Chapter Eight: Good Night, or Rather, Good Morning
She had gotten into that black limo car – mind you, not the stretch limousine kind – tossed her dark gold hair, and didn't look back. The car swerved away, and the license plate was too far away for him to see. He tried to get to her, but his tears clouded his eyes. He rushed in through the door to dial the cops, but…but…he collapsed on the floor. He watched the phone drop onto the tile next to him, only a few inches out of reach. He was an inch away, but the pain in his side told him to hold back. He tried sliding towards the phone, about to dial, when…darkness.
Darcy woke up with a start, face sweaty, eyes tearing up. Georgiana! Where was she? Was she alive? Why did she leave? Well, he already knew that answer. His head spinning, he fell back upon his pillows and drifted into another nightmare…
"I'm not a child anymore, Wills! It's not like I'm ten. I'm fifteen and you can't just tell me what to do. You're not even my dad. I'm going to see my friends, and there's nothing you can do about it!"
"Yes I can. I'm you're legal guardian, Georgiana. You have to listen to me. It's my rules or you go and live with Aunt Catherine."
"No! I'm going to Jenny's house instead! She has parents who actually like me! I'll stay there; they said I'm always welcome!"
"Georgie, you know that won't happen!" he was losing his patience. "Besides, I have to give you permission before you go live with someone else."
"You know what!? You are so insensitive!"
"No I'm not! I'm just being responsible!"
"You can't just control my life!" with that, Georgiana ran, grabbed her bag (already packed), and slammed the door of her house and after, William reflected, frowning at the oddity, the passenger door of the Lexus.
"I never got to tell her I loved her, and I never got to say goodbye!" William Darcy woke again, a broken sobbing mess.
~*~*~*~
Bonnie Younge was chain smoking tonight, as she couldn't sleep. She had way too much on her mind. The destruction of William Darcy was at the forefront, and the manipulation of Lydia Bennet was another. She got away with staging Georgiana's disappearance "death," but she had to find the actual girl and eliminate her before someone else found out who she was. If she could hold Georgiana for ransom, which could be pretty nice too…, then she could get a fabulously wonderful sum to add to the tons she already extracted from the Darcy Empire. But first, she had to get to Lydia, get her onto the evil seed she was growing. Lydia would be the best pawn she ever had, better than her love, George. Because Lydia did not have remorse, and Lydia had insiders like Caroline Bingley eating out of her hand.
~*~*~*~
Lizzy was having a sleepless night as well. She was forced to stay at Bingley's because Jane looked like she was faring worse, and by the time she seemed okay it was 2 am and unsafe to drive home. Her insomnia was more motivated by confusion and thought than by nightmare and sorrow. She kept thinking about Lydia, and what she implied. Why would Lydia be threatening her? What was her motive? Did she have a motive? She sighed, heavily. She rolled over. How did that girl get those clothes? Friendship with Caroline Bingley wouldn't cut it; she stated at that party that she was saving a custom Vera for her wedding – that means that Charles is "trying" to curb her spending. She smirked at Charles' failure. Even so, Caroline isn't that selfless – and doesn't have the style. Lydia must have a new source of income, but what? It couldn't be drugs, because Lydia is too obsessed with her body to do such a thing. And since when did Lydia use big words? Ack! This was getting way too confusing for Lizzy's liking. She got out of bed and began to walk down the hall to the bookshelves in the Bingley's living room.
~*~*~*~
William punched his pillow, one, two, five times. He groaned, and got himself out of bed, clutching his head. He felt like he was hung over and like he was beaten up by a whole slew of gang members, even though he was stone cold sober and he hadn't gotten into a physical fight since his teenage years. Defeated, he trudged to the bathroom, and collapsed on the floor.
The resounding bang caught Lizzy off-guard, and the moans of pain alerted her that she was not in danger, but that someone indeed needed her help. She didn't think the person collapsed upon the bathroom floor would be William Darcy, however. She eased open the bathroom door carefully and quietly, to survey the damage. She gasped.
He was sprawled, spread-eagled, on the tile floor. Lizzy's eyes traced his muscular yet lean figure and rested upon the man's face. He had a straight, almost noble nose, beautifully sculpted cheeks, and a full-lipped-yet-masculine mouth. He wasn't bleeding where he hit his head, thank goodness, and his dark curls framed his head like a dark halo of an angel. The pale and injured man looked bruised, weak, helpless yet strong, ethereal yet earthly. He drew her to him with his eyes, pleading for help yet not wanting to be helped. Lizzy went to help him – he seemed absolutely…wait. Déjà vu?! She shrugged it off, and went to aid her new patient.
"William, can you hear me? You okay?"
"You called me William…" he smiled, dizzily.
"William, stay with me, are you all right?"
"Better, now you're here…"
"Darcy, tell me! What hurts?"
"My heart hurts. You stopped calling me William."
"Darcy, I will leave you if you don't stop fooling around. I'm trying to help you!"
"Can you help me stand?" he sounded defeated and injured.
"You sure?"
"Of course I am!"
"Okay…" Lizzy grabbed him by his upper arms to help him up. He groaned again, slipped a little, which forced Lizzy to put his arm around her shoulders and her arm around his waist. He stiffened for a moment, but then relaxed under her gentle touch. In a reverie, he reflected on what it would be like for them to be like this, in this pose in future moment, only with him less injured and her less exhausted. His love's gentle voice interrupted his dreamlike state, and he slowly became more lucid.
"You okay now? Let's walk you back to your room, unless…" she gestured to the toilet. He shook his head as vehemently as a dizzy person could. Lizzy grabbed a washcloth, turned the warm water faucet in the sink on, and soaked the cloth with the warm water. She gently patted Will's face and neck with the heated cloth and he sighed contentedly. Subconsciously, it didn't seem strange or creepy to her. Slowly and carefully, she helped him back into his bed and brought him a cup of tea and ice packs for the welt on his head and back. He didn't have a concussion, thank God I've had enough to deal with this month, she thought to herself.
After settled, Will asked:
"Do you have siblings? Other than Lydia, I mean."
"Yeah, well Lydia doesn't count anyway, but I have a brother named Daniel."
"How old?"
"Fifteen."
"Just as old as…"
"Who? Your sibling?"
"Yeah. Georgie." He stopped talking, not wanting to continue. Lizzy looked at him expectedly, but he didn't elaborate. Instead, he asked, "Why are you being so nice to me?"
"It's what you do. If someone is hurt, you help them. It's not like I'm just randomly bestowing acts of kindness or anything."
"Oh."
"Why did you fall?"
"I had a lot to think about."
"I'm assuming bad?" He nodded. "Well, do you want to talk about it?" He shook his head in the negative.
"Okay. So your sister, Georgie, what's she like?"
"Uh, well, she plays piano really well. She was going to go to Juilliard for music next year, early."
"Was? What do you mean?"
"I don't want to talk about it." I'd rather just look at you. His relaxed face tensed up into the inscrutable mask that was the face of Mr. Darcy of DarcyMed, rather than William, Charles Bingley's best friend.
"Okay, well, I'm always here if you need me..." Awkward silence permeated the air. "Well, I'm off to bed. Good night, or rather, good morning." Lizzy walked off before Darcy could respond.
He whispered, reverently, silently, to the empty, dark room, "Good morning, love."
A/N: Please, please, review so I can make it the best I possibly can and so I can have something to look forward to read!