“No, no, I’m just being grumpy. I’m a bit knackered from my time in the pool.”
“It’s a beautiful day for a swim.”
He looked down his nose at her. “It’s an indoor pool, dear.”
“Oh.” Her cheeks warmed.
He pushed the newspaper aside and straightened in his chair as if preparing for a standoff. “I suppose your statement is still correct, though.” He adjusted some pieces on the board that didn’t need adjusting. “I shouldn’t complain, because it’s like bloody resort here with all they have me doing.”
She leaned forward in her chair noting his face told a different story than his words. “But you’re not at a resort, and I’m sure it’s frustrating that you’re doing it because you need to and not because you want to.”
His hand hovered over a piece, signaling the start of the game. “Yes, well, I’m still my own man, and I don’t have to do any damn thing I don’t want to.” His index finger touched the tip of one of his pawns.
“Of course,” she said, holding back a smile.
“I ran one of the largest finance firms in the country.” He moved his pawn into place.
“That’s quite an accomplishment.”
“Now I spend my days gardening or trying to think of a six letter word for bullfighter’s cape.” He sat back and folded his arms.
“Capote...er...that’s not a bad life,” she said flatly and then stared right back.
“Well?”
“Well, what?”
“It’s your turn.”
“I do not recall ever telling you I knew how to play chess, let alone accepting an invitation to play.” She delivered the observation more out of curiosity and playfulness, but a part of her questioned why men had presumed so much of her lately.
“I see.” He looked from side to side. His gaze passed across a wiry woman having a disagreement with her computer. A man in a jogging suit sat wearing headphones in a chair. Two women sat at a table doing paperwork. “My options at the moment are a tad limited.”
Elizabeth left him to struggle a moment longer. “Is that why you requested me?”
He gave one slow nod. “On the contrary, Elizabeth. I found you to be a most intriguing and thoughtful woman and frankly, I enjoyed your company.” He paused a beat. “And, I hoped you felt the same, but since it seems I’ve been mistaken...” He pushed his chair back with a grim expression.
Surprise and a hint of panic settled over her. But Deborah Searls’s reaction wasn’t her only concern. She did take to the old man, and now her heart sank at hurting his feelings. “Wait.” He may have been in the early stages of declining mental fortitude, but he appeared to be sharp as a tack in her presence. “You’re absolutely right.”
He scooted his chair back in; the corner of his mouth twitched upward. “Do tell.”
She paused and his smile grew, leaving Elizabeth almost questioning his motives. Instead she took the opportunity to get to know this feisty man better. No matter the circumstances, interaction with him was a positive experience both professionally and personally. And in the process, maybe he’d reveal something interesting about Granville. “I enjoyed our chat as well, Claude. And I’d be honored to be your friend.”
“So that means you’ll be accepting the dinner invitation my grandson mentioned to you.”
He didn’t waste any time—a clear resemblance to his grandson. “Dinner? I, um...” She could see his brightened expression wavering back to where she didn’t want it going. She couldn’t disappoint him after she’d just won him back over. “That’s kind of you. Thank you.”
“We’ll be in touch with a date.”
“I’m sure it will be delightful. You two are quite a pair. I enjoyed your amusing little prank on him the other day.”
He chuckled. “That was cheeky wasn’t it? That boy can be too serious for his own good sometimes.” Claude seemed to watch her expression.
“It’s too bad more of your personality hasn’t rubbed off on him.”
He lowered his head and looked down his nose at her as if she’d revealed something she hadn’t meant to. “Don’t you worry; I’m getting through to him.”
“Oh, I’m not worried at all,” she said, reaching for her pawn. “But maybe you should.” She moved her piece in to place.
A victorious smile took hold of his face. “So you do play.”
She let her expression answer the question and waited for his next move. They played without talking for a few comfortable minutes. Then Claude said something surprising. “So tell me how things are going with your Mr. Darcy.”
“Hmm. Are you trying to distract me from my strategies?”
“Not at all. Simply getting to know my opponent and new friend.” With that last word he delivered a quick wink.
She giggled like a little girl whose nose had just been stolen from her grandfather. “Well, sir. My Mr. Darcy is quite well.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
An obviously ridiculous thought popped into her head thinking about Claude’s motives. Granville could not be so manipulative to get this sweet old man to do his bidding. She pretended to be mesmerized by the decision of her next move.
“All right,” he said, concession in his tone. “If you do not wish for me to know, I understand.”
She was beginning to believe Claude worked in the psychology department practicing his reverse techniques. She leaned back and fixed a stony stare on him. “Mr. Darcy is the most charming, wonderful, generous man I’ve ever encountered. Does that information suit you well?”
“I believe it matters less whether it suits me and more how you feel about it.”
She took a quick glance at the board before deciding whether to play or see where this was heading. “What are you driving at, Mr. Ackerman? Are you saying it’s not true?”
“Oh, so formal. Seems I’ve hit a tender spot. I—”
He must have seen the hot glare coming from her eyes. When he stopped abruptly, she pulled back, removing any trace of hostility or defensiveness that might be reported back to Granville. She attempted to appear interested in her next move. This regular meeting was off to a rocky start.
A beat later he spoke up. “Please pardon me, Elizabeth, for being so forward. I never had a granddaughter and well...for some reason I feel compelled to, let’s just say, watch out for you.”
A breathy laugh expelled from her nose, and she instantly realized how that might come across. “Sorry, I’m not laughing at you. It’s very sweet, Claude.” She reached over and touched his hand. “Thank you.”
“So what’s got you snorting?” he asked as she pushed her Rook toward him.
“Uh, considering who your grandson is, I do not think you have to worry about my well-being with William Darcy. He’s a proper gentleman and very honorable.”
His already wrinkled forehead creased further, and he turned his eyes away. “Wonderful. It’s still your turn.”
Not willing to let his abrupt halt of the conversation pass, she pressed him for elaboration. His hesitance only fueled her want for answers, and she cared not how that appeared. Claude asked if she was aware he and William had once done business together—or rather almost done business—and told her he found it curious she spoke as if she found Granville and William to be very different men.
“I do not think you know William well enough for an observation like that.”
“I could say the same thing about you and Granville,” he said moving his Knight.
Unsure of how to respond, she turned her attention to the board. He had her on the run in the chess match and the conversation. She made the only move she saw available. Considering that a woman who had faith in her man would have no need to defend him, she put the burden on Claude. “Tell me, do you have something against my fiancé? What exactly happened between his company and yours?”
“I won’t bore you with the details, but your man wasn’t always shining in the high ethical spotlight you see him in now.”
He began by relaying the same details William had shared. That he and Claude had been working on a land development deal. He couldn’t recall the specific industry involved but some sort of manufacturing plants had been slated for the property. Relief from his confirmation and subsequent boring business details quickly turned to anxious confusion when he spoke of the location of the land in question—adjacent to a large family community with schools and parks—and William’s lack of any concern for the consequences of that deal going through.
“Maybe you’re mistaken, Claude. If you don’t remember the industry maybe you don’t remember William’s motivation or actions.”
“I wish that were true, my dear Elizabeth.” He gazed at her as if she were a naïve young child. “I do recall wanting that deal to go through. I even remember taking to your William. He seemed to be more of what I hoped for Granville. But when Granville told me what William—”
She held up a firm palm. “Wait right there. Granville told you?” Now the story made sense. William wanted children of his own, he gave to charity, he was an honorable and caring man. Granville could have easily put doubts in his grandfather’s mind.
“I know what you’re thinking, and I wouldn’t put it past Granville. But no, William so much as admitted knowing the community would be unhappy about the deal.”
She shook her head in dismay. What else had she been so unaware of? She fought to keep the faith in her love and pray there was some sort of explanation. And if there were none, she knew he wasn’t that kind of man now.
“Ask the man and see what he says. It was an extremely lucrative deal and on top of that, William—”
“Please!” She said in a desperate whisper, glancing around to see if anyone noticed. A woman in a red business suit caught her eye and then pointed to her wrist though she wasn’t wearing a watch. She looked back at Claude. “I’m sorry, it appears my time with you is up.”
His face fell in disappointment, maybe guilt as well. “I’m sorry things ended on such a sour note.” He watched her stand, smooth down the front of her pants. “I don’t suppose you’ll want to return.”
She looked down on him, met with a pair of light blue eyes so similar to Granville’s but surrounded by pale, creased skin. The evident plea took hold of her heart. Claude was not to blame for the news she’d just heard. “Of course I will,” she said with a soft grin. “Now you take care of yourself until I see you next, all right?”
He nodded and patted her hand as she stepped away. The woman introduced herself as Monica Edwards and told Elizabeth she should sign in and out each time she was there. Her attention was distracted from Monica who spoke about general rules and something about not working with anyone else even if they ask for something. She nodded her agreement and watched Claude clear the chessboard, a pang of guilt biting at her gut. After Monica excused her, she headed back to her new friend on the premise of a last farewell.
She touched his shoulder, but he didn’t turn around. “I’m heading back to the trenches, muffin,” she said, playfully. When he still didn’t respond she took a step into his view, concerned he was upset with her. “Claude?”
“There you are. Finally.”
“Pardon?”
“Sorry, I shouldn’t complain. I’ve just been waiting for quite some time.”
What was he up to this time the old prankster? “I’m not falling for that, Claude.”
“For what? What do you mean?” His brows knitted together. “Are we playing or not?”
Elizabeth’s eyes skirted helplessly around. When they connected with Monica’s, awareness came quickly, and the woman walked toward them.
Her pulse quickened; making a mistake in this situation would not just be detrimental to her work but to this poor man as well. She genuinely cared about his well-being. “Claude, I...”
“If you have other commitments we can try for another time.”
“Mr. Ackerman, Elizabeth has to return to her other responsibilities now.”
Elizabeth didn’t know what else to say. “I’m sorry, Claude. We’ll talk later, all right?” She managed some sort of a smile which he returned along with confusion in his eyes.
Once she made it out of the room, a sadness fell over her and stayed through the rest of her shift.
Chapter 11
Lunch with Mary to discuss details for the wedding turned into lunch with her mother and Georgina as well. It was only the beginning, so she needed to find a way to accept the inevitable. Their fearsome foursome had a lot of work ahead of them. She probably would have been grateful for the help had she not been distraught over her encounter with Claude and the things he’d said about William. The whole drive over from the hospital her mind flip-flopped from believing Claude to chalking his story up to his failing memory.
“Lizzy, what on earth are you staring at?”’
Her mother touched her arm, making her aware of her rudeness. Menus and waters had been placed in front of them at some point without her noticing; she grabbed for her glass. “Nothing, I...was just thinking about William’s tuxedo.”
“Goodness,” Mrs. Bennet said, looking at a notebook in her lap. “That’s so far down the list. Besides, let William worry about what he’ll wear.”
All three women snapped heads in her direction. Elizabeth tried her best to ignore the obvious lack of acceptance from her mother since their engagement, but there were times—like right then—when the tone in her voice sliced through her. Even Georgina fixed a glare on the woman in defense of her brother. “I can help William if he needs it,” she said. “I’ve got fabulous taste.”
Elizabeth refrained from commenting; Mrs. Bennet turned from the penetrating gazes. “I’m simply famished...and I need a drink.” She waved her hand in the air. “Waiter...here, please.”
“William and I have already discussed possible attire for him and his groomsmen,” Elizabeth said to no one in particular.
The waiter finished speaking with another table he was at and walked toward them.
“We’re ready to order drinks,” Mrs. Bennet said, tersely.
Maybe it was Elizabeth’s sympathetic eyes, but somehow the waiter settled his gaze on her. “You made that pretty clear,” he said under his breath.
“Pardon?” Mrs. Bennet said with a disgruntled harrumph.
Elizabeth set her palm on her mother’s forearm and apologized to the waiter with her eyes. “Thank you, Jonathon,” she said squinting at his name tag. “I’ll have a raspberry tea, please.”
Once the waiter took the other drink orders and walked away, Elizabeth noticed her mother pouting. “Let’s have a look at the list mother,” she said, trying to distract her.
Mary had been quiet, but when Mrs. Bennet lifted the notebook from her lap, Mary snatched it from her fingers. “Thank you, mother. As the maid of honor, I believe I shall take charge now.”
Obviously Mary hadn’t seen her mother’s already sour expression or maybe she didn’t care. Even so, Elizabeth snickered and felt a refreshing burst of energy.
“Well,” Mrs. Bennet said, looking around the table. “I’m most unpopular today.” She plunged into her purse and pulled out a compact, checking herself in the mirror as if the cause were a smudge on her face.
“Oh, please, Mother,” Mary said. “You were rude to that waiter.” Without taking her eyes from the list she continued. “And this is not about you. This is Elizabeth’s wedding, and I’m her maid of honor.”
Elizabeth wondered if the title had gone to Mary’s head or maybe the sudden attention from a man gave her a new found confidence. They’d spoken the night before about Patrick. Mary had said he sent her a letter in the mail. She’d been so excited to receive “an actual physical correspondence.” The two had talked about the things they had in common including tastes in classical music and
literature. Patrick shared his love of stamps. Apparently, he had quite an extensive collection. As happy as Mary had sounded about her new friend, she still fretted about the state of the relationship which lacked any romantic elements thus far.
Food arrived in a timely manner. Georgina, who was as thin as a rail ordered a steak and potatoes. Elizabeth hadn’t realized until the orders came and the other three had soup and sandwiches set in front of them. The women ate and talked, first about urgent items like invitations and the venue. With convincing from Georgina, William, and ultimately her mother, Elizabeth had agreed to have the reception at the country club. That was a hard pill for Mrs. Bennet to swallow; Elizabeth knew well that her father had coaxed her mother’s support of the idea. The Bennet’s declining financial situation would not allow for a proper Darcy wedding. But in Elizabeth’s eyes, the day was not nearly as important as the meaning behind it.
The women continued to talk with and over each other as they ate. At times, Elizabeth sat back and watched, taking in a deep breath and reminding herself these people were her family. When the topic of the guest list and seating came up, Georgina perked up.
“Can we make room for an extra seat at the head table?”
“Why do you ask?” Elizabeth said.
“Well...” Georgina’s expression turned rosy with all the eyes on her. “I’m hoping to have a date.”
“Your old boyfriend?” Mrs. Bennet said.
“Granville Ackerman.”
“Granville?” Elizabeth surprised herself at questioning Georgina about him.
“Are you two an...item?” Mrs. Bennet asked.
Elizabeth noted her mother’s demeanor was unexpectedly concerned given she typically lived to pry into other’s lives and discover a juicy bit of gossip.
“Not yet,” Georgina said. “But I find him utterly irresistible. Though he hasn’t shown much interest in me...which is surprising.”
Mary rolled her eyes while Georgina continued.
“Really I should take offense at how he brushed me off at your dinner. But who can ignore such an eligible bachelor?”
A Rival for Mr. Darcy Page 9