by Ari Rhoge
There was a pregnant pause.
Darcy cleared his throat first. “Sorry we're late.”
“Yeah,” Lizzy chimed in, pushing her hair out of her face. “There was an accident on 611.”
Lydia was quiet.
Then she slapped her hands onto the table, burst out of her seat, and attracted the attention of her waitresses' entire section at Red Robin. “I fucking called it! Friend of a friend. Friend of a fucking friend? Like, you can't bullshit a bullshitter, Lizzy — but at least be up front with me. Ooh, look at me, I'm Elizabeth and I'm strong and independent and nothing's going on but I'm just going to eye-bang this dude all over the fucking place and pretend that I don't want to have his tall, lanky, posh children!” She closed her mouth for a moment, then continued — “I mean, obviously they wouldn't be tall at first. That would be, like, really painful to push out.”
Lizzy's face was so red that it almost matched her sweatshirt. “Are you done?”
“Yeah. —— Hi, Will.”
“Hi, Lydia. Glad to see you're feeling better.”
“Can we just sit down in the booth please,” Lizzy, still mortified, whispered urgently to Will. He didn't think twice about it, and let her sit first before sitting down beside her. Then she leaned in closely. “Lydia, what the actual fuck? Are you trying to get us thrown out of here? I'd really like to order a Banzai Burger and a freckled lemonade first.”
“I'm just having a bad day,” Lydia said, sighing. She ran her fingers through her short blond hair.
Darcy's phone went off, and he apologized. “It's Georgie — I'll just be a sec.” He excused himself to go to the restroom corridor. Lydia's sharp gaze followed him until he was gone.
“Tell me you finally tapped that.”
“Whatever, Lyddie — I don't owe you any details.”
Lydia laughed, delighted. Her mood was improving. “Ugh, you adorable fuckers… I'm happy for you. Seriously.”
A big smile broke out on Elizabeth's face, which she tried, unsuccessfully, to fight.
“I'm also pretty jealous,” her little sister muttered, running her index finger absently around the rim of her glass. “You're with a guy, Jane is with a guy — it's like the whole world is hooking up with the heroes while I collect the scum.”
“You trust too easily. You see what you want to see. We all do. But have a little faith,” Lizzy encouraged. “Jane with a guy?” Her face scrunched up. “Oh, don't tell me she's back with Boatshoes Brian. I will just flip my shit.”
“Top-Siders guy?” Lydia shook her head. “No, this one she called an old friend. I didn't stick around long enough to pry — but he was cute.” She pondered for a moment. “In a depressed-dude kind of way.” A shrug. “Maybe he's her patient.”
“She's a physical therapist, not a therapist.” Elizabeth's brows knitted together. “Did you get his name?”
“I don't remember,” she replied, in all honesty, rubbing her forehead. “I was in an emotional black pit of man-hating and despair. I don't think it was that important.”
“Sorry, sweetie.” Lizzy squeezed her hand across the table. “The good news is that Jane now knows where Wickham is, so now we can beat the absolute living shit out of him.”
Lydia began to smile again. “I heard. I have brass knuckles in my purse. —— So, why is Will here?”
Elizabeth shrugged. “He wanted to visit me.”
“Just out of the blue?”
“Yup. I came to see him in his hometown just before you went missing. I spent the weekend with him, and his sister, Georgie — it was her birthday.” She smiled faintly, remembering how warm and inviting the reception had been at Pemberley. “It was really, really nice.”
“I fucking hate you guys.”
“Whatever, man. You interrupted some quality time.”
“Fuck that.”
“Look at you F-bombing away.”
“What can I say? You're rubbing off on me.”
Lizzy grinned. Her sister smiled back, and they started a half-hearted thumb war over the table. Elizabeth told her that she could come back to her apartment now. “I don't know.” Lydia sighed, whimsically. “What if I walk in on you guys? That's gonna be awkward. Also, Blue Eyes better cough up for Thai Food Thursdays if he's gonna be stickin' around.”
She rolled her eyes. “Not even an issue.”
“So, he's paying for it all, then?” Lydia grinned.
Lizzy slapped her hand.
“What about when Charlotte moves back in?” Lydia said, seriously, Lizzy meeting her eye. “Jane told me about the divorce.”
Lizzy pursed her lips. “I'm not kicking you out. Charlotte made the decision to leave. The rest we can figure out, if she does decide she wants back in. I pay for that apartment in full now.”
“But I told you I can help with the rent!” Lydia piped up. “I mean, yeah — GAP is pretty shitty with their bi-weekly pay, but I can pick up another part-time job, too. My friend Jenny is a shift supervisor at Starbucks. It should be fine.”
“I need you to focus on school, right now — and save up your money. Don't worry about the rest.” A beat, then, “also, I really hated being a barista — retail's a little less shitty.”
Will was making his way back to the table now, phone still wedged between ear and shoulder. He stopped short, however, and rolled his eyes. Georgie was still yammering his ear off — he made a chitchat-gesture with his hand, and Lizzy grinned, waving her hand.
Lydia was glancing over her shoulder at him. She looked back at her sister, and hooked her blond hair behind both ears. “You know, he's probably in love with you. I think I could tell from the get-go, when we met him at his sister's gig.”
“Oh, stop.”
This was the second person to propose such an idea, the first being Richard — the idea still sat heavily in her stomach. Lizzy fiddled with the silverware. Too soon. Everything was too soon. It was terrifying. And it was easy — it was always easy to be swept up into something, but that was how things turned to shit, wasn't it?
It was what had happened with Steven.
“I'm just saying that you guys make me want to vomit —— in the best way possible,” Lydia said, attempting to rationalize her frankness. Will caught a snippet of this, and took his seat, puzzled.
“What did we order as an appetizer?”
“Mozzarella sticks.”
• • •
Wickham had moved in with an acquaintance a few weeks back, and was living in his shoddy one-bedroom palace above an Indian restaurant in Newcastle, New Jersey. Lizzy did it all quietly. She got the address from Jane, went early in the morning, and kept to herself. The owner let her in, mistaking her for a girlfriend, and left Elizabeth to Wickham's dark, messy, curry-and-cat-litter-scented apartment.
The cat, a tawny, sweet little thing, swept by her ankles, and raised no hint of alarm. Lizzy pet the scruff of his neck, and crept into the bedroom. Greg was sleeping on a bed that probably wasn't his own, with the white sheets bunched around his waist, and his arms flapped out to his sides. It wasn't immediately obvious that he had any underwear on — she hoped that he did. Flashing of man-junk this early in the morning was just not permissible.
Then again, it did add to the vulnerability of the situation.
This was Lizzy's last thought before she took the glass of water on his bedside table and poured it on his head.
So violent was Wickham's reaction (scream and all) that she had to take a jump backward to avoid his swinging arms.
“What the hell? —— Lizzy?” Greg was staring at her blearily, standing up with his fists clenched. Cold water was dripping from his hair, and spattering onto his shoulders. At least he had briefs on. She glowered at him until his mouth closed and his back straightened. “Oh. Oh, this isn't good.”
“Damn straight it's not. What the fuck is the matter with you?”
“Listen—”
“My sister, assface? —— What are you? A child predator?”
“Wel
l that's a little out of line… she is of age—”
“Yeah, well so is my dad's samurai sword from his visit to Japan about 30 years ago — do you want a taste of that as well?”
Wickham sighed. “It was wrong of me, okay? Sorry. —— But I didn't fucking kidnap your sister. She came willingly, though proved to be insufficient company, so I left her. It's a free country, isn't it?”
“Oh, well that's very considerate of you,” Lizzy snapped. “Thanks for that. Not like the police were involved, or that you riled up an entire county and almost gave a mother of four a coronary.”
Wickham sighed again, gravely, as if it was his time she was eating. “My bad. Anybody ever tell you that you're pretty sexy when you're angry?” She slapped him upside the head. “Mother of God.” Wickham exhaled through his teeth, and rested his hands on his knees. “You Bennets are seriously getting on my last nerve. It was cute at first, but now it's like you're all a clan of bitches —— and I am just not having it.”
She was just about to strike him again when he put up his hands. “Wait, wait, wait! Did Will put you up to this? —— Because I can't respect a man that sends a woman to fight his battles.”
Her fist was still raised. “What you're saying is making no sense to me at all. This is my sister that we're talking about. This has nothing to do with Will.”
Greg raised his eyebrows. “Oh.”
Lizzy's arm dropped to her side. She squinted at him. “What are you not telling me?”
“Nothing, nothing, nothing. Just that your boyfriend did some serious nosing around outside his business premises. He found me, and threatened me. You sure you want a hothead like that?”
Her mouth moved, but no words came out. She stood, perplexed, staring at him. “Threatened you to do what?”
“To call you.”
Lizzy was frowning now. “Well, he didn't say anything to me about that. —— What the fuck?”
“Douchebag — am I right?” Wickham attempted at solidarity again.
“No.” Lizzy's shoulders fell. She pinched the bridge of her nose.
“Well, anybody who interrupts my lunch to wrinkle my shirt, get in my face and make me call a girl to 'fess up is certainly no friend of mine,” Wickham muttered. He now had an unlit cigarette in his mouth, and was searching his jacket pockets for a lighter. Lizzy was too preoccupied to hear him.
Will had hunted him down — had somehow pieced it together. How?
How much did she owe to Will Darcy? He had plucked at the strings behind the scenes. Why all the trouble? She wondered how long it had been after she had left until he had left Pemberley himself. “Sneaky bastard,” she muttered, half under her breath. But she couldn't stop the smile that tugged at her mouth. Will was just… infuriating.
Infuriating and perfect.
Which was, in and of itself, infuriating.
“He is a bastard,” Wickham agreed, moving his fingers through his floppy, light brown hair. The gesture reminded her of Lydia. “But don't worry, darling. I told him that you hate his guts. —— Ruined his day — I think he has a little crush on you. —— So cute,” he drawled, sarcastically.
Lizzy had stopped smiling now. “You need to stop fucking with people's little sisters. Literally and figuratively, you massive twatwaffle.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Georgiana Darcy.”
“She was pretty stupid, too.”
Lizzy couldn't help herself. She didn't even have to think about it — her fist curled instinctively, and hit Wickham squarely in the face. It hurt like hell… Wickham had fallen backward onto his bed with a cry, as blood spurted from his nose and out through between his fingers.
She left him like that — opened the door with the hand not injured, gave a last quick glance at the cat, and let herself out.
27
—
La Chute
Lizzy winced as Will delicately unfurled her fingers, a look of concern marking his face. He turned her wrist. “I really hope you didn't fracture your hand… how did this happen to you?”
She lowered her eyes, demurely. “Oh, you know me — wasn't looking where I was going, stumbled into the doorframe.”
“With your hand?” Will said, doubtful.
“My whole arm, really. And my hand, which, uh… happens to be attached to the arm itself, so…” She glanced away, back toward Gate 34. They were at JFK Airport's Terminal 3, part of a semicircle of clustered family, friends and acquaintances of complete strangers flying in from California. Lizzy, try as she might, could not hide her bruised hand with the sleeve of her coat. I should have worn gloves.
Will said nothing more, but was frowning now.
They had not seen each other for a few days. He had to return back to the city for work, and Lizzy had attended a teaching seminar upstate, somewhere outside Exton. But it was late December now, and Charlotte's arrival date had, well, arrived. Darcy offered to drive. He was being chivalrous, to gain brownie points but also to keep Lizzy's easily provoked road rage in check. The girl could barely refrain from attacking the horn while driving behind the elderly on quaint, suburban streets. He didn't want to see what she was like, when she was unleashed in New York.
Not that she would have necessarily done anything now. Lizzy Bennet had been eerily quiet all day — all week, rather. She hadn't called him once while they were separated, was mute now they were together — and, every once in a while, Will could feel her staring intently at his face — then he would turn sharply, and lose her altogether. Perhaps she was hiding something.
Lizzy snapped him out of his reverie. “There she is! With… that sneaky, sneaky bastard.”
Richard Fitzwilliam had Charlotte's carry-on slung over his shoulder, with his own messenger bag crossed over his chest. His blond hair was cropped short, and he had sunglasses on, which was silly since it was already dinnertime. Charlotte was wearing a purple Haverford College hoodie and gray sweatpants — had her hair up in a ponytail, too, and was wearing minimal makeup. She looked very much like Lizzy's ex-roommate. It filled her heart with joy — maybe they could eat ramen on her couch now.
“Well, look what the cat dragged in.” Richard was grinning, pulling Lizzy in for a hug. “Miss Lizzy, why so surprised?”
“I didn't know you were coming!” Lizzy cried. She kissed Charlotte on the cheek, and smiled, feeling her spirits lighten for the first time all week. “Oh, I missed you. —— You look good.”
“Thanks,” Charlotte said. She didn't look all that good — too skinny and too tired. All sharp edges and no energy. Lizzy put her arm around her shoulders, and squeezed her in a hug.
“You didn't tell her I was flying in?” Richard said, to his cousin.
Will's brows pulled together. “No… I did.”
“You didn't,” insisted Lizzy.
“Oh. Sorry.”
“Domestic dispute.” This got Richard a punch in the gut. “Easy, love. I'll hop back on the plane and get my sweet ass back to California if you carry on with this abuse.”
“So, what's the occasion?” Lizzy had threaded her arm with his as they wheeled their suitcases out. “What brings you to the East Coast?”
“Your spectacular weather,” Richard said, dryly. All looked past the entrance, where it was gray and miserable. It had been drizzling on and off all day.
“I'm serious.”
“I'm visiting old Willis here.” Richard reached across to ruffle Darcy's hair. He scowled, and ducked out of the way. “Missed you, too. —— Anyway, ex-missus over here mentioned she's flying back across the country — and I thought I'd buy myself a ticket, hang out with the Darcys, and see if you two have kissed and made up yet. … Sensitive subject? You're blushing, Lizzy.”
“No, I'm not.”
She was. Charlotte cocked her head perceptively.
• • •
It wasn't until they were in the car, the boys up front and the ladies in the back, that her ex-roommate brought up the issue of the ap
artment. “I know I've been awful at keeping touch,” she began, nervously. “So, I can't expect my room to be empty. I mean, if I were in your position I'd be renting it out or something. Is that the case?”
“I wouldn't call it rent, exactly. But I do make her wash dishes and go on Wawa runs sometimes.”
Charlotte raised her eyebrows. “You don't charge your new roommate?”
“It's Lydia. What kind of big sister would I be?”
“Oh.” She, smiling, relaxed. “Well…”
“We'll figure something out,” said Lizzy, supportively. But, in all honesty, she had no idea if she could bring Charlotte back in. It made her feel bad. But, then again, Charlotte could not expect life to remain as it was when she had left all those months ago, could she? Indeed, a great deal had changed.
“I'll stay with my parents for now,” Charlotte said. “Really, it's no problem.” Lizzy nodded, uncomfortable. Then Charlotte took her hand and lowered her voice. “You and Will seem like friends now. I understand that he's here for Richard, but I expected bickering from you both. Again.”
“Mmhmm,” said Lizzy, threading her fingers through her ponytail.
“He's not so bad, is he?”
She smiled with pursed lips, as if holding in a laugh. “No. Not so bad.”
“Just beware though. The way that man looks at you…” Charlotte trailed off, chuckling.
“Pa-fucking-diddle!” Richard declared, with his loud, boisterous laugh. “See? See. Who says I can't master this silly little game? Whipping your American asses.”
“Whupping.”
“Pretty sure it's whipping.”
“Sounds gross,” Lizzy argued.
“You're gross,” Richard countered.
“Your mom's gross.”
“Hey. Leave Momma Fitz out of this.”
“Make me.”
“Brazen hussy—”
“Children, would you stop?” said Darcy, exasperated. He came to a stop before a red light. “It's very distracting.”
Richard mimicked him in a high-pitched voice, and got another slap.
15 minutes into the drive, rain started to slash against the windshield, so violently that all hushed up so Will could concentrate on the road. Then they began to crawl at a dismal speed, stuck in bumper-to-bumper traffic because two lanes were closed off. Lizzy craned her neck to see if anybody was moving. Just barely. She watched the rain shimmer in the glow from all the headlights. She grew sleepy. Someone was honking a few cars back.
