Thanks everyone for your comments! It seems many of you find Wickham (or Wicked, as one reviewer called him) as tedious and annoying as I do. Don't worry, I won't spend more time on him than I have to. I just need him to get Darcy all worked up and then he can crawl back to where he came from …


Darcy was running late for the party. Horribly late.

The shoot had run a full week over, thanks to the damned weather. If he never saw the inside of a dripping, mossy Romanian forest again, it would be too soon.

He'd only landed at lunch time, and barely made it to the first read-through for his new play. He had signed on to play Hamlet in a modern adaptation at the Old Vic and was wondering if he'd bitten off more than he could chew.

Like everyone else, he'd studied Hamlet at university, and thought he knew the play well. This adaptation, however, moved the setting from medieval Denmark to the City, with Hamlet as a newly appointed bank executive who alienates or betrays everyone who cares for him, has a complete breakdown in the fourth act, is admitted to a psych facility and takes his own life after killing several others.

All the death and destruction were completely in keeping with Shakespeare's play, but he hadn't grasped quite how intense it would be until the read-through. He had to disembowel himself emotionally, disintegrate mentally, and remember vast swathes of Shakespearean English. He wasn't a bad actor, but love, joy, shame, jealously, existential dread, madness, homicidal anger and suicidal despair were a lot to get through in three hours. It had gone surprisingly well for a first run through, and the supporting cast were seasoned professionals, but he was drained by the time they were done.

He longed for a shower and a nap, but wasn't going to make the mistake of blowing off the rest of the cast on the very first day of rehearsals. He survived dinner and a beer at the pub with reasonable grace, before excusing himself to go home and change.

Now he was driving round and round Notting Hill in the rain, swearing and looking for a non-existent park. Why on earth he had thought he would find one on a Saturday night, he didn't know. He should have taken a taxi.

Just as he was going to give up, drive back home and catch a cab, a parked Beemer put on its lights and pulled out in front of him. Giving silent thanks to the parking gods, he eased his Aston Martin into the vacant spot.

He was a few blocks from Emma's house. He set off in the rain, clutching a bottle of Penfolds Grange. He was soaking by the time he reached Emma's front door, but at least the weather seemed to have deterred any paparazzi from hanging around.

The hired security guy on the door recognised him and let him in straight away. A wall of noise assaulted his ears. He left his coat with the attendant in the front hall, then plunged into the crowd. Nodding to a few familiar faces, he kept moving, looking for Emma. He wanted to give her the wine and congratulate her on wrapping her shoot. And maybe, ask if Bess was there.

He couldn't find Emma, but after a few minutes the crowd parted a little and he spied Bess seated on the far side of the lounge room. She looked older, with her hair waved and her make up done. Her emerald green dress brought out the colour of her eyes, and the plunging neckline flattered her decolletage. A little thrill went through Will at the sight of her. He shook his head to dispel it, spraying water from his hair like a shaggy dog.

He started to cross the room. He would casually say hello and ask her where Emma was. Perhaps tell her she looked beautiful, as well. He was half way there before he noticed the man talking to her. George Wickham. All the breath left his body at once, and he felt a little light headed, before the blood rushed back to his face. What the fuck was he doing here? In Emma's house? Sitting way too close to Bess, his arm draped casually around the back of the bench?

His first instinct was to grab Wickham and drag him away, but sanity prevailed at the last moment. The couple were so focused on their conversation they didn't notice Darcy as he pivoted abruptly and headed for the kitchen, more determined than ever to find Emma, and answers.


'And he did all those terrible things to you just because you're Australian?', Bess asked, a little incredulously. She had good reason to know that Darcy didn't like Aussies, but really, it sounded so petty.

'That was only part of it', said Wickham. 'It was a big break for both of us, his first leading role and my first big supporting part. It was natural that we would be rivals'.

Bess frowned. 'Why would he undermine you at every turn, if he had the bigger part?'

George gave a rueful shrug. 'It's a cutthroat business. He thought I had the potential to be the bigger star, so he took the precaution of eliminating the competition'.

Bess examined his face carefully. It all sounded so unlikely, but his look and tone were sincere. 'He really had you thrown off the set, for no reason?'

'Not exactly. You see, there was this girl….'

Bess raised her eyebrows, encouraging him to continue.

He looked around and then edged closer, lowering his voice. His thigh was touching hers. 'She was a junior makeup artist, just starting out. Shy, but sweet, and very pretty. A bit like you.'

Bess blushed and shook her head. She wasn't shy, or sweet, and not that pretty either.

'You'd think she would have been below Darcy's notice', he continued, 'but he's always wanted anything I had. His attentions made her uncomfortable, but she didn't say anything because he was the star of the film. One day I was comforting her in the make up trailer, and Darcy came in and found her in my arms. He went straight to the director and told him it was him or me. One of us had to go'.

'And they picked you?' asked Bess, shocked.

'The production company didn't like it, but in the end they agreed. If Darcy walked, they would have had to re-shoot almost every scene. Far easier to get rid of me and consign my scenes to the cutting room floor'. George shrugged. 'No-one knew why I'd been sacked, but there's always rumours in this industry. People have been reluctant to hire me ever since, lest they get on the wrong side of the all-powerful Will Darcy'.


'Emma, thank God!' Darcy finally ran her to earth in the kitchen.

'Will, you made it!' she exclaimed, leaning in for a kiss on the cheek. 'And you're all wet.'

'Never mind that', he said, shoving the wine at her distractedly. 'He's here'.

'Who's here?' she asked, setting the bottle carefully on the counter.

'George Wickham! He's cuddling up to Bess, no doubt spinning her all sorts of lies. You didn't invite him, did you?

Will's voice rose, and some other guests turned to look at them. Film people were notorious gossips. Emma took Will's damp arm and drew him into the pantry.

'Calm down Will, of course I didn't invite him. He must have come as a plus one. Shall I get security to escort him out?'

'Don't bother, I'll do it myself. You need to get Bess alone and explain to her what a dangerous liar he is'.

Emma examined him closely. His wet hair was plastered to his forehead, he was breathing fast and his cheeks were flushed.

'Will, calm down and think for a minute. I can't do that'.

'Why not?' he cried. 'He'll hurt her, you know he will. It's what he does'.

'I know' said Emma, squeezing his arm comfortingly. 'If I thought she was in any danger, I would interfere, and bugger the consequences. But she's not in the business. They have no reason to ever cross paths again'.

'I don't understand', Will whined, running a hand through his hair. 'Why won't you warn her?'

'I had enough trouble convincing her to come to this party at all, when she doesn't know anyone here. It's bad enough that you're going to throw out the first person she's met. If I follow up with a lecture about staying away from bad boys, she'll think she's done something wrong. I'm her employer Will, not her mother'.

Will stared at her, uncomprehendingly. 'Well, if you won't do something, I will'. He flung out of the pantry and made for the lounge room.


'I knew he was a bit of a bastard, but I had no idea he'd do something as bad as that', said Bess, holding one hand to her chest.

Will cleared his throat loudly. The couple looked up. Bess started guiltily and made to move away from Wickham. George smiled lazily and draped his arm over Bess' shoulders, pulling her back against his side.

'Ah Darcy, how delightful to see you. We were just talking about you,' Wickham drawled.

'I'm sure you were', Darcy ground out. The sight of George's hand on Bess' bare shoulder made him want to commit violence. She was pale and wouldn't look up at him. Was Wickham hurting her?

He took a hard pull on his temper. He had to get George away from her now, without making a scene. Wickham loved a scene.

'If you'll excuse us,' he said, nodding stiffly to Bess, 'George and I need to have a talk'.

'Oh Darcy', George laughed. 'You never did have any manners, did you? If you want to say anything to me, you can say it in front of my charming companion'. He stroked his fingertips lightly down her arm.

'Get your hands off her now,' Darcy bit off. 'This is her workplace. You can't come in here and make up to her like that'.

Bess brushed Wickham's hand away and stood quickly. Her eyes flashed fire. 'Thank you, Mr Darcy, for reminding me of my place. I'd hate to be encroaching. I'll go up now and check on Freya'.

She turned and ran up the stairs, holding the silk skirts of her dress in front of her so as not to trip. He caught a glimpse of strappy high heels and slim, tanned ankles.

'No wait, Bess, I didn't mean it like that…'

He reached out his hand, but she ignored him and kept going.

A slow clap sounded behind him. 'Oh, well done Darcy, well done. You really know how to charm the ladies, don't you?'

Snarling, Will turned back to Wickham and grabbed him by his collar, yanking him up off the bench. He marched the smaller man through the silenced crowd and into the foyer. Emma must have alerted the bouncer, because he was already holding the front door open.

'Go now, or I won't be responsible for my actions', Darcy growled, shoving him through the doorway.

Wickham shook himself free of Darcy's grip and bowed mockingly. 'Don't worry, I was just leaving. My work here is done'.