Two: Feel the Illinoise
(One Week Earlier)
If anybody was to blame, it was Charles Bingley.
Charles friggin' Bingley. With his wide smile and his easy manners and his dumb curly blond hair and that wasted, accumulating trust fund. As a business associate, Will despised him. As a best friend, he was indispensable. And as an all around fan of women, Charlie had gone and gotten himself involved with the nurturer among nurturers, Jane Bennet.
The name hadn't really clicked in Will's mind that Monday. They were having lunch at Panera Bread after a huge merger with Nike Women's Division – no thanks to Charlie, who had sat dreamily during the meeting, staring off at the large Margaret Bourke-White stills hanging on the wall. No, the merger had been Will's baby entirely. The ad campaign with the solitary, creatively independent woman had been his brainchild and his to take credit for. He could practically track the scent of a promotion on the horizon. Jay Reynolds was this close to pulling him up the ranks.
Charlie, on the other hand, was consumed with thoughts of the Golden Girl. Not Bea Arthur. This Golden Girl was Dr. Jane Bennet, some adorably sweet tempered woman he had met at an AIDS benefit a month ago in Chicago. She was with Doctors without Borders. His family had been a longtime sponsor. And when they met, why, even the angels in heaven thought it sickeningly sweet. Like scarfing down craploads of icing in too little time. Charlie worshiped the ground she walked on.
"She's in town this week, Will," he beamed, shuffling around his Greek salad without bothering to take a bite. "You have to meet her."
Will looked up and wiped his mouth on a napkin. "What, girlfriend #384? That's cute. Maybe she'll stick around long enough for Thanksgiving this time."
His friend glowered. "Sometimes I wish you'd choke on your sandwich."
"I'm too coordinated for asphyxiation, Charlie." Will took a bite out of his turkey sub.
"I'm serious about this girl. Jane could very well be the one."
"Yeah," Will muttered, checking his Blackberry. "The one you'll never see. Isn't she leaving to Africa for another six months?"
"Only three this time," corrected Charlie.
"Lucky you."
But Charlie couldn't be beaten down. He even smiled while eating, which, quite frankly, got a little creepy. "Still, I'll stay in touch with her while she's gone. And her younger sister's flying out to Uganda next month to visit," he looked down, thinking out loud. "Maybe I can ask Lizzy to split airfare."
"Who?" Will asked distractedly, thumbing through his messages. Carrie, Carrie, George, Jay, Jay, Carrie, Catherine, Charlie. Carrie again. He grimaced. Maybe texting should be banned.
Charlie shrugged, "Lizzy Bennet, her sister. I've only met her a couple of times. Actually, I borrowed a record from her. Her dad passed on a pretty incredible collection. She works with designing album covers. I forget which label. Parlophone, I think. Or is it Parasol? Whatever."
Normally, Will would've selectively tuned out Charlie's frequent rambling. Because well, Charlie had a habit of talking himself in circles. But the name struck him deep, coiled around his mind and wouldn't let go. He looked up. "Lizzy Bennet," Will repeated slowly.
"Yep."
"Elizabeth Bennet?"
"…Yeah, I guess."
He looked down at the table. No. What are the chances? "What does she look like?"
Charlie's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "I'm not setting you up. You're engaged. Besides, she has a boyfriend."
"Good for her," Will chuckled. He pinched the bridge of his nose, strangely amused. "No, Charlie. Lizzy Bennet was my girlfriend in college."
"Bullshit," Charlie laughed. "You never settled down during grad school."
"Undergrad, smartass."
Charlie's eyebrows rose. "Oh. Oh, wow. You committed?"
"Once upon a time," Will smirked. He leaned back and unscrewed the cap of his iced tea. "Shocker, I know."
"Jesus," whistled Charlie. "You sure it's the same girl?"
"I remember a sister named Jane," Will nodded, looking off in thought. "And Lizzy was an Art History major at Muhlenberg. She was working at galleries part time. I don't think she ever left Philadelphia. It has to be her. I'm pretty damn sure of it."
"So what, you dumped her?"
"It was more complicated that," Will sat up. "No, I didn't really dump her. I mean, I loved her. We were together for three years. But Junior year I got accepted to Keefe's internship program, remember? That was in Geneva. A year after that, he led me to Bob. I finished school. Worked a couple years at Sanford, travelled up the chains until I met Reynolds and we booked that first deal with AT&T—"
"Where you became the brilliant, overpaid executive, we know," Charlie rolled his eyes. "Funny how every topic leads to your astonishing career. So what happened to Lizzy?"
Will shrugged, "I don't know. We said goodbye at the airport. I promised to be back in a year."
"But you didn't come back to Philadelphia until Jay hired you," Charlie said thoughtfully. "You worked in Seattle for five years after Switzerland. And then New York. And then Philly."
"That's the gist of it."
"You never came back to her," he said blankly.
Will shrugged noncommittally. "Life goes on, Charlie."
"But you loved her."
"Yeah," he shrugged. "I did. You know, she even begged me to stay. We had been talking about this internship for half a year at least, and at the last moment she wants me to stay and forget about it. I still don't know why. Something had changed, she just seemed so desperate. And I thought it was so unfair. My bags were checked in and I had the boarding pass in my hand and everything was set up. I was like, Are you shitting me? It was a once in a lifetime opportunity. A kid like me, up in Geneva? Come on."
Charlie sighed. "That's pretty bleak."
"I know, right? She was holding me back."
"No, what you did," laughed Charlie incredulously. "The girl loved you and you didn't even have the decency to come back to her."
"If I came back to her, I would never be in the position I am in today. Things happen for a reason. I would never be this successful. For God's sake, I wouldn't even be engaged to your own sister," Will snorted. "Should I tell Carrie you're rooting on another woman?"
"Leave my sister out of this," Charlie grimaced. "I already find it weird that we're going to be brothers. But seriously, Will. Maybe it would do you some good to see Elizabeth. Let bygones be bygones. Clear some things out of the way."
"What's there to clear? It hasn't bothered me all this time. And it's been ten years at least."
"God, you're cold," laughed Charlie. "Only you, man. Heart of stone."
"Got to be thick skinned, Bingley," Will smiled. A pause. "You're paying for my lunch, right?"
The sleek and shiny offices of the Deerbourne building were practically a fifteen minute powerwalk from Walnut Street. Not that Will Darcy would be caught dead powerwalking. Who has the luxury to be hustled in a $900 suit? He took a cab, because his threads practically demanded it. Slipping out two crisp bills from his money clip, he paid his fare and stepped out onto the curb.
A bike suddenly whirled past and nearly clipped him. He lurched back at the last minute, and the girl looked back apologetically, her long blonde ponytail flaring behind her like a ribbon. She smiled serenely and Will suppressed the chill that ran down his spine. That was bizarre. He walked up the path and a passing employee smiled; Will scanned in his ID card and disappeared inside.
At the reception desk of the thirteenth floor, Anna Bourgh was racked with nervous butterflies just as soon as the elevator doors chimed open. "Good afternoon, Mr. Darcy!"
"Same to you, Anna," Will smiled pleasantly, turning around the corner. He paused momentarily. "Any messages?"
"Greg Bernhardt wants to move the meeting to three o'clock. Phil Mercer called. Oh, and your fiancee's waiting for you in your office." At this last anecdote, Anna's smile faltered for a second. She was hopelessly, irrevocably in love with her boss. And he hadn't even noticed her new haircut. Or her last name.
"Thank you."
"You're welcome!"
Will walked through the maze of cubicles, across the hall, and to the East Wing. At the sound of his name, he spun around. Jay Reynolds had his head poked out from his office door. "I thought that was you. Long lunch break, Darcy."
"Bingley needed a shoulder to cry on, sir," Will grinned.
Jay laughed and walked out. "Of course he did. You up to speed with the Nike shoot?"
"Completely, Jay."
"Oh, and," his boss cleared his throat, hooking his thumbs through the belt hoops of his trousers, "what's the deal with Mercer? Victoria showed me his run through. He missed the entire point of it. It's a disaster."
"You saw that?" Will grimaced. "Damn, I at least hoped to have them scrapped by now. I've already gotten Hughes and Lopacki redesigning the third. I'll email you an attachment -- it's so much better, there aren't even enough words to describe it."
Jay grinned, "You're the only one I can count on, Will. And Mercer?"
"Consider him sacked."
Reynolds looked uncomfortable for a moment. "But his family situation..."
"With all due respect, Jay," Will sighed, "this is his third error in two months. We work with Nike, for Chrissake. You were the one who emphasized the competence of the staff, were you not? We're not responsible for his personal shortcomings."
Jay sighed and removed his glasses, polishing them with his cuff. "You're right."
"I know."
He smiled solemnly, "Well, I trust your judgment. Do what you have to do."
"Of course," Will nodded. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have some paperwork to handle in my office."
"Be my guest, son."
"Thank you, sir," he smiled.
Will Darcy's office, of course, had an absolutely fantastic view of City Hall. Carrie Bingley just happened to be temporarily obscuring it. She sat on his desk with her legs crossed, her reading glasses perched at the end of her nose. He stopped in the doorway. Sometimes she was just too attractive. Not really beautiful. Nor pretty. Just striking. Long and slender and completely modelesque. Basically the type of woman to spark eating disorders among thirteen year old girls across America. She looked up when Will shut the door.
"You're late," she set aside a folded copy of Newsweek.
"Carrie," Will laughed, loosening his tie.
"What took you?"
"I was having lunch with Charlie," he explained. "Any complaints can be forwarded to your brother."
Carrie smiled, "I can sense a pattern here. It's not going to work, you know."
"Really?" Will murmured, leaning down to kiss her. "That sucks."
She pulled away with a short laugh. "Stop trying to distract me. We're picking out the cake today, remember?"
Will groaned, "That's today? I have a meeting in two hours."
"Tough shit," Carrie smirked. She withdrew a compact mirror from her Coach purse, touching up her eyeliner. "I set aside time to be here."
"Right. You're incredibly busy," Will concealed a smile.
Carrie rolled her eyes. Not that she really had a career. Having Daddy's money at your fingertips certainly works that way. She was more like a (semi)heiress/pilates instructor/socialite/fashionista, if such could be accredited as a job. They had been going out for a year. Marriage had never been in the equation, until one day, during an extremely early strike of midlife crisis, Will had reassessed his sitation and thought, "What the fuck am I doing? I'm thirty one. I should be married." Hence, the ever impulsive proposal. After all, they fit together. And Will thought, if not now, when? He would probably forget. Everything else was a backdrop to his career.
Will powered on his Macbook and sighed, drumming his fingers against his desk. "Can't you get Vittorio to show us the samples some other time?"
"We've already rescheduled twice, Will."
"Third time's the charm," he insisted. "Just give me a few more days to settle the fine print of this merger. Saturday, I'm all yours."
Carrie sighed and slid off of his desk. "Promise?"
"Of course."
She nodded and closed her purse, slinging it over her shoulder. "In that case, I'm going to go visit Louisa. I'll see you tonight." She bent down to kiss him, smiling. "If you still remember our new address, that is."
"At least I remember our doorman's name," he murmured, touching her hair briefly. "Unlike some people."
She frowned, "It's Larry, right?"
"Gary," Will laughed. "You're so clueless."
"Whatever," Carrie smirked. "I'll call you."
"Okay," he held the door open for her as she left, watching her disappear down the hall.
Will sighed and took a seat back in his chair, folding his hands behind his head. He closed his eyes. For some reason, he couldn't get his mind off Elizabeth Bennet. The conversation with Charlie had made him somewhat nostalgic.
God, Lizzy? He had never really forgotten her. How could he forget that feisty green eyed artist with the riotous curls and the killer right hook? He remembered the first time he met her, stranded out in the apartment hallway in nothing more than a towel, pounding her fists savagely against her door. She had been locked out by her roommate just after showering, and her hair was practically dripping in rivulets. Man, who had been her freshman roommate? Something Lucas. Sarah. Chiara. Kara. Did it even matter?
He remembered lending her a shirt that morning as they walked together to maintenance to get a spare key. He remembered how self conscious and flustered she had been, blushing and laughing and cracking jokes at herself, the hem of his collared shirt practically brushing against her knees. She was adorable and sharp witted and completely enchanting. A week later, he asked her out in their Philosophy through Media class. Three years later, Will caught himself daydreaming about marrying Elizabeth Bennet.
Will's eyes opened and he stared at the ceiling. Deep down, he must have realized that Charlie's connection would have them brushing by each other at some point. He just didn't really believe it yet. Instead, Will opened his browser and checked his email, thinking that some things were better off left in the past.
Author's Note: Jeebus, guys. You're officially the best. I can totally commence with some plot goodness in the third chapter now (technically, the second half of it). Plus, I start work Monday and I wanted to get this little background slice out of the way beforehand. Because, you know, I can't wait for ten hour work days in an office building for two months. But yeah. Ya'll are great. And I'm not Southern. But I pretty much love you. Next chapter is much more of a Lizzy chapter. So keep your eyes open. :)
