Chapter 10

January's early thaw fooled no one in New York. Weeks and months of cold and dreariness were still to come. In the days after the group's museum outing, time crept by slowly for both William Darcy and Elizabeth Bennet. Both were consumed by work, social obligations and tamping down thoughts of each other.

By Wednesday, when Will boarded a flight for Zurich, he was exhausted. He looked forward to shutting down for at least a few hours. Since Monday he had been sitting in meetings and lunches, and making phone calls trying to smooth over hard feelings created by the faltering Delteon deal. The board was restless and the chairman, Ken Whitley, was furious. He'd sent Robin to Chile to meet with copper mine executives.

Will just wanted to sit on the plane and close his eyes for a few hours with a blank mind. He knew he was asking the impossible. There was always one more thing to think about, and he was tired of making decisions and seeking input and listening to violently opposing viewpoints. One of the high points of the last two days had been walking into the kitchen and finding whatever meal Mrs. R had chosen to prepare. No choices, no decisions and always delicious.

Now he had a seven-hour flight with no one he had to listen or answer to. He pushed his seat back, plugged in his ear buds, scrolled down his iPod's display screen, and clicked on one of the "FlyBro" playlists Georgie had made him a few months ago. Will drew down his eyeshade as the first notes of Nick Drake's "Pink Moon" played. His thoughts drifted to his sister.

She was back in school, climbing the stairs to classes on the third floor, and seemingly back to normal. No, he thought, better than normal. She seemed happier, more social, more giggly. He'd like to think it wasn't just because she was catching senioritis and felt carefree until Decision Day. He'd like to think she was just happy to be spending so much time with girlfriends.

At least it wasn't some boy. He'd never been one to monitor his sister's online interactions; he knew she did Facebook and Instagram and all those other things he paid little attention to. But a boy—whether in the flesh or online—worried him, so he'd checked with Mrs. Reynolds last night after dinner.

"William, she is almost 18. Stop fighting the inevitable and be prepared." Mrs. Reynolds had shaken her head and given him a pleading look. "And stop fighting with yourself. Go find yourself a beautiful young lady worthy of you."

Georgie was voicing some similar concerns. They'd never talked about the press coverage he'd received the previous year when Judith had dumped him so publicly. Some topics were off limits between a teenage girl and her grown brother. He'd tried not to think himself cowardly for letting Mrs. R, who knew early on that he didn't have strong feelings for Judith, answer his sister's questions.

In some not-so-subtle ways, Georgie had started asking him about his social life. She'd noticed that Charles was less available for dinner or Game Night since he had met Jane, and Georgie appeared worried that once she left for college, her brother would be even more alone. She'd run down a long list of possible girlfriends for him, laughingly insisting that Charlotte and Willa could both be "turned straight" by his charms and his chauffeured BMW. She sighed in bewilderment that Jane's two sisters could possibly be involved with the Lucas brothers. Mary was quite opinionated, but Georgie observed that Robert seemed to enjoy debating Mary as much as Mary enjoyed yanking his chain. The spark was there but hadn't ignited, Georgie insisted. On the other hand, she was confident Elizabeth would never look at John as anything but a boring, overbearing friend with a good heart.

"She's too smart for him. But too nice to ignore him," she'd sighed. "It's an ugly trap. He's like flypaper. None of the guys a woman might want to know can get past him."

Will had raised his eyebrows and stared at his little sister.

"I read an article about it in Cosmo," she'd insisted.

"Indeed." He silently agreed with her. Elizabeth was obviously way too good for the chatterbox and seemed pretty exasperated by his attention.

Will had spent a lot of time over the past few days mulling over Saturday's outing, and remembering how Elizabeth wielded her spoon, mingling their desserts and savoring them. She'd licked the spoon clean. Just thinking about it could put his entire body in flames. Everything about her was so real, so vibrant. Not like Judith or any other woman he'd known.

While what he knew about Elizabeth overwhelmed his senses, what he didn't know about her frightened him. He was thinking about her far more than was healthy; he had too much to deal with at work, and his life wasn't simple. As much as he could admit he liked Elizabeth Bennet, he was realizing he liked her far more than was safe. He needed to be careful with his personal life; embarrassing headlines led to board room conjecture about his business sense and maturity. Any woman he spent time with would be under a microscope after the Judith debacle, and the flurry of attention Elizabeth already had received had not been appreciated.

Will had sworn not to ever Google a friend; knowing what people would read if they Googled him had put him off ever prying. And it was even more wrong to look into Elizabeth's life; he respected her too much. But finally, his curiosity overwhelming him late Monday night, he had decided to view it as he would a business deal. He wouldn't invest money without learning all he could about a company; perhaps it was time to learn more about Elizabeth Bennet.

There wasn't much at first glance. And without knowing her middle name to narrow the search, he'd found himself wading through more Elizabeth Bennets (and Elizabeth Bennetts) than he'd counted on. He'd learned many things, big and small. She'd played lacrosse in high school and had won an academic scholarship to Penn. She ran 5Ks in respectable times. She volunteered at the Special Olympics. She'd worked at Anchor & Freres for a year in their MBA training program but left abruptly.

Hmm, he'd thought. Elizabeth had been working under Jack Bertram and Brian Denny. Both were well-known for their restructuring deals in the minerals industry, but both had been fired by the firm and indicted after a pension rollover deal they had brokered had raised a number of regulatory eyebrows. He didn't recall the exact details, but Darcy remembered that Bertram and Denny had headed a cover-up for a client and at least one of them was in prison.

And Elizabeth had left the firm. It was unclear whether she had been fired or implicated in the pension scheme.

Now, two days later and 30,000 feet over the Atlantic, Will still couldn't stop thinking about what he'd read. He couldn't believe her guilty of anything. She hates bankers. Did she know what these guys were doing? Did the bank fire her? Or did she leave by choice? What happened? Did he dare ask her? When would he see her again anyway? He sighed and put off the questions. He'd figure it out when he got home.

But when he arrived back in New York six days later, he was fighting more than the cold he'd caught in London. He was battling an insurrection on his board. And whatever Elizabeth might have done or not done at Anchor & Freres—Darcy had neither the time nor the inclination to find out. He couldn't take a chance on associating with Elizabeth Bennet.

Charlotte Lucas had always recognized the imbalance of power in her relationship with her older brother. While she had never had problems fitting in as the alternative emo girl in school, John had been the awkward boy who liked showing off his juggling skills. She'd charmed her way to better grades and great college recommendation letters through well-honed conversational skills and access to vintage bootleg vinyl and concert tickets. John had simply worked very hard and diligently pestered his teachers about his application deadlines.

Yet now they proved to be each other's valuable counterweight. Her people skills and artistic temperament made up for John's social weaknesses, his skill with numbers and business acumen compensated for Charlotte's less-studiously applied knowledge. While handsome and kind, John's overbearing manner and nonstop chattering required—in the stingingly well-meant words of their mother—"balance." Someday John might find a wife or business partner or life coach to curb his tendencies, but until then, Charlotte was content to suffer her brother's irritating habits to help run his gallery. She liked earning a solid paycheck and having solid healthcare insurance in a job that left her time for other passions, like music and blogging.

Charlotte had known for years that John's behavior grated on Elizabeth. And when her best friend called to set up drinks, dinner or coffee as soon as possible, she knew the issue had come to a head.

But between overseeing the electrical re-wiring at the newly repainted gallery and helping John with the installation of a new show by running interference and schmoozing with the artist and her fans, Charlotte was busy. Overwhelmingly busy. Willa was lonely and the ferrets missed her. So she put off Lizzy until Monday evening of the following week.

By the time that Monday evening rolled around, it had been a terrible day for Elizabeth. She was in a bad, bad mood. She went to the gym after work but found spinning class monotonous. She walked out and discovered a much more satisfying outlet in kickboxing. Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!

She was annoyed at everyone. John had finally creeped her out. Charlotte didn't have time to spend with her. Jane was antsy about Charles' impending departure and already was bemoaning a Valentine's Day without him. Lydia wouldn't stop asking her about her lunch date with "Mr. Hottie."

Right. Mr. Hottie. After the museum visit, Sweater Boy had become Mr. Grumpy, and she didn't think it likely she'd run into him again. At least not until Charles was back from Down Under. And he hadn't even left yet….

And that other Lucas, her boss, really had her steaming. Thwack! Thwack! Thwack! Phil had missed the deadline on crucial paperwork and as a result, it was unlikely any city money would be forthcoming to repair Haven this year. It was equally unlikely that the building would be granted status as a historical landmark. Such a status was a mixed blessing—it would save the building and allow restoration and renovations, but no expansion. She'd so hoped to grow the outpatient services clinic she helped run and open an inpatient, round-the-clock drug and counseling center. So many of the kids she and her colleagues saw needed longer-term help, close to home but living onsite as a group. As long as Haven's footprint remained as confined as it was, there was little hope of it offering additional psychiatric services.

Lucases. She was annoyed with all of them. Most of them. Thwack!

An hour later, when Elizabeth and Charlotte finally sat down for drinks at their favorite Village bar, the benefits of hitting and kicking rubber dummies had taken effect. Elizabeth felt almost zen-like. Calmly annoyed, she thought.

"Seriously, Char? John said you guys were closed for renovations but he said it so ominously, I was worried things were bad. Saleswise." Elizabeth peered at her friend and reached for another tortilla chip. "I guess I should be happy for you, for everyone. If people are buying art, that means the economy is roaring back, right?"

"Sure, for those who've got the greenbacks to troll galleries for abstract paper sculptures their cats will pee on."

"Tsk-tsk. You don't believe in your artists, Charlotte."

"Not much…I believe in the business though." Charlotte leaned back and sipped her mojito. "It's just a matter of defining that to John. He picks artists who sell well, who get good reviews."

"But you do everything else?"

Charlotte nodded. "John has his gifts, Liz. And his share of obtuseness." She looked around the nearly empty bar and wrinkled her nose. "Was he completely annoying you last weekend?"

Elizabeth nodded. "He kind of monopolized every conversation. I was hoping he might talk to Katie about what happened in Spain during his gap year and talk her out of her obsession for one."

Charlotte ran her hand through her spiky blonde hair. "Lizzy, you know John would never share the story of `the horny goat' in mixed company. Don't Darcys have delicate sensibilities?"

"Georgie would deny it and her brother would be covering her ears." Elizabeth glanced at her friend. "I wanted to talk with Georgie a little more."

"And her brother? You wanted to talk to him too?"

Elizabeth narrowed her eyes at Charlotte's smirk. "A bit…."

"It isn't John you wanted to talk to me about, is it? It's about the shoe, right? Why didn't you tell me you had lunch with William Darcy?"

"Excuse me?!" gasped Elizabeth. "What—how do you know about that?"

Charlotte tilted her head and peered seriously at Elizabeth. "The item on Page Six last week? "Darcy Plays Prince Charming?""

Getting no response, Charlotte continued. "You're his Cinderella? Darcy came to Haven with a red stiletto? What's up with that?"

Elizabeth sat back in her seat. This explained the winks from Phil Lucas, the disapproving glances from Mary King, and the leers from Lydia, as well as the two voice mails from the Post that she'd deleted without listening to. But it didn't explain how the newspaper found out.

She recounted for Charlotte the series of events which had taken her shoe from Charles' apartment to Darcy's car and then to her via a lunchtime delivery. Abruptly, she asked Charlotte if the paper had run a photo. Reassured the story had run only a few lines long, she shook her head. "How did they find out? I didn't tell anyone." Did he?

"He took you home on New Year's Eve?" Charlotte asked. "And he came to Haven and brought you your shoe? What are you not seeing?"

I'm seeing a guy who annoys me. He's hot, he's cold. He looks at me like I'm crazy for giving up the riches of Wall Street so I can work at a decrepit hospital. And I can't figure out his feelings, so how can I figure out mine?

"Char, he's extremely well-bred and polite. He's best friends with my sister's boyfriend."

"Did you really not see how he looked at you at Serendipity?"

"Well, I was a little bit busy listening to your brother's woes," Elizabeth said. "Who knew a coffee press could yield so many fascinating conversational tidbits?" She rolled her eyes. "I'm sorry, he means well. But I feel like I missed half of what went on that day."

Charlotte grimaced and scooped up some guacamole. "I'll talk to him. Willa nearly has him convinced to join an online dating site."

"Worked for you two," Elizabeth commented. "Cute New Year's card, by the way. How did you get the ferrets to hold still in those costumes?"

Charlotte looked amused. "Feed `em a heavy meal and they're like sloths. Sid, especially. Nancy's just a wiggler."

Ferret inquisition over, Elizabeth forged ahead. "Mary said something about some woman accosting Will at the restaurant?" She took a swig of her margarita and stared expectantly across the table.

"Oh. That. It was weird." Charlotte filled Elizabeth in on the woman who seemed to be pouncing on a very uncomfortable Will. "Mary said the woman was staring at him while he ate. She saw her jump up when Will went to the restroom, and Mary decided to follow her. She was a little worried for him."

Incredulous, Elizabeth cried, "William Darcy? My little sister went off to protect the great and powerful William Darcy from some blonde bimbo attack?"

"She wasn't far from wrong, Lizzy. And Mary is far from your `little' sister. That girl is ready for a triathlon." Charlotte smirked. "She and Robert certainly have some sparks, don't they?"

Elizabeth nodded. "I've never seen her look at anyone the way she looks at your brother. Quite a meeting of the minds."

Charlotte glanced at her buzzing phone. Willa was asking when she should put the barley-eggplant-tomato casserole in the oven. She tapped a few keys and looked up.

"Lizzy, the man gets his name in the paper. Business pages, gossip pages, the good, the bad and the ugly. It's pretty amazing he can lead a normal enough life to go to the planetarium with little old regular people like us," she said evenly. "And his sister is very nice."

Elizabeth nodded. "Well. So is my sister. And so is John's sister," she added, smiling. She turned serious. "Was the blonde a reporter?" Did she see me?

"I don't know. She gave him a card, but he sure didn't want to take it."

Charlotte phone buzzed again. "Lizzy—."

"I know, I know. You've got to get home to the wifey."

As she left, Elizabeth gave Char a hug and asked her to help keep Jane busy and distracted. "Charles is leaving tomorrow for a couple of weeks in Australia. It will be so gloomy at our place, Char. I can only take so many romantic comedies and you know I hate "Steel Magnolias.""

"Oh poor Lizzy. You never did grow any sentimental bones, did you?"

As she walked the few blocks to her apartment, Elizabeth pondered how she'd landed in the papers, again. Some Cinderella. Some Prince Charming. She stopped walking when realization dawned. Mr. Hottie? That gossipy wastrel of a file clerk. She was going to kill Lydia.

Her attitude was no better the next day. Her neck hurt all morning after she spent 10 minutes craning it over her seatmate's shoulder to read the newspaper story headlined: "Darcy Deal With Copper Mine Blows Up."

Figures.

Winded and panting, Darcy sat on the granite embankment overlooking Iphigene's Walk. He'd hoped a run through Central Park would finally knock the last vestiges of this cold out of his chest. Instead, he felt even more miserable. He'd been back in New York for a week, sick and now hoarse from the endless arguments he'd been waging in the boardroom and in his office. He'd known the Delteon deal was a little too slick from the beginning and he'd been proven right. Now he and Robin were thrust into the middle of its meltdown, pitting one of Pemberley Fund's most important, most lucrative accounts against a conglomerate that felt its workers' interests and its environmental concerns were betrayed by the deal. He was beset by a furious longtime client and angry investors, as well as infighting among veteran board members who felt the lucrative payout of the deal outweighed any other concerns.

Darcy had tried to assuage the chairman's anger over dinner last night. He'd talked to Ken Whitley about a handful of alternative energy companies he'd been looking at, and he'd hoped to interest him into helping steer Delteon toward an investment in solar and wind energy. Whitley would not hear of it. He wanted the Chilean copper mine deal to work. Or else.

Ken had leaned toward him and said quietly, "Watch your step, William. Your father's name is on this bank. Your name is not. Your name shows up in the paper, playing Prince Charming to some girl's Cinderella. What the hell are you doing?" He'd stood up and tossed his napkin on the chair.

"Do your job and fix this deal."

Stunned and confused by Ken's parting words, Darcy had headed straight home to look up the story. Do I Google myself? He'd felt dirty just clicking onto the Post's website.

"Is William Darcy, last year's loser in love, playing footsie to get back his mojo as Prince Charming? Seems the man can't stay away from
his Cinderella, Liz Bennet. Sources spotted him at Haven Hospital handing her a sexy red stiletto out of a paper bag last week. Not clear if it fit,
but we hear that high heel generated some lunchtime heat between the couple. Who knew a Manolo Blahnik knockoff could rev up our listless lover boy?"

Five sentences. Five sentences that made him look like a fool, traipsing around Manhattan with a red high-heel. How the hell did they get this? Why does anyone care? Shit.

He'd tucked Elizabeth Bennet into a little compartment of his brain, but it seemed she was going to keep popping into his life, whether or not either of them wanted it. He pulled out his phone and re-read an old text from Charles. He hadn't understood it at the time and hadn't had time to follow up with his friend, who was manic in preparing for his trip. Cinderella? What's up?

Nothing Charles, he'd replied. Go play with the dingoes.

Assuming Elizabeth had told her sister about the shoe, and Jane had told Charles, he'd thought little of the message at the time. Idiot.

Will stared at the phone, trying to remember if Charles was leaving today. He pushed his number on speed dial and waited. As it rang, he stared at a food vendor selling coffee to a guy holding a long-lensed camera. He yanked down his cap and pulled up his collar and ducked his head to the right, watching the footpath filled with pedestrians and a few runners who, like him, thrived in the cold, crisp air. One figure, her green eyes sparkling in the sunlight, caught his attention. Elizabeth. She was running toward him. Charles' voice-mail message filled Darcy's ear but he was intent on watching Elizabeth. She slowed down, jogging in place, and looked up at him. He stared down at her, then looked away, bent his head and spoke quietly into the phone. "Hey Charles. Have a great trip. Be careful of the poisonous spiders. Give me a call when you can."

He clicked off on his phone and looked up. She was gone. He glanced back at the food cart. The photographer was sipping his coffee and walking down the same footpath Elizabeth was on. Darcy got up, walked down the rocks and jogged in the opposite direction.

So…is Darcy taking the road less traveled? Or just following the one all Darcys must traverse on the way to Hunsford? More on Tuesday!

Notes

Pink Moon by Nick Drake You might remember it from a Volkswagen commercial.

Iphigene's Walk, on the northeast edge of the Ramble, commemorates Iphigene Ochs Sulzberger, the daughter of Adolph Ochs, the publisher of the New York Times. Sulzberger led preservation efforts at the Park and used her family's influence to fight any plan that could deprive the public of its serene natural settings. She was president of the Central Park Association from 1934-50. You can read all about the park and its visionary creators, Frederick Law Olmsted and Calvert Vaux, here.