So, when I promised I'd get rid of Wickham as soon as possible, that may not have been exactly true. Because I am a bad person? Or because Wickham is? Either way, please forgive me, and please keep reading and reviewing.
Darcy sent flowers to Emma. Sorry for making a scene at your party, he wrote on the card. He wanted to include Bess in some way too, but with the florist hovering over him, he couldn't think of the right words. Defeated, he handed back the pen. Probably better to apologise in person, anyway.
Emma called him the next day to thank him for the flowers, and to ask a favour. He returned her call in his lunch break. They were rehearsing full time now, and he was in almost every scene.
'Sure, I'd be happy to babysit Freya on Saturday night, but won't Bess be there?'
'She's going out. She doesn't normally work Saturdays, and she specifically asked for the night off'.
'Who's she going out with?' he asked, concerned.
'It's none of my business, and none of yours either, Will. She's a twenty-four-year-old woman who spends most of her time socialising with a seven-year-old. She's entitled to a night off.'
Will rubbed his face, easing the strain between his eyes. 'Of course she is. Just as long as she's not seeing Wickham'.
Emma laughed. 'I'm sure she's not, after you so spectacularly evicted him from my house'.
He sighed. 'I really am sorry about that, Emma. I should have handled it better'.
'It's not your fault. Wickham's a shit. He wrecks everything he touches'.
'Did Bess say anything about him?'
'No, she's more professional than any of us. She didn't mention it, and I didn't want to pry. I'm sure it's bad enough for her living in her employer's house'.
Darcy tipped his head back to lean against the wall. 'Okay, just so long as Wickham stays away'.
'Don't worry so much, Will. If he ever shows up here again, I'll make sure Bess knows exactly what he's capable of'.
And with that promise, Will had to be content.
Will arrived at Emma's punctually at seven on Saturday night, clutching a box of chocolates. After much agonising, he'd decided that flowers might send the wrong message, but chocolates could mean almost anything. He hoped these would say sorry.
Gordon let him in. He was dressed in a tux and bow tie, but his hair was mussed and his shirt coming untucked. 'They're all in the kitchen, but it's enter at your own risk' he told Will conspiratorially. 'You're welcome to hide out in my study instead, if you prefer'.
'What's wrong?' asked Will.
'Freya', announced Gordon, 'is in a mood'.
Freya was generally a delightful child, if somewhat stubborn. But on the odd occasion, particularly when she was hungry or tired, she'd decide the whole world was conspiring against her, and act accordingly.
Will groaned. 'So, I'm in for a delightful evening, then?'
Gordon chuckled. 'Better you than me!' He patted Will on the back and wandered off down the corridor. Will headed for the kitchen, pausing in the doorway.
Freya was seated at the table, clutching a teddy and looking mutinous. She was still in her day clothes, and her hair was every which way.
Bess was wiping down the table with a cloth, her back to the door. She was wearing skinny jeans and a slinky black top. Her hair was piled up in a messy knot, revealing the nape of her neck. Emma, wearing an evening gown and an apron, was finishing the dishes. No one paid his entrance any heed.
'I don't understand why you can't look after me tonight', Freya whined, rubbing her face in her teddy's fur. 'Everyone's leaving me. No one loves me'.
Bess looked up at Emma, who shrugged and held up her soapy hands.
'Freya', said Bess firmly, pausing in her work. 'I love you very much, and so do your mum and dad. But we are adults, and sometimes adults go out by themselves. Uncle Will is going to look after you tonight.'
Will coughed, and Freya looked up. 'Uncle Will!' she cried. Abandoning the teddy, she ran around the table and leapt into his arms. He just managed to catch her up without dropping the chocolates.
'You love me, don't you Uncle Will? You're the only person who does', she wheedled, nuzzling into his neck.
Someone get this child an Oscar, he thought.
He patted her back. 'I'm sure that's not true, poppet', he reasoned. 'We all care about you very much'.
'Bess doesn't', she retorted. 'She only looks after me because mummy and daddy pay her. Soon they'll stop giving her money, and she'll go away and never play with me again!'
'Freya Bingley!' Emma shouted, dropping a plate back into the water. 'How dare you talk that way! Go to your room and stay there until you're ready to apologise to Bess.'
Freya wrenched her way out of Will's arms. 'Then I'll stay there forever!' she cried, running through the doorway and slamming the door behind her.
They were all silent for a second, the sound of the slam echoing through a kitchen. Then Bess moved over to the sink to wash out the cloth. Emma dried her hands on her apron.
'Bess, I'm really sorry about that', she said, placing her hand on Bess' shoulder. 'Growing up around actors has given her a flair for the dramatic, but she was completely out of order'.
Bess shook her head. 'It's okay Emma, I know she's just having a bad day. Do you want me to go after her?'
Emma looked up at the clock. 'No, you'll be late for your dinner if you do that. I'll let her cool off for a few minutes, then go to her'.
'Thanks Emma, I appreciate it', Bess said, kissing her briefly on the cheek.
She made for the door, avoiding Darcy's concerned gaze. He thrust the chocolates in front of her as she passed by. 'I brought you these', he said awkwardly.
She glanced down at the chocolates, making no move to take them from Will.
'You know, to say sorry for last weekend, at the party …' he babbled.
She looked up at him then, her eyes hard. 'You needn't have gone to the trouble', she told him. 'I hadn't given it another thought. You'd better keep them to bribe Freya, if you want to have a chance of getting her to bed tonight. Now, if you'll excuse me'.
She pushed past him, accidentally brushing his arm. His whole body leapt to attention. He opened his mouth, searching for something to say, but nothing came out. She started to slam the door too, but at the last second she caught it and eased it closed behind her.
Will shook his head. 'What on earth is wrong with you all today?'
Emma reached for the kettle. 'Let's have a cuppa, and I'll fill you in'.
How British we are, he thought, sitting down with his steaming cup. We've had a lovely row, now for a cup of tea.
He wanted to ask why Bess was so mad at him, but thought he probably knew the answer to that one.
'What's up with Freya?' he asked instead.
Emma rolled her eyes. 'Apart from having inherited every one of my dramatic instincts?'
He chuckled. 'Yes, apart from that'.
Emma toyed with her mug. 'You know I've been away for most of the summer?'
He nodded.
'Well, today we explained to Freya that Bess is moving out in a couple of weeks to start university, and it did not go well'.
'She's not staying with you?'
'I offered, of course, but you know how reluctant she is to accept help. Besides, her scholarship comes with discounted student digs. I think she's pretty excited about living with people her own age'.
Will frowned. 'So Freya's right? She won't see Bess anymore?'
'Don't be ridiculous', Emma reprimanded. 'Bess will still babysit for us on weekends, and even if she didn't, I'd still invite her round as a family friend'.
'I don't understand. What's Freya's problem?'
Emma rubbed her temples. 'It turns out, she thought Gordon and I were going to adopt Bess, and she would live with us forever as Freya's big sister'.
Will spat out his tea. 'But that's ridiculous! You're only ten years older than Bess'.
'Nine years, thank you very much! And you're right, it is ridiculous, but Freya feels like everyone in her family is abandoning her.'
I'm not abandoning her, Will wanted to say, but didn't. That would be pathetic.
'It's a lot for a seven-year-old to deal with, coming on top of the accident and everything', Emma continued. 'Oh shit, look at the time, Gordon and I will be late'. She jumped up from the table and hastily untied her apron.
'Do you have any advice for me tonight?' Darcy asked.
'Bess is right, you're going to need the chocolates', Emma smirked. 'But seriously, don't be too hard on Freya. Hurt people aren't always reasonable. Just give her lots of hugs'.
'Good night, Uncle Will', said Freya, snuggling down into her bed.
'Good night, poppet' he said, kissing her forehead and tucking the duvet around her. He switched off her bedside lamp.
It had taken half a box of chocolates, as many tissues, two pairs of pyjamas, three trips to the loo and a hundred silly stories about the teddies to get to this point. He prayed she was finally ready to go to sleep. He was exhausted.
'I'm sorry I was rude to Bess', she said quietly in the darkness.
'That's okay, you can apologise to her in the morning'. He ruffled her curls and started to stand up. She caught his hand.
'I didn't mean it, really. I know she loves me. I'm just sad she's leaving.'
'Of course you are pumpkin. But she'll still come and visit you'.
'I know, she promised she would, and mummy did too'. A pause. 'Uncle Will….'
He didn't trust that wheedling tone of voice. What did she want now? Another glass of water? Ointment for a mysterious itch? A pony?
'What is it, Freya?' he asked warily.
'If you married Bess, then she'd be my Auntie Bess, and she wouldn't leave me'.
His heart clenched.
'Don't be ridiculous', he said shortly. 'She's ten years younger than me'.
'But she's very pretty, don't you think Uncle Will?'
'Yes, she's very pretty', he agreed reluctantly.
'And you like her?'
'Yes, I like her,' he replied. It was easier to admit in the dark. He wondered what exactly Freya had observed in his behaviour.
'Then you should marry her,' said Freya emphatically.
'It doesn't work like that poppet. Besides, she doesn't like me very much right now'.
'Why not, Uncle Will?'
He sighed. 'Because I was rude, and I did something stupid.'
'If you've been a poo head, you should say sorry, Uncle Will. You'll feel better afterwards'.
'Maybe I will', he said wryly, giving her one last kiss. 'Now go to sleep'.
He backed out of the room quickly, before she could ask anything else. He leant his forehead against the closed door. Was he seriously taking relationship advice from seven-year-olds now? He needed a drink.
Bess climbed the stairs to Emma's front door. Wickham followed.
'Thanks for a lovely evening', she lied, turning to face him.
Truthfully, it had been awful. She'd thought they would talk some more about Australia, or London, or anything really, but all George had wanted to discuss was his never-ending list of grievances against Darcy. Yes, Will was a dick, they were agreed on that point. But seriously, there had to be some other topic of conversation.
George had enumerated all the ways he'd been wronged through two courses, dessert, and coffee. The longer the list grew, the less believable Bess found it. Surely no-one could be such an ogre as all that. One man would need several lifetimes to pursue all the vengeance Darcy had apparently pursued against Wickham.
George had signalled the waiter for the bill, then reached into his pocket for his wallet. His surprised expression when it wasn't there had been comically overdone.
'I'm so sorry, Bess, I must have left my wallet at home. Can I treat you next time?' He'd given her his most charming smile.
Seriously? He thinks there's going to be a next time? 'Don't worry about it, I'll get it'. Anything to get this dumpster fire of a date over and done with.
She'd blanched a little when she saw the total of the bill. Had he ordered all the most expensive items on the menu? Thank goodness Emma paid her so generously. She'd counted out a handful of notes and stuffed them quickly into the little plastic folder on the table.
Wickham had insisted on seeing her home on the tube 'for her safety'. It seemed he still had his Oyster card, even though he'd somehow managed to leave the house without his wallet.
And now he was backing her against Emma's front door, going in for the good night kiss.
No way, mate, she thought, keeping her head down and rummaging in her bag for her door key.
She turned her head to the side as he leant in, so that he connected with her cheek instead. Undeterred, he caught her chin, not gently, and turned her head so that he could kiss her mouth instead. He pushed his tongue between her closed lips, gripping her neck tightly with his other hand.
What the fuck? thought Bess. She'd worked out by now that Wickham was a tool, but she hadn't imagined he would try to molest her on a public street. She gave up the hunt for her key and pushed against his chest with one hand, trying to get his slobbering face away from hers. With her other hand, she groped behind her for the doorbell, praying that Gordon and Emma were home.