Lucky 13

by Cat Gardiner

“Don’t fidget, Honeybee, you look beautiful as always.”

  “Thank you. It’s a big night for the Foundation, and we have already missed the cocktail hour. I’m just a little nervous that’s all.”

  He leaned in toward her ear. “They won’t even notice that we’re late. Stick with me, babe. I know how to work a crowd and make an entrance, especially in this society. My Pulitzer goes a long way.

  She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “Funny, I was going to say for you to stick by me since this is my society, many of whom are clients of BADCo.” An innocent smile spread across her lips, her intonation escaping his observation. Apparently, John’s acumen for capturing the normally unseen was restricted to viewing the world through a lens.

  Marble, elegance, and opulence surrounded the couple as they stepped into the hotel. It had been years since Elizabeth visited the Plaza and never once at Christmas. Red poinsettias accented the ornate gold moldings and mirrored pillars. Rotating in the center of the vast lobby, towered the hotel’s newest themed Christmas tree: The Gatsby tree. Decorated in honor of the recently released film version, it dazzled onlookers in sparkling silver and white. Ahead, against tall Palladian windows in the Palm Court Restaurant stood another themed tree: the Eloise Christmas tree named for the famed children’s book character that lived at the hotel. The vibrant pink of the tree contrasted with the green glass atrium dome above. Everywhere she looked, holiday fantasy entwined with resplendent grandeur and sophistication.

  Dressed as never before, Elizabeth felt as elegant as the diamond and emerald, three-strand bracelet watch on her left wrist. Her gown, a J. Mendel, hung in soft drapes against her figure, provocatively exposing her right leg through a sheer paneled deep slit. The moment she saw the gown hanging in Jane’s closet, she fell in love with the chiffon layered bodice, and the beaded halter neckline. She wore her hair cascading in shiny, bouncing waves of raven glory. Her makeup was perfect from carefully drawn eyeliner to the smoothly applied wine-red lipstick.

  She and John walked side by side as they made their way toward the ballroom through the throngs of people grouped together to attend various events.

  Along the wall, covered in classic ivory damask, rested a banquet table where only a few seating place cards remained to be claimed. She found her name and couldn’t help but to chuckle at the irony.

  “What’s so funny?” John asked.

  “Nothing in particular, just nerves.” She looked again at the place card. Table Number Thirteen.

  Judging from the muffled but discernible sound coming from inside the banquet room, someone was giving a speech, signaling that the dinner had begun. Elizabeth took a deep breath, bolstering herself for what, or rather who, lay behind the door.

  They attempted to enter the ballroom inconspicuously but several guests at the rear tables turned to view these latecomers as they stood still scanning the placard numbers beneath the white, floral centerpieces on each table.

  She barely had time to appreciate the splendor and opulence around her, locating their table in the center of the ballroom. Multi-tiered, crystal chandeliers hanging from the ornate vaulted ceiling, arched alcoves, elaborate moldings, and gilded wall sconces were all dismissed the moment she noticed Darcy sitting at Table Number One. His broad shoulders and the curl at his nape drew her immediate attention and held her sole focus.

  At his table sat Rick and Charlotte who was occupied taking unofficial photographs. Beside her sat Georgiana, Catherine de Bourgh and a brunette, who Elizabeth assumed was her daughter, Anne. An unknown, attractive woman wearing a one-shoulder, red gown sat to Darcy’s immediate left. His arm rested along the back of her chair as they listened attentively to the speaker at the podium on stage. Elizabeth couldn’t help notice how Darcy’s thumb brushed up and down upon the woman’s bare shoulder blade just below her blonde hair.

  She sighed, already feeling defeated. Another blonde.

  A wistful reflection passed before her eyes in a rushing moment. That same hand caressing her breast, his beautiful smile when first joining with her, the loving words he spoke in her ear when he climaxed. She had heaven for a blessed four hours in his arms, and due to her stupidity, she had come crashing back to earth – hard and hurting – in a heap of worthless crap.

  With a quiet slip into her seat beside some familiar acquaintances, among them, thankfully Stan and Patricia Reynolds, she tried her hardest to discipline her attention away from Darcy. Seeing that subtle gesture of affection of finger against skin toward the unknown woman had already enkindled her heightened emotions.

  She focused her attention on listening to the speaker’s enthusiastic descriptions of the 2013 accomplishments of the FD Burn Foundation. As he spoke, huge photos from the PowerPoint presentation illustrated each event. The Children’s Burn Camp came on screen then the Burn Unit at Presbyterian Hospital, followed by the survivor summer picnic at Central Park. Diverting her attention from Darcy was fruitless. There he was, larger than life, in every image that flashed on the screen. Dressed in an FDNY navy t-shirt and blue jeans, he stood beside a teenager, helping the adolescent hold a baseball bat. Two of the boy’s fingers were missing, having been lost from playing with fireworks.

  John leaned over to Elizabeth, visibly gloating and whispered. “There’s the do-gooder, Lizzy. I guess I won the prize in the end though, huh? Once my Honeybee, always my Honeybee.”

  She grit her teeth. “Prize?”

  He smirked and whispered back, “You. You’re on my arm tonight, not his. As usual, I’m the better man. I told you, he’d never get anywhere near your beautiful body.”

  Incensed now, her full regret of his presence tonight finally surfacing, she whispering back, “Just so you know … he did win the prize. Repeatedly ... and I thoroughly enjoyed it … repeatedly. Not only did he make claim to my body, but also to my heart and soul.”

  She chose not to look at him so sure that his stunned expression from her obvious affront to his ego would set her to laughing in his face.

  John suppressed a grimace. His Honeybee had grown up – and moved on entirely – away from his youthful allurements and into this other guy’s arms.

  That announcement felt incredibly liberating to her. Elizabeth had vanquished any allurement or sense of attachment remaining toward her ex-boyfriend, and she freely admitted that Darcy had seen to that. He had lifted her up emotionally and intellectually, making her feel important and special. He appreciated her career and talents, had encouraged her and listened with honest interest. That incredible man understood her acutely and accepted her even with all her little quirks and idiosyncrasies.

  She kept her attention riveted to the speaker on stage – and the photo overhead.

  “So, it is a great honor that the American Burn Association grants this year’s Valor Award to a man who has dedicated his adult life to the restoration of lives affected by burns. His tireless compassion and generosity has afforded the FD Burn Foundation to provide the assistance and medical care necessary to maintain New York City’s two burn units and Skin Bank. This year’s award goes to a man whose personal financial contributions have covered the medical expenses of forty-two uninsured victims of tragic burns. Not only has he committed his life to education and restoration, but also he serves the residents of the Upper West Side by risking his own life as a New York City firefighter, and donating his salary directly to the Burn Camp for children. He is none other than the founder of FDBF himself, Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy.”

  Elizabeth’s mouth went slack. Her mind screamed, Founder?! F.D Burn Foundation. Fitzwilliam Darcy. Founder – F.D. – Fitzwilliam Darcy … Burn Foundation. O.M.G. He was the one who called Stan touting her professionalism, and it was he who generously paid Charlotte for her work on the campaign. Oh. My. God. How did I miss that? Why did I miss that? Because you were too busy finding fault with him!

  “Looks like your lover kept a few things from you.” John whispered into her ear, hoping to disenchant her as Darcy took to the podium.
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  “Sort of like the secrets you kept from me, John?”

  “Huh?”

  “Jane and your little tête-à-tête in Milan?”

  “You know about that?”

  “Yes, I know about that. It only confirmed what I knew at nineteen. You are a snake, a manipulator and an opportunist.”

  She disregarded him and the shocked look upon his face when she saw Charlotte turn abruptly toward her from across the room. She wore her fire engine red hair in a fashionable pixie and looked dynamite in a black, boat-necked gown. Charlotte covertly pointed to Darcy and mouthed, “Did you know?”

  Elizabeth shook her head then pointed to the blonde. “Who’s that?”

  Charlotte turned away and didn’t answer.

  On the screen above the podium, a family portrait was displayed for the audience. Elizabeth recognized the photograph of a young Darcy, Georgiana and Rick from the penthouse apartment mantle. Behind them stood a handsome couple she assumed were his parents.

  Darcy took the plaque from the speaker, shook hands with him and adjusted the microphone. His smile dazzled her and just before the applause died, as he softly cleared his throat about to begin his speech, he found her sitting in the center of the audience.

  Her gaze met his across the crowded room and she smiled warmly up at him. He looked, oh so, delicious in his custom Armani formalwear. Her heart pounded almost in unison to the applause and she held her breath, hoping he would smile back.

  He looked away in the direction of Table Number One.

  Seeing Elizabeth, looking gorgeous in emerald, sitting there with Lucas’s arm wrapped around the back of her chair was more than he could bear, especially at this moment.

  He had to look away, look at something meaningless and cold, or rather someone - Sarah Pendleton. As eager as she was to rekindle their youthful romance, he just couldn’t be attracted to her. She lacked every bit of warmth or sincerity. It was apparent in her smile alone. That Pan Am grin filled with phoniness and self-importance only made him yearn for Elizabeth more. Her smile filled every room she entered with brilliance and there she sat, right in the center of this opulent assemblage, as though on demand, smiling beautifully from the distant audience.

  He was heartbroken. To see her sitting there looking ravishing as that creep’s date was devastating. Darcy fought back the ensuing pain, forging ahead with his speech. She made her choice, telling him plainly and truthfully that she didn’t love him. He had to move on – if only he could.

  “Thank you. Thank you so much. I’m truly, truly touched by this overwhelming honor. It’s wonderful to see you all here this evening to celebrate the achievements of the Foundation. Eight years ago, I was a scared, young man standing in the street before my family’s burned out brownstone in Lenox Hill. It was where both of my parents tragically lost their lives due to faulty, antiquated electrical wiring dating back to the building’s conversion from gas around 1915.

  “If you had asked me then how I could have made a difference in their lives and the lives of others, I would have said, ‘I should have prevented their death in the first place’, but I was young, naïve and uneducated in the simple facts of fire prevention – as are most people. Today, I humbly stand before you and I hear that same question in my mind and not so naively hope that, through this Foundation, established in honor of my parents, we may well have prevented many tragedies through education, safety and precaution, thereby making a profound difference. Your generous donations combined with the commitment of our dedicated volunteers and Board of Trustees throughout the years have helped us to achieve that. Together we have made a difference in the lives of others.

  “What we have accomplished as a Foundation is unprecedented in regard to medical care and assistance. We have filled in the gaps where insurances have failed to pick up the costs, as well as providing the necessary funds for the uninsured, the indigent, and those who simply do not have the wherewithal to bear the burden of the skyrocketing costs of medical care, skin grafts, prosthetics and rehabilitation. The Foundation and your donations have been there time and again.

  “This year’s fundraising campaign, handled exclusively by Big Apple Design Company, will not only engage the residents of New York City, but also those throughout the nation. Locally, we are planning a year of events that will bring awareness not only to prevention but also to New York’s Bravest who enter the fight to save lives, directly putting themselves in jeopardy. Under the direct management of Big Apple, thirteen men from various fire stations throughout the city have posed for a calendar, which has already proven to be a wildly successful fundraiser. Tomorrow will be our official kick-off at Barnes & Noble on Fifth Avenue for the calendar signing.”

  A male voice in the attentive audience heckled him, “Take it off, Darcy!” causing everyone to laugh.

  Elizabeth looked over at the two tables on the other side of the room where the most laughter came from. They were the calendar men and their guests. She beamed having been unaware that they would be in attendance, delighted that Darcy had included his fire department brothers in this auspicious evening.

  Darcy laughed and joked, “That’s Mr. April.” His eyes gravitated back to Elizabeth, locking with hers when he added, “… and I’m Mr. December.”

  Again, the crowd laughed and began to applaud New York City’s sexiest and bravest men as Darcy motioned for them to stand.

  When the applause died down, he closed his speech. “Thank you for this cherished award, and thank you for coming tonight to support the Foundation. It is fortuitous that tonight, two days after the eight-year anniversary of the tragic night that took George and Anne Darcy from their children Georgiana, Rick and me, that we should honor them with the Valor Award. Thank you, again and have a happy, safe and healthy holiday.”

  Elizabeth hung her head in shame, realizing how she hurt him further on the anniversary of his parent’s death.

  The guests stood one after the other in applause and appreciation and within seconds, the orchestra began to play, ushering in the dancing.

  “Will darling, shall we dance?” Sarah asked.

  Rick raised his eyebrows. Damn if he didn’t hate that woman.

  “Yes, of course.” Darcy extended his hand and he and Sarah took to the dance floor.

  “I’m so delighted that you called. It’s been too long since last I enjoyed those beautiful dimples of yours. Do you remember when that was?” She asked in her mock English, aristocratic tone.

  “I do. It was the day before my parents were killed.”

  “Is that why you stopped calling?”

  “No. It wasn’t. It was time to move on, grow up, experience life without having to meet and fulfill the expectations of society or our parents that we would eventually marry.”

  She ran her French manicured index finger down his smooth cheek, a gesture that Elizabeth noted, feeling sure that Darcy had already moved on.

  Sarah flirted, “And now, is that why you called? Do you think we might renew our friendship or at the least resume some aspect of it?”

  Over her shoulder, Darcy watched as John and Elizabeth danced, noting how the pig possessively tightened his hold around her slender waist.

  “Sometimes, Sarah, some people need to go back to go forward. There is no point to our going back to the past. There was never a relationship to begin with and certainly not one that caused any wounds or left any scars that need to heal by revisiting us. Let’s just enjoy this evening.”

  “There are always society events and opportunities to be seen together. You know how beautiful we look together, and let’s not forget the occasional hook-up. Don’t you remember how good we were in the bedroom?”

  Darcy smiled. “I remember being an immature young man who didn’t always make the best decisions. Let’s just say, I’ve come to learn that sex should be reserved for someone I love. My hook-up days have ended.”

  Subconsciously, he had drifted into Elizabeth and John’s general direction and before he
knew what he was about, he tapped her dance partner on the shoulder.

  John’s first reaction was defensive, then self-servingly compliant. Considering the high-society, buxom blonde wearing the Valentino and the fact that Elizabeth had stated that the firefighter won the competition, he instantly recognized that the night might not be a total bust after all.

  With trepidation, Darcy took Elizabeth into his arms in a respectful dance hold. Her body felt tense, but he didn’t think it was fear. He hadn’t read her blog and having promised himself not to, had no idea what she was thinking or feeling beyond their argument two nights prior.

  He wanted to hold her close, apologize again, and kiss those beautiful crimson lips of hers to keep her from yelling at him or accusing him of something. Or worse, to profess, yet again, that she didn’t love him - a blow he was still reeling from. Lord, how he adored looking into those sparkling eyes of hers, reflecting the light from the shimmering, crystal chandeliers overhead. The earrings he had purchased for her, still sitting on top his dresser, flashed into his mind.

  Darcy stammered. “You ... you look stunning.”

  “Thank you. You look handsome in your tuxedo.”

  “It came in handy. I bought it for Charlie’s wedding.”

  “Oh… It’s been called off, you know.”

  “I do. I’m truly sorry to hear that. It’s most likely cold feet on Charlie’s part. You know, he was a resolute a bachelor but then fell in love at first sight with your sister. I’m sure he’ll come around. After all, he’s a man violently in love.”

  “Love.” She wryly chuckled. “Jane loves him deeply. I hope they can work it out, put aside whatever misunderstandings played a part in their quarrel.”

  He wondered if she spoke of Charlie and Jane or of them. No doubt, it was the former because she had told him otherwise – there was no love for him in her heart.

  It was awkward as they made their way around the dance floor, tension tangible between them. In spite of Elizabeth’s reticence and nerves, they moved seamlessly, outwardly appearing comfortable in one another’s arms. They looked spectacular as a couple and the event photographer captured them more than once.