Darcy pulled out his phone and called up the In the Shadows production staff list. “I think there is,” he told Raoul. “Change in plans. Can you take me to 1515 Oak Terrace?”
They arrived within an hour, not bad for rush-hour in L.A. traffic. When Darcy knocked, Tom Bennet came to his front door wearing rumpled clothing and a puzzled expression. But he gave Darcy an amiable smile and had no objection to welcoming him in for a chat. Darcy didn’t linger; the Bennets were due to leave for the hospital soon.
However, Darcy was heartened by the results of the half-hour visit and hoped some good would come from it.
Chapter Fifteen
Elizabeth had a whirlwind two days in Baltimore. She interviewed with the director of the program, who seemed very impressed with her knowledge and experience, toured the facilities at Johns Hopkins, met with current interns, and enjoyed catching up with Denise. The internship itself seemed like a great opportunity to learn and keep her skills sharp, and it might give her a leg up on getting into Johns Hopkins medical school. There was no downside, except that she was unsure if she wanted to move to Baltimore.
Will didn’t call the first night as expected. Eventually she called him, but it went straight to voicemail. Her texts went unanswered. Finally, she got a text, but from Charlie: Darcy says he dropped his phone into the swimming pool. He’s sorry. He will try to call or text when he gets a new phone. Elizabeth chuckled and swallowed her disappointment. She would see him again in two days; it wasn’t a big deal.
When she still hadn’t heard from him at the end of the next day, she tried to ignore prickles of uneasiness. He probably hadn’t gotten the new phone yet. The last thing she wanted was to look like a clingy girlfriend, particularly when she didn’t even know if they were at the girlfriend/boyfriend stage yet. Finally around midnight, she got an apologetic text from Darcy explaining that he had been doing interviews all day and still couldn’t free up some time to talk. The message allowed her to breathe a sigh of relief, but it wasn’t the same as hearing his voice.
During the plane ride back to California her thoughts swung wildly between extremes. One minute she was reassuring herself that she was being silly and the next she was worried that their relationship was over before it had begun.
She didn’t even know where she would sleep that night. Since she was still persona non grata with her family, she would probably need to beg Charlotte for a spot on her sofa again. The sensible course would be to sit down for a heart-to-heart with Jane. Elizabeth knew they could work out any difficulties, but she was exhausted and couldn’t imagine having the energy for such a conversation.
I should have stayed in Baltimore.
At LAX, Elizabeth pulled her suitcase past the baggage carousel toward the exit; she hadn’t checked any luggage, so she could just hop in a taxi. Concentrating on the logistics of the journey helped her forget any fantasies she might have had about Will showing up to surprise her.
A few yards from the exit, she jerked to a stop.
Her parents were standing in the middle of the concourse with tentative smiles on their faces. Elizabeth blinked, sure that she had mistaken them for someone else; but no, it was definitely her parents. How was that possible? She had emailed her flight information to Jane but hadn’t even told her parents she was going to Baltimore.
Her heart clenched. Had Lydia taken a turn for the worse? No, her parents were definitely smiling, although with a tinge of anxiety.
Elizabeth approached them warily. Ordinarily she’d hug them in greeting, but given the way they had last parted, she didn’t know where she stood with them. “Why are you here? Did something happen to Lydia?”
Her mother had tears in her eyes, but she smiled. “No, Lydia’s great. The doctors think she might walk in four weeks. I’ve started scheduling some auditions for her. She needs to get back on the horse. Except”—she put a finger to her lips—“I don’t know if Lydia will be able to ride a horse! I’ll have to ask the doctor.”
“Everyone is fine. Everyone except you, apparently,” her father added. “Recently we’ve been made aware that we judged you rather precipitously and harshly.”
“We’re so sorry!” Her mother lunged forward to hug Elizabeth, who allowed the air to be compressed from her lungs for a full minute before gently disengaging.
They were sorry? Part of Elizabeth wanted to turn cartwheels down the concourse, but part of her wondered if she had fallen asleep on the airplane and was dreaming. She wasn’t even sure how to respond. “It’s okay.” She patted her mother’s hand. “I mean, you were distraught over Lydia—”
Her father shook his head. “We shouldn’t have blamed you.”
Tears sprang to Elizabeth’s eyes. “It’s okay, Dad. I could have done more to stop George. You’re not wrong.”
“You did try to warn Lydia, didn’t you?” her mother asked.
“Yeah.”
“She doesn’t take direction well,” her mother tutted. “But it’s what makes her such a fine actress; she always listens to her instincts.”
Tom Bennet frowned. “I liked George Wickham, too. He’s a smooth operator. I even encouraged Lydia to spend time with him.” He wiped tears from the corners of his eyes.
Her mother shook her head sadly. “But Lydia is such a trusting soul. So innocent…”
“Obviously Wickham has been scamming people for years, and he doesn’t care who gets hurt,” her father said. “We couldn’t expect you to know his history or stop him. I’m sorry, Lizzy. We really didn’t know what was going on with him, and we jumped to some conclusions.”
“It’s okay.” Elizabeth closed the short distance between them and pulled her parents into a three-way hug. “What did you mean by you’ve been ‘made aware’? Who made you aware?”
“It was Will. Will Darcy.” Her mother gave her a watery smile.
“He came to the house and, well, gave us hell for the way we had treated you,” her father said.
“Will?” Elizabeth’s heart soared. Maybe Will did care about her. Maybe his silence didn’t mean anything. God, not knowing what was happening with him was giving her emotional whiplash.
“He laid out his whole history with Wickham, what happened with his sister, and how his parents covered up that bastard’s misdeeds.” Her father’s entire body tensed. “He certainly has a pattern of being cavalier with other people’s lives.”
“I hope we can find him and hold him accountable,” Elizabeth said.
“Darcy said he’s planning to hire a private investigator to search for the guy,” her father said. Then he put an arm around Elizabeth’s shoulder. “Now, what do you say? Let’s grab a taxi and go out for dinner. I’d like to hear about what you were up to in Baltimore.”
***
After dinner with her parents, Elizabeth returned to her apartment. She had barely managed to get her suitcase through the doorway before Jane flew into her arms. “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! I’m a terrible sister!”
Elizabeth hugged Jane to her chest. “No, you aren’t. It’s okay.”
“But you’ve been avoiding me! Avoiding coming home.”
Elizabeth sank onto the sofa. “I’ve been avoiding everyone—the entire family. And I didn’t want to put you in the middle.”
Jane dabbed at her eyes with a tissue. “You should let me worry about that.”
“And it’s hard to shake the sense that I have some responsibility for what happened to Lydia.”
Jane sat beside her and rubbed her back. “Oh, honey, it’s not your fault. Mom and Dad were wrong to make you feel that way.”
“I’m trying to believe that.”
Tears dripped down Elizabeth’s cheeks while Jane enfolded her in a hug. “I never want to go that long without talking to you again. It was horrible!”
“Yeah, it was.” Finally, Elizabeth sat up and wiped her eyes. “We need to talk about something else or I’ll never stop crying.”
“Okay, young lady,” Jane said with mock solemnity. “
Then you can tell me how the hell William Darcy got involved in all this.”
Oh Lord. Elizabeth didn’t know how her sister would react to the latest news. She pulled a couple of tissues from the box and wiped her face. “He…um…found me at the bar the night of the premiere.”
“What bar?”
“At the theater.”
“You were there?”
“The movie is going to be huge. You were awesome.”
Jane frowned. “Why didn’t you tell me you were there?” Elizabeth gave her a look. “Okay, stupid question.”
“I watched most of it from the back of the theater…until Lydia’s part. Seeing her whole and healthy and delivering lines about meatloaf, well, it was just too much for me. I spent the rest of the movie at the bar feeling sorry for myself.”
Jane’s hand flew to her mouth. She knew what a lightweight drinker her sister was.
“Yeah, I got totally smashed. Blotto. The works. Darcy didn’t want to leave me alone, so he took me to his house, which is fabulous by the way, like an Architectural Digest wet dream.”
Jane’s eyes grew round. “He took advantage while you were—”
“No, no!” Elizabeth waved her hands in denial. “He was a perfect gentleman…well…then.”
“Oho!” Jane chortled. “Did he make a move later?”
Elizabeth nodded. “The next morning, when I was sober.”
Jane squealed. “Did you boink like bunnies?”
“The whole weekend, until I went to Baltimore.” Elizabeth couldn’t help smiling at the memory.
Jane tapped her lip thoughtfully. “I will admit that I always thought you two had chemistry, but I also thought you didn’t like him.”
Elizabeth gave a rueful shrug. “Yeah, I thought I didn’t either. It’s kind of complicated.” She gave her sister a quick summary of everything that had happened between her and Will. “He was so sweet. He apologized for what he said before and…he really cares, you know?”
Jane nodded.
Elizabeth deflated. “Or at least I thought he did. We texted a little while I was away, but then I came home, and I haven’t heard anything from him. He knew I was returning today.”
“Maybe he’s away?”
“He didn’t say anything about traveling.”
Jane mustered a smile. “I’m sure it doesn’t mean anything. You’ll probably get a call in an hour.”
Elizabeth shrugged. “Even if he doesn’t, we had a fabulous weekend. He made me feel better about myself, got me out of my funk. I-I thought he wanted more, but maybe I was wrong. Or maybe he changed his mind. And that’s okay, right? He didn’t promise me anything.” I sound like I’m trying to convince myself. Elizabeth slumped back against the sofa. “I shouldn’t want to date a Hollywood heartthrob anyway. Too public. Too much ego. Too many fans. It would be a nightmare.”
Jane didn’t respond. Yeah, she doesn’t believe me any more than I do.
Then Jane shook her head. “But he spent so much time pursuing you. It doesn’t make sense that he’d just give up.”
Elizabeth pulled her knees up to her chest. “Maybe he’s just one of those guys who gets turned on by the pursuit. I’m sure not many women say no to him; I was a challenge.” Her voice shook a little, and she swallowed.
Maybe he really wasn’t the guy I thought he was. I wanted to believe he wasn’t another Hollywood jerkwad, but that was probably just me deluding myself. I was getting him confused with Thorne—projecting the idealized, nonexistent self-sacrificing hero onto a real person. Never a good idea.
Elizabeth was in danger of waterworks again. Time to change the subject. “How are things going with Ricky?”
Jane’s face lit up. “Great. We—” Her phone chirped, and she glanced down at the display. “Speak of the devil. Hi, Honey! What are you up to?” Jane wore a smile Elizabeth only saw when she talked to Ricky. It’s good, she told herself. One of us should be lucky in love.
Her sister’s expression sobered immediately. “Hold on; I’m getting the remote.” She hurried to the coffee table, peering at Elizabeth over her shoulder. “Ricky says we should turn on ZNN. I’m putting him on speakerphone.”
The screen flickered to life. A perky blonde reporter stood in front of a tall modern apartment building.
“Yes, Chuck,” she said in a crisp journalist voice. “This is one of L.A.’s ritziest condo buildings, but today the residents were in for a surprise. The neighbors say William Darcy was taken from his apartment approximately six hours ago by the police. We’ve confirmed that he’s at the police station, but we don’t know if he’s been arrested.” The chyron at the bottom of the screen read: Actor William Darcy questioned in connection with drug-related car crash.
Elizabeth inhaled. “Is this about the Palm Springs incident?” she said loudly enough for Ricky to hear. “That was more than a year ago.”
Ricky’s voice came through the speakerphone, hollow and echoey. “No, these are new charges. Apparently a witness came forward who identified him fleeing the scene.”
This didn’t make sense. She knew Will didn’t use drugs. “Fleeing what scene?”
Ricky hesitated for a minute. “The crash that nearly killed Lydia. They’re saying that Darcy was driving.”
***
Burton Prescott III was waiting for Darcy when he emerged from the interrogation room. Without a word, he guided Darcy to a small room where they could speak unobserved. The police officers had said they weren’t planning to arrest him—yet. But they clearly were itching to do so. They had landed a big Hollywood star and were practically salivating over the publicity such a high-profile arrest would bring them.
Tall and paunchy with a fringe of dark hair, Burton was the Darcy family’s attorney. Darcy credited his lawyering with getting him out of the drug and reckless driving charges from Palm Springs. “You shouldn’t have talked to them without me there,” Burton grumbled as he closed the door behind them. They settled at a battered wooden table.
Darcy straightened the sleeves of his dress shirt. “I don’t have anything to hide, Burton. Do you know what their supposed evidence is?”
“They have a witness who says he saw you get out of the car after the crash and run away. He made a positive ID.”
Darcy rested his head in his hand. This was surreal. A couple of hours ago he had been in his condo, recovering from two days of nonstop promotion for In the Shadows, and his biggest concern had been trying to get in touch with Elizabeth.
Then the police had knocked on the door. He had been stunned, but he could see how the facts would line up in their minds: he knew Lydia, he had been arrested for drug possession, he had crashed a car before. It was all too plausible.
“Why did it take him until now to say anything?”
“He claims he feared retribution.”
Darcy snorted.
“Yeah, I know. It’s not like you’re all mobbed up. I’ll have someone check out his story. What did you tell the cops?”
Darcy slumped in his chair. “I told them I didn’t do anything. I’ve never been in a car with Lydia Bennet. I’m not even sure I had a private conversation with her.”
“What did you tell them about that day?”
Darcy gritted his teeth. Burton was going to hate this. “I had a TV appearance in the morning, but I was home the rest of the day.”
“Alone?”
Darcy had cursed when he’d seen which day they were talking about. He almost never spent a full afternoon and evening at home. Why couldn’t it have been some day when he was out shopping or shooting a scene? “Yeah.”
Burton scratched notes on a pad. “So you don’t have an alibi, and it’s theoretically possible that you met up with Lydia Bennet?”
“Yeah, I suppose so, but why would I do that? I don’t particularly like her. And why would I drive her car? If she needed to go home, I would have put her in a taxi.”
Burton rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, I get that, but I don’t like that we c
an’t account for all of your time.”
“I can account for it,” Darcy said testily. “I just don’t have witnesses.”
Burton cursed under his breath, muttering something about obstinate clients. Darcy didn’t respond. He paid Burton well to deal with his idiosyncrasies.
“They have an eyewitness. You have priors,” Burton growled.
“I have every faith in your legal prowess.”
The lawyer rolled his eyes and pushed his chair back from the table. “Fine, fine. I’ll see if I can turn lead into gold for you.”
“There was a driver who took me back to Pemberley after lunch; unfortunately, my regular guy was off that day, so it was a substitute driver from a service. I don’t remember his name. But he didn’t stay at Pemberley, so he wouldn’t be able to say I was there all day.”
Burton made another note. “All right, it’s something. Give me the name of the service, and I’ll see if we can find the guy.”
“There’s one more thing,” Darcy said. “I’m pretty sure the person who was driving the car was our friend, George Wickham.”
“Son of a bitch!” Burton exploded. He’d helped the Darcys through legal trouble with Wickham before.
“Yeah. That’s who the Bennets think it was. Well, who they thought it was…” Damn, it hurt to say those words aloud. Had all the press coverage changed their minds? Reporters were probably clustered on their doorstep demanding a statement from Tom. What would he say? What was Elizabeth thinking? “But Wickham disappeared, and they don’t have any evidence that he was there.”
“All right, I’ll have an investigator beat the bushes for Wickham. We’ll see if the police got any fingerprints off the car. I have to tell you, Will, after the Palm Springs incident, this looks pretty bad. The police are going to be inclined to think it’s you, and they’re not going to search for another suspect.”
Darcy rubbed his hands over his face. “I know. Let’s hope we can find Wickham.”
Darcy in Hollywood Page 23
