"What will happen next week?" Lizzy frowned as soon as the words left her mouth. Never had she heard her own voice sound so uncertain, so insecure.
"What do you mean, love?"
"Well, I'll be going back to New York, and…"
William smiled. "Do you think there is anything in this world – and I mean anything – that could possibly keep me away from you?"
"Well, considering that even your Aunt Catherine did not succeed – I would guess 'no'?"
He laughed, and hugged her tighter. Lizzy smiled. Why had she never noticed before that his laughter was the most beautiful, radiant sound?
Darcy kissed her forehead softly, and then assumed a more serious tone:
"I really mean it, Lizzy. I would not part with you for anything. Of course, you must go back to New York. And of course I cannot come with you. Not yet. But I've been thinking… I could move the headquarters to the city."
Lizzy gasped. "Will, no! You can't move your entire company on account of me." She was flattered, of course, by the way he was willing to do anything for her. But at the same time, she thought of how large Pemberley had become, and really how monumental such a move would be. This reminder of Fitzwilliam Darcy's wealth and importance – all of which he would instantaneously put at her disposal – chilled her. It reminded her of the way she felt that night in Cancun, when he came back to her and casually mentioned having fired reporters at some of the most prominent publications in the nation. And while she felt flattered and powerful, this man's grandeur made her feel simultaneously meager and insignificant.
Darcy stroked her cheek. "It's not such a big deal, sweetheart. Besides, Pemberley has undergone quite a change recently. From a privately-held local business it has suddenly transformed into a national corporation. There are many more facets to the business now; and many more people I must interact with as the CEO. It might even make sense to move the headquarters to a place where it would not be so isolated," he mused thoughtfully.
"Are you sure?" Lizzy questioned uncertainly. "If you really think that that's what's best for the business – then sure, do as you please. But don't move Pemberley on account of me."
"Frankly, I'm not sure what's best for Pemberley on that score. But I do know that I cannot stay away from you, darling." And there was a dazzling glimmer in his eyes as he leaned in to kiss her.
"William, stop it! I am trying to have a serious conversation," Lizzy chastised him sternly, but the corners of her lips betrayed the laugh she was trying to suppress.
"Well, seriously, I think any significant business transition would need to be gradual. Perhaps this would be best: I will keep Pemberley in Meryton for now, but I will buy us a nice apartment in the Upper East Side, and will live there with you. I'll come back and check in on my Meryton employees once every week or two. I've been spending most of my time traveling to business meetings and press conferences anyway; there is hardly any reason for me to continue to reside in Meryton. I will just need to find a competent COO to look after the internal operations here while I'm gone."
Lizzy sighed. "You make everything seem to easy…"
"Is that a problem, my dear?"
"No, not at all." But she did not sound convinced.
"What is it?" He pressed.
"It's just… nothing."
He held her face tenderly but firmly in his hands, and pierced her eyes with his. "Tell me."
"Well, it's just that… we're so different. The way you seem to be in change of everything in the world just makes me… it makes me feel weak. Intimidated is perhaps a better word. I've never felt that way before, and I don't like it. I'm used to being the stronger one in a relationship. So it takes some getting used, I suppose, to date a billionaire who has everything at his disposal…"
He was silent for a few moments. Then spoke very earnestly: "But that's not true, is it, Lizzy? That you're weak or that you are not in charge. Because you are, and you know it – you must. Because I am certainly not in charge of everything in the world – there is at least one thing that controls me fully. You. Everything I have is yours, and everything I do is for you. A word from you, Lizzy, and I will do as you please. Your wish is my command." He saw her lips curl into a smile at his expression, and added: "And I don't mean that as a joke."
"I know," She breathed out, and pressed her head against his shoulder. All her insecurities had been magically lifted with his assurance. She felt serene and peaceful. She felt happy. Right there, in his protective embrace – she felt at home.
When she left his house an hour later, after a few too many parting kisses and an agreement to see each other the following day for a home-cooked dinner at his place, Lizzy could not stop smiling. That silly grin did not leave her face even when she came home to be pestered by Mrs. Bennet and teased by Lydia. Funny enough, Liz simply didn't care. She merely sighed contentedly, and remarked in her mind that she had never been so happy before.
Her present state of unadulterated happiness was fully matched by her boyfriend. He missed her as soon as she had left, and pined for her presence. But it was not the frustrating, desperate pining of a few weeks before. Even when she was out of his sight, he was still content in the knowledge that she was his now, and forever. Of that, he would make sure. He would never let her get out of his grasp now that he finally had her. What's more, he had a tingly feeling that she did not want to ever be away from him – that she was well on her way to returning his love.
It was in this pleasant mood that Mrs. Reynolds found him, when she came to announce the arrival of a certain Gregory Samberg. She was a little perplexed to be honest. 'What could this young boy whom I've never seen before want with Mr. Darcy?'
If Darcy was equally surprised, he did not let it show.
"Please show him in."
He spent the few moments before Greg came into his study feeling irritated at having his sweet thoughts of Lizzy so unceremoniously disturbed.
"Mr. Darcy," the boy greeted uncertainly, yet with a certain air of stateliness.
"Yes, Mr. Samberg, how may I help you?"
Greg let out a dark chuckle. "I was more under the impression that I would help you,Mr. Darcy."
Darcy furrowed his brows in confusion. He was beginning to feel irritated with the boy, but kept his voice to a tone of calm indifference. "I am not sure I understand you, sir."
"I came to speak to you about Miss Bennet," Greg cut straight to the chase. "I understand she is your girlfriend now?"
Darcy frowned. "If you mean Miss Elizabeth Bennet, then you are correct." He was struggling now to keep his voice calm. "I do not see, however, how that should concern you."
Again, Greg laughed bitterly. "Because you remember, I am sure, that until three days ago she was my girlfriend."
"So?" Darcy was now visibly impatient.
"Oh, nothing at all, sir. I was only wondering whether you were as fully aware of things as you appear to be. Have you ever wondered how our break-up occurred? Or did Elizabeth tell you all about how we snuggled and made out before she asked me to leave her alone so she can pursue you instead?"
The look of mixed incredulity, terror, and pain on Darcy's face was exactly what Greg had expected and hoped for.
Gregory Samberg had never been a mean-spirited person, and his present maliciousness surprised even himself. But he could not help it. He was experiencing an intensity of feelings he had never known before. Losing Lizzy had been more than painful: nearly heart-breaking. But somehow, his love for Lizzy was nowhere nearly as strong as his hatred for Mr. Darcy. That man who represented and embodied everything Greg feared and despised: the wealthy upper class that controlled and enslaved the rest of humanity. The rich, handsome man who could just come up and steal anyone's girlfriend whenever he pleased.
Driven by this loathing, Greg continued in a tone that stabbed with his drawling nonchalance:
"She seemed like she really missed me, you know – the vigor with which her little tongue welcomed mine, the way her hands roamed on my shoulders, my chest. I suppose she hasn't had any in quite some time. Not surprising, really – she is probably only dating you for your wealth. Why would she sleep with you?"
"Enough!" Darcy roared as soon as she regained his composure. "I do not appreciate the way in which you have come into my home only to speak about my girlfriend in such a disrespectful way. I have no more patience for your lies, Mr. Samberg."
But Greg sensed that he had struck a nerve. He continued calculatedly:
"Very well, sir, I will cease. But before I leave, let me point out one thing. If Lizzy truly loves you and all I say is false, then how come she has avoided having sex with you, when she has had no such squabbles with me before her trip to Cancun?"
Against his better judgment, the words left Darcy's mouth before he could stop them: "She has slept with you?"
Greg sniggered. "Of course."
Darcy drew a few deep lungfuls of air in an attempt to steady his breathing. "You have said quite enough, sir. I do not believe a word you say, and ask you to kindly leave my house at once." The steel iciness of his tone brooked no opposition.
"Of course, Mr. Darcy. I only wished you to be informed. After all, it would be a real pity if you got too involved only to discover that the woman you adore cares nothing for you at all, except perhaps a little for your wealth."
And with that, Greg left at once, but not before remarking on the paleness of his host's face that belied Darcy's claim of not believing Greg's words. If nothing else, a seed of doubt had been planted in Darcy's mind. Greg's purpose had been achieved.
Fitzwilliam let out a heavy sigh and dropped into his armchair. He felt suddenly exhausted.
He did not know whether he really believed Greg's words. He wished with all his being most urgently not to believe them. But a part of him knew that they were true.
The only way to resolve his present predicament of painful dread and uncertainly was to speak with Lizzy directly. But he noticed with sadness that that excitement he had felt only ten minutes before for their date the following day was now gone. In its place was a feeling of dark foreboding. It was with nervous anxiety that he now looked forward to seeing his love, as if awaiting an execution.