Chapter 8 #2
The book was delayed. She’d spent months tracking down athletes and setting up photo shoots and interviews and then buddying up with them to get them to talk to her, and she wanted her work out there on coffee tables and bookshelves.
But it wouldn’t happen for a few more months as there had been a postponement on the publishing date.
Instead, last week’s scandalous pop-star romance and the death of an acting icon had led to a quickie tell-all and the reissue and update of a well-received biography.
All of her hard work to finish before her May deadline didn’t matter.
Until there were pages to proof, there was nothing more she could do.
All the interviews, all the writing, all the patient hand-holding during photo shoots, and all the squiring around New York were finished.
Wrapped up. Finito. She was back at her desk at Philips/Hill, writing press releases and setting up events.
And trying to focus on her own personal writing project.
As if introspection was what she needed right now.
As if she could throw herself into anything and forget the past few days.
Bored and searching for distraction, Elizabeth stared at her computer.
She quickly discovered that it was best to avoid all those links to cute cat videos and stories about unlikely animal friendships.
Her emotions were too raw, and she was too susceptible to heartwarming moments and horrible tragedy.
For reasons she chose to ignore, her eyes were a little too watery all day.
Nothing exciting happened until Tuesday when she joined Jane at the Bingley family apartment for dinner.
Elizabeth didn’t need to ask whether Darcy would join them; Jane, watching her sister closely, commented on Charles’s annoyance that his best friend was too busy to return a phone call. Elizabeth wondered what she knew.
The apartment was, she discovered, a beautiful place on Lexington Avenue.
Charles and his sisters had grown up in the spacious co-op, and with their father dead and their mother a year-round resident of Palm Springs, all three siblings retained a stubborn grip on the pricey property.
Louisa had married and moved to Park Slope with Herb, but she held onto her old bedroom and continuously dropped hints about the fortune they could make for their mother by selling the family homestead.
Charles and Caroline remained wary co-inhabitants, both refusing to cede possession of the prestigious address.
Elizabeth had the distinct impression that Jane’s near-residency in Charles’s bedroom at night—and in the kitchen in the morning—was not sitting well with his sister.
Jane was a morning person who insisted Charles start his day with spinach-kale smoothies instead of the salted caramel mochas he’d always favored.
Caroline had not been amused when her brother ceased his daily trip to Starbucks.
Losing her regular delivery of a “skinny light latte with an extra squirt” had permanently soured her morning mood.
With a long business trip to the West Coast looming, Charles was eager for an excursion to the country and suggested they all head to Netherfield for the weekend. “Want to bring a friend, Elizabeth?” he asked, winking. “I could ask Bill Collins so Herb and I aren’t outnumbered by you girls.”
Jane swatted him. “Charles! That man was disgusting.”
“Aw, he’s a good guy. Just needs a little TLC. But not from a Bennet girl. I cede your point.”
Caroline sat up quickly from her spot lounging on the couch. “What about Darcy? Isn’t he coming? I’ve hardly seen him lately.”
Charles shot his sister a look and then rolled his eyes. “You saw him Saturday at the Seaport when he was nice enough to escort you there.” Elizabeth caught him glancing at her and wished she could fly away into the warm spring air.
“Sorry, Liz, I know Bill is a trial. Brilliant programmer, but he’s been lost since his girlfriend dumped him at Comic-Con. She met a guy even more fluent in Klingon than she is.”
Jane and Elizabeth both smiled. Caroline gasped in horror. “Ugh, people at trade shows. What about Darcy?”
Stop asking about him! Elizabeth wanted to scream.
“Hey, I’ll be at a trade show next week, Caroline. It’s called business. Working. You should try it some time.” Charles walked over to the terrace doors and pushed them open. “I’m going to turn on the grill.” He gestured at the shiny mammoth appliance on the patio.
I bet that cost more than my car. Elizabeth rose to follow him. And it’s nearly as big.
“Charles, answer me,” Caroline called out.
“Darcy doesn’t do trade shows,” Charles replied, rolling his eyes. “Besides, he can’t travel right now and leave Coco.”
“He always uses that dog as an excuse,” Caroline grumbled. “I suppose I should go see if Jane needs my help.” She pulled out her phone and sank further into the cushions.
“I still don’t understand why Darcy’s such a helicopter parent with that dog,” Elizabeth said softly to Charles. “I know Coco is old, but is it because his sister named her and she’d blame him if something happened?”
Charles paused and looked up from where he was kneeling by the grill, pulling out tongs and spatulas. “He told you his sister named her Princess Coconut?”
“Yes. Why, is that not true, or is he just embarrassed by the name?”
He stood and looked at her solemnly. “You know Coco was Georgiana’s puppy, right?”
Her name is Georgiana? Was? Elizabeth shivered. She suddenly felt very cold.
“But she’s his dog now? Because his sister…?” Elizabeth closed her eyes and gripped the railing. “His sister was in the accident with his mother, wasn’t she?” she croaked.
Bingley paused and clutched the tongs a bit more tightly. “You didn’t know,” he said flatly.
“He…he mentioned his mother’s accident and that his father died of cancer. But he never mentioned that his sister…”
Charles looked at her, then down at the grill. Glancing over at Caroline, now stretched out on the couch and chattering away on her cell, he said quietly, “I think we need to talk. Let’s go in the den.”
He grabbed a beer, poured Elizabeth some seltzer, and sat down across from her.
“I don’t want to betray any of Darcy’s confidences.
I’ve never even said anything to Jane, but I had the impression from Darcy that you two had talked at Netherfield, so I thought you knew about Georgie. ” He gave her a searching look.
Elizabeth stilled, wondering when Darcy might have enlightened her and unburdened himself of what sounded like a horribly sad story. She sipped the seltzer and shook her head. “I don’t think so.”
Charles took a breath and, staring blankly at the closed door, began speaking quietly.
“His family had a dog and a cat. They were older pets, and Georgie wanted a puppy. So for her sixth birthday—May 6, her golden birthday—she got her wish. She named her Princess Coconut, which I believe is the short version Darcy’s mother talked her into.
Darcy was a teenager and refused to call her by her full name, so everybody started calling her Coco. ”
He looked at Elizabeth. “The accident was two months later. They were backing out of a driveway after making a wrong turn, and a truck hit the car broadside.”
Charles cleared his throat and took a sip from his beer.
“The other dog died years ago. The cat, Mittens, died last autumn, the day after we all had dinner at Marciano’s.
She had a stroke that night, and Darcy had to race off to put her down.
Coco is the only one left that connects him to his family… to his sister.”
Numb, yet with a million questions racing through her mind, Elizabeth mumbled, “He survived. And the accident is how he got his scars.”
“He was driving.” Charles gave her a curious look. “How do you know about his scars?” His eyes widened. “Oh. Never mind. It’s none of my business.”
He was driving? Oh no, he was driving! He was a boy!
Charles added quietly, “He only talked to me about this one time. And he almost never mentions Georgie.”
She looked up at him, and suddenly the memories came rushing back, things Darcy had said to her as they sat in the dark room at Netherfield. Oh my God, he told me about his parents. He was driving. His mother let him drive. Oh God. The poor man.
She took a shaky breath. “My God. I’m such an idiot,” she whispered.
“Liz, are you all right?”
“Thank you for telling me, Charles. Um, can I take a rain check on dinner? I think I need to go home.”
She felt his hand on hers. “I’m sorry if I shocked you. I must have misunderstood what Darcy told me.” He continued wryly, “Jane and I shouldn’t have left you two by yourselves that night.”
“It’s fine, Charles. I mean, it’s horrible about his family. I need to go, though. I feel a headache coming on.” I need to figure out what I know.
He nodded. “Netherfield, this weekend?”
“Um, next time, okay?”
She hugged Jane, hurried home, fumbled with her keys, and nearly stumbled over the envelope lying inside on the rug. Elizabeth Bennet. Elegant handwriting on expensive paper. He’d been here. Darcy had come to her. She carried it over to the sofa, turned on a lamp, and gathered her courage.