Chapter 5 #3
“Merci beaucoup, Monsieur Darcy,” Elizabeth replied.
“When in doubt of who is listening, try a different language. You’re safe in Latin, Portuguese, Russian, and all Asian and Arabic languages.
I speak decent Spanish, read a little French, and can curse in German and Italian.
” She flashed him a smile. “Queens, you know. It’s a veritable melting pot of cultures. ”
His eyes were glazed, and he was afraid his mouth was hanging open, but Darcy had enough of his wits left to realize he was going to need another drink.
“That blonde over there—who is not now and probably never was a tomboy—is looking for you.” Elizabeth sipped from her cocktail and smiled at him.
Charles laughed. “A blonde, eh? Who is that…?” He craned his neck to see around a pillar. “Yikes. Samantha? Really?” He turned back and waggled his eyebrows at the Bennet sisters. “He has a long and sordid history with that one.”
“Bingley!”
It clearly wasn’t a happy one, judging from the expression on Darcy’s face.
Jane put her hand on his arm. “Fitzwilliam, could you help me find this legendary dessert table everyone keeps talking about? I heard something about miniature baked Alaskas.” He looked down at her, this serene woman who was urging him to escape from the shit storm now swirling about him.
“Gladly. I think I saw it over there,” he said, leading her away from all things awkward.
As they moved slowly through the crowd, he thanked her for her help.
“I had no idea Elizabeth heard me say that. I didn’t mean it.
She…you and your sister are both lovely,” he said awkwardly as they arrived at the table laden with expensive chocolates and sugary treats.
“I know you didn’t. She knows too.”
“You think so?” Darcy didn’t agree. Elizabeth looked angry, insulted.
“Let’s not think about it anymore. Charles is happy he got you to come tonight. He says it isn’t easy to get you out of the house.”
“I have a hard time saying no to him.”
Jane laughed. “Me too.” She clamped her hand over her mouth. “That came out wrong.”
“No, it’s fine. He’s has always been a social fellow. He fills up his calendar, and he likes to include me.”
“Charles is like Lizzy,” she said, smiling. “Always picking up strays.”
“Sorry?”
“He doesn’t like anyone left out. And really, he only mentioned that Lizzy would be here because he didn’t want either of you coming alone to an event hosted by the Bertrams. He’s mentioned they have some issues.”
Darcy looked down at the plate Jane was filling with tiny sweets. “Elizabeth didn’t come alone.”
Jane bit into a miniature pink cupcake. Her eyes alight, she nodded. “She’s been busy with Stefan this week. I think she has something set up with somebody else—Douglas something or other—for next week.”
Wow. Another one? He felt like the breath had been knocked out of him.
After escorting Jane back to Charles, Darcy went to the bar for a club soda.
He leaned against a pillar and watched the happy couple.
Jane was kind and pretty, but her eyes never left Charles, especially if another woman came near.
His friend had always been warm and drolly amusing, but Darcy wondered whether Jane didn’t smile too much or touch Charles’s arm a bit too often.
Didn’t she think it odd that her sister had a revolving door of boyfriends or lovers or whatever they were?
Was Elizabeth this hot and cold with all of them after it ended?
Was she always as distant as she seemed with him, a man who could’ve slept with her but instead acted as a gentleman?
Did she even value anything they’d talked about?
He dropped his head and rubbed his neck with his free hand.
He was tired, and he felt as if he might be getting a head cold.
“Darcy?” said a feminine voice.
He froze. With the pounding music and conversational hum, it was difficult to discern exactly who had said his name. I’m this close to leaving, and Samantha finds me now?
“Are you okay?”
He looked to his left and saw Elizabeth staring at him. Her hand was on his arm.
“You look like you don’t feel well. Too much chocolate? Or was it the gin? Bad mix, if you ask me.” She raised her eyebrows.
“No, um, I’m fine. Maybe a little tired. Thank you, though.” His eyes swept her face, and he noticed one of her earrings was dangling at an odd angle. He gestured toward her ear. “Your earring is falling out.”
“Oh!” Elizabeth cupped one hand under her ear and checked her lobe with the other. “The backing fell off. You saw it just in time.” She took out both earrings and put them in her small black bag. “Thank you. They’re not worth much, but they have sentimental value.”
When she tilted her head, Darcy caught himself staring at her perfectly shaped ear. He’d licked that ear. Did she remember?
“It’s fortunate you were here…with me…so I could see the problem. I mean…it’s a good thing you happened by now…before it was too late.” God, is English my first language?
“Me too. I’m a lucky girl, Nurse Darcy.”
It took him a second to react. He started to tell her that they were now even, but the simultaneous arrivals of Stefan and Samantha interrupted the moment.
“Elizabeth, we should go. We have an early start tomorrow.” The blond Viking glowed.
Samantha beamed at him. “So nice to meet you, Stefan,” she purred. “Have a good flight. C’mon, Darcy. I need a nightcap.”
Darcy watched Elizabeth walk off arm in arm with Stefan. The circulation in his own arm was cut off by Samantha’s tightening grasp. She rubbed her other hand across his chest. “You always play hard to get, big guy. I’ve known you for years and barely been kissed. Perhaps this is our night.”
“Samantha…”
“Oh, come on. You have another girl at home?” She pulled his arm closer until it rubbed against her barely covered breasts.
His jaw tightened. “As a matter of fact, I do. And she probably needs her walk.” He pulled away and nodded. “Good night.”
Of course, he was with a blonde, Elizabeth fumed.
One with perfect teeth and genes that likely arrived here on the Mayflower.
Samantha Bertram—now there’s a name straight from the Social Register.
Elizabeth scrolled down the Google references to the Bertram family: old money, investment banking, polo-playing types.
Didn’t the Pilgrims eschew money and material goods, or did all the altruistic types die off during the long Massachusetts winters?
Will this February and its dreary cold never end?
Elizabeth stared at the screen. Should I Google him?
Googling Darcy would validate that he intrigued her.
She didn’t want to do it. Looking up people she didn’t know was one thing, but Elizabeth was resistant to prying into the Internet trail of people she’d met.
It was too invasive. She certainly didn’t want people forming an opinion about her based on a neglected Facebook page, dated stories about her soccer career, and whatever pictures other people had tagged her in.
Not that she’d ever Googled herself. Charlotte had, after one too many chocolate martinis. The girl was a menace.
Her fingers wavered over the keyboard. Finally, she typed in his name and clicked Enter.
The page filled with entries from the Financial Times, Wall Street Journal, London Times, New York Times, Fortune, and a LinkedIn profile.
Businesses, corporate interests and boards, philanthropies…
it was overwhelming. He was overwhelming.
She couldn’t fathom reading any of it. She was about to exit when a thumbnail photo from a tabloid caught her eye.
She clicked on it. There he was at some gala in a tux with a thin blonde beauty on his arm and another beautiful young couple beside them.
“Yup, just as I thought.” Elizabeth chewed her lip, temptation and trepidation warring inside her. There were a lot of entries here.
No, I know enough. She closed the page, shut down her laptop, and scooted deeper under the covers. Sometimes I hate being right.