The Registry Office Chapter 26, a pride and prejudice fanfic

A/N: Angst today. If this is too much for you to contemplate, come back to this story on April 29 when I post Chapter 30 and then you can read through all the craziness and catch up.

As one of my writing coaches, Jeanne, calls it, this is where we, as readers, face the "Dark Night of the Soul" along with the protagonist before everything is wrapped up neatly with a bow.

But first, as an author, I have to make you think everything is going to fall apart without any possibility of resolution.

Lizabeth was running late for work the next morning but figured she had a good excuse. However, traffic was unusually heavy. Leaving past her usual time didn't precisely account for the excessive traffic, so she turned on the car radio as the clock ticked closer to eight. There were always traffic reports 'at 3 and 8 in the 10s' on the local news station.

"Police activity has shut down Cumberland Avenue at Hemlock. The Sylvan Commercial Office Building has been cordoned off. Avoid the area and use alternate routes. No further information is being released at this time."

Cumberland and Hemlock were north of her, almost two miles away. It seemed odd that it would affect the traffic in her section of town, but she sighed and watched her car's clock flash 8:00.

She didn't open the office doors until 8:07. It was the latest she had ever arrived at work. Doug chided her about being out drinking and having trouble waking up. She admitted that she had, but then mentioned the traffic issue.

"I live out west, so I wasn't snarled in it." Doug showed no curiosity and turned to go through his usual morning routine.

Lizabeth attempted to focus on paperwork. All of the fictitious business filings from the previous week had to be checked in the newspaper to see if advertisements had been placed. But logging onto the Merton Daily proved to be a mistake.

Though it was a small-town daily paper with a bare-bones staff, it was still a newspaper with reporters. And Jason Jones was at the scene of the police activity giving live updates. Jason looked disheveled in a short news clip as he stood in front of the Sylvan Office Complex, which was leased by Spectre Software Security.

His first broadcast indicated that the police had a warrant and were searching the Spectre company headquarters for items or information relating to George Wickham's case. After all, George had been employed by Spectre Software until his arrest. Jason disclosed the fact that George had been summarily dismissed as his contract with the company allowed them to fire him with or without cause.

He gave a second broadcast, however, which disclosed that the police had asked some of the senior officers of the company to come to police headquarters 'for questioning,' but that no arrests had been made.

It was after she listened to the second broadcast that Troy Metcalfe poked his head around his door to peer out at her. "Interesting goings-on. I've got my police scanner on. Have you been following the news?"

Lizabeth wasn't sure if she wanted to admit how much she had been reading or listening to the news and not doing her job. "Yes. The traffic was terrible coming into town. This seems related to George Wickham's arrest."

"They've arrested three more employees of the firm that George worked for, and are looking for others who have gone to ground, according to the police scanner," said the judge.

"Really?" she exclaimed, and couldn't help the curiosity in her voice.

"Seems there's a lot more going on than credit card skimming," said Metcalfe. "But the police aren't saying why they're rounding up these people (or looking for them). They merely say they're 'just doing their job.'"

"Do you think this is going to help George, or was he part of a bigger…ring?" she couldn't think of a better way to put it.

"Not certain. I haven't spoken to George; he's still in custody. But from what Lydia told me, he's been transferred to federal prison as the FBI has been pulled in," the judge explained. His eyes shone with intrigue, though his face looked concerned. Perhaps he was just as curious as Lizabeth.

"The FBI! That's serious stuff." Her mind whirled at the possibilities. "What do you think is happening? And they've arrested some of the employees? I met some people from Spectre once when I was on a date with Edgar at the country club. George had invited them out to dinner, and then Ed and I ended up joining the party." She thought back to that night. It was practically the first day she had met William. Back when he had been belligerent and insulting. Lizabeth swallowed as that wasn't helping soothe her concerns about the two of them to remember how he had initially treated her.

"Given the amount of chatter on my police scanner, I'd say it's big. So, what does this company do?" Typically, Troy Metcalfe stayed hidden away, but he took another step out into the general recording office area.

She frowned. "They make software, security software for businesses, though I don't know anything more. But there was a lot of talk that night at the country club about real estate. Ed and I ended up going home separately as he and the Spectre crowd left together to go look at some property so they could consider a commercial real estate deal."

"The Goulding property," said a voice. They turned to see Doug had swiveled his chair around and was leaning against the desk which held the county terminal. He had been listening and had raised eyebrows as he grinned at them. "Ed Stone and Spectre and even your uncle, Lizabeth, have all formed a holding company with many other local investors to get Old Man Goulding's plot finally developed."

"Doesn't that seem like a stretch?" she asked. "Now that I think about it, a company that makes software doesn't usually branch out into commercial real estate development. They might consider renting space for their own needs, but it doesn't sound like that was what was going on with the Goulding property."

"They were the driving force behind getting Goulding to finally agree to it, after decades of his refusing to let the land be developed. Besides, they brought in some big investors, anonymous angel investors, and rallied locals to pitch in. There were varying levels of investment, so there would be varying levels of reward," Doug explained.

"Sounds like that bit-coin offering with different dividends paid depending on whether you were a miner or not," said Lizabeth. Doug nodded, but Judge Metcalfe looked confused. "Another crazy local happening," she waved a hand.

"I guess I'll go back and listen to my scanner," Troy Metcalfe murmured. "If you discover something, come knock."

"I will," Lizabeth agreed.

She went back to her desk. She was at work and should work, but she was itching to search for more information about this real estate development. Lizabeth also wanted more information about the arrests and with the police talking to 'persons of interest'—those people from Spectre Software. But she was an hourly employee, and though her palms itched to grab the mouse, she set aside her previous morning project and went to retrieve a map book. Scanning old maps would be her safest bet to keep her curiosity in check.

Lizabeth hadn't planned to eat in but gave rein to her curiosity once she locked the doors at twelve. The judge hadn't come back out, so it seemed that whatever chatter was on the police scanner had calmed down, and there wasn't anything new there. Jason Jones had nothing more to report on the Merton Daily website, though there was a written news item that detailed what his vlogs had described. There had been one edit that there were arrests and that it was a multi-jurisdiction affair.

What Lizabeth found of interest was that there was no mention of George Wickham. None of the reports tied this new activity back to his arrest. She wondered if his undertakings were separate from whatever was going on.

While she had done some research for William about the developers, she hadn't really looked at the documents. But she quickly scanned through them, reading about the LLC which had been formed to develop Old Man Goulding's property: Ground-Up Holdings. There had even been a small Merton Daily news article about local investors, "Old Families Renewing Ties" had been the headline. It contained the same cross-section of names which she had recently become familiar with, knowing that they were the families that had been long established in Merton. Goulding, Darling, Fitzwilliam, and Deburg, and even as Doug mentioned: Gardiner.

Her uncle was one of the smaller investors, as well as Edgar Stone, II and Edgar Stone, III. Even a Lucas was listed. Charlene had talked about her father being the last mayor of Merton before the residents voted to change the form of the city government. It was a vast cross-section of people, a lot she had seen at the Metcalfe's gender reveal. Only Troy Metcalfe and his good friend Judge Haggerston were missing as far as she could ascertain on that investor's list.

It was an enormous amount of money that was going to be put towards the development of a tech park and residential lots. The expected return on that investment must have those investors' eyes popping out of their heads as they considered the long-term goals. They probably all thought that they would be as rich as Croesus.

She felt guilty for not immediately going home, but Kitty didn't demand food these days. Most often, the cat wanted a lap (or even hid), so Lizabeth went to the hotel bar. It was a little more crowded than usual, with the chatter of voices talking and bouncing all around; she wondered if the occupants were discussing the local news. She nodded to Joe, who passed her a drink, and went to sit next to Mary.

"Is the talk here all about the arrests this morning?" Lizabeth asked.

"Mostly," Mary answered. "There are some people who don't pay attention and only come to drink and flirt."

"For once the Merton Daily is the news to read," Lizabeth remarked, sipping her drink. She needed to be careful because she hadn't eaten much at lunch.

"I've been impressed with Jason and his past investigative stories, so I wasn't surprised that he was on the scene and on top of this one," said Mary. "I look forward to seeing tomorrow's headline."

Lizabeth twirled her drink around in her fingers and then dared to ask. "Is Jason Jane's ex?" For once, Jane Sweet wasn't in the bar, decompressing after her workday.

"He is," said Mary.

"They broke up a month before she got together with Charles Lee?" she asked next. Mary nodded. Lizabeth thought about that, bouncing from one relationship to another. But hadn't she done that, dumped Ed and dated William soon after? She supposed that if the heart took you in that direction, then that is where you should go. "In some ways, it seems a shame as Jane's biggest quibble is that Charles lives so far away, and Jason lives here."

"I think there were other issues," Mary remarked as she continued to play. Her fingers always strummed the keys. "How are you doing? You seem confused."

Lizabeth thought that was exactly how she felt. "I am," she agreed. It was interesting when someone gave her a word or a label that helped to clarify things and give her perspective. "I am confused. Things with William seemed exciting and new and interesting. He's a producer from LA, which is thrilling. But he hasn't called in days. "

"Sounds like the Hollywood type," Mary said. "But that's neither here nor there. What do you want?"

"I wanted to date," she began, "since it was something I wasn't allowed to do. It was why I dated Ed. It was like a dessert I was told I couldn't have."

"But Ed turned out to be rotten food," Mary quipped.

Lizabeth laughed. "That's a good way to characterize him!"

"And William?" the pianist prompted.

"He's a great cook." She couldn't help but smile.

"I think that statement has multiple meanings," said Mary. "Do you like him?"

"I do. But…I am beginning to think that proximity is important."

"That's something to consider then," said her confessor and entertainer all rolled into one.

Lizabeth took a few more sips of her drink and listened to Mary play for a few more minutes before she headed home. The conundrum about the software company had been chased from her mind but now she was thinking about what she wanted from William Darcy, her date or lover or something of three-plus weeks now.

The cat had been fed, and she was in the middle of attempting another recipe by following a video when her cell phone rang. It was William. Her heart twisted as she thought about how inconvenient the timing. A part of her was tempted to let it go to voicemail. She hadn't talked to him since Monday, and that awkward conversation still rankled.

Lizabeth wiped a sticky hand on her pants to press 'answer,' then immediately hit 'speaker' and shouted, "I'm cooking!"

"Bad timing," he mused.

"Kinda," she was noncommittal.

"I'm on my way to a party to meet up with Caro. There's a writer who's supposed to attend that she thinks we should speak to." He paused, his voice trailed off. "Anyways, sorry. I've been distracted this week with work." She thought he didn't sound contrite; he was obviously on the road.

"I know that arc has been bothering you," she agreed, adding to the ambient noise as she ran the tap and washed her hands.

"The replacement writer didn't pan out. We're coming up against some hard deadlines. While we can take all the time we want with filming, there's still a whole other set of responsibilities to meet as CinemaReady has promotional deadlines of their own if we're to make their Fall lineup or even their Spring."

"I guess they want to know if you'll deliver on time?" Lizabeth thought dinner wasn't sounding appetizing now.

"And clips for them, and just how many episodes there will be. If I don't come out of the gate strong with Bella Montaña, I will never get a second season," he explained.

"Sounds like long hours, long days," she said.

"That's the thing…" William paused. "I'm not sure that I see coming north for a while in the foreseeable future." Those car noises echoed on the line between them as Lizabeth digested what he had said and wondered what the underlying meaning was.

"How long?" It was a logical question, right?

"A month, probably more. With CinemaReady's deadlines looming and us being so behind, I can't give a better estimate."

He wasn't asking her to come to visit. He wasn't saying how much he enjoyed spending time with her. William was carefully explaining how busy he was and giving her perfectly valid reasons for their not seeing each other for a month. It seemed a kind way of breaking up with her, one she had read about in all those romance books. (Lizabeth read both modern and historical ones.)

"I understand." Here was the point where she could take charge of her life. What did she want from him? She wanted proximity, while her job was relatively easy, it gave her no time off. His job required him to work eighty or a hundred hours a week, and he focused wholly on it but had flexibility as to his environment.

But that still didn't seem to make them compatible. In the weeks that they had been together, Lizabeth wondered if the highs were worth the lows. There was no device to measure such things. But she also decided that she didn't want to be on the receiving end of more disappointing phone calls like this one.

"I understand," she repeated. "I think we should break things off between us. Not that we have an us; we never talked about it." Lizabeth pulled on some inner strength. "We've just been, you know, seeing each other when you're in town. But now that you're not going to be…we should break things off. I think the distance thing is too much of an issue."

Wheels and motors and the traffic sound of a car speeding along a freeway echoed in her ear for a long time, it seemed, before he merely said, "okay."

"Best of luck with Bella Montaña," she said.

"Thanks. Best to you," said William. "Bye." He hung up.

Lizabeth carefully put away her cooking utensils and ingredients; food no longer had any appeal. She was numb but didn't wish to be. She wanted to cry and rant and scream and be distraught, but feeling those emotions and expressing them was something to work on. Her mother had feelings; Lizabeth wasn't allowed them.

Sometimes, she didn't want to be Lizabeth, but another person. Why had she been saddled with such a name that people like LuAnn Stone called her Lizzybeth. She couldn't even use her middle name as a backup; no woman she'd ever met, despite the trend for boys' names for girls, had ever been called Todd. But maybe she could go by Elizabeth? Well-known, never out of fashion, and what people called her half the time anyway when she first introduced herself.

She curled up on her bed; Kitty joined her. She thought that an Elizabeth would be upset about such a disastrous love affair. She was correct and started to bawl.

William had walked down to his car after leaving Lizabeth's apartment on Sunday with his phone in-hand. The number of emails staring at him had been unprecedented. He ended up sitting in his car for over an hour, answering the critical ones before even turning the engine on, and heading for home.

His mind whirled with the issues that awaited him, but somewhere on I-5, as he stopped for gas, he thought about Lizabeth and their conversation as he had headed out the door—that he always called her during the few free moments he carved out. But damn it, he was busy, a producer; she was simply a clerk in an office. He knew that he was annoyed, though he also wondered why she didn't just call him if she wanted to. Caroline had no trouble picking up the phone to get a hold of him. Neither had past girlfriends or lovers. Why couldn't Lizabeth be like them?

On Monday, he almost lost his mind, though he did lose his temper many times. He had arrived home after twelve but hadn't gone to bed until well past one as there had been more emails to handle. He was in the office by 7:30. It was a day of handling issues where he got minimal traction, and few answered phone calls or return emails. Caroline was of some help, and probably the only real help. She remembered things like stopping for lunch (getting Alexis to go out for something).

But he followed the stock market news that day, and his cousin's initial stock offering. RuggeCoin was very well received and exceeded most of the predictions. Somehow, though, it put him in a foul mood whenever he picked up the phone to call someone. Anne's offering swelled from five million to ten, then to over fourteen as he watched, amazed at how quickly investors took to her bit-coin offering. She was set now. He should be happy that he no longer needed to be concerned about her financial future. But William spent the rest of the day barking at everyone around him.

He was still in the office when his cousin called. It seemed she had the same thought. "Now you can stop worrying about me," was her opening salvo.

"You've done really well!" He could at least show his excitement for her.

"You should have bought shares. You would have tripled your money, day one." Anne laughed. It seemed uncharacteristic of her to laugh. "But maybe I didn't mention my little venture?"

"I knew about it because my g…friend mentioned it to me." He wasn't sure why he censored that tidbit, and were they girlfriend and boyfriend or just dating? "You met her; she lives up there."

"I recall — the one you brought by recently. I'm surprised your 'friend' has lasted this long. But the IPO—we may do another stock offering again soon if the demand keeps up. Want me to let you know if we do?"

"Yeah," he answered. William's mind was running along a half dozen tracts. He was always juggling many subjects. "Thanks for the call, and congratulations."

"Thanks," and Anne hung up.

He wondered why he didn't feel relieved about Anne's good fortune. With such bounty, they might be able to restore the Pemberley property, though Ryan with his one-third share was still poor. William's feelings fluctuated as he thought about the family's property and his cousins. Did he think of himself as a caretaker too much and not allow them to run their lives as they saw fit? He tried for happy. After all, Anne had made over fourteen million dollars in one day. How could he not be excited about that?

He glanced at the clock and noticed it was past eight. He still hadn't eaten dinner, nor had he called Lizabeth. He dialed a delivery place first before calling her. His mind was considering what Anne had done that day.

"Did you see?" he asked. She answered that she had, and the two of them discussed the details of Anne's accomplishments. Making such a large amount of money in one day was nothing to sneer at. His stomach rumbled, however, and he reached up to run a hand over his tired eyes. She asked how his day had been. His head began to pound just from the question, and his fingers moved up to rub his forehead. He didn't want to talk about his day. "The same, how was yours?"

"The same," was her answer. He thought she sounded like she too wanted to get off the phone. He asked one detailed question about her day, and Lizabeth countered with one about his work, but then she offered to let him go, and he took her up on it. The phone was buzzing in his ear; he could tell someone else was on the other line, so he hung up and answered the incoming call. It was the Thai delivery man; that had to be the best news that day, and he went down to meet the man at the office door.

Work was even worse the next day. It was about ten at night when he realized that he hadn't called Lizabeth. She hadn't even been in his thoughts. He hoped she understood, mentally sent her a note that he was busy, and carried on. On Wednesday, the entire new arc exploded. He and Caroline and Dan, the new writer, had been hashing details all morning, but tensions ran so high that they all had to take a break. They agreed to reconvene in the middle of the afternoon. Dan had great ideas, but wild ones too. Caroline had taken to doing historical research after the last fiasco and challenged the writer about a few points. He was the sensitive, long-suffering sort who didn't take even a small edit well, so criticism about historical context and direction threw him into hysterics.

William and Caro babied him along. She insisted that they go out to eat to continue their work. He thought it was a lost cause as Dan wasn't bending, and their experience with the previous writer had taught William to cut his losses sooner rather than later. It was a question of both time and money.

But while Dan was arguing about introducing a love interest for Charles' character, William glanced at his watch and realized how late it was. He couldn't call Lizabeth from the restaurant, so he texted her.

Work meeting tonight. Can't call, sorry

There was a short reply.

Sorry too

That didn't seem characteristic of Lizabeth, but Caro said something, and Dan pouted, actually sticking out his lower lip. William got sucked back into the discussion and didn't think about her for the rest of the night.

Dan quit the project before midnight. William was secretly glad to have him off of it, but he and Caroline were up almost until dawn, discussing what to do. It was probably a bad choice to attempt to talk business until four in the morning, but this arc had given them so much trouble already that they both wanted resolution.

Frustrated, he went home to sleep and returned to a long day at work. It wasn't until the next morning that he considered that he ought to have called Lizabeth. But such was dating him, right? She would understand; all his previous lovers had. His focus now was on deciding whether to change the storyline by trashing the arc or if they could amend it somehow while Caroline spent time reviewing potential writers.

Late Friday afternoon, his co-producer took two steps into his office. "Go home, shower, change, and we're going to a party as I have a lead on a writer."

He knew enough not to argue that his presence wasn't required. "Who's party?"

"Wallace, he does Amazon productions. Do your best to dress well and pull out all the charm," she cautioned.

"I will," he assured her.

He was leaving his house when his mind drifted to Lizabeth. He conjured up an image of her in a cocktail dress, oddly with her hair up (as much as he loved her dark hair swirling down around her shoulders) all dressed for a party. William wondered how she would handle LA parties.

She answered quickly, but she always did. He didn't fear that she would ghost him. Oddly, she was on speakerphone. "I'm cooking!"

"Bad timing," he mused.

"Kinda," was her reply.

"I'm on my way to a party to meet up with Caro," he explained. "There's a writer who's supposed to attend that she thinks we should speak to." He paused, his voice trailed off. "Anyways, sorry. I've been distracted this week with work." He didn't want to go to this party, but apologizing to a date about his work rankled suddenly. William hated to ever apologize for being who he was, and the choices he made.

"I know that arc has been bothering you," she remarked. It sounded like she was still carrying on with the cooking.

"I guess they want to know if you'll deliver on time?" She at least seemed to understand him; he appreciated that about her. Lizabeth was accommodating, not like past lovers.

"And clips for them, and just how many episodes there will be. If I don't come out of the gate strong with Bella Montaña, I will never get a second season," he mused, lost in thought again.

"Sounds like long hours, long days," she said.

"That's the thing…" William paused. "I'm not sure that I see coming north for a while in the foreseeable future." He hadn't considered that or intended to say it, but it was the truth. The whirling sound of the freeway was in his ear. He couldn't hear cooking noises from her end anymore. Then she asked him how long until he would come up. "A month, probably more. With CinemaReady's deadlines looming and us being so behind, I can't give a better estimate."

"I understand." He was thrilled that she did. They lived too far apart to see each other more than once a month when his deadlines meant every waking moment was work for the foreseeable future. "I understand," she repeated. "I think we should break things off between us. Not that we have an us; we never talked about it. We've just been, you know, seeing each other when you're in town. But now you're not going to be…we should break things off. I think the distance thing is too much of an issue."

William suddenly developed telescopic vision. He worried for a second that he would lose control of the car and took his foot off the accelerator. What had he done? Didn't she understand? All his previous lovers understood the 'cooling off but not calling it off' agreement. It was the next phase. An adjustment. It was what he had done with all of his previous relationships. His past lovers understood. Why didn't Lizabeth?

"Okay," was all he could say after there had been a long-drawn-out ringing silence between them. She had told him what she needed to, but had he even paid attention to her words?

"Best of luck with Bella Montaña," she said.

"Thanks. Best to you," he replied. "Bye." He hung up.

A/N: hope you are all coping. You don't have to learn a new craft or a language. You simply have to survive quarantine and this pandemic. That's it. If you do nothing BUT survive, you've done an excellent job.

I did an order from Target as they seem to be shipping things quicker than Amazon right now. Bought a crepe pan and made crepes for the first time. They turned out pretty good, often holey, but heck, my first attempt. We ate all of them. I used the _remaining flour_ in the house to do it. So not going to be able to repeat anytime soon, sigh.

But I also made home-made whipped cream, like William did on their date. I got THAT notion from my youngest who took years of high school cooking. Nothing beats home-made whipped cream!

Stay safe.