Chapter 23 #4
“No, I’ll always be a New Yorker, give or take a bridge or two,” Elizabeth replied, taking one last moment to think out her response. “Actually, I’m staying with a friend. In Manhattan.” Hard as she tried, she couldn’t help her eyes from drifting toward Darcy’s hand, holding hers below the table.
“Really?” Ted’s voice was a bit hard.
“I thought you were at Jane’s place,” Sylvia added.
Darcy’s hand twitched. He raised his arm and laid it across the back of Elizabeth’s chair. Enough.
Sylvia’s eyes darted to Caroline and then back to Elizabeth before settling on Darcy. Ted’s were already there.
“Yes, I am at Jane’s tonight. Otherwise, I’m staying at Fitzwilliam’s.” She could feel him stiffen, and she dreaded knowing whether it was her voicing the now unfamiliar sound of his proper name or her nuanced description of their living arrangement.
“That’s so nice of you, Fitzwilliam.” Lynette smiled at the couple. “You have plenty of room over there.” She lifted her wine glass. “You two are a couple, then? I wasn’t imagining the sparks?”
Charles sighed and bit back a smile. Caroline glared at her mother and signaled to the caterer for more wine. Darcy distractedly noticed that Lydia was gazing at him with a dreamy expression on her face.
“Staying for good or staying for now?” Ted asked, looking puzzled.
“For good,” Elizabeth replied. “We’ve been seeing each other for a while.”
“Ah, a fait accompli.” Ted sighed.
Sylvia’s mouth dropped open. Her eyes darted to her daughter’s left hand. “No ring. For God’s sake, you’re doing the thing without the ring?”
Darcy’s hand tightened on Elizabeth’s shoulder.
Elizabeth leaned forward. “Seriously? I thought we were all here to celebrate Jane’s ring.”
“Well, I asked you last night about your love life and you didn’t say anything—”
Ted’s voice cut in. “The unexamined life, is it, Lizzy?” He lifted his glass and nodded sardonically at his daughter and Darcy. “To another happy couple.”
Darcy looked at Ted, then at Charles and Jane, and Herb and Louisa. He lifted his glass and smiled. “To all of us, the happy couples.” Then he turned to Elizabeth and she pulled him closer for a brief, tender kiss.
Charles, every inch the happy newlywed, sidled over to Darcy. “Think we’ll be doing this again next year for you and Lizzy?”
“This?” Darcy looked around at the vast reception room filled with wedding celebrants. “It’s a fantastic party, but not this, not unless she wants it.” He shook his head and gave Charles a meaningful look. “I’ll do whatever she wants, whenever she wants. Tomorrow preferably.”
“Fitzwilliam Darcy, man in love, is quite a sight to behold. Rather priceless in fact,” Charles said smugly. “I bet I could sell tickets. Well, maybe not to Ted.” He raised his glass and laughed. To Darcy, it sounded suspiciously like a giggle. Yes, the groom was officially giddy.
“Shut it, Charles.”
“Be nice to me; it’s my wedding day. I’m a married man, and my best friend is in love with my wife’s sister.
My wife, Darcy! I have a wife!” Charles grinned.
“And just think, you’d never have met Elizabeth if it hadn’t been for me.
” He clapped Darcy on the shoulder. “You guys have to name your firstborn after me.”
Darcy flashed back to the poker game. “Has Herb told Louisa? Have you? Was the bet enforceable?”
Charles nodded solemnly. “Yup. Their baby girl will be named Harold.”
“Are you serious or just seriously drunk?”
“Neither. I think he sent the guy a check.” Charles laughed. “Anyway, Darce, you’re my best friend. I need to ask you a huge favor.”
“It better not have to do with any of my future children.”
“Nah, Darcy spawn are safe. Here’s the thing.” Charles lowered his voice. “I cut a deal with Sylvia. She won’t sing, but only if she gets to be in the father of the bride dance. With you.”
“What? That makes no sense.”
“She makes no sense. You know what I mean. I have to dance with my mother.” Charles pleaded, “Will you do it? Please? Jane is so worried about what she might do here.”
Darcy took a deep breath. “Tell me you saved us from the Spice Girls.”
“I saved us from the Spice Girls.” Charles’s eyes darted across the room, searching for his bride. “So will you?”
“I won’t dance with anyone until I’ve danced with Elizabeth. But I’ll handle things with Sylvia.”
“But…”
“It will be fine; don’t be concerned.” Darcy grimaced then turned to the groom and patted him on the back. “However, you’ve lost all naming rights over my firstborn. And any others.”
Ten minutes later, as “Someone to Watch over Me” wound down and the bride and groom slowly pulled apart, the strains of “What a Wonderful World” drifted through the room.
Ted rose and led Jane back to the dance floor.
Charles took his mother’s hand and looked at Darcy, standing with his arms around Elizabeth.
Darcy whispered, “Give me five minutes?” Then he walked over to Sylvia.
Sylvia, eyes wide and expectant, stood quickly and took his arm. “Oh my. I’ve never danced with an Englishman.”
“I’m not here for that.” He led her to an empty table near the door.
“Charlie said you’d dance with me.” She pulled her arm out of his.
“I know. But we should have a conversation, and that’s difficult to do while dancing.”
Sylvia considered this and nodded. “Fine.” She sat down and patted the empty one next to her. He pulled the chair slightly away from hers, sat down, and crossed his legs.
“So, you really like Lizabit, don’t you?”
He nodded. “Elizabeth? Yes, very much.”
“Well, I have to say, that’s a surprise. She’s a tough one, you know, always standoffish, not like Jane.” Sylvia trailed off, watching Jane dance with Ted. “She’s always been an angry girl.”
“Perhaps her anger is grounded in events she had no control over as a child. Or nicknames she hates.”
“I’m her mother, and she treats me terribly,” Sylvia replied in a petulant voice.
“She’s your daughter, and you haven’t treated her well. You haven’t been around enough to know her.”
“And you do?” Sylvia’s voice rose. “How long have you even been dating her?”
“I’ve known Elizabeth for nearly a year.”
“Ha. Then I trump you by twenty-three years. No, wait. Her birthday is this month.”
“Her birthday is October 27. She’ll be twenty-five.”
“I know that,” she snapped. “I know all the important things about my daughters.”
“Mrs. LaRue—”
“Call me Sylvia.”
“All right,” he said tersely. “You haven’t lived within five hundred miles of your daughters since they were little girls. They grew up without you, with a stepmother who bought their school clothes and made their lunches. You weren’t there.”
“I needed to pursue my career,” she countered angrily. “They could’ve come down for the summers or toured with me. Their father could have sent them.”
Darcy looked away from her. Elizabeth had never doubted her ability to judge people until she’d met and misjudged him, but she had indeed been clear-eyed and perceptive about her mother. He’d rarely met a more self-centered human being.
“Or you could have visited them more often. You could have called. You left them. You chose your career over them. Choices are difficult, and they have consequences.”
“Oh, and I suppose your mother is perfect. Let me guess,” she said in a sarcastic twang, “she’s a brain surgeon slash socialite who bakes and paints and sings and goes to society balls and runs charities?”
Darcy’s eyes drifted over to Elizabeth talking with the Gardiners. She was laughing at something Ava was showing off in her flower girl basket.
“My mother burnt everything she baked and couldn’t sew, but she loved art and sang beautifully. And she loved her children and made us feel valued simply by spending time with us.”
“Oh,” Sylvia said dismissively. “A saint.”
“No, an angel, I think.”
Sylvia looked at him, confused.
“Here’s the gist of it, Sylvia. I love your daughter. And I hate to see her hurt and frustrated.”
“She has too much of her father in her,” Sylvia scoffed. “She’s angry, I told you.”
“With good reason, I think. She gave you her apartment to stay in for better than a week, and you complain about the location and the dull decor. You haven’t asked about her work, about her impressive professional accomplishments, but you ask about her sexuality and impugn her morality at the rehearsal dinner? ”
“That’s none of your business!”
“Elizabeth’s happiness is my business. As Jane’s is Charles’s business. We’ve both seen how affected they are by you, by your past absences, and by how you appear at your own convenience. They’re grown women who grew up without you.”
Sylvia stopped moving. “You seem rather hostile yourself, Mr. Darcy.”
“Do I?”
“I’m the mother of the bride, and no one is respecting that,” she spat.
“Yes, technically, you are the mother of the bride. A title that should be earned, not assumed. You had no problem leaving Elizabeth before the last piece of cake was served on her eighth birthday, so you haven’t a free pass to wedding cake and such here.”
Sylvia’s mouth dropped open.
“And you don’t have a free pass to your daughter’s life. I will not see Elizabeth hurt by you again. She’s not in need of a mother anymore, and she’s not in need of someone trying to take advantage of that genetic tie.”
Sylvia glared at him.
“If Elizabeth has an interest in contacting you, she will do so. Otherwise, you should go live your life and stay out of hers.”
“Aren’t you the big talker, giving me orders? Lizabit can’t do it for herself? You have no right—”
“Yes, he does, Sylvia.” While Darcy had sensed Elizabeth’s approach, Sylvia had not. She looked up, startled, at the sound of her daughter’s voice.
“I can do everything for myself. I have for a very long time.” Elizabeth cursed the shakiness in her voice.
Darcy stood and offered Elizabeth his chair. She shook her head, remaining quite still, and clasped his hand. Then she took a deep breath and gave Sylvia a grave look.