Chapter 5 #2
Elizabeth, on the other hand, treaded water and avoided commitment.
As if she’d had time between college, soccer, grad school, and working to actually focus on any of the guys she’d dated.
And she didn’t have time now. No—the thing to do was to concentrate on her work and pay attention to Jane.
She could be her sister’s guardian angel and keep an eye on Charles.
It seemed as though she was always trailing in their wake anyway.
Maybe someone decent, someone she really liked and trusted, would bob up in the flotsam and jetsam.
Someone smart and interesting, for God’s sake.
No more men interested in fish, metallurgy, or arcane sports statistics.
Between the guys she met at parties and this book project on athletes and their heroes, she was tired of listening to stories about the catch that should’ve been made or the asterisk that some player should have next to his record.
She needed to talk to someone about the new Rushdie novel, why Supreme Court appointments were for life, or why mesh leggings remained an office no-no. Any subject of intelligence would do.
There she was, though, on a cold Monday night, emptying the dishwasher and listening to Charles and Jane discuss office politics.
Then he mentioned a charity benefit later that week.
“The earth is warming, Janey. And if writing a check and eating figs wrapped in bacon will help, then I’m going to plunge into those icy waters and save the baby penguins. ”
Jane giggled and murmured, “My hero.” Elizabeth had to start humming to avoid hearing any more. I need to keep my earbuds handy at all times. Soon the whispering and moaning stopped, and she heard laughter.
“Lizzy should come, too. The food will be fantastic, and that cool Swedish guy is deejaying.”
Jane walked into the kitchen and raised her eyebrows. “Thursday night at seven. The Waldorf Astoria. Be there.” She held her sister’s gaze until Elizabeth broke into a resigned smile and nodded.
“Sure. I like penguins too. But they better drink a toast to Gus. Best polar bear ever.” Elizabeth had been a frequent visitor to Central Park Zoo when the neurotic bear was a denizen there.
“Yes, I think you liked Gus better than half the guys you’ve dated.” Jane squeezed Elizabeth’s shoulder. “Not that it’s such a long list,” she added quickly in the face of her sister’s fierce glare. “Okay, I need to change. We’re going to couples yoga.”
It took a minute before Elizabeth could repress the vision of Charles and Jane in matching leotards doing synchronized poses. Her musing ended as she heard Charles speaking.
“C’mon. You’ll know everybody. It’ll be great.”
“Define ‘great.’”
Elizabeth froze when she heard Darcy’s voice. Why does Charles have his phone on speaker?
“There’ll be lots of beautiful women. Besides Jane, of course.”
“The last thing I need is to go to one of Bertram’s parties.”
“C’mon, it’s a benefit for polar bears and penguins. Glaciers. You know, climate change awareness or something.”
“I’d rather not deal with—”
“Caroline’s out of town; you’re safe. And Jane says Elizabeth will be there.”
Elizabeth suddenly realized Darcy hadn’t replied. She peeked around the corner and saw Charles posed in a downward-facing dog. Ah…the endless possibilities of hands-free phones. Is he actually practicing his positions?
“I don’t have time for your girlfriend’s tomboy sister. I’m busy.”
Tomboy sister?
“Got some blondes lined up around the corner, do you?” Charles puffed. “Geez, man, are you out of practice with the walk of shame? You used to embarrass the rest of us.”
Darcy didn’t respond.
“You need to get out more, my friend.”
Finally, there was a heavy sigh over the phone line. “Look, I’m working here. Just text me the particulars, all right?”
A full minute passed before Elizabeth realized she was still gripping a fistful of flatware. Blondes lined up? George has him pegged. She was furious. What had he said to her that night? “I don’t casually sleep around.”
She had integrity. She had never ever done the walk of shame.
The closest she’d come was that night with him at Netherfield, for reasons she still could not fathom.
So he’s king of the one-night stands, but I’m not good enough?
He tells me he doesn’t sleep around, and it turns out he does with everyone but me?
Does he check their diplomas? Or the Social Register?
Elizabeth stomped to the front door, shoved on her boots and a jacket, and headed out. She needed to stop at the ATM and go buy orange juice. And if she happened to see a familiar face at Starbucks, she wouldn’t pass up an hour talking to somebody who appreciated her.
Darcy leaned against the wall and glanced around at his fellow do-gooders, a hundred or so well-heeled, socially conscious types noshing on maki and trying to grasp the environmental consequences of global warming.
He was jaded, but even he had to admit that this crowd seemed more aware, and definitely more alarmed, about the changing environment after Hurricane Sandy had flooded the city.
Still, did they need a high-end party at the Waldorf to get them to contribute money?
But here he was as well. For what was likely the 423rd time since he’d met Charles, Darcy had given in to his friend’s wishes.
Why did he always say yes? How did Charles get him to do things he didn’t want to do?
And where the hell was Charles? It was bad enough he’d agreed to come to a fundraiser hosted by the Bertrams.
His mother had known their parents but had kept the Darcy heir far away from the Bertram girls.
He’d been a handsome boy from a young age, and his mother had noticed the way even college girls eyed her barely teenaged son.
“Look in their eyes before you say or do anything, Will,” she would say.
“There are some cold hearts in this world that could break yours, but you could break a few as well. Be careful. See what’s in their eyes. ”
One pair of heavily made-up eyes appeared especially focused on him tonight.
Her well-manicured hands weren’t shy either.
After a long week of reading contracts and playing referee at management squabbles, Darcy didn’t have the energy to fight off Samantha Bertram.
He didn’t have any interest in what she clearly had in mind either.
She’d spotted him within minutes of his arrival and had barely left his side.
He’d already excused himself twice in an hour for the men’s room, and unless he found Bingley fairly soon he’d be heading there again—or heading home.
Relief arrived when a few friends from the club drifted over and started talking about the future of the euro.
He made a small joke about Holland’s seventeenth-century economic meltdown from tulip bulb inflation and forgot about the blonde standing too close.
Then he saw Elizabeth walk in the door with some kind of blond Viking beside her. Seriously?
Samantha noticed the newcomers almost as quickly as he did. “Who is that?” she breathed into his ear. He knew she didn’t mean the dark-haired one in the short red dress and black boots. He thought Elizabeth looked stunning. He shrugged his shoulders. “No clue.”
“No clue? Really? Because she seems to recognize you, Darcy,” Samantha replied icily. Her fingernails dug into his arm.
His eyes met Elizabeth’s as she finished scanning the room.
She gazed at him and Samantha without expression, dipped her head in acknowledgment, and disappeared with her date into the throng.
Darcy pulled his arm away. “It was good to see you, Samantha. And it was nice catching up with all of you,” he said, nodding to the three men still immersed in dissecting the global economy.
He’d never seen Elizabeth in anything but jeans or sweats; she was a vision in a little red dress.
A vision in the arms of another man, apparently.
What happened to that Brian guy? Or that brute from Christmas Eve?
Was she always with somebody, flitting from relationship to relationship?
Were they always hulking athletes? Did she have co-dependency issues and simply had to have a boyfriend?
How was she so different from Jane, who seemed laser-focused on Charles? Where was she, anyway?
He finally spotted her, standing with the happy twosome by the penguin ice sculpture. Darcy set his empty glass on a passing waiter’s tray and headed toward them.
Charles saw him first. “Hey man, having fun? Did you make your pledge?” He gestured toward a giant aquarium empty of water but filled with plastic ice cubes and checks.
“I did it online.”
“Online giving: the face-saving refuge of people who forgot their checkbook—or don’t really believe in a cause.” Elizabeth smiled and bit the olive off her toothpick.
“Or those who live in the twenty-first century,” he replied. “How are you, Elizabeth?”
“I’m fine, thank you, Mr. Darcy.”
Mr. Darcy? “And your friend?”
“Who? Oh, Stefan? He ran into an old chum.”
He nodded. “Um, you look very nice.” And you’re here with a Nordic sex god. The perfect male specimen. Every woman’s dream. Maybe every man’s too.
“I clean up pretty well for a tomboy, don’t I?” She stared Darcy straight in the eye.
“You heard that?” He glared at Charles. “Your phone was on speaker? And you didn’t tell me?”
Charles shrugged. “I was doing yoga. It never occurred to me that my highborn friend would say something stupidly insulting about my girlfriend’s sister.”
Darcy sighed and hung his head. “Um, Elizabeth, just for the record, I apologize. I didn’t mean anything by it, but I was rude. It’s rather clear to me tonight that you are anything but a tomboy.”