"Call her."
"No."
"Do the right thing and call her."
Charles extended the phone to Darcy, who just stared at it like it was a mutating organism. There was a fine sheen across his forehead, like he was being coerced into something. Which couldn't be more closer to the truth. It had been one day, and Darcy hadn't lost any sleep over offending the girl's feelings. So why was Charles getting so hot and bothered about it? The insisting had steadily crept up this morning, until it turned into plain harassment.
"Fine." Darcy finally snapped, dialing. "But she won't answer after seeing my number-" He complacently placed the receiver against his ear. "She's too proud for-"
"Hello?" someone who could be only described in abject misery answered the phone.
Shit.
Darcy paled.
His mouth worked, but no sound came out.
"Who is this?" asked the voice timidly, still sounding small.
Of course she didn't have his number. He'd never given it.
Desperately, Darcy looked up at Charles, expecting him to coach him through this. But the bastard was gesturing his hands in a roly-poly motion, to encourage him to say something. What exited was a series of a gurgles, that a baby would be proud off, and he slammed the receiver back down.
"You idiot!" Charles wheeled away, fists bunched in his disgustingly spruced hair. "Why didn't you say something?"
"I didn't know what to say!"
"How about sorry for starters? I'm a dick that likes making women cry. Please can I have your humble forgiveness?"
"Listen-" Darcy pointed a pen. "That was meant to be a private conversation -"
"In a very public foyer! Tell me, do you shit in the same place you eat too?"
Both men faced each other off, though Darcy had the disadvantage of being stuck behind his desk. He still thought it was a horrific idea, bringing Elizabeth Bennet on board, despite how much she excelled on paper. She was so pitiful, he almost felt sorry that she'd heard everything he had to say about her without it being censored. And that ridiculous notion of pity, was sitting uncomfortably in his stomach indeed. Damn his conscious. Somewhere in that skull, still retained that little boy's ideal of not wanting to see girls cry. Although, all he'd done was see her fleeing back, it had been enough for Bingley to clip him over the head.
He just couldn't handle tears.
Especially from people who had legitimate reasons to cry.
And Elizabeth had a lot.
"Darcy, ring her again."
"Let's give her some breathing space, hmmm?"
"Do you want this fist shoved up your-"
Both men jumped, as the phone started ringing of it's cradle. Caller ID placed it as Elizabeth, ringing back, to see who'd just called her. Darcy looked frozen on the spot. The berk appeared to be terrified, of talking to her, and actually finding out how to move pass this. It was clear as day, he felt guilty about what had gone down and now he didn't know how to handle the repercussions.
Charles, seeing this very real human emotion, decided to spare him just this once.
He picked up the cradle, and pressed the button, for him to take the call in another room.
"Hold on," he said. "I'll transfer you to another line."
Bingley spent half and hour on the call, and when he came back, he crossed his arms and leaned against the doorway. Darcy frowned, and pretended like he was sifting through some legal paperwork, but every part of him was aware that the outcome of the call was staring him solidly in the face.
"She wants to talk to you," Charles said softly. "Don't balls it up."
.
.
She'd picked the place, wanting to meet him on her terms.
Darcy arrived first, and picked a spot towards the back, near the toilets, like he wanted to tuck himself away from the world. She'd chosen a low-traffic coffeehouse, where people didn't have to shout to be heard and everything was plodding along at a pedestrian pace. Unused to being in his own company for so long, Darcy's leg started bouncing up and down as he stared through the door.
He could see all the way out onto the road, and his heart did a funny kind of can-can, when a slight female in a loose-fitting white top, and skinny jeans, with her hair gathered at the top of her head, revealing her little neck and the beginnings of her collarbone, pushed open the door, by using most of her body.
Was it her?
He narrowed his eyes, surprised and a little annoyed he didn't know.
When did he become so obtuse?
He watched the woman walk, quick and very direct. And then...
Someone pushed their chair back and stood up, blocking the woman's way. Without breaking her stride, she calmly did a right angle turn and walked around the empty table to her left, so she could clear the obstruction, without demanding the person to move or politely requesting it.
She was prepared to walk extra far, just to prevent inconveniencing someone else...
No, she was heading to the counter, rooting around in her bag for a purse. Darcy sprung up, and ate up the room in seconds, pulling his wallet out along the way. He pushed a tenner over to the barista, and braced a hand against the small of her back, wanting to guide her back to his table.
Her face, turned to him, delicate and frowning.
"Who are you?"
"I'm-" the words died on his lips.
It wasn't her. It wasn't her.
"So..." a voice drawled from behind the counter, like it was a bad dream. "I see you can't resist picking up girls, even when it's meant to be a serious meeting between you and me. Don't you have a single sensitive bone in your body?"
He turned and met the red-rimmed eyes of Elizabeth Bennet. There was nothing delicate about the expression on her face. The lines on her face was harsh and unforgiving, her build slim, but with a bit more curve to her shoulders, bust and hips. She was hiding under her cap and apron, but she quickly removed those, and called out to another staff member, who was standing closer to the tills.
"I'm clocking out for the day, Mr Collins. I'll see you when you're next understaffed."
"You - You work in a coffee place?"
She said coolly, "I'm a temp. I work in lots of places."
"But usually coffeehouses, bars, diners...that kind of thing?"
"Yes. It's an environment I've been working in since I was seventeen, and feel the most comfortable in. Here, I don't get reduced to nerves or become a blubbering wreck. I'm simply me."
Darcy quirked an eyebrow.
"Surprised?" Elizabeth asked humourlessly. "That I actually pay for myself in this big, wide world? That I actually have something to say - savour," she changed the last word to savour, the closest to admitting he'd said all those hurtful things. Darcy felt even more dreadful. He'd really cut her bone deep. How could he reverse all the damage he'd caused?
"I heard you're leaving for the day," he blurted out. "Do you want a lift home? My car's just outside..."
She responded by staring at him, eyes wide.
And then, something strange happened - her lips turned slightly upwards, like she was fighting a smile.
Darcy threw caution into the wind, and beamed outrageously back at her, wanting to show the relief he felt, that she wasn't turning him away, cursing him to hell and back, and throwing pound coins at him like heat seeking missiles. Elizabeth's hand went up, and played around with the silver pendant around her neck.
"Wow," she muttered to herself. "That actually looked sincere."
The easy smile on Darcy's face slipped away, to be replaced by a frown.
"I can be sincere when I want."
"Okay," she said, disbelievingly. "Look, I haven't got to the point where I want to accept free rides from you, but I'll be willing to walk down the road, and you have till the end of it, to say your piece and move on."
"I'll make every minute count."
"We'll meet outside in five, then."
.
.
They walked side by side, together yet apart. Whenever a person approached them on the pavement from the opposite direction, they'd move like magnets repelling each other, allowing the person to walk through the gap in the middle. It earned them a few pointed looks, because people weren't sure if they were companions or not. Despite declaring he'd make every minute count, the first one went by, without a peep from him.
But that all changed well into the second minute.
This time, Darcy forgot to repel himself from Elizabeth. When he saw a mother approaching with a buggy, he instinctively placed a hand on Elizabeth's arm, and tucked himself behind her, so the woman could pass. He smiled at the woman, as she nodded at him in appreciation.
"That was...nice."
Darcy let Elizabeth abruptly go.
"I didn't know you had it in you." She peeked over her shoulder.
"Why?" He said stiffly. "I'm capable of compassion."
"Really?"
Ouch, he walked right into that.
"Why did you agree to meet me?" He drew level with her again, knowing there was quite a walk ahead of them. "Did Charles bribe you?"
"No. He just groveled on your behalf."
"I should thank him," he said faintly.
"You really hurt me. Yesterday...wasn't nice."
"God, this is going to erode my masculinity." Darcy took a deep breath through his nose. "But I suppose I should Sigmund Freud that shit. That stuff I came out with...I'm deeply sorry. My mother raised me better than that. It's just that...whenever I feel like I can't connect with someone, or they're not interested in connecting with me - it's my natural instinct to insult them. I do it behind customers backs too. It's a tough habit to break." He closed his eyes momentarily, having just divulged a shameful secret about himself.
Saying it out loud, made him looking like a little schoolboy incapable of accepting petty differences.
How bad must he look in her eyes?
Why did he suddenly care?
"Will you forgive me?" He said, blinking at the sky. "I know I'm a asshole, but I don't like seeing people cry."
Elizabeth stopped incredulously. The time, she jerked him to the side, allowing a fast walker to overtake them. They both stopped conveniently near a bus-stop, so it didn't look too out of place.
"At any point talking to you," Elizabeth asked incredulously. "Did you see me bursting into tears?"
"Well, no but-"
"Where did that come from then?"
"Well, didn't you - yesterday?"
"I admit, it did take me ten minutes to recover. But from a young age, I've known most people are quick to judge, from visual cues alone. It's unavoidable. Even deep-thinkers like me can't help going by first impressions." She smiled lightly at nothing. "But you hadn't talked me, or if you did - not for long. That's what rankled the most. You didn't even give me the chance to speak, and yet you labelled me as someone devoid of personality. I felt angry, but it's your depth of character at the end of the day - very shallow."
It felt like someone had landed an uppercut to his face.
He always sought meaning in his life. He gave to charity. Helped out at the soup-kitchens.
But maybe he did it all that, because his mother drilled it into him - give to the poor, give to the poor...
Give everything except your heart.
"But maybe..." she added reluctantly, staring up at the bus timetable. The next one was imminently due. "You're one of these people who appear shallow on the surface, but when you jump in, it's deceptively a sinkhole. It takes a lot of guts to admit you're wrong...and you did just that. Congratulations."
"Charles was right." He watched a bus pull into the stop, and the doors swing open. "You're...You're exactly what the company needs."
It pained him to admit it.
But would she say yes?
.
.
.
A/N: Thank you to everyone that reviewed. Yes, I made Darcy blond, I hope you don't mind since he's got black hair in the original, but I wanted to capitalize on the whole "golden boy" thing and also the two people who compared this to Ugly Betty are genius's. It's a bit like that (the Betty/Daniel relationship) but I'm planning to have lots of romance in mine, instead of hinting at it...
Please review :) Cookies for all.