A/N—Thanks for the reviews, guys! They make me happy. :D To clear things up, the whole Floating Heart Thing is almost like a rite of passage. It happens only when one falls in love for the first time. They're not all that big—the largest they can grow would be about the size of one's palm. And I must warn you: a subplot begins to develop in this chapter.
Day 2
"You did what!?"
Charles let out a puff of breath and ran a hand through his hair. Normally, he wasn't one to be out of humor, but Will's constant bad mood was growing irritating. This was only the second day since The Incident. And now he had started up again. Good God, why was he being such a pain about all this?
"You heard me, William. I invited them over," he said patiently, as a tired parent would speak to a child throwing a tantrum.
"Why would you invite them, as in both? Haven't you had enough of them this past week?Oh, my poor nerves…"
Charles laughed.
"You're beginning to sound like Mrs. Bennet, Will," he pointed out. This made William pause, and in the end he smiled wryly.
"To answer your question," Charles continued, "I happen to enjoy their company. I'm sorry if you've got your panties in a bunch because you don't want to see Lizzy, but must you be such a baby about it?"
Charles collapsed onto the couch and turned on the television. He gripped the remote in his hand lazily, not expecting an answer.
"I have not—," Darcy began. He hesitated. "Well… I guess I have been a bit trying about it, haven't I?"
Charles grinned at his friend.
"You have no idea."
William sighed and joined his friend on the couch.
"Sorry about that," he apologized. "It's just that I'm not used to… this." He motioned vaguely with his hand. "Obviously." He grimaced.
"I know," Charles chirped. "But I don't know why you're so averse to seeing Lizzy again. Why are you being so resistant?"
"I just—it would never work," he said dejectedly, looking at the floor. Charles looked at him, genuine surprise etched into his features.
"Why not?" he asked, confused.
William was saved from making an answer by the entrance of Caroline. They were both caught relatively off-guard. Her approach had not been marked by the clicking of heels, as per usual. Her appearance was also remarkable. She was scandalously clad in a faded band t-shirt and a simple pair of blue jeans.
She even wore sneakers.
Sneakers.
Heavens above.
There wasn't a designer on her, and that left them speechless. Also, she wore no makeup except for a small bit of naturally colored stuff, sparsely applied. And the coup de grâce—her hair was tied up. In a ponytail.
Who was this woman?
"C-Caroline?" her broker broke in, his voice high-pitched and unbelieving. She bristled at the looks the boys were giving her and was about to make a sharp remark when the startled voice of William Darcy reached her ears.
"Caroline—you look—nice!" It was true, and he was surprised by it. Although his shock was evident, sincerity rang true in his tone, and the woman perceived it. It was her turn to be astonished.
"I—thank you," she said. Moments passed and when it was clear that the men fully intended to do nothing but stare at her, she cleared her throat.
"I have to leave now," she announced. She was almost completely out of the room when her brother cried out, "Wait!"
She turned.
"Where are you going?"
"Out," she replied shortly, hiding a secret smile. She vanished from sight before either of them had the chance to ask her to elaborate. In contrast to her exit from the very same room the day before, she left behind the trailing scent of something clean. The wonderful perfume of clean. Fresh laundry, au de soap.
It was utterly bewildering.
"Was that Caroline Bingley?" William asked incredulously. Charles stared back at him.
"I hardly know!"
"I didn't think she owned a pair of jeans."
"I didn't think she owned a pair of sneakers!"
"I didn't think she owned a t-shirt!"
"I've walked into a madhouse!"
"I own a madhouse!"
It took a long moment for the two to finally regain their senses.
"So."
"So."
"Do, ah, these things ever go away?" William asked, motioning to his head. The question had been persistently prodding at his brain since he first looked in the mirror on that fateful day twenty-eight hours ago. Charles looked at him.
"Yeah," he answered. "Once the infatuation wears off. But actually…" He grew thoughtful. "I don't know, Will. It may be insignificant, but your heart's a different color than mine, or even Caroline's was."
"Really?" Interesting. "What colors were yours?"
"Mine was white. And Caro's was yellow, I think. With some red."
"Oh."
"I wonder why that is."
"I do t—what are you watching?"
William eyed the television screen with disgust. On the program that was playing, a completely sloshed (completely fake, too, if you know what I mean) bleached blonde was chugging beer straight from the keg. People around her chanted drunkenly, and then erupted into applause as she topped off and belched loudly.
All and all, delightfully wholesome entertainment.
"Don't you just love reality shows?" Charles asked with a wry grin. He changed the channel to a show they both enjoyed, one about building and restoring classic cars.
"So… no hard feelings about the Bennet sisters coming over?" Charles asked almost sheepishly. William waved his question away with his hand.
"Whatever."
"Try," Charles entreated earnestly. William turned to look at him, but Charles's eyes were trained on the television. "You never know what may happen."
William turned his attention back on the screen.
Later that evening, Charles happened upon William in the kitchen. The dark-haired Mr. Darcy was doubled over, peering into the large oven where a cake was happily baking, completely oblivious to its baker's anxiety.
"What's that?" Charles asked.
"A cake," William said, standing up and facing Charles. "For tomorrow."
"Awww," Charles cooed, "you made them a cake!"
William rolled his eyes.
"Well, you know." He shrugged. "I have to make things right. It's a token of apology."
"Hey, I have an idea!" Charles declared brightly. "We should get candy hearts! And when you frost it, you can stick 'em on top…"
"Please tell me you're not suggesting what I think you are."
Charles wiggled his eyebrows. William let out a groan.
"Please just stop talking."
"Whatever." Charles looked past Will to the baking workstation. He rose a brow. "Did you go out?"
There seemed to be a good deal of 'cake' supplies, from boxes of mix to frosting tubes. Someone went a bit overboard.
"Hm? Yeah. This is a special cake, Charles. I want it to turn out well."
"Sure." Charles could understand it, somewhat. Will was a perfectionist in everything he did, especially when dealing with important things. And this was most definitely an important thing. Charles knew William hated to admit he was wrong, and even when he knew he was, it took a great deal for him to concede to the fact. The fact that he was going all out and making a cake signified William's repentance and willingness to make amends.
This was not just a cake. Oh, no—it was much more than that.
"I'm sure it's gonna be great," Charles said, sitting down on one of the stools stationed at the island. Then his expression changed as a new thought occurred to him. "Hey—have you seen Caroline anywhere?"
William thought.
"Not since she left this afternoon, no. You think she's still out?"
At this particular moment in time, Caroline Bingley chose to materialize in the doorway.
"What is that smell?" she asked. She looked from man to man. They were surprised to see she wore the same clothes as the last time they saw her (she was constantly changing outfits; "fashion changes all the time, why shouldn't I?"). They recovered far more quickly this time around, however.
"Will is making a cake," Charles told her happily.
"A cake?" she asked with surprise. "I didn't know you were a baker."
"Eh… I just follow the instructions on the box, really."
She chuckled tiredly at this.
"You okay, Caro?" Charles asked, eyeing her with concern. "You look exhausted."
She flicked a mildly annoyed glance his way.
"Gee, thanks," she said sarcastically. "It's just been a long day. I'm famished." She sat down at the marble-topped island next to her brother.
"There are some of those watercress tea sandwiches you like in the fridge," Will offered helpfully. She let out an unladylike snort, another first.
"Please. I've worked hard today. I need some real food."
Would she never cease to surprise them?
"Ah… what do you a taste for?"
She shrugged.
"Anything."
William looked at her like a child shown something amazing.
"Even pizza?"
"Let's not get crazy, now, Wills."
Ah. So there was a bit of Caroline in there, after all. They were beginning to worry.
"What about Chong's, that nice Chinese food place down at the town square? They deliver."
Caroline eyed him warily. He shook his head.
"Don't worry," he assured her, "it's not the greasy Americanized stuff that most places serve. This is real Chinese food, and quite delicious if I say so myself."
This seemed to satisfy Caroline, who hadn't broken herself of the habit of relying on what Mr. Darcy said, thought, felt, etc. Charles procured a menu from one of the infinite amount of drawers within the kitchen and placed it before Caroline. She scanned it. Her eyes greedily ingested each dish title, as if they alone could give her sustenance. She pointed to a few and Charles grabbed a phone to dial the number on top of the menu.
"So Wills," Caroline asked, now that the job of selecting her meal was done. "Why are you making a cake? Couldn't the cook have done it?"
"It's a, ah, special cake," he said, highly aware that if things proceeded the way he thought they would, he would be treading on dangerous ground.
"Oh?" She cocked a brow.
"Yeah… it's for the, uh, Bennet sisters."
As expected, she bristled. The two men waited with bated breath, anxious of her next action. The dial tone coming from the telephone did nothing to decrease the tension.
"Ah," she finally said. Charles exhaled, relief clear on his face, and proceeded to order.
Ah? Ah? That was all she could come up with? William's mind reeled. All through last week, Caroline had made it abundantly clear that she disliked all Bennets (even if Jane was a sweet girl. Eliza was no longer tolerable). She seized every opportunity to berate and abuse them—and now all she said was "ah?"
Ah!?
What was wrong with her? First dressing normally, then eating a real meal, and now this? What was the world coming to!?
William would have liked to take off his hat in front of her, see what she had to say about that! At the rate things were going, he would expect her to congratulate him warmly and ask for him to save a dance for her at the wedding.
Whoa. Wait. Wedding?
William's highly active imagination got the better of him, and his mind sped along, flashing stills of a glorious wedding with the lovely Miss Bennet before his eyes.
He felt a quivering between his hat and his head, and heard a faint popping noise.
He was not the only one who heard it. Charles recognized it for what it was and looked at him questioningly. Caroline, however, did not.
"What was that?" she asked.
"What was what?" Charles responded innocently.
"That pop." She looked to Will. "Did you hear it?"
William struggled to appear nonchalant. He shrugged.
"I have no idea what you're talking about."
She appeared confused for a moment, but shrugged, evidently letting it go.
"So Caro, where've you been all day?" Charles asked, changing the subject. An unreadable look crossed her features before she smiled slightly.
"I've been taking voice lesions, you know, Charles," she said. "Is there anything to drink, Will?"
Mr. Betty Crocker. He had officially been dubbed the unofficial Food Man. He cursed the apron he wore.
"Ah… yeah," he said. "Water, juice, soda, you name it."
"Water please."
William fixed the woman a cup even as Charles exclaimed, "Really, Caroline?" He had been completely ignorant of this fact up until this point. "That's great! I remember you always loved to sing… although you gave it up these past few years. What got you interested again?"
"I saw a flyer downtown last week when I was shopping. Do you know who's in town?" Her eyes sparkled. "Erik. The Erik! And he's giving voice lessons! Granted, his prices are exorbitant, but what's money compared to the tutelage of Erik?"
Darcy looked at her in surprise.
"Erik, as in, the ridiculously wealthy and mysterious composer?" he asked.
"The very one!" she cried. "Who knew he'd be holed up somewhere like here!"
"So did you get to see him?" Charles asked eagerly. The ridiculously wealthy and mysterious composer was just that—ridiculously wealthy, but more importantly ridiculously mysterious. There were absolutely no photos of him anywhere, ever. Not even on the internet. All of his information was secret, for that matter—his full name, where he lived, his history, even his birthday. Any insight on the man was duly treasured.
Caroline's smile faded.
"Yes," she said simply. There was something decidedly off about her. The pregnant pause which followed told the males that she was not going to elaborate, and that there was much elaboration she was able to do.
"Well?" Charles pressed, a bit hesitantly. Something clicked inside his sister and her eyes grew cold and hard. Familiar territory.
"Well what?" she asked, her voice flinty. Scratch that. This was Anger they were being faced with. They had seen many negative emotions within Miss Caroline Evangeline Bingley, including anger, but never Anger. This was dangerous.
"What… well, what does he look like?" Charles thought his question perfectly innocent, but could see that it wasn't necessarily so.
"What does it matter?" Caroline snapped.
Both men exchanged glances, clearly taken aback at Caroline's sudden hostility. There was underlying confusion, as well—Caroline loved to gossip, and this was gold. Mr. Mysterious Unmasked. Why wasn't she recounting her encounter with malicious glee?
Nothing made sense anymore.
The doorbell rang, echoing throughout the house and breaking the tension.
"Food is here," Charles announced, his brow smoothing and his tone thick with relief. Before William could offer to go get it, Charles was out of the room.
William and Caroline endured a tense silence.
"You okay, Caroline?" he asked, the softness in his tone surprising even himself.
"I'm fine." Caroline's voice was hard and steely.
Charles quickly came back, bags of food in his hands.
"So who's hungry?" he asked brightly, appearing to have forgotten his sister's lashing out. Caroline eyed the bags with longing. Just as Charles was setting plates down at the island, the oven let out a candid ding.
"Well what do you know," Will said to himself. "Cake's finished."
He grabbed his oh-so-manly floral oven mitts and a toothpick. Then he opened the oven, the hot air billowing out and almost singing the ends of his hair, and tested the cake for doneness.
"You want some, Will?" Charles asked, referring to the Chinese food. Caroline was already eating gratefully. She looked as if she hadn't had something as fulfilling in years. Will realized sadly that she probably hadn't.
"No, I'm good," he replied. "I gotta work on this cake, anyway."
"Sure, sure." Charles bit into an egg roll.
William took the two cakes out of the oven and set them on the stovetop to cool. It would take a while, he though. In the meantime, he'd mix the frosting.