Chapter 4
FOUR
THE BATHROOM FELT LIKE PEACE.
Darcy leaned against the counter and looked at nothing in particular. It had been a long day. The drive from Manhattan, the bags, moving into Richard and Charlotte's home, Mia's face when she opened the door. And Elizabeth.
Yes, Elizabeth and her fine careful eyes that made a room feel smaller without moving an inch in it.
She had said something at dinner. Something small and pointed, delivered in the tone she reserved for observations she considered self-evident and did not feel the need to cushion.
He had not responded. He had learned, a long time ago, that responding was rarely the thing Elizabeth Bennet was actually inviting you to do.
It had still landed.
But now he was in the bathroom, removed for a moment from responsibility, from grief, from Elizabeth and her sharp eyes and sharper words. It felt like peace.
He had been in there for seven minutes when his phone rang.
Darcy glanced toward the marble sink where he had left it.
Bingley. Of course it was Bingley.
He answered it anyway.
"Day one," Bingley said, without preamble. "How bad is it?"
Darcy looked at himself in the mirror. He had the expression of a man who had eaten dinner in careful silence across a table from someone he had complicated feelings about while a fifteen-year-old watched both of them with great interest and said very little.
"It is fine," he said.
"You are standing in a bathroom," Bingley said. "I can tell by the acoustics."
Darcy said nothing.
"Will."
"I needed a moment."
"Right." A pause followed. "How is Mia?"
Darcy exhaled slowly. "She is managing. Better than she should be, which concerns me slightly. She made a joke at dinner. A real one. And then five minutes later she went very quiet and I did not know whether to say something or leave it."
"What did you do?"
"I passed her the bread."
Silence settled again, ending only with a sigh from Bingley.
"That is actually quite good," he said.
Darcy did not respond. He sat down on the edge of the bathtub and looked at the floor. The tiles were the same black and white pattern you found in every old Brooklyn building. Richard had pointed that out the first time he brought Darcy here, years ago.
He had said. “Charlotte chose this apartment because of the floors.”
Darcy had said that was not a sensible reason to choose an apartment. To this, Richard replied and said, “no, but it is a Charlotte reason, which is better.”
"It still does not feel real," Darcy said.
Bingley was quiet.
"I keep reaching for the phone to call him.
Three, four times a day. You know, I keep thinking that I need to tell Richard this, or Richard would find this funny, or I should ask Richard what to do about Mia's school situation because he would know exactly.
And then I remember." He paused, and rubbed his tired eyes.
"I have been strong. In front of Mia, at the lawyer's office, through all of it.
But Charles — I cannot fathom it. I genuinely cannot fathom that he is gone. "
"I know," Bingley said. Quietly. Without trying to fix it.
"He was the only person who could make me laugh at myself," Darcy said.
"Do you know how rare that is? Someone who knows exactly where the gap is between who you are and who you think you are, and loves you anyway, and will not let you take yourself too seriously.
" He stopped. "I did not tell him enough times that I knew how rare it was. "
The apartment was quiet around him. The radiator in the hallway knocked once and settled.
"How is Georgiana?" Bingley asked, after a moment.
“She cried on the phone when I told her about Richard’s passing. She adored him."
"Everyone adored Richard."
“She couldn’t make it for the burial. Something about her master degree exams.”
“Well, you just don’t opt out of oxford master exams because of a burial. No matter how important.” Bingley said.
”No, you don’t.”
The two men lapsed into another silence, as though the man on the other end was giving his friend time to compose himself.
“I hope Elizabeth is all right too?” Bingley said at last.
"Yes." Darcy looked at the door. "Elizabeth has been holding everything together.
Since the beginning. The calls, the arrangements, Mia's first nights — I was travelling and she was here, handling all of it.
" He said it plainly, without drama. "She has always been like that.
Strong in a way that does not announce itself.
She just does what needs to be done and does not wait to be asked. "
"I know," Bingley said. "Jane says the same. Says Elizabeth has been keeping Mia strong too."
“She has.” Darcy was quiet for a moment. “Which means I need to be strong for both of them now. I am here. I am not travelling again. Whatever this year requires… I am here.” He exhaled slowly. “I just haven’t been a father before. I don’t know how to be whatever this needs me to be.”
"Richard trusted you," Bingley said. "That says something about your fathering skills."
"Richard committed me to something without asking me first."
"Did he?" Bingley's voice was mild. "Or did he just know what your answer would be and skipped the part where you'd spend three weeks overthinking it?"
Darcy had no response to that. It was irritatingly accurate and Bingley knew it.
"How is the other situation," Bingley said, in the careful tone he used when he was about to say something he expected pushback on.
Darcy grimaced. "The other situation?"
"Elizabeth."
"Didn’t I say she was fine earlier?"
"I didn't ask how she is. I asked how the situation is."
"The situation is also fine."
"You are in the bathroom, Will."
Darcy said nothing.
"Tell me about dinner," Bingley said.
"Dinner was uneventful."
"Did you speak?"
"We spoke about Mia's school schedule. And whether the radiator in the hallway was always that loud."
"Romantic," Bingley said.
“It is not romantic, Charles. We were discussing a radiator.” Darcy shook his head. “More to the point, I am in the house of my late cousin and his wife, raising a child I have no idea how to raise. The last thing on my mind is romance.”
“Right,” Bingley said. “And somewhere between the radiator and the school schedule… did you make eye contact?” he added, ignoring Darcy’s protest completely.
Darcy was silent for a moment too long.
“She has always made it difficult,” he said finally, “to have a conversation with her. She looks at you like she is already two steps ahead of whatever you are about to say… and has already decided it is not worth much.”
"I know," Bingley said. "Jane does the same thing. I find it completely compelling."
"We are different people, Charles."
"Evidently." Bingley giggled. "Do you hate living with her?"
"No," Darcy said. "I do not hate it."
"But?"
"There is no but."
"Will."
Darcy looked at the ceiling. "I do not hate Elizabeth.
I have never hated Elizabeth. I simply do not understand how a person can spend a month with someone.
Can have the kind of conversations that make you rearrange things in your head.
Can make you feel like you are finally being seen by someone who actually has the capacity to see you.
" He stopped. "And then send a break up text message. "
Bingley was quiet.
"Four lines," Darcy said. "Four lines and then nothing. No explanation. No conversation. Just —" He looked at the ceiling. "I have thought about those four lines more times than I am willing to admit to anyone, including you."
"You just admitted it to me."
"I am aware."
"Will." Bingley's voice was careful. "Have you ever considered that she might have had a reason? Something you don't know about?"
“I have considered it for eight years,” Darcy said. “I have not come up with anything that explains four lines and no conversation. I tried my best to get her to speak to me about it, but… nothing. She perfected the act of dodging me at first, then simply ignoring me.”
No one said anything for a full minute.
“She is in the next room, you know,” Bingley said finally.
"I am aware of that too."
“And you are going to be in the same apartment for three years.”
“Unless one of us gets married first and the other has to leave and visit on a schedule.”
“Will that be you?” Bingley said.
Darcy let out a short laugh before he realised it. Marriage was the last thing on his mind. He was not with anyone, and the only woman he had ever loved wanted nothing to do with him.
“If I take your silence as a no, then it would mean that at some point—”
“Not tonight, Charles.”
Bingley sighed. Not impatiently. Just the sigh of a man who had known Darcy long enough to understand when to stop pushing and when to wait.
“Jane sends her love,” he said. “To you and to Mia.”
“Tell her thank you.”
“That said, you should really talk to Elizabeth about—”
“She doesn’t want to talk to me about it,” Darcy interjected before Bingley could finish. “If she wanted to, she would have said something in the past eight years. I mean… how difficult is it to say, ‘Hi, I broke up with you because of this or that’?”
“Well, ask Elizabeth directly yourself. She is right there.”
“Goodnight, Charles.”
Bingley laughed, warm and entirely unrepentant. “Goodnight, Will. Go and get some sleep.”
Darcy ended the call. He sat on the edge of the bathtub a moment longer, staring at the door.
He thought about Richard and Charlotte. How much he missed them. Then, unbidden, his mind drifted to Elizabeth. To four lines on a screen and eight years of not understanding them.
Would she be the first to marry, forcing him to leave? It would likely give him more peace… and yet, he did not want that. Was she even seeing someone? Engaged, perhaps? He doubted it. He would have noticed a ring, or heard Bingley mention it.
His thoughts shifted to Mia. It was only the first day of being her guardian, and already it felt overwhelming.
Richard, you should be here, not me.