by Jessica Daw
I love you, Charlotte. I couldn’t answer for a moment. Finally, I said, “Thanks, Charlotte.”
“Get better, Lilly.”
The door closed.
I couldn’t sleep. I just laid there, feeling numb, until my phone buzzed.
I don’t know what I expected. I don’t even know why I looked, but I did. It was a message from Will. I stared at it for I don’t know how long, my mind somehow simultaneously both blank and racing.
Then my thumb twitched and I opened it.
Lilly,
I know you don’t want to hear from me again, and you probably won’t read this email. I won’t talk about how I feel anymore, as it is amply clear that my feelings for you disgust you. I simply want to clarify on two points.
First, about Jane. What I said today was out of line. Though I still don’t blame myself for trying to separate Cade from Jane, I went a step too far. I never told Cade that Jane was in LA. Before that, I had no reason whatsoever to believe Jane had any genuine feelings for Cade. I felt no guilt in concealing, with Carrie and Louise, that Jane had called, as that was not necessarily the action of a woman in love; nor do I feel we did wrong in advising him against her. But hiding her presence in LA was wrong. It was my mistake and I’m sorry for the pain I caused your sister.
The second is Yuri Wickham. I don’t know what version of his story he told you, but I know it wasn’t the truth. The truth is not a story I like telling, but I think you need to know it.
Yuri Wickham’s father was a good but unsteady man. He gambled away his fortune and his wife left when the money was gone. My father had always been a friend to Yuri’s father, and when Yuri’s father needed work, my father provided it.
When Yuri’s father died, my father made sure that Yuri was with a good family and saw to it that Yuri went to the best schools and had every advantage a child should have. My father loved Yuri, and I believe Yuri loved my father as well. Yuri and I were even friends when we were younger, but we began growing apart as we got older, as our personalities and interests became more disparate.
My father died when Yuri and I were seventeen. Yuri’s bad behaviors, which had been developing for years, were steadily worsening. His marks were abysmal, his habits worse. But he didn’t care. My mother kept him supplied with money, because she knew my father would have wanted her to, though she never had very much affection for Yuri, as he was unkind to her.
When my mother died, Yuri asked for the money that had been set aside for his university attendance. I gave it to him and he disappeared. I didn’t think I’d ever see him again. I’d made it clear to him that I wasn’t going to give him more money than the lump sum as I felt it enabled his bad behavior, and I knew he disliked me.
The next time I heard personally of Yuri was from my sister, Georgia. Georgia was seventeen at the time, both very pretty and very trusting, and attending boarding school. My career was really taking off by then and I didn’t see her very frequently. She began telling me about a special someone she’d met, but I wasn’t overly concerned. All seventeen-year-olds fall in love, and I trusted Georgia to be careful.
It wasn’t until I received a bank notice informing me that all of Georgia’s credit cards had been maxed out that I realized something was wrong. I called Georgia and she confessed that she had been seeing Yuri. She said she hadn’t told me because Yuri had told her that I wouldn’t approve due to the age difference. She’d been too young at the time of our parents’ deaths to fully understand the sort of person Yuri was and hadn’t suspected that his motives were less than pure.
I immediately flew into London and asked Liam to meet me, as he and I have joint guardianship of Georgia. We found Yuri staying at a hotel under Georgia’s name, and learned his acting career had taken a turn downhill. He was in the middle of a messy divorce that had drained the remainder of his funds. Georgia did not know that Yuri had ever been married, let alone that he was still technically married. He told us he’d just been “having some fun” with Georgia and tried to defend his actions. We gave him twenty-four hours to get out of London.
I had to tell Georgia. Her heart was broken; she’d truly fallen in love with Yuri, or at least the face he’d shown her. I hate that I failed to protect her from that pain, too occupied with my career to notice what was happening with my own sister. Perhaps I’m as villainous as you believed me to be for allowing that to happen to her. If you trust me too little to believe this story is true, you may contact Liam, who will verify what I’ve said.
I hope this email in part explains two of the most grievous sins you accused me of. Again, I apologize for inconveniencing you. It was never my intention to make you unhappy.
Yours,
Will Darcy
My hands were shaking. I read the email over and over until the words blurred together, but I couldn’t force it to make sense.
I was wrong. I was wrong. And Will was right.
I was still angry at him. He didn’t blame himself for lying to Cade about Jane calling, or advising him against my sister? No, he was still an arrogant, conceited . . . whatever he was. But I’d been wrong about Yuri. I’d been so sure Yuri was the good one, and now it looked a lot more like Yuri was the selfish pig and Will was . . . well, the hero.
How had I gotten it so backwards? I’d always thought I was a good judge of character, but this was kind of a big slip-up. I’d kissed the wrong one.
No, wait. I didn’t want to kiss Will. Did I?
NO. No. But I would far rather have kissed Will Darcy than Yuri Wickham. What kind of twenty-seven-year-old dated a seventeen-year-old while he was married, lied about said matrimonial state, and stole as much money from her as he could? Certainly not a good man.
And I’d been so certain. I’d felt righteous anger when I’d rejected Will. I hadn’t made the slightest effort to be polite because I didn’t think he deserved it. I definitely hadn’t looked at Will without prejudice since Yuri had fed me his lies.
They’d been lies. I looked back on his story—all of it, a carefully fabricated lie, woven around the truth. He’d seemed so earnest when he’d told me, so . . . trustworthy. No wonder Georgia Darcy had believed him when he’d told her Will would disapprove of the age difference. He was a talented actor.
Why had I believed Yuri so easily, and been so quick to turn against Will?
Reluctantly, I admitted to myself it was because I’d wanted to believe that Will was a monster. I’d wanted to think that the man who’d snubbed me was a villain and the man who’d flirted with me and asked me out was a hero.
I didn’t sleep that night. When the sky first began paling, I slipped out of the house, leaving a note so Charlotte wouldn’t worry, and started walking. I walked further into those woods than I had during the whole of my stay with Charlotte, until the sun had peaked and was swiftly falling towards the mountains. I didn’t turn around until I was risking my safety going further, and I still arrived back at Collin’s home well after the moon had risen.
I found Charlotte and Collin and Mariah all watching a movie, which Charlotte immediately paused on seeing me.
“I’ve been trying to call you,” she said, worry creasing her brow.
“I’m sorry,” I mumbled.
“Liam and Will are gone,” Mariah informed me. “They both came to try to see you, and Liam waited a whole hour!”
“Will didn’t wait?” I asked, feeling a pang at hearing his name.
Mariah shook her head. “He hardly said anything—but he almost never does,” she said with a shrug. “Guess he doesn’t have to. His face speaks for itself,” she said, grinning with un-Mariah-like wickedness.
A choking laugh made its way out of me. Charlotte raised her eyebrows, and I actually laughed. It was stiff and small and short, but it was real.
I was going to be alright. I wouldn’t be the same, but I’d be alright.
chapter eleven
I stepped out of the car and breathed deeply. Home.
Dad slammed his do
or and I opened the eyes I’d unconsciously closed and smiled at him. He’d actually taken off work and come to pick me up from the airport. He’d really missed me—he hated driving to the airport. I’d told him all about the ridiculous things Catherine de Bourgh and Collin had said, though I’d had to push and prod at my memory to recall them. I didn’t mention Liam or Will.
“Coming in?” Dad asked, giving me one of his rare smiles.
I smiled back, the motion finally feeling natural. “Yeah. It’s good to be home.”
“Don’t speak so soon. You haven’t seen your mother or your sisters yet.”
“And Jane won’t be here until tomorrow,” I said with an exaggerated sigh.
“We’ll have to stick together,” he said with a conspiratorial wink.
“Deal,” I said, winking back.
My house was messier and noisier than I remembered. I’d gotten too used to Collin’s often-empty house and the quiet Canadian woods. Lydia and Kitty and Mom all jumped on me and for a moment I was drowning in a tangle of arms and hairspray-sticky hair. I laughed at my own surprise at their greeting and then extricated myself, babbling back at them as they babbled at me.
Fortunately, they quickly lost interest in asking me questions, and, dragging me into the kitchen, submitted me to a deluge of news. The only interesting bit was that Gia Forster was coming to visit.
I’d met Gia passingly during those wild weeks of Jacob Hurst’s filming. She was married to Lionel Forster, one of those older actors that always plays the king or the president and still cuts a pretty good image in a tux. He was in his late fifties, maybe early sixties—Gia was twenty-five and acted eighteen. I privately thought their relationship was more that of an indulgent grandfather and favorite granddaughter, minus the physical aspect (I’d seen them kissing and there wasn’t anything grandfatherly about how he touched her), but they seemed happy enough.
Gia had become fast friends with Lydia during the last few days of the production, which was how I’d met Gia—they’d invaded our house one day and stayed awake until four in the morning, screaming and giggling and basically behaving like the party-hungry girls they were.
I wasn’t sure I was glad Gia was visiting or not, but it would at least distract Lydia from her pining for Hollywood glamor, which I’d quickly discovered was her sole occupation.
I also discovered twenty-four hours alone with my younger sisters and mom without Jane was too long when I needed to talk. I couldn’t tell them about Will. I didn’t want to see how they reacted, because every reaction would be wrong. I’d never wanted to see Jane so badly.
So I was the one who picked her up from the airport. As soon as I saw her I surprised both of us by running forward and hugging her fiercely. She laughed and hugged me back.
“It’s good to see you, Jane,” I said. “I’ve missed you so much.”
“I’ve missed you too, Lilly,” she said, pulling away and smiling.
“I’m so excited to talk to you,” I told her, then saw her suitcase coming around the luggage carousel. “But we need to get your luggage,” I said, hurrying forward.
“Oh, thanks,” she said as I hauled it off the carousel. She made to take it from me.
“Please, let me,” I said with a half-smile.
“Thanks again.”
We walked in silence to the car, loading her suitcases and climbing in.
“How was LA?” I asked, more to be courteous than because I wanted to know.
Jane caught me. “I enjoyed it, but you should probably just tell me what’s on your mind.”
I nearly cried at how easily she’d seen through me. Even if I wasn’t sure who I was anymore, Jane still knew me. And just like that, the whole story came bubbling forth. I didn’t keep back anything—except how Will had interfered with Cade. I didn’t want to hurt her again. But I told her about Liam, and the swim, and the disastrous confession (his) and rejection (mine), and the email.
Jane was perfect. She was quiet when I needed to ramble, and gasped and exclaimed and shook her head in all the right places. And when I said, as lightly as I could, that I’d been wrong, she said, “Anyone would have thought the same thing. Everyone did think the same thing. However much I hate saying it, no one would have been very surprised by Yuri’s story, and people would be very surprised to hear Will’s version.”
I sighed. “You’re perfect, Jane.”
She laughed. “You’re sweet,” she said in her shucks-but-that’s-ridiculous way.
“No, really, Jane. I needed to hear that,” I said seriously.
She shook her head. “I can’t imagine . . . I’m sorry you had to go through all that.”
I shrugged, but it was nice to hear her say that. Just what I needed to hear. “Thanks, Jane. Now I really do want to hear about LA.”
“Not much to tell,” she said in the same light tone I’d used earlier. “I spent a lot of time with Brandon and Charlotte and Anne and especially Emily. They’re all such bright, imaginative children, and—”
“Jane,” I interrupted gently.
“And Nel and Ted were so good to me—”
“Jane.”
“And the weather was beautiful—”
“Jane.”
She looked at me plaintively. “I should be happy, Lilly,” she said miserably. “I’m home after a fun vacation visiting family, school’s starting soon and I’ll get to meet my new kids, I have you and the rest of the family . . . why aren’t I happy?” She was crying, and I was angry at Will all over again.
“It isn’t fair. You shouldn’t have to go through this,” I said with frustration.
We were almost home. “Can you pull over?” she asked. “I don’t want . . . I need to calm down before I see everyone else.”
“Sure.”
We sat in silence for a moment. “You know what, Jane? We’re going to be happy.”
She nodded slowly. “We’re going to be happy,” she repeated.
“We have our music, and our work, and our family, and our town, and each other. We’ll be fine,” I said determinedly.
“We’ll be fine,” she echoed, setting her jaw.
After that, we went home. Everyone was excited to see Jane and babbled at her just like they’d babbled at me the day before. And things were fine. School started for Jane; I went back to work and got back into my daily routine; Mary went on working at the bank, and Dad went on working on the studio, and Mom went on fluttering about the house and gossiping with everyone; Kitty started school at the local college, and Gia came to visit Lydia.
Gia stayed for a week, and hardly any of us saw either of them until Sunday dinner, when they finally graced us with their presence.
“I wish you didn’t have to leave tomorrow,” Lydia pouted. “Everything here is so boring.”
“Meryton is a quiet, calm, peaceful town with an environment that many would envy,” Mary informed us.
Lydia ignored Mary. “People don’t do anything here.”
Gia nodded sympathetically, then her eyes went wide. “I just had a stroke of genius! You should come with me!” Gia, model pretty, broke into a wide, stunning smile.
Lydia’s elfin face lit with blazing enthusiasm. “Could I really?” she asked, her blue eyes burning.
“Yes! I know that Lionel wouldn’t care, and we could have fun whenever he’s working, and you could go shopping with me, and go to movies because Lionel doesn’t like to, and we could eat at all the swankiest restaurants—”
“No.” I hadn’t meant to speak, but the word had slipped out. Will’s story was still too fresh in my mind to think it was at all safe to hang out with celebrities. And the idea of Lydia throwing herself into that world with Gia Forster as a guide . . . I couldn’t hold my tongue.
Lydia turned to glare at me. “What?”
“No. Dad,” I said, turning a pleading look on him, “tell her she can’t go.”
He shrugged. “Lydia’s an adult. It isn’t my choice.”
“Dad, you don’t u
nderstand. It’s not safe,” I said, trying to make him understand that there was more than I could say.
Apparently my telepathy wasn’t up to scratch. “Lydia needs to make her own life choices,” he said, smiling faintly at my odd behavior.
“Yeah, Lilly. Why do you even care?” Lydia fired at me.
“Because I care about you,” I shot right back.
She rolled her eyes. “Whatever. You’re just jealous since things didn’t work out with you and Yuri.”
It was on the tip of my tongue to say that this had nothing to do with Yuri, but I realized it was a lie and hesitated.
“See! You can’t even deny it,” she said maliciously.
“This has nothing to do with me,” I said instead, which was true.
“You don’t trust Hollywooders,” Gia stated.
I turned to look at her, opening my mouth to say that, no, I didn’t, but again I hesitated. Saying it wouldn’t get me anywhere, even though it was true. It wouldn’t stop Lydia from going or change Dad’s mind; it would just offend Gia and make me sound like a narrow-minded, judgmental loudmouth. “My experience with them hasn’t been exclusively positive,” I said, almost laughing at how politically correct I sounded.
She raised an elegant eyebrow.
“Present company excluded,” I added, and did laugh this time. Gia cracked a smile, thankfully.
“Does that mean she gets to go?” Kitty asked disbelievingly. “That isn’t fair!”
“You can’t go; you have to go to school,” Lydia said with a smirk.
“I make the right choice and Lydia gets to have all the fun?”
“Right choices rarely lead to short-term fun, and wrong choices rarely lead to long-term satisfaction,” Mary said soberly.
“Thank you, Mary,” I said, matching her tone, and she nodded at me like I’d been serious. Kitty shot Mary a disgusted look. Mary didn’t notice.
“Oh, Gia, would you really take my Lydia with you?” Mom asked, clearly enraptured at the idea of her daughter rubbing shoulders with all sorts of Hollywooders.
