Chapter 9 – Old and New Acquaintances
Sunday dawned bright and very hot; Eliza and Jane had stayed up quite late as Eliza told her sister all about George. Jane immediately predicted that Eliza might have boyfriend-material on her hands, but Eliza denied this, pointing out she had only just met him, and barely knew anything about him. She still couldn't believe she had invited him to dinner, considering her entire family and the whole neighborhood was going to be there – not terribly romantic. But Jane was right when she noted that it would be a nice, non-pressured atmosphere to get to know him a little better.
Eliza had to fight with herself to not ask Jane about Charles; she seemed cheerier than when they had left his apartment, and Eliza had (accidentally) overheard Jane talking to him on the phone Saturday afternoon. She was perplexed, to say the least, but took her cue from Jane and didn't talk about it.
Around four o'clock, Jane and Eliza started to get ready for the party. Eliza spent much longer than usual in front of her closet, until finally Jane reached in for her and pulled out one of her favorite dresses, a v-neck chocolate brown silk dress, with an empire waist and ruffled skirt. Eliza took the dress and thanked her sister; it had been a long time since Eliza had put so much thought into an outfit for the mere purpose of a man. It was unsettling and thrilling at the same time.
Jane and Eliza helped each other with their hair; Jane looked stunning as usual in a cerulean strapless silk dress, with her hair swept up. Eliza curled her hair more than usual, and by the time they were ready to leave, was actually quite pleased with her appearance. Unfortunately, so was Tom, who had somehow wheedled his way into coming with them.
"Eliza, you look ravishing," he rhapsodized the moment she walked downstairs.
"Thank you," she answered shortly.
"Of course, tonight is very important, indeed. Sir Darcy, Lady Catherine's nephew will be there," he said, unable to contain his excitement.
Eliza groaned; she had completely forgotten. She was quite sure that Tom just waltzing up to Sir Darcy and introducing himself would only incur Darcy's resentment and contempt, although for once she wouldn't blame him.
"Oh… well I've already met him," she told Tom.
"I know, I'm quite jealous. Do tell me about him… although I'm sure I'll be able to pick him out in any crowd! How dignified and distinguished he must be, being Lady Catherine's nephew."
"Yes, he does rather stick out," Eliza said sarcastically. Tom only laughed.
Soon the entire family, including Mr. Bennet and Tom, squeezed into the car and set off for their aunt's, who lived about fifteen minutes away in an amazingly beautiful home on the beach. The street was filled with cars by the time they got there, so they parked about a block away and walked to the house. Mr. and Mrs. Phillips, Mrs. Bennet's sister and her husband, had moved into this brick mansion about five years ago. They had no children, so most of the rooms in the house were rarely used except for the many dinner parties Mrs. Phillips liked to throw.
The house was full when they entered; a quick look around proved that neither George nor the Bingleys and Darcy were there, however. The Bennets broke up and Eliza scurried away from Tom and went to find Charlotte.
"Seriously, Lizzie, you have to try these shrimp," Charlotte said several minutes later after they had been talking about the party and what people were wearing.
Eliza didn't answer; she was too busy arching her neck to look at the door.
"Lizzie, why do you keep looking at the door? Who are you waiting for?" Charlotte asked suspiciously.
"Oh, just… someone I invited," Eliza muttered, suddenly kicking herself for not giving George her phone number so he could at least call if he got lost.
"Would this someone happen to be a male someone?" Charlotte asked.
Eliza blushed, and that was all the reply Charlotte needed.
"Lizzie, you invited a guy to your aunt's dinner party?" she cried.
"Well, I don't know… it just sorta came out," Eliza said, finally tearing her eyes away from the door.
"That's fantastic!" Charlotte said. "Does Tom know?" she asked, mock seriously.
Eliza laughed. "Oh, he'll be heartbroken, I'm sure."
She spent the next few minutes fielding questions about George from Charlotte, who agreed that he sounded just like Eliza's type. She was just about to ask whether Eliza planned on introducing George to Tom when the door opened; Eliza whipped around, but her heart fell a little when she saw only Charles, his sisters, and, of course, Darcy. Unlike the last time they were guests at a neighborhood party, the other guests didn't take much notice of them entering, although Charles was warmly greeted by several people as he made his way through the crowd. Upon seeing Eliza, he smiled genially as usual and asked if she knew where Jane was. She told him the last she saw Jane, she was outside on the deck. He thanked her and immediately went out to the porch. Caroline and her sister found themselves an empty corner, and Darcy seemed very much stuck as he stood by himself at the bar. Eliza considered him for a moment; when Jane had left Charles' upset, she had been rather quick to blame him for Jane and Charles' apparent relationship troubles, but now that they seemed back on track, she wasn't sure what to think of him. Perhaps he had brought about the trouble, but Charles decided on his own to go back to Jane. Perhaps Darcy had had nothing to do with it… perhaps Charles wasn't as in love with Jane as Eliza had liked to think. And, of course, perhaps it was none of her business.
Just then Charlotte was summoned by her father; giving Eliza a quick sympathetic look, Charlotte left Eliza to stand by herself. Eliza sighed and was pondering her next course of action when her eyes suddenly met Darcy's. He gave her slight nod of acknowledgement, and she was about to do the same when she saw Tom appear at Darcy's shoulder. Her stomach fell as she watched Tom clear his throat loudly behind Darcy. Darcy, who was still looking Eliza's way, didn't seem to notice. Tom was not deterred, and cleared his throat again. This time, Darcy's brow furrowed and he turned away from Eliza, who, despite herself, moved closer in case Tom did or said something too ridiculous. Darcy had to look down at Tom, whose head barely came up to his shoulder.
"Can I help you?" Darcy asked, his voice full of that disdain Eliza hated so much.
"Forgive me, sir, for approaching you so boldly, but I must introduce myself. My name is Tom Collins," Tom proclaimed, extending his hand to shake. Darcy paused for what felt like several seconds, and then finally shook Tom's hand, albeit very quickly. Eliza just barely noticed a look of recognition in Darcy's eyes.
"Nice to meet you," he said shortly, beginning to turn away.
"Oh, the honor is all mine, sir. Your aunt speaks most generously of you," Tom went on. Darcy looked puzzled, and turned back to Tom.
"You know my aunt?" he queried.
"Oh yes! I thought you knew," Tom said, looking crushed for only a moment. "Lady Catherine is my patron, she funded my tuition at Yale Law."
"Ah," was Darcy's reply. "She is very generous."
"Oh yes, Lady Catherine is the most charitable. I have almost completed an internship, and this fall she has most kindly offered me an apartment in her building in Manhattan and a job at a prestigious law firm. I don't know where I would be without her!"
Darcy made no reply.
"And between us men, she has even recommended that I bring a lady friend with me when I move in," Tom went on. Eliza gasped and had to turn away; she suddenly had the horrible feeling that she was about to be dragged into this conversation.
"She has told me that marrying early is the best course of action, so that I don't have to be troubled by it later. I'm not entirely sure she'll approve, but my heart is rather set on Eliza there," Tom said.
And there it was. Eliza felt nauseous, not just from the idea of living with Tom, but the fact that he was willing to ask her even though Lady Catherine wouldn't "approve." Darcy was silent for a moment.
"Is that so," he then said, his voice flat.
"Yes. She's so very smart, and so beautiful, don't you agree?" Tom said. Eliza's face burned as Darcy remained silent again. Tom seemed to think he hadn't heard.
"Don't you agree she's beautiful, Sir Darcy?" he repeated. There was another pause.
"Yes, she is beautiful," Darcy finally said. Eliza almost turned around, so curious was she to see the look on his face. Was it her imagination, or had his voice suddenly become sincere? It had to be her imagination.
"Excuse me, Tim," Darcy said suddenly, and Eliza heard him walk away. She started to move, too, but Tom quickly caught up with her.
"My darling Eliza, I just met Sir Darcy. Oh, he's everything Lady Catherine said he would be… polite, noble, so well-spoken…"
As Tom rattled off Darcy's many attributes, Eliza tuned him out and sat down near the fireplace. To her considerable dismay, Mary was playing the piano and singing an Elton John song… although she was quite talented at the flute and violin, Mary was rather lacking when it came to both the piano and singing. Some people in the room were politely listening while others seemed to be talking loudly over her. Mary's flat voice carried over them nonetheless, and Eliza's discomfort was doubled when she saw Darcy standing in the doorway, his face expressionless as he watched Mary play. The party was fast becoming miserable for Eliza; first George not showing, then Tom embarrassing her to no end, and now this. When Darcy's eyes wandered over to her and Tom, she quickly avoided his gaze and jumped up. Leaving Tom on the sofa, she walked over to her father and politely interrupted his conversation.
"Dad, please stop Mary, she's only embarrassing herself," she quietly pleaded with her father. Mr. Bennet nodded and crossed over to the piano while Eliza went back to sit down. When she had played her last chord, Mr. Bennet stood next to Mary and began to clap fervently.
"Well done, Mary, well done, but let the professional play," Mr. Bennet said loudly, referring to the hired piano player in the next room. "You can play some more at home."
This was not exactly what Eliza had wanted her father to say, and sure enough, Mary burst into tears and ran out of the room. Mr. Bennet just smiled and laughed and rejoined his friend. Eliza slumped into the sofa as Tom continued to talk, suddenly wishing this party was over as soon as possible.
Darcy regretted his agreement to come to the Phillips' dinner party almost the moment he had entered their house. Charles ran off to find Jane, and Darcy was especially not in the mood to be around Caroline, who had secluded herself and her sister from the rest of the party. He was resigned to the fact that he would probably be standing by the bar by himself all night; letting his eyes roam, they not so unexpectedly fell on Eliza, who was standing by herself in the doorway. Her eyes met his, and he quelled the sudden jolt of excitement in his stomach and nodded to her. Instead of returning the nod, however, her eyes suddenly bulged slightly at something next to him. He frowned and was going to give her a questioning look when he heard a loud sound behind him, something like a cat hacking up a hairball. He turned slightly to find that most dreaded of creatures, the young man who had been glued to Eliza's side that night at Netherfield, staring up at him with avid excitement. Darcy looked down at him, for the man barely reached his shoulder, and furrowed his brow.
"Can I help you?" Darcy asked, disgusted with the man's inability to start the conversation himself.
The young man smiled, his head bobbing so enthusiastically it looked like it was about to fall off. "Forgive me, sir, for approaching you so boldly, but I must introduce myself. My name is Tom Collins," he said, extending his hand.
It was rather bold, and Darcy paused before shaking Tom's hand.
"Nice to meet you," he said shortly, and started to edge away, assuming the conversation was over.
"Oh, the honor is all mine, sir," Tom said loudly, trying to sidle up next to him. "Your aunt speaks most generously of you."
Darcy stopped, and turned back to Tom. "You know my aunt?" he asked, curious as to how so low a human could even cross his aunt's radar.
"Oh yes! I thought you knew," Tom said sadly, as if his hopes and dreams had been crushed. "Lady Catherine is my patron, she funded my tuition at Yale Law."
Ah, of course, his aunt had mentioned it. A young man she was breeding to eventually be Darcy's second-in-command. For the first time in his life, Darcy highly doubted his aunt's judgment.
"Ah," he said. "She is very generous."
"Oh yes, Lady Catherine is most charitable. I have almost completed an internship, and this fall she has most kindly offered me an apartment in her building in Manhattan and a job at a prestigious law firm. I don't know where I would be without her!" Tom exclaimed.
Where would any of us be without dear Aunt Catherine? Darcy thought sarcastically to himself. He trusted his aunt, of course, and loved her the proper amount, but he attempted to limit his time spent with her.
"And between us men, she has even recommended that I bring a lady friend with me when I move in," Tom went on. Darcy sighed; that certainly sounded like his aunt. She was still disappointed that he hadn't married Anne right out of college, and had only forgiven his two years of travel because of his father's death. But now, with only one year of his law school left, the pressure would be on.
"She has told me that marrying early is the best course of action, so that I don't have to be troubled by it later. I'm not entirely sure she'll approve, but my heart is rather set on Eliza there," Tom was saying.
This brought Darcy back the present. He almost laughed; Tom and Eliza? He had assumed, of course, that Tom was in love with her after the party at Netherfield, but he felt that Tom was in for a big disappointment if he asked Eliza to live with him. He may not know her that well, but Darcy knew her well enough to know that Eliza could never be with a man like Tom… he looked over to her; her back was to them, and she seemed to be looking nowhere in particular. He pictured her with Tom for a moment; the thought was beyond ridiculous, but it also made him beyond jealous.
"Is that so," he said flatly.
"Yes. She's so very smart, and so beautiful, don't you agree?" Tom said. Darcy didn't reply at first, suddenly jealous that Tom could just be open with his emotions and actually tell Eliza that he thought her smart and beautiful. Tom seemed to think he hadn't heard the question.
"Don't you agree she's beautiful, Sir Darcy?" he repeated.
Darcy turned his eyes once more to Eliza, still standing in her coffee-colored silk dress, and he just couldn't deny it.
"Yes, she is beautiful," he replied. Feeling Tom's hot breath on his fine suit, and thinking of him with Eliza, suddenly became a little too much for Darcy. Why was he standing here talking to this imbecile?
"Excuse me, Tim," he said curtly, and then left the living room. He crossed through the kitchen to stand outside on the deck; dusk was settling and the deck was nearly empty, save for a cluster of people a few yards away from him. In the middle stood Jane and Charles, surrounded by four young men and women. Charles seemed to have forgotten his purpose to get Jane alone to talk, and Jane, while not ignoring Charles, was paying more attention to the group. That was it, Darcy thought. He was sick of this, of giving Jane the benefit of the doubt. She was a nice girl, and probably meant no harm, but Charles couldn't stay here when she was so plainly not in love with him. Darcy would have to speak with him tomorrow, or tonight if he could.
Drifting back inside, Darcy caught a glimpse of Eliza sitting on a sofa next to Tom, who was talking nonstop. Eliza was sitting straight, looking away into the corner of the room. Darcy walked into the room, hanging back by the door frame, and it was all he could do to not walk right back out. One of Eliza's younger sisters was sitting at the piano, playing and singing rather awfully. Eliza was looking toward her with a mixture of alarm and pity on her face, paying no attention whatsoever to Tom. Darcy's insides cringed; he was almost thankful to the Bennets, for anytime he felt himself dangerously attracted to Eliza, they seemed to appear and remind him to put her out of his head.
Eliza suddenly stood and walked over to her father, who was standing by the window deep in conversation. Darcy watched her gently interrupt him and then whisper something in his ear; he nodded, and she returned to the couch. Mr. Bennet then walked over to the piano, and when the girl had played the last note, he clapped loudly, causing the room to watch him in hushed curiosity.
"Well done, Mary, well done, but let the professional play," Mr. Bennet said loudly, as the music from the hired piano player drifted in from the next room. "You can play some more at home."
The girl suddenly burst into tears and ran past Darcy and out the room. Mr. Bennet shrugged and laughed, returning to his friend. Darcy was appalled at his manners; he had been very insensitive to his own child, and didn't even seem to care. What was wrong with this family? Darcy looked back to Eliza, who was now slumped into the couch, her face hidden behind one hand. To his consternation, however, the more pressing question in his mind was how did a family so ill-mannered and uncouth produce such a smart, clever, and entirely knee-weakening daughter?
The party having already been ruined for her, Eliza found herself only slightly dismayed when Tom sat down next to her at the long dining table. She was very dismayed, however, when Darcy and the Bingleys sat down across from them. Caroline sat across from Eliza, and gave her a vile smile as Darcy poured her some wine. Before the food was served, Mr. Phillips stood up and offered a few words. As he sat down, however, Tom began to clap and stood up himself.
"Well-spoken, Mr. Phillips, well-spoken," Tom began to say. Eliza immediately grabbed his shirt and started tugging him down, but he just smiled down at her and raised his glass.
"I would like to propose a toast to such a fine gathering we have here tonight. We are truly honored, I must say, to have Sir William Darcy in our midst, a true nobleman who understands the importance of having family and friends."
Tom gestured with his glass to Darcy, whose eyes had narrowed slightly but was still expressionless. Tom cleared his throat and continued.
"Yes, family and friends, the most important element in our short, fleeting lives. We must cherish these moments, when we can all dine and be together, for you never know when it might be taken away. All we can do as mere mortals is enjoy our time on this lonely planet, and choose who we enjoy life with wisely. I myself believe I have chosen quite wisely, and my life shall be all the more enjoyable because of it," he said, and then turned and looked at Eliza significantly, producing gasps all along the table. Eliza couldn't help herself; she glared at Tom coldly, who for once seemed to take note of her, and turned away.
"So in conclusion, let me say, may your lives be prosperous and filled with joy. To friends and family!" he finished, raising his glass. Almost everyone else raised their glasses in bewilderment, clinked, and then drank. Eliza was still glaring at Tom, and out of the corner of her eye she could see Caroline and her sister nearly doubled over with laughter. Darcy, she noticed, raised his glass, but downed it in nearly one gulp. When Tom finally sat down, he grinned and patted Eliza's hand. Eliza just stared hard at her plate until the food was finally served.
The pain caused by Tom's speech was slowly ebbing away as Eliza tucked in to her aunt's fabulous food, but her relief was short-lived. Not halfway through the meal, her mother, who was seated some six or seven seats away, started talking to Mrs. Phillips. Her voice was so loud and edged with tipsiness that it carried quite far; Jane and Charles were seated a little farther down the table, and Eliza hoped beyond hope that they couldn't hear her.
"Oh yes, stayed in his apartment for several days… it was so generous of him. Of course, when you're as in love as he is with Jane, you'd do anything! So sweet he is, and oh, Betsy, you should see his apartment. And Netherfield! They are both so finely furnished… he had gold trim on his walls! Real gold! Can you imagine, Betsy, how rich he is? And to think he'll be my son-in-law!"
Eliza couldn't hide her emotion; she glared down the table at her mother, her eyes pricked with tears. She couldn't bear to shout down the table to tell her mother to shut up, but she also couldn't bear listening to her. When she finally took her eyes away from her mother, however, her humiliation increased tenfold. Caroline was staring at her mother, listening avidly, her mouth agape. Darcy was staring hard at his food, his face uneasy. It was all too much, and suddenly Eliza felt very much in danger of crying; finishing up her plate as quickly as she could, blocking every sound of her mother's voice, she stood up and pushed out her chair.
"Are you alright, Eliza?" Tom asked as she stood.
"I'm fine," she lied. Not bothering to tell him where she was going, she left the room as quickly and quietly as possible and ran out the front door. Once on the front porch, however, her composure broke, and she sank on the rocking chair and began to cry. She leaned forward and muffled her face on her knees; she hated feeling like this. She hated not being able to be proud of her own family, of being ashamed of them.
"Dammit, I knew I shouldn't have stopped to buy flowers."
A voice jerked Eliza out of her thoughts; looking up, she wiped her eyes quickly when she found George striding toward her, a large bouquet of flowers in his hand. She instantly smiled, and took a deep breath to calm herself. He sat down next to her and handed her the flowers.
"These are for you… I wanted to stop and get some but then I got lost. You know, you never gave me your phone number," he said, his blue eyes twinkling.
She laughed. "I know."
"I hope these tears aren't for me," he said, reaching over and brushing away the tearstains on her cheeks. "Eh, who am I kidding, I do hope they're for me."
She laughed again. "They're not… at least, not entirely. It hasn't exactly been the greatest party so far," she said with a wry smile.
"Well then, let's see if we can't make it better," he said, helping her up. They started to walk inside when he said, "This is a ridiculous house by the way."
She chuckled; the evening was looking up all of sudden. George asked the way to the bathroom, and she pointed him in the way of the one upstairs. Dinner was over and people had again spread throughout the house. Eliza hurried to put her beautiful flowers in a vase and set it directly in the middle of the living room. She then turned to go to the stairs and wait for George, but she was stopped by a most unusual sight. George was coming down the stairs, just as Darcy was walking by. He halted, however, in front of George. The two men looked at each other with icy glares; George seemed to say hello through tense lips, but Darcy made no answer and swept away. George seemed a bit shaken, and Eliza immediately hurried over, her curiosity piqued.
"I hate to be nosy, but what was that all about?" she said.
He smiled, but it was strained. "How well do you know Will Darcy?" he asked in turn.
"Not very well, but we all hate him," she said, not caring how harsh she sounded.
He looked around the crowded party, and then gestured to have her follow him upstairs. They walked up and into a deserted bedroom and sat on the bed.
"This may sound surprising, but Will and I have known each other since we were very young. We used to be like brothers," George began to say.
Eliza was surprised; what a small world, she thought ironically.
"My father was the elder Mr. Darcy's valet for many years. My mother died right after I was born, so it was just my father and me," George spoke fluidly, his eyes downcast. "When Mr. Darcy found out we were living in a rather squalid flat on the outskirts of town, he invited us to live at Pemberley, in the housekeeper's quarters." He paused, and a faint smile graced his face. "Mr. Darcy was such a generous man. He treated me like a second son… he sent me to the same boarding school as Will. We were roommates for many years, and – or so I thought – friends, as well. We attended Oxford together, and when we graduated I was to go to law school with Will here in New York. But then Mr. Darcy died, very suddenly, from a heart attack." He paused again, his lower lip quivering. Eliza laid her hand on his and squeezed. He smiled shakily and resumed his story.
"In his will, Mr. Darcy had stated very specifically that I was to go to law school and then get a job in the family firm, as well as take in a sizeable inheritance. But Will… I think he had always been jealous at the relationship I'd had with his father. He found a loophole in the will, and cut me off from the family entirely. I ended up having to scrape together whatever assets I could, and moved to London where I lived with a few mates for a while until I could earn enough money to move here. I thought perhaps I could talk Will into reconsidering, but I couldn't trust myself to face him. I've since heard he used the money set aside for me to go island hopping after university."
Eliza's heart could not help but break for this sad fellow, but it quickly turned to anger. Sure, she'd always found Darcy arrogant and irritatingly pompous, but she'd never truly found him heartless and cruel. Never again would she give him the benefit of the doubt; George's story only proved that Darcy's pride and his cruelty were one in the same. Obviously he just hadn't wanted George to be connected with his perfect, blue-blood family name, and didn't even think twice of cutting him off without a dime. She shook her head.
"I can't believe it," she finally said, still reeling. George laced her fingers in his own.
"You can ask him about it, he'd tell you the whole thing. If there's one thing Darcy is, it's an honest man. Not that that's necessarily a compliment," he said with a smile.
She chuckled. "Well, perhaps it's a good thing you didn't have to spend the rest of your life working with him," she said with an encouraging smile.
"I thank God for it every day."
Dinner was a most abysmal affair for Will. First came a horrifyingly embarrassing speech by Tom – his only comfort during it was that one look at Eliza's face confirmed his feeling that she would never accept Tom's offer to live with him. Then they had to sit through two courses worth of Mrs. Bennet's shrill voice going on and on about Charles and Jane. The woman actually thought they were going to get married! Darcy kept his eyes down, afraid to look up at that dreadful woman. Not until he heard the clattering of a chair did his eyes jerk upwards to find Eliza standing to leave the table. Her eyes were glistening and for a split second he instinctively nudged his chair back to stand as well. When Caroline hissed at him, he came to his senses and returned to the table, but by then Eliza had flown from the room.
By the time dessert came, he was wishing that he had left the table as well, if not to follow Eliza but just to leave. Tom, who had only been talking to Eliza before she left, took up her seat to be closer to Darcy, and insisted on engaging him in a rather one-sided, inane conversation. The moment his plate was taken away, Darcy left the table as quickly and politely as he could, hurrying into the living room, hoping to see Eliza. She wasn't there, and before long everyone else was streaming out of the dining room and piling into the living room. The room was becoming stuffy and hot, and Darcy strode out, hoping to go out onto the front porch to take a breather.
Will was walking by the stairs when he felt it. He couldn't even see his face, but Will knew the familiar surge of hot, molten hatred which immediately spread throughout his body whenever he was in close proximity to a one George Wickham. And before he knew it, there George was, right in front of him, casually walking down the stairs.
"Hello, Will," George said quietly, obviously taking note of the frigid glare Will fixed on him. Will stormed away, knowing that if he spent even another second in George's cursed company, he would not be able to control himself.
Will made it to the front porch before letting out his breath in one long, exasperated groan. What in bloody hell was George Wickham doing here? The one man he loathed above all others, the one person he could not control his emotions around. How dare he show up here! Had that been his purpose, to show up here just to torture Will? Because George Wickham knew that Will would never reveal the real reason he hated George Wickham to anyone… Will groaned again, because he knew that George was probably in there right now, charming everyone he met, and spinning his perfected web of lies, ensnaring anyone who would listen. For who would doubt such an innocent, handsome face? Especially when he was speaking ill of Will Darcy… Will knew he was greatly disliked here, and any incriminating evidence of his awfulness would probably be eagerly accepted.
Will leaned his long body against a post. He knew he should be content with knowing that at least he and those closest to him knew the truth, and that he most certainly should not care about what these people thought of him. With that comforting thought, he took a deep breath and returned inside.
To his surprise, George was not sitting in the middle of the room, telling his tall tales of Will's treachery to the whole party. In fact, he was nowhere to be seen. Although this was little comfort, Darcy was still somewhat relieved. He crossed the room and poured himself a glass of wine, and then set out to find Caroline. Somehow her company did not seem so terribly all of a sudden.
Darcy's spirits had been rising, albeit ever so slowly, until he walked out onto the back deck looking for Caroline. Suddenly the hot rage was surging again, with twice the force this time. George and Eliza were standing together by the rail; she was laughing and he had one hand on the small of her back. Will's hands shook – was this man out to poison everything he loved? he thought vehemently. Looking at the pair of them, he could barely stand the thought of Eliza being tricked into believing George's cruel falsehoods. He wanted to blame her, he wanted to finally be able to cast her off as a simpleton and ditz, but he knew George too well. Even the best of people, Will's father included, were constantly being sucked into George's suave, effervescent charms. He knew how to get people to love him, even if it meant tricking them into it. Will, on the other hand, only knew how to tell the truth. And that, he realized with a heavy heart, was why Eliza was over there with George and not with him.
George's company grew more addicting by the second. Eliza hadn't laughed so much in a long while, and it took them very little time to find out that they had several things in common, an obsessive love of Led Zeppelin being the least of them. Even when her sisters joined them, and several more people after that (no one could resist him), he still somehow managed to make Eliza feel like they were all alone. She hadn't felt so giddy and smitten since Edward Scissorhands had come out and she'd become infatuated with Johnny Depp.
When the party was over, and George had left, Eliza's head began to cool down enough to notice her sisters' smirks and teasing smiles. She blushed but deflected their questions; she and George were just friends, after all. This hadn't even been a proper date.
As the excitement of the night began to die down, Eliza couldn't wait to tell her sister all about George and Darcy. She felt a sort of vicious vindication at knowing her gut feeling about Darcy had been right all along, and couldn't wait to share it with Jane.
As was predicted, however, when Eliza and Jane were in their pajamas and Eliza had told her the whole horrid tale, Jane only sighed and shook her head.
"There must be a misunderstanding," Jane said in that maddeningly patient voice of hers. "I can't see Will doing something like that out of pure spite. Perhaps George did something to deserve it."
Eliza groaned and rolled onto her back. "Jane, think about it. Darcy hasn't been nice to a single soul in this entire neighborhood since he's been here."
"He's been nice to you," Jane countered.
Eliza laughed. "Nice? He wouldn't even consider dancing with me at the Lucases."
"But then he asked you to dance at Charles' party!" Jane pointed out.
Eliza opened her mouth, but shut it again. She still hadn't been able to figure that one out.
"That's not the point," she argued. "He's still arrogant and conceited and I can totally see him cutting George off without a second thought."
"Just because someone is… snobbish doesn't make them malicious, Lizzie," Jane said.
Eliza groaned again. There was no point in discussing this with her sister. Jane absolutely refused to believe that anyone could be a horrible human being. Everyone was good on some level. Eliza, on the other hand, just knew that Darcy was heartless. After all, why would George Wickham lie to her?
A/N: Ha! What a fool I've been, thinking that my lovely, long winter break would actually afford me the time to write. Ha! I've been ridiculously busy. Not to mention that, as I revealed in my previous author's note, this was that cursed chapter… the chapter that I'd had written, was very happy with, and then poof! I hit one measly button by accident, and half the chapter is missing. Just dandy, Emma. Way to go.
Well anyway, here it is, finished and ready for your reading pleasure (obviously, you've already read it). It is quite a long chapter, so please, not too much whining.
Thank you all very, VERY much for your beauteous and wonderful reviews. The hit count is way high, and the reviews are up there, too. Merci, danke, gracias! (Or any language of your choosing).
Hope everyone had a happy holiday (or whatever politically-correct crap statement I'm supposed to make – by the by, I'd like to thank the loverly UK, for instituting civil union ceremonies. If you are British and are reading this – I love you, and want to be you).
I've seen the movie twice now… still lukewarm about Keira Knightley, but I'm getting there. I love Collins, although mine in this story I tend to think of as the one from the 1940s version with Laurence Olivier (hottie!). He had this hi-larious, nasally voice that I just love.
Anyway…….. wow, if you read this author's note, then brava to you! So please review, and I do hope I can update more quickly next time.
Love, luck, and flying Ringwraiths,
Emma the NazgulQueen