Adapt

by Melanie Rachel

  By the time he returned, and she huffed softly that he obviously didn’t know what ice cream looked like, G was giggling a little. Will noted that while she’d made a joke of it, Elizabeth took the soup gratefully and began to eat it, one slow spoonful at a time. When she paused to sip some water and asked to watch a movie, Georgiana agreed.

  Will had half expected Elizabeth to choose an Audrey Hepburn film, but she seemed aware that it might not have the same appeal for Richard and Georgiana. “You have The Princess Bride!” Elizabeth exclaimed happily, using the remote to flip through their digital collection from her comfortable perch on the couch. “We have to watch it.”

  “I’ve never seen it,” Georgiana said quietly, her eyes dancing as they watched Elizabeth growing more enthusiastic.

  “Will!” Elizabeth grimaced in mock pain. “How could you have deprived your sister of the most quotable movie in the last hundred and thirty years?” Her eyes twinkled. “Besides Casablanca, of course.”

  Will smiled.

  “Did they even have movies that long ago?” Richard asked

  “1889,” Will and Elizabeth replied at the same time. Georgiana looked first at her brother and then at Elizabeth. Elizabeth leaned back with a satisfied smile on her face as the movie began to play.

  Will heard the buzzing of his alarm and slapped at the button to turn it off. He groaned and flipped over before sitting up, careful not to pull the covers off Elizabeth. He watched her sleep, a thin shaft of golden light illuminating one side of her face and her shoulder. He reached out to stroke her hair, then pulled it back, afraid to wake her.

  He stood quietly and padded off to his closet, pulling on his socks and trousers, stepping into his shoes, and shoving his arms into an oxford shirt. He strolled back into the bedroom and saw her eyes had opened. Will searched Elizabeth’s face. Her cheeks were pink rather than the frightening grayish color that had receded so gradually the day before, and she appeared well rested. Satisfied with his evaluation, he kissed her forehead and finished buttoning his shirt. “Sorry to wake you, love. I have to work this morning. I should be back by lunch.”

  “So early?” Elizabeth groused. She reached out and grasped his wrist to look at his watch. “It’s six in the morning, Will. And it’s Black Friday.”

  “I won’t be shopping,” he said with a laugh. “Early appointment. Richard’s coming too, getting his feet wet.”

  “Is it a teleconference or in person?”

  “In person.” He tossed a tie around his neck and knotted it. “I had a text about on Wednesday.”

  “Oh, yeah, I remember.” Elizabeth closed one eye, peering at him with the other. “It made you frown.” She stretched. “Come back soon.”

  “I will,” he promised, then ordered, “Don’t move from the bed. I have breakfast coming for you around ten.”

  Elizabeth curled up on her side, knees to her chest. “What if I have to go the bathroom?”

  Will shook his head at her. Like a child testing her limits. “Then go and come right back.”

  She chuckled. “Okay. If I’m missing when you come home, it was probably Georgiana.”

  Will snorted, relieved that the two seemed to be hitting it off despite their rocky start. “You can take her.”

  “I dunno,” Elizabeth responded, her voice muffled in the blanket. “She’s wily.”

  Will sat on the edge of the bed and gently brushed her hair from her face. “Please take it easy today, all right? I’ll be home before you know it.”

  “Okay.” Elizabeth wrapped herself up in the blanket and grabbed his pillow.

  Will shook his head. “You aren’t even upset I’m leaving. You were just waiting to steal my pillow.” The corners of his eyes crinkled with affection.

  “Smells like you,” was the sleepy reply, and Will came very close to tossing off his clothes and climbing back into bed with her, but the alert on his phone meant he had to go. Duty calls. He stepped out into the hallway and rapped on Richard’s door. His cousin emerged in a suit and tie, ready to depart. They were up the stairs and out of the apartment in no time, heading for the Midtown West offices of FORGE.

  Chapter Nine

  “Thanks for meeting us here on such short notice,” Will said in a hushed voice. “I know you’re taking time away from your family for this.”

  “It’s not a problem, Mr. Darcy,” John Parker said seriously. “It’s just part of the job.”

  “I’m surprised he hasn’t come inside the office yet,” Richard said.

  Richard and John flanked the door with their backs to the wall, facing Will as he sat at his desk. They were all speaking in low tones.

  “He knows that when he uses his ID to enter the building, the computer will track his time here,” John mused. “He may stay a few hours to make us believe he was just here to work.”

  They heard someone walking down the hall, and they stopped speaking. In a few moments, the door opened, and Charles Bingley stepped inside.

  Charles’s face paled when he saw that he was not alone, but his voice was steady. “Will,” he said in greeting.

  Will felt his stomach twist. He held out his hand silently, and Charles hesitated before he handed a file over. Will dropped it on the desk in front of him and nodded at John.

  Will motioned to his left. “Charles, I believe you know John Parker from Human Resources?”

  Charles closed his eyes briefly before he looked back and nodded a greeting.

  Will’s voice was cold and formal. “The man to my right is my cousin and FORGE founding member, Richard Fitzwilliam, formerly Major Richard Fitzwilliam of the United States Marine Corps.” He motioned to the chair again, and Charles sat down, folding his hands and clenching them tightly together.

  “You set me up,” Charles said. There was no accusation in his statement, only surprise.

  Unbelievable. Will struggled to remain impassive. Richard’s eyes turned dark, and Will shook his head at his cousin.

  “Nobody set you up,” he replied stonily, returning his attention to Charles. The younger man dropped his eyes. “You were told, quite clearly, that this report was for my eyes only. All I did was ask Wanda to leave some files on my desk.”

  Charles sighed. “Fair enough.” He squared his shoulders and looked up. “I hope you know I only had your best interests at heart, Darce.”

  Will leaned forward. “If only that were true.” He shook his head and spoke slowly. “You took what you believed to be a confidential file from my office after you were told not to read it.” He stared at Charles until the man reluctantly nodded once. “You then took that confidential file off the premises to your home, leaving us wide open to a lawsuit.” He felt like throwing up. Charles had become a friend, and he didn’t have many of those. It hurt to think that he had one fewer than he’d realized.

  Charles sighed. “I wanted to read it in private.”

  “On an unscheduled vacation from the office,” Will added. He scowled. “Everyone was working until three on Wednesday except the CEO and his VP of Operations.” Wanda had texted him about the folder and Charles’ absence on Wednesday afternoon. Charles had left early on Tuesday, but she told him she hadn’t wanted him to cut his own vacation short. Will began to tap his index finger against the desktop, something he only did when he was deeply angry. “Do you care at all how that looks, Charles? What it does to morale?”

  Will stood and placed his palms on the desk. “So I must ask two questions.” He leaned slightly forward before continuing. “How is putting my company at risk looking after my best interests? And who, exactly, hired you for that job?”

  Charles took a deep breath and pressed against the back of his chair.

  “Are you firing me?” he asked quietly.

  Will looked at Bingley askance. “That depends on you.”

  Charles’s expression was suddenly hopeful. “What do I need to do?” he asked in a rush.

  Will shook his head at the misunderstanding. He glanced at Richard before mov
ing his attention back to the man awaiting his sentence. “You can’t work here anymore, Charles.”

  Charles lowered his head and brought one hand up to rub the back of his neck.

  “You must see that,” Will stated unequivocally. “I can’t employ an executive who ignores my directives because he thinks he knows better.” He squeezed his eyes shut for a second or two before opening them and continuing. “You’ve done good work in the past, Charles, and we do business with your family. Because I respect that, I will accept your immediate resignation in lieu of termination. There will be a small severance involved, which Mr. Parker will explain. To take advantage of this offer, you will write a letter of resignation before you leave today.” Charles’s posture was contrite, but Will made sure his voice betrayed nothing. “Mr. Parker will keep you company while you complete your paperwork, and Mr. Fitzwilliam will help him escort you from the building.” He let out a breath, and said, softly, “You’ve been considering an MBA. Go back to school, Charles.” He stood to signal the end of the conversation.

  Richard stood behind Charles’s chair without a word, waiting. After a few moments to let the news sink in, Charles nodded, then pushed himself up and made for the door. He was followed first by Parker, then Richard.

  Will sat heavily when they were gone. From the first weeks of their acquaintance, he and Charles had always had a comfortable relationship with one another. They were both products of the same university program and their upbringings had given them much in common. He appreciated the way Charles’s more gregarious nature often smoothed the path to partnerships and negotiations. Over time, they’d become friends. Charles had spent many evenings in the Darcy apartment over the past few years, eating dinner, watching movies, even helping Georgiana with her homework, and Will allowed himself to mourn the loss.

  He picked up the file and then tossed it back on the desk without opening it. A handwritten note slid halfway out. Bingley’s cursive was terrible, but Will managed to read most of it. It was a hurried note explaining that he’d read the file. A confession, of sorts. Too little, too late, Will thought, but then, at least there’s hope for him. Just not here.

  When Richard returned to the office, the folder was still discarded on the desk, the blue piece of note paper on top of it. Will had tipped his chair back as far as it would go and was staring at the ceiling, his hands folded behind his head. Richard slumped into the chair Bingley had occupied and dropped a neatly typed letter on the desk.

  “Parker has the original and reminded Bingley of his nondisclosure agreement,” he grunted. “This is your copy. We have Bingley’s key and ID. Parker’s locked the office and secured the laptop. Tech will take it on Monday.”

  Will eyed the piece of paper but made no move to read it.

  “So I’m assuming,” Richard, touching the folder, “that this was a dummy file?”

  Will nodded absently. Richard grabbed it and flipped it open. His serious mien lightened considerably as he continued to read. At one point he laughed out loud, and Will glanced over at him.

  “Who wrote this?” Richard asked.

  Will tried to smile, but Bingley’s defection had hurt too much. “Wanda,” he said. He tried to shake the gloom off. “She did say she had a good time with it.”

  “I think she did,” Richard replied, his eyes rapidly scanning the lines. “She should be writing novels.” He shook his head. “Who even uses paper files anymore?” Richard asked, and then tossed his head back as he remembered all the paper on his desk at the Embassy. “I mean, besides the military.” He read the true awards, her medals, her rank, the De Roos details, all things that could easily be accessed online.

  Will shrugged. “We still use a few when clients are anxious about privacy.” Richard pulled a face. “I know, but these days it’s likely safer than the Internet.” His cousin leaned back, file still in hand. “Having the hard copy made it simple to track. Charles knows I sometimes use paper files, and all Wanda had to do was watch the office. She said he sauntered out of here with just that folder, and I was sure he’d sneak in here to return it when we were all out, so I just made sure the alarm would send me a text if it was triggered, even if it was disabled with the proper code.” His eyes met Richard’s before returning to his perusal of the heating vent above him.

  “So he was ambitious, predictable, and sloppy,” Richard mused, continuing to read. “Not a great combination, cuz.”

  “No,” Will agreed. “He’s sharp in other ways, but . . .” His voice trailed off. He tossed the note at Richard. “At least he was going to confess it in the end. But if that file wasn’t a fake and it was anyone other than Elizabeth, we could be facing a serious settlement or even a court case.”

  Richard cleared his throat. “I don’t have to tell you that you did the right thing here, do I?” he asked pointedly.

  Will shook his head. “Knowing I’m right doesn’t make it easier. He’s been a friend, Richard.”

  Richard leaned forward. “As usual, you’re taking too much on yourself. Batboy didn’t deserve you or the job.”

  “He was good at his job, Richard,” Will argued, “or I would never have kept him on.” His eyes traced the Japanese scroll hanging on his wall. Seven times down, eight times up, it read. Perseverance, he reminded himself. When life knocks you down . . . It had been his mantra since the death of his parents.

  Richard shrugged. “Eh. You’ve got bigger problems at the moment.”

  That got Will’s attention. His brows pinched together. He sat up properly in his chair and asked, “Like what?”

  Richard pointed at a line on the faux report. “How are you going to tell Bennet she was in a beauty contest called ‘Leatherneck Lovelies’?”

  Will set his elbows on the desk, burying his face in his hands and releasing a pained laugh. “Oh God. I gave Wanda free rein.”

  “Sounds like alligators in prom dresses,” he muttered. Suddenly, Richard sat up straight. “Even better,” he guffawed, waving the offending piece of paper in the air. “She was only first-runner up.”

  It was half past ten. Elizabeth was sitting up in Will’s ridiculously large bed pulling on a pair of his thick socks and seriously considering making a break for the kitchen when she heard a soft knock on the door.

  “Elizabeth?” Georgiana called. “I heard you moving around. Are you hungry?”

  “Come in, Georgiana,” Elizabeth replied. When the girl entered carrying a tray of food, Elizabeth had to laugh. There was orange juice, water, oatmeal, what appeared to be multigrain waffles, fruit, and bacon. “Did Will make you do this?”

  Georgiana rolled her eyes, but it was exaggerated and in good humor. “‘It’s the least you can do,’” she said in a terrible imitation of her brother’s low voice. She shrugged. “Penance,” she added in her own voice.

  Elizabeth laughed. “Well, bring those guilt waffles right on over. I’m starving. Did you bring enough for two?”

  Georgiana set down the tray on the bed and took a piece of bacon. “I’ve eaten.”

  “Then why are you stealing my bacon?” Elizabeth asked, pretending to frown.

  “It just looks better when it’s on someone else’s plate,” was the teasing reply. Georgiana tossed her long hair behind her shoulder and took a bite. “Mmm.”

  Elizabeth picked up the other piece. “Was that little performance also commanded by your brother?” She popped it in her mouth.

  Georgiana blushed and nodded. “He told me to say it just like that.”

  Elizabeth swallowed. “I’m impressed with his mastery of the hair flip,” was her sardonic reply.

  Georgiana snorted. “That would be a picture,” she replied.

  Elizabeth ate steadily, piling the fruit on top of the waffles and ignoring the syrup. She stole intermittent glances at Georgiana as she finished about half of the oatmeal, the glass of water, and a few sips of juice before setting the tray aside. Georgiana had an uncertain expression on her face. She sat cross-legged on the bed, picking
at a thread on the duvet, offering every appearance of discomfort. When Elizabeth leaned back against the headboard, Georgiana moved the tray out of the way and returned to sit on the bed.

  “Elizabeth,” she said hesitantly, “you never really responded to my apology last night.”

  Elizabeth gazed at the girl. She was nineteen, but even Kit seemed to have more self-confidence. She reminded Elizabeth of a younger Mary, a bit, though her middle sister had come through the fires of adolescence with a clear idea of who she was and what she wanted. Aunt Maddy had a lot to do with that, she thought. Georgiana had too many men with too much money trying to make everything better. Their hearts were in the right place, but in the end, all that pampering is just going to make things harder on her.

  Georgiana was flushing under her watchful eye. It was a technique Elizabeth had developed the year she’d been mostly on her own with her three younger sisters, and she’d seen both her aunt and uncle use it effectively. It hadn’t taken long to learn that when they’d done something wrong, forcing an apology was useless. If they didn’t feel it, the words meant nothing. It’s always better to get them to come to you, she thought with satisfaction. Sometimes, she recalled Uncle Ed saying, you’ve got to let ’em squirm.

  She pursed her lips and met Georgiana’s gaze. “Did you really mean it?”

  “Yes!” Georgiana exclaimed emphatically. Elizabeth did not reply, just raised an eyebrow and met the younger girl’s eyes. There was no animosity in either the question or the gaze, and after a few minutes, Georgiana’s shoulders slumped. “Will made me apologize.”

  “Of course he did,” Elizabeth said pleasantly. “But I don’t require an apology, Georgiana.”

  “You don’t?” Georgiana asked quizzically.

  Elizabeth shook her head. “No. What I require is an explanation.”

  Georgiana sighed, exasperated. “That’s so much harder.” She gave Elizabeth a pleading look, and Elizabeth smiled.