by Ari Rhoge
“That's a lie.” Jane couldn't stifle her own snort.
“Well, they found syringes.”
“Fine —— no swimming in the creek. Just come with us,” her sister coaxed. She leaned forward, and gave Lizzy half of the orange. “Get to know Brian a little more.”
Maybe you should get to know Brian a little more. Lizzy silenced her own thoughts. Jane was finally dating again. This was a good thing — anything to get over Charlie, really. Progress was progress. But that weekend wouldn't work out.
“I can't this weekend,” said Lizzy, simply. She divided the orange into quarters, and popped a piece into her mouth. Jane waited for an explanation, her lips pursed primly. This was how it was between them lately — this thin, building layer of unaddressed tension.
“Got some hot date?” joked Jane, trying to poke holes in it. She wasn't smiling.
Elizabeth laughed, simply because she had to. “No. I'm just… meeting with friends. Dinner-party thing.”
“Maggie?” Jane guessed.
“Yeah.”
Now she felt awful. Particular lies felt awful. She felt desperate to go home and shower, but that could have been due to the filth and grime she had accumulated within the last three-and-a-half hours.
For a split second, she considered telling Jane about Will Darcy, about everything that had happened since Rosings. Her mouth opened, and she tilted her face upward, her stomach twisting with nervous energy. Jane was staring out in front of her, looking and not looking, lost in thought. Sometimes Lizzy forgot just how pretty she was, with her cute, upturned nose, and her high cheekbones.
But then Jane sighed, and slipped her water bottle back, shaking it into her bag. “So.” She slapped Lizzy's arm softly, forcing a grin. “Another 15 minutes and we'll turn back — I promise!”
Lizzy rested her chin in the heel of her hand, and nodded supportively. She let herself smile. “You got it.”
20
—
Pemberley
Will Darcy thought it was too nice out for him to be so depressed — it was deceptively beautiful, the perfect May afternoon sky streaked with pinks and violets, the sun ablaze. He had watched many, many sunsets out on this porch since his childhood. The only thing missing from the wide, manicured green front lawn was a sycamore tree. But that hadn't been there for a while now — a thunderstorm had snapped it open 15 years ago.
He remembered watching it as a boy, mouth wide open, before his mother had tugged him away. But, for a few minutes, he, mesmerized, had watched flames devour the splintered branches. The wonders of nature. Will could recall his dad's voice perfectly.
Someone rapped on the doorframe, and Will glanced over his shoulder.
Nan Reynolds poked her head out beyond the screen door. Her apron was still on. “Kiddo, what are you doing out here all by yourself?”
“Thinking,” he responded, stupidly. Darcy looked out beyond the porch again, his fingers tightening over the iron-wrought rail. She's not going to come.
Nan joined him, sighing. She had terrible posture, and her shoulders sagged — she seemed shorter than usual standing next to him. Then again, she had been cooking all afternoon. Will nudged her. “We're working you too hard.”
“You little bastards,” Nan said, grunting — but her brown eyes twinkled. “Georgie's been helping me cook — don't worry yourself. Charlie has, too! He cooks. You never mentioned that.”
“That's because he doesn't cook,” said Will, dryly. “You're gonna have to point out to me what he's touched.”
Nan chuckled. Will smiled back, and she cupped his chin. “I'm so happy you kids are home — keep an old woman company.” Her voice quavered a bit, but he knew she wouldn't cry in front of him. He was about to respond when Nan sniffed loudly and took a step back. She smoothed her apron, tying its strings behind her waist again. “By the way, you have a guest in the drawing room.” She looked up, and smiled wryly. “A pretty one.”
Darcy's mouth opened, though no sound came out. Nan grinned, and propped the door open for him.
Elizabeth was standing in the drawing room, a pair of aviator sunglasses propped over her curly dark hair. She did look pretty. She wore a purple sun-dress, with coral flowers and deep green vines — a denim jacket too, and black lace-ups. She was staring at the portraits on the mantelpiece, and her thumb brushed against the edge of an ornate frame. Lizzy quickly pulled her hand away, as if she were afraid of breaking something.
“Lizzy?”
The girl turned her head, and her green eyes widened in surprise before she smiled slowly at him. “Hey! I was just—” Her hand flopped uselessly back toward the photographs. “—watching your climb into adulthood. You scowled when you were a little boy, too.”
Will shrugged. He shouldered one of her bags, a worn canvas rucksack. Lizzy held on to her purse. “Did you have any trouble finding the place?” he asked her.
“Nope,” said Lizzy. “GPS is kind of a godsend these days. —— Plus, everybody in town knows who you are. I just had to say the word Pemberley down the street at the gas station.” Her mouth stretched into a wide smile. “Everybody knows this estate — I've heard everything now.”
“Nothing bad, I hope,” joked Will.
“Just that the house was built in 1892, has been through about 13 upscale renovations — and apparently some guy got shot on the back lawn during a property dispute?” Lizzy started to walk with him as he led her out toward the staircase. “That true?”
Will turned. He was standing on the first step, with Lizzy looking up at him from the landing. The entire foyer was lit with fading sunlight, and it picked out the auburn hues in her hair. For a second, he forgot that she had asked him a question, until she prompted him again. “Yes, yes — but no to the man who was shot. —— We had Daniel Saxbury go streaking in our driveway once — he got arrested — it was the town highlight for about a week,” Darcy explained, with a grin.
Lizzy was laughing. “No.”
“Yes!” Darcy insisted. “——Have you met Nan?”
“Yeah — she called me a goose.”
“She likes you.”
“Oh.” Lizzy scrunched her brow, clearly still puzzled. “Is she your housekeeper?”
“Kind of,” Will said, shrugging. He turned back toward the stairs, taking two at a time, Elizabeth trying to keep up. “Nan helped raise us. She cooked, cleaned, and kept us out of trouble.” Will had stopped momentarily, as if his steps coincided with his thoughts. “She's family.”
As he walked down the long corridor, she followed him in silence, taking it all in at once. The expansive polished wood floors, and the old, antique paintings of ancestors whose eyes seemed to follow her — she felt like she was in an episode of Scooby Doo. A lot of the men were handsome, hard-eyed and mustached, in navy uniforms and elaborate pins. A military family — she would have never guessed. Lizzy looked at Darcy's back — he was fiddling with the lock of the guest room.
After they had dropped off her luggage, Elizabeth was led into the kitchen. Georgie had her long black plait tied back in a French braid, pretty as ever in a white paisley dress. She hugged Lizzy the minute she saw her, and couldn't stop the smile that broke out on her face. “I'm so happy you're here!”
Lizzy tensed up for a moment, then relaxed, laughing. “Um, I was expecting a party. I even brought wine!” She shoved the gift bag into Georgie's hands. The younger girl made an approving noise in the back of her throat, and examined the label. “Seriously, where is everybody? Why do I feel like the only guest?”
“Because you are,” said Georgiana, calmly. “My birthday party was yesterday, on a Saturday, when everybody was home.”
Lizzy's mouth flung open — she spun around to look at Will, but he was already nose-deep in the fridge, scouring the shelves for something they probably didn't even need. “Well, did I miss that?” she sputtered, confused.
“Of course not,” said Georgie, laughing. “It wasn't really a party–party — just some girlfrien
ds from college. But I always celebrate with my family on the actual day, and I thought it would be nice to have you here for the real deal.”
“That's so cute,” Lizzy said, miserably. “Stop it. Happy birthday.”
“Thanks!” She giggled, delighted.
“I left your gift in my suitcase — remind me to get it later?”
In the dining room, Lizzy spotted a familiar redhaired man in front of the cabinets, helping Nan pull out the fine china. Charlie spun around to stack dishes and nearly dropped the plate he was holding. “Lizzy!” An expression of panic crossed his face before he hid it with a smile. “Wow, hi.”
“Hi,” Lizzy said, smiling. “How are you?”
“Fine, fine. —— You?”
“Good, thanks.”
He didn't look fine. Charlie looked skinnier and exhausted. She had never seen those purplish-blue shadows under his eyes before. He looked into the plate, licked his lips, and set it down quickly — then he creased his brow, as if he had just forgotten what he had been doing. Nan elbowed him, and tilted her chin toward the silverware. “Make haste, child.”
Dinner was absolutely delicious. Lizzy fell head over heels in love with the evening — everybody was so goddamn happy. Georgie couldn't wipe the smile from her face, and Will looked the most relaxed that she had ever seen him — easy-humored, and quick to top a glass when somebody's wine dwindled. Nan sat at the head of the table, and raised her glass for the first toast.
“To Georgiana,” she said, slowly, her dark brown eyes lighting up with pride. “The sweetest girl I know. Lots of health and endless happiness to you, honey girl. Happy 20th.”
“Thank you.” Georgie blew a kiss across the table.
Charlie raised the second toast, quipped about an inside joke and an unfinished game of Halo he swore she had cheated on. They all laughed and clinked glasses and something inside Lizzy tugged for Charlie — she wanted to dislike him, but she couldn't. He looked so broken and unhappy. That seemed to be the last time he spoke all evening, excepting when somebody asked him to pass the potato salad — the rest of the time he just stared down at the table and scattered untouched peas across his plate.
“What's up with him?” Lizzy asked Georgie, after they had cleared the table.
They were in an empty kitchen, and Georgie was scrubbing plates with a dishcloth, swatting Lizzy away each time she tried to help. “Charlie's been working himself to the bone. I haven't seen him in months.” Georgie's voice dipped low, and Lizzy moved in closer. “Will told me he's compensating for the client he lost in Zurich.”
“He did?”
“Yeah. Charlie was consistently late to business meetings — blew off important associates. Will thinks he was depressed. Still looks it, though, doesn't he? I don't know what's up with him.”
Lizzy thought of Jane, pursed her lips, and said nothing.
• • •
After they had had dessert, after Georgie had blown out her birthday candles and Nan made sweet tea and they all scurried off to their respective rooms for the evening, Elizabeth stared at the ceiling and thought about her sister. Guilt consumed her again — what would she say if she knew she was here? What would she say if she knew she had seen Charlie? Lizzy reached over and flicked on the lamp.
She was wide awake — caffeinated tea had not been the best of ideas.
Exploring was her best bet.
The Pemberley estate was massive, and she had known it the second she pulled into the looping driveway that curved around a huge rustic fountain plunked dead-center in greenest of green lawns. Everything was white and marble and simply too beautiful to tear your eyes away from — it seemed more like a southern plantation, nestled under the canopy of many interweaving trees.
Lizzy padded downstairs barefoot, feeling around the walls, squinting into the darkness. It was a little too drafty, and she regretted not pulling a hoodie over her T-shirt and gym shorts.
In the west wing of the estate, two double French doors opened up to an indoor pool. Elizabeth stood in the doorway, amazed, and wondered what it would have been like to grow up in such a place. She took two steps in, and watched the glassy surface cast blue shadows, which danced and rippled on the sloped ceiling, and were interrupted by two inky-black skylights.
There was a figure sitting at the edge. Darcy's back was to her, his head lowered — he must have been reading.
Lizzy lingered.
Will was quick to look over his shoulder. He did a double take, and closed his book, surprised. “Hello.”
“Hi.”
She joined him, taking a seat and dipping her legs into the water. Lizzy shuddered instantly, laughing. “Did not anticipate it being that cold.”
“You'll get used to it,” Will said, smiling. “——Can't sleep?” She shook her head, and he looked out across the pool. “Yeah, neither can I. Actually, I always have trouble sleeping here. It's weird.”
“Mm,” said Lizzy, watching her toes curl beneath the water. “Was it scary as a kid?” Darcy glanced at her, confused, and she grinned. “Come on. By night, Pemberley so has that haunted house feel. It's not cobwebby, but it's massive. And those portraits in the hall? You're just missing a suit of armor.”
Darcy slowly smiled, then chuckled. “I guess you're right.”
“I am right,” she insisted. “But it is beautiful here.”
He looked proud, then — not arrogant, but pleased by her comment. They were both quiet for several minutes, and Lizzy closed her eyes, moving her feet back and forth. She pointed her toes and lifted her legs, as if practicing ballet. When she looked back at Darcy, he had opened his book again, revisiting a page.
“Thank you for the letter,” Lizzy said, quietly.
Will looked up, and his blue eyes scanned her face. He looked grave for a moment, lines forming in his face where they hadn't before. Finally he said, “I hope you understand now.”
“I do. I'm sorry for misjudging you.”
“I'm sorry for being such a prick,” Will replied.
Elizabeth laughed, and extended her hand. He shook it, smiling.
For all the insomnia-riddled nights she had spent pouring over what would happen on the off-chance that they would meet again, Lizzy was grateful for how seamlessly this was going. She leaned back on her hands, and looked down at the reflective surface of the water, watching a ripple expand and meld into a bigger circle.
“I'm really happy you're here,” said Will, softly. She looked at him, and was struck by the sincerity on his face.
Lizzy's brow crinkled. Without another thought, she leaned forward and fit her lips against his. It was tentative at first, an awkward but simple press of lips. Will turned his face to hers — they shared breaths for a moment, slow and innocent. Then he pulled her close and deepened the kiss, his mouth open and vulnerable. Lizzy rose up on her knees, and slipped her tongue past his bottom lip, one hand gripping his T-shirt by the fistful while the other moved to palm the back of his neck.
He still tasted the same. Exhilaration and panic filled her, but she was willing to temporarily overlook the latter. Her stomach twisted and felt queasy, and her fingertips thrummed with nervous energy. Darcy pulled back after a couple of minutes, his thumb brushing over the edge of her mouth.
“Hi,” murmured Lizzy, not recognizing her own voice for a moment. Will seemed lost for words, and she suddenly grinned, emboldened. “I wonder what would happen if I pushed you into the pool.”
His smile twisted into a smirk. “Please. My reflexes are kind of unparalleled —— whoa!”
The splash was jarringly loud. When Will finally bobbed up to the surface, coughing and sputtering, Lizzy could barely breathe. She was giggling hysterically, and wiped the tears from her eyes. “So easy!”
Will stood up, immersed in the water from the waist down. He mopped the dark hair away from his eyes, and Lizzy took the moment to admire the wet black T-shirt clinging to his broad shoulders and nice chest. “Yeah, keep laughing!” he insisted, sarcas
tically.
“I will!” said Elizabeth, grinning, self-satisfied. She glanced over her shoulder for a moment, hunting for a towel, when she felt a hand curl around her ankle. “No. —— No! You wouldn't dare, Will! —— Shit!”
Lizzy fell in with a scream, and water splashed along the edge of the pool where she had been sitting calmly moments before. Will, try as he might, could not stop laughing.
21
—
What You Know
Charlie's hair looked like someone had set it ablaze. It would have made her laugh, had she not been sobered up by the grave expression on his face. He was standing outside on the patio, his pale arms crossed tightly over his chest as he took in the sunrise. Elizabeth slid open the screen door and joined him. He acknowledged her presence with a short “good morning” and a smile — and Lizzy did the same. She leaned her mug of coffee on the deck railing, and glanced out toward the property.
The Pemberley estate, for all its grandiose beauty, was overgrown with weeds and shrubbery out back. A recent storm had torn a hole from the roof of the white-picket veranda across the backyard, debris scattered among the grass. Nan had been the only person keeping up the house in the last few months — quite a chore for a woman burdened with rheumatism.
“Did you sleep well?” asked Charlie, always polite.
Lizzy nodded. “And you?”
“Yes, thank you.”
A heavy silence fell between them, with Lizzy watching him out of the corner of her eye. Charlie sensed her attentions, and laughed uneasily. He gripped the railing and leaned back, stretching his forearms. “Oh, man,” he said, exhaling through his nostrils. “Reading me like a book, you are — you must hate me.”
She tilted her head, and frowned. “I could never hate you, Charlie. I kind of hate what happened, but it's not really in my hands. Or much of my business.”
He licked his lips, hesitated, then asked, “how's Jane?”
Lizzy chose her words carefully. “Good. Busy with work.”
