Elizabeth became aware she needed to speak. “I would like Linda to stay, if that’s possible.”
Agent Holmes, a tall man with very dark curly hair, lifted an eyebrow at Linda and said, “Of course. May we sit down?”
The newcomers joined them at the table and had a quick, silent conference with their eyes. Linda leaned back in her seat, clearly waiting to hear what was coming.
Winnie finally spoke. “Lizzy, what we are going to tell you is going to have to stay confidential. It’s vitally important. Do you understand?”
Elizabeth nodded, still puzzled.
“Winnie isn’t my real name. I’m actually Agent Wendy Yee. The DEA has been investigating George Wickham, and I’ve been working undercover.”
Elizabeth’s jaw dropped. “But…” She was filled with so many questions that she didn’t know where to begin. Instead, she kept quiet, allowing Winnie—that is, Wendy—explain.
Linda clearly had other plans. Her chair slid back and she sprang to her feet. “You’re a Fed?!?” she demanded angrily. “And you let them take her in when you knew she was innocent? How dare you? Do you know this is going to affect her career?”
Wendy fixed Linda with a hard stare, and Elizabeth could see the sparks coming off both of them. “Ms. St. Andrews, if you would just sit down, I will explain,” she said icily.
Linda sat down and glared.
“Wickham is a major player in the cocaine trade in New York City. He receives shipments from South America and arranges for their transport to New York, and then he cuts and distributes them throughout his network of dealers. He also launders the money.”
Wendy turned to Lizzy. “I’ve been following Wickham for several months now. When we first met, I didn’t know if you knew about Wickham’s illegal business transactions and I didn’t want to discourage you. When you came down to Tampa yesterday, I knew by then who was clean and who wasn’t.”
“Miss Bennet, George Wickham went to a great deal of trouble and expense to set you up. Do you have any idea why he would have a personal grudge against you?” Agent Austen asked.
Elizabeth looked to Linda, who rolled her eyes and nodded. The DEA had shown Elizabeth their hand; it was time to reveal hers. “He has a long-standing dispute with my… um, boyfriend, Will Darcy.” She felt her cheeks warm from the inelegance of the title.
“Fitzwilliam Darcy?”
Elizabeth nodded. “I’ll admit this seems extreme,” she attempted to explain.
“Don’t worry about it, Lizzy,” Wendy stopped her. “We know George is unstable. He’s becoming paranoid from the cocaine and soon he will be too far gone for his higher-ups to use him. That is why we want to arrest him now.”
“You said you need my help? I don’t understand. I don’t know anything about drugs.”
“Yes,” Linda said in a slow, careful voice, “what exactly are you offering?”
“As Austen said, Wickham blew a lot of money to get you framed, and he did a good job of it. The deputy DA did not want to let you go,” Agent Holmes explained. “Wickham is going to be watching you to enjoy his revenge. If you are released now, he will know it and he’ll suspect something is wrong.”
“Lizzy, George received a major shipment of drugs while on the island,” Wendy continued. “He has it coming up north overland by way of three couriers, called mules, arriving through the night. Tomorrow morning, we plan to arrest him and the whole operation. We’re very close to nailing him. We want you to play along with the arrest and stay at the station house tonight. You don’t have to go to a holding cell or anything; you can stay here. In the morning, you can leave when you normally would, after a mock arraignment.”
“Once we have Wickham, we will make a public announcement, clearing you of all charges,” Holmes added.
Elizabeth frowned. “When do you expect to arrest George?”
“Before noon,” Wendy answered.
Elizabeth sagged in her seat. She felt like she was on a roller coaster. It was difficult enough to accept that she was free and that the charges would be dropped. Now she was struggling with a new request: to stay when all she wanted was to go home to Darcy. She sat stunned as she heard Linda firing off question after question to make sure the deal was fair. Elizabeth didn’t understand half of what she said, and frankly, she was too tired to care.
“Can I call Will? I’d like to discuss this with him,” she asked numbly, when there was a break in the conversation.
“No,” Austen snapped.
Wendy leaned forward. “Elizabeth, I know Will is special to you, but he has a history with Wickham and there are a lot of rumors about him being a drug user. We have to insist that you not tell him about this until George is in custody.”
Elizabeth felt as if she had been slapped. Shock and embarrassment were quickly followed by hurt and anger. “But he’s not like that. He hates Wickham.” Elizabeth felt Linda’s hand on her arm, gently squeezing her, and she stopped.
“He deserves to be consulted. If Lizzy and Darcy are connected by the media, it will affect his reputation,” Linda pointed out coolly.
“You’re worried about Fitzwilliam Darcy’s reputation?” Agent Austen scoffed.
Wendy rolled her eyes and spoke up before another argument could break out. “It’s too late for that. MTV News covered the arrest and there was an altercation between George and Richard Fitzwilliam at the airport. They’re reporting that as well. It won’t take long for them to connect you two. I’m sorry, Lizzy. We have to insist on that. You can take a moment to think about it, if you want.”
Elizabeth nodded. “Please.”
The three agents looked at each other and filed out of the room. Elizabeth put her elbows on the table and rested her head in her hands. Sighing, she looked up at Linda. “I just want to get out of here, and now this. Damn it. Why doesn’t the universe want me to be happy?”
Linda shrugged. “Maybe the universe does.” She took a deep breath and continued. “Look, Lizzy, I hate this too, but I was there three years ago. I was the one who told Will not to press charges against George after Ramsgate. Looking at it now, that might have been the wrong decision, but I was trying to protect Georgie. Believe me, I still feel guilt over that one. My point is that you have a chance now to really help Will, and yourself. If Wickham wiggles out of this, he’s not going to go away. He’s going to find another way to hurt Will and you.”
Elizabeth nodded thoughtfully. “Okay. I guess I can stand a few more hours in this place.”
“Lizzy? You know that there are going to be people who won’t believe that you are innocent if you do this.”
Elizabeth smirked. “I know. It sucks, but frankly, it’s nothing new. Ever since I joined this tour, people have been dragging my name through the mud. ‘Slurry’s Bitches’ they call us.” She smiled ruefully at the memory.
“So you are going to do it?”
“Yeah, what choice do I have? I just wish I could get some word to Will. This is going to kill him.”
Linda pursed her lips thoughtfully. “I’ll call him.”
Elizabeth’s eyes lit up.
“Don’t get all excited. I’m not going to tell him about Wickham. There are too many chances that someone might monitor the call, but I’ll tell him you are safe and all right.”
Elizabeth frowned even as she agreed. “Make it good, Linda. And tell him I love him.”
Linda nodded. Within minutes the deal was set. Elizabeth would spend the night in the interrogation room. Hot coffee and snacks were provided, and she was allowed to call her parents and relieve their worries. Linda departed, promising to return in the morning, and Elizabeth settled in to wait out the night, alone with her thoughts.
***
It was almost midnight when the phone rang. Darcy pounced on it like a cat and answered. “Darcy,” he snapped.
“It’s Linda.”
“What’s going on?”
Linda could hear the tension in his voice. “Elizabeth is okay. She’s being
held overnight until her arraignment in the morning.”
“Is she safe?”
“Yes, they are handling her with kid gloves and even gave her a separate cell.” Linda waited, but heard nothing in response. “Darcy? Will?”
“I’m here,” he replied automatically.
“Will, she’s as safe as she can be. And I have good news: a witness came forward. I think I can get the charges dropped tomorrow.”
Darcy felt his heart start beating again with her words. “Linda, I love you.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
“If they know she is innocent, why can’t she be released now?”
“Procedure, Will. There is no way to get her out before the arraignment. You are just going to have to accept that and try not to worry. She’s safe.”
Darcy wished it were that easy. “How is she doing? Is she very upset?”
“She’s upset, but she’s hanging tough. She’s mostly worried about you.”
“Really?”
“She wanted me to tell you that she loves you.”
For a moment, Darcy was speechless. When he spoke again, his voice was rough. “Linda, whatever it takes tomorrow—bail, bribe, I don’t care—you have got to get her out!”
“I will, I will. They told me the news has grabbed this?”
“Yes,” Darcy said tiredly.
“That means that the press is going to be all over her after the arraignment tomorrow. How are we going to get her out of there and where is she going?”
Darcy’s voice changed, from depressed and defeated to hard and businesslike. “Linda, this is her home. My limo and my security will pick her up and bring her here.”
Linda smiled to herself. “That means the press will be all over you too.”
“Fuck the press.”
“I just wanted to be sure where we stand.”
“Just bring her home. That’s all I care about.”
***
Darcy looked at the phone he just turned off. Georgiana had called when she saw the news report on television. The first part of their conversation was a simple recounting of the facts. Darcy did his best to keep Wickham’s name out of it, but it was unavoidable.
Georgiana surprised him by handling it better than he expected. He wondered, as he walked through the quiet of the loft, if it was helpful for her to see Wickham doing his thing on someone else. From a distance, it was easier to see that he was a villain and to evaluate his actions.
Darcy smiled mirthlessly as he got himself a bottle of water. It would be ironic if the one good thing that came out of this ordeal were for Georgie to do better.
Darcy told his sister what Linda told him: it was likely that the charges against Elizabeth would be dropped, and in any case she would be released tomorrow. He wished he believed it.
Oh, he trusted Linda; there was no better lawyer that money could buy. It was his luck he feared. He occupied himself for almost an hour, thinking of ways and reasons that Elizabeth wouldn’t be released, that she would be taken away from him, or that, worse yet, she would hate him for what Wickham did.
Memories were triggered by these thoughts and he went noiselessly to his library. He said a silent prayer as he booted up his computer and opened his email. His breath rushed out as he found what he was hoping for: Elizabeth’s song.
He plugged in headphones to avoid waking the others and quietly, with a tear running down his cheek, he listened to the song she had written just for him.
He sang along with her voice, picturing her in his mind. He realized that he had to believe. Faith was all he had, faith that had not served him well in the past. Talking to Georgiana had brought it all back to him; he was terrified of losing Elizabeth at the moment when he drew closer to her, just as he had lost his parents. Was his life destined to follow the same script again and again?
It was almost too much to face, and he took refuge in Elizabeth’s song. Tenderly, he recalled the night he first heard it: the night she gave him her love. Oh, he believed she had loved him that first time, before the VMAs, but she wasn’t aware of it then. At Pemberley, she knew. She knew exactly how she felt about him and she offered herself to him completely.
He felt warmed by the memory, and a sudden realization dawned on him: no matter what happened, the situation with Elizabeth was different from his parents. Richard and Georgiana had hinted at it, but only at that moment did he see it clearly.
He would never lose Elizabeth as he lost his parents. His parents never freely gave their love. He always had to win it, to earn their approval. His mother had never focused on him until his child prodigy status deemed him worthy, and his father had only accepted him as a replacement for his mother.
Darcy had been so hurt by this he had lived his life trying to still win their approval, long past their deaths. His parents were his reason to push himself so hard, trying to be an industrial leader and a classical musician, as well as the driving force behind Slurry. They were the reason he never gave himself permission to make a mistake.
Elizabeth, on the other hand, didn’t care about that. She never required him to be something he wasn’t. She had offered her song and her love to him not because of what he did but because she knew who he was and she loved him. Him! Not some figure and not some achievement. She had seen the most awful he could be and still she loved him.
Suddenly everything was so clear. He felt like he had a new freedom he had never known before. Elizabeth proved that he was worthy of being loved, and even if his worst fears came to pass, and he never saw her again, nothing would ever take that away.
He couldn’t express it yet, not even to Elizabeth, but he had turned a corner somehow. The power his grief had over him was gone. He now knew he didn’t have to prove himself to his parents, or to anyone, anymore.
***
It was after six in the morning when the soft rumble of the elevator motor drew Darcy out of his thoughts. As he walked toward it, Richard and Charlotte, Jane and Charles, and Caroline and Faust exited from their rooms.
“Hey, Darcy, I’ve got some bad news,” Rebecca announced as the elevator doors opened and she walked out with an armful of newspapers.
“Rebecca?” Darcy said in a puzzled voice. “What are you talking about?”
“This,” she sighed, holding up the New York Post. On the front page of the tabloid was Elizabeth’s mug shot with the headline: Slurry’s Bad Girl.
“Fuck,” Darcy swore and his band mates echoed him.
“The media knows you and Lizzy are an item, too,” Rebecca continued. She walked into the loft and deposited the pile of newspapers on the bar.
Darcy picked up one and was grieved to read about Fitzwilliam Darcy and Black Lizzy: A Match Made in Hell! Pictures of Darcy and Elizabeth were everywhere. He was not surprised to see one from the night Jane was injured, with Darcy tenderly kissing Elizabeth’s head in the elevator. He went through them all, reading the tacky headlines. (Do Jailbirds Sing?) When he finished, he looked up to see the others watching him and waiting for instructions.
Darcy might have been feeling released from his obligations to his parents, but he gladly took responsibility for Elizabeth. “Where’s Tommy?” he asked, his voice soft yet commanding.
“In the lobby,” Rebecca answered quickly. “I felt it would be a good idea for the doorman to have some back up.”
“Good. Here’s what we are going to do. Our first priority is to get Elizabeth back. Rebecca, get some extra people ready. I want you to pick her up when Linda calls. Rachel?”
“Yes, Will?”
“I want you managing the phone. We are not giving out interviews or making comments.” He turned to the others. “What about tonight?”
Caroline looked around. “If we are going to cancel, we better do it soon.”
“Will,” Charles said, “this affects you the most. You have to make the call for Slurry.” Charles’s hands rested protectively on Jane’s arms.
Darcy took a deep breath and thought. “At this
point, I say we go, but I won’t confirm anything until Lizzy’s free.” He looked at Jane and Charlotte sympathetically. “What do you want to do?”
Jane looked miserably at Charlotte. “I don’t know,” she whispered, clearly hurt by what she had read. “I can’t believe they said this about Lizzy. None of it is true.”
“We know, angel, we know,” Charles comforted her.
“Jane, why don’t we plan on LBS not performing tonight?” Darcy said. “We don’t know how tired Lizzy is going to be and we can always change our minds if things go better than expected.”
Jane nodded from Charles’s embrace. Darcy looked to Charlotte, who was glaring at the newspapers and smoking with trembling hands. “Char?”
Charlotte nodded and turned away, pressing her forehead against Richard’s chest.
“Okay, let’s do it then.” The group moved into action, Caroline, Rebecca, and Rachel handling the phones, Faust moving the offensive newspapers away while Charles and Richard comforted their lovers and Darcy made coffee and tea for everyone.
***
It was almost 8:00 a.m. when Linda returned to Elizabeth. She entered the tiny room grinning and carrying a Starbucks bag. “How is the hero today?”
Elizabeth did not share Linda’s cheerfulness. She simply wanted to be out of there. “Badly in need of a shower, thanks.”
“Here, coffee will make a new woman out of you.” Elizabeth gladly accepted the cup. “I had some interesting phone calls,” Linda continued.
“From whom?”
“Deputy DA Rodgers and I had a nice little chat.”
“Oh?” The coffee was helping and Elizabeth looked at her with new alertness.
“Yes, he’s not a happy camper to let you go. He thought he had a nice, high-profile drug bust all nailed up tight.”
Elizabeth shrugged. “So sorry to disappoint him.”
“He’ll get over it.” She paused a moment. Her voice had lost all its light tone when she spoke again. “Lizzy, you need to know; this has become very high profile. It’s a slow news day, so you and Will are on the front page.”
Fitzwilliam Darcy, Rock Star Page 47
