Love, Lies and Lizzie

by Rosie Rushton

  ‘The seaside?’

  ‘Jane said you love the sea.’

  ‘You and Jane have talked a lot,’ she laughed. ‘And yes, please, I’d love to.’

  ‘Be ready in half an hour,’ he ordered, and for once, Lizzie didn’t mind being bossed about one little bit.

  Throughout the two-hour drive to Norfolk, Lizzie struggled to calm herself. This was ridiculous; the one thing she had never been in her entire life was at a loss for words, and she had always thought small talk was a sign of a narrow life and even narrower mind. Yet here she was commenting on the weather, or a passing road sign, or the music on the in-car stereo. She had to come clean about Lydia’s confession, but this wasn’t the time. She’d wait till they got there.

  ‘Your aunt said you wanted to do charity work,’ she burst out, with a sudden flash of inspiration.

  ‘Really? I thought she was in total denial over the whole thing,’ he replied wryly.

  ‘I didn’t say she was enthusiastic about it,’ Lizzie said laughing. ‘But go on, tell me about it.’

  ‘I’m doing International Human Rights Law for one reason and one reason only,’ he replied firmly. ‘To help in some small way all those people whose rights are ignored simply because they don’t possess the words, or the know-how, to fight for themselves.’

  ‘But surely, that’s not charity work,’ Lizzie reasoned. ‘There must be loads of money in that.’

  ‘Get real,’ he argued. ‘If you were living in a shack in Calcutta, working sixteen hours a day sewing zips on skirts for some toffee-nosed designer in the West, and then someone came and bulldozed your hut because they wanted the land for a call centre, would you know what to do? Or even if you did, would you have the money to pay a lawyer?’

  ‘So, you’d do it all for free?’

  ‘Not exactly,’ James admitted. ‘Otherwise I’d become a charity case too. No, I want to work for a charity that helps people in those situations and then one day, set up one of my own. I’ve even got a name for it.’

  He blushed and looked at Lizzie out of the corner of his eye.

  ‘Tell me,’ she encouraged.

  ‘Law for Life.’

  ‘I think that’s the most fantastic thing I’ve ever heard,’ she said. ‘I never realised you were like that. I love . . .’

  Oh my God, she thought. Oh my God. I nearly said . . .

  ‘I love the idea,’ she finished lamely.

  As soon as they had parked the car at Holkham beach and were walking along the duckboards through the pine trees to the huge expanse of sand, she stopped and turned to James.

  ‘I can’t go on until I’ve said what’s on my mind,’ she began. ‘I just want to thank you – really thank you – for what you did for Lydia. Coming back from France like that and fixing it so that George got caught out —’

  ‘How did you know about that? I made Lydia promise . . .’

  ‘She didn’t mean to let it slip,’ Lizzie assured him. ‘She was in an awful state – it’s been a shock and something of a rapid growing-up for her, you know.’

  ‘And I shouldn’t have asked her to keep secrets from her family, I guess,’ he said. ‘But you know, I didn’t do it for her. I did it for you.’

  He began walking and she had no choice but to fall in step beside him.

  ‘I know what you said to me when I told you weeks ago that I thought I was falling in love with you, and I know I deserved every syllable,’ he said. ‘And if you still feel like that about me – well, we’ll just call today a one off and . . .’

  ‘Please don’t remind me about how awful I was,’ Lizzie pleaded. ‘I accused you of being up yourself when all the time, I was the one who was jumping to conclusions about you. I’m so sorry – I cringe inside every time I think about what I said.’

  ‘What about the way I behaved to you? God, how could I have been such a total arsehole? All that pent-up anger I had over what George did, and all the worry about Jenna because she was still seeing the psychiatrist guy at that time . . .’

  ‘I wish I’d known, I wish I’d understood,’ Lizzie sighed.

  ‘I didn’t give you the chance,’ James replied. ‘All this stupid pride of mine – not letting anyone know that the Darcys weren’t one hundred per cent perfect. What’s wrong with us all? The Bingleys hiding Geoffrey’s breakdown, me keeping quiet about Jenna – Lizzie, I’m so sorry.’

  He stopped and took her hand.

  ‘So – what do you think about me now?’

  ‘I think what you did for Lydia was just wonderful and . . .’

  He dropped her hand. ‘You see? That’s why I didn’t want you to know I was involved. Now I’ll never know whether you’re being nice because of that, or because – because . . .’

  He faltered. ‘Lizzie, is there any possibility you could begin to like me just a little bit? Not for what I did, but for me.’

  ‘Well . . .’

  ‘OK, forget it. I shouldn’t have asked.’

  ‘Will you please let me finish? I was going to say that I think there’s a pretty good chance I could.’

  His face broke into a smile. ‘And even more than just like me?’

  He cupped her face in his hands. She decided there was no more point in words.

  She had never realised that a kiss could last that long.

  ‘Lizzie, are you crazy?’ Jane gasped three weeks later, on one of her weekends home from uni. ‘I’ve only just got used to the fact that you’re in love with James. And now you spring this on me. Are you sure? Really, really sure?’

  Lizzie nodded, her mind darting back to the previous weekend. James had taken her to a concert at Jenna’s school to hear his sister play the harp and sing. Afterwards, they’d gone for a long walk and even now, smiling at the bemused look on Jane’s face, Lizzie could remember every word of their conversation.

  ‘Did I tell you that Emily phoned from Boston?’ Lizzie had asked him. ‘She’s engaged to Drew. Can you imagine? Not even nineteen and hooked up with a loser like that?’

  She had waited for some cutting remark from James, but instead he had taken her hand. ‘So – you wouldn’t want to spend your time in the company of the same guy, day in, day out?’ he had asked, fixing her with his piercing grey eyes.

  Suddenly, she had felt as though every fibre of her body had tensed. ‘It would depend who the guy was,’ she had murmured.

  ‘What if it was me? Don’t answer. Listen. I’ve decided to go to India for a couple of months – it’ll help my research for the thesis.’

  Lizzie had swallowed hard.

  ‘And I wondered – well, you are on a gap year and I know there won’t be any music therapy places, but there are kids out there in some of the sweat shops who go to these schools in the evening and I thought you might like – I mean, on your CV it might look good and . . .’

  ‘It would be wonderful,’ Lizzie had breathed. ‘But it would cost an arm and a leg and I know Mum’s come into money and all that, but what she does for me, she has to do for all the others and . . .’

  ‘You know, I love the way you’re all such a . . .’ For a moment he had hesitated. ‘Such a close family. But it won’t cost that much. We can get a cheap flight and stay in . . .’

  ‘I know. De Burgh Hotels?’

  ‘Get real, Lizzie,’ he had retorted. ‘Am I honestly likely to swan around in some five-star hotel while the people I’m writing about scratch a living in the slums?’

  He had shaken his head vigorously as if to dismiss such a ridiculous suggestion. ‘There are hostels, and places you can stay very cheaply. But it’ll be really basic, and I guess not your scene and —’

  ‘Hang on, James Fitzwilliam Darcy! Am I hearing you right?’ Lizzie had teased. ‘If it’s good enough for the grandson of – who was it? Some equerry to the Queen? Well, it’s good enough for me!’

  ‘You mean . . .?’

  ‘I’d love it,’ she had said. ‘Yes, please. I’ll come. The money from the tuition I’ve been doing on S
aturdays at the music school will help.’

  ‘I never thought you would say yes,’ James had gasped. ‘I thought . . . well, it doesn’t matter. You do know that I love you more than I ever thought it was possible to love anyone, don’t you?’

  Slowly Lizzie had nodded. ‘And I love you too,’ she had whispered. ‘So much that it hurts.’

  ‘In which case,’ James had smiled, ‘you must show me everywhere it hurts, and I’ll kiss it better.’

  ‘LIZZIE!’ Jane’s voice burst in on Lizzie’s thoughts. ‘You’re smiling like the cat who got the cream. You really are crazy about this guy, aren’t you?’

  ‘Crazy? No, not really. I think I’m more sane than I’ve ever been.’

  CHAPTER 15

  ‘Think only of the past as its remembrance

  gives you pleasure.’

  (Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice)

  TWO MONTHS LATER

  ‘JUST THINK, THEY’RE ALL COMING HERE,’ LIZZIE’S MOTHER said for the fifth time on Christmas Eve. ‘I told you we’d get in with the important people of the village and this – well, it’s just the icing on the cake!’

  ‘Mum, it’s mulled wine and mince pies for the carol singers,’ Lizzie reasoned. ‘Not a black tie ball.’

  ‘You’d think the entire Royal Family were about to put in an appearance,’ Lizzie’s father muttered, unloading punch bowls from the hire company’s boxes and lining them up on the dining-room table. ‘Although I doubt there would be as much fuss if they were.’

  ‘But the Bingleys and the Bradbury-Wellses are coming, not to mention that new family at The Grange – and of course, what with my success over the mast . . .’

  Lizzie and Jane exchanged amused glances. Once their mother had had a taste of publicity after her vociferous protest at the council planning meeting, there had been no stopping her. When the crane arrived to erect the mast on the church tower, their way was blocked by dozens of parked cars, all of which carried an outsize poster designed by Alice. Radio Meryton had picked up on the blockade, and Alice, in the absence of Vanessa who had been cruising in the Med, had been interviewed on Drive at Five. Meredith had written a column entitled Graduation, not Radiation about the effects of radiation on the developing brains of the young and the only downside of the whole thing was a headline in the Meryton Chronicle which read Mother of Teenage Runaway in Mast Protest.

  ‘I’m so excited!’ Alice said, folding paper napkins into star shapes. ‘Just think, six months ago, we were newcomers and now there’s Jane going out – well, practically engaged, really – with a Bingley and —’

  ‘Mum, don’t you dare talk like that!’ Jane exploded. ‘We’re not – and even if we were, which we’re not —’

  ‘Hang on,’ Meredith interrupted, peering at the bottles of red wine stacked on the dresser. ‘This wine isn’t organic. It’ll probably rot your guts.’

  ‘Meredith,’ Mr Bennet replied. ‘It’s Fairtrade, which is what you demanded. It was cheap, which was what I wanted. And it’s going to be mulled, which is what your mother decided. Subject closed.’

  ‘And then Lizzie spending New Year in a Scottish castle . . .’ Alice continued, as if there had been no break in the conversation at all.

  ‘Mum, it’s not a castle,’ Lizzie sighed. ‘It’s just James’s grandparents’ home.’

  ‘Well, I’ve seen the photograph and it’s got turrets and everything.’ Alice sniffed. ‘It’s almost a castle and anyway —’

  She was interrupted by the sound of the front door slamming shut, some high-pitched giggles and the dining-room door bursting open. Lydia and Katie flew in, Lydia sporting huge Santa Claus flashing earrings and a pair of reindeer antlers, and Katie wearing a pixie hat complete with bell and furry boots that played a tinny version of ‘We Wish you a Merry Christmas’.

  ‘Hi, Mum, listen, we’re off out, OK?’

  ‘You only just got back,’ her mother said.

  ‘Yeah, yeah, we came back to tell you we’re going out,’ Katie said slowly as if speaking to an intellectually challenged five-year-old. ‘Ben’s taking me skating, and I said Lydia could come along with Rufus. Cool, eh?’

  ‘Rufus?’ Lizzie queried, still trying to get used to the new decisive Katie. ‘Not that little guy with the sticky-out ears who came round last week.’

  ‘That is, like, so shallow of you,’ Lydia sighed. ‘He’s just so cute and sweet. He’s in my class and he only got here from New Zealand last week, and I’ve taken him under my wing.’

  ‘Good God,’ sighed her father. ‘Should we inform Immigration?’

  ‘Come on, got to go,’ Katie ordered. ‘See you at the carols – bye!’

  And with that they shot off, giggling all the way down the hall.

  ‘They are,’ said Mr Bennet, ‘without doubt, two of the stupidest girls in England.’

  ‘Not as stupid as Lizzie,’ Mrs Bennet retorted. ‘India, indeed. Of all the places a young man with James’s money could have taken you . . .’

  ‘Mum!’ Lizzie said. ‘We’ve been through all this before. And it has nothing to do with money.’

  Alice sighed. ‘I know,’ she said. ‘It’s just that – well, I want what’s best for you, of course, but . . . well, I love you so much and I’ll miss you.’

  Lizzie gave her a hug. ‘I’ll miss you too, Mum,’ she replied. ‘But just think – no one else in the village has a daughter working on the subcontinent.’

  ‘The subcontinent,’ Mrs Bennet mused. ‘That does sound impressive, doesn’t it? Just wait till I tell that Bradbury-Wells woman.’

  She glanced round the room, beaming from ear to ear and turned to her husband.

  ‘You know, God has been very good to us, Harry,’ she sighed.

  ‘That, my love,’ he replied, ‘is one of the sanest things you’ve said in weeks.’