A/N: Wow... It's been ages since I last posted! Sorry... This chapter is really long though!
When we were in the car, I immediately turned to Holmes, "What was that?" I hissed, while he looked absently out of the window.
"He's scum. You really can't see that?" Holmes said incredulously, turning to me.
"I don't understand why nobody likes him! Nobody gives me any reason to stay and if nobody gives me any, I have no reason not to see him." I told him, folding my arms across my chest in open defiance of his wishes.
"Who else warned you away from him?" Holmes asked, startled.
"Darcy."
"He told you about Georgie?" Holmes said, spinning around in his seat, wide-eyed.
I wrinkled my forehead, "Who's that? And how would you know anything about him? You don't even know him."
Holmes gave a sheepish smile, "Actually, I know him a lot better than most people do." My mouth dropped open, all thoughts of Wickham fleeing from my head.
"OHMIGOSH! Y- You're GAY?" I shrieked, banging my head on the ceiling as I fell over in shock.
Holmes burst out laughing and I plaster myself to the wall, thoroughly disgusted with both him and Darcy. After all, Holmes was my best friend, how could he not tell me about that?
How dare he?
I scowled my best scowl at him as he kept on laughing. And laughing. And laughing.
And. Laughing.
"I don't see what's so funny. I'm kicking you out of the band, we need to trust each other implicitly and you broke my trust."
That stopped him and he looked up, wide-eyed at me, "I'm not gay, Ella." Holmes paused for a moment, "I'm sorry, Ella."
I hugged him and he hugged me back, "OK, I won't kick you out of the band. Whatever."
Then I pulled away again, "Wait. So how do you know Darcy?" I asked suspiciously.
"We're cousins."
My mouth fell open yet again. Holmes Fitzwilliam and William Darcy were cousins?
"OK, so what kind of creepy full-stop sized world is this? And how do I not know this? I know your family, Holmes!" I said, thinking he might be playing some lame prank.
"You know most of my family, you don't know my English relations. It just so happens that my aunt married a certain George Darcy and you can guess the name of their eldest child." Holmes said, clearly enjoying my shock.
"You're so smug. I crushed on this guy for years and you never said ANYTHING!" I burst out, flushing with embarrassment.
"If it's any comfort to you, I never said anything to him either. We're very close and I tell him everything so you can be grateful that I didn't share that particular piece of gossip."
"Uh-huh. Holmes, I am soo grateful to you that you let me gush on and on about Will Darcy and you never told me YOU WERE HIS SMURFING COUSIN!" I yelled, covering my now-red face with my hands. I felt them gently being pulled away and then Holmes' hazel eyes are smiling at me while he's gently holding my hands in his warm ones.
"I'm sorry, Ella, really." He said softly and I grin back at him and then give him another hug. Cheesy, I know. Except that I pulled back and slapped him across the face.
"How come you didn't greet each other at the Grammys?" I asked, frowning.
"Ella! We agreed that it would be better if no-one knew that we were related because Darce didn't want people stalking his younger sister and the less people knew about his family, the better."
I sighed, "Weren't you angry with me for insulting him?"
"Nope, he is rather... odd. You were wrong though, he is a great guy."
I didn't want to believe that.
I peeked out of the door, slipping on my pair of geek glasses and shoving my bowler hat firmly onto my head. Brushing my darker hair out of my face, I stepped tentatively out of my door.
I had been stalked incessantly after the magazines had released all the "juicy gossip" about Darcy's and my relationship. I had dyed my hair a shade darker, did my make-up differently, wore hats and glasses. I looked one last time to see if there were any people hiding in the bushes. I sprinted over to my red Mini and hopped inside, driving away just as the paparazzi made a dash for me.
I smiled to myself and accelerated, leaving them behind. I was going to meet Holmes and Charlotte at a café that we had been going to since we were little. We had improved and perfected our music and recorded our new songs. We had been working so hard and meeting only on business.
I pulled up into a space at the huge car park down the road, got out and walked to the café. Walking through the glass panelled doors, I spotted Holmes and walked over to the booth we had bought for our private use.
Charlotte squinted at me, "Have you changed anything? You look different, doesn't she, Holmes?" She said, turning to Holmes who was also looking at me closely.
"Your hair? It's darker, isn't it? Are you being stalked, Wilde?" He said seriously, worry crossing his face.
"No, just by the paparazzi." I smiled, trying to push away his worry and concern. I slid onto the sofa across from them.
"Uh, Wilde, I-" Holmes was interrupted by someone sitting down next to me. I turned to see who it was and gasped. Darcy was sitting next to me, reaching across the table to greet Holmes warmly.
He sat down, nodding to me, "Wilde. Charlotte."
I turned to Holmes disbelievingly, mouthing, "You invited him?" Holmes frowned at me and turned back to Darcy who was speaking.
"Georgiana would love this place." He said wistfully, looking around at the old photos that decorated the red walls.
"Who is Georgiana?" I asked, feeling an odd sinking in my chest, I didn't know why since I didn't care for him.
Darcy turned to me, tenderness softening his features and making my heart nearly melt as dimples appeared. Then I remembered he was Darcy and got my act together.
"My younger sister." He snorted softly, "I think you would get on very well. She needs a good friend." A look of sadness crossed his face before he set his face into the expression of cold superiority I knew so well.
"Darce, for goodness sake, don't give us The Face." Holmes said, grinning at his cousin who had looked up at him, startled.
"Sorry." He said, blushing, "I do that when I'm uncomfortable." He explained to Charlotte and I.
Charlotte grinned at him, "My little brother did that except he would cover up his shyness with hyper-activity." Darcy smiled at her, abashed but grateful. He did that when he was uncomfortable? Not out of arrogance?
I think the world just shook.
"Is that just you or do all the Darcy's do that?" I asked, trying to make conversation.
"All Darcy's, I am afraid, are cursed with The Face. Some people think we are proud or snobby, but really we're just shy." He said, his baritone voice reverberating around the booth.
I laughed, "You sound like the Phantom of the Opera!" He looked surprised and I saw Holmes smirk.
"You read the Phantom?" Darcy asked.
"I'm not completely uneducated." I retorted, feeling defensive. Darcy rolled his eyes, making me feel angrier. What kind of guy was he?
Wait. I knew the answer.
Confusing.
"Wilde. Darcy was asking you a question. He wasn't saying that you're uneducated." Holmes butted in, just as I opened my mouth to tell Darcy what I thought of him. I glared at him and turned back to Darcy, "As a matter of fact, I do. Actually, it happens to be my favourite book, as well as The Great Gatsby."
Darcy sighed, swirling his drink around in his mug, "It's my favourite book as well."
I raised my eyebrows, "I will never know why Love Never Dies was a flop. I mean, the music on its own could have made it the most successful musical if Andrew Lloyd Webber didn't kill Christine off." I smiled, "My greatest wish is to sing that kind of music, but that's not what the public wants. Besides, I don't have the voice."
Holmes laughed disbelievingly, "You don't have the voice! Wilde, excuse me, but that is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard!"
"You sing opera?" Darcy sounded surprised. Again.
"Are you this surprised when anybody does anything? You must be like, 'OH MY GOODNESS! THAT GUY JUST WALKED OUT HIS FRONT DOOR! WOAH!'." Holmes and Darcy glared at me and I sighed, "Anyway, yes I do sing opera, but only like Andrew Lloyd Webber's music, not all that frilly stuff."
Holmes laughed and Darcy sent him a warning glance, making me curious.
"Don't you dare say anything that you'll regret, Holmes." He said, a hard note edging his voice.
Charlotte and I were leaning forward in our seats, giving Holmes puppy eyes and batting our eyelashes.
"Darcy does exactly the same thing in his free time." Holmes said, a glint of laughter in his eyes as Darcy mouthed that they would talk later.
As the boys communicated silently, Charlotte wiggled her eyebrows at me and mouthed "HAWT!", pointing at Darcy, ever so subtly.
Not.
Charlotte seemed to have an idea and she gasped, "You guys should do one of the songs together! From Love Never Dies!"
Darcy and I gave each other a dumbfounded look and then turned to Charlotte, "NO!"
"Why?" Holmes said, shrugging, "I think it's a good idea and it's not like you would release an album of it."
Darcy and I shook our heads emphatically, "Nope. Absolutely not." I said, glaring at Charlotte and Holmes.
Darcy looked thoughtful and Charlotte smirked, "Having second thoughts, Darcy?" She said, looking like an imp as she grinned at him.
He snapped back to reality, "Huh? What? No!" Charlotte rolled her eyes.
"You guys are so boring... Live a little!" She said and Holmes nodded.
I looked, exasperated, at Holmes, "Stop being the Devil's advocate! Don't you ever agree with me?"
Holmes smirked, "You know the answer to that."
I carried on glaring at him and he carried on being a jerk. Darcy was talking to Charlotte about his younger sister and the escapades of Charlotte's younger siblings. It was odd that Charlotte was comfortable talking to Darcy since she was normally shy and didn't like talking to people that she didn't know.
And this was DARCY of all people.
Then again, Darcy was being uncommonly nice, smiling all the time, showing off his oh-so-cute dimples off. I put my mental Darcy blockade up again. I mean, I couldn't stand the guy. Holmes was leaning back in his chair and closing his eyes, but once in a while he'd open them slightly so if you didn't look closely you couldn't tell. He had been acting weirdly ever since we had been here and whatever it was, it was weird. I kicked him under the table and he kicked me back, I kicked him harder and he kicked me back harder as well. Being the baby I was (not), I yelped. Darcy and Charlotte ceased their conversation and gave me a weird look, Darcy asked if I was OK and I brushed him off. They continued and I kicked Holmes back with all my might, but he had shifted his foot and I slammed my foot into the table, sending incredible pain rocketing up my leg. I shrieked and bit my lip in an attempt to hide my pain, but tears started leaking out of my eyes. Darcy and Charlotte stopped abruptly and Holmes' eyes flew open.
"Ella! Are you OK? What happened?" I tried to suppress a sob, but it escaped my lips as another wave of pain came and their faces grew alarmed.
Holmes slid out of his seat, "Ella, did you hurt your foot? Darce, could you have a look at it, please?" Darcy shifted away from me and gently took my leg, resting it on his. He carefully untied my Doc Martens and slid it off, causing me to suck in a sharp breath. Taking off my sock, he examined the now-purple toe, frowning over it.
"Can I feel it? I'll try to be as gentle as I can." Darcy asked, looking concerned. I nodded and tried to stop crying, the pain still intense. He probed my toe gently and his face grew troubled, "It's broken." He pronounced, looking up at me.
Holmes looked stricken, "Oh bub, I'm so sorry."
Charlotte turned to him, "Holmes, what happened?" She said, holding my hand and looking at Holmes, confusion evident on her face.
Holmes grimaced, "We were kicking each other under the table and I pulled my leg back when she was about to kick me, apparently as hard she could. She smashed it into the table."
Darcy glared at Holmes sharply, "You did this to her?" Holmes held his hands up in defence.
Charlotte was still confused, "Wait, why were you even kicking each other in the first place?" My toe was throbbing and Darcy looked as if he had just remembered something.
"Holmes, ask for a bandage." He looked back at me as Holmes left, Charlotte following him, giving him one of her famous (and terribly irritating) lectures, "How are you feeling, Ella?" Darcy asked, his hand still resting on my foot.
"I- I want to go h-home." I felt pathetic, but the feeling of embarrassment was greater and, plus, I needed Jane. Darcy nodded, "We'll go in a minute, darli- I mean, I need to bandage your toe, then I'll carry you to my car. Jane can pick your car up later if she wouldn't mind." The corners of his mouth turned up a little and he wiped a few of the tears away, his thumbs brushing my face and a look of confusion passed over his face. Then Holmes and Charlotte came back and Darcy had pulled away as fast as lightning so neither of them noticed.
"Here it is." Holmes said, passing the package that contained the bandage over to Darcy, "I am really sorry, Ella, really. You'll forgive me, right?" He asked, his hands behind his back like he did when he was uncomfortable and worried.
I gave him a shaky smile, "I-it's all fine. I'll be OK." Then I winced as Darcy started to wrap my foot up. Tying a knot, he leaned back and, holding my foot up, slid off the seat, moving his hand up to my knees and gently cradled my shoulders.
"Take a deep breath. This might hurt your foot a bit." I braced myself, following his advice and he scooped me up like I weighed nothing. Guess my morning runs had been paying off then.
"Uh, you need to kinda, um, put your arms around my neck. It's a bit difficult carrying you like this." He said and I blushed as I reached up to wrap my arms around his neck.
He walked out of the café, people staring at us, and started down the street with Charlotte and Holmes following us closely. I buried my head into Darcy's shoulder to hide my face from the paparazzi and Holmes gave me his hat to wear.
We walked to where Darcy's car was parked in the same car park as mine. He gently laid me down in the back and Charlotte came to sit with me as Holmes and Darcy went around to the front. Charlotte looked at me, still concerned, "How's your foot? Still hurting?" She asked, raising my foot up a bit as we had learned in First Aid.
I nodded, my foot was still incredibly painful, but it had eased a bit and I had stopped crying, "I think I'll survive. What about you?"
Char smiled, "'Course I'm fine, just concerned for you. I've got some Ben and Jerry's at home if you'd like me to bring it over. I could bring some DVDs for you as well?"
"Well then, we can have a girly night." I smiled tiredly at her, the crying having worn me out. I highly doubted that I would be able to stay awake for another hour. The journey home was quiet and Darcy refused the invitation in, all awkwardness and aloofness again. I sighed and leaned back into my La-Z-Boy. Jane had been the only one that had been shocked (or even bothered to take care of me) when Holmes had blushingly told her the tale of how my foot had been broken. Mama, Kitty and Lydia had been thrilled to pieces when Darcy had carried me into the living room. My younger sister, Mary, had reproved me about how I should 'do all things in moderation' and Papa hadn't emerged from his study until 4 hours after Darcy had gone.
I had been thinking about Darcy and how he had behaved at the café and when my foot had been broken. He was a mystery, but one that I wasn't so sure I wanted to solve. He had been nice and gentle, claiming to act like he did in society out of shyness, but I wasn't so sure. I had met people like Darcy before where they had claimed to have been something else when they were what they appeared to be all along and I was pretty sure that Darcy was one of those people.
I thought.
I sighed, resting my head in my hands. Why did life have to be so complicated? I thought celebrities were supposed to have people doing everything for them, but no. Instead, I was followed by the paparazzi, had huge spreads in magazines about my non-existent relationship with Darcy and now I have this.
A holiday with Holmes' aunt. The one he had a phobia about.
The (not-so) Honourable Lady Catherine D'Bourgh.
At least Holmes would be there and a few other relations, but she had heard a lot about me from Holmes, whom I planned to kill with a plastic spoon.
Slowly.
Holmes hadn't been specific about the holiday. He'd just turned up one day, pale and trembling, and announced that we were to go to his aunt's for the week. This week.
I hadn't seen Darcy since I had broken my toe six weeks ago. Charlie had come at least once a day to see Jane and they were now officially a couple. The trashy tabloids claimed that they were "the cutest couple of the year" and had bugged Charlie for an interview with Jane. Jane had been coping remarkably well with all the attention, just smiling serenely and brushing the media off as if they were an annoying fly. I looked out of my bedroom window to see if Holmes had come to pick me up yet in his little bug that he had oh-so maturely painted to look like Herbie. As I looked out, the said bug came hurtling into view, tyres screeching.
I frowned, "Jane? Have I sorted my life insurance?" I asked, looking over my bed to where Jane was sitting, her back to my cream coloured wall. She looked slightly tired, her hair ruffled, lines under her eyes.
"Are you alright?" She smiled at me, nodding, "I'll be fine. The media's just getting to me a bit."
I ran a hand through my hair, watching Holmes almost fall out of his car, "Do you want to come with? I'm sure Lady C wouldn't mind." She probably would mind, but whatever. Jane shook her head as Holmes rang the doorbell, "Have a lovely time and don't worry about me. I'll be fine, plus I've got Charlie. What more could I need?" She said as she stood up, stretching her long slender arms.
I hopped off the cushioned window seat and padded across my fluffy white carpet to her, "Jane." I said firmly, taking both of her hands in mine, "Don't hesitate to call me if you need help."
Jane pulled a face and laughed, her dimples appearing, "Ella, just go and have a good time. I'll see you when you get back." We hugged and then I ran downstairs, yelling a goodbye to my family and grabbing my suitcase once again. Holmes was pacing outside, frowning, when I ran outside.
He looked up anxiously, "Ah, Ella, good. Where have you been? I've been waiting here for-" He glanced at his watch and humphed, "Ah, well, you're hhere now anyway. Come on then!" Holmes said, taking my suitcase from me and walking/jogging to his car. After shoving my suitcase unceremoniously into his small boot, he got into the car, starting the engine. I ran over to the other side of the car, "Holmes! Sheesh, and you call yourself a gentleman?" I accused, shoving my seatbelt on.
Holmes smiled apologetically, speeding down the road, "I'm sorry, Ella. You'll thank me later." I gave him a sceptical look, "If I'm not dead."
"Then you can thank me for saving you from Aunt Catherine." He said, accelerating. I rolled my eyes and rolled up the sleeves of my green jumper.
"Is Lady C really so bad? 'Cause you make her sound like the Wicked Witch of the West." Holmes chuckled, "You'll just have to meet her. She's delightful, absolutely delightful." I could just make out the tiny weensy bit of sarcasm in his voice. Talented, I know.
"Why is she even a lady?" I turned to look out of the window, watching the massive buildings fly past, then melting away into fields and sheep.
Holmes leant back into his seat, "She inherited it from her husband, who was really an amazing man. It was her fourth marriage, she married him for no other reason than his money. My uncle was a clever man, but he was completely infatuated with Aunt Catherine, so he married her." He finished, somewhat bitterly. I huffed, I was never able to understand mercenary women. How could anybody marry for anything less than complete, pure and absolute love? How could they live with themselves and not be eaten away by all-consuming guilt?
I should win an award for that speech. Go me.
After falling asleep, being woken up by almost swerving into a lorry, getting pulled over by the police, let go and then breaking down, we finally got there.
It was like a fairytale/Indian castle. It was the largest house I had ever been to. Well, apart from Michael Jackson's. That was amazingly big. Anyway, we drove up the red stone driveway and stopped in front of the entryway, a white stairway leading up to an oak doorway. The door opened to reveal a butler in a penguin tuxedo, "Good morning, Mr. Fitzwilliam. How are you?" He paused and turned around, "Henry, can you get our guest's bags and ask Robert to drive the car around to the back please? Thank you." My mouth had dropped open slightly as the butler turned back around, Holmes smiled at him and shook his hand.
"Chester, it's good to see you again! I'm perfectly well, how are you?" Holmes' English accent came through a bit stronger, probably because of the butler's accent.
"Very well indeed and, uh, who is your friend?" The elderly butler turned to me, smiling warmly. I smiled back at him and reached out my hand, "I'm Holmes' band-mate and best friend, Ella Bennet. I'm delighted to meet you."
"Chester Brannagh at your service." He said, kissing my hand in the old fashioned way. I almost giggled, finding it odd that anyone would still do that. Another man came out, bowed slightly to us and then asked Holmes for his keys and then went to drive it around to the back of the house.
Holmes and I were then led through the massive entrance and through about a gazillion rooms until we finally arrived at yet another pair of doors.
Chester stopped, took a deep breath and then opened the doors, motioning for us to stay there.
Holmes leaned closer to me, "Prepare yourself." I heard Chester asking tentatively if "The Lady Catherine was prepared to receive her guests".
After some shouting, we were summoned. I stepped into the huge room, looking around at the expensive décor that surrounded us. An middle-aged lady was sitting in a large velvet covered sofa, a severe scowl on her already sour features. Holmes immediately strode over to her, bowing and kissing her hand.
"Aunt Catherine, I am delighted to see you again!" Holmes exclaimed dramatically. The old lady looked at him disdainfully, "That will do, Holmes. Introduce me to that..." She held up her pair of old fashioned glasses, you know, the ones on a stick, "Girl." A frown curled her thin mouth as she said the word like it was poison.
Holmes obliged her, "This is my best friend, ma'am, Ella Bennet or perhaps you might know her as Wilde Paradis?" He said, his smile looking entirely fake. Holmes widened his eyes and gestured at me to come and greet her. I walked over to Lady Catherine and curtsied deeply, over-doing the old fashioned formality she practiced, "Ma'am, I am most obliged to you for accommodating us in such a fine, luxurious home. Why, I am sure I have never seen anything like it in all the many years I have been on this earth!" I said in my most English accent I could muster and trying to fight the fit of laughter that was attempting to take me over and end my charade. Lady Catherine wrinkled her nose at me, "Are you making fun of me, girl?" She sneered and I feigned shock, "No certainly, ma'am! I would never-" Lady C waved her hand and indicated that we should sit down. I turned around and gasped at the sight that greeted me.
A/N: DUN dun DUUUUUUUUN! Yeah, so I really have no reason for taking to upload this chapter. I don't really like it, but whatever! Let me know what you think!
