The Love of the Game by Intuitive Intelligence.
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Lizzy sat curled in an arm chair the next morning, a cup of Earl Grey in her hand as she stared out at the sunrise. Sleep hadn't come easily for her, and after tossing and turning for the 9,000th time she decide to just get up and head downstairs.
She had chosen not to confide to Jane that Darcy had kissed her. In a strange way it seemed too personal of a moment to share, even though it had lasted only seconds and Darcy had fled from her afterward. Lizzy was vehemently opposed to the man in her thoughts, finding fault after fault with him but even she couldn't deny that somehow his lips pressing against her own excited her. It went without saying that their next meeting was going to be awkward, and Lizzy was already dreading it.
The sun had just broken over the horizon when Lizzy noticed the sound of footfalls on the stair. Glancing toward the doorway she saw her father in a navy blue dressing gown smiling at her.
"Morning, Lizzy. You sure are up early…" He said as he took a seat in the opposite arm chair.
"I couldn't sleep."
"Me either, I'm afraid." He's good natured smile momentarily tensed with worry and Lizzy for the first time took in the large bags under his eyes and the extra wrinkles on his forehead.
"What is the matter?"
"I wish I could spare you this, my Lizzy, but it seems you are bound to find out regardless…"
"Papa?"
Lizzy was really beginning to become worried. Her father never spoke like this, he never sounded so defeated in all the time she knew him. Sitting up straight she put her empty mug down on the coffee table and gave him her rapt attention.
"I tried to salvage the team, I thought the new stadium might have helped…. But there is nothing to be done for it. Ticket sales aren't what they used to be, we haven't won in ages… we're nearly bankrupt Lizzy. Your mother, bless her, has no idea of it. She still spends money as if it grew on trees. Between her and your sisters, and paying for Mary's education…. I'm quite afraid that we are going to have to sell the team."
"Sell Watford?!" Lizzy cried, "But Papa, Watford was your dream. You told me you always wanted to own your own team, to take it to glory… Surely there is some other avenue you've yet to explore?"
"I wish I could tell you differently, my dear. I have a meeting with a man who is going to help us weigh our financial options later today. His name is Bill Collins, and I wish I could turn him away. Unfortunately, he may be our only option."
"I'm so sorry, Papa." Lizzy said giving her father a hug.
His hand patted her back affectionately and giving her a small smile, he rose from his seat.
"I'll be telling your mother and the rest at breakfast, try to act shocked for my sake. Lord knows your mother will go on enough about her nerves in a dramatic air enough over this without being 'insulted that I didn't have the decency to tell her first.'"
"I'll do my best…"
"That's my girl."
When he left the room presumably to cloister himself in his study, Lizzy allowed her heart to sag. Noshing on her nails, she expended the nervous energy pent up inside her. They would have to sell the team she had come to love like an extension of her family. And if things were worse than her father let on, potentially they'd lose Longbourne as well.
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Vanilla and merlot was all he could taste on his lips after a rush of blood to the head caused him to kiss Elizabeth Bennet. Hours later, and he still caught himself flicking out his tongue to capture what of her essence remained. Looking back at the event he winced. He mentally kicked himself over and over again for kissing her and then dropping her. Not to mention running away in the most cowardly fashion.
What must she think of him? Probably that he was a lunatic and needed therapy. Yes, that is what Elizabeth must think of him. And she was right after all. This girl had addled his brains beyond belief. She had distracted him from his training and had laughed in his face all the while. Her eyes teased him more than her words ever could, and he found himself ruminating over them as he attempted to fall asleep.
He couldn't confide in Charlie about Elizabeth. He wouldn't understand the reasons why this couldn't and shouldn't happen. Charlie would simply smile and encourage the matter, which he didn't need at all. No, Charlie wouldn't be of any use, but his cousin would. Richard understood him best, and offered useful advice even if it was with a snarky smile and a smattering of sarcasm.
Grasping for his black mobile that was on the night stand, he flicked through his contacts till he found his cousin. Pressing dial, he wedged the phone between his ear and his shoulder as he listened to it ring.
"Will, you bloody well realize that it is three in the morning and some of us have to work right?" A voice groaned out on the other side of the line.
"Richard, I know for a fact that you were already awake. You are the most notorious insomniac…"
True to form, Richard had in fact been awake and watching a late night infomercial about a new cleaning product that seemed to work like 'magic' and smell like oranges all at the same time.
"Fine… no need to be so cocky about it. But if I had been sleeping—"
"If you had been sleeping, I might have felt sorry for you." Will responded, not missing a beat.
"Right, well then what can I do for you?"
"I have a bit of a problem…"
"Ah… a woman."
Darcy could feel his cousin smirking on the other end of the line and glared in spite of the fact that Richard couldn't possibly be intimidated by his cold stare.
"I never said anything about a woman."
"Didn't have to, I know that tone of voice afterall. I've heard it many a time, the last time I heard it was when Catherine was shoving Anne at you…So who is she?" Richard asked as he popped a peanut in his mouth.
"She's … a journalist."
Will was startled to hear choking on the other end of the line. After a few hearty coughs, Richard managed to wheeze out: "Whoa mate, did I hear you correctly? You know the rules, never date the press."
"I know that, Richard. But she's different then other women. She has a witty reply for everything, has not a care for what anyone else thinks of her, and her eyes! Her eyes are incredibly enchanting…"
"Enchanting? Who gives a tosh about her eyes, is she fit? Nice firm ass and the like?"
Richard asked wanting to get a rise out of his cousin.
"I can't believe you… and yes she's very fit. As if I would be this screwed up over someone who wasn't?"
"Well in that case I say shag her, and get her out of your system so you can focus on your game. Unless you are finally ready to man up and try to settle into a relationship for a change."
"I am not in the position to be in a relationship with anyone right now, Richard."
Richard knew that this was the cue for him to give Darcy a speech about how he didn't need distractions in his life and a relationship was the end of the world. He'd made the speech so many times that he had memorized it verbatim, yet tonight he didn't want to make it anymore, be it that he had simply grown up or he wanted his cousin to find happiness.
"Will, you've got to figure this out on your own mate. But do realize that you are getting older, and if you don't want to be alone and pathetic for the rest of your life, you should maybe think about giving a bird a chance. Now get some rest, I'll talk to you tomorrow."
Sinking back into his pile of pillows Darcy seemed to be pouting. Richard was not the one who was supposed to give orders. Richard was not supposed to be the mature one. Richard was not supposed to have encouraged a relationship with Elizabeth Bennet because now all that stood between him and her enchanting eyes was his own damn pride.
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Longbourne house was in an uproar. Bodies frantically rushed around tidying this and that in the tune to Wendy's shrieks. Pillows were fluffed, antiques frantically dusted and furniture hastily returned to its proper position due to the fact that a man would be arriving in an hour who would determine the fate of their financial situation.
Ever since Lizzy's father told the rest of the family over breakfast about what was to occur, he had hidden away from them in his study. This left Jane and Lizzy to be the rational ones, the speakers of sense and the only ones her mother could complain to. Of course darling, baby, Lydia was spared such talk since she was a victim here. No instead, Lizzy had to listen to hours of her mother saying how football is what ruined this house. Thinking back on it made Lizzy seethe, she took it out on the pillow she was currently fluffing.
"I've just got off the phone with Mary, she says that she'll be home tomorrow. Luckily she has time to take a holiday from Oxford. She isn't surprised with the situation, but she wants to be here to make sure that Mr. Collins doesn't swindle Papa." Jane said with a sigh as she flopped down onto the couch Lizzy had just straightened.
"That's all we would need. A two faced crook draining what little we do have left so we all end up living out of rubbish bins and turning tricks for a meal."
"Lizzy, stop that! It isn't all that bad. We are most likely going to lose the team, but we will still have this home. Papa will figure something out, you must just have some faith in him."
The sound of the door bell ceased any conversations that may have been occurring in the house. Mr. Bennet strode out of his study in a slightly rumpled button up shirt and tie to open the door. The rest of the family crowded into the foyer to get a look at the man that would determine their fate, and were slightly surprised to see a short, slightly pudgy man with slicked hair rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet.
"Ah, Mr. Collins, right on time. Do come in." Mr. Bennet said opening the door wider to admit him.
"What a charming home you have, Mr. Bennet. I'm sure if need be, we could find a buyer for it at once. Yes, lovely balustrades on the staircase. Of course not as lovely as the ones at Rosings, where dear Ms. DeBourgh, my primary client lives. You know her of course as she owns Manchester United. Ah, yes shall we take a seat in the reception room then? Perfect."
And strolling by the Bennet family, whose mouths were wide open in shock, without so much as a by your leave Mr. Collins found himself the nicest armchair and perched himself in it.
Following in his wake like lost ducklings chasing after their mother, they arranged themselves about the room with Mr. Bennet taking the closest seat to the dreaded consultant.
"Mr. Collins, this is my wife, Wendy." He said gesturing to his wife who was fluttering next to him on the couch.
Randall Collins' eyes lit up in a most comical way as he turned his attentions away from the crown moldings to the small blonde woman staring at him somewhat hesistantly.
"Charmed I'm sure… and these are all of your daughters?"
"Yes. That's my eldest, Jane, there perched at the window seat. Lizzy is the one sitting at the piano. And Lydia and Kitty are the ones sitting on the chaise over there. I have one more daughter, but she is currently at Oxford studying to be a solicitor so she won't be able to join us until tomorrow afternoon."
As he took in the women scattered about the room, Collins' gaze lingered more than once on Jane's exquisite beauty and her dark haired sister. Perhaps he would be able to mix business with pleasure on this trip, even though his most revered client, Catherine DeBourgh was strictly against it. She did however tell him to find a wife, and why not take such suitable candidates?
"Lovely. Mr. Bennet, perhaps it would be best if we discussed these matters somewhere more private. I would not want to bore your daughters with such technical and advanced terms."
Ushering Mr. Collins down the hall toward his study, Mr. Bennet threw an exasperated look over his shoulder which Lizzy caught and nearly laughed at. The rest of the occupants of the reception room seemed a bit startled by the manner of the financial consultant. They had all expected a pale man who was a bit thin, probably with glasses and clutching a briefcase. And though Collins did have a briefcase, which was genuine leather, or so he informed them, their similarities ended there.
"What do you think of him, Lizzy?" Jane asked as her sister joined her at the window seat.
"I think he's rather greasy, and probably still lives at home with his Mum."
"Don't say such things, Lizzy!" Mrs. Bennet snapped, "We all must be on our best behavior, in front of Mr. Collins. I dare say he's looked more than once at you, Jane. But he doesn't know of your blooming romance with Charles. So Lizzy, you must do as I've taught you, and use your womanly graces to ensare him."
"Mum! That's insane! Who does that? Honestly, as if I need to secure Mr. Collins to make sure we never lose the house. Can it be any more like a regency novel?"
"I'm not saying marry the man, I'm just saying to keep him happy and entertained."
Lizzy sulked and stared moodily out the window. If she didn't have enough on her plate as it was with Darcy, now Collins was thrown into the mix. All she had typed up of her article upstairs was the title: "'Pride Goeth Before the Fall': The Truth Behind William Darcy." And she wasn't even fond of that!
Kirkland was going to fire her for sure and her family now couldn't even take on supporting her as dead weight. She banged her head against the window and prayed that somewhere out there was a way for her to get out of this quagmire.
Her ear perked up at the sound of her father's study door opening and Collins' large voice filling the hall.
"Of course we can always talk more after dinner. Granted I am quite tired and will need to be shown the guest room after so that I may rest. I believe in firmly being in near proximity to my clients increases my chances of understanding them and better judging their financial circumstances. As Catherine DeBourgh would kindly say, 'it is best to be involved with the lives of ones who you look after because they often do not know what is best for themselves.' She applies this theory on her players of course, and on to her staff. And look how far she's gotten!"
Lizzy felt bile come up in her throat. That greasy goat of a man would be staying under the same roof? The only way this day could get worse would be if Darcy decided to waltz into her house and kiss her again.
But at least if he did that she could be assured that the tingling feeling and shortness of breath she'd felt last time, was due to being dropped and not due to his skilled mouth.
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There you go. No real Darcy & Lizzy interaction, but I needed to bring in Mr. Collins first. Please review. Thanks!