A Higher Education

by Rosalie Stanton

  It took three full sweeps of the classroom before her gaze landed on the familiar, smirking face of the douche from a few weeks back. Elizabeth had managed to ignore him in the subsequent class periods—hadn’t hurt that she’d been preoccupied with thoughts of Will—but now…

  Now she was just pissed.

  “Seriously, dude,” she said with a sigh. “Who pissed in your Cheerios?”

  “I just think it’s funny, is all.”

  “And I just want you out of my class,” Professor Greenfield snapped. “Seriously, Mr. Zelner, what—”

  “Wickham’s told everyone how nasty you were,” the assface continued. “Not to mention easy and clingy. So I just thought it might be of interest to the class that Elizabeth Sluts-Around is using her homework to justify—”

  “That is enough!” Professor Greenfield’s voice rang throughout the room. “Mr. Zelner, I’m not sure if you’re just in my class for kicks or if you truly don’t give a flying crap about your semester grade. But I’d like to remind you—all of you—that this isn’t high school and you’re not required to be here. I don’t give a good goddamn how much money your parents have donated to the school or which campus halls bear your surname. Unprovoked verbal attacks are never okay in my classroom and they are certainly not okay during a presentation. Mr. Zelner, please show yourself out. If you’re fortunate, I’ll let you skate by the semester with an Incomplete, but I’d be very careful with your next steps if I were you.”

  For a moment, Elizabeth would have sworn the woman breathed fire. The words were almost enough to make her forget that her skin was melting off.

  Because it wasn’t what Zelner had said about her that had her unnerved. It was what he’d said about Wickham.

  Wickham’s told everyone how nasty you were. Not to mention easy and clingy.

  Of course. Elizabeth bit the inside of her cheek to keep from screaming. She barely noticed as Zelner rose from his seat, gathered his things and stalked out. A dull buzzing filled her ears.

  Fuck, she was so stupid. Of course Wickham had said something. Of course he had.

  Then her eyes went to Will, whose face was turned in the direction of Zelner’s desk, his skin red with what she recognized as anger.

  And something within her—something she hadn’t known existed—abruptly shattered.

  * * *

  Despite his many attempts to push her from his mind, Will had found that not thinking about Elizabeth or the email or anything tangentially related to either was futile. Rather, his mind had turned into a station programmed solely with Elizabeth and the greatest hits of their non-relationship.

  Today was the first day he’d allowed himself to look at Elizabeth, and he hadn’t missed the way her eyes seemed drawn to his, either.

  He also hadn’t missed the horror on her face when Zelner had mentioned Wickham. Horror and disgust and yes, some guilt. Her mouth had fallen open and her eyes had gone saucer-like. Her skin, which he’d only seen color when she was angry or aroused, had bloomed bright red. And she’d suddenly found looking at him a challenge.

  Granted, the urge to talk to her had been there all along. Itching beneath the surface, desperate for recognition. The first time he’d seen her after sending the email he’d had to bite his tongue to keep from asking about it. About her. About anything. Time had made this more bearable, but not as quickly or as effectively as he’d hoped. And today had walked back all that wonderful progress because he’d wanted to grab her and tell her Zelner was an ass who hero-worshiped Wickham for reasons no sane person could explain. That much Will had gathered almost instantly in his now nightly habit of lurking on his former friend’s Facebook page. Wickham had launched an all-out cyber attack against Elizabeth with lavishly embellished posts that had quickly escalated from graphic details of all the sex they’d had to essentially painting her as a crazy stalker who was one bad turn away from leaving him a boiled rabbit. Zelner was a frequent guest star in the comment section, and he’d made his opinion of Elizabeth more than clear. Wickham had acted as he always had once he realized he had a captive audience and the stories had become more and more outrageous.

  Will had been under the assumption that Elizabeth knew this was going on mainly because it seemed everyone knew about it. Hell, he couldn’t go anywhere on campus without hearing some sordid reference to it, often coded in the slew of inside jokes that had been birthed in the mile-long comments section. He’d thought that Elizabeth, being Elizabeth, had decided to ignore the talk in her brash, unapologetic way and go on with her life.

  Today had effectively destroyed that thought, and he’d wanted—like he couldn’t remember wanting anything else—to go to her and tell her it was all right. The people who knew her knew it wasn’t true and the rest of campus could go to hell.

  Instead, he’d walked away the second Professor Greenfield dismissed the class. He’d given Elizabeth his word he wouldn’t bother her again and he intended to keep it. If she wanted to talk to him, she would. He knew her well enough to know that.

  In the meantime, he’d have to content himself with reporting Wickham’s posts as abusive. And sending screenshots to the administration so they knew what was going on. No matter what had happened with him and Elizabeth, she didn’t deserve Wickham’s smear campaign.

  But beyond reporting Wickham, this had to end. Will was sick of being sick over this. What had happened couldn’t be undone, and no amount of wishing would compel her to end the silence between them. And even if it did, what good would that serve? He’d come here to get his goddamned education and instead had spent his first semester acting like a teenager who just discovered the joys of masturbation. That he wasn’t outright flunking any of his classes was a miracle, either of the divine or financial variety.

  Will dropped his book bag onto his desk chair and fished his phone out of his pocket. If nothing else, speaking with Georgiana would provide him with a much-needed break from the torture that was his head. And thankfully, very soon, he’d be through with the semester from Hell and everything associated with it.

  Will collapsed back on his bed as he tapped Georgiana’s number. The phone rang once, twice, and just as he began to compose the message he’d leave her when it went to voicemail, she answered.

  “Hey Will,” came the weak greeting, followed by a snivel.

  Will went ramrod straight. “What’s wrong?”

  “What? What makes you think something’s wrong?”

  “Well, the fact that something’s wrong, for starters. Why are you crying?”

  “I’m not crying.”

  “Georgie, this is me you’re talking to. I am not other people. What’s wrong?”

  There was nothing for a moment, then a grumble sounded through the line.

  “What was that?” Will asked.

  “I said I knew I shouldn’t have answered. You’re going to flip your lid and it’s nothing.”

  Will’s throat tightened. “It’s not nothing. It’s never nothing.”

  “It’s just a part of the process, okay? Today happens to be a bad day. I get to have bad days.”

  “I think your definition of bad day needs to be worked on.”

  Georgiana was quiet a moment longer. When she started speaking again, her voice was low, soft, but rough in that telling way that Will knew all too well and hated, because there was nothing he could do to remove the pain.

  “I had a panic attack,” she said. “I watched…something I shouldn’t have watched and it reminded… It triggered something of—”

  “What did you watch?”

  “Does it matter?”

  Will held his breath, then released it on a long sigh. No, he supposed it didn’t…except he’d want to make sure there were no copies of whatever it was within a ten mile radius of Pemberley. Perhaps he should look into parental locks for access to media. Was that even a thing anymore?

  Fuck. This parenting by proxy thing sucked.

  “Georgiana,” he said again, doing his best to cu
rb his temper, “I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me.”

  “This isn’t something you can help with. I just gotta go through it on my own.”

  “That’s bullshit and you know it.”

  A long sigh sounded on her end. “Look, I know this is hard for you to accept, but there really isn’t anything you can do. It’s one of those things we talked about before you left, okay? You told me you knew and understood I wasn’t going to be one hundred percent every day.”

  “And you told me you’d call on those days so we could talk,” he replied. “What did you watch?”

  “It’s not important.”

  “If it triggered you, it damn sure is.”

  Another brief silence. He heard her swallow.

  “It’s a Netflix show,” she said at last. “I was sort’ve bingeing it. A girl in group said it was weirdly cathartic for her and the counselor was on the fence about recommending it and I wanted to get my own idea, so—”

  “So you knew this could trigger you and you watched it anyway?”

  “I knew parts of it could. There was another part I…” Georgiana trailed off, then drew in a deep breath. “I think if I’d seen it at any other time, I’d’ve been okay. Just the subject matter and this time of year and it’s a whole mess of crazy inside the head of one Georgiana Darcy.”

  Will closed his eyes. This settled things nicely. “I’m coming home.”

  “What? No! Will, you—”

  “If I leave here within an hour, I can be there by morning.”

  “Fitzwilliam Darcy, don’t you dare!”

  “It’s cute when you try to tell me what to do.”

  “Please, Will.” Her voice had grown thick, and he knew she was one good shove away from sobbing. “Please don’t do this. Not again. You promised me you’d—”

  “And you promised me you’d let me know when stuff like this happens,” he replied. “Look, I was already thinking about cutting home early. This just made the decision for me.”

  “No! This is dumb. Look, I feel fine. I—”

  “I had one class project and that’s behind me. All I have left are finals, and three of those are papers that will be a lot easier to focus on if I’m not down the hall from Charlie.”

  Georgiana sniffed. “And the ones that aren’t papers?”

  “I’ll work something out.”

  “Will—”

  “Georgiana, it’s good to be the king. Trust me, it’ll all work out.”

  There was another pause, then she barked a laugh. “That’s not fair,” she complained. “Quoting Mel Brooks on me. Cheater.”

  “I play dirty when it matters.” Will heaved out a breath and ran a hand through his hair. Each second that passed, he liked this new plan more and more. He felt he could breathe easier just knowing he’d be away from campus—from the mess he’d made of his life.

  From Elizabeth.

  “Cheating’s never okay,” Georgiana said. “And if you use me as an excuse to not get your degree, I swear I’m going to run away from home.”

  “I’m not using you as an excuse for that.”

  “But you are using me as an excuse?”

  He hesitated. “Let’s just say I could do with some home-time myself right about now. I need to get my mind off some things.”

  That seemed to pique her interest. “Oh?” Georgiana said, her tone careful. “Some things?”

  “Yeah. That’s right.”

  “You break up with your girlfriend?”

  Will scowled, pulled away to glare at the phone, then pressed it again to his ear. “I never had a girlfriend.”

  “What about what Caroline said?”

  “Caroline was wrong. Big shock.”

  “Yeah, I didn’t buy it then and I still don’t. I know you. If you’re having trouble focusing, there was definitely a woman involved.”

  “Now I’m having trouble focusing?”

  “I’m glad you admit it. Admitting it’s the first step to recovery.”

  Annoyed as he was, Will felt his mouth twitch. If nothing else, learning that he had problems of his own seemed to have put Georgiana in a good mood. “When have I ever been distracted by a woman?”

  “Never. But you’re also usually never distracted. So what’s her name?”

  Will’s throat tightened. “It’s not important.”

  “I think that’s for me to decide. Spill.”

  He waited a moment, considering, then blew out a long breath. “Tell you what,” he said, “once I get home, I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”

  “I’m going to hold you to that, you know. You show up and I’m gonna follow you around until you tell me everything.”

  “Don’t you think I know that?”

  “And you still want to come home?” Georgiana let out a low whistle. “All right. Yeah. Get your butt here. I need some deets.”

  Will grinned in spite of himself. If there was going to be a silver lining regarding what had happened with Elizabeth, he was glad it involved Georgiana.

  She was the only person in the world who could help convince his heart that the pain had been worth it.

  26

  The second he rounded the bend and Pemberley came into view, Will knew he’d done the right thing. The tension he’d carried with him from Meryton College seemed to evaporate.

  There truly was no place like home.

  He parked in the vast gravel circle drive that his father had sworn would be paved one day, but that day had never come. Cement didn’t have character, his mother had argued, and it didn’t look period appropriate. Will could appreciate that—appreciate the way he knew the gravel would crunch under his feet, the familiar clanking of tiny rocks hitting the air. He figured he could be anywhere, blindfolded, and know the Pemberley drive just from the sound.

  Here, the outside world didn’t exist. Nothing existed, especially not women who may or may not have shattered his heart.

  Will heaved a sigh and threw his book bag over his shoulder. He hadn’t bothered packing clothes or toiletries—he had more than enough of those at home. The only things he needed were the books, notes, and assignments that he was expected to keep up with in absentia. Even the weight of all the work ahead of him couldn’t diminish the warmth of returning to the one place in the world he truly belonged.

  It didn’t hurt that the second he opened the door, Georgiana plowed him over with the force of her hug.

  “You assface!”

  Will blinked at the mop of strawberry-blonde currently plastered against him, then chuckled and wrapped his arms around her. “Missed you too.”

  Georgiana drew away almost immediately, her sparkling blue eyes—their mother’s eyes—sharpened into daggers. “I can’t believe you actually did this. Do you have any idea how dumb you are?”

  “I have a feeling you’ll let me know.”

  “Seriously, Will. I—”

  Will held up a hand, silencing her. “We talked about this before I left. Plus there was the text message campaign and the never ending phone calls while I was on the road which, by the way, weren’t at all distracting, thank you.”

  Georgiana crossed her arms and sniffed. “It’s not my fault you didn’t turn around.”

  “No, it’s not,” he said, his tone serious. “I know you have Colleen here during the day, but that’s not the same as a full-time older brother.”

  “Will, I’m not a kid anymore.”

  “That might be the dumbest thing I’ve heard you say, but okay.”

  She rolled her eyes at him.

  “Believe me,” Will said, his voice dropping. “This is not a referendum on what I believe you can or can’t handle. I wanted to come home as I believe I have now assured you for the seven hundredth time.”

  “Right,” she replied, arching an eyebrow as her pinched expression melted into something worse. The only thing more dangerous than a pissed off Georgiana was a conniving Georgiana. “Because Fitzwilliam’s in looooove.”

  Though
he’d known to expect it, Will couldn’t help the way his gut twisted. “It doesn’t matter. It’s over. There really was nothing to begin with.”

  “Yeah, that’ll work.”

  “Georgie—”

  She rolled her eyes. “You know how this is gonna go, right? You withhold information from me and I’ll hide your homework.”

  Will threw her a narrowed look. “You’ll jeopardize my education because you’re angry with me for coming home early and jeopardizing my education. A teenager’s logic, through and through.”

  “Come on! She must be something special if she has your knickers in a wad.”

  “My what?”

  She shrugged. “It’s British for underwear.”

  “I know it’s… That’s not the point. When did you start talking like that?”

  “Umm, binge-watching Dr. Who, duh.” Georgiana rocked on her heels, grinning like an imp. “Will, your coming back early was contingent upon my learning about your girlfriend.”

  “Funny enough. I thought it was contingent upon me having a key and my name on the property title.”

  “You prom—”

  Will held up a hand, unable to keep his lips from kicking up in a grin. God, he’d missed her. “I know,” he said, then nodded at the sweeping stairway that took up the right side of the entry hall. “Let a guy at least get to his room and change before you start grilling him.”

  Georgiana furrowed her brow, suspicious. “You’re not weaseling out of telling me all about her.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

  Namely because he’d already resigned himself to telling her about Elizabeth. At least the parts that mattered.

  A half hour later, freshly changed and showered, Will meandered into the grandiose front parlor—the same his mother had forbidden him and Georgiana from setting foot in as children. Too many family heirlooms, breakables, and pretty furniture to risk chocolate-stained fingers and childlike clumsiness. He found Georgiana on the antique settee by the fireplace—it had become her spot after the Wickham ordeal, particularly if she wanted to talk or read or nap. He’d once suggested bringing a television in here—Georgiana was something of a video-game junkie—but she’d refused. As much as possible, she wanted the house to remain as it had been before their parents had died. He didn’t know if she’d ever outgrow that.