Meryton Matchmakers

by Kristi Rose

  “Lydia and George are auctioning off the men. Granted for small amounts and for good causes, but regardless. All the couples you paired, with the exception of a few, split from your setup and joined the auction.”

  Elizabeth jumped to her feet. “What? Why?”

  “Lydia said many of the pairings were wrong, and people were leaving. Oh, and she gave everyone a free month’s membership.”

  Elizabeth pushed past Jane and walked briskly to the event room. Once inside, she came to a screeching halt, Jane slamming into her back.

  The buzz of the room was loud, people laughing. Her quiet, calm adult venue now had the feel of happy hour.

  George was at a table holding a mic, his attention on Lydia, and they were laughing.

  “All right, all right. That was interesting,” he said with a shake of his head. “You only had to match the bid, sir, not double it. But we appreciate your generosity and your eagerness to meet that lovely lady.” George gestured to a tall, bookish woman Elizabeth recalled was a college professor. She was walking into the next room with the guy Elizabeth had considered a good match for Suzie Carmichael. His several tattoos and affinity for long rides on his chopper had not melded with the professor’s need for a quiet and reflective person. Maybe it was because he’d worn khakis?

  A waiter handed George a piece of paper. He opened it and stared. “Ah, that’s all the men tonight, ladies,” he said while focused on the paper. A few women in the crowd booed.

  Lydia came up to George and leaned across so she could see the note. She took the paper and the microphone from his hand and turned to the thinning crowd.

  Elizabeth wondered why the numbers were off. She had assigned everyone a pair when the evening started. She glanced into the other room, did a quick head count, and realized it was because some people had left the event. Elizabeth sucked in a ragged breath and wondered if the participants had left because of the auction or before.

  Lydia's voice broke through her erratic thoughts. “Of course, Geo can’t auction himself, so I will have those honors.” She waved the paper in the air. “I’m sorry ladies, what I have here is a bid for twenty-five dollars to each of the charities for Geo Wickham. Anyone have more than a cool hundred they’d like to bid? One hundred and five maybe?”

  There was a murmur through the crowd. Lydia continued. “George may look like a bad boy”—she leaned toward the group—“and a wild streak might run through him, but let me tell you a few things about George Wickham you might not have read about in the rags. George is adventurous. He’s game to try new things. He’s loyal and gives unconditionally.” She paused and pressed a finger to her lips. “He also plays the guitar. Not loud rock guitar but beautiful, soulful acoustic guitar,” she said in a low voice like she was sharing a deep secret.

  George stared at her.

  She smiled at him. “I heard you play last week in Meryton.” She faced the group again. “Do I have one-oh-five?”

  Two hands shot up.

  “One thousand dollars,” Suzie Carmichael said.

  Elizabeth groaned. Suzie Carmichael was not an easy woman to please. Professionally and personally, and though she’d been a client with Meryton for the last few months, this was the first time she’d come to an event. Only doing so with a fair warning to Elizabeth that it better be worth her while. Pairing her with George Wickham, the man looking for his next scam, was a disaster waiting to happen. Anything positive or negative would be associated with Meryton Matchmakers. Dread crept over her. She desperately wanted a do-over for the night.

  “What kind of company is it you and Jane run, Lizzy, auctioning off men?”

  Elizabeth turned and found her mother, Joanna Bennet, standing beside her. The evening had just gone from awful to oh-so-stinking-bad. Joanna, a writer for a tell-all gossip tabloid, had not been invited to attend. In fact, Elizabeth had purposefully kept the event from her mother for this exact reason.

  “What are you doing here?” Elizabeth forced herself to breath deep and not give in to the panic.

  “Sold to Ms. Carmichael for a grand. Thank you everyone for your kindness and generosity,” Lydia’s voice boomed across the room, and everyone applauded. Couples were moving into a second room where Elizabeth could see people talking and laughing.

  “I came to see my children. When more than half of my girls are in the city, I’d like to see them and catch up.” She wove her arm through Elizabeth’s. “I’m so glad I came to this and got to see firsthand how you run things. Not like I expected at all, Lizzy. Very reality TV. And Geo Wickham. Up to his tricks, I see. Got fired earlier today from his soap show for not showing up. Guess he was working bigger projects.” She nodded to Carmichael who was waiting near the entrance to the other room and looking around.

  Elizabeth scanned the area for Geo. Neither he nor Lydia were present. Elizabeth’s gut clenched, her instincts telling her something else was about to go wrong.

  “Excuse me, Mother. There’s something I have to take care of.” She extracted herself from her mother’s grip then walked away, looking for Lydia and Wickham. She reached Suzie in a few steps. “He’ll be right with you. He wanted to freshen up,” Elizabeth said using the only excuse, a lame one indeed, she could create.

  She hurried away and saw her sister Kitty. “Have you seen Lydia or Geo?” she asked in a hushed voice.

  Kitty shook her head.

  Elizabeth stepped out from the event room and saw Darcy stalking away. She followed him. All the conference rooms were lined up down a long hallway in their own wing, and separating them from the main building was an English garden enclosed in a solarium. A small brook running along the walkway and the occasional bird gave it an enchanting presentation. Elizabeth had hoped the garden would set the right mood for clients since each had to pass through.

  Darcy was a handful of feet ahead of her, but he came to a stop inside the solarium and cleared his throat. Elizabeth skidding to a stop behind him. Lydia and Wickham were wrapped in each other’s arms, lost in a passionate kiss. She felt like a voyeur so looked away until someone behind her gasped then chuckled. She spun around to find her mother with her hand over her mouth and Suzie Carmichael with her arms crossed and lips pressed together tightly.

  “Is this how business is done at Meryton Matchmakers? Is it all a con?” Suzie asked, then spun on her heel and stomped off.

  Chapter Twelve

  My dear, lovely readers. I would not be a journalist worth a salt if I did not bring you this story. It pains me as I am well acquainted with many of the people you will soon read about, and calling them out on their poor behavior is embarrassing. You see, dear reader, I am the mother of some of the participants in last night’s––dare we call it—social? Embarrassment aside, it is my job, no, my duty, to expose the underbelly of the rich and famous of this country, as well as the people preying on them. Grab onto your chairs, friends, and lean in close. You aren’t going to want to miss a word of this.

  Yesterday, at a swanky high-end hotel in Manhattan, a certain matchmaker company from my hometown, Meryton, threw an event touted as a meet-and-greet for seekers of a life partner. Now, some facts you’ll need to be in possession of before I continue. This matchmaker company prides itself––and has emblazoned on its website––that confidentiality and discretion is of the upmost importance to them. Yet last night they auctioned off men to women who knew little about whom they were bidding on except they like long drives and micro-breweries. Not much of a foundation on which to build a life-long partnership on, agreed? Using the ruse of collecting monies for charities such as homeless animals and wayward teens in a work-study program, Meryton bartered flesh for dollars, peddling romance and love. Who might have been the biggest spender you ask? Why, movie producer, Suzie Carmichael, that’s who. Throwing cash at the lost cause Geo Wickham. Perhaps underneath the despotic, demanding business presence, lies a woman desperate for love and willing to pay for it. Morally, I ask you to consider these facts as you spend your hard-earn
ed dollars. I, as a mother, will search my soul and investigate where I went awry with my two eldest children, Jane and Elizabeth, the flesh peddlers.

  Oh, and one last tidbit. William Darcy was also present with no explanation as to why. Could it be possible he is actually hoping to save what remains of his shriveled heart with bought love? Should we tell him it’s too late?

  * * *

  After pushing away his breakfast plate, Darcy flipped his laptop screen down so as not to see the explosive article trying to pass as journalism. The comments below the piece had thousands of likes and remarks, and Darcy knew the article would run again in the weekly rag Exposed put out. Fearing they’d missed people in the global reach of the World Wide Web, the tabloid continued with its practice of sacrificing trees for their gospel.

  What astounded Darcy more was that said journalist was Elizabeth’s mother, a role that clearly did not come into place since Joanna Bennet basically threw anyone and everyone under the metaphoric bus. Today’s victims were both Elizabeth, Jane, himself, Wickham, and the producer, Suzie Carmichael. Oddly, he’d barely been mentioned. Typically he was a favorite target of Mrs. Bennet’s pointy words.

  Darcy rubbed his chin and debated on his next course of action. He hated not knowing what to do. He was not good with all this indecisiveness and uncertainty.

  “What has you looking so dour?” Caroline asked as she came into the room.

  “When did you say your place would be finished?” She’d been staying in his city apartment for what? Near three months now. The renovation on hers was taking longer than she initially believed.

  Caroline stuttered in her stride. “Have I outstayed my welcome?” She paused at the table, one hand on her chair.

  “No, I was planning ahead and was wondering if I need to close this place up anytime soon.” He rubbed his thumb over the corner of the laptop and wondered if Elizabeth had seen the article.

  “Are you going away again? So soon?” Caroline pulled out the chair then sat. She spread a napkin in her lap before reaching to open the lids of the serving bowls before her.

  “I am not sure what my plans are yet. I…there seems to be…err…”

  Caroline raised a brow. “Who is this stranger before me?” She laughed and cracked her boiled egg with the tip of her tiny spoon.

  Darcy opened the laptop and turned the screen toward Caroline with the article pulled up. She ate while she read, her eyebrows rising often. When she was done, she wiped her mouth with her napkin and then said, “Oh my. That woman is awful. Why does she pick on you so?” Caroline shook her head. “I suppose there is some comfort in the fact she’ll attack anyone. Even her own children. At least going after you isn’t personal.”

  Darcy gave the article another read, wondering how Caroline came to such a conclusion, and then he saw it. He jumped to his feet, his chair skidding back. Caroline was right. The article was a personal attack on Elizabeth and all she did. Jane as well, and because of his strong feeling for Elizabeth, any maligning behavior to her felt as if it was also directed at him. He was overcome with the urge to protect Elizabeth, an urge to reassure her the people who her mother spoke to were insignificant in the overall big picture. Whatever that might be. He patted his pockets, checking for his wallet and, finding it, then strode from his apartment.

  The twelve-minute journey to the hotel where Elizabeth was staying took seven. He wandered the lobby, avoiding the hotel manager who would likely report to the owner, Darcy’s friend Miles, his presence. Something he wanted to avoid. With hands in his pants’ pockets, he beelined for the solarium and, upon entering, caught a glimpse of Suzie Carmichael at the far end. He paused. Although he couldn’t discern her words, her angry tone carried across the room to him. She was wagging a finger in the face of another person, and when she shifted, Darcy immediately knew who it was. There was no mistaking the long, dark hair and stiff posture of Elizabeth. Her head held high, she was taking the verbal beat-down like a champ. Without hesitation, he continued toward her. Darcy didn’t have to get much closer to make out what was being said; Carmichael was excessively loud, her words echoing across the glass room.

  “I will bring you down. Do you understand me? I will destroy you and your little company of yours. You’ve made me a joke—”

  “My mother is the one who wrote those things. I can no more control her than I can control you or George Wickham or the moon.”

  “You have twenty-four hours to make this right or else you better dust off your passport because you’ll never work in this country again.”

  Elizabeth huffed. “I understand you’re upset. We all are. It wasn’t a flattering article to any of us, by any means, but to threaten me with never working in this country again”–– Elizabeth shook her head––“I cannot control the actions of others.”

  “Fix it,” the tall woman said with seething rage. “Fix it or else.” Following a final wag of her finger in Elizabeth’s face, the producer stormed off.

  Elizabeth turned to watch her leave and saw him. “Mr. Darcy,” she gasped.

  She was pale, and though her fine eyes were bright, he knew unshed tears were the reasons.

  “I apologize for intruding. I read your mother’s article, and I came because…” He was unsure of how to finish. “Do not let that woman”––he pointed over his shoulder “––strong-arm you. You are not responsible for your mother.”

  Elizabeth shook her head. “No, for my mother, I am not.” She walked slowly to a bench and lowered herself. “But for my employees during a work event, I most certainly am. Never mind my sisters.” She folded her hands in her lap.

  He stepped closer. “The auction wasn’t awful.”

  Elizabeth gave a derisive laugh and looked away. “The auction. That is the least of my problems.” Her gaze darted around the room before meeting his. “Lydia has run off with your Mr. Wickham. Why? I have no idea. Where? Again, no clue. George was to meet Ms. Carmichael today for a lunch date. She won him in the auction, and after catching him with Lydia last night was rightfully upset. It took quite a bit of managing to make things right and set up this lunch, only Wickham never showed. The paparazzi did, thanks to my mother, I'm sure, who now knows Ms. Carmichael was stood up. That’s what she’s upset about, among other things. Yet, all I can think about is my sister at the hands of George Wickham, and I cannot, for the life of me, figure out what he means to get from her. We have no money. We have no connections to Hollywood.” She shook her head again, then wiped a lone tear from her cheek. As soon as it was gone, another replaced it.

  Seeing her cry gutted him. Something deep and primal within him broke free, and he revisited the all too familiar rage he’d come to associate with his old pal George. Only this time the intensity was multiplied. Fool him once, shame on him. Fool him twice, and pay.

  After pulling a linen handkerchief from his breast pocket, he handed it to Elizabeth.

  “I’m so sorry,” he said and knew it wasn’t enough. He had brought this chaos into her life.

  She waved away his words then dabbed at her eyes.

  Not knowing what more to say, needing something to do, he bowed his head then turned on his heel and strode from the hotel. He was one step outside the entrance when he got his private investigator on the phone.

  Chapter Thirteen

  With her head held high and a baseball-sized knot in her stomach, another smaller one in her throat, Elizabeth finished her business with the hotel, paid their finalized bill, and met Jane in the lobby. Waiting with their luggage, Jane stood twisting her fingers and looked very much like Elizabeth felt. Devastated.

  How had something they’d done several times before gone so wrong so quickly?

  Two words: Lydia and Wickham.

  Elizabeth remembered the horror on Darcy’s face after he witnessed Suzie Carmichael’s rant, and he’d nearly bolted from the room when she told him Lydia had run off with George. Oh, what a hot mess her family was and, by default, she was as well. Or maybe she was just
as much a disaster and didn’t recognize it. Clearly, Darcy saw her as a mess. She’d bet he was relieved his offer of marriage had been turned down. He narrowly escaped getting tangled up in this travesty of a family.

  Without saying anything, she picked up her small bag, Jane picked up hers, and they walked out together. Once out of the hotel and away from anyone whom might be listening, Jane asked in a hushed voice, “Do you really think Ms. Carmichael will sue?”

  Elizabeth shrugged. “It doesn’t matter if she really goes through with it. All the media around it will destroy us. If it hasn’t already.” They began their journey to the train station. The morning was burning off in the hazy rays of the sun. The day looked to be a pleasant one, but Elizabeth couldn’t come close to enjoying it until they were far away from everyone and everything here. The hustle and bustle of the city echoed the chaos within her.

  “What was Lydia thinking?” Jayne asked.

  They both knew the answer to that question. Lydia did what Lydia wanted, and whatever she was doing was undoubtedly going to benefit Lydia first and anyone else second. Except maybe in this situation. Lydia had no idea what she was up against with the likes of George Wickham.

  “It’s my fault,” Elizabeth said.

  Jane shook her head. “How can that be? You aren’t responsible for Lydia. Don't be silly.”

  Elizabeth bit her lip. But she knew things about Wickham, and had she shared those with her family, maybe Lydia would have made a different decision. She should have never let George become a Meryton client. She should have stayed focused on her business and less on Darcy and her new uncertainty and fears about finding The One. There was no question Darcy was not the one for her. They were so poorly suited. Even though Anne’s computer program reported the opposite. All one had to do was watch them interact to see the truth. Yet he was the one who showed an interest in her. So far her list of interested men were Darcy and the womanizer Geo Wickham. This did not bode well for the fate of her love life. Not that Darcy was as horrible as Geo, quite the contrary, but regardless, nothing could erase the fact that Darcy's proposal had been despite his misgivings about her family. Infuriating, yes, and there was also a wisp of a thought, negative to its core, reminding her that she was a part of the family he found intolerable. If his misgivings were with them, then wouldn't they also eventually be with her?