Fitzwilliam Darcy, Rock Star

by Heather Lynn Rigaud

  “We?”

  “Slurry.”

  “Oh.”

  “I’m sorry, Jane. Believe me, I would take you if I could, but it’s a media thing. We’re going to be seen and photographed before the VMAs. All the big De Bourgh names will be there.” He sighed, tired with the charade he was playing. “Jane, look, tomorrow is just not going to work, but I promise, we’ll see each other on Tuesday, and we’ll talk then.”

  “Charles, what’s wrong? You sound so down. Tell me what’s going on, please.”

  Charles let the ocean water wash over his feet. He could hear the frustration in her voice. “I know, Jane. I’m sorry. There’s a lot of stuff going on here, and I promise as soon as I see you, I’ll explain it all.”

  “Yeah, when it’s convenient for you,” she sulked.

  “Jane, please try to understand.”

  “Charles, you haven’t given me anything to understand.”

  Charles could see Caroline waving to him from the house. “I’m sorry, Jane. Just hang on two more days, and I’ll explain it all.”

  “Okay,” Jane said dully.

  “I have to go; bye, Jane.”

  “Bye, Charles,” she answered and hung up. He frowned at the dial tone coming from his phone and then hurried up the beach.

  ***

  Darcy sighed as he entered his loft. He dragged his Pullman case into the bedroom and dropped onto his bed. It was still early in the day, just as it had been early when he left Paris eight hours earlier, but he was exhausted. Sleeping on the plane had not worked, so he tried to read, but mostly he found himself thinking about her. In his mind he kissed her a hundred times. She was receptive and eager. He held her close, and together they pleasured each other again and again. His favorite image was one in which he entered her room, to find her wearing only her Gibson and a smile.

  Tomorrow, he told himself. Tomorrow he would see her again, then he would know how to act. So many times he had picked up the phone to call her, he even had an email draft ready to send. But he wasn’t certain. Words with her were still hard. He didn’t trust himself not to say the wrong thing.

  Playing to her was a completely different story. Tomorrow he would play to her, and she would know what he felt, what he wanted.

  Darcy heard the elevator stop at his floor. Georgiana was on her way to Pemberley, so this could only be one other person. He recognized Richard’s footsteps as they entered the gallery.

  “Will,” he called out.

  “In here,” Darcy said, sitting up.

  Richard entered Darcy’s bedroom. “How was Paris?” he asked easily.

  “Great,” Darcy answered. “Georgie had a good time.”

  “Good, good.”

  “How was Hazelden?” Darcy asked, his tone a shade darker.

  Richard shrugged. “Good,” he replied simply.

  Darcy respected Richard’s privacy. After Georgiana’s graduation the previous Saturday, Richard surprised them by telling the Darcys he would not be joining them on their river cruise of Paris. Instead he would return to the clinic where he was treated for alcoholism. Richard’s decision greatly relieved Darcy; it meant that his cousin was facing his problems himself and was perhaps ready to do something about it.

  “Will you be going back?” Darcy asked.

  “That depends.”

  “On the VMAs?”

  Richard nodded. “Before I can really work out why I’m… doing this, I need to get things straight with her, but I can’t do that to Charlotte until I’ve gotten myself together.”

  Darcy regarded Richard uneasily. “Sounds like a catch-22 situation.”

  Richard nodded. “One day at a time, that’s all I can do.”

  Darcy nodded. “I’m going to try to sleep before tonight.”

  “What time is the party?”

  “Eight o’clock.”

  “Okay, I’ll wake you in time.”

  Richard closed the door, and Darcy stripped off his clothes, climbed into his cool bed, and enjoyed the vision of Elizabeth and her guitar.

  ***

  Elizabeth was worried. Jane looked like a wreck and moped in her room all day. Elizabeth had never seen her like this, and it was late in the day before Jane would talk about it.

  “It’s Charles.”

  Elizabeth guessed as much. That he was due back in New York today and Jane wasn’t seeing him clearly signaled that something was wrong.

  “He told me he needs to talk to me about something important when he gets back.”

  “Did he say what?”

  “No, he wouldn’t talk about it over the phone,” Jane said sadly, looking at the floor. “I think he means to break up with me.”

  A week ago, Elizabeth would have said that was crazy, but the week had been long and hard on both of them, and Elizabeth had become cautious. Nevertheless, she did not want Jane to worry. “Jane, I really don’t think he would do that, do you?”

  “I don’t know,” Jane said softly. “He’s been sounding so down and unlike himself over the phone, and he said it was something bad.”

  “Maybe it’s not you. Maybe it’s something totally different that’s bad, and it’s been getting to him.”

  “Then why wouldn’t he tell me?” she asked, her eyes begging for hope.

  “I don’t know, Jane,” Elizabeth said, putting her arm around her sister’s shoulder. “But I do know there is no sense in worrying about it. There’s nothing we can do but wait, right?”

  Jane nodded. “I know,” she smiled weakly at Elizabeth, “I’m trying.”

  Elizabeth tried to smile back but found it hard in the face of her sister’s obvious pain. She squeezed Jane tight, then heard Lydia calling to her from downstairs. “Lizzy! Phone call!”

  Elizabeth reached over and picked up Jane’s extension. “Hello?”

  “Hey, gorgeous,” George Wickham’s voice answered.

  “George!” Elizabeth exclaimed. Jane smiled at her and lifted her eyebrows. “How are you?”

  “I’m great! I just got into New York, and I wanted to make sure I would see you tomorrow at the VMAs.”

  “Yes!” Elizabeth grinned, surprised. “Are you going to be there?”

  “Oh yeah. A couple of my videos are up for awards.”

  “Oh! That’s wonderful!”

  “So, I’ll see you there?” George said coyly.

  “You will! I’m looking forward to it,” Elizabeth said pleasantly.

  “Bye, Lizzy.”

  Elizabeth hung up and turned to an expectant Jane. “That was George.”

  “Who will be at the VMAs and is looking forward to seeing you,” Jane continued.

  Elizabeth laughed. “Yes, basically that’s it.”

  “And are you looking forward to seeing him?”

  Elizabeth inclined her head. “Of course I am. George is my friend.”

  “What about Will?”

  Elizabeth frowned thoughtfully. “Yeah, what about him?” She sighed. “Well,” she said, drawing the word out, “I guess we’re both going to have to see what happens.”

  ***

  As usual, Charles and Caroline were late. Darcy would have left without them if it weren’t for the media exposure. That was the whole point of the party. It was after eight when they finally arrived. Darcy and Richard were in their “Slurry-wear,” waiting in the kitchen.

  Darcy was struck by the change in his friend right away. Physically Charles looked good; his skin was tanned, but his eyes were an emotional mess inside. “What the fuck?” Darcy asked him. “Didn’t your father get parole?”

  Charles waved the question away. “Oh, he did. I have him all settled in the apartment at my place.”

  “Then why do you look like your puppy got run over?”

  “Jane,” Charles said simply. Caroline said nothing, but the set of her mouth made it clear this was not a new topic.

  “What happened?”

  “I miss her. I hated being away from her. She sounded so sad, and I couldn’t ev
en tell her why we were apart.” He pulled his hair back. “And now I can’t even see her tonight.”

  “Charles, this is a business thing. It will be full of photographers and reporters. Why would Jane want to come to this?”

  Charles looked at Darcy, his eyes haunted. “I know that. I told her that, but still she would have come, just to see me.”

  “Did you call her?”

  “Her line was busy.”

  Darcy sighed. This was not going well. He had seen Charles get into trouble emotionally before and he knew the signs. “Look, Charles, tomorrow you will see her, and you two can work it all out.”

  Charles nodded dumbly.

  “Now let’s go.”

  ***

  Elizabeth answered the phone. An angry voice said, “Finally.”

  “George?”

  “Yeah, it’s me. Damn, it’s hard to get through to you!”

  “Sorry, too many girls,” Elizabeth explained lightly. “What’s up?”

  “I got some bad news, Lizzy.”

  “What?”

  “I won’t be seeing you tomorrow night.”

  “Why not?”

  “It’s that friggin’, bastard.”

  “Who?”

  “Darcy!” George growled. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t take it out on you, Lizzy.” His tone softened. “It’s just that the jerk must have found out I was going and he pulled some strings, so now I don’t have an invitation to the show.”

  “What?” Elizabeth was shocked. “How could he do that?”

  “Oh, he could do it. He’s fucking Fitzwilliam Darcy. If he said jump, all of MTV would ask how friggin’ high!”

  “I can’t believe he would do that!”

  “Oh, believe it, Lizzy,” George said with certainty. “Did you tell him about me?” he asked.

  “Yes,” she said, puzzled.

  “Well, there you go. He doesn’t want me anywhere near you.”

  “Oh God!” Elizabeth said in a low voice. “Oh my God!”

  “I told you he gets what he wants, didn’t I, Lizzy?”

  “George, you were right,” Elizabeth whispered.

  “It’s okay, Lizzy. I’m just pissed because I wanted to see my work win.”

  “That bastard,” Lizzy whispered harshly, her anger building. “I can’t believe him! That arrogant prick! It’s bad enough he thinks he can fuck with me, but it’s so wrong that he would mess with you.”

  “He’s something, that arrogant jerk,” George snorted.

  “Well, what are you going to do?” Elizabeth asked tentatively.

  George sounded sad. “Nothing I can do, Lizzy. He’s got me.”

  Elizabeth remembered Darcy’s anger as she told him about Wickham. “That’s it! He’s not getting away with this. Tomorrow I’m going to tell him off!”

  “Lizzy, don’t get yourself in trouble for me.”

  “It’s not for you, George! It’s because he’s wrong! He’s an arrogant bastard and I’m going to tell him just what I think of him!” She stomped her foot. “God! If I knew where he was, I would go there right now!”

  “Oh, that’s not hard,” George said lightly. “He’s no doubt at his big fancy loft. Hasn’t he ever taken you there?”

  “No,” Elizabeth said, her tone soft and hurt.

  “Figures,” George muttered darkly. “It’s on Broome Street in the Village.”

  A plan came to Elizabeth. “Could you tell me how to get there?”

  ***

  Darcy stretched and hit the lights. He was dead tired. The nap hadn’t helped much, and the nervous energy that came from traveling was wearing off. He was happy to leave the party the first chance he could and go back home. Richard volunteered to stay and to look after Charles when Darcy announced he was leaving at ten thirty. Anne gave him an evil look, but he hadn’t cared. He pressed the flesh and posed for pictures. His job was done. Darcy got himself a large glass of water. He hated affairs like that. The hypocrisy of it all disgusted him.

  He was surprised when the phone rang ten minutes later. Even more surprising was the message. The doorman had an Elizabeth Bennet to see him. He ordered her sent up and went to the gallery to meet her, smiling. She had come! Just like he knew she would!

  The elevator stopped and Elizabeth stepped out, her eyes flashing. She was surprised to find Darcy in a white shirt and his leather pants. Elizabeth bit down hard on her lust and snapped, “What? You wear those all the time?”

  “I was just at an appearance,” he explained.

  “Do you know why I’m here?” she asked.

  “I think so,” he replied, lifting an eyebrow.

  “You aren’t even ashamed, are you?” she said, appalled.

  “Why should I be?” he asked, suddenly uncertain.

  “Oh! That just takes the cake! You ban your oldest friend from receiving awards he rightfully deserves and it doesn’t bother you in the least!”

  “Lizzy, what are you talking about?” Darcy asked, confusion plain on his face.

  Elizabeth rolled her eyes. “So now you’re playing stupid? Fine! I’ll tell you. I’m talking about George Wickham, who just told me you had him banned from the VMAs,” she snarled scornfully.

  Darcy’s expression hardened. “That’s a lie, Elizabeth. No doubt one of many he’s told you.”

  “Why would he lie to me?”

  “Probably to get back at me, I suspect,” he said calmly.

  “George would never do that!” she said defiantly.

  Darcy looked at her carefully. “Why do you believe him?”

  Elizabeth paused, speechless. The question had caught her completely unawares. She pursed her lips and replied a moment later. “Because,” she stammered, “he told me everything that happened between him and you and Georgiana.”

  Darcy smiled bitterly. “No, I’m sure he didn’t tell you everything. Quite sure.” He looked at her, his expression completely open. “Elizabeth, would you please sit down with me, and allow me to tell you my side of the story?”

  Elizabeth nodded, surprised, her anger blunted by his reaction. This was not what she expected. He led her down a long hallway to a huge open space surrounded by shaded windows. Elizabeth sat on the couch and waited, still tense and hostile.

  Darcy sighed deeply and began in a calm voice. “I trust that once you hear what happened you will know why I have to ask you to keep it a secret.”

  She watched as his face turned raw with anguish and he paused, visibly struggling to continue. Elizabeth felt confusion and pity for the pain he was attempting to master. Clearly whatever had happened had deeply affected Darcy as well. “Can I,” she stopped when he looked at her, then she blurted out, “help?”

  “Maybe it would be easier if you told me what Wickham told you,” he said, somewhat gratefully.

  Elizabeth spoke in a matter-of-fact way. “He told me about how he grew up with Georgiana, and they were childhood friends.” Darcy nodded. “Then he went away to college, and when he returned, he saw her differently, as a beautiful woman.” Elizabeth watched as Darcy’s jaw tightened. She licked her lips and continued. “He told me how he fell in love with her, and she with him, until you found them out and forced them to break up.” Her tone and her expression turned hard. “Now, tell me that was a lie.”

  Darcy had been pacing, listening carefully to her words. “It’s not,” he said shortly. “Nothing of it was a lie. I can see why you believed him.”

  Elizabeth was dumbstruck. “And you admit to this? To forcing them apart? To breaking their hearts?”

  Darcy looked down for a long time. Then he lifted his eyes to her and said, “Excuse me, I need to get something.” He disappeared into a side room and returned a moment later, sitting this time beside her on the couch. In his hand was a white folder with the words “Choate Rosemary Hall” printed in gold letters on it.

  “It’s all true what he told you, Elizabeth, but he left out one very important detail. From the way you tell the story, I do look like a mons
ter. I can see that, but, well—” He sighed and turned to the folder. “Last Saturday, I was at Georgiana’s graduation. Her high school graduation.”

  He opened the folder and passed it to her. In it was a large picture of a girl in cap and gown, standing next to Darcy, smiling with pride. The program in the folder was opened to the list of graduates, and the name Georgiana Helen Darcy was circled in black ink. Elizabeth noted absently that she had been an honor student. A cold, confused, surreal feeling came over Elizabeth as she looked at the words written there and the date, only a week prior.

  Darcy spoke softly, his voice far away. “It started when George and I were in college together. At first, I ignored it. It wasn’t unusual for freshmen to be dating high school girls, but he never stopped, even as he got older. By the time he was a senior, I was aware there was something strange going on, but he was careful to hide it. He would never bring his dates to any place I might be.

  “Then we started the band. At first, we only played for ourselves, but George really pushed us to perform in public and he even set up the first shows for us. It was summer, and it was hard to tell how old the girls he was hanging around with were. Truthfully, I was too busy working on our songs to even notice.

  “Then that spring, he started to slip. Richard and I were starting to notice we had a surprising number of high-school-aged girls as fans, but we just figured it was the music. We caught George with these girls once or twice, but he always claimed he didn’t know, or that they had told him they were in college.”

  His voice grew softer as Elizabeth looked at him, horror building on her features. “Then that tour came. I made the decision to take Georgie with us because I missed her, frankly. She was at school all spring and I wanted her around. I had no idea…” His voice faded, then with effort, he began again. “It was the Fourth of July, at the Ramsgate festival.” Darcy looked up into Elizabeth’s eyes, and she knew he had never told this to anyone before. “And I walked into George’s dressing room and found him on top of my fourteen-year-old sister.”

  Elizabeth’s hands were trembling as she moved them over her mouth. “Oh God,” she cried so quietly no one could have heard. A memory slammed into her head, of her lying on the couch on Darcy’s bus and listening to Caro discuss Georgie going to college.