A Higher Education

by Rosalie Stanton

  “Do you want me to come in with you?” Jane whispered again. “Tell me now.”

  “No. I should be fine.”

  “She doesn’t look happy.”

  No, she didn’t. Elizabeth swallowed hard and fought back a surge of rising panic.

  “Good morning,” she said as Professor Greenfield drew up beside them. “Thank you again for agreeing to meet.”

  “Yeah,” came the gruff response. “Let’s just get this thing over with.” She pulled a set of keys from her pocket, unlocked the office door, and entered without so much as a backward glance.

  Elizabeth breathed in, willing herself to relax.

  “I’ll be right outside if you need me,” Jane said. “And I’m treating you to lunch after this.”

  She forced a grin, hoping it conveyed everything she couldn’t bring herself to say at the moment, then stepped over the threshold into the lion’s den and closed the door behind her.

  When she turned, she found Professor Greenfield standing behind her desk, holding out a red-marked bundle of paper.

  “This is what you wanted to see.”

  Elizabeth swallowed and forced her feet to move forward. In the period between arriving back on campus and waiting for this meeting, she’d double-checked her term paper as it had been saved on her computer before she’d transferred it to the flashdrive. Aside from a few wonky sentences she hadn’t had time to correct, everything looked in order. She’d even tried copying and pasting a few lines into Google to see where the duplication might have occurred, but aside from a few odd near-misses in terms of wording, it had come up blank. The same thing occurred with the few free plagiarism checkers she’d found.

  Something was seriously wrong.

  “Ms. Bennet, I do not have all day and you are already on my last nerve.”

  Elizabeth gave her head a shake and stepped forward. “I’m sorry,” she said, though not knowing what, exactly, she was apologizing for. She took the paper, scanned the heading, and felt her stomach drop. “I didn’t write this.”

  “I know. That’s why you’re facing expulsion.”

  “No. I mean, this isn’t the paper I turned in.”

  Professor Greenfield arched an eyebrow. “That’s your name at the top, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, but…” She was shaking now, so hard it seemed her insides shook with her. “There has to be some mistake. My topic was about the hero archetype and how it reinforces toxic masculinity, not birth control. When I say I didn’t write it, I mean I’ve never see this before.”

  The flicker of hope she’d experienced before sparked with new life, but Elizabeth didn’t let herself chase it. Not yet.

  Professor Greenfield’s expression softened, though not by much. “Well,” she said after a moment, sinking into her seat, “I’ll admit, Ms. Bennet, I can almost always identify the students in my classes who will be problematic for one reason or another. You’re hardheaded and opinionated, but smart and well-spoken. I never thought you’d be the type to try and cheat at a grade. And so obviously, too.”

  Elizabeth lowered her gaze to the paper. “I don’t understand what happened,” she said, speaking without really meaning to. “I don’t suppose you can show me what Lydia turned in, can you?”

  Professor Greenfield narrowed her eyes. “What do you think?”

  “Hard no.” She bit her lower lip. “It’s just… I had to leave campus unexpectedly. I didn’t have time to go back and check my sources or proofread my paper. Our email was down so I took a flashdrive to Lydia so she could turn it in for me. This is not what was on that flashdrive.”

  “Are you suggesting Ms. Gardiner did something to your paper? That is a very serious accusation.”

  “No,” she said at once. “I’m not accusing anyone of anything. What I am saying is I don’t know what happened. Only that I left here having written a paper that I gave to Lydia to turn in and the next thing I know, I’m being accused of plagiarism and my future hinges upon this”—she waved the paper in question—“something I’ve never seen before, and certainly didn’t give to Lydia to turn in. I brought my laptop so you can see the last file saved. See if there was a mix-up.”

  “I’m sorry, no. I’m not stupid when it comes to computers, but I’m also not an expert, and I can’t open that door or everyone would want to get through. The issue will be determined by academics.”

  “But if I can prove I had something else saved on my hard-drive, wouldn’t you take that into consideration?”

  Professor Greenfield pressed her lips together, tilting her head. She was quiet for a moment. “Have you tried asking Ms. Gardiner what happened?” she asked rather than answering.

  Elizabeth exhaled slowly. “We can’t find her.”

  “You mean you weren’t able to get her to come in over her winter break.”

  “No, I mean we can’t find her. Her roommate says she and another student decided to go off together over Christmas. We’ve tried calling her, but she didn’t let anyone know where she was going and hasn’t answered her phone at all.”

  At this, Professor Greenfield frowned, concern leaking into her eyes. “Well, I certainly hope she’s all right.”

  “We all do,” Elizabeth agreed.

  “And as for this…” She gestured to the paper with a sigh. “Like I said, Ms. Bennet, I wouldn’t have expected this of you. But I have been in this profession long enough to have been disappointed by otherwise star students.”

  “I didn’t think you liked me.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Well…” She looked down, wrung her hands. “First day…I kinda jumped all over you for singling out Will Darcy.”

  The corners of Professor Greenfield’s mouth ticked upward. “Oh, that’s right. Well, I wasn’t exactly being coy that day, myself. No, I think you’ll come to find that as you get older, it becomes more work than it’s worth to hold a grudge. What I care about is teaching, and you were always a good student.” A pause. “I can’t make any promises, but I am willing to say as much at your hearing. And if you think it will help, certainly bring your computer so we can see the paper you intended to turn in, along with the time stamp. I don’t know if that will make a difference on the outcome, but… It might just be that you’re a horse worth betting on.”

  A thrill shot down her spine. “So…you believe me?”

  “I wouldn’t go that far, but I will admit the situation is a little more complicated, especially since you didn’t actually turn that in to me.” Professor Greenfield sighed and rose to her feet. “I’ll say I hope you’re telling the truth, if nothing else, because I did enjoy having you in class, and it would seriously bum me out if you were a plagiarist.”

  “Thank you.”

  She inclined her head. “Now, if you don’t mind…” She made her way around the desk. “I have a cranky wife to meet for brunch.”

  “Tell her I’m sorry for interrupting your time off.”

  “I will, but that won’t make much difference to her.” Professor Greenfield stopped by the door. “I’ll see you on the thirtieth, Ms. Bennet.”

  Elizabeth nodded, offered a small, grateful smile, then stepped back into the hall. She was careful not to meet Jane’s eyes as her professor followed. It wasn’t until Greenfield had disappeared around the corner and down the hall that Elizabeth felt it safe to acknowledge Jane at all.

  “Well?” Jane asked, stuffing her cell phone into her pocket. “I couldn’t help but notice there was a distinct lack of screaming. Do you have good news for me?”

  “She doesn’t believe me, but she doesn’t not believe me, either.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Best case scenario? If they decide I am a plagiarist, maybe I’m on academic probation rather than outright expelled. But that might be too optimistic.”

  Jane threw an arm around her shoulder, steering her in for a quick hug. “That’s you all over. Miss Half-Full.”

  “If you go through life expecting the worst, you�
��re never disappointed.”

  “You should write greeting cards.”

  “Would you believe they wouldn’t hire me?” Elizabeth released a long breath, tension she’d carried with her from Pemberley falling away. It would be back, she knew, but this might be the closest to in control she’d felt since Christmas morning.

  Since Will had kissed her lips, grinned at her, then kissed his way down her body and done things with his tongue that made her warm just thinking about it.

  She paused and pulled out her phone, charged with a rush of nervous energy that whispered he might have reached out to her. The answering plunge of disappointment left her feeling hollow and isolated.

  “What’s wrong?” Jane shook her shoulder.

  “Huh?”

  “You just looked so sad all of a sudden.”

  Elizabeth forced a smile and shoved her phone back into her pocket. “Nothing. It’s nothing.”

  “This wouldn’t have anything to do with why Charlie Bingley started texting me this morning, would it?”

  She paused. “What?”

  “Apparently you were supposed to tell him something over Christmas and he never heard back from you.” Jane tilted her head. “You spent Christmas with the Bingleys?”

  “Umm, hardly.” Elizabeth gave a short laugh and shuddered. “Well, I guess I kinda did, but Caroline didn’t stay long, much to the disappointment of precisely no one.”

  “What were you doing with the Bingleys?”

  “I wasn’t with the Bingleys.” She paused and rubbed her lips together, an excited but muted flutter taking residence in her belly. And even through her doubts, she didn’t think she could stifle the need to talk to someone any longer.

  Except talking about it made it real. As long as the words were in her head, they were solely hers, incapable of being twisted or misinterpreted by anyone else. Even if that someone else was Jane.

  Hell, maybe especially if that someone else was Jane. Because Jane was all rainbows and optimism, even when the world dealt her a shit hand.

  But Will was more than her dirty little secret. She wasn’t ashamed of the time she’d spent at Pemberley. The only regrets she had were that they hadn’t had more time together.

  “Elizabeth,” Jane said warningly, “you talk or I’ll call Caroline.”

  “You wouldn’t.”

  “Just try me.”

  Elizabeth rolled her head back, grinning. “On my way back from St. Augustine, my car kinda found itself in Derbyshire.”

  “Yes, I remember. What does that have to do with anything?”

  “Turns out, that’s where Pemberley is.”

  “Pemberley?”

  “Yeah…the place where Will Darcy lives.”

  Jane paused, her eyebrows winging upward. “Darcy. As in the Darcy you pretend to hate but secretly have a thing for.”

  “That’s the one.”

  “Not denying it now? Woman, talk.”

  Again, Elizabeth paused, though her heart began to race. She forced herself to meet Jane’s eyes and willed herself the courage to say the thing that needed to be said, if only once.

  “I think I’m in love with him.”

  And before she could draw breath, she burst into tears.

  41

  The night before her hearing went almost exactly as she expected—restless and, when she did manage to fall asleep, nightmare-riddled. She dreamed of a life following her expulsion, of having to live with her mother, whose life, in these dreams, was in the same state of chaos and despair as it had been following the divorce. She dreamed of crawling on her hands and knees to beg Caroline Bingley for a place to stay, of Jane shaking her head and saying she expected so much more from her. And, to be especially cruel, her mind also fed her with dreams of finally falling asleep, then snoozing through her alarm clock and missing the hearing entirely.

  Yet when she awoke the next morning, it was with a burst of manic energy, fueled with a combination of fear and cautious hope. And despite the temptation, she didn’t bother waking Jane before she left, even though her friend had promised to come with her for moral support. This was one thing she needed to do on her own.

  Elizabeth arrived at the administration office twenty minutes early with her computer bag slung over her shoulder, and didn’t know what to do with herself to occupy the time, save checking the clock on her phone every few seconds. She didn’t let herself play with her phone too long, though, for the nearer her meeting loomed, the more she wanted to text Will. Not that she knew what to say, except that she missed him. She missed him and Georgiana and Pemberley. All of that seemed like such a wonderful dream that she was having trouble believing it had actually happened. She wanted to tell him again how sorry she was that she’d been such a judgmental idiot; if she hadn’t been, they might have had more time together.

  Though she wasn’t sure if wishing for more time was wise; they’d only had three honest days together and they had profoundly reshaped her in ways she’d never thought possible. If they’d had more days, if they had found their footwork as a couple, then the prospect of being expelled would have been elevated to a new level of hell.

  If nothing else, this thing with Will had reinvigorated her belief in love. Because if he could still love her after she’d done everything in her power to push him away, they could weather any storm.

  With time, at least. And that was something they might not have.

  Plus she didn’t know if Will was actually still in love with her. And right now, with so much still uncertain, she wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

  Elizabeth sighed and checked the time again. Only a few minutes had passed. She gave the building another look. It wouldn’t hurt her chances any to be ridiculously early—she’d never heard of a student being penalized for that, and maybe it would show the administration just how serious she was about her education. She straightened her shoulders and made her way to the entrance.

  It didn’t take long to find the route to the room the email had listed. As her feet took her down the hall, her heart thundered loud enough to be heard three counties over. She pressed her lips together and eyed her destination. The door was open and the light was on, which was either very bad or very good. Her skin began to tingle, sweat gathering at the nape of her neck. Closer now, she could make out voices, low and conspiratorial. One belonged to Professor Greenfield, she was certain of it.

  The other…

  Elizabeth stopped in the doorway and blinked dumbly.

  “Lydia?”

  Greenfield and Lydia turned on the same beat, neither looking particularly happy, though the professor spared her a soft, tired smile. The room surrounding them wasn’t an office, rather a waiting room, complete with its own currently vacant desk and a bank of chairs around a magazine-covered coffee table. The left wall was plastered with awards Meryton had been honored with over the years, while the right featured a board filled with marketing material. A memory sparked, one that felt decades old, but Elizabeth realized belatedly that this was where she’d enrolled. And then she felt stupid, because obviously this was where she’d enrolled and a smarter, less frazzled Elizabeth would have recognized it immediately.

  If she didn’t get expelled today, she was going to sleep until the new term began.

  “Lydia,” she said again, shaking her head to clear it. “What are you doing here? And when did you get back? We’ve been trying to reach you.”

  Lydia flashed a pained grin. “I didn’t mean to worry anyone.”

  Well, that told her precisely nothing. “But what are you doing here?”

  Before Lydia could respond, the door at the other end of the room opened, and a young, fresh-faced guy nodded at Professor Greenfield. “She’s ready for you.”

  “Good,” she replied, then turned to Elizabeth. “If you would follow us, please.”

  What the hell is going on here?

  Lydia’s presence had, if nothing else, distracted her from her fears about expulsion. By the time Elizabeth
crossed the threshold into the dean’s office, the nerves she’d entertained since Pemberley had taken a full backseat to curiosity. She didn’t even flinch when she met the dean’s stoic gaze, though that might have been because the dean saved her dirtiest look for Lydia.

  “Elizabeth,” Professor Greenfield said, “this is Dean Winifred Carrington. I’m not sure if you’ve met.”

  They hadn’t, but that hardly seemed important at the moment.

  Dean Carrington was a severe looking woman. She wore square-rimmed glasses and had her hair pulled into a tight bun, which gave her the appearance of a Professor McGonagall cosplayer. The thought nearly made Elizabeth smirk but she refrained. Now was definitely not the time to get a case of the giggles.

  As it was, Dean Carrington didn’t seem too interested in Elizabeth. After greeting her with a dismissive nod, she turned her attention to Lydia, and pointed at the document laying face-up on her desk. “Do you stand by this account?”

  “I do.”

  “You understand the seriousness of what you did here.”

  A pause. “I do. But I didn’t think—”

  “It’s quite clear you didn’t think.”

  Elizabeth shot a look to Greenfield, but the professor’s focus was set dead ahead.

  Dean Carrington glared at Lydia a moment longer before releasing a long sigh and finally shifting her attention to Elizabeth. “Ms. Bennet. I trust you had an eventful break.”

  She knew it was unwise, but she couldn’t stop herself. “What’s going on?”

  “I would have Ms. Gardiner explain it. I believe she owes you that much.”

  Elizabeth blinked and turned to Lydia, whose face was pointed at the floor, tears tracking down her cheeks. But she didn’t say anything, and the air in the room grew heavy again.

  The dean gave a sigh. “Ms. Gardiner, you have already tested my patience enough for one day.”