Chapter 13 – Careful What You Wish For

I looked at you, You looked me
I smiled at you, You smiled at me
And we're on our way, No we can't turn back, babe
Yeah, we're on our way, And we can't turn back
'Cause it's too late, Too late

The Doors

"Why don't you just invite George?"

Eliza sighed; she was talking with Jane on the phone, and they were discussing the gala. Yes, she had thought of inviting George several times… but she still wasn't sure what exactly was going on between them. They had been playing phone tag ever since the day he hadn't met her for lunch.

"I suppose," Eliza replied wearily. It was Saturday, and she was exhausted from her first week of work. Rochester's demands got more ludicrous by the day, and now the museum's lawyers were getting involved. Friday had been particularly eventful, with lunch ending in a shouting match between Rochester and a member of the museum's board of directors. Darcy, on the other hand, just sat their calmly, taking notes. Not once did he raise his voice, but when he did intervene, his voice seemed to have a sort of calming effect on everyone, including, to her considerable irritation, Eliza. She suddenly smiled; she would love to see his face if she brought George with her to the gala.

"Actually, yes, I think I will invite him," Eliza said confidently.

"Good," Jane said. "So I'll see you at two?"

"Yes." They were going shopping for Eliza's dress.

"Alright… go call him, I'll see you then," Jane said.

"Bye," Eliza said, and hung up. Taking a deep breath, she kept the phone in her hand and dialed George's number.

"Hello?" came his raspy British accent.

"Hey, George, it's Eliza," she said, inadvertently biting her lip.

"Eliza!" she grinned to hear his excited voice. "Finally, we connect."

"I know… work's being crazy this week," she explained.

"Ah… you like it?" he asked.

She paused, pondering the question. "Yeah, I guess so. Actually, it's sort of the reason I'm calling."

"Ah."

"A new exhibit opens in two weeks, and they're having a gala opening weekend. And as a museum employee, I get the special privilege of bringing someone for free," she said. "And I was just wondering if you'd be interested?"

"That's how I'll get you to go out with me? If it's free?" he said jokingly. Eliza laughed, her stomach in a small knot.

"Yep, I'm a cheap date," she replied. It was his turn to laugh. "So?" she asked.

"Of course," he answered.

"Great! Now, it's black tie, so you'll have to wear a tux or a suit."

"I can do that… I look great in a tux, by the way," he said.

I bet you do, she thought. "Good to know," she said, and then paused. "Also, Darcy's going to be there," she said, hoping this wouldn't change his mind.

"Darcy? Will Darcy?" he asked, his voice lower.

"Yeah… he's the artist's lawyer so he's been around a lot."

"You mean you've been seeing him on a daily basis?"

"Unfortunately," she said.

There was a long pause. Then, George said, "Well, if he wants to avoid me, let him leave. I have nothing to hide."

She grinned, feeling very relieved. "Excellent. I'll see you then, then."

"You sure will," he said.

Eliza hung up feeling quite pleased with herself. Sure, it wasn't exactly a proper date, because they'd most likely have to be talking with other people all night, but it was a start… it was surely a lot more than she'd had in a long time.

Later that afternoon, Eliza met Jane in the city at Lord & Taylor's to start shopping. After Eliza assured Jane that she had indeed asked George to the gala and he'd said yes, they began talking about Jane.

"It's so wonderful… it really feels like I'm living alone. I mean, I'll eat dinner with them occasionally, but they couldn't care less one way or the other," Jane was saying as they made their way up the escalators. "I'll do my own laundry, clean my own room… I tried to get them to let me help out with the bills, but you know Aunt Anne and Uncle John."

Eliza nodded emphatically; she knew the Gardiners would never in a million years let Jane help out money-wise. She was surprised they were even letting her do her own laundry.

As Jane continued to sing the praises of her new life, Eliza kept one eye on the dresses and one eye on her sister. Was she imagining things, or did Jane's raptures seem a bit… forced? Perhaps she was overreacting… she hoped so.

"Eliza, you're barely looking!" Jane suddenly said. Eliza jerked out of her thoughts and looked fully at her sister. Jane's eyebrows narrowed slightly, and she sighed.

"Lizzie, please," she groaned, throwing a silk dress over her arm. "I am fine. Stop looking at me like that, it's annoying."

"I'm sorry, Jane," she said, hanging her head. "I'm just…"

"I know, but don't be. Don't worry about me… I really am over him," Jane said. "If he were to walk by me right this very second I could chat with him about the weather and be perfectly civil."

"Why would he be in the dress section?" Eliza asked mock-seriously.

This made Jane laugh, and the tension eased. Eliza focused her full attention on the myriad of dresses before her, feeling almost lightheaded. Fifteen minutes later, their arms loaded down with dresses, the girls made their way to dressing room.

As Eliza began to try on the dresses, Jane sat down.

"What do you think Darcy will do when he sees George at the gala?" Jane asked.

Eliza had barely pulled one dress over her head before she frowned and shook it back off.

"I don't know," she said, pulling on the next one. "Hopefully leave."

"Eliza," Jane admonished, carefully hanging up the dresses Eliza had rejected. Eliza, however, had just thought of something.

"Oh! I hope he doesn't bring Caroline," she groaned, throwing away another gown.

"Lizzie," Jane reproved again.

"I've half a mind to just snap her twiggy little neck in two," Eliza ranted on; her rage was only fueled by the sight of Jane just shaking her head.

"Seriously, Jane, you have to hate her just a little," Eliza yelped, struggling with a zipper. Jane stood up and pulled out the bit of fabric that Eliza had gotten caught by all of her commotion.

"Hatred is a very useless emotion, Lizzie," Jane said calmly. Eliza growled, but gave up. After several minutes and over a dozen dresses later, Eliza finally pulled on a strapless, silk charmeuse cobalt dress.

"Oh, Lizzie!" Jane immediately cried. "It's perfect!"

Eliza grinned to herself in the mirror – indeed, the dress was perfect. They instantly decided to buy it, but it took Eliza several more minutes to take it back off.

"Well, I'd say that was successful," Jane said later as they were leaving the store.

"I quite agree," Eliza replied, linking her arm with her sister's.

Despite her several blocks-long of begging Jane to come home for dinner, Jane went back to the Gardiners' apartment to get ready for dinner with some friends from work. Eliza made her way home, eagerly peeking into her shopping bag every so often to look at her gorgeous dress.

Two work weeks came and went; the exhibition, for all of the furor, ended up coming together quite nicely. Rochester and Victoria finally struck up a deal: if Rochester gave her stencils and mouse pads, she would give him control over the placement of the paintings and no mugs. Eliza and her team of workers slaved away, and by Friday of opening weekend, the gallery looked lovely. Eliza had not seen hair or hide of Rochester or Mr. Darcy for several days, so she was actually quite calm and collected when they came to visit the gallery Friday afternoon while Victoria was not there.

As Rochester floated away to admire his own work, Darcy came back to Eliza after touring around the gallery.

"It looks very nice," he said slowly, as if the words tasted badly in his mouth. "Please thank the head of the artistic team for us."

She chuckled dryly. "I'll make sure to send myself flowers," she said, smiling as his eyes first narrowed and then widened.

"Ah… well, then thank you, Elizabeth," he said.

"Eliza," she said insistently. He nodded.

"I apologize… Eliza," he said.

Just then Victoria strode into the gallery; quite differently than two weeks prior, she smiled graciously and shook both Mr. Darcy's and Rochester's hands. She chatted with them for a bit while Eliza took the opportunity to sit and drink her third cup of coffee that day.

A few minutes later, Victoria joined Eliza on the bench. Darcy and Rochester were still milling about.

"Ah, Eliza, I've been meaning to ask you… will Mr. Wickham be having the beef or chicken?" Victoria asked. "If I hurry, I can still get his order in."

"Oh… the beef," Eliza said, hoping George wasn't some sort of vegetarian. Victoria nodded, patted Eliza's knee, and then stood and left the gallery. Eliza stood as well, seeing the large team of people preparing to get the hall ready for tonight's gala. Her eyes caught Darcy's for only a moment; his looked suddenly much harder and colder than merely ten minutes ago. She shrugged to herself as she left the gallery; Mr. Darcy, she found, was much too difficult to figure out.

Damn him… damn him to hell!

Will's thoughts had taken a sudden and very violent turn. Just as he was finishing a conversation with Ms. Emerson – still a dim woman, to be sure, but at least accommodating – she sat down with Eliza. It was then that he heard it – Eliza was coming to the gala tonight with that bastard Wickham. How could she? What was there to like about such a slimy, immoral man? Could she not see through his rather thin demeanor of affable charm and kindness? He would only hurt her… that was all he seemed capable of, hurting those around him. And Will really did not want to be around when he did.

He thought quickly of skipping the gala tonight, of just going home to London a day early to see his sister. But no, that would not be in good taste. Rochester was his client, and a client that he had invested a lot of time and effort in, as well. He couldn't let Charles down like that… and besides, Caroline would be more than irritatingly devastated if Will changed his mind. As soon as she had heard about the gala, she had assumed Will was going to invite her, and invite her he did. There would have only been grief and misery if he hadn't.

Trudging home, Will found his mind unpleasantly filled with thoughts of the many ways George could hurt Eliza. Will knew his ways much too well, and he knew it was often not just emotional pain that George Wickham caused.

Hours later, Will was dressed in a fine suit and waiting not so patiently for Caroline in the hall. The car had been downstairs and waiting for the past fifteen minutes – every two minutes or so, Caroline would call out "only one more minute!". Will's patience was quickly deteriorating.

Finally, at quarter to seven, Caroline emerged from her room. She was wearing a slinky black silk dress which emphasized every bone jutting out of her flesh. She smiled at Will, who was already halfway out the door.

"Oh Will, I'm really so flattered you invited me tonight," she cooed in the elevator.

Will was about to say "Who else would I invite?" but decided against it. Instead he said,

"You look lovely."

Caroline practically heaved and fluttered her eyelashes. "Thank you, Will. I just bought this dress yesterday… I really had nothing to wear…"

Caroline chattered on about her utter lack of clothing as they got into the car and set off for the museum. Her topic had switched to shoes for a brief moment when they pulled up to the Met.

"Oh, we're here," Will swiftly cut her off; she blinked for a moment, but then smiled and settled in her seat. Will groaned softly, but got out of the car and walked around her to her side. Opening the door, he took her bony hand and helped her out as she let her hand linger over his. Avoiding having to hold her hand, Will reached into his pocket to pull out the tickets and fairly raced to the door.

"Ah, Mr. Darcy and Miss Bingley," said the fellow taking their tickets. "Yes, you're seated at Table 2."

"Thank you," Darcy said, and rushed Caroline inside.

"Will, I know you want to show me off, but give me a minute to check my purse," Caroline said with a giggle. Will watched her walk away for only a moment before turning his eyes to the masses of people. He searched the crowd with his eyes, but did not see Eliza. He picked up a glass of champagne as a waiter walked by, and swigged it in one gulp. He was not quite sure what sort of state he would be in by the end of the night.

"Oh, Lizzie, you look fantastic!"

Jane had come to help Eliza prepare for the gala. Eliza made a strangled noise and cracked her knuckles again. George had not called her, even though she had left him easily three messages. She had hoped he would call to say he was picking her up, but it seemed they were going to just meet at the museum.

"Lizzie, stop worrying," Jane said calmly. "He'll be there."

"Yeah, I guess."

The truth was that there were butterflies in Eliza's stomach like she had never had before. Several images were running through her mind: Victoria's pleasure at meeting George, Darcy's face turning beet red upon seeing George… or Darcy's triumphant smirk when George did not show up. Eliza doubted she could stomach that smirk one more time… it grated at her nerves so badly she wished to just punch him every time it danced across his face.

"What if Caroline is there?" Eliza said, changing the subject. She watched Jane's eyes lower considerably as she stood from the bed and fiddled with Eliza's hair a bit more.

"Well… just don't embarrass me… or Mom," Jane said with a grin. Eliza smiled too, but did not press her sister. Jane was a strange creature; she was nurturing and loving, and yet so guarded. Eliza wondered at it often – how did she manage it?

An hour later, and Eliza was getting into a taxi around half past six. Her parents and Jane waved her off, and Eliza watched with a sinking heart as Mrs. Bennet immediately turned to her husband and whispered something in his ear; most like something to the effect of: What on Earth are we going to do with her? Oh well, Eliza thought, sighing and facing front, at least her father would defend her.

A little after seven, she pulled up in front of the museum. A quick scan with the eyes proved that George was not waiting for her as she had hoped. Taking deep, even breaths, she paid the cabbie and strolled up the steps, stopping at the top one to idle a bit. She positively hated this feeling: every inch of her was screaming that she should not allow a man to take control of her emotions in this way. It completely went against everything she stood for. She was not some ninny to be taken in by a man's charms and good looks, and then to completely fall apart when he didn't reciprocate. No, she thought, no, I will not become Lydia. I will not let just some guy turn me into a twit who sits around all day waiting for him to call. No!

Bucking up her strength, she nodded to herself and turned to go inside. Just then, however, her phone rang. Completely flustered, she ravaged through her tiny clutch to pull it out, and then stood off to the side again to flip it open.

"Hello?" she asked eagerly.

"Hey, Liz, it's me."

It was George. Feeling torn between anger, relief, and excitement, Eliza forgot that under no circumstances was she to be called Liz.

"George, finally!" she said, then realized how desperate that sounded. "So, what's up? Where are you?" she asked more calmly.

"So sorry, love, I'm not going to be able to make it," he said, the phone crackling every so slightly.

Eliza's heart fell straight to her stomach. Dammit, dammit, dammit!

"Oh… well, that's…okay," she said weakly.

"I'm so sorry, I really am. A… a gig came up for us at the last moment, one we really couldn't pass up. I'm in Vegas," he went on.

"Vegas… wow," Eliza said halfheartedly.

"Yeah, so… I'll make it up to you."

"Sure."

A click signaled he had hung up. Eliza slammed her phone shut, unsure whether to be angrier at George or herself. She stood fuming for a few moments, thinking of leaving. But no, of course she couldn't leave… she had put a lot of work into this exhibition, and besides, Victoria would be upset if she never showed. Taking a deep breath, Eliza turned back toward the doors and made her way inside. She caught a glimpse of Darcy from far away; sure enough, there was that bat next to him. Groaning, Eliza turned her back on them and went into the gallery. She found Victoria easily enough, and was immediately inundated with introductions. This was a pleasant enough alternative to her raging emotions, so she immersed herself in meeting as many people as she could.

A few minutes before eight, Eliza excused herself to the ladies room before dinner. As the din of the crowd faded away, Eliza's thoughts, unfortunately, came back. Pausing to examine herself in the full-length mirror, Eliza sighed and smoothed her electric-blue dress. The strapless floor-length gown floated away ever so slightly near the bottom, and the piping on the torso gave the illusion that she actually had some curves. She had worn her hair straight for once with a few wavy wisps near her face. All things considering, she was not a repulsive human being to look at. No, she did not have the biggest rack, nor the most chiseled cheekbones, but her body was in great shape thanks to her yoga and Pilates. Her face was pretty enough, especially when she smiled. So what exactly was lacking that men did not seem to stay interested for more than few days? As much as she hated to admit it, she cared. No, she did not want to be the girl who became a dithering mess whenever men were near, but it would be nice to know that someone noticed. Anyone.

Dinner could not have come soon enough. After five glasses of champagne, Caroline had noticed Darcy's ever-so-slight tipsiness and had insisted he stop. For once he was grateful for her watching him like a hawk, and he settled on water for the remainder of the evening. He had yet to see Eliza, but after all that champagne, his thoughts had almost entirely turned to food. That was, until he sat down at their designated table. His mind had wandered off from Caroline's blathering, and his eyes followed. Just then, Eliza walked into the room next to Victoria. She was wearing a beautiful satin blue dress, but all Will could think was God I hope she sits at our table. He could certainly use some sensible conversation.

But then it dawned on him, as if he had just drank one his aunt's infamous tomato and banana juice hangover cocktails. Eliza had walked in with Victoria. Not a greasy-haired, slimy Wickham in sight! He sat back in his chair in utter relief. Perhaps she had finally come to her senses and seen George for the spineless bastard he was. What was more likely, however, judging from the look on her face, was that George had simply not shown up. Will growled – indeed, it was rather Wickham-esque to leave people hanging high and dry. Well, perhaps not dry, Will thought vehemently.

Unfortunately, Eliza followed Victoria to a table several yards away. Darcy sighed and smiled halfheartedly at Caroline, who had attempted a joke. This Eliza-thing was quite tiresome. If she wished to fancy George, what could he do about it? He felt quite content at that moment to forget her entirely – indeed, after tonight it was quite likely he would never see her again. Of course, he had thought that when he'd left Netherfield, too.

Luckily, Eliza had been able to avoid Darcy and Caroline so far. Sitting down to dinner, Eliza quickly forgot all her silly thoughts from in the bathroom. Why, just now, the young man across the table was eye-flirting with her. She smiled to herself as she felt her normal emotions return. No, she was not going to let George's standing her up completely reverse her entire way of thinking. She'd had a weak moment, and it had passed.

Dinner was delicious, and afterwards followed a nice speech by the head of the board of directors. Fortunately – and probably purposely – Rochester did not get up to speak, but instead smiled and waved from his seat as the crowd politely applauded. As dessert wound down, the guests made their way to the exhibition to take in Rochester's scenic watercolors.

Eliza wandered a bit away from Victoria when they entered the exhibition; she wanted to enjoy seeing other people enjoy her work. Indeed, as she passed an elderly couple, she heard, "Oh, Whitman! What a nice touch." She grinned as she made her way through the gallery; she felt quite proud as she looked on the exhibition. And she had enjoyed it so much… well most of it, at least. But if dealing with insufferable people like Darcy and ridiculous artists like Rochester were the worst parts of the job, then Eliza felt certain she had just found herself the perfect dream job.

"Not the most mind-blowing art I've ever seen, but it is tolerable. Good form."

Eliza glanced over her shoulder to find Darcy at her side, his tall, solid figure almost like a wall, protecting her from the hordes of people trying to pass. She shrugged.

"Yes well, all art is quite useless," she commented shortly. He chuckled appreciatively.

There was a long, horridly uncomfortable pause.

"Actually, Eliza, I really should apologize," Darcy said after awhile.

Eliza turned to stare at him. Apologize, really?

"I was wrong about the stencils. They look very nice," he said, still looking straight ahead. Eliza felt disappointed; she never trusted an apology that didn't come with eye contact.

"Yes, well… no need," she said coldly.

She watched his eyes harden every so slightly as he looked down at her.

"I see your date isn't here," he said.

Ouch. That stung.

"Perhaps he didn't feel comfortable," she retorted.

"Perhaps he was afraid," he slung back ever so casually.

"Yes, for his physical well-being," she said. They were facing each other squarely now.

"You should not be friends with him," Darcy said, he voice husky and low.

"He needs more friends like me after having friends like you," she growled.

"Yes, Wickham has that charming ability to make friends quite easily. Whether or not he can keep them is another question," he replied with a sarcastic raise of his eyebrow.

Her mouth fell slightly agape at his curt coldness.

"Yes, he's been so very unfortunate to lose your friendship, although I'm sure he feels the burden of it every day of his life."

"Indeed, Eliza, I hope he does," Darcy said with contempt etched into his face.

"You are the cause of all his troubles and yet you speak of him with scorn and sarcasm!"

"Oh yes, Wickham's troubles have been enormous," he said, his eyes burning with fury now.

Eliza opened her mouth to retort with some vile and vicious, but closed it again. No, she sternly reminded herself, no she was not going to stoop to his cruel level. Instead, she smiled upon seeing Caroline making her way towards them.

"Yes, well, I suppose you don't need any more friends anyway. You've got Caroline," she said with a wicked smile, and then scampered away before Caroline reached her.

The night having been ruined by Darcy bringing Wickham back to the forefront of her thoughts, Eliza said a quick goodbye to Victoria and then left the museum. The air had cooled off ever so slightly outside, and she took a few minutes to walk around a bit. At the end of the day, she thought, Wickham did not mean too much to her. After all, she barely knew him, and had only spoken to him a few times. But to think that Darcy had cut him off like that, with absolutely nothing, only the clothes on his back… well, she couldn't help but defend him. All Darcy had done tonight was prove that not only was George's story true, but that he felt proud of himself for cutting off George, the stain on his perfect blueblood family.

After a half an hour of processing her thoughts, Eliza wearily caught a cab. Her parents were asleep when she returned home at half past ten, and Jane, unfortunately, had already gone back to Manhattan. Eliza collapsed onto her bed, not wanting to quite take her dress off yet. Reaching over to turn on her radio, Eliza sighed and burrowed her face in the pillows. Hopefully a good night's sleep would fade away her thoughts.

Will could not have been more grateful to Eliza for riling him up like that. Feeling angry at her was such a relief – of course, he knew that George had clearly fed her a huge pile of lies, but if she could not see through his façade, then surely she had less intelligence than he had given her credit for. He sighed and gladly accepted Caroline's company. After tonight, he would never see Eliza again, and his memory of her would be of nothing more than simpleton.

A/N: Finally! The chapter is finished. As is my first year of college (3.65 GPA thank you very much). It went by so quickly! And I still have no idea what I'm going to major in! Woo! Next semester, however, I am taking a fiction writing class, so I'm very excited for sophomore year.

Well, I have the same summer job as last year, a 9-5 type of job which severely limits my writing time, so don't get too excited. However, I will have time in the evenings and on weekends, so chapters should be coming out at least slightly more quickly than during the school year.

This chapter was a lot of fun to write, mostly because I got to stare at pretty dresses for hours trying to find one for Eliza (yes, I found an actual dress – it's by David Meister, and you can see it on his website under Evening Gowns.) Next chapter we will fast forward to probably October, where YES we will find out how Charlotte and Collins end up together (which they will! Well, not married, but together).

So please review! I love you all so much… reviews are so much fun to get! And please don't hesitate to ask me to clarify anything you find confusing (I tend to do a lot of inside jokes and allusions) or give me suggestions – I love to use the little "reply to this review" feature.

Oh and also, when Eliza says "Well, all art is quite useless," she's quoting Oscar Wilde. Who is fabulous and you all should read as much of his work as possible.

Love, luck, and flying Ringwraiths,

Emma the NazgulQueen