41. Lizzy
Lizzy
Iwoke suddenly to a frantic knocking on the door.
I peered around at the large room, the light struggling to seep through the long sage-green linen drapes. Darcy was stretched on his front beside me, a hand on my thigh, his face rumpled and creased but serene, the sheets twisted around his long legs.
He stirred.
Another loud knock.
“Lizzy, Lizzy! It’s Tabitha. Jane’s been trying to get hold of you. She says it’s urgent.”
Jane? She was trying to get hold of me? Why?
Darcy unfurled beside me. “What’s wrong? What’s going on?”
“I don’t know.” I looked around for my own phone. In my handbag in the living room. Forgotten in last night’s passion. Probably dead.
Had Jane had an accident? Mum?
“There’s a dressing gown in my wardrobe,” Darcy said.
Naked and self-conscious despite the emergency, I rushed over to the wardrobe, pulled out a blue velvet dressing gown, wrapped it around myself, and turned to see Darcy discreetly looking away. Always the gentleman, even after last night, and I was touched by that. He pushed himself out of bed.
I hurried outside to the hallway, where Tabitha was waiting. She was distressed, and her rumpled and messy clothing looked like she’d dressed in a hurry.
She handed me her phone on speaker.
“Jane. What’s going on? What happened?” I asked.
Darcy appeared by my side, dressed hastily in sweatpants and a sweatshirt, his hair mussed, his face etched with worry.
“Lizzy?” Jane said.
Oh God. Even from a one tear-filled word, I knew something was horribly wrong.
“Shall I step around the corner?” Tabitha asked.
“Yes. Do you want privacy?” Darcy asked.
“Is it okay if Tabitha and Darcy hear?” I asked Jane. “I have you on speaker.”
“Yes. They might know what to do.”
I nodded to Tabs and Darcy to stay.
“What’s wrong, love?” I asked her.
“George. How could he?” she sobbed.
George Wickham. I groaned, my stomach tense. What had that awful prick ex of hers done now?
She gave an anguished cry. “When we were together, he persuaded me to let him take nude photos of me. It was done in his studio, and it was a group photo. He said the photos were for an art series for a gallery. I wasn’t sure, and he guilted me, saying he would look bad if his own girlfriend, a model, wasn’t comfortable participating… ”
I made a disgusted sound in the back of my throat. His usual whiny, needy bullshit, preying on her sweet nature.
She sobbed. “I was not keen, but he promised the photo would be blurred, I wasn’t going to be recognizable. There would be a room of people, and he told me he needed another body.”
Bile rose up from my stomach. I knew this wasn’t going anywhere good.
She went on. “He sent me the photo, and it’s not blurred.
I’m clearly identifiable, and my face is center front.
And it’s nothing like it seemed when he took the photo.
I don’t know what he’s done to distort the image, but it looks like some kind of debauched orgy.
He said we are destined to be together, that if I don’t get back with him, he’s going to release the photo to that horrible celebrity site ‘Where are they now?’ on Tuesday, six p.m.”
Both Tabitha and Darcy tensed beside me.
Wickham had been sickeningly clever to threaten to send it to that site. Readers would hate Jane more, thinking she had beauty, opportunity, and she’d thrown it all away. Pure clickbait.
Jane coughed out a sob, as though she was going to be sick.
My stomach rolled over, bilious too, but I went rigid, determined to stay calm for my sister.
“Oh God, Jane. I hate that man,” I said.
“Me too. I can never go back to him. I’ll have to take the consequences.
Those photos will be on every site, in every newspaper, all over the internet.
” Her voice was getting higher and higher, hysterical.
“I’ll be fired from my job at the school.
I’ll never teach again. I’ll never be able to show my face in this town.
I’ll be a laughingstock. I haven’t told Wills yet—what is he going to think? ”
I made soothing noises. From our calls this week, she and Wills seemed rock solid. But for the rest? I wanted to contradict her, but I couldn’t. This image was exactly what newspapers and websites needed to up their views. I could see how her school would view that as bad publicity.
Tabitha’s breathing went shallow. Darcy looked increasingly angry.
“Bloody evil bastard,” I muttered. “I thought I couldn’t hate him more.” I needed to create a plan. But I couldn’t think straight. I’d call the local lawyer on the train. For now, I had to get to my sister, be with her, and find out all the facts.
“I’ve been such a fool, such a stupid, naive fool to trust him,” she said. “He got me to sign some papers while everyone was watching, waiting for the shoot. I signed it quickly because I didn’t want to keep everyone waiting.”
Oh God, she’d signed a contract.
“I’m getting the next train home,” I said. “Do you have a copy?”
“Lizzy, I’m not sure there’s anything you or anyone can do. I feel so selfish dragging you home like this. You needed this break away. I wanted to talk to someone sensible, and Mum is not that person.”
Mum. She must be out of her mind with worry, but she was not good in a crisis, always freaking out.
“Sit tight,” I said. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
“But there’s nothing to be done.”
Her half sobs of despair had been replaced by a deep sadness and resignation in her voice, which absolutely killed me.
“We’ll find a solution to this, don’t worry,” I said.
Even as I spoke those words, I didn’t quite believe myself.
He owned the photos. She’d consented to having them taken—but not used in this way.
“I love you, and as soon as I get on the train, I’ll charge my phone and we’ll talk more about the details. ”
We rang off, and I quickly glanced at Darcy.
He no longer looked angry. He looked tense.
Oh God. Was he hiding that he was appalled?
Was this disdain for my family? It was hard to say.
I searched his features for sympathy but found none.
Was this more evidence he thought my family was a mess?
Was he thinking Wills should end any association with Jane again?
“It seems an impossible situation,” I said.
Tabitha pressed her forehead. “Poor, poor Jane.” She tapped into her phone. “I’ve called you a taxi, coming in a half hour. I’ll go with you to the train station.”
I checked Darcy, expecting him to protest that he would take me instead. He was still silent, staring into space, as though thinking intently.
Abruptly, he faced me. “I have some urgent things to do. Help yourself to anything you need in the bathroom. It’s fully stocked. I’ll let you have your privacy. I’ll use the bathroom next door to mine.”
He had urgent things to do? Was he brushing me off because my family was getting caught in a scandal? I shook myself. I didn’t have time to worry about that or us now.
I needed to be with Jane.
After the quickest shower in history, even for me, heart pounding, my mind racing, still sick to my stomach, I pulled on fresh clothing, packed hastily, grabbed my purse from the drawing room, and met Tabitha and Darcy in the foyer. He had wet hair, wore jeans, and his feet were still bare.
“Goodbye,” I said, standing awkwardly.
Should we hug? It would seem odd not to after last night.
But he didn’t make a motion toward me. He seemed uncomfortable and even glanced toward his office, eager to get back to work, likely.
I deflated. Was this how he processed? Over the Amor Inn weekend, he’d shut down when things had gotten tense on the Friday night and during the cooking competition.
When I’d challenged him about how he was influencing Wills, he was defensive.
Concern and uncertainty flooded me seeing this behavior of his again.
Or maybe I was wrong, and this was how he attacked problems—focused, ignoring everything else but the issue at hand. Whatever the cause of his distanced demeanor, I didn’t have time to talk it out with him.
He nodded tensely to me. “You’ll make the eight-thirty train if you hurry.”