A Good Name: A Modern Pride and Prejudice Variation

by Sarah Courtney

  He’d get beaten up for the name, he was sure. Fitzwilliam. Sounded like some ritzy restaurant or, well, like the last name that it was. But . . .

  “Fitzwilliam George Darcy, then,” he said firmly. “It’s perfect.”

  Her eyes widened. “Oh, George, I didn’t really mean that you had to use it!” But he could see her hand shaking as she covered her mouth. He was making her cry, but cry in a good way, he knew.

  He was satisfied. “I know. But I’d like to. That way I’m named for both of you. But, uh, maybe people can just call me Will?”

  Fitting In

  August 2002

  The adoption would take quite some time to process, but in the meantime, the Darcys decided to start using Will’s new name for most purposes. He was still legally George Wickham, so he would continue to use George at school once it started up again. But the Darcys and their extended family called him “Will.” It took him a few days to train his ear to listen for it, but every time he felt a frisson of delight. A new name, a new home, a new self. Someday he would truly be able to leave George Wickham in the past.

  Mrs. Darcy’s family visited often during the summer, as the families were close. Mr. Fitzwilliam was Mrs. Darcy’s brother, of course, but he was also close friends with Mr. Darcy.

  The second time the Fitzwilliams came to visit that summer, Richard and Will were quickly shooed outside.

  “Go play!” Mrs. Darcy said with a hopeful smile. She and Mrs. Fitzwilliam were both so eager for the boys to make friends that Will didn’t dare tell her what Richard was really like.

  “Stop following me!” Richard said as soon as they were out of earshot. He tossed a rubber ball into the air and caught it, not making eye contact with Will.

  “I’m supposed to follow you,” Will said.

  “Ri-ight. They said, ‘Go follow Richard around like a little brat, did they?’”

  Will shrugged.

  Richard picked up a stick and trailed it along as he headed into the strip of woods between the south pasture and the creek. “Go bug Edward or something. He deserves it.”

  Will picked up his own stick.

  “Did you hear me?” Richard said. When Will didn’t respond, he yelled, “Think fast!” and threw the rubber ball right at Will’s face.

  Will didn’t think fast enough, it seemed, because the ball hit him hard just below his eye. It immediately started to water, but being hit in the face by another boy was nothing new to Will. He tossed the ball back to Richard.

  Richard raised an eyebrow, then turned and stalked off.

  Will sighed. Yep, Richard hated him. He couldn’t go back to the house, but he wasn’t about to try to follow Richard into the woods with what was sure to be a spectacular black eye. He climbed up the rocks instead and waited until he saw Richard returning to the house.

  “What happened to your eye?” Mrs. Fitzwilliam exclaimed when he walked in behind Richard.

  Will bit his lip. “We were playing catch. I wasn’t fast enough.”

  She glared at Richard. “Take it easy on him next time, will you? He hasn’t had all of your advantages.”

  Will cringed. Right, because that kind of thing was going to help.

  The next time Richard visited, Will was prepared. He had made a lean-to in the woods near where Richard was always going and had asked Mr. Darcy to hang a rope out over the creek. Richard still left Will behind, but Will caught up with him at the lean-to.

  “What’s this?” Richard asked, pushing on it with one foot.

  Will had tried to mentally prepare himself for Richard destroying it or ridiculing it, but it was still nerve-wracking to tell him about it. “It’s a lean-to. I read about it in a book called My Side of the Mountain.”

  “What’s it for?”

  “Shelter. Like for camping if you don’t have a tent.”

  Richard ducked inside. It wasn’t much, really, as Will wasn’t sure he’d done very well with the waterproofing. It was cool in the shade and would probably keep the wind out if it were a cold day. Maybe.

  “It’s cool,” Richard said. He came back out. “It’s all branches?”

  “Yeah, sticks and brush and stuff. I used some mud to try to get in the cracks.”

  Richard twisted his mouth, then walked towards the creek. He saw the rope swing almost immediately. “This your idea?” he asked.

  Will nodded.

  “It’s pretty cool.” Richard pulled on it a bit. “You jumped in yet?”

  “Nah. Just got it up yesterday.” To prepare for Richard’s visit, but Will wasn’t about to admit that.

  “Yeah, okay.” He looked thoughtful, then he suddenly sat down and started unlacing his shoes.

  “Whatcha doing?” Will asked.

  “What’s it look like?” Richard gave him a withering look. His shoes and socks off, he stood up and stripped off his shirt, tossing it onto the pile of clothes. He took a running leap, grabbed the rope, swung out over the creek, and let loose. The splash was enormous.

  Will made quick work of taking off his own shoes and shirt and trying the swing himself. The cold water was a shock, and he came up sputtering and laughing.

  They swung repeatedly off the swing until they heard Mrs. Darcy call, “Boys! Come in for dinner!”

  They looked at each other guilty. The water at the edge of the creek was muddy and covered in green pond scum. It wasn’t possible to get out of the creek without getting covered in muck.

  As Will had anticipated, Mrs. Fitzwilliam had pursed her lips and looked quite displeased with Richard’s state upon returning to the house. She didn’t say anything in front of Will, but he had a feeling that Richard got an earful in private. He almost felt guilty but not really.

  Will had to bite his tongue to avoid laughing when, the next time the Fitzwilliams came for a visit, Richard had a buzz cut. He’d had his own hair cut short, too, at Mrs. Darcy’s suggestion. He wasn’t sure how much of it was because of the summer’s heat and how much was because she was sick of all the crap he got in it when playing outside.

  Will no longer minded the Fitzwilliams’ frequent visits. He’d once thought that Richard could never be a friend, but he’d been wrong. Richard was his very best friend—other than the Darcys, of course.

  In fact, Richard reminded George a bit of Lizzy. It was funny how Richard was so different from Mrs. Darcy, and yet both had a bit of Lizzy in them. Mrs. Darcy was Lizzy’s sunshine, all bright and sweet. Richard was Lizzy’s mischief and spirit of adventure.

  Richard’s older brother, Edward, came over with him sometimes. He was fifteen, though, and was almost always texting his girlfriend or playing computer games on his laptop. He rolled his eyes at the two of them and never willingly set foot outdoors.

  But Richard much preferred to be outside, and he still liked to play, even at the ripe age of thirteen. Once he’d accepted Will, he was perfectly happy to include books into their repertoire of games, as long as they were dangerous enough. Nothing was interesting enough to Richard unless there were weapons of some sort involved. The Count of Monte Cristo was his particular favorite, even if he’d only ever seen the movie.

  Richard even liked playing The Sign of the Beaver, and he was happy to play Attean since he got to use a bow and arrows. Unlike Will, Richard was eager to go hunting.

  “Let’s catch a squirrel!” he said eagerly. “I bet that book tells you how to cook one over a fire.”

  “We’re not allowed to make a fire ourselves,” Will felt compelled to point out. “We’ll get into trouble.”

  “You’re a spoilsport,” Richard said, sticking out his tongue like a toddler.

  Will rolled his eyes and folded his arms. “I don’t want to start a wildfire!”

  “That’s only something that happens out west. It’s too wet in Virginia.”

  Will wondered if that were true. He’d have to look it up later.

  In the end, once he and Richard separated with their handmade bows to hunt for squirrels, Will circled back to th
e house. All the adults were hanging out in the kitchen together, but he got Mr. Darcy’s attention and pulled him into another room to ask about the fire.

  He was surprised when Mr. Darcy laughed. “Tell you what, son,” he said. “If you or Richard manage to kill a squirrel with those bows of yours, I’ll supervise a fire so you can cook it, too. Hopefully the Internet knows how to skin a squirrel, because I sure don’t.”

  There was no campfire that night. But, the next week, Mr. Darcy bought a fire pit, and on the next visit, Will and Richard roasted marshmallows and ate s’mores. There never were any squirrels, though.

  September 2002

  It was strange going back to being called “George” at school, once it began in September. It was even stranger going back to the same school now that he was living with the Darcys. Going to and from school felt like passing back and forth between his old life and his new. At school, he was the same old George Wickham, if wearing nicer clothes. He smirked to see how his teachers reacted to his new, unstained, preppy clothes on the first day of school. They could clearly tell that something had changed but didn’t know what.

  “I came home with a headache from school today,” Will announced as he scooped some peas from the bowl his mother held for him at dinner.

  “Oh?” Mrs. Darcy raised an eyebrow. Will looked at Mr. Darcy, but so far he seemed focused on cutting his own pot roast.

  He shrugged. “Yeah, the bus is always so loud, from the kids and the bumps in the road and such. It always gives me a headache.” He put the serving spoon back in the bowl. “Makes it hard to enjoy my time after school and get homework done and all that. Plus, I don’t think taking ibuprofen every day is good for my liver.”

  Mrs. Darcy snorted.

  “You’re not getting your driver’s license until you’re sixteen, so you might as well give up now,” Mr. Darcy said.

  “Don’t need a driver’s license to ride my bike to school. They even have racks for you to lock your bike! Lots of kids ride to school.”

  “Lots of kids live within a mile or so,” Mr. Darcy said calmly.

  “It’s only a little over three miles,” Will protested. “That’s nothing on a bike! I’d barely break a sweat.”

  Mr. Darcy frowned and took a bite of his potatoes. Will waited anxiously. He knew Mr. Darcy was thinking. He had to agree, he just had to.

  “We’ll take a bike ride together on Saturday,” Mr. Darcy said finally. “We’ll see how you do.”

  Will bit his bottom lip to avoid squealing like a girl. “Okay, Mr. Darcy,” he said once he was sure he could sound cool. “Sounds good.”

  Saturday couldn’t come soon enough. Saturday morning, he was awakened when his alarm went off at the usual time for school.

  “Ugh, do we have to do it this early? It’s Saturday morning!” he said, rolling over and burying his face under the pillow.

  “You’ll wake up at 6:30 to ride to school on weekdays,” Mr. Darcy said, his muffled voice sounding amused. “I thought we might as well practice now.”

  “Now you’re just being cruel,” Will groaned, but he took the pillow off his face and got up. He wasn’t going to risk losing the chance to ride his bike to school even if it did mean getting up at a ridiculous hour for a Saturday.

  Mr. Darcy’s bike was new and shiny and looked as if it had rarely been ridden. Will’s bike was spattered with mud and had quite a few scrapes along the side from when he had been learning to ride. It was sad, a little, because it had been cool-looking when it was new and shiny like Mr. Darcy’s. At the same time, Will liked that it looked like it had been ridden hard.

  Will went to mount his bike, but Mr. Darcy shook his head. “Where’s your backpack?”

  Will sighed. “I’ll get it.” He grabbed his backpack from the hook near the door and hurried back out. It was full of books, but that was probably what Mr. Darcy intended. It probably wasn’t a bad idea to practice the ride with his backpack on, anyway.

  Once they were both ready to go, Mr. Darcy gestured. “Lead the way.”

  Will swallowed and nodded. He was glad that he’d spent the time researching the route in order to convince his parents to let him do it. He pedaled off along the route he’d chosen. It avoided the busiest highways and utilized a few shorter bike routes along the way, although at least one busy crossing was inevitable. He dutifully got off his bike and waited at the pedestrian crossing until it was his turn to cross.

  It took less than fifteen minutes, including the wait for the crossing, until he was gliding into the school’s parking lot. He stopped his bike at the bike rack and looked expectantly at Mr. Darcy.

  Mr. Darcy nodded. “Good. Let’s take a breather and then you can show me the way back.”

  Will grinned. He didn’t need a breather, but Mr. Darcy probably did. After all, Will’s bike wasn’t dirty and banged up for nothing!

  When Mr. Darcy was ready, Will led the way home again. Even though there really wasn’t anything particularly challenging about the ride, he still breathed a sigh of relief when he pulled into the driveway without any mishaps. It was always a bit nerve-wracking when somebody was watching and judging him, even if he was doing something easy.

  He pulled his bike into the garage and slid it into its space, putting his helmet on its hook and pulling off his backpack. The release of weight from his shoulders felt good.

  “Well?” he asked when Mr. Darcy did the same a moment later.

  “What would you do if you had a flat tire?” Mr. Darcy asked.

  Will thought. “I could . . . walk the bike home? Or, don’t they make tire-changing kits that I could use on the road? Or . . . if I had a cell phone, I could call Mrs. Darcy for a ride,” he added slyly.

  Mr. Darcy laughed. “For once, that argument might work.”

  Will shook a mental fist in triumph. “A cell phone? Really?”

  “Really,” Mr. Darcy said. “You need to keep it with you, charged and on, every time you leave our property. Then if there’s a problem, you can call Mrs. Darcy and let her know.”

  “Right. So, I can do it?” Will bounced on the balls of his feet, waiting.

  “You can do it,” Mr. Darcy said. “Ride on the route you showed me, not on the highway. Take that intersection on foot just like you did today. You still need to come straight home, no going off to visit friends without permission. Show me I can trust you, and I’ll let you keep doing it.”

  Will bounced happily. “Yes! Thank you, Mr. Darcy! Thank you!” He paused. “Can I sometimes stop by 7-11 and get a Slurpee or something on the way home? It wouldn’t take me long at all, and it’s right on my route!”

  Mr. Darcy chuckled. “Once or twice a month, no more.”

  Yes! Independence was his at least. And Slurpees!

  December 2002

  Will had been asked to make a Christmas wish list once, back when he had been George Wickham. He’d gotten on the list of a local charity, and they had asked his mother to make a wish list of gifts for the holiday.

  He had asked for an X-Men action figure and a pair of superhero pajamas. He had gotten both. It had, until he met Lizzy, been the best Christmas of his life.

  “A soccer ball and cleats?” Mrs. Darcy read aloud from his list.

  Will nodded. Was there something wrong with asking for something that he wouldn’t use much until the spring?

  “Wasn’t there a LEGO set that you were looking at?” she asked.

  Will nodded. But he had LEGOs already, and if he had a soccer ball, he could kick it around with Mr. Darcy. He’d always heard of kids playing ball with their dads. Besides, he’d thought it might be cool to play on a team someday. He’d played a lot of soccer at recess.

  “Why don’t you write the name of it down on your list?” She handed the list back to him.

  He nodded, puzzled. So the soccer ball was out. He wasn’t sure why. The LEGO set would be cool, too. He crossed out the ball and cleats a bit sadly but wrote the name of the LEGO set on the paper and handed it back.


  Mrs. Darcy frowned. “Why did you cross off the soccer gear?”

  Now Will was completely confused. “Because you said to put the LEGOs on instead.”

  “Oh, Will,” she said, ruffling his hair. He lifted a hand to smooth it out but pulled it back at the last minute. He didn’t want to hurt her feelings. “Will, you’re allowed to put more than one thing on your list. That’s why it’s a list.”

  “Cleats are expensive. So are LEGOs,” he said, trying not to get his hopes up too much. “Like, a lot.”

  She gave him a one-armed hug. “We can afford to spoil you a bit, especially for your first Christmas with us. You could even go for broke and add a third item to the list if you wanted.” She grinned, and he couldn’t help grinning back.

  He carefully rewrote the ball and cleats again on the line above the crossed-out line. He wanted to make sure they were first, just in case they looked over their budget after all and had to choose.

  “Oh, I had been meaning to ask you. What about going over to the shelter with me this weekend? We’re decorating for Christmas.”

  Will froze. Mrs. Darcy had asked him a few times about coming back over to the shelter with her. The Darcys went a couple of evenings a week and on Sunday afternoons, and he knew it bothered them that he always stayed home.

  He felt cold inside at the thought of going back there. His mouth went dry, and the very thought made him sick to his stomach.

  When he didn’t answer right away, Mrs. Darcy went on.

  “It’s Christmas, Will! Don’t you think it would be nice to help out at Christmas?” He had felt like Scrooge saying no, and maybe he was being an ungrateful brat, but he just couldn’t do it.

  He tried to swallow but couldn’t. There was no way he was getting that baseball glove now, not when they were probably mad at him for not going with them.

  “You could bring Richard,” she added.