by Kristi Rose
Her family. Who needed enemies when she had her relatives? Or herself to be honest. Elizabeth sighed and shifted the bag to her other shoulder. There was no excusing her poor attention to the task at hand, for neglecting her job and putting everyone at risk via George Wickham. The time to take responsibility for her part was now. She wouldn't put it off any longer.
“Lydia did what she did because I really messed up at work. I matched poorly this time, Jane. My instinct for people and what they want and need seems to be off.” Elizabeth snorted with laughter. “Obviously. And had Lydia not been trying to help, we wouldn’t be in this position. We’d likely be in another, and just as bad off.” Elizabeth groaned. “I even told her to handle it. She said there was a problem, and I brushed her off. I was absorbed in my own problems.”
Jane walked a few paces in silence. Then said, “True, perhaps, but there were other ways to handle last night.”
Elizabeth wasn’t so sure. “Can you think of any?” She’d tried and come up short.
“Not off the top of my head, “Jane said.
“There’s the problem. Neither can I. Last night required a quick solution. Not only did Lydia come up with one, but she whipped it together in minutes. No, I can’t be mad at Lydia for the auction.” Elizabeth stopped, turned to Jane, and stomped her foot in frustration. “But I can be mad at her for her actions afterward and today. And I am so very, very mad.”
Jane squeezed her shoulder. “And I’m a little scared, too. For as savvy and worldly as Lydia professes to be, she’s still our little sister, and I’m not sure she’s ready for––”
“The big bad wolf of George Wickham?” Elizabeth felt the same way.
Jane nodded.
“What a mess,” Elizabeth said.
A horn blasted from behind them, and Elizabeth turned to find their mother leaning out of a cab. “Woohoo, girls,” she screeched waving frantically at them. “I’ve been looking for you.”
Elizabeth turned back to Jane. “Mother on the other hand might have been the ember that started this entire firestorm.”
Jane raised her brows and sighed. She grabbed Elizabeth by the elbow and guided her to the curb where the cab had wedged itself.
“Come, come. I’ll give you a ride to the train station. I assume you're headed there.” Joanna Bennet swung the cab door open.
“No, thank you, Mother,” Elizabeth said. “It’s only ten blocks from here. We’d rather walk.”
“Don't be ridiculous, Lizzy. Get in the cab.”
Jane took a step forward, but Elizabeth stopped her. “We can’t mother. You have seen to that. Right now, a large part of our clientele think we hired you to write your piece on us as a publicity stunt. You may have just put us out of business.”
Their mother shrugged. “I was only doing my job, Lizzy.”
Elizabeth crossed her arms. “Yet, you never asked Jane or myself for a statement or comment or anything. Just went about spinning your yarn, using as many colorful threads as possible.”
“I did not lie, Elizabeth. Point to one lie.” Mother pointed a long finger at her.
And therein was the problem, because her mother hadn’t technically lied. Just exaggerated the truth. “You shouldn’t have even been there, Mother. You made it look like we violated our clients’ trust.”
Mother crossed her arms. “You should have had better security. You were lucky it was me and not another tabloid.”
Elizabeth huffed. “What other tabloid cares about us? None. You were there because you knew we would have some higher profile clients. You took advantage of the information we, your daughters, might have shared with their mother and used it as a reporter. Your ethics are highly questionable.” Anger flowed through Elizabeth, and it felt good, familiar instead of the at-odds and confusion she’d been experiencing the last few weeks.
Mother snorted. “Lydia never said the information was off the record.”
Beside her, Jane gasped.
“Well, here you go Mother. This is off the record. Lydia has run off with George Wickham. Disappeared to who knows where. She won’t answer her phone. He won’t answer his. I’m sure that bothers you for all the wrong reasons, like perhaps making you look like you taught your daughter to have loose values? I mean, two of them peddle flesh after all, now another is shacked up with a Hollywood bad boy?” Elizabeth crocked her head to the side. “Something you should know about George Wickham, aside from his poor work ethics, is he also has a history of using and discarding young women, and it looks like your little Lydia is next up.”
Their mother gasped.
Elizabeth put a finger to the corner of her mouth. “I wonder what that will look like. Will he let Lydia work several jobs and support him while he pretends to go on auditions? Maybe he’d convince her to take out loans so he can have money? Maybe they’ll just shack up, and he’ll string her along for a while. What is it you always say? Why buy the cow when you’re getting the milk for free?”
Mother sputtered, a dark pink hue creeping up her neck as she stumbled for words.
Elizabeth cut her off. “What will you say when the tabloids rake Lydia over the coals like they do Wickham?” Elizabeth knew this was the stake to her mother’s cold heart. For all the gossiping Joanna Bennet did, she was a puritan at heart and used those beliefs as a way to brand her articles. She did not believe in sex before marriage or living together. She did not believe in casual dating, her chief complaint about Meryton Matchmakers until last night. The Bennet girls were cautioned and harangued to never give into the sins of the flesh until they were properly married and preferably to someone with a fat wallet. “Money made life easier” was a notion their mother harped on.
Looking pale and shaken, their mother sank back into the cab. “Lydia would never do such a thing. She has goals.”
As if Elizabeth and Jane didn’t. “Yes, well now those goals seem to be centered around George Wickham,” Elizabeth said. She stepped away from the curb. “I’d appreciate it if you’d let me know if you hear from Lydia.” She walked away, and Jane came up alongside her. Together they continued their trek to the train station, both lost in their thoughts.
Yes, her business might be over and she’d eventually come to accept they failed, she failed. Yes, her sister may have fallen into the hands of a master manipulator, and when the day came when Wickham dumped Lydia––and it would most certainly come––there was no guarantee Lydia would overcome the knowledge she had been used and played. Healing a broken heart was never a guarantee. Yes, Darcy had witnessed it all, and if today was any indication, he couldn’t get away from her fast enough. She laughed bitterly, causing Jane to give her a puzzled look. Elizabeth shook her head. If she were to take a guess, she’d feel confident in saying William Darcy was over the moon happy and feeling lucky he'd managed to not get tied into her crazy family. He must feel a tremendous relief.
Seeing his fleeing back was likely the last image she’d have of him unless she caught another grainy photo in a magazine or something.
Why then did those thoughts make her sad?
Chapter Fourteen
Lydia dipped her toe in the pool and decided the handful of bugs and foliage floating on the top layer of the stagnant water would not stop her from getting in. All this blacktop surrounding her made her hot. LA was not like home, and as excited as she was to be in LA, she really missed Meryton. LA was as harsh as the sun and the mass amount of steel and concrete that comprised the city.
Shoulders slumped, Geo sat stoically on the pool ledge beside her. After being caught kissing Geo by everyone, especially Elizabeth, Geo had asked Lydia for her help. He’d confessed to being uncertain about his future and not knowing which direction to go. It was then Lydia, sensing another great opportunity, had convinced him to fly out West and make sure all ties were cut with his agent. Including the power of attorney. Then they planned to find him a new agent.
Lydia plunged both feet in the cool water. The seedy hotel where they were staying didn
’t bother with the expense of heating a pool or cooling a hotel room or even replacing stained and hole-ridden sheets. Don’t get her started on the floors. Yuck. She’d taken pity on George and let him share her bed––with a line of pillows separating them. She wasn’t her mother’s daughter for nothing.
She slowly blew out a breath. “At least we managed to stop him from taking any more of your money.”
“What little is left.”
Yes, Geo was broke. So much so that she was paying for the crappy hotel where they were staying. She’d have gone for something better if she hadn’t bought the plane tickets, too. Financially, she wasn’t much better off, but at least she had a home to go to. Geo, who had lived in hotels instead of taking an apartment, had nowhere. His possessions were small enough to fit into two medium-sized suitcases.
“We need a plan. I know we've been unable to make any appointments with other agents, but is there a different strategy to this? Can we just crash their offices?” Lydia asked. If this is what being blackballed felt like, it royally sucked.
Geo shook his head. “I’m persona non grata here, can’t you tell?” He plunged his feet in the water, too, then kicked out one leg, sending spray across the pool. “I have jacked up my life.” If it was possible, his shoulders slumped even further.
“It’s a speed bump. A hiccup. We will find something else.” It was her nature to be optimistic. She couldn’t help it. Even if she did feel a little like he might be right, only his career was jacked, not his entire life. She racked her brain for a solution. First though, they needed to be honest with each other. More, he needed to be honest with her because she already suspected the root cause for all of Geo’s woes.
She leaned into him, resting her chin on his shoulder. There was something so gentle and soft about Geo Wickham. No, he was not the Hollywood playboy Geo he pretended to be. He was more, deeper than that. He was George with the reluctance to laugh, a distrust of others, and the music that came from his guitar was soulful yet lonely. Something about him begged her to love him. Maybe it was because he so desperately needed kindness. Or maybe it was because, like her, he was misunderstood and misinterpreted. Kindred spirits and all that.
“George,” she whispered. “I’m here to help. I’m not going to bail on you. You know that, right?”
“Lyddie, this is my mess. You should go home. Back to your family and your cushy life.”
Lydia snorted. “Yes, back to working for my sisters while trying to climb the next rung. It’s a great job, but I can see getting stuck in it forever and never, never realizing my potential. You are important to me, too. You are now a part of my life.”
He tilted his head to rest his forehead against hers. “I’m toxic. At some point you’ll wash your hands of me, too.”
That’s when the idea struck her. She mentally calculated how much money was left in her savings and made an action plan. “I have an idea. It’s crazy but it’s sound.”
“Coming here was crazy, but we did it.”
“I’ll become your manager.” She watched his profile closely for a reaction. Geo faked a deep chuckle and then immediately appeared grim again.
“You know nothing about this town, who to talk with or even how to get in the door.”
This time it was Lydia’s turn to laugh. “Please, that’s never stopped me before. I know how to get what I want, George, and my family says I’m tenacious. Yes, it will be hard, but I’m up for the challenge. Just because I don’t know how to do things the way other agents do makes it my advantage. I’ll be different. Fresh. Unique.”
George straightened, flung an arm across her shoulder, and brought her in close. “Lyddie, it still won’t work.”
“Why?” She knew why he was putting her off, but she wanted to see if he’d tell her.
“It just won’t. Even if it works once, doesn’t mean it’ll work a second time. Besides, I have a reputation in this town. You are up against incredible odds, and even if I did get a gig…”
“I can help you with the lines, too,” she said softly.
“It’s more than that.” He stared ahead, his feet unmoving in the water.
She rushed out the words, “I know reading is hard for you, George, but you have incredible memory skills. Amazing actually.” George stiffened and dropped his arm from her shoulder. Never once looking at her, he shook his head, huffed in what she thought might be disbelief, and then stood. He paused a beat and then stomped away.
Lydia sucked in a shaky breath and waited him out. She’d figured this was his deep, dark secret, and she might be one of the few who knew. She had found it odd when he'd refused the cue cards back when they were making a video but suspected it last night when he knew little about the agent's contracts, old and new. Sending the silent bid to him last night had been the final bit of evidence she needed. When the waiter had handed to George the note that started a bid for him at one-hundred-dollars, he'd been clueless. Typically, a seasoned actor like himself would have played an opportunity like that to his benefit, but a person can't do that if they can't read a simple paragraph before them.
Bid for Geo W. One hundred dollars. $25 to each charity. She had written.
Now, as Lydia watched him retreat, she wondered if he'd let her in. George got about fifty yards away and began pacing, all the while mumbling.
When she added the pieces together, being unable to read was the only thing that made sense, and it made her angry people like his agent had taken advantage of the situation.
Though if Darcy knew and treated George the way he did, Lydia was going to have some strong, colorful words for him next time she saw him.
He spun, paused briefly, and then stalked back to face her. When he loomed over her, he said, “Why would you think that? I’m not dumb. I know how to read.”
Slowly, Lydia stood and looked at him. She gave George what she hoped was a matter-of-fact expression. If he even detected sympathy, he’d confuse it with pity. Of this, she was sure.
“I never said you were dumb. In fact, I think the opposite. I think you’re clever and funny. Did you know something like forty-five million adults can’t read? Many have a barrier like dyslexia, or vision-related learning problems, or a learning disability. None of those people are dumb, George. They have a barrier that they haven’t figured out how to overcome.”
Arms crossed, he looked everywhere but at her, over her head, at her feet, at the pool, but finally his gaze flicked to hers. “Forty-five million?”
“Yes. Consider this. If I was your agent, we get you some work, and I help you learn the lines, which should be crazy easy for you because you hear things once and remember it. You can turn your reputation around.” She so wanted to add he could trust her, but she knew in her gut he wasn’t ready to hear that. He’d gone so long not trusting anyone.
“I need to think about it,” he said and let his arms fall to his side.
“Okay, I can live with that. How about we go see what current casting calls are out there and you can think those over, too.”
“If we did this, we’d need some sort of written agreement. I won’t have people say I’m taking advantage of you.” When he smiled at her, like he was now, her heart skipped several beats.
“Of course. But we’ll draft it together.” She smiled back and, unable to restrain herself, flung herself into his arms. His lips found hers a second later, and Lydia forgot all about casting calls and reading problems. She fell into the bliss that was George Wickham and his kisses.
“This is touching,” a voice said from behind her, “but now it’s time to cut the act and behave like adults.”
George stiffened, and Lydia spun around, coming face to face with William Darcy.
Chapter Fifteen
The numbers were dismal. A third of the clients who attended the New York social cancelled their contracts even though they were getting a free month. In contrast, close to a third of the auction participants were very pleased with their bids and consequent pairing and wer
e moving on to second dates. This left the remaining clients undecided. Because of the article, clients who were slotted for the next social in a city hundreds of miles away from New York were cancelling.
Elizabeth dropped her head to her desk and tried to take a deep breath.
“It will work out Lizzy,” Jane said.
“Of course, it will,” she answered. If by “work out” Jane meant they would find other jobs doing something they loved and wouldn’t starve or go bankrupt. Elizabeth tried not to worry about her mortgage, though she did kick herself for buying instead of renting. What had she been thinking with all that responsibility? Lydia was off to who knows where doing who knows what and, right at this moment, Elizabeth thought that sounded lovely. Being carefree must be nice.
For now, Elizabeth would focus on her breathing and not dwell on how awkward it was to see Darcy or why he was always with Caroline Bingley. Or worse yet, the look of horror on his face the last time he saw her. When she told him about Lydia and Wickham. What must he think of her now? As if she needed to provide him with more evidence that he was correct in his assumptions about her family.
Elizabeth heard footsteps, and a pair of tie-dyed sketchers attached to long legs stopped at the edge of her desk. Elizabeth need not look up since she knew to whom they belonged. “Any word yet, Anne?”
For two days Anne had been using her wizard-like computer skills to try to find Lydia. “No, she cleaned out most of her account here, and there have been no charges on her credit card as of yet. I’m sorry.”
