A/N—Once again, thank you for the reviews. They keep me writing. :D Here's a bit more insight on the heart, as well as the appearance of someone you know we ALL want to see… if only for the satisfaction of throttling him. ;D
Day 4
William Darcy looked at himself in the mirror. Technically, though, that statement is only partially true—he did not look at himself, per se, but at the heart floating above his head. It was now roughly the size of one of those small, collectable toy cars. Continuing to hide it beneath a baseball cap would prove to be difficult if it kept growing at the rate it was going.
How big did they grow, anyway? He knew next to nothing about the things, aside from what he had been briefly taught during the fifth grade, and he had long forgotten that. Of course, he could always ask the internet—but the internet was full of lies. And misinformation. Especially with so delicate a subject? He couldn't trust it as far as he could throw it, which pretty much meant he couldn't trust it at all, seeing as how one can't physically throw the internet.
He pondered as he stared at it, his brow unconsciously furrowing, making him look like a great philosopher deep in thought.
The hearts were obviously tied to emotions. Therefore, it would not be wrong to assume that a psychiatrist would be knowledgeable on the subject. He encountered a problem: there were no psychiatrists around, not here.
He decided that, instead, he would ask a doctor. Close enough, right?
He decided to walk.
The local clinic was not that far from Netherfield, after all, and the fresh air would do him good, especially after being cooped up in the house for nearly a fortnight. He set off at a leisurely pace—it was only about eight o'clock, and walk-ins were admitted until ten.
After about five minutes, he felt his right pocket vibrate. He carelessly extracted the cause of the vibration—his cell phone—from said pocket and flipped it open without so much as looking at the caller ID.
"Hello?"
A moment passed before a voice on the other side of the line spoke.
"Hello, I'm looking for Mr. William Darcy?"
William rolled his eyes. He knew that voice.
"This is he," he answered.
"Mr. Darcy, my name is Richard Fitzwilliam and I'm calling from the Boring World of Business. We have a very special offer for you today, and if you wouldn't mind, this will only take a few minutes—"
"I'm not interested," he said with a wry grin.
"But sir, we're offering our Premium Money-Savers Package! Order now and you'll receive not one, but two orders of Useless Items for three easy payments of 19.95!"
"So we've gone from telemarketing to an As Seen On TV ad?"
William was met with a laugh.
"I wouldn't know," Richard replied. "I never pick up for them, and if I do, I don't stay on long past the greeting."
"I wouldn't know either. You may be perfectly right in your impression."
Richard laughed.
"How are you, Will?"
"Fine. I'm walking to the doctor's office."
"Eh? If you're fine, why are you walking to the doctor's? Don't tell me you got sick on your vacation!"
"No, I'm not sick."
"No? Did someone else get sick?"
"Yes, but that was two weeks ago. She's feeling much better now."
There was a pause.
"You're confusing me now, Will."
William grinned.
"I'm sorry you can't keep up with my brilliant mind."
"Yeah, well, my mind isn't wired to receive telekinetic messages. Or to communicate with other species, either, for that matter."
"What are you trying to say?"
"Shouldn't you know, O Intelligent One?"
William chuckled.
"How are things going at the firm?" he asked his cousin. He was answered with a sound that was half sigh, half groan.
"Are you kidding me, Will?" The cell phone's tiny speaker did nothing to filter out the exasperation evident Richard's voice. "You are supposed to be on vacation. You're not even supposed to be thinking about the firm!"
"I apologize."
"No, you don't."
"I said I apologize, I didn't say I was sorry."
"Touché."
"Well?"
"For your information, we are doing fine without you directing everything we do, and doing whatever else CEOs do all day. You know, besides sitting in a posh, top-floor apartment-like office and having your secretary fill out all your paperwork. You can stop crying, now."
"Hey!" William protested with a laugh. "I read and sign nearly all those papers myself, you know!"
"Oh, I know. Believe me, I know. How many times have you refused to go out and have drinks with me and the guys because you 'had to fill out paperwork'?"
"And yet you claim that's just an excuse."
"It is, but that doesn't mean it's an empty one. Face it, Darcy—you are an antisocial workaholic."
"No, I'm not."
"Yes, you are."
"I am not!"
"You prefer the society of paperwork to that of your fellow human beings!"
"I thought we established earlier in this conversation that I am not a human being."
There was another pause.
"How do you always do that?" Richard asked after a moment.
"Do what?"
"Best me."
"A master never reveals his secrets."
William was suddenly struck with the oddest sense of déjà vu.
"But honestly, Will," Richard continued, "when was the last time you had fun?"
"Yesterday!" he answered defensively.
"Oh really?" The flatness in Richard's voice bespoke his skepticism. "What did you do?"
"If you must know, I played some games."
"Games."
"Yes."
"With who?"
"Elizabeth Bennet." William could almost hear one of his cousin's eyebrows quirking. William paused, realizing that he had forgotten two other names, and was horrified when he came across the possibility that Richard, ever the playboy, could have severely misconstrued that statement. He blushed hotly and managed to add, in a surprisingly steady voice, "And Charles, and Charles's new lady-friend, Jane."
"Hmmm," was Richard's response.
William did not like the sound of that 'Hmmm.' It implied too many things. He grew wary.
"E-li-za-beth Ben-net," Richard repeated, testing out each syllable of her name. Without ceremony, he then asked, "So, when are you gonna ask her out?"
William balked.
"What!?" he shouted, causing more than a few passers-by to look his way. He reddened again. "What—what—what makes you say that?"
Richard laughed heartily on the other side of the line.
"Your reaction is priceless! Admittedly, it was a bit of a shot in the dark, but I did suspect something when you didn't immediately start listing her flaws. You forget, Will, we grew up together. I know you. She really must be something to have caught your interest!"
William stammered protest after protest, but somehow Richard managed to extract some details about Miss Bennet, and in due course was even so successful as to get William to relate the whole of their acquaintance. Eventually, the words were flowing so freely that, to Richard's delight, William even unwittingly related a few sentiments that he had meant to keep secret.
Thus, Mr. Darcy was charmingly engaged until he reached the clinic.
"Rich, I'm here; I have to let you go."
"Oh. Alright."
Just as Darcy was about to end the call, he heard Richard cry out, "Wait!"
"What?"
"You still haven't told me why you're going to the doctor's."
"Oh." William shrugged, completely disregarding the fact that his cousin could not see the gesture over the phone. "I have a few questions I'd like to ask experienced medical personnel."
"And you couldn't have just used Wikipedia?"
"I really have to go."
William could almost see Richard throwing his hands up in frustrated defeat.
"Fine! Fine. Talk to you later, then."
"Alright."
"Bye."
"Bye."
Will slipped the cell phone back into his pocket as he entered the clinic. He purposefully made his way to the window and proceeded to arrange his affairs. Then, he quietly sat down in the nearly unoccupied waiting room.
He looked around. Everything was blue. The carpet, the seat cushions, the walls, even most of the magazines and pamphlets neatly displayed on a little table in the corner. There was also an aquarium along the far wall.
He noted these things with distant amusement. He had once read, in two separate accounts, that the color blue had a calming effect on people, and that doctors and dentists typically put aquariums in waiting rooms because watching the fish help people relax. With so much of both, he mused silently, one would expect patients to be practically sedated for their appointments.
As he studied a sign printed on an 8 ½" by 11" sheet of white paper taped on the wall that said "NO FOOD, NO DRINK, NO CELL PHONES," and had appropriate images of each, a woman in her late thirties walked into the room with a child in tow. His attention turned to the child as she sat in a seat not far from his own and pulled out a music player while her mother set up an appointment. Darcy watched her for a moment.
She couldn't have been older than thirteen, and although she had the tell-tale flushed, glassy-eyed look of a sick child, she wore an unabashedly large grin. One would think a kid would try to play it up, William thought, to get out of school for a few extra days. Here she was humming like she hadn't a care in the world.
The tune she hummed caught his ear. He knew it, he was sure. Where had he heard it before…?
Obligingly, the girl began to sing softly after a few moments. Her mother sat down next to her and the girl smiled at the woman before resuming her performance.
"Give 'em the old razzle dazzle," she sang, "razzle dazzle 'em…"
Ah, yes. It was probably from one of those musicals his sister Georgie made him watch a few days before he left. He couldn't remember which one the song came from. He remembered the tune well enough, though, and his mind filled in all the instruments that supported the melody.
"Give 'em an act with lots of flash in it, and the reaction will be passionate—" She stopped abruptly, noticing his curious gaze, and dropped her eyes, blushing. She may have been discouraged from singing, but she decided that humming was a perfectly acceptable way to pass her time.
The song continued on in his head. It only played momentarily, however, as his name was called and his attention was diverted.
"Down the hall, the first door on your left," the woman at the desk said, pointing the way. "Dr. Cooper will be in to see you shortly." William thanked her and walked over to the designated room.
Before he even had a chance to acquaint himself with his new surroundings, a man in his late fifties poked his head into the room and knocked on the already open door. William turned around and the doctor smiled politely before stepping in and closing the door.
Wow. When people in this town said shortly , they meant shortly.
"Mr. Darcy?" the doctor inquired, adjusting his glasses. William nodded his head in acknowledgement. "I'm Dr. Cooper. What brings you here today?"
William frowned and took off his hat. Immediately, the doctor's weathered face broke into a heartfelt smile that was only slightly tinged with amusement.
"I have some… questions about this, sir," he answered, at first a bit ashamedly. His tone strengthened near the end of his declaration, however, following his spur-of-the-moment resolve to conduct things in a professional and businesslike manner. At least he would have some semblance of dignity throughout this… discussion.
"Alright then," Dr. Cooper said. "Go right on ahead."
William briefly contemplated where to start. After a short moment, he began.
"Is there a name for this?"
'Floating Candy Hearts' just didn't seem scientific enough, oddly.
"Sure, sure," the doctor responded, "although many people don't really call it anything—indelicacy and all that."
William nodded. Figured.
"But for the sake of record-keeping, we call it Gymnopathia cordis. It's from both Greek and Latin, meaning 'exposed emotion' and 'heart'."
Huh. Fitting.
"Next?"
"How long do they usually last?"
"Oh, depends on the person." Dr. Cooper looked at him above the frame of his spectacles. "It can last days, weeks, months, years, entire lifetimes, even. As long as the feeling's there, the heart'll be there, too."
"So, is there any way to hide it or repress it or something?"
"Unfortunately, son, the only way to 'hide' it is to fall out of love with the girl."
The word love jarred William. Sure, he had known that the hearts were indicative of first love, but the word 'love' was so bandied around nowadays. He'd always minded it as an infatuation, something easily overcome, but to hear it linked to the word 'love' coming from a doctor made him just a little bit jittery.
"Love, sir?" he asked. "Is it not just infatuation?"
"Let me tell you something, Mr. Darcy," the doctor began frankly, although not wholly impolitely. "Emotions are complicated. That's why us men can't for the life of us figure out women, because they're governed by emotion, but that's not the point here. The point is that no one can really separate 'infatuation' from 'affection' from 'love' or whatever else label you want to give it."
"I, ah… I understand," William said, quite looking as though he'd swallowed some huge, foul-tasting pill. When his expression cleared, he continued. "How large can they get, typically?"
"Relatively, not much larger than your palm. The numerical range is anywhere from three to six inches, and can grow up to two inches thick. Just a bit bigger than can be comfortably hidden beneath a baseball cap."
Dr. Cooper threw a pointed look at Darcy, who felt his cheeks heat up a bit.
"And color?" Will pressed on. "Does color have any significance?"
"Typically, color determines the nature of the—" he paused for emphasis, giving him a meaningful look, "—infatuation. I can't remember exactly what each color means at the moment, since it's technically not medically relevant, but I'm sure I can find you an informative brochure or something, if you'd like."
William inclined his head.
"Thank you, I would like that."
The amusement returned to the doctor's eyes.
"Granted, they are mostly geared to the, er… younger generation, but the information in them is useful nonetheless."
Darcy nearly winced. He felt a bit foolish, a grown man standing in a doctor's office asking questions about a normally adolescent experience. Up until then, he had never felt strange about it being his first time, but now he felt it acutely, as if he were an outsider or some sort of freak.
He inadvertently likened it to being the new kid at school. Foreign. Alien. Something to stare at and whisper about.
A human anomaly.
His brow creased slightly. Perhaps he was regressing. Such emotions seemed adolescent enough, as though he should have left the likes of them behind during those awkward years.
He flicked his gaze from the doctor to the crown molding and back. It was as close to shaking his head free of his musings as he would get when in the presence of that man.
He shrugged lightly.
"Is there anything else you would like to know?" the doctor asked. William thought.
"Why are they edible?"
Dr. Cooper laughed.
"That I cannot answer," he replied. "It's a question that has baffled doctors and scientists alike for hundreds of years. And I can't say exactly how they come about, either," he continued, even as William opened his mouth to ask the question. "How is one to explain the spontaneous appearance of a candied heart above one's head, ever? It's a question all the great thinkers are puzzling over."
"Oh." William found himself at a loss. He couldn't think of any more questions to ask the obliging doctor, although he knew he had more. He should've made a list. Lists were always helpful.
"Well, then… I suppose that's it," he finished lamely. The doctor smiled.
"Alright, then," he said. "I'll just go get a few of those informational pamphlets and you can be on your way."
He walked out of the room. William waited patiently for the few minutes Dr. Cooper was gone. With his mind idle, the show tune crept back into his immediate consciousness.
The doctor returned shortly, three brightly colored pamphlets in hand. Will thanked him as he took them. He glanced down and saw that on the front of the first one, three smiling young teenagers stood facing the fourth wall, each with differently colored hearts above their heads. He stifled the urge to sigh.
He felt fourteen again. And not in a good way.
William absently hummed as he walked back to Charles's house. He was beginning to grow annoyed. It wasn't as if he disliked the song that had oh-so-considerately lodged itself into his skull. He just wished it would stop repeating itself over and over and over and over again in his head.
He didn't even know all the words to the stupid song. Give 'em the old razzle dazzle, razzle dazzle 'em… something, something… something, and… something about sequins. It was quite maddening.
He walked on, through the heart of town. He quietly observed the variety of shops and the people that flitted in and out of them. Two such people caught his eye and he immediately stopped. He felt the color drain from his face.
But that infuriating song played on in his head.
Elizabeth Bennet walked on, a smile on her face and a cup of what appeared to be coffee in her hand, completely oblivious to Will's presence. Her companion, however, caught sight of him and froze.
George Wickham stared at William Darcy. William Darcy gave George Wickham the dirtiest glare he could muster. Wickham had the decency to look just a little bit nervous.
Lizzy stopped, noticing that George had stopped also, and looked back at him questioningly. She followed his gaze and was surprised to find Darcy standing across the street looking positively murderous. She gave him a small, confused wave.
He turned and fled.
As he stalked off, the words of the song came back to him in a moment of clarity.
Give 'em the old razzle dazzle
Razzle dazzle 'em
How can they see with sequins in their eyes?*
*Razzle Dazzle (c) Kander and Ebb, and all the other Chicago people.
R&R! ...please?