by Ari Rhoge
“Let's go dance some more.”
“Can't!” Lizzy shook her head violently, and hugged her knees to her chest. “Won't.”
“Oh, come on. If Will can, you can,” Richard encouraged, dropping an arm around her shoulders supportively.
“Please don't shame me like that.” Elizabeth made a face. She looked out across the dance floor, and found him again. He wasn't with Anne anymore — he was talking to the double-bassist of the band. He shook his hand, and smiled. Lizzy sat up straight, puzzled. “Darcy just smiled.”
“He does that, you know,” Richard said, dryly, taking away her champagne glass. “I'll finish this for you.”
“He doesn't,” Lizzy insisted, shaking her head. “Man, I hate that guy.”
“No, you don't.” Richard laughed.
“I do!” Lizzy slurred a little, then laughed at herself. “Seriously.”
“Seriously? You don't,” Richard said, calmly searching her face. “I was there at the diner last night, remember? I've never seen two people who like to argue with each other more. I felt like I was interrupting something, and nothing romantic was even happening.”
“I don't enjoy arguing with him—!” Lizzy practically squeaked, flailing her arms.
“Easy does it,” Richard said, grinning, and steadying her shoulders.
“I enjoy pissing him off a little bit,” Elizabeth admitted, guiltily. “It's just fun. I hate him a bit. But some people are just fun to provoke. —— I don't know why I'm telling you this. I'm a terrible human being.”
“You're a little drunk.”
“I'm a little drunk,” Lizzy agreed.
“The most refreshing honesty comes from drunkards,” Richard shared, straightening the lapels of his jacket dutifully. “In my experience, anyway, if that counts for something. I could just be full of shit.”
“Yeah,” she murmured, resting her chin in her hand. Lizzy sighed sleepily. “Yeah, you really could be.”
“Listen,” Richard said, nudging his knee into hers. “Will's a good guy. Will's a really good guy — one of the best people I know — and I usually hate my family. He's not what he seems. He's—”
“—a special and unique snowflake?” Lizzy guessed, playfully.
“Shut up,” Richard said, laughing, and ruffling her hair. “I'm being serious. He's got a good heart. He is fiercely loyal to those he loves. Take a bullet, lift a train, be Superman for those he cares for. You name it.”
“What does that have to do with me?” Elizabeth mumbled, smoothing her dress.
Richard smiled gently, and looked straight ahead again, before shaking his head. “Lizzy, just take it to heart. He's not like anybody else. He's not like other guys.”
“Duly noted, Capitan.”
“You're such an arse.” He rubbed his eyes, chuckling. “You believe me, right?”
“Not really,” said Lizzy, sighing. “Maybe. I don't know. I know him, and I don't know him. I just know how I think I know him. You know?”
“No.”
“Me neither,” Elizabeth winced. She rested her forehead against her hand. “But he seems like a good friend. To you… and to Charlie, to be honest. When he was here. Well, back home. Netherfield.”
“You met Charlie Bingley?” asked Richard, slowly. “When he came to Philadelphia?”
“Mm-hmm. He was in the car with Darcy when we crashed,” explained Lizzy. “Darcy was an asshole. But Charlie was just nice. So, so nice. —— I don't get it. I don't understand what happened.”
Richard frowned thoughtfully. “Darcy's been anything but an asshole to Charlie, Lizzy. He'd do anything for that guy — that's his best friend.”
“Yeah, so I hear,” Elizabeth muttered, darkly.
“He helped him dodge a bullet a few months back,” Richard told her. “Some girl, near his B&B in Philadelphia. Blond — Charlie likes blonds. He was serious and she wasn't. Darcy convinced him to leave before it blew up in his face. He saw right through her. How many friends have your back like that? How many of your friends give a shit?”
He thought he had made his point clearly. After all, Lizzy Bennet was looking at him so seriously now, her brow furrowed and her mouth gaping open. “When was this?” she asked, quietly.
“Not sure… maybe a couple months ago.”
“Oh.”
“Listen, darling. I'm going to go try again with Nadine,” said Richard. He kissed her hand, and smiled. “Take care of yourself. Remember what I said. I may send Will over to look after you, in case you hit the alcohol too hard again.”
“Right,” Elizabeth said, distractedly drumming her fingers against her mouth. She was frowning, and she looked up a little too late. “Wait, what?” But Richard had already gone, and Lizzy had sat there mulling over his words for too long.
Darcy convinced Charlie to leave. Darcy… convinced Charlie to leave.
“I need another one,” Lizzy muttered, getting up to pour herself some more champagne. She succeeded too, and drained another glass before Darcy found her staring intently at the screen of her phone 20 minutes later at her table. She was rereading a text message from Jane, her brow creased in concentration. Her thumb hovered hesitantly above the green 'call' button, and she bit her lip.
“Who are you calling at 11 o'clock at night?” Darcy asked, sitting in the chair next to her.
Elizabeth looked up, surprised. “You,” she said, harshly.
“Me.”
“I wanted to talk to you.”
“Me too,” Darcy said, quietly, and he looked up at her intently. His face registered surprise then, and he blinked. “Are you…? How much did you drink?”
“Not a little,” Lizzy said, sighing. “I have a headache.”
“Let me take you back to the hotel,” Darcy offered.
“No,” she snapped. “I'm fine. You're just… you should just leave. Leave me alone. Charlotte will take me back.”
“Elizabeth, Charlotte and Collins already left for their honeymoon two hours ago,” Will said, slowly. She hated him for it. She hated him for lots of things. “They even said goodbye to you. You and Charlotte hugged for what had to be 15 minutes.”
“Oh, right. After the… bouquet was tossed. Shit!” Elizabeth muttered, cradling her head in her hands. “Richard will drive me back.”
“Richard left with that girl.”
“Red Dress? Oh, that bastard.”
“Come on.” Darcy got up, and took her hand. “Let me take you back to the hotel.”
“Okay,” Lizzy said, meekly. “Oof!” She swerved on her heel, and nearly knocked into a centerpiece. “Fuck. Fucking centerpieces. Nobody needs a vase of lemons on the table. Lemons, not even flowers. What is that?” she demanded. “Darcy, nobody cares about fruit!”
“Careful!” Will laughed, steadying her with his arm around her waist. “You must be a lightweight.”
“Shut up.”
“I take your hostility as concurrence,” Darcy said, dryly. “Don't let go of my hand — I mean it. Follow me.”
14
—
Delicate
They took a taxi back to the hotel, with Lizzy whining in the backseat the entire time (“can we please stop moving? Stop moving!”). Darcy gently led her into the lobby. Then into the elevator, where she slipped on the threshold and began laughing hysterically when he caught her and swore under his breath. And then to the 13th floor, where Darcy politely asked Lizzy for her key because she was too incompetent to slide the card into the door herself.
“Stay right there,” Darcy commanded, firmly, turning his back to her for a moment. He swiped the card and the light flickered green. “Elizabeth?” he asked, whirling around.
She was halfway down the corridor, beating her fists on one of the doors. “Let me in, Charlotte! You always lock me out! You selfish whore!”
“No, no, no, no — that isn't your room!”
By the time they got in, Lizzy seemed to completely forget that he was there. She breezed past him, kicked off
her heels, and fell into her bed — face first, too, much like the night before. Will lingered hesitantly at the door. And then she mumbled, “hey, bring me a trashcan from the bathroom. I may or may not puke right now.”
He obeyed.
By the time Darcy came back (with both a waste basket and a bottle of water from the minibar) Lizzy had fallen asleep. She was curled up into the fetal position, her knees drawn toward her chest, her arms hugging a pillow. Darcy half-smiled, and shook his head, quietly dropping the waste basket in front of her nightstand. He pulled the covers up to her shoulders.
• • •
Elizabeth woke up four hours later with a headache. She sat up in bed very slowly. Water. There was a bottle on her nightstand — she chugged it down. Vaguely, Lizzy remembered that there was Advil in her toiletry bag in the bathroom. She looked down at her legs, pale and bare. She had fallen asleep in her dress. Her hair was long, tangled and knotty now. Dozens of bobby pins were on the dresser, next to her purse.
Lizzy turned her head toward the balcony window. It was still dark out, and the curtains seemed ominous, billowing in the shadows. But one of the lamps on the nightstands had been left on, and she squinted against its glow. And then she froze.
Will Darcy was sleeping on the other side of the bed, on top of the duvet. His dress shirt was wrinkled, and his tie gone. Lizzy's shoulders slumped when she remembered that he had taken her back to the hotel. That was so… nice.
She cupped her hands against her forehead. She had the sudden, overwhelming impulse to kick him so he rolled out of bed. A couple of punches would probably suffice, too. Jane. Jane! He had hurt Jane so much! He was an asshole! He…
… had stayed with her the entire night to make sure she was okay. Lizzy snuck a glance at him. Darcy slept on his back, with one arm draped across his face. She couldn't imagine why he had left the light on, until she figured that he had probably never intended to fall asleep in the first place. The remote control rested on the bedspread between them both. She sighed irritably.
Lizzy reached across the bedside table for her cell phone. Then she put it down. Then she flopped back down on her pillow. And then she sat right back up.
I'm going to kick him!
It's 4:27 a.m. You're not going to kick anyone.
I hate him.
He stayed with you to make sure you didn't asphyxiate in your own vomit.
“Oh, that's a gorgeous visual,” she mumbled, trailing her fingers through the knots in her hair. Darcy stirred. Lizzy lied back down slowly — she couldn't resist looking at him again.
She saw most of his profile now, excepting his eyes. The straight nose, his mouth, his jawline, his Adam's apple, the curve of his neck. His chest rose and fell slowly — essentially the only indication that he was sleeping. Occasionally, his right foot would twitch. Elizabeth's mouth quirked up in a smile, before she stopped herself.
Fuck it. One more hour of sleep, two Advils — and then I will sort this out.
Sitting up once again, Lizzy sighed, and reached over him to turn off the light. Her torso twisted awkwardly above his, and she bit her lip. Her fingers just barely grazed the switch under the lampshade, and she craned her neck even further. “Damn.”
Darcy stirred again, and his arm moved. Elizabeth stopped moving, with her arm oddly suspended in the air. Will blinked up at her groggily, and his voice was thick with sleep. “Hey.”
“Hi.” She felt her cheeks grow hot, and momentarily wondered how red she was. “I was just… you left the light on.”
“Oh,” Darcy murmured. “'Kay.”
“Yeah,” Lizzy whispered.
They would analyze what happened next for days — because neither of them seemed to move. Elizabeth stared down at him with her hand finally lingering on the light switch. Darcy looked up at her in complete silence — and then, wordlessly, he propped himself up on his elbow and kissed her.
She forgot to breathe.
The kiss was unexpected. His mouth was soft against hers, and his thumb swept over the plane of her cheekbone.
Elizabeth couldn't think straight. She felt Darcy's fingers thread through her hair. His other hand slipped under the hem of her dress, warm against her bare skin. Tense before, Lizzy slowly melted into him now. Her arm dropped from the lamp. She gripped the fabric of his shirt in fistfuls, leaning close to kiss him back.
It escalated into something more intense — they shifted so that Elizabeth was on her back, her arms around his neck. Darcy hovered above her for a moment, uncertain. Then he bent low and kissed her again. Lizzy felt a wave of heat spread through her limbs, and wondered if he could hear her heart beating erratically against her ribcage. She wondered why she was suddenly self-conscious about that, of all things. She ran her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, her lips linked heatedly with his.
It suddenly occurred to her to push him off.
But then Darcy kissed her again — and his touch, and the smell of him — coherent thoughts had ceased to form in her brain. She just knew that he tasted faintly like champagne, and smelled wonderful — and his hand was on her bra clasp. His lips moved across her jaw, her neck, the base of her throat. Fingers clung to shirts and tangled through hair with a kind of pent-up desperation. Lizzy could hear the blood pounding in her ears.
His shirt came off, and she traced her hands over the lean muscles of his arms, her breath hitching. They shifted over, then, mid-kiss, and her elbow pressed against something cold and solid.
She only realized it was the remote when the blaring noises of an infomercial filled the room — some woman was selling little antique teacups on QVC.
That did it.
They both froze, their faces inches apart. Then everything was awful. Completely, utterly, painfully awful.
“Shit.”
It was him who swore. Lizzy pushed away, and scooted back into the headboard. She hugged her knees against her chest, tried to catch her breath.
Darcy looked disoriented. His hair was unkempt and ruffled now. His shirt was also missing. Had she done that? Of course I did that. I was all over that.
“Oh, no.” Elizabeth buried her face in her hands. Mistake. Big mistake. She found that she couldn't even look at him, and instead took the remote and turned the TV off. It was uncomfortably quiet again.
“I…” Darcy faltered. He said nothing more. Silently, Darcy collected his shirt from the floor and slipped it back on, clumsily doing the buttons. Then he sat down on the edge of the mattress. Lizzy stared at him — he stared back. The air between them was charged and static. And the lamp on the nightstand still flickered on.
Panicked, Elizabeth leaped off the bed and got her purse from the bureau.
Will caught his breath in alarm. “Wait. Wait!” He got up quickly, and stopped her, taking her hand in his. “Don't go,” he said. “We should talk. I know… well, actually I don't know… that was really fast —— I'm sorry. I didn't expect that to happen. I wasn't—” Darcy closed his mouth. His blue eyes searched hers imploringly.
Elizabeth blinked furiously, fighting back tears. Her breath came in shallow bursts, and she wouldn't look at him. She had never felt more confused in her entire life. He was still holding her hand.
“Lizzy,” Darcy said, softly.
She stared up at him. He had never called her Lizzy before. He was looking at her intently now, his mouth slightly open and vulnerable. He looked boyish — he looked as lost as she felt.
“I have to go,” Elizabeth said, shakily, sidestepping him.
“I want to be with you,” Darcy suddenly admitted.
Lizzy froze. She turned around very slowly. “Beg your pardon?”
“You're so… I've never met anybody like you, Elizabeth. It scares me half to death, to be honest. But I've liked you since we met. I mean—” His voice grew quiet. “—of course I like you.”
She frowned, speechless.
“Trust me, it's not exactly an ideal situation,” Darcy mumbled, hastily, misinterpreting he
r expression. He ran his hand through his hair, and sighed. “It's definitely not rational. You're not my type. I'm not even sure I have a type, but you're just… —— Your parents are kind of absurd, too. Well, your mother is. But I don't care about that stuff right now.” His eyes met hers for a brief moment — the bluest blue she had ever seen. “I can't stop thinking about you. I want to be with you… I…”
He looked too anxious to finish his sentence. Several different emotions flitted across Elizabeth Bennet's face now. Her cheeks were tinged pink, and her mouth gaped open, like the mouth of a fish might. “What? Wait… what?”
Darcy frowned at her. “Which part needs repeating?”
She looked up at Will Darcy, incredulous. “How can you—” Lizzy started, then abruptly stopped. She laughed, and shook her head. “I'm sorry — give me a minute here.”
Darcy watched her quietly.
A full minute passed before she spoke up, inhaling deeply beforehand to calm herself down. “Okay. Let's do this. Number one — thank you for the compliment… I guess. It's nice to know you're attracted to me despite that I'm not ideal, and that my family is unsuitable, or some other bullshit like that.” Her mouth twisted into an ironic smile. “I'm flattered.”
Darcy's expression changed. “Hold on—”
“Number two.” Lizzy wiggled two fingers in his face. “I respectfully refuse your offer.” Her voice grew soft, and she hugged her arms close to her body. “I have no interest in being with you. —— I'm sorry that you assumed I would. And I'm sorry if I'm hurting your feelings right now — I had no intention of doing so.”
Darcy gauged her reaction suspiciously, puzzled more than anything else. He cleared his throat. “Do you have a reason behind—?”
“I have several. I just don't feel like arguing with you, all right?” Lizzy said sharply. “That is an uphill battle I'm just not prepared to deal with. For God's sake, it's nearly five in the morning. But don't worry — I'm sure the objections you have against me will make me easy to get over… you'll move on soon enough.”
Will smiled for the barest of moments, but it disappeared quickly. “Wait. —— Wait, you're serious.”