Liz smiled in as nasty a way as she could manage. “How wonderful for both of you.”
“If Darcy goes for you, it’ll only be because he’s lost perspective living in Ohio. It’s like when people start sympathizing with their kidnappers.”
If Darcy goes for you—were Darcy and Caroline not a couple? Because if they were, then this display was even more unhinged than if they weren’t. I’m sure you’ve heard from my brother about him and Caroline, Liz thought, and the revelation of her own foolishness was like a clap of thunder in her brain. Upon receiving that text from Georgie, she had, of course, wondered, Heard what? But she’d quickly gone from wondering to suspecting that she knew to being certain. Never would she have leapt to a conclusion this way when writing an article, never would she have allowed a fact to be alluded to without clarification. Trust but verify—that’s what she’d have done. Yet not once in the past three months had she even attempted verification. How sloppily, and with what slim evidence, she had embraced the disappointment of her own desires. Why on earth had she been so ready for, so complicit in, the denial of what she most wanted?
“But if Darcy goes for you,” Liz said slowly to Caroline, “would that be a more suitable match? No one would be embarrassing themselves?”
“Listen,” Caroline said. “It’s not a secret that your dad bankrupted your family. Your mom and your sisters are idiots, and now you have a tranny brother-in-law. You’re not girlfriend material for Fitzwilliam Darcy.”
“Let me see if I understand. Your brother is a reality-TV star, which you set in motion. But my family is too tacky for Darcy?”
“The TV stuff is business. Eligible has just been a way of establishing Chip’s brand and setting him up for his own projects.”
“In your defense,” Liz said, “I can tell that you believe what you’re saying, even if it’s completely illogical. But either way, Darcy is a grown man who makes his own decisions.”
Caroline’s eyes narrowed. “Are you guys already together?”
Liz laughed. “How could we be when it would be such a breach of propriety? It would almost be worse than wearing linen after Labor Day. Maybe as bad as using a salad fork for your main course.”
“You find yourself very clever,” Caroline said. “We all know that about you.”
“I’m going to bed now,” Liz said. “Good night, Caroline.” But Liz had taken only a few steps toward the elevators when she turned back. “By the way,” she said, “we’re delighted to have Ham join our family, and no one uses the word tranny anymore. Or at least no one with good breeding does.”
It was inside the elevator, during the short ride up to the third floor, that Liz remembered that she had been mic’d for the entire conversation.
IN THE HOTEL room, Liz grabbed her cellphone from the bureau where she’d left it before the rehearsal dinner and searched frantically for the text from Georgie. After rereading it (I’m sure you’ve heard from my brother about him and Caroline and now I feel very awkward about the conversation you and I had. I really wish I’d bitten my tongue), Liz typed hastily.
Georgie so sorry I never responded to this. It was great to meet u too. I know this is random but what did u mean when u said u were sure I’d heard from your brother about him & Caroline?
During the next ten minutes, Liz was so addled and impatient that she began doing jumping jacks to distract herself; after a few, as a courtesy to whoever was staying in the room under hers, she switched to sit-ups. Although she hadn’t smoked in years, she was considering trying to find a cigarette when, at last, Georgie’s response arrived: I meant the car accident. Your Kathy de Bourgh article was awesome! I knew it would be.
What car accident? Liz replied. Thanks about article!
Georgie’s subsequent response came in three separate bubbles.
Not sure how much you already know, the first one read, but coming back from hike that day, another driver hit my brother’s car in foothills and Caroline’s collarbone fractured.
The second text read, It wasn’t Fitzy’s fault but he felt responsible since he was driving. Caroline NOT happy the rest of the weekend. I think she is better by now!
The third text read, You’re all at Chip and your sister’s wedding, right? So funny to think Fitzy will be on eligible. I told him to get a selfie w/ Rick Price. He will probably “forget” so pls remind him!
Did the fact of Caroline having sustained an injury mean, Liz wondered, that she herself ought to feel more compassion and less loathing for the other woman?
Just to confirm, Liz wrote, your brother & Caroline aren’t a couple now & haven’t been since we were all in Atherton?
Nope! Georgie responded.
This, Liz decided, was the reason she shouldn’t loathe Caroline: not because she wasn’t loathsome but because she wasn’t Darcy’s. And then Liz understood with an abrupt urgency what she needed to tell Darcy and—even more important—what she needed to ask him. Indeed, the urgency was so great that she considered texting him immediately, or just figuring out which room he was staying in and knocking on the door. But surely such a conversation ought not to be initiated impulsively.
Thanks Georgie, she wrote. I’ll see what I can do to get a pic of Rick & your brother.
THOUGH CHIP’S TEARS during the exchange of vows weren’t a surprise, their duration and magnitude was a spectacle unlike any Liz had ever witnessed. They began the moment Jane appeared, following the procession of her sisters and soon-to-be sisters-in-law: She was resplendent in an ivory silk organza gown; her blond hair was pulled into a loose chignon; she wore a tulle veil delicately dotted with freshwater pearls; and she carried a bouquet of white roses. On her feet were gold satin peep-toe pumps whose heels, Liz thought with some consternation, hadn’t been designed to support someone in Jane’s current condition, though it was undeniable that they contributed to an overall presentation of exquisite and even magical beauty; Jane resembled nothing so much as a pregnant angel.
She was accompanied down the aisle by Mr. Bennet, in a new tuxedo. In his suitcase, he had brought to California the Brooks Brothers one he’d acquired in 1968 as the Cincinnati Bachelors Cotillion escort of a debutante named Peggy Isborne, and inducements from various young and attractive members of Eligible’s wardrobe department had been required to convince him that he’d be even more dashing were his formal wear updated. The bridesmaids wore lavender chiffon dresses with plum-colored sashes, and though Liz remained generally wary of Eligible, she appreciated that the wardrobe department had chosen different cuts of the dress to most flatter each woman’s body; hers was sleeveless, with a V-neck and a knee-length skirt.
The ceremony occurred in the courtyard; during the night, rather miraculously, the pool had been overlaid with a clear acrylic cover on which rested the guests’ chairs, divided into two clusters to create the aisle. At the pool’s far end stood a wooden altar off which hung yards of gauzy white fabric adorned with freshwater pearls in a pattern that echoed Jane’s veil, and around which coiled white roses that echoed Jane’s bouquet. Six camera crews were present, one of whom was responsible for the large jib camera on a crane. Also on a crane was a thin rectangular lighting panel that measured perhaps six by ten feet. The officiant was Rick Price.
From his first sighting of Jane, Chip’s face crumpled; and the subsequent gush from his eyes would surely have been sufficient to bathe a medium-sized dog: a corgi or, perhaps, a border collie. As maid of honor, Liz stood just behind Jane and had the best view of anyone of the storm twisting Chip’s features. When Jane and Mr. Bennet had made their way down the aisle, Mr. Bennet had lifted her veil, kissed her on the cheek, then taken her right hand and held it out for Chip to grasp with his own. (If only, Liz thought as this sequence then occurred twice more for the cameras, she were a person who could see the tradition as charming rather than queasily patriarchal.) As Mr. Bennet sat, Chip squeaked out to Jane the words “You’re so beaut—” but was unable to finish, interrupted by a fresh torrent of emotio
n. Jane set her hand on his upper arm, patting gently, and though Liz could not see her sister’s expression, she felt confident it was one of enormous affection.
“Greetings,” Rick Price intoned. “We have gathered here today for a truly blessed event, a celebration that is the pinnacle of life and love. Chip and Jane, before your families, God, and the world, you’ll affirm your commitment to each other.” He paused and winked toward the guests. “Now, who’s ready to have some fun?”
A confusing pause ensued, and then Jane said, “I am.” Chip tried to speak, couldn’t, sniffled even as new tears fell, and simply nodded.
“Rick, let’s do that again without the wink,” a bearded producer standing behind one of the film crews interjected, and the ceremony proceeded thusly: a progression of do-overs and tears that made what likely would have been a ten-minute rite last over an hour. At intervals, makeup was reapplied, particularly to Jane but also to Chip, Rick Price, and the rest of the wedding party; a break was taken while Jane, accompanied by Liz and three members of the wardrobe department, went to urinate; and for multiple minutes at a time, everyone simply waited as Chip tried to collect himself, with Jane murmuring reassurances that were in fact audible to all.
Yet Liz was never bored; the entire ceremony was a surreal and delicious purgatory that she could have contentedly existed in forever, making uninterpretable but possibly flirtatious eye contact with Fitzwilliam Darcy. Liz had walked down the aisle as the final bridesmaid before Jane and had by some trick of vision managed to ignore both Chip and Rick Price standing before her and seen only Darcy: impossibly tall and serious and handsome. His handsomeness, still, was astonishing. But it was the import of what she wanted to say to him combined with her uncertainty about how he’d respond that left her in no hurry for the ceremony’s conclusion. Given that Darcy was not Caroline’s boyfriend, and given also the rumor that Darcy still had feelings for her—the swoon-inducing rumor unwittingly propagated by Caroline—Liz felt some degree of optimism. But optimism could always be quashed, and her heart could be broken once again.
Eventually, even with Chip’s voluminous tears, the ceremony finished. The couple made their victorious promenade down the aisle as husband and wife, to great applause; then, so as to ensure that the cameras didn’t miss a single angle, they circled back and made the same promenade two additional times. At this point, the guests were free to mingle, though Liz knew there was much more to endure, including her own toast. Presumably, the documentation of both the first dance and the slicing of the wedding cake would also require extra patience. But champagne was being served, appetizers were being passed—stuffed mushrooms, crostini smeared with goat cheese—and there was for at least a few minutes an interlude of comparative freedom. Darcy stood by the hot tub talking to Shane, and as Liz hurried toward them, she was intercepted by Lydia.
“This is the most boring day of my life,” Lydia said with her mouth full of stuffed mushroom. “Aren’t you bored?”
“I guess you’re not cut out for reality TV,” Liz said. “Which is good to know, right?”
“Does Jane get to keep that dress?” Lydia asked, and Liz said, “There’s something I have to do. I’ll be back in a second.” As she pushed past Jane, Chip, and the small throng encircling them to issue congratulations, she turned off the microphone discreetly clipped to the inside of her dress, near her collarbone. At the edge of the hot tub, she tapped Darcy on the arm. When he looked at her, she said, “Hi. Hi, Shane. Can I steal Darcy for a second?” Up close, she could unmistakably see the makeup Darcy wore—base and powder, it appeared—which might have been disconcerting if she had not felt so preoccupied with the mission she had assigned herself.
“You look great, Liz,” Shane said. He lifted his champagne glass. “Cheers.”
Liz held no glass, but she repeated, “Cheers.” To Darcy, she said, “Will you come with me?”
“Where?” He said it without particular warmth.
She had decided on a spot beside the path that led around the side of the lodge. She pointed. “That way. And can you turn off your mic?”
“Can I what?”
It was easier to do than to explain—she stood on tiptoe, reached up to his lapel, and switched it off herself. Turning, she walked quickly toward the path, still carrying her bouquet, avoiding eye contact with family and crew members alike and hoping that Darcy and no one else was following her; surely some audio guy, perhaps someone in the control room, had already taken note of having lost sound for the maid of honor and the best man and was en route to rectify the situation. She glanced over her shoulder—Darcy was following her—then stepped off the path and behind a large boulder bordered by desert grasses and bleached, sandy soil. He joined her, his expression quizzical, and they stood facing each other.
“You talked to my mom about Ham, didn’t you?” Liz said. He looked surprised, and Liz added, “Lydia and Mary both mentioned it.”
Darcy scanned Liz’s face before saying, “I’m afraid the birth defect explanation isn’t politically correct, but I was trying to find terms that would be understandable to someone of her generation.”
“Did you talk to her over the phone or in person?” Liz hadn’t planned to ask, but she found herself wondering.
Darcy smiled. “That’s a very Liz Bennet–ish question. I took both your parents to lunch.”
“That was brave.” After a pause, she said, “Is a Liz Bennet–ish question a good or bad thing?”
Darcy said, “Actually, that’s a very Liz Bennet–ish question, too.”
“You guys didn’t go to Skyline, did you?”
“We went to Teller’s. Would you like to know what we ordered?”
But there was growing affection in his tone, not sarcasm. And the thought of him inviting her mother and father to lunch, sitting with them at a table in Teller’s, helping them, with the authority conferred by his medical degree, to understand that having a transgender son-in-law wasn’t a terrible thing—it was very moving. Liz said, “Thank you. And thank you also for getting Jane and Chip back together—for making the dinner in New York happen.”
“I’m glad you feel that way after the paces we’ve been put through in the last few days.” He grazed his jaw with his fingers. “And me standing here like a fool in makeup.”
“It kind of suits you. Is the stroke center okay with you taking time off?”
“I’ll be working Christmas and New Year’s, which is fine. Georgie’s flying to Cincinnati for the holidays.” Their eyes met again, and he said, “Georgie called me last night. She’s worried that she sent you a confusing text on Labor Day.”
“It wasn’t Georgie’s fault. It just—” Liz swallowed. “I jumped to conclusions. I didn’t know you and Caroline had been in a car accident, and I thought you’d gotten together, like as a couple. It didn’t seem that far-fetched, because I could tell I’d annoyed you by interrupting our breakfast and flying to Cincinnati when Lydia eloped. Then when you texted me right after I got back to New York—I wish now that I hadn’t responded so coldly, but that’s why I did. And it’s why I didn’t behave very well at the dinner with Jane and Chip.”
“Yes, it was clear that night that I’d done something to displease you,” Darcy said. “Even if I wasn’t sure what.”
“I actually wanted to ask you in New York how Georgie is doing,” Liz said.
“Much better,” Darcy said. “Thanks.”
There was a brief silence, and Liz gathered her courage. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m sorry because I’ve been rude, and you haven’t deserved my rudeness. In Atherton, I felt like things between us were good in a way they hadn’t been before. I really enjoyed being around you, and even though I’d been obnoxious in Cincinnati, I thought maybe you’d forgiven me. But after Lydia eloped, it seemed like I’d ruined any shot you and I had.”
“I wasn’t annoyed that morning. I was disappointed. And later kicked myself for taking too long to follow up, but you were so consumed with your fami
ly that at the time it seemed better to give you space.”
“Well, you were right about my family being a disaster, as the rest of America will soon learn. And about my being gossipy and not as funny as I think I am.”
“Liz.” Darcy reached a hand out and set it on her bare forearm, and the gesture made her heart volcanic. “I hope you know that your talent for gossip is a large part of why I enjoy your company.” He was regarding her with an expression that was both appraising and tender. “I’ve never met anyone with your interest in other people. Even when you’re judging them, you do it with such care and attention. I can never predict who you’ll like or dislike, but I always know your reasons will be very specific and you’ll express them with great passion. I’ve also never known anyone more loyal to her family.”
“Are you kidding? I don’t even like all my sisters. Or both of my parents.”
“Yet you think nothing of hopping on a plane or running through the midday heat to help them the minute they need you.” Darcy looked away, though his hand remained, electrically, on her forearm. He said, “If it’s not obvious, I was wrong about a lot of things, too. That morning at your sisters’ apartment, I guess I thought—” He paused. “I thought I needed to be rude to overcompensate for being in love with you. I was afraid that I was chasing you like a schoolboy, and you’d find me corny. But I went much too far in the other direction.”
Simultaneously, Liz felt a rapturous hope at his reference to having been in love with her and a panic that he no longer was. Couldn’t he indicate one way or the other, to put her out of her suffering? It was difficult to speak, but she said slowly, “Caroline told me last night that I’m not allowed to be your girlfriend. Because of my tacky family and all that. But it made me wonder—” Liz hesitated. “It made me wonder if she was mixed up. If she thought you were planning to tell me you were interested in me because she didn’t know you already had.”
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