A Higher Education

by Rosalie Stanton

  She didn’t even know if Pemberley was the right name. She’d only heard the Darcy home referenced a few times.

  Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit.

  “Miss?”

  Elizabeth gave her head another shake, well aware she looked like an idiot but unable to help herself. “Sorry,” she said and forced a hard laugh. “I… Pemberley just sounded familiar to me. It caught me off guard.”

  “Oh.” Colleen’s smile was back. “Well, that’s not all that surprising. The Darcys—”

  “The Darcys?”

  “Yes—those Darcys, of Darcy Media Group. Their ancestral home has graced the cover of several publications, including People and Time Magazine. They—”

  “I’ve got to go,” Elizabeth blurted and turned on her heel. Shit, fuck, damn. “I’m sorry, this was a mistake.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  Well, for starters, everything. “I just realized…” What, exactly? That she’d banged the owner of the house she was standing in, accused him of being a drug peddler, and forced him to air the family’s dirty laundry in an effort to clear his name? That she’d been bound and determined to find reasons to hate him, except for when she was shoving him into closets and sucking him off? That he’d told her he loved her and she’d thrown that back in his face?

  Elizabeth felt her eyes begin to well and realized, to her horror, she was on the verge of losing it.

  “Miss Bennet?” Colleen said, closing a warm hand around Elizabeth’s shoulder. “Are you…?”

  She jumped and plastered on a wide smile so fake it hurt. “I just realized that I go to school with the owner,” she said. “It threw me and now I feel really weird.”

  A nice, abridged version of the truth.

  “Oh!” Colleen was all smiles again. “You know Fitzwilliam?”

  “I know Will.” And she was terrified he might round the corner at any minute. What would he think to see her standing in his house? Well, he’d think she was psychotic. Or a stalker. Or a psychotic stalker. “So you see, it’s best if I leave.”

  A blink. “I don’t quite follow your logic.”

  Well, no, she wouldn’t. Elizabeth rubbed her lips together. “I just think it might be weird. For Will. If he knew someone that he…sees every day was in his house just randomly.”

  “I assure you, Fitzwilliam is fine with my allowing guests into Pemberley, so long as Charlotte or another friend vouches for them and his sister isn’t on the premises. Just a precaution. I doubt he’d mind it if you met her.”

  Oh shit. His sister. This kept getting better and better. “But he knows me and I just think it’s…different than someone he doesn’t know.”

  Colleen arched a cool brow. “I can promise you, there aren’t many people Fitzwilliam has outright barred from the house. It certainly wouldn’t matter to him if you were a classmate. In fact, he would be much more bothered if he learned someone he knew didn’t feel welcome in his home.”

  Fuck, she hadn’t thought of that. Obviously Colleen would tell Will she’d been here. There was no getting out of this. It was either stay here and pretend like nothing was wrong or run back to Huntsford House and have Will concoct a bunch of reasons as to why she might have shown up at his doorstep after the messy explosion of their non-relationship. Staying wasn’t the best option, either, but if Will did happen to return home, she’d at least have the opportunity to explain that she actually wasn’t a crazy stalker weirdo and had tried to leave the second she’d realized where she was.

  “All right,” Elizabeth said at last, her pulse thundering. “Is…is Will here?”

  “He went into Raleigh today to visit the office,” Colleen replied. “And his sister is with friends. I don’t expect either of them back for hours.”

  So it was a matter of what story Colleen Reynolds would tell Will—that Elizabeth bolted or that she, after a rocky start, managed to collect her panicking ass and act like an adult.

  Option B it was.

  “Sorry, I was just…thrown by this being a classmate’s house. But if I’m not going to be intruding on him, I’d love the tour. Thank you.”

  The effect was immediate. Colleen flashed a brilliant smile and gestured toward the room on the right. “We’ll begin here, in what was formerly the gentlemen’s parlor. If you’ve toured enough of these old homes, you know that, while entertaining, men would sequester themselves away to smoke cigars, drink brandy, and talk politics.”

  “Yes,” Elizabeth said, taking a quick look around. Aside from a few scattered antique pieces, the room looked nothing like the others she’d toured. It was fully decorated for the holidays, for one thing—a huge Christmas tree stood proud against one of the floor-to-ceiling windows, decked out with ribbons and garland and a buttload of carefully chosen blue and silver ornaments. There was a piece of holly or greenery everywhere she looked, but not in such a way that it seemed overwhelming or tasteless. Even the painting above the fireplace was holiday-themed—a winter landscape, complete with a sleigh and a laughing family.

  The other homes she’d toured had been subtly seasonal. This was excessive.

  Elizabeth shook her head and tore her attention from the décor. Beneath the Christmas explosion was a sleek desk in the far corner. In the middle of the room was an elegant coffee table crafted from a dark wood—she didn’t know her woods well enough to guess which kind—and flanked by what she knew was an antique fainting couch and another period-settee. Pretty to look at, but not what she’d call comfortable. A long, narrow table ran along the wall by the door, hosting two regal looking lamps and a small selection of old books. It was a marriage of old and new. Just the kind of thing she’d wanted to see.

  Why did it have to be his house?”

  “You’ll notice the ceilings. They were quite high back in the day to help promote air circulation,” Colleen was saying. “Seventeen feet here on the bottom floor. That crown molding is original to the house, hand carved and fashioned out of horsehair plaster. The Cornelius and Baker chandelier depicts the four seasons. The fireplace has the original marble—”

  “Is this Will’s office?” The question came from nowhere, but Elizabeth had turned her attention back to the desk, picturing him spending his nights there. Possibly checking email. Seeing things about her that Wickham had published online, maybe even believing them.

  Colleen paused in the middle of her speech. “He does some work down here, yes,” she said, doing her best to recover. “He has another office upstairs. I am sorry to tell you the upstairs rooms are not part of the tour.”

  “No, of course not.” Elizabeth pressed her lips together and waited for the speech to continue, though her mind was not at all engaged with following what was being said. Instead, she caught herself throwing hurried glances to the front, jumping at every sound, and certain that Will was seconds away from rushing inside and demanding to know what she was doing here.

  Colleen led her from the former men’s parlor to the ladies parlor—“Where the women of the day would play music and do their needlework while the men talked business”—and glossed over the current uses for the room, which appeared to be where all the formal family pieces were stored in pristine condition. She led her across the hall to a fully modern kitchen that even Martha Stewart would shit herself over, then to the formal dining room that looked like something plucked from one of those fancy Masterpiece Theatre productions. Directly across from the staircase was a room that had exploded with even more Christmas, but unlike the first room, this one appeared downright cozy.

  Another Christmas tree was positioned, not in front of the window, but tucked in the corner against the inside wall. The elegant ornaments that had comprised the other tree’s decorations were nowhere to be found. Rather, this tree was weighted down with novelty ornaments—everything from a pink elephant to a Death Star model. A Santa straddling a Coke bottle looked ready to declare war on another that was riding a Pepsi. The lights were a bizarre marriage of vintage and modern, and the floor sur
rounding the tree was dominated with packages—some exquisitely wrapped and others a cry for help.

  “This is the living area,” Colleen said as though it wasn’t perfectly obvious. “The informal living area. I’m sorry, I meant to close this off before you arrived.”

  Elizabeth shook her head, looking now to the massive flat-screen mounted to the wall above the elaborate marble fireplace, and the cushy midnight blue couch and sofa combination. There was also a recliner that could easily fit four people, and a foosball table at the other end of the room against the window. Best of all, opposite the television and behind the sofas, massive mahogany bookshelves had been carved into the wall. And the shelves were stuffed and stacked and overflowing.

  “This is amazing,” she breathed. “Why would you close this off?”

  Colleen sniffed. “It’s not suitable for guests.”

  A phone began to ring somewhere within the house, stealing whatever Elizabeth had been about to say right off her tongue. Which, honestly, was likely for the best.

  “Excuse me,” Colleen said. “I’ll try to be quick.”

  The next thing Elizabeth knew, she’d been left alone in the center hall, haunting the doorway of what she would forever refer to as her dream room from this moment forward. She turned her attention back to the tree with its funky garland and unique collection of ornaments, and the pang that accompanied her every thought of Will struck her square in the chest.

  Elizabeth blinked hard, her eyes stinging. The smart thing to do right now would be to use Colleen’s absence to escape this mess before she got herself in any deeper. The longer she hung around, the higher the likelihood of Will returning home—business trip or not—and that was a conversation she didn’t want to have.

  She’d done enough damage where he was concerned.

  Elizabeth heaved a sigh and wiped her eyes, forcing herself away from the room of awesome.

  Just in time to see the heavy front door swing open.

  30

  Will was seeing things. He had to be, because there was no explanation on this or any other planet as to why Elizabeth Bennet would be standing in the entry hall of Pemberley.

  Yet for a hallucination, it did a remarkable job of imitating the real thing.

  “Oh god,” she said, then covered her mouth.

  He blinked, struggling to find words. The most he could come up with was her name. “Elizabeth.”

  “Oh god.” She wrung her hands, the action so un-Elizabeth like that he nearly convinced himself that he was seeing things. “I… I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to… To be here.”

  Will nodded as though he understood. He didn’t. “Oh.”

  “I mean, I meant to be here but I didn’t know here was your house. Which I know sounds ridiculous but it’s true. It just happened.”

  “You just…happened to walk into my house.”

  “No. I mean yes. I mean no. I mean… I’m staying in Derbyshire. At a bed and breakfast. And Charlotte said she could get me in here.” Elizabeth paused, her eyes going wide. Eyes that he noticed, for the first time, were bright with something he could have sworn were tears. “But I didn’t know here was you. I mean this house. I mean Pemberley. I’ve been hitting some of the touristy places and she said… Well, she thought I’d like it. And I do. It’s beautiful. But I didn’t know it was your house. And I tried to leave the second I did.”

  Will nodded again, no more enlightened. His mind was still trying to reconcile the fact that she was here at all. It wasn’t unusual for locals to send tourists to Pemberley, and Colleen Reynolds did her best to accommodate each request. The housekeeper had been with the family since before he was born and considered the home as much hers as theirs. She relished any opportunity to show the place off.

  “What are you doing in Derbyshire?” he asked, lacking anything else to say.

  “Sightseeing.”

  “Why?”

  At that, Elizabeth arched an eyebrow, and the look was so refreshingly her that any lingering doubts that she was truly standing in front of him abruptly vanished. “Because that’s typically what one does on vacation.”

  “Why Derbyshire?”

  “Why not?”

  Because this was the one place she hadn’t been able to touch him, dammit. His refuge from the memory of things that hadn’t been real to begin with.

  “It’s nearly Christmas,” he said.

  “I know.”

  “Why aren’t you with family?”

  Elizabeth cocked her hip. “How is that any of your business?”

  “You’re standing inside my home. That makes it my business.”

  “I told you, I’m here by accident. I wouldn’t have come if I’d known it was your house.”

  “You didn’t know it was my house.”

  “That’s right.”

  That Charlotte Collins could have referred someone without mentioning the name of the home or the owners was a little difficult to believe, but Will decided not to push the issue. “So for Christmas, you’ve decided to tour other people’s houses.”

  “How I spend my break is none of your concern.”

  “Again, it is when you wind up here.” Will dragged a hand through his hair. His brain had not yet fully come online, stalled somewhere between acceptance and fantasy. And without warning, he became overly aware of the fact that the last time he’d spoken to Elizabeth, it had been to tell her he loved her.

  Right before she’d thrown those words back into his face.

  Right before he’d stormed out.

  Right before he’d unloaded the melodrama that was his recent past into an email she’d never responded to.

  When he met her eyes again, he found them round and full of the same misgivings. As though she’d only just arrived at the same conclusion and had no better idea of how to move forward than he did.

  But she was nothing if not brave. He watched as she swallowed, the long column of her utterly kissable neck as flawless as he remembered. His mouth went dry.

  “I am sorry,” she said. “I know it’s…weird that I’m here.”

  Will couldn’t help it—he barked a laugh.

  “And I tried to leave after I realized this was your house, but Colleen started asking questions and I didn’t know exactly how to tell her that I’m probably the last person you’d want in here.” Elizabeth pressed her lips together and crossed her arms as though closing in on herself. “There’s no good way to say ‘I banged your boss and generally made an ass out of myself’ to someone you’ve just met.”

  Will forced his feet a step closer. “You made an ass out of yourself?”

  “You should remember. You were there.”

  “Yeah, but it’s nice to hear you say it.”

  She made a face at him, but it lacked the acidity he’d grown so accustomed to over the last few months. And while her eyes were certainly guarded, there was something else there too—or there was something missing. She’d never looked at him the way she was looking at him now.

  Perhaps he was foolish to hope, to even entertain the thought, but dammit, he did.

  Will edged forward another step. The sound of a phone hanging up carried from wherever Colleen had disappeared off to, but he wasn’t ready for her to come back in and spoil this. He wanted to keep Elizabeth’s eyes on him just a moment longer.

  She swallowed again, rubbing her arms. “I… I should get going.”

  “Have you finished your tour?”

  “I don’t know.” She paused, then nodded to the room that had, in another life, functioned solely as a library. “This is as far as I got.”

  “Probably the least antebellum room in the house.”

  “I love the tree. It’s so…eclectic.”

  Will’s mouth twitched. “Yeah?”

  She nodded, her eyes catching the reflection of the Christmas tree lights. “It tells a story,” she said. “Ornaments like these.”

  He shifted closer still and peeked around the corner to see what she was seeing.
“It’s my favorite too,” he said, his voice low. “It’s the one Georgiana and I decorate ourselves. Colleen tends to all the others.”

  As though summoned, the woman appeared, looking harried and flustered. She started when she saw him, her normally pallid complexion going rosy. “Oh, Fitzwilliam. I didn’t expect you home for a few hours still.”

  “Yes, well, I found it difficult to focus and everyone was already mentally on their holiday break, so it seemed best to come home.” He nodded at her. “Everything all right?”

  “Yes,” she answered quickly. Then winced. “No. That was my son. He and his girlfriend were in a car accident. It’s nothing serious, but—”

  “Go.”

  “He assured me he was fine, but—”

  “Colleen, if you don’t leave right now I’m going to fire you.”

  From the corner of his eye, he saw Elizabeth’s lips twitch.

  “Well, if you’re sure.” Colleen looked to Elizabeth. “Apologies for cutting the tour short, but Fitzwilliam can answer any questions you may have.” She paused. “And you two know each other, right?”

  “Thank you, yes,” Elizabeth said. “You should go.”

  Colleen waffled a moment longer, then nodded and started for the door. “I’ll be back in a couple hours,” she called over her shoulder.

  “No you won’t,” Will called back, turning in time to see her pick her jacket off the coat-rack. “Not unless you want to spend Christmas job hunting.”

  Colleen just snorted. The next moment, she was gone, the resounding thud of the heavy door stamping the air like a large exclamation point.

  He looked back to Elizabeth. Thankfully, she looked about as uncomfortable as he felt. It wasn’t right that he suffer in solitude, especially since she was the one who had shown up unannounced.

  She looked even better than the image preserved in his memory.

  “I should go,” Elizabeth said, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear with visibly trembling fingers. “I’ve already intruded enough. Thank you for not freaking out.”

  Will took a step forward. “About what?”

  “Your ex hookup showing up at your house uninvited.”