Chapter 15

Do all fairy tales begin with once upon a time?

And take place in eternal rhyme?

Not so, says I.

Is there always a prince with effortless charm?

And a princess who always comes to harm?

Not so, says I.

Is there always a slipper – or a curse – or a witch?

Or an evil little man trying to strike it rich?

No, I say, a fairy tale can be anywhere –

Look for it, my dear, if you dare.

Susanna laughed at her cousin's little poem. Adrienne had written it for her to try to entice her to come to Ryan and Darcy's wedding – Susanna had already said no. Adrienne, of course, didn't know what had happened in Italy, for Susanna had absolutely forbidden herself to think, or talk, about it.

She was on her way to Telera for her mother's birthday. After all the excitement, if you could call it that, in Italy, Susanna had returned to New York for a few days, before her aunt had called and said that she was holding a party for her mother's sixtieth birthday. It was a surprise, so Susanna was not to let on that she was coming, even though her mother had called her numerous times about the engagement. According to her, the whole country was in an uproar, which sounded impressive until Susanna reminded her that that was like saying everyone in her apartment building was angry – the population of Telera was not many.

Susanna had already wrestled with the thought that going to Telera most certainly meant that she would hear nothing but the engagement while she was there. But, she decided, she wasn't going to let it bother her. In fact, she hardly even cared that they were engaged anymore. She was over it, had moved on, et cetera.

Anyone who saw her or spoke with her had no clue that she had ever gotten upset over the engagement. She responded to talk of it with a cool, disinterested, but not distressed, demeanor. Details about the wedding itself began to leak; although the queen had not disowned him, it seemed she didn't want the wedding to take place at the palace. Rumors were that it was going to be in Paris, but there was no word on how big or small.

Darcy had all but quit her job, and Susanna was in the process of hiring a new secretary. She was having nightmarish flashbacks to the last time she had had to hire someone; it had taken weeks of bimbos and driven lunatics alike until she had found Darcy. She put aside the poem and went back to the piles of folders containing profiles of the dozens of hopeful candidates.

Yet her eye kept catching the poem. She picked it back up and considered it for a moment. But their wedding was a fairy tale, she thought. They may as well write "happily ever after" on the wedding cake. She remembered the "glass" shoes she had given Darcy to wear once… which reminded her that Darcy had never returned them.

She clicked her tongue and put the poem away, out of her sight, and returned to the secretary-wannabes. She wanted to call her cousin, but the pilot had strictly forbidden it – something about the weather.

In a half hour, the pilot said he was about to land. Without quite realizing it, Susanna stood, stretched, and braced herself for what was to come.

"Have you finished that list yet, dear?"

Ryan sat on a stool in his mini-kitchen, staring at the blank sheet of paper in front of him. Darcy had asked him to write down the names of those whom he definitely wanted to come to the wedding. That had been ten minutes ago, and the only name he could think of was Susanna.

But Darcy's question jerked him out of his fog, and he clicked the pen. "Almost!" he called back.

He quickly began to write down the names of family members, close friends, and some nobility who would be scandalously offended if they weren't invited. His pen hovered for a moment, trying to decide if he should write Bennet. He finally wrote the mother's name, and moved on.

Darcy wandered into the kitchen, in her pajamas and talking on the phone.

"No, raspberries, not strawberries… Well, I don't especially like strawberries… No, not vanilla! Chocolate!... Seven layers, not six…" she grabbed an apple from above Ryan's head and gave him a quick kiss. She was stressed, but he thought it to be unnecessary. Sure, they had decided to get married in only three weeks, but how hard could it be?

"No, I don't speak French!" he heard her cry from the next room. "Don't you dare put him on!"

He chuckled, and returned to the list. The list, too, he thought was pointless; most of these people were probably already planning on coming. He wondered if the people were still upset; his mother had been, of course, but her sense of propriety had quickly outweighed her anger. It may be embarrassing that he was getting married to Darcy, but it would be far more embarrassing if the wedding was called off.

"Alright, I have to go see about those flowers. Call the tuxedo place in Paris… you can speak French, right honey?" Darcy said, dressed and carrying a huge album of pictures.

He nodded, and she kissed him, letting it linger for a bit. He deepened it, unknowingly trying to find some bit of the feeling he had had with Susanna. When he didn't find it, he broke away, and tried to smile. She grinned, giving his nose a tap and then leaving the apartment.

Don't think of her… he warned himself. But it was futile. He found himself thinking of Susanna's thick, brown hair, her bright, knowing smile, her deep brown eyes… then he thought of Darcy. Maybe he was overrating Susanna. Maybe he only thought she was so beautiful because he wanted her to be beautiful. Maybe that kiss had been so amazing because he had willed it to be amazing.

Besides, what he had with Darcy was fine. Great, even. He was comfortable with her, he could talk to her… who cares if he didn't feel fireworks every time they kissed? Who cares that she didn't always understand him right away? They would be fine, he decided. He wasn't settling for Darcy… it wasn't like he thought that a marriage to Susanna would be any better. It wouldn't, actually. He had seen what happened to people when they married for love; they turned into compromising, giddy fools. He didn't want that… and with that soothing thought, he called the tuxedo shop.

Susanna's Aunt Emily picked her up and took her to her own manor, a few short minutes away from the Bennet estate. The manor was in a flurry of activity; tents were being set up, tables were being set, garlands and wreaths and ribbons were being hung from the trees.

"It looks lovely!" Susanna told her aunt.

"You don't think it's a bit much?" her aunt said with a worried brow.

Susanna smiled. "It's wonderful."

They left the car and brought Susanna's things into the house. To her great surprise, Adrienne was there, who hugged Susanna and helped her with her things.

"You should become a poet," Susanna said to her as the mounted the stairs.

Adrienne laughed. "I am rather brilliant. But am I convincing?"

Susanna grinned and said, "No."

"Oh come on, Susanna. I know you don't like him, but I really want you to come."

Susanna inwardly chuckled. Well, it was better to have her think that was the reason Susanna didn't want to come than the real reason. Adrienne dropped the subject and they talked of other things.

"How did you possibly get off work?" Susanna asked.

"Oh, I didn't. I have to give a presentation to the Teleran Parliament in two days."

Susanna laughed.

"What about you? Weren't you just gone from work?" Adrienne asked.

"Yeah, but there's not much for me to do until the spring shows start."

"Spring?" Adrienne marveled. "But it's only October!"

"Well, yes, but they like to get a head start on things," Susanna said with a smile. Fashion was a mystery to those not involved.

She spent a pleasant evening with her aunt and cousin, as the party was still being set up outside. They talked a bit of the engagement, but neither Emily nor Adrienne was shocked and appalled. They passed it off as wonderful that a royal had finally fallen in love. Susanna fell asleep knowing that tomorrow, she would not hear quite the same thing.

The party began at two in the afternoon, at which time Giselle would arrive with her sister on the pretense of showing her a new garden, and everyone would come out of hiding, shout surprise, and then quickly relapse into their own conversations.

Susanna got dressed in chartreuse, flared skirt, a white top, and a wide-brimmed hat. She went to the lawn at five to two, finding nearly half of Telera chattering amongst themselves amidst the decorations. She politely said hello to everyone, waiting for her cousin's signal that meant to hide.

Adrienne soon came out of the house, gesturing everyone to hide. Susanna crouched behind a table, peering around the side to watch for her mother. She soon saw her, so engrossed in a conversation with her sister that she didn't notice the decorations. She finally rounded the corner, and everyone leapt up.

"Surprise!" they all cried. Mrs. Bennet looked like she'd had a heart attack; her one hand clutched her heart, her other clasping her hat. Susanna hurried forward, a smile on her face.

"Happy birthday, Mother!" she said. Her mother tore her eyes from her surroundings and looked at Susanna. Suddenly, her face also broke into a smile.

"Susanna, darling," she said. She hugged her daughter, who was very relieved; it was the first time Susanna was seeing her mother after her little tantrum in London. They didn't get to talk however, for Mrs. Bennet was soon swept up by the crowd. She also lost Adrienne to a heated discussion with another politician, so Susanna decided to mingle.

Sure enough, wherever she went, the engagement followed. She hopped from group to group, listening in for a few minutes, but quickly growing irritated with the conversation. She didn't want to get irritated; she wanted to remain calm, collected. She finally happened upon a group of ladies who were not so much discussing the nature of the engagement, but the wedding itself.

"Seven layer, raspberry chocolate cake is what I heard," one of the women was saying.

"I heard six layers," another protested.

Susanna rolled her eyes, but decided that an argument over cake layers was an improvement. She let her mind wander as they talked; she wondered what the dress would look like, where the reception would take place… she could imagine Paris, at night, under the stars… it was rather romantic.

"Of course, it will be rather tense, don't you think?" one was saying.

"Well, naturally. The queen is none too happy with her."

Susanna groaned and made ready to leave.

"What do you feel, Susanna?"

Surprised, she brought her attention back to the group. "What?"

"Well, she was your secretary. What do you feel about it? Surely you must feel something."

Susanna graced her face with a false smile, and said cheerily, "No, see, that's where you're wrong. I have no feelings."

Chuckling, she left the astounded group and walked toward the house. She was joined by her cousin, who linked Susanna's arm into her own.

"You must come," Adrienne began. "You simply must."

Susanna sighed. She was rather curious about the whole thing, and besides, she would rather like to see Ryan's face when she showed up.

"Alright, then, I'll come."

"Okay, the invitations are done. Will you come deliver some with me?" Darcy asked. Ryan was not exactly excited, but he shrugged and said yes.

They left the hotel and went by the store where they had bought the invitations. They sat in Central Park as Darcy began to sort through them.

"Here, you take these and put the ones that need to be mailed in this pile," she ordered, placing a stack of invitations in his hand. He shifted through them, placing all the Telerans in one pile, and the rest in another.

Northam, Telera. Bartlett, Telera. Connell, New York. Sivler, Telera. Bennet, Telera. Bo- Wait a second. He picked the Bennet invitation back up. Susanna Bennet, Park Avenue, New York.

"Susanna?" he asked, showing the invitation to Darcy.

"Yes! Oh, darling, I have to invite her. She was so good to me, and besides, she's the reason we met, right?" Darcy said.

He nodded, and put it in the New York pile, a flood of panic flushing through him. But then he remembered what Susanna had said in Italy: Would you mind if I didn't come? She wouldn't show up and ruin his plan. She wouldn't want to come… right? Unless that kiss really hadn't meant anything to her; unless she had decided to go back to hating him like she always had…

She won't come, he firmly told himself. She just won't. Confident, he went back to sorting through the invitations.

By mid-afternoon, they began to go around the city, delivering the invitations. Darcy had insisted that it would be a waste of stamps to just mail them.

"You didn't invite your family?" Ryan asked in the cab, noticing their name was not on the list.

"Um, no," Darcy said uncomfortably.

Ryan looked at her. "Darcy, we're about to get married."

"I know," she said, avoiding his eyes.

"You've never told me anything about your family," he went on.

"Haven't I?" she said nervously.

"I'd like to know," Ryan said, secretly dismayed that he was about to marry a girl who had never told him one thing about her family.

She looked at him, but sighed when she saw his imploring gaze. "Alright, I'll tell you the truth. Just don't get upset, okay?"

He nodded, somewhat anxious.

She took a breath, and then began, "My mother died when I was ten, and after that my father and I were very poor. He went from job to job, so I worked every day after school. Then, when I was… oh, sixteen, or so, he married Miss Vagarte, my stepmother."

Vagarte… Ryan thought. That name sounds familiar…

"My father got a job on Wall Street, and I pretty much just stayed home. I… did a few chores around the house, and they needed me around, so I never went to college. When I was twenty, though, my… my father died, as well. I've lived with my stepfamily ever since… do you remember that time that you took me to that party, when I kept changing my name, and then I left early?"

Ryan nodded.

"Well… that was because my stepfamily was there, and I… I wasn't really supposed to leave the house… I mean, I had to wash the windows and do their laundry, so I didn't think I would have all that much time, so-"

"Wait a moment," Ryan interrupted. "You had to wash the windows and do their laundry?"

She nodded, nervously examining her fingernails. "Just a few chores," she repeated. "And do you remember there were three women in the tent when you proposed?"

"I knew they looked familiar!" Ryan said, remembering with a grimace the three ugly ladies.

"Anyway, it's no big deal now, because I'm with you," she said, giving him a kiss, "and I never have to worry about them again."

He sighed. "Why didn't you tell me all this before?"

She shrugged. "I didn't think I would have to. Besides, I don't want to think about the past, I want to focus on my future… with you."

She smiled and kissed him again. He sighed again and settled back into the seat, trying to comprehend what she had said. See, he had to marry her! The poor girl; she had nowhere to go but with him. She had no family but the one he could provide.

They pulled up to Susanna's building. Ryan steeled himself; he hadn't seen Susanna since Italy, and he wasn't quite sure he was ready to just yet.

Darcy took him by the hand and led him inside. They went up the elevator, but Ryan's stomach felt like it was going the other way. Just stay cool… let Darcy do the talking.

The elevators opened on Susanna's floor, but what they found was Keith. He stood by the door, a box of things at his feet, scribbling a note.

He looked up at the sound of the elevator, and a look of surprise flashed over his face. He didn't look at Ryan, and instead focused on Darcy. Ryan looked at Darcy, who now had a bit of a smile on her face.

There was a moment of silence before Darcy said, "Well, hello."

Keith smiled. "Hello." He finally looked to Ryan. "Ryan," he said, and they shook hands. "And Darcy, I presume?"

Darcy bit her lip, and nodded, also reaching out her hand. Keith, however, did not shake it, but brought it up to his lips and gave it a light kiss. Ryan watched this exchange with a confusing mixture of alarm and curiosity.

"She's not home," Keith said, gesturing to the door.

Ryan felt an immediate sense of relief, forgetting for the moment about the weird tension in the tiny lobby.

"Well, we'll just leave it for her, then," he said, taking the invitation and sliding it under the door. Keith finished his note and stuck it to the door.

There was another odd silence, when Keith said, "So, you two are getting married."

Was that disappointment in his voice? Ryan eyed him with suspicion.

"Yes, in Paris in three weeks," Darcy replied. It was the first time she had said the news without squeaking in excitement. Ryan turned his suspicious eye to her.

"Paris!" Keith repeated. "How wonderful. Paris is practically like a second home to me."

"Really?" Darcy asked, clearly interested.

"Yes. I lived there for two years after college," Keith explained.

"Then you know all about it! Do you happen to know where the La Chapelle de Sainte Mary is?" Darcy asked, in an embarrassingly American accent.

Keith chuckled. "La Chapelle de Sainte Marie," he repeated in a perfect French accent. Ryan inconspicuously rolled his eyes.

Darcy blushed. "I am hopeless."

"No," Keith said, "with some practice, you could speak beautiful French."

Darcy smiled. "Um, Keith, I hope this isn't too forward, but may I ask you something?"

Keith nodded. "Of course."

"Well, I've been having so much trouble with planning this wedding… I've never even been to Paris, so I have no idea what I'm doing half the time… do you think you could, that is, if your not too busy, um, well, could-"

"I would be delighted to help," Keith answered before she could ask. She smiled, letting out a contented sigh.

Ryan watched as they talked on about Paris, his mind working double time. Could he marry Darcy knowing that she was in love with someone else?

Wake up, a voice said inside his head. You're marrying her knowing you're in love with someone else.

He grunted. As much as he hated to admit it, it was true. He was marrying Darcy knowing full well that he didn't love her. But he had already taken care of that, remember? He had been through this, with the not caring about fireworks, and giddy, love-struck fool thing. But her being in love with someone else was a completely different story. Because once she figured it out, it was up to her to decide whether or not they were getting married, not Ryan. If it had only been him who had known that he wasn't marrying someone he loved, it would have been fine, because he had already thought it through. But Darcy… something told him that once Darcy realized that she wasn't in love with the person she was marrying, she would think it through and decide to not marry him.

But he couldn't stop it now. She and Keith were already talking about Parisian bridal shops. There was no way Ryan was going to get rid of him.

He sighed and decided maybe it was all for the best. What will be will be. Right? He can't decide his own fate… that's ridiculous. A thought flickered through his mind – if Darcy fell in love with Keith, and she was the one who called off the wedding, then maybe Susanna would forgive him…

Ryan smiled and wholeheartedly joined the conversation.