Pride's Prejudice
by Misty Dawn Pulsipher
Copyright © 2013 by Misty Dawn Pulsipher
Cover design by Cindy Canizales
Cover photo by Shutterstock
ISBN-13: 978-1484917848
ISBN-10: 1484917847
"It is particularly incumbent on those who never change their opinion, to be secure of judging properly at first."
~Elizabeth Bennet, Pride & Prejudice
PROLOGUE
"Preserve yourself from first love…..and you need not fear a second."
~Jane Austen's Juvenilia
She blinks, trying to clear the gauzy film from her eyes. When she scrubs her fingertips across her eyelids, the blur only thickens. She sits up quickly, regretting it at once. Her head pulses painfully and the room tilts sideways. Hoping the counter pressure will ease the throbbing, she splays her hands across her skull. When she opens her eyes a few moments later, her heartbeat quickens.
Casting her mind back through layers of fog, she tries to remember something - anything - about how she ended up here…….
The pressure of his hand on the small of her back was comforting. Faces swam in and out of her path, but none she recognized. She shrank into herself, trying to press further into the flat of his hand. There wasn't a time when he hadn't been there.
He led her to a couch, upholstered in a sickly shade of seventies gold. "This is Johnny and Hal," he said, gesturing to the strangers.
She smiled uncertainly as her new acquaintances waved lazily from the shabby sofa.
"They won't hurt you," he murmured against her hair, as if reading her thoughts. "I'll be right back with some drinks."
She shivered at the brush of his lips against her ear. When he left her side she suddenly felt small and unsteady. A tiny boat, anchorless in a chaotic ocean.
Hal patted the sofa next to him, and she swallowed down revulsion at the thought of being near him. The air was thick with the scent of body odor and alcohol. Sitting down, she sandwiched her hands between her knees to keep them from trembling.
The tightness in her chest dissipated when he returned several minutes later, a clear plastic cup in each hand. He handed her the dark, fizzy one with a cherry bobbing on the surface, keeping the amber one for himself. She sniffed experimentally at her own drink as he sat next to her.
"Don't worry," he chuckled. "I know you don't want to drink - don't I always take care of you?" He brushed a tendril of hair back from her cheek, securing it behind her ear.
Of course he would. He always had. She snuggled into the crook of his arm, feeling less small, less lost.
As she sipped her eyes met his, which were brighter than usual.
"I love you," he confessed, in a ragged voice - as if he could barely contain the emotion.
It was the first time he'd said the words. The first time anyone had spoken those words to her, romantically, at least. A geyser of happiness erupted within her. This feeling was a worthy prize for coming here tonight. He kissed her gently, but she could tell it was difficult for him to be so careful. His mouth tasted slightly bitter, and the geyser faltered a bit. So, he wasn't drinking Ginger ale. Of course she had known. But she'd been hoping she was wrong.
"I love you, too," she said as she pulled away, and she meant it. Drinking deeply from her own cup, she tried to rinse away the taste.
He watched her with icy cool eyes as she drained her cup.
……..A single tear glides down her cheek, the prequel to an oncoming deluge. A sick feeling laces through her insides like a parasite. It takes up residence in the dark recesses of her heart and mind. Could he have possibly done this to her? Was he, the love of her life, capable of using and discarding her like this? The glimmering castle of her girlhood hopes burns down, leaving a heap of smoldering ash in its place.
~ PART ONE ~
ANNOUNCEMENTS
"….let me have only the company of the people I love, let me only be where I like and with whom I like, and the devil take the rest, say I."
~Jane Austen
The insistent beep of his i-phone interrupted his business call. He pulled the device away from his ear long enough to see the number flashing impatiently on the screen. He didn't usually "click" over, especially when he was working - but he always answered for her. The trouble was, the client on the line didn't seem to be on board with his familial priorities, and the call was far from over. His irritation welled up and peaked as she gave up and her call died off. Several minutes later he was able to slip smoothly out of the conversation with his client, pledging to put something together on his end and follow up in a few days.
Running a hand through his already tousled hair, he sat heavily on his bed. He had known working from "home" so to speak would be tricky, but what did you do when your only real friend in the world was in over his head on his latest home makeover? You took whatever vacation days you had left, flew across the country, and installed yourself in the spare bedroom with your laptop.
When he dialed her back, she answered with a quavering voice, and her nose sounded stuffy.
"It's a girl," she announced tearfully.
He paused, dumbfounded, clueless how to answer. "You had another ultrasound?"
"She decided to cooperate this time," she sniffed, voice subdued yet strained as she tried to laugh.
Nothing about this was funny.
"I've been thinking of names……."
"Sis," he chided, wincing at the reprimanding tone of his voice. He hadn't meant to react that way.
"I know," she acknowledged with remorse.
He adjusted his tone, softened it. "Have you thought about our talk?"
As she sobbed quietly, something sharp twisted in his ribs. He absolutely hated it when she cried. A long silence passed, filled with the sounds of her efforts to pull it together.
In desperation he suggested, "I'll come home. I'll be there by tomorrow, okay? You don't have to do this alone. You don't need to decide anything now. We can work it out after I get back."
"No." Her reply was hard, so she backpedaled. "It's just…..I need to be alone right now. I've made my decision." She paused again, drawing in a deep breath. "This is the only time I'll have with her."
When he answered, he worked to conceal his eagerness. "So you've decided -"
"Adoption," she finished for him, emotionless.
He breathed relief, quietly enough that it wouldn't filter into the call. "Let me come home, Gi. You need the support right now."
A humorless laugh answered him. "You can't baby me forever, William. Besides, Diosa is here all day and she takes care of everything, including me. She's teaching me to play pinochle."
"You'd rather be with the maid all day than with me?"
"Don't take it the wrong way," she warned. "She's had six children and she understands what I'm going through. She's even teaching me some Lamaze. You would just be in the way."
Obviously, she was lying. Putting on a brave face - or voice, rather - so he wouldn't charge home to the rescue. The fact was, he knew he really couldn't help right now - no matter how hard he tried. His anger over the circumstances would make life unbearable for her, and it was the last thing she needed. Maybe the best thing would be to acquiesce. It was the one thing he could give her - his absence.
After ending the call he went to Flowers.com on his i-phone and ordered three dozen white roses to be delivered. He had agonized over the color. Red made him think of blood. Yellow seemed too happy. Pink would remind her of the baby girl she was carrying. Finally he chose white, hoping she would look forward to a clean beginning in a few months. When it came to the card he got stumped again. Congratulations was definitely inappropriate. My Condolences was worse. He deli
berated for several moments. In the end he chose, Call me and I'll be on the next plane home.
Fishing his credit card out of his wallet, he completed the order and then tossed his phone on the bed in frustration. He raked his hands through his hair again, feeling like he was drowning in helplessness. Returning his attention to the open suitcases on the bed, he abandoned his systematic unpacking, ripped out their insides, and shoved all the contents into the dresser against the wall. He chucked the suitcases onto the floor of the bedroom that he would call home for the next few weeks. Then he fell backward onto the bed and glared at the ceiling, consumed with self-loathing.
Half an hour later a shaggy blonde head poked around his door, breaking into his dark thoughts. "Dude, you ready?"
Going to a college charity auction to benefit orphaned children was absolutely the last thing he felt like doing. What he felt like was punching someone. Perhaps he could offer to start demolition in the kitchen instead. One look at his friend's bursting-with-joy face was enough to put the idea to bed.
"Yeah," he answered, resigned. "Let me just change first."
~:~
Beth's sigh preceded her into the bathroom. Jenna stood in front of the mirror, twisting tendrils of golden hair around a large-barreled curling iron. Beth wrapped her arms around Jenna's shoulders, meshing their reflections for an instant. It was like looking at Snow White and Rose Red in the flesh. The girls couldn't have been more different - in appearance as well as personality. Beth's eyes and hair were dark; Jenna's hair was light, and her eyes were a pale green-blue.
"How do you stay so pretty?" Beth asked, exasperated.
"You're biased."
"I don't think so. You know how critical I can be."
Jenna raised her eyebrows skeptically before taking in Beth's appearance. "You look tired."
Beth sighed again, heaving herself onto the bathroom counter and resting her back against the wall. "It's been one of those weeks. I think I'll skip guitar tonight. I'm exhausted."
Jenna jerked the curling iron cord out of the outlet and began spritzing hairspray. "Too tired for the Orphaned Children Benefit I signed us up for?"
Beth bumped her head softly against the wall. "Ugh. I forgot about that. Can't I just send you with some cash?"
Jenna smiled angelically. "Beth. It's for the children."
Beth rolled her eyes. "Just drag me out now, Jenna. You know you always get your way."
Jenna looked hurt. "When, in the last fifteen years, have I made you do anything?"
"Maybe not physically, but you have your methods."
Jenna pivoted Beth around by the shoulders to face the mirror, then began brushing out her hair. "I'll buy you a Dr. Pepper on the way....."
Beth glowered at her best friend in the mirror. "Better be a big one."
Beth felt herself relax a little more with each brushstroke, and couldn't keep herself from smiling at her best friend, at least mentally. She knew that such enduring relationships weren't commonplace, and she mentally thanked whatever force had brought them together countless times. Jenna had moved into Beth's small town when both girls were four. This, and the fact that they shared a backyard divided only by a shabby wooden fence, had been the perfect breeding ground for their friendship. Beth allowed herself to be pulled into amiable childhood memories as Jenna plaited her dark hair into twin braids down her back.
CHARITY CASE
"I am in no humor to give consequence to young ladies who are slighted by other men."
~Mr. Darcy, Pride & Prejudice
Beth surreptitiously ran a hand down her clothes as she followed Jenna into the Conference Center. Jenna had braided her hair and convinced Beth to put on a little makeup, but she could not be prevailed upon to change into the flirty skirt and ruffled top that Jenna picked out for her. Beth took one look at the fancy duo, rolled her eyes, and walked out the front door without a word. If she was participating in this venture for orphaned children, then surely the said children wouldn't care that she wore yoga pants and a t-shirt.
One of the professors from the Social Studies department directed the girls to a table dotted with clipboards, where volunteers were required to sign in. Whatever they were assigned to do, Beth sincerely hoped it was behind the scenes. She didn't feel much like being social tonight.
Half an hour later Beth stood uncomfortably on the stage, fidgeting on the spot. How had she gotten into this situation? The alluring skirt and top from earlier danced before her eyes, taunting her. Suddenly she felt like she wore garbage bags for clothing. When Jenna said she had signed them up for the charity thing, Beth had interpreted that as…..a donation, perhaps. Maybe even serving some refreshments or cleaning up afterward. She hadn't expected to be lined up on a stage with other girls, being auctioned off for a dance. She thought this must be what livestock felt like.
She sighed, tucking a rogue strand of hair behind her ear and casting her eyes around for Jenna. Maybe she would come rescue her from the stage (Jenna had been 'purchased' right off). The problem was the lighting, or more appropriately, the lack thereof. Beth stood in a pillar of light in a vast, dark room, unable to see anything.
The auctioneer's voice droned on as the "dance prizes" were sold off. The room was stiflingly hot, and Beth, feeling the moisture under her arms, hoped no one would notice her sweating. One by one, the other contestants were led off the stage by their 'owners;' finally, Beth was the last one.
There are all kinds of embarrassment. The vexation of being the last one picked for a team; tripping in front of a crowd of people; obliviously trailing toilet paper from the bathroom on the bottom of your shoe. And then, there was this.
The auctioneer buzzed on about how Beth was the last one standing, about how the best was always saved for last, about how quality products sometimes came in plain packaging. Beth's emotions migrated from shame to anger and back again. She had sadistic visions of strangling the announcer with the microphone cord.
"SOLD!" The auctioneer rattled off an obscene amount of money, and relief rushed through Beth. The auctioneer handed her down the first couple steps of the stage in a show of chivalry, and then left her to her own devices. She stumbled down the last few stairs, reeling from the sudden absence of light. As the floor rushed up to meet her, a pair of arms materialized in the dark and broke her fall.
The shadowy savior set her on her feet, keeping his hold on her arms for a moment before stepping away. Beth looked up to thank him, noting he was quite tall. She couldn't make out any minute details, but his eyes and hair were dark.
"Thank -"
"You should watch where you're going." he snapped.
Beth thought she'd never heard a more pompous tone. His black eyes canvassed her with irritation. As her eyes adjusted to the lower lighting, she noted that his arms were quite muscular beneath his snug t-shirt. His skin had a light olive tone, and his dark hair looked like it had been carefully disheveled.
Beth decided to take the higher road. "Listen……thanks for coming to the rescue back there. I might have been there all night."
"You might have." He didn't look at her.
An uncomfortable stretch of silence passed. This person, whoever he was, looked positively miserable. Quite like the way Beth felt.
"Well, I think I owe you a dance," she suggested in her best falsely positive tone. "After all, it is for the children."
Smirking, he pulled out his wallet and held a roll of cash out to Beth. "I don't dance. And I honestly couldn't care less about orphaned children."
Beth's mouth popped open. "I don't want your money! You pay the guy over there."
His dark eyes touched hers as he shoved the money into her hand. "Already paid the guy. This is in lieu of the dance."
As he walked away, Beth abandoned the higher road in favor of a greasy back alley. "If you didn't want to dance with me then why did you pay?" she called.
He turned back, not exactly facing her, but enough to make eye contact. "I felt sorry for you."
Beth turned away, feeling the exhilaration of zinging him. But underneath it all, chagrinned tears burned her eyes.
She was making a bee-line for the door when she spotted Jenna dancing with a tan, broad-shouldered boy. He was average height, his blonde hair styled in a seventies shag, and he grinned like an idiot.
Beth was reminded of a surfer - a surfer who had taken a wrong turn while looking for a beach - and ended up here. Waving halfheartedly at Jenna as she passed, Beth noted the concerned scowl on her best friend's face. Tired, she mouthed, hoping it would be enough to keep Jenna in place. She added a thumbs-up for good measure.
Beth walked home to Longbourn Hall slowly, enjoying the crisp night air. Fall had only just begun. In a couple months, the purple mountains of Wyoming would be reupholstered with downy white snow. She slowed her steps, wishing the gesture could somehow stretch out her favorite season.
Stars began peeping out of the navy sky. Beth inhaled deeply, trying to drown out the discomfit with her surroundings. It didn't work. She kept flashing back to her exchange with the pompous jerk who had 'purchased' her. Who did he think he was? Who threw money at people like that? And who didn't have a soft spot for orphans? I got off easy, she told herself. Being forced to endure physical contact with someone like that for any length of time would have been unbearable. She smiled glumly to herself as she opened the doors to Longbourn Hall and hiked the stairs to room 204.
~:~
The next morning, Jenna was in an annoyingly cheery mood, bouncing into the kitchen in her flannel PJs with last night's curls still clinging in her golden hair. Beth grumpily poured herself a glass of orange juice and retrieved the last piece of cheesecake from the fridge, plopping down at the table in her t-shirt and cut-off sweats.
Pride's Prejudice Page 1
