Chapter 34: Handwritten
Greg Wickham unfolded the handwritten note he had found under his welcome mat earlier that morning and began to peruse its contents for a fifth time. So far, having an "inside man" had been incredibly helpful, but this latest bit of information had come too late to even be useful; in fact, it seemed that its only reason for existence was to make his blood boil.
Darcy was in the Dominican Republic for his yearly family vacation. Just found out last night. Should be arriving to Newark later today.
The portion of the note that made him see red was the uncannily familiar location; Wickham knew from his semi-regular visits to Lizzy's apartment that she was also in the DR. Had they seen each other? Had they gone together, even? It didn't make sense…he was sure that their weekly phone calls had begun to make inroads on Elizabeth's heart, and Lizzy had made it very clear how little she cared for Darcy – a sentiment he had been happy to encourage. And yet, it seemed almost too coincidental to believe that their travel plans were completely unrelated.
A familiar, jealous rage swept through him as he slammed his fist through the plaster of the kitchen wall, watching the blood slowly trickle down the sides of his knuckles when he withdrew his hand. He paused to revel in the sight of the bright red gashes against his rugged skin; the sight of raw, torn flesh refocused his thoughts and brought him clarity. He was better than this, but in reality, not all had been lost. There was no excuse for Will's trip having escaped his notice, but he was resourceful. He could adapt.
Besides, there was no guarantee anything had changed; Elizabeth was not someone to be won over easily, and Darcy would have to work harder than most. All he needed to do was be patient…his date with her on the twentieth would tell him everything he needed to know.
Lizzy lay in bed after a mostly sleepless night, watching the shadows in her room lessen under the influence of the slowly rising sun. Closing her eyes, her mind was once again flooded with the image of her last parting with Will Darcy. The encounter had seared itself in her memory; the violence of the water crashing down behind him at the entrance of the cave, mirroring the vehemence of her own rampant thoughts. His voice like a distant echo, telling her that he loved her, that she had bewitched him, that he was hers. Her words - her lie - calculated to wound with the precision of a scalpel, telling him he never had a chance. His eyes - two calm, impenetrable orbs contemplating her one last time - betrayed only by the restless energy coursing through the rest of his body and revealing his fury. And finally, after he dove through the rushing torrent and finally left her alone in the gloomy cave, the feeling of loss that flooded over her with a force so powerful it had caused her knees to buckle, her lungs to constrict and uncontrollable tears to flow.
Whether it was her sister's loss or her own, she wasn't quite sure.
It had been everything and still, insufficient, all in one moment, and Elizabeth had yet to find any sort of peace regarding the situation. How was she supposed to face him in just a few hours at breakfast? What could she do? How should she act? There was no way that she could see him, and yet, avoiding him was equally impossible with three days left in the vacation.
The sound of movement at the foot of her door roused her from her tormented thoughts. Glancing over, she saw a white envelope gleaming pale purple in the hazy twilight of her room, tightly nestled between her door frame and her carpet.
She didn't need three guesses to figure out who it was from. For a long while she stared at it from her curled up position in bed, the milky white of the envelope beckoning to her from across the room. After a long moment of contemplation, she left the comfort of her bed to retrieve the letter, and then settled on the chaise on her room's private balcony.
A firm and decisive hand had written her name across the front of the envelope.
For a brief moment, she considered ripping the letter into one thousand pieces and sending the tiny, fluttering bits out to sea. Her fingers toyed with the edge, contemplating that very act; however, as her mind debated the pros and cons of such an action, her curiosity had already slid her nail under the sealed flap and tore open the missive.
She was not prepared for what she found.
Elizabeth Bennet,
By the time you read this, I will already be back in the states, and you may rest assured that I will not be revisiting any of the sentiments that were yesterday so…repulsive to you. I have no desire to speak of such topics further, or to inflict any further discomfort on either of us.
However, I discovered the answer to a question you asked me the other day, in a place that I least expected to find it. This discovery led to several others; the most pressing of which was an urgent need for justification. Although I am fully aware that some of what must be said may offend you, I have to prioritize gratifying my own needs in this matter, and can only apologize for any additional displeasure given. It is imperative that I defend myself against the variety of accusations you so easily flung at me yesterday; if not for the sake of my honor, at least for my own peace of mind.
First, when it comes to your sister - I see now that a gross error was made when it comes to the identity of the author of the email. That is, in fact, the only part of the situation that I do not reflect with satisfaction, and I honestly regret that the truth of the circumstances was not discovered sooner. However, I must rigorously defend my actions based on what was known at the time, and further declare that I would readily behave in the same fashion should the situation be repeated. I had already expressed my observation to Charles that your sister did not seem to be equally enamored of him (I had noticed on more than one occasion that your sister seemed content, but not overly so); the evidence the email provided to validate my observations only further compelled me to intercede on his behalf. The content of the message produced grave concerns that my friend was being manipulated and, considering the fact that he had recently decided to purchase an engagement ring for your sister, I knew that it was in Charlie's best interests that I act quickly and make him aware of the circumstances. I am certain that, if you had a friend in a similar situation that you thought was being betrayed by their significant other, you would have acted similarly.
I must stress, however, that the decisions made in the situation were Bingley's, and Bingley's alone. I provided him information, and provided my advice when asked, but it was Charlie who made the final decisions on the direction of his relationship with your sister. In this matter, therefore, I have no other apology to offer.
The matter of Greg Wickham seems to have long been a source of contention between us, although I fear it could not have been helped. The reason for my reserved manner of warning you about him is a circumstance that very few are aware of: even my closest family and friends do not know the particulars. I will divulge to you what I have divulged to no one, but I must ask for your complete silence and secrecy. The information I am about to share with you would pose a severe threat to the reputation of someone who is as dear to me as my own flesh - my sister - as well as to my own freedom should it be made known that I disclosed it.
Greg Wickham is my god-brother. His parents and my own were best friends, and we saw each other often growing up. He always seemed to be in some sort of un-spoken competition with me, but I never truly understood where it stemmed from. As we grew older, we grew more and more different. Even so, we still wound up going to the same university and became roommates.
Our second semester junior year we had a lengthy research paper due in one of our classes. Greg had always been a student who passed by the skin of his teeth, preferring to focus on alcohol and other substances instead of his studies, but he had really slacked when it came to this particular assignment. I think he mentioned at some point that he thought it was to be handed in the following week; regardless, the day before the paper was due he stayed out late partying with friends.
Realizing his error, he stole my paper off my computer, changed the name and handed it in as his own. Such a blatant act of plagiarism could not be overlooked and we were both brought before the review board. Before our hearing, Wickham approached me and asked me to take the blame for him; he insisted that they would never throw me out because of who I was. I adamantly told him that I was unwilling to put such an undeserved blemish on my academic record. In the end I was exonerated, and he was expelled: the time stamp on the respective files clearly demonstrated that I was the original author of the document.
All connection between us seemed at an end. Shortly after, I learned that Greg had been even more of a partier than even I had previously been aware, as he had quickly been becoming one of the main drug dealers on the campus. This, coupled with the fact that he had been comfortable plagiarizing my report to then confidently request my assistance in his deceit - even at the expense of my own academic respectability - showed me the picture of someone in whose character I had been greatly deceived.
I wish I could tell you that this was the end of our connection. My sister, Gianna, is nine years younger than me, and began attending Dartmouth last year. We have a close relationship, but due to the untimely death of both our parents, the brother/sister and father/daughter lines frequently get blurry. Like almost every modern teenager, she saw her freshman year as her opportunity to break free. It seems that Wickham and she had shared on and off conversation over the years under the pretense of being god-siblings, and once she became completely independent, that relationship quickly blossomed into a romance for her. He came to visit once a month at Dartmouth, and she was led to believe that the relationship was serious. At his urging, she failed to tell me anything about their seeing each other. I had no idea of any sort of existing connection between them, and therefore never saw a need to warn Gianna about his character. (At the time of the plagiarism incident, remember, she was only twelve years old.) It is a failure that I regret every day of my life.
Unfortunately, Wickham had not stopped his drug business; although he never told her that he was a dealer, he did introduce my sister to marijuana for recreational use. One day, they were driving in her car and she was pulled over for speeding. Wickham leapt from the passenger seat and ran into the woods to escape arrest. The cops were unable to find him, but due to his hasty exit, they gave her a mortifying pat down and searched her vehicle, finding 2 large duffles of cocaine in her trunk. She claimed she knew nothing about them, but the cops took her into the precinct anyway. After their investigation finished, the cops had 2 Dartmouth duffle bags that belonged to my sister filled with cocaine, her fingerprints on the bags containing the drugs (I can only assume that Wickham used bags my sister touched before he filled them with cocaine), a woman admittedly dating someone they knew to be a known drug dealer, and a suspect who tested positive for recent marijuana use. She was booked for possession with intent to sell.
She is now awaiting trial in a case that can send her to jail for twenty years, forced to wear an ankle monitor and unable to leave the country. She has declined any and all plea bargains because she refuses to confess to a crime that is not her own. We are hoping that the authorities are able to locate Wickham and make him confess; but even if he is captured, I am not sure that he will willingly clear her name. Although I have nothing specific to prove the sensation, I fear that he is using her to get to me.
I had the judge presiding over her case implement a gag-order so that her name would not be dragged through the mud. My side work as a model, in addition to our family wealth and status, unfortunately ensures that the media would jump all over the story if they got wind of it. There are people who love a juicy bit of celebrity gossip, and others who will pay a substantial sum to discover and publish it. It was the gag-order that prevented me from sharing these details with you, and I hope that you will do my faith in your integrity justice by keeping these details to yourself alone. It is also my hope that by keeping the affair secret, if by some miracle my sister is absolved, there will be no connection in the public memory between my sister and the details of the crime.
It was painful to watch my starry-eyed sister wonder if it was all just an honest mistake - that Wickham never really intended to involve her; in the time that they had been seeing each other, she had developed very strong feelings for him and held an unreasonable belief in his loyalty. That is, she did until four days ago, when the police found an old hangout of Wickham's loaded with surveillance photos of both her and myself. I'm still not sure what Wickham is out for, or why he seems to be focused on me, but he is cunning, capable and decidedly dangerous.
I hope that this history clears me of any wrongs you believe I made against him. I am sorry to have to burden you with such information, but there was no other way for me to explain the assertions of danger that I had previously made to you.
One word that you seemed rather fond of in your description of me yesterday was "liar", and you utilized my inability to tell you who I looked at in Toshi's as evidence of my deceptions. Out of all the accusations laid at my door, this struck with the most force, as I was honest when I told you that I despise telling lies and effecting deceit. Even implementing the gag-order was a struggle, but there was nothing else to be done in that regard.
Although I was unable to give you an answer then, nothing other than a stroke of fate now allows me to tell you exactly who I looked at. At dinner last evening, your friend Charlotte wore a bright purple dress to the table; the same purple dress she wore that night at Toshi's. If you were as close as you say you were when I made my remarks, I can only assume that Charlotte was also nearby enough for me to mistake Charlie's gesture as singling out Charlotte instead of yourself. You have to be aware that your sister and yourself look very little alike; Charlotte, with her dirty blonde hair and tiny frame, seemed a much more believable candidate and was, in fact, who my eye settled on.
You must understand that our mutual connection through work long prevented my acknowledging a serious attraction to you, as any romance stemming from that connection would have been unprofessional and frowned upon by our peers. In fact, I had only just decided to no longer allow us to meet through work when you conveniently appeared on my best friend's door step, and provided the casual acquaintance necessary to justify pursuing you without fear of professional fallout. But perhaps it is best to leave these details to the past.
However, I understand that what has transpired between us may currently make you uneasy at your workplace. Rest assured that your contract with my company is safe, as is your comfort. I have every intention to keep contact between ourselves to a bare minimum.
I hope that you enjoy the rest of your vacation,
William Darcy
Upon finishing the letter, Elizabeth wasn't sure what to think, although her chest felt constricted with an anxiety she couldn't place. Even the information she had expected to read was somehow different from the perspective that the handwritten note provided. She rose and sat, leaned on the railing of the terrace, and simply paced back and forth. Finding nothing that could adequately soothe her, she reclaimed her seat on the chaise, hurriedly yanked open the letter and read it again in it's entirety, eyes pouring over every wretched and unexpected detail.
She repeated this process multiple times until it was long after breakfast. Four hours later, she was no closer to determining what she thought than when she started. She did, however, know how she felt.
Speechless.
A/N: I am so sorry for the wait. Thank you for your patience and I hope I haven't lost your attention. I am promising you now that this story will never be abandoned...it may take me longer than I would like between updates, but I am in this for the long haul. As always, check the end of the previous chapter for any updates if you haven't heard from me in awhile.
Thank you, thank you for your support, favorites, follows and reviews! I really appreciate you all reaching out to me and I hope our contact continues.