A Higher Education

by Rosalie Stanton

  Will was still a moment before he gave her a short nod. And she thought that might be the end of it. There didn’t seem to be anything else to say.

  She was about to turn back to the door when his voice hit the air again.

  “Why?”

  The smart thing to do would be to pretend she hadn’t heard.

  Except she had heard.

  And she had unfinished business too. She meant to ream him for what he’d done to Jane before he’d gone and made with the love talk that would probably go down as one of the worst declarations ever.

  Just thinking about Jane—about what she’d overheard—had her temper climbing back up toward the danger zone.

  “Why what?”

  “What did I do,” he asked again, and she heard him take a step forward, “to make you feel like this? About me?”

  And there it was. A gift-wrapped opportunity to tear him a new asshole.

  Still, her voice remained calm as she turned and met his eyes. “You told Charlie that Jane was after his money and connections.”

  Will blinked. “What?”

  “Jane. You know, my best friend. My roommate. You decided to tell him that Jane was using him to get into that Realis place. You told him to break her heart because, why? She’s not good enough? She’s too poor? She’s black? Why?”

  His eyes went wide. “Wait, no. I was asked my opinion and I gave it. I never told Charlie to dump her but he clearly wasn’t getting what he wanted out of the relationship—”

  “You mean she hadn’t boinked him.”

  “I mean she didn’t seem to want anything to do with him!” Will all but screamed. “Charlie was already thinking up names for the children. Toward the end, it seemed she couldn’t stay in the same room with him.”

  “That’s bullshit.”

  “You wouldn’t know, would you? You weren’t there, apart from that one night. I was.” He huffed and shook his head. “Charlie’s a guy who falls fast and deep, but I’ve never seen him fall for someone like he did Jane. So yeah, I paid attention. I watched them both. That night at the club? She seemed happy at first but spent the rest of the night ignoring him.”

  “She was nervous!”

  “Then maybe she should have told him so. From where I was standing, she seemed to like him just fine, but not once did she seem to be as nuts for him as he was for her.”

  “You are so full of shit it’s practically coming out of your ears.”

  “I—”

  “And what about George Wickham?”

  The color seemed to drain from Will’s face and she felt a thrill of victory.

  “What about,” he said through clenched teeth, “George Wickham?”

  “I mean what about what you did to him.”

  “What I did?”

  She nodded, encouraged. “You mean you don’t remember ruining his life? Too much of an everyday type thing for you?”

  “I ruined his life.” He stared at her a moment longer, then barked a laugh and tore his hand through his hair. “I ruined his life. He told you that.”

  Another nod, this one fueled by renegade nerve. “He told me everything. The drugs. The book you put them in. How you set him up so you wouldn’t get caught.”

  Will was staring at her like he’d never seen her before. “He told you all this.”

  “Yes.”

  “When?”

  “Weeks ago.”

  “So all this time…” He breathed hard, his nostrils flared, his chest rising and falling in a hard cadence. “He told you this and you still slept with me.”

  “Hey, my body doesn’t always know what’s good for it. Case in point.” She shrugged, her pulse beginning to race, though she didn’t know why. Maybe it was the adrenaline talking. Knowing that finally everything was out and she could go back to her world with Will Darcy finally consigned to the past mistake bin rather than the present one. “But I’m hoping to get back on the straight and narrow now. Starting Friday.”

  It was clear he didn’t want to know, but he asked anyway. “What’s Friday?”

  “A date. Wickham and I—”

  But the words stopped before they could come out. Will went from living statue to his own version of the Hulk in two seconds flat, his face contorted with enough rage and pain that Elizabeth felt she could choke on air.

  Right then, she wanted to say something—anything—but she also didn’t because, fuck him.

  Except…

  In the end, it was easier just to open the door.

  Something told her Will wouldn’t stop her this time.

  And he didn’t. Instead, he firmed his jaw, gave her a tight nod, and walked out.

  21

  Leaving without saying anything might have been stupid, but in the moment, Will hadn’t been flush with options. The room had seemed drained of air. He wasn’t sure he took a breath at all until he’d stepped back outside.

  Of course, then, his mind had exploded with things he needed to say. Or rather shout, preferably while shaking something. But the moment had passed, and before he knew it, he found himself storming through the door to Netherfield Heights and nearly claiming Caroline as a casualty in the process.

  Fortunately for him, Caroline didn’t seem to notice. “Will,” she said, grabbing his arm. “I’ve told Charlie, but we’re having a Realis Society meeting here tonight, so if you could spare us the study, I… Will?”

  “Yes, fine. Whatever.” He didn’t so much as spare her a glance as he tugged himself free. “I’ll be in my room all night.”

  “Is everything all right?” Caroline called after him, but he didn’t pause. He was a man on a mission.

  To get stinking fucking drunk.

  So he bulldozed his way to the kitchen, skipped right over the cheap stuff Charlie had on reserve and went straight to the bottles that, if sold, could fund a scholarship student’s entire semester.

  He didn’t know if price made the booze taste any better, but that was the theory he’d work with. In the end, it all boiled down to the fact that this was an occasion for alcohol. Lots of it.

  Anything to numb the open pulsing, painful wound that was his heart right now.

  When he came back into the common area, Caroline gave him a wide berth, doing her best to look busy. Which was fine. He didn’t want to talk and she would be too preoccupied with her society meeting to try and play therapist.

  There was no one who could make him feel better at the moment.

  Thanks for deigning to slum it with me for a few days, but I think it’s time we both headed back to the real world.

  Yeah. Time to get good and sloshed, but he had the wherewithal to wait until he was behind his door to pop the bottle of—well, whatever—open and take a hard swig. It burned all the way down, but in that pleasant, albeit punishing way that had him swallowing another gulp the next second.

  The place in his chest still throbbed.

  Will didn’t know what was worse—the fact that he’d believed something that wasn’t true, that Elizabeth believed something that wasn’t true, or that he felt now there was a chance he hadn’t known her at all. Not really.

  People had sex without feelings all the time. He knew this. He’d done it, though once had been enough for him to understand he needed a connection. He’d been content, if not happy, thinking that whatever was going on between him and Elizabeth was surprising to them both, but there had always been the assumption that she…

  That she felt something.

  Well, that was the problem, wasn’t it? She’d felt things. Many, from the sound of it. She’d believed him capable of something horrible and she’d still gone to bed with him.

  Will stopped, leaned against his bedroom door, his mind at once assaulted with a collage of memories from the night before. Elizabeth smiling at him. Elizabeth closing her mouth around his cock. Elizabeth rolling the condom over his shaft. Elizabeth sinking onto him.

  All that—every moment—had been stolen. Meant for someone else. She hadn’t
even wanted to have sex, but they’d ended up in bed. His bed, the one made up with sheets that likely still smelled of her.

  None of it had been real. Not what he’d felt last night or the hope he’d awoken with this morning. While he’d been fantasizing about the nonexistent future, she’d been making plans with another man.

  Will took another hearty swig and looked up. The room felt haunted now; everywhere he looked, he saw her ghost. She was standing where he was, sopping wet and looking at him with wide eyes. She was on the bed, eyeing him hungrily as he stepped into the room with only a towel wrapped around his waist. She was whipping off her shirt and falling into his arms.

  God, he’d been such a fool.

  But for her… Will didn’t think he’d stood a chance. Not from the moment she’d dressed him down at the inaugural party thrown at Greggii House. No one had ever spoken to him like that, and it had been invigorating. Hell, no one ever challenged him, here or elsewhere. Talking with her was a sport all in itself, and as exasperated as she’d left him, he’d also…

  Well, he’d liked her.

  He’d liked her so much he’d concocted a fantasy. And the entire time, she’d believed him capable of…

  Well, he didn’t know what. With Wickham, it could be pretty much anything.

  Fucking Wickham. That part of his life was supposed to be over. After everything Georgiana had been through—after the hell that was the past few years and rearranging his world to get back on the path he’d neglected—he thought he’d earned a break.

  But of course it was Wickham. Anything that Will touched—anything good in his life—Wickham found a way to poison.

  Will tightened his jaw, his gaze falling on the laptop at his desk. He might not be able to defend himself regarding the action he’d taken with Jane, but if nothing else, Elizabeth needed to know the truth about the guy she was going out with this Friday.

  And he needed a way to exorcise the sudden cacophony of words screaming in his head. An endless parade of things he should have said when he’d been in her room. Because beyond the hurt was something else—something he hadn’t felt since the day Georgiana had made that phone call.

  The flame inside him flickered at the memory, pulsing toward familiar territory. It had been a long while since he’d let himself get angry, but hell, anger was better than heartache. Anger didn’t make him feel pathetic.

  Anger gave him direction.

  Decision made, Will plopped into his desk chair and powered up his computer. He performed a quick search of the campus database and pulled up Elizabeth’s email address. Right there next to her student ID photo and her declared major. And for a second, the anger dulled, summoning back that awful pang from before. It struck him so hard he was surprised when it didn’t knock him out of his seat.

  Her brown hair hung around her shoulders, sexy-messy in a way that defied logic. Her eyes were full of mirth. Her beautiful mouth was quirked in a saucy smirk, somehow managing to look confident and not cocky. She had the same look on her face that had drawn him to her from the beginning—the kind that said she knew something he didn’t, but she would be glad to share it if asked. The more people in on the joke, the better, the photo seemed to say. No one was a stranger to Elizabeth.

  Not even those who should be.

  Wickham’s face rose to the surface of his mind again, and the pang bowed out in favor of anger once more. Expelling a deep breath, Will pulled up his email program and, after a few false starts, decided the best way to get this out was to shut off his filter, lest he’d be writing and deleting the same line for the rest of the night.

  And what the hell did he care about how he sounded? Elizabeth had made her opinion of him perfectly clear.

  All he had to gain from this was the satisfaction of the last word. Those things he’d thought of saying only after he was away from her. He’d use them all.

  And he would not hold back.

  22

  “Oh my god, are you okay?” Jane asked, dropping her backpack, her face stricken. “What happened?”

  Elizabeth shook her head, willing herself not to burst into tears. She’d been doing all right, she’d thought. Better than she would have expected, considering the conversation with Will had gone about as well as your average train wreck.

  “Nothing,” Elizabeth said at last. “I’m just tired.”

  “Bull. Something happened.” Jane rushed over to her bed and pulled her into a hug. “Talk to me.”

  “I don’t want to bore you with—”

  “Lizzie.” She pulled back, her eyes narrowing. “You have two choices. Tell me freely or I’ll yodel at full volume until you do.”

  Elizabeth stared at her for a moment. “Yodel?”

  “Very, very poorly.”

  “Is there such a thing as good yodeling?”

  “No.” Jane sat back, crossing her arms. “Or maybe I’ll just guess. Was it Will?”

  There was that pang again. “Huh? W-why would it be Will?”

  “Because you’re not as stealthy as you think when you’re talking about a guy you had amazing sex with. That was not the toughest mystery to crack.”

  “Will and I haven’t seen each other in weeks!”

  “Except that class you guys have together and the way you both disappeared after running into each other at the club.” Jane arched an eyebrow. “Are you forgetting that I ran into him in the hall as he was leaving that night? You guys were fooling around.”

  “We were n—okay, yes, we were fooling around. I didn’t realize it was that obvious.”

  Jane snorted. “I’m a virgin, not an infant. You looked really…relaxed when I got home.”

  Elizabeth let out a burst of laughter before covering her mouth. “Fair enough. I should not have doubted your sex-radar.”

  “Indeed.” Jane nodded, looking immensely pleased with herself before the concern returned to her eyes. “So, what happened? Did you guys fight?”

  That was putting it mildly. She chewed the inside of her cheek for a moment in a bid for time, then released a long sigh and glanced down. “I suck.”

  “What happened?”

  “This whole thing with Will has been a disaster,” she said. That awful, chest-crushing sensation returned with a vengeance. Elizabeth inhaled deeply but her lungs burned as though denied oxygen. “I don’t even know how it happened.”

  Jane offered a soft, Jane-like smile that made Elizabeth feel better and worse at the same time. “You guys have chemistry. Everyone can see it.”

  “I don’t want chemistry with him. You know what he did to Wickham.”

  Jane pursed her lips. “I know what Wickham said he did to him, based on what you told me. But do we know if that’s even true?”

  “What reason would Wickham have to lie?”

  “Well, he likes you, doesn’t he? I’d say turning his main competition into a super villain is a good way to come out ahead, don’t you?”

  “I told him Will wasn’t competition,” Elizabeth said.

  “Yes, and I’m sure you were very convincing.”

  “He didn’t even know I knew Will when we first met.” Though he’d found out pretty fast. “I told him what I’d thought about him and it wasn’t flattering.”

  There was a long pause, and the skepticism in Jane’s eyes didn’t go away. Which, naturally, made Elizabeth feel even more like shit and she didn’t care to investigate why.

  “I don’t know,” Jane said at last. “I mentioned Wickham to Caroline once and—”

  “You what?”

  “Just once. It was right after you told me.”

  A half-sigh, half-groan tore through Elizabeth’s lips and her body went slack. “Jane—”

  “I just wanted to see if she knew anything. Obviously, the Bingleys have been close to Will’s family for years, so if there had been anything there, she’d know.”

  “Yes, and she’s head over ass in love with Will, so you’re not exactly going to get an objective opinion.”

&nb
sp; “Perhaps. She didn’t say much and I didn’t push for more. I know Wickham asked you to keep that under your hat.”

  “Yeah,” Elizabeth muttered dryly. “Can’t imagine why.”

  “But Caroline said—”

  “I don’t care what Caroline said. Caroline is not my idea of a character witness. Hell, if she thinks Wickham’s a creep then that’s pretty much an endorsement for the rest of society.”

  Jane expelled a deep breath. “Just because she’s not the nicest person doesn’t mean she’s wrong all the time.”

  “Yeah, but it doesn’t give her the best odds from where I’m sitting.” Elizabeth shook her head, turned and made a beeline for her bed. “It doesn’t matter anyway. The thing with Will is over. There shouldn’t have been a thing in the first place.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I’m not. I think I’m going to sleep for about seventeen years.”

  “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry you guys…broke up.”

  “We weren’t together.”

  “Well, you were something. And you’re not now.”

  “This, by the way, is why I swore off relationships.”

  “Yeah…” Jane pressed her lips together. “How’s that going for you?”

  This time when she laughed, she kept laughing until she cried.

  * * *

  There were two different types of hangovers—the traditional kind following a night of drunken debauchery and the emotional kind that followed a night of full on, snot-nosed ugly crying. While neither hangover was Elizabeth’s idea of a good time, it occurred to her, as she rolled over and the room seemed to roll with her, that she preferred the former. At least traditional hangovers had the added benefit of alcohol. There was nothing fun about waking up feeling like three-day-old road-kill, then remembering why.