Chapter 22 #2
The older woman waved her hand in the air. “Oh, he adores you, Elizabeth. He’s never had any reason to show his feelings before. It’s so nice to see him happy.” She took a bite of a lemon cookie and fell quiet.
Blushing, Elizabeth sipped her tea. She’s been with his family since he was five. She is as close to a maternal figure as he has. “Thank you. He makes me extraordinarily happy. He’s a wonderful man.”
She ventured further. “I’m working on something for his birthday next week. Would you be able to help?”
Elizabeth stifled a smile. Thank God for women of strong mind and sharp tongue. Caroline Bingley had the latter but lacked the former, allowing Elizabeth the great pleasure of watching Charlotte mop the Italian marble floor with the redhead’s decided opinions on everything.
“Girls, I know Jane doesn’t want to go big with her bachelorette party like Charles is with his blowout, but we need more than a giant slumber party with pillow fights and karaoke.
” Caroline eyed the two women on the couch across from her.
“Can’t these two find some middle ground?
I mean, why is Charles celebrating in New Orleans?
It’s such a terrible, smelly place. They’re likely to end up in jail with some swamp people. It’s so debauched there.”
“It’s New Orleans!” Charlotte replied. “It’s a great place to celebrate anything. And eat anything.”
Elizabeth shifted on the couch. It was too deep, too firm, and too bright. Canary yellow? Obviously, all of the comfortable, lived-in furniture had gone with Charles to the new place. Or gone into a dumpster. She sighed. “Caroline, Jane wants what she wants.”
“But Jane’s party is so…simple.”
“So what you’re saying is that Jane Bennet, late of Queens and New Jersey, is simple?” Charlotte, one eyebrow raised, snapped a rice cookie in half.
Caroline laughed, her denial a touch too forced. “Of course not. I would just think that for her last hurrah—”
“My sister is more excited to start her life with Charles than to party hearty, Caroline.” Elizabeth shifted again on the couch. “She’s a touch more dignified than that.”
“Apparently my brother isn’t. Who knows what they’ll be up to? Wrestling alligators?”
“Boys will be boys,” Charlotte replied. “And I could use some alligator skin boots.”
Elizabeth elbowed her. “Not to worry, Caroline. Herb has made some grand plans for their weekend, and Will can rein them in.”
“Who?”
“Whom.”
“What?”
“Whom, not who,” Charlotte said, eyebrows raised and a prim smile on her face. “Proper grammar is key to one’s character and professional success.”
Caroline leaned forward and set down her lemon water. “Perhaps the New Jersey school system has to teach remedial grammar and English to its students, but the private schools here focus on Latin roots.”
“Private school in Manhattan? I thought you all grew up in Larchmont.”
Caroline cleared her throat. “Whom is this Will person whom, er, who, is going to rein in the fun? I thought only eight of them were going.”
Elizabeth steeled herself. Clearly, Caroline had not been made aware of the new order of things. Before she could respond, Charlotte spoke up. Since when did she become my interpreter and a very bad grammarian?
“Fitzwilliam Darcy. Elizabeth calls him Will.”
Caroline’s eyes narrowed. “Why on earth would you—?” Her eyes flickered over to Elizabeth, who had crossed her legs and smiled sweetly.
Elizabeth decided to be the bigger person and move on so she could get out of the Lexington Avenue lair. “We’re dating, and Fitzwilliam has too many syllables for a Jersey girl like me. Now, let’s talk strippers. Yes or no?”
“Hello, love.”
“Hi, sweetheart. Enjoying a Sunday in the park in…wait, where are you?”
“Berlin. Back to London first thing tomorrow, a quick meeting or two, and then home to you.”
“I can’t wait.”
“I can’t wait more.”
“What? I didn’t hear you.”
“Elizabeth?”
“Shoot, we have a bad connection. Let me go outside.”
Darcy lay back on the rock-hard mattress and stared at the ceiling.
He had no idea what had possessed Sara to book him into such a brutally austere hotel, but at least his two nights there had finally provided him some dream-free sleep.
Or perhaps exhaustion had simply set in.
He certainly hadn’t enjoyed long stretches of REM sleep for the past month when he’d had Elizabeth beside him in bed, tempting and tickling and teasing him in the wee hours. Not that he’d prefer sleep.
Suddenly he heard muffled voices. Where is she? “Elizabeth?”
“Hi, I’m here. Outside in the fall gloom. Are you in bed?”
She sounded breathless, which he thought was rather sexy. When she asked him the second question, he realized the stark furnishings around him would not stifle the stirrings he was beginning to feel.
“Yes. On my bed of nails for the last night. Where are you? Who were you talking to?”
“Oh, I’m, um, in Queens. At the house. The backyard, technically.”
Darcy sat up. “Is everything all right?”
“Yes, fine. Just taking a breather from the dust. I just…I’m cleaning out some things. Packing up some bedroom stuff for Jane and me.”
“Ah. Bedroom stuff.” He lay back down. “Are you stripping it bare? I’ll never get to see your childhood bedroom?”
She smiled. “Not bare. The stars will stick to the ceiling until the house falls down. And Mia Hamm is staying put. I’m just getting some books and our memory boxes and bagging up old clothes.”
“Memory boxes?” He’d still not seen a photo of Elizabeth as a child, and he often wondered what she had looked like as a tough but adorable little girl. Since their conversation last week, he’d spent far too much time thinking about the children they might have someday.
“Well, I thought you might want to see proof of that spelling bee medal, and I still have my rap princess leg warmers. And…” she added in a low voice, “I found my favorite bikini. Lydia had it.”
“God, Elizabeth. You’re talking dirty to me, and I’m four thousand miles away?”
“Oh, sorry. I’ll stop. The NSA might be listening. And it’s definitely not bikini weather here anyway.”
“How you make me suffer,” he groaned. “There’s still another”—he looked at the stainless steel clock hammered to the wall—“thirty-seven hours till I see you again.”
“I know.”
“And thirty-seven and a half hours until I have all your clothes off.”
“Will…”
“I’ll show you mine if you’ll show me yours.”
Elizabeth started giggling. “Shhh, you are so bad.”
“Lizzy, are you staying for dinner?”
Elizabeth froze. She put her hand over the phone and turned her head. Ted Bennet stood looking down at her, a roll of packing tape in his hand. “Um, no, Dad. I’m going over to Aunt Maddie’s for chili before I head back and clean up some things for Jane’s party. Next weekend will be crazy.”
“Hmm.” He stared at her, his eyes falling to the phone she clutched. “Will the person you’re talking to on the phone be involved in said craziness?”
“What?”
“Charlotte. I assume that’s who you’re talking to.”
Elizabeth let out a breath. So much for privacy hiding in the backyard. “Charlotte is the self-proclaimed leader of bachelorette insanity.”
“Good. Someone has to protect our Jane from Charles’ sisters. The skinny one has a touch of Medea in her.”
After eliciting a smile from his daughter, Ted mumbled, “You know, Lizzy. Perhaps I should go with you to the Gardiners’. Maybe then you’ll fill me in on the state of your life.”
He turned and wandered to the garage. She lifted the phone back to her ear. “Will?” she whispered. “Are you there?”
“Yes.” His voice was quiet and sounded the full four thousand miles away. “Everything all right?”
“Yes. It was just my father.”
“Wondering who you were talking to while sitting outside on a gloomy afternoon?”
She could hear the edge in his voice. Dammit.
“He assumed it was Charlotte. Will…”
“Elizabeth, don’t. I know you have your reasons for not saying anything to your parents about me. I just… Are you sure you want to wait until the rehearsal dinner?”
“I don’t know. I know it’s stupid. I hate that it bothers you. The only thing I’m sure of is you.”
Darcy sighed. “That’s all that matters then.”
Joe and Maddie Gardiner were thrilled to hear the news about their favorite niece’s love life.
Elizabeth kept the details simple, telling them that the spark lit in May had finally caught fire in August, and she and Darcy were very, very happy together.
She confessed to meeting his family, and tried to ignore the look that passed between her aunt and uncle when she confided they were keeping their relationship low-key for now.
“Barbara and your father need to know before Sylvia arrives,” Maddie said. “You need them to know.”
Elizabeth swallowed a spoonful of chili, using the time to think on her response.
“I know. Mary was at the book launch, and Jane asked her not to say anything. I’ll tell Lydia at the bachelorette party.
” She felt her aunt’s eyes on her. “I don’t feel like making a grand announcement and debating my father about my choices in dating a Cambridge man who owns a bunch of houses on two continents but doesn’t read Plato in the original Greek.
He can figure it out when he sees us together. ”
The entire drive back to her apartment, Elizabeth berated herself.
She was being unfair to Darcy. She’d avoided her family, keeping her happiness a secret while even Mary had noticed her sister’s glow.
Darcy’s family knew. His secretary and housekeeper knew.
A few friends and business colleagues knew.
She wasn’t ashamed of her boyfriend in any way, but she was ashamed of herself.
Darcy was fearless. He’d introduced her to his family, he’d visited her office, he’d slept in her small bedroom—and he had the bruises and aching back to show for it.