father and his father – Alexander Darcy – were really close friends. They played for the local cricket team, belonged to the same golf club and were both mad about vintage cars.’ He paused. ‘You know, of course, that James’s dad was headmaster of Heddingfield?’

  ‘Heddingfield?’ Lizzie gasped. ‘Isn’t that the posh boarding school that loads of celebs send their kids to?’

  ‘Uh-huh,’ George nodded. ‘And a few minor royals. My father was head groundsman there and Alexander was my godfather. My mum died when I was really little and, to be honest, James’s dad was the one who got my father through it.’

  He took a swig of his drink.

  ‘He understood how my father was feeling – Mrs Darcy had been killed in a car crash the year before, when James was three. So he knew what it was like to bring kids up on your own. Sorry, I’m boring you,’ he said, as he watched the horses canter up to the start for the fourth race. ‘I’ll shut up and we’ll watch the race.’

  ‘No, please, go on,’ Lizzie said.

  ‘OK, but let’s sit.’ He gestured to a white bench near the rails and they sat down.

  ‘James and I used to play together in the holidays – they had a grace and favour house in the school grounds as well as their home in Scotland; I lived in the village with Dad,’ George told her. ‘I was clever – I mean, I know that sounds conceited, but it’s a fact – and the local comprehensive was rubbish – I was bored stiff and Mr Darcy knew it. So guess what? When I was thirteen, Mr Darcy engineered me a full scholarship to Heddingfield. I could never have gone otherwise – I mean, it was beyond our wildest dreams.’

  ‘So how come . . .?’ Lizzie began.

  ‘How come it all went sour?’ George asked. ‘Within a couple of terms of starting at the school, James took against me. Don’t ask me why, but he did. I was popular – I had lots of girlfriends and he didn’t. Could have been that, I guess – it’s a co-ed school, you know, and if a guy doesn’t have a girl, well he’s kinda out of things.’

  ‘Well, I guess you’d have to be pretty desperate to go out with a guy like James,’ Lizzie suggested. Whereas you, she added silently in her head, are something else.

  George shrugged.

  ‘Anyway, Mr Darcy was really good to me – he got me extra tuition in subjects that state schools don’t cover – Latin and stuff; he paid for some of the equipment I needed and he told me that he was pretty sure I’d make Cambridge if I worked hard.’

  ‘That’s brilliant – and did you?’ Lizzie asked.

  ‘Work hard? Sure. Get to Cambridge? Thanks to James, no, I didn’t,’ he said abruptly, downing the rest of his drink and chucking the plastic cup into the nearest bin. ‘I was expelled six months before taking my A-levels.’

  ‘Expelled? What did you do?’

  ‘I made one foolish mistake,’ he replied, a touch of bitterness in his voice. ‘I tried to help James’s sister.’

  Lizzie’s eyes widened.

  ‘His sister? Jenna?’

  ‘You know her?’ George sounded anxious.

  ‘Never met her,’ Lizzie said. ‘But I heard her singing on a CD . . .’

  ‘Oh yeah,’ George nodded. ‘Lovely voice – she sang in the school choir, solos and everything. Sounds like an angel, doesn’t she? It’s a pity she’s turned into such a conniving, manipulative little cow.’

  ‘But you said you were helping her?’ Lizzie asked.

  ‘She was a cute kid when she was younger, but then at Heddingfield, she got in with a bad lot – even the best public schools have them, although they don’t like to admit it. By the time she was fourteen, she was dabbling in drugs.’

  ‘Oh God!’ Lizzie gasped.

  ‘I found out.’ George sighed. ‘She had a crush on me, you see. She would follow me around, send me little notes, and I thought if she’d listen to anyone it would be me. But then one day . . .’ He took a deep breath. ‘I guess she thought it was clever and it would make her look sophisticated – she offered me some cocaine.’

  ‘Dumb kid! What did you do? Tell her father, obviously?’

  George shook his head. ‘Mr Darcy had had his first heart attack the month before, and news like that could have killed him. Or at least, that’s what I thought at the time. In the event, he died anyway.’

  For a moment, Lizzie felt a huge wave of sorrow for James. No mum, and now no father – that was hard. ‘Poor James.’ The words were out before she realised.

  George nodded curtly.

  ‘Three years ago, when I was in the second year of Sixth Form, Mr Darcy died. Another massive heart attack on the morning of Open Day. Awful.’ He shook his head, deep in memories.

  ‘Well, of course, once he was dead and I realised that Jenna was still into substances – I had to tell someone. I told James. That was my big mistake.’

  ‘He didn’t believe you?’

  ‘I thought he did. I told him I thought it was grief over her father’s death that had pushed her into it. I didn’t let on how long it had been going on. And he said he’d deal with it. Thanked me, even, for going to him. Next thing I know I’m up before the school governors and the deputy head and being expelled.’

  ‘But . . .’

  ‘He framed me. I guess I can’t blame him.’

  ‘Of course you can bloody blame him,’ Lizzie retorted. ‘That’s the most awful thing to do – but how? How did he do it?’

  ‘I was told that a wrap of cocaine had been found in my room,’ George said. ‘I thought I’d flushed all the stuff I took off Jenna down the loo but I suppose I could have missed one.’

  ‘So you told them? Said it like it was?’

  ‘You don’t know how the system works with these upper-class inbreds,’ George snapped, and then checked himself. ‘Sorry, that was uncalled-for. It’s just – well, Jenna swore black was white that I’d tried to get her hooked on the stuff. She even said I’d come on to her and snogged her – and yes, I hugged her once when she was crying because she felt so awful after snorting the stuff. See, it was no use. No one was going to believe me.’

  ‘I believe you,’ Lizzie said.

  ‘Thank you.’ George’s smile lit up his whole face. ‘I know we’ve only just met, but that means a lot.’

  His fingers brushed hers and her whole body tingled.

  ‘Come on,’ he said suddenly, his tone of voice lightening. ‘Let’s head back. I fancy one of those swish crab sandwiches.’

  ‘But what if James . . .’

  ‘He may want to avoid me, and that’s up to him,’ George said. ‘I’m not going to stop doing what I want just to keep him happy. Too many people have done that for too long.’

  ‘Good for you,’ Lizzie said. ‘But what I don’t get is how come Charlie and Caroline can be friends with a guy who can behave like that?’

  ‘Oh, don’t get me wrong, James can be absolutely great with people he approves of – his own set, you know? The two homes, three cars brigade, I call them. But with people who try to better themselves, well, that’s different. He used to slag off my mates from the comprehensive – said he didn’t know why I kept in touch with them.’

 
‘I can believe that,’ Lizzie replied. ‘He thinks I’m the pits because I went to Meryton Academy. You must tell Charlie—’

  ‘No way. I am not the kind of person to do that,’ George said, quickening his pace. ‘In fact you’re the first to know the whole truth.’

  ‘Well, I’ll tell them,’ she insisted. ‘I mean, seeing the way they hang on his every word . . .’

  ‘Please. Don’t.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘James was only trying to protect his sister, I guess. And – well, his father was like a dad to me,’ he said. ‘Before he died, when I visited him in hospital, he asked me always to be a mate to his kids. “Friends,” he said, “are what holds lives together.” Well, right now, they won’t let me, but one day . . .’ His voice broke. ‘One day, please God, they’ll come round and everything can be sorted and forgiven.’

  ‘You are one amazing guy,’ Lizzie breathed. ‘I could never be that tolerant.’

  ‘I believe in live and let live,’ George smiled. ‘And hey – life’s good now. I took a year out, travelling in Australia – I have to be on the go, I can’t just sit around feeling sorry for myself, you see. I worked as a lifeguard on Bondi Beach for a bit, learned survival skills in the bush, did a bit of sailing. And now . . . well, I’m staying with Denny for a while and then, who knows what the future holds?’

  He smiled at Lizzie and her heart missed a beat.

  ‘I just have a feeling that whatever it is, it’s going to be very good.’

  ‘Come off it, Jane, how could he have made it up?’

  All day, Lizzie’s mind had been full of what George had told her. She hadn’t seen him after their talk, but not seeing him didn’t mean her mind was not full of him. Full of everything he had told her, and full of how he looked, how he sounded, how his eyes reflected all his emotions – sadness, hurt, regret. And she couldn’t help wondering: did he fancy her? Just a little bit?

  It wasn’t until late that evening that she had the chance to offload on Jane. Knowing how her sister always defended the underdog, she had expected her to explode with anger at the first mention of James Darcy’s behaviour. Instead, her sister simply sat there on the end of her bed, looking at Lizzie as if she was crazy and shaking her head in disbelief.

  ‘I just don’t believe it,’ Jane insisted.

  ‘Why not? Why would George lie?’

  ‘For one thing, Charlie would never be taken in by a guy who was that devious – and he and James have been really close mates all the way through uni.’

  ‘So?’ Lizzie demanded. ‘Charlie wasn’t at school with him, and George was. So which one is more likely to know the truth?’

  For a moment, Jane hesitated, but only for a moment.

  ‘Look, Lizzie, people don’t get expelled on a whim,’ she reasoned. ‘Especially from a high profile place like Heddingfield. If George was as innocent as he’s led you to believe . . .’

  ‘He is, Jane, I know he is,’ Lizzie said. ‘It was just that he couldn’t prove it. I mean, he didn’t hide anything, he told me every detail – and he’s not even bearing a grudge like I would in his position.’

  ‘Know what?’ Jane smiled. ‘I reckon you fancy him.’

  Lizzie nibbled on her thumbnail.

  ‘I – er – well, yes, I do a bit. I mean, he’s so – well, just lovely. There’s no side to him – what you see is what you get.’

  ‘How can you say that?’ Jane demanded. ‘I mean you only met eight hours ago – and for all of ten minutes!’

  ‘I just know,’ Lizzie replied. ‘When it comes to people, I always trust my intuition. And I know that George Wickham is a whole heap better than James Darcy could ever hope to be.’

  CHAPTER 10

  ‘A lady’s imagination is very rapid; it jumps from admiration to love . . . in a moment.’

  (Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice)

  ‘YOU ARE JOKING? EMILY – ARE YOU SAYING DREW KISSED you?’

  Lizzie stared at Emily as she climbed into the passenger seat beside her later, the day before her party.

  ‘Is that so amazing?’ Emily challenged. ‘Am I that hideous?’

  ‘Don’t be silly,’ Lizzie retorted. ‘I’m just surprised, that’s all.’

  She thought it best not to mention her episode at the races.

  ‘Well, it was only a quick kiss,’ Emily admitted. ‘But he asked if I had a boyfriend, and when I said no, he said he just knew that was all about to change.’

  For a moment the power of speech failed Lizzie totally and she felt hugely guilty.

  ‘Emily, I’m so sorry,’ she began. ‘I mean, I know I pushed you and Drew together and I was really grateful when you took him over to Cambridge for the day, but—’

  ‘So you’re saying you want him now, is that it?’ Emily broke in. ‘Well, fine, if you do, fight me for him. Because I’m sick of always being the one who can’t get a guy and I reckon I could pull him big time.’

  ‘Fine, but —’

  ‘But nothing. I know what you’d do – pull him, and then in a few months, drop him, like you did with Toby. I’m not like that. I want a guy and I want one for keeps. And tomorrow, at my party, I’m going to go for it, OK? And if you don’t like it —’

  ‘Emily, it’s fine. OK. You go for it. Drew Collins is the last person on earth I want.’

  ‘So what are you making the fuss about?’

  ‘I’m not – I’m just – well, he’s not exactly . . .’

  ‘Good enough for you? I doubt the person exists who would suit you.’ Had it not been for the teasing note in Emily’s voice, Lizzie could have taken offence, but her friend nudged her and grinned.

  ‘If you really like Drew, then bring it on,’ Lizzie said.

  ‘I don’t know him well enough to like him or not like him,’ Emily replied, her honesty taking Lizzie by surprise. ‘But I don’t get guys easily and this one seems to be available. Like, I am so not going to pass up on that.’

  She snapped her seat belt into place, and turned to Lizzie. ‘Now, are you going to come and help me choose a totally sexy outfit or not?’

  ‘You’ve already got three new dresses.’ Lizzie laughed.

  ‘Yeah, I know,’ Emily grinned. ‘But now I need a pulling dress. Come on!’

  The Lucases had really pushed the boat out for Emily’s eighteenth. Mr Lucas had recently sold the family business, Lucas Lighting (‘shedding light in your darkest corners’) to a national chain of furniture stores for a massive amount of money and clearly was not averse to spending a great deal of it entertaining everyone he knew.

  He had hired the whole of Longbourn Country Club for a dinner for a hundred and twenty guests, including all the Bingleys and the Bennets and a number of Mr Lucas’s business colleagues. A huge marquee had been erected in the grounds to which another hundred people had been invited for dancing to a live band. Emily had invited absolutely everyone she knew and her sister Maria had been only too willing to make up the numbers with her mates – and the club’s bistro had been transformed into a 1950s-style American ice-cream parlour and soda fountain.

  The driveway to the club was illuminated by Chinese lanterns swinging on bamboo poles and each dinner guest found a white tea light candle in a tiny replica lantern at their place.

  From the moment the Bennets arrived, Lizzie had been scanning the room, hoping to catch sight of George. She knew Emily had invited him – she’d made sure of that during the long day spent in a dozen fitting rooms while her friend tried to find the definitive dress for seduction. (Lizzie had finally persuaded her to buy a gorgeous floaty aquamarine and seaweed-green dress and a pair of strappy metallic sandals, had spent two hours highlighting her hair for her and now, looking at the result, she had to admit that the time hadn’t been wasted.)

  ‘Hi, Lizzie, how you doing?’ She turned to see Denny, for once without Lydia at his side. ‘Got a message from George – he can’t come tonight.’

  Her heart sank like lead. She’d blown a load of cash on
a slinky black dress that was rather more revealing than her usual choice and now . . .

  ‘Why?’

  ‘He’s had to go to London,’ Denny said. ‘One of his mates has arrived from Oz and has got himself into a bit of a mess – got mugged first day and has no cash. George felt he had to go and help him out.’

  He lowered his voice, glancing across the room. ‘Although between you and me, I don’t think he’d have dashed off so fast if a certain person hadn’t been invited to the party.’

  Lizzie followed his gaze. James was standing staring intently at her. Catching her eye, he turned and walked to the other side of the room.

  ‘Anyway,’ Denny went on, ‘he says he’s gutted to be missing it and that he would have phoned you, but he doesn’t have your number. He asked me to give you his.’

  He handed her a piece of paper.

  ‘Thank you,’ she replied, her heart lifting a little. At least he wanted her to make contact. And that had to be good.

  ‘James keeps looking at you!’ Emily sidled up to Lizzie as the guests were making their way to their tables for the meal. ‘I think he fancies you.’

  ‘For God’s sake, Emily, you’re obsessed!’ Lizzie retorted. ‘There’s only one person on the planet that James fancies and that’s himself. You know what I told you.’

  ‘About him and George thingy – where is George, by the way? I invited him like you asked me to. Why isn’t he here?’

  ‘Because he can’t bear to be in the same room as James,’ Lizzie said. ‘And if it wasn’t for you being my best friend, I wouldn’t either.’

  ‘Well, you are, so please, can you force a smile?’ Emily asked. ‘By the way, I bet Jane’ll miss Charlie after tomorrow. Pity she’s not going.’

  ‘Going where?’

  ‘To Tuscany, silly,’ Emily replied. ‘Didn’t she tell you? The Bingleys go every August for about six weeks, usually. They’d be there by now if it wasn’t for Charlie’s dad being – well, you know.’

  ‘No, I don’t – I mean, I know he’s been ill.’

  ‘Nervous breakdown, very hush hush,’ Emily whispered.

  ‘Why? What’s to be ashamed of?’