29. Lizzy
Lizzy
After a while, I wandered back to the living room, where Tabitha was working with samples of fabric, wallpaper rolls, and paint colors. I lounged on one of the old chairs and watched her holding a pink fabric swatch up to the walls as the sun streamed in.
She checked her phone and laughed, color staining her cheeks. I’d bet her sensitive pearls-and-floral-skirts-wearing self was blushing furiously at a naughty text from Tim, the burly rugby-playing builder she’d fallen for.
Tim was a longtime friend of mine, and although he’d always been honest with the women he’d dated about how he wanted to keep it casual, and only a few of his relationships had become serious, he’d left a lot of broken hearts around the village.
Some of those hearts belonged to my friends, who’d thought that maybe, maybe, they’d be the one to upend his bachelor days.
I’d spent many an evening consoling them.
As soon as I’d seen him the first time with Tabitha, though, I’d almost laughed out loud. That hard man had trailed after her like a love-sick puppy, hanging on her every word.
Maybe I could capture their dynamic in a book—that masculine energy of his and her shy, demure, but assured sweetness.
He’d fought hard for her, and he’d messed up a lot, but he never gave up.
He’d been social before Tabitha, but now when out, he’d give her a secret smile and tip his head toward the door, indicating how keen he was to leave early and have her to himself.
That had not been my experience ever, certainly not with my fiancé, who’d only ever been keen to get home and watch sports. I couldn’t think of any boyfriend who’d seen me and accepted me for myself like that.
Darcy’s angular face and uncompromising, slicked-back hair slipped into my mind.
“You look like yourself, and that makes you the most beautiful woman in the room,” he’d said during our dance.
I’d felt those intense glances of his while we were hay baling too, the way he’d shown his unthinking joy when we’d swung on the rope swing.
The way he’d tried hard to understand my writing, and then after being skeptical, he’d not only stayed up all night to read my latest book, but he’d complimented me on how addictive my novel was and he’d remembered whole sentences to prove it.
“What did you think of the sculpture room?” Tabitha interrupted my thoughts.
“Beautiful pieces in a beautiful house.”
“The one of Darcy is amazing, isn’t it?”
“It is.” He made for a perfect subject, whatever the age. He could have been considered handsome back in Regency times. “Imagine having a sculpture done of you.”
Tabitha turned away from holding her fabrics up to the wall and put a hand on my shoulder. “Is it my imagination, or are you softening toward Darcy?” she asked mischievously.
“I don’t know. Maybe it’s this ridiculously romantic house and all the kind things Mrs. Reynolds said.
Maybe it was that beautiful sculpture of him.
He’s handsome. But none of those things will persuade me to change my opinion of him.
” He’d ruined Jane’s life with his callous interference, and she was still sad and suffering.
And he hadn’t tried to properly apologize since.
She tossed her fabric samples onto a chair and came to sit next to me.
“Lizzy, I thought Darcy seemed abrupt when I first met him. I know he was inexcusably rude to you that first night, and he sort of lied about that recipe. What he did to your sister was awful. That is quite a lot to bulldoze through. But I would love for you to talk to him and find out why he behaved that way. I have only good things to say about him.”
“You and all the staff,” I muttered, feeling as if I were being cornered by all things Darcy.
She smiled. “When I got used to his directness, he turned out to be so good to work with. His bluntness is efficient. You don’t waste time with back-and-forth.
He’s decisive, he knows what he wants, and he gives you a clear answer.
And he’s never dismissive. In fact, he considers all the design decisions respectfully, I’m sure knowing how long it’s taken me to do the research.
I mean, how many decisions does he make in one day about this estate?
And yet, he always has time for me. He seems genuinely interested in my process and each sample I show him.
Even Tim will sometimes look at a swatch and say they all look the same green to him, when clearly, they’re all different blues. ”
She chuckled at the thought of him. “And when I get annoyed, Tim will try to divert me by picking the blue he says is the same color as my eyes. And then…” She blushed as she still did when he was mentioned, and I laughed.
However, I wasn’t convinced Darcy was as amazing as she wanted to believe. I felt uncomfortable that she was such a fan of his.
“You and Tim are the real deal.” I nudged her.
She sighed. “I love doing this job and I love my TV work, but I miss him so much when I’m away.”
“Not as much as he misses you. I bet he’s wandering around the house, aimless and hopeless without you.
Literally standing in the middle of the kitchen staring into space.
Or if he’s out, he’s being intolerable. I’ve been around him when you’re filming, and he’s a bear.
Or he’s constantly checking his phone for a text from you.
It’s truly maddening. He’s terrible company when you’re away. ”
She chuckled.
Tim was lost for her, the real her—who was goofy and fun beneath her pearls and modest floral outfits, and her love for quiet and home—in contrast to Tim, who was such an extrovert.
I wanted to find someone like that, who loved me for exactly who I was, in all my ripped jeans and leaves-in-the-hair self, my ridiculous mother, and all.
Without me changing myself or being embarrassed about being romantic and hopeful and speaking my mind and not being more sophisticated and smartly dressed.
I had thought that might be Darcy, but it couldn’t be him after the way he’d broken up Wills and Jane and his reluctance to see he’d done anything wrong.
Tabitha shook herself and stood up. “I’d love to chat some more, but I have to make decisions for a couple of these rooms today, which will impact the colors and style for the whole house.
Lizzy, would you like to wander around outside for a while until I’m finished?
Then we can drive back to the B&B. The little town of Lambton is lovely. We’ll have dinner there.”
“That sounds wonderful. I’ll stroll around the grounds, maybe take a walk in the woods afterward.
” I was excited to be alone and ponder story ideas.
I loved my characters to be outside in the wild, where they had the opportunity to break free from the chaperoned confines of stuffy Regency drawing rooms.
“Take your time.”
I wandered outside into the grounds and peeked into the orangery, where the restaurant staff were cleaning up for the day.
Speaking to one of the chefs was someone with a shock of red hair. I watched him for a second. William. Oh God, no. Was Darcy here too?
William turned slightly and saw me. His bright blue eyes widened, and a smile flashed across his face, then his expression fell.
Unlike Jane, he didn’t hide his feelings.
His surprise at seeing me had been quickly followed by sadness.
But manners were his strong suit, and he strode over to me without any delay.
God, another person who was going to tell Darcy I’d been here. I hadn’t thought this through.
“Lizzy, how wonderful to see you.” He flailed his arms slightly, like he wanted to hug me but knew he shouldn’t.
“This is awkward. I’m honestly passing through,” I said. “Your brother isn’t here too?”
“No. I’m passing through myself on the way to an event.”
My shoulders dropped with relief that Darcy wasn’t making an appearance.
“I’m sorry. I’d love to stop and show you around, but I have a car waiting for me,” William said.
I tried to smile, but I knew it must look forced.
He turned away but paused and faced me again.
“Lizzy, please don’t blame Darcy for what happened.
Ultimately, ending things with Jane was my own stupid decision.
I’d come out of a terrible experience scarred.
My brother was protecting me, but the decision was my responsibility.
He cautioned me… You know what his opinion is, but I’m the one who broke Jane’s heart.
I’ve been burned before, and…I can’t trust myself anymore. ”
A chauffeur appeared by his side.
“I’m sorry.” He gave me a strained smile. “I do have to go. It’s an event farther north.”
“B-but what about Jane?”
“I thought about calling her, talking some more. But it’s better if I leave her alone so she can get on with her life. I’m sorry. I must go.”
I paced up the slight hill to the forest, my brain scrambling with mixed emotions.
Darcy thought he was protecting his brother and his brother had run scared, though I still thought it was because Darcy had unduly influenced him.
But William was his own person, and he’d made this decision.
William barely knew Jane and me, but he knew and trusted his brother.
If I’d thought Wills was not genuinely interested in Jane at the inn, would I have pointed that out and discouraged her interest rather than been excited about her enthusiasm?
To add to my confusion about Darcy, with every step, I realized anew how big and beautiful this place was, but also what a major business operation it was. I hadn’t even thought about this orangery or the magnitude of all the events they catered here.
A grudging new admiration trickled through me at the thought of Darcy running all this and his business in London, at how highly he was thought of by his staff and Tabitha, and how many families were supported by this estate.
He wasn’t some rich bloke swanning around London, dining out and boozing it up on his inheritance and status.
He was working hard to maintain his heritage and to see that it benefited others.
But Jane. Thinking well of him felt like I was betraying my lovely, sad sister.
I wasn’t here to waste time over what might have been with Darcy, though. I had to think about a story. Appease my agent and publisher and readers. Find my inspiration and write my three chapters.
I strode through the forest for an hour, my face raised to the dwindling sun, missing Oodles bumping into my leg and feeling a bit sad he wasn’t there.
Screams of crows overhead jolted me back into my writing.
Right. Scenes of conflict filled with high stakes that could be set here, despite its present serenity.
A heroine racing to find a beloved lost friend, maybe. Angry with her parents’ arranged marriage, she gallops her horse through the forest, stopping for some mysterious man she’d run into many times, knowing their being seen together could compromise her reputation.
I emerged on the edge of the lake, sheltered from view from the house, and pictured Darcy rising from the water with his shirt off, then quickly shook my head.
There was no point having fantasies about this confusing real-life man.
The only thing in my life I could control was my writing, which was my future.
I pulled my notebook from my backpack and tried to sketch out this new novel of mine. Sigh. Nothing inspiring appeared on the page. I attempted to handwrite a few paragraphs in my notebook, then tried on my phone, which usually forced a few paragraphs.
Nope.
Set a timer. Empty pages. I sat under the thick trees and flopped back onto the bed of crinkling leaves and imagined Darcy hovering over me, resting on his forearms, his hips pressed against mine. “Let’s make these leaves crackle, shall we?” he said with a growl.
Dammit.
Despite all my best intentions about planning that elusive plot of mine, Darcy kept intruding into my thoughts.
Who was he, really? Something about this place was so deeply beautiful, with such a peaceful, harmonious atmosphere, it seemed impossible someone so negative owned it.
He’d earned high praise from his staff. It didn’t erase what he’d done, but now that I’d seen another side to him, I couldn’t dismiss it.
I’d had him pegged as the angry and destructive loner prowling around his castle, but he was much more complex.
I was still lying on the leaf-strewn ground, enjoying the sun on my face, a rustle and crunch signaling my every move.
A loud splash sounded from the lake.
I jolted upright.
Another louder splash sounded, possibly from a large creature. A deer?
I dropped flat, hidden from view, and squinted, trying to see better. No, it wasn’t a deer. Someone was swimming. A broad rippling back, strong legs, a flash of wet black hair. Then the profile I’d seen carved into marble flicked my way.
I gasped. It was Darcy.