Thanks to all my betas who contributed in different ways: lovingyouisbest, JD Bell; Joy Booth and Fredrica.
Final tweaking is my own.
I am feeling a bit on the lazy side and am not currently planning on re editing the former chapter although I am not pleased with it. If I get at least one well written, kind comment encouraging me that the would like a different version of the chapter, I will re do it.
Comments give me energy- share some, please? Thanks as always to my faithful readers.
blue couch warning
MA warning- not in that order though!
She Sells Sanctuary
Yes, More MA
They traveled to Netherfield where he pulled Lizzy up, two steps at a time, up the outside stairs of the veranda and into his suite. Before he opened the door, Darcy again embraced her in a passionate kiss, tantalizing every particle of her being until all she felt was yearning.
Maddeningly, he pulled away, opening the door. "I need to show you this before we go any further. I'm prepared to explain." As Darcy spoke, he continued to trail his fingers delicately down her shoulders, over her biceps to the inside of her elbows, and finally her wrists and fingers.
"Okay?!" Lizzy whispered, looking at him oddly, following him. Walking into Darcy's studio, Lizzy found dozens of impressions of herself. "What is this about? Have you been surreptitiously drawing me?" Lizzy parted from him to more closely examine herself in his sketches and paintings.
He turned and looked out the window, nervously running his hands through his hair, "trying to explain these sketches to you is much more nervewracking than when I presented my DNA series to the jury at the prestigious _Gallery in Soho. These were from a long time ago- things I'd see in my mindseye. Imagine my great astonishment when you walked off those pictures in that club."
She didn't know what to make of his explanation. Lizzy always thought of herself as being 'the quirky one', not an object of someone's dreams. "You're not serious."
When Darcy turned to her he bore an intense expression, "Deadly. I see things sometimes. I guess my visions of you happened to be foreboding of a pleasant experience. Do you think you can believe me? I need you to believe me."
She used the excuse of poring over the multitude of images to avoid looking at him. "Honestly, it seems far fetched."
He sighed, and paced in front of the window for a moment then turned. "Maybe it would be more believable if you compared it with my body of work. Then you could see that the older pictures are indicative of my old style and the newer ones are consistent with the newer. If it weren't your image what would the work tell you?"
Lizzy concentrated on the various pieces, "Well, I see a progression in the various sketches characteristic of the changes your work has undergone. And the images themselves are wearing costumes from the eras that you followed at the time, not the ones I've worn, even if they are all consistent with my age now. But then, the ones that are older show a similar progression of your work in the materials used."
"Well, it seems you do follow my work." He caught her eye and grinned.
"I am quite a fan." She blushed, realizing that her admission made her at least a little hypocritical. Who was following who?
He approached, hesitantly pulling her into his arms. "Are we OK, then? I really want us to be OK. I want you to be OK."
She nodded and turned her face up, brushing her lips with his. Questions washed through her mind about his visions, but now was hardly the time to ask. Darcy had resumed his sensual pursuits, which sparked Lizzy's passionate nature which she'd previously held under such good regulation. Her body's impulses warred with inner reservations, forging a delicious conflict. She wondered if it was mercenary to allow his attentions. To be admired by such a man was an erotic ego boost. Screw it. I'm just going to enjoy this, Lizzy decided.
"I've dreamed of this since our last time. There's something I've wanted to do. Would you take off your clothes?" He whispered.
Lizzy pulled away, and, looking into Darcy's eyes, began to slowly strip her clothes. She was gratified at his response, staring at her, parting his lips and licking them. Darcy covered the chaise and had her recline, as he prepared a palette containing only 1 color and no canvas or paper. Lizzy's interest was piqued.
Darcy took a soft brush with the silky bristles and dabbed into the henna toned mixture. "Look into my eyes, don't peek, or I'll blindfold you." From the corner of her eyes, she saw him tracing curved, stylized designs on her hands. She felt the tip of Darcy's brush tease and tickle her fingers, running up her wrists in a viney writhing fashion. The brush was an extension of him, working its way up her arms, around her rib cage, all the while, Lizzy trained her eyes on his.
Each wordlessly communicated the immense sensual pleasure derived from the giving and taking of the experience. The fine and soft brush tickled, and the paint started out as cool, becoming tingly and Lizzy detected an odor of cocoa.
"I think I know your secret," Mr Darcy, Lizzy teased as her eyes glimmered.
"You have no idea." His intensity was startling and yet the brush remained gentle on her skin. She knew that any talented artist was able to render while keeping their eyes on the subject, so it was no mystery why he could perform two tasks simultaneously. But the statement was meant to convey more.
"Whatever do you mean? "She teased.
"From the moment we met, I've considered you the handsomest woman of my acquaintance, of many talents. I'm a selfish man and I want to experience your talents for myself as I share mine with you. I want to give you as much as you give me."
In a haze of pleasure, she couldn't fully absorb his meaning past the sensual. The brush, dipped intermittently in the warm cocoa mixture, continued to meander its way about her body, down her back. She grew more and more aroused as he brushed some design on her buttocks, her back arching into his work.
She was disappointed when he stopped, until he told her he had to make sure the design was dry, and blew on her. She groaned and he abandoned the task.
Darcy then put her in ecstatic agony when the brush swirled lightly under her arms. At her sharp intake of breath, he goaded, "Now, now, it wouldn't do for my work to be mussed. I'd only have to start all over again. Not that I'm complaining, but is that what you want?" He had taken her hand and held it tightly over her head as the brush continued to torture her ticklish under arm and rib cage area. Darcy's ravenous eyes fed on her sensual torture, she could tell, but she could only comply with his direction.
She wasn't certain whether it was a relief that his attentions turned to her breasts or not. The cool moistness of the brush teased her nipples erect, and the weight of her breasts undulated as she took ever shuddering breaths with each stroke. He was not kissing her, only watching, hardly taking his eyes off of hers although he clearly couldn't resist glimpsing her breasts, his eyes flicking to them as she breathed.
She wasn't quite sure how she was able to remain in her reclining position, as she surely wanted to heave her body on to his, rip his pants off and allow his phallus to sink into her core. She needed this more and more as Darcy painted his way down her torso, her breaths became more and more ragged. He finally tore his eyes away from hers as he had to make his way down her body.
She watched in the mirror while he paid exquisite care to her hips and stomach, their curvature womanly yet lithe. She anticipated his brush stroking lower and lower, only finding greater agonies when it detoured to tickle her feet. Darcy uttered another warning as he held her legs in place. She inhaled high pitched whimpering gasps as the brush's serpentine movement slowly ascended her shapely legs.
His eyes were pinned to her triangle and Darcy's hand slid up her inner thighs, parting them, the tips of his fingers lingering at her apex, now drenched. He then leaned back a little, slowly sizing up his work. His eyes were on hers again while his tongue flicked out to taste her essence on his fingers. "Almost finished." He told her, and she wondered when it would stop. She didn't want it to stop, but wanted a conclusion.
"Stay like that" he commanded. Then she watched as his brush put the finishing touches on her body, his masterpiece. The brush dipped into the chocolate paint again and painted her inner thighs, then spiraled into her outer folds, and teased her inner lips. She cried out and bucked as the brush tickled her clit. "Ah, ah, now I shall have to start over," he chided.
"All over?" Lizzy groaned.
"Well, just here" Darcy replied as a cool moist cloth removed the paint from her center.
"Again." His voice again commanded her to still as best she could. "Stay still."
Again the brush spiraled around her center and dipped in to tickle her clit. Lizzy desperately wanted thrust her pelvis toward the tormenting instrument but instead cried out yet again, this time a guttural howl, her hands clutching at the chaise's armrests. "Please finish. Finish me. Please." She beseeched him.
Wordlessly he took her hand and guided it to join in the effort of her pleasure while he took himself in hand. Lizzy felt a new agony as she was further aroused by his movements, while, at the same time, her senses were distracted from the circumspection of self pleasure. Lizzy could see Darcy getting more frantic in his efforts as he stared at her. His breathing was more labored, moans escaping from time to time. Darcy's arms, chest and thighs looked powerfully virile as he lowered himself and then pulled back up, repeatedly. She watched in fascination as Darcy came, his seed bursting forth, his body jerking his face contorted in ecstasy.
"Don't stop. Please. I want to see you come. Come for me. I love to watch you touch yourself." He whispered endlessly into her ear between his probing kisses. Finally his finger began lightly brushing over the tip of her clit. This stimulation proved to be more than she could bear and as she frantically probed her core the long surge became an overwhelming tidal force that seemed to go on forever.
Precious Things
Some MA at the beginning
The pillow talk in which they'd engaged was unexpected but welcome. He asked what she and Jane had been tussling over. She evaded the uncomfortable truth that he was the reason. Instead she recounted the dialogue about their family.
His response seemed to contradict their agreement about not having 'stories.' "Relationships are very messy. I've realized I'm more successful just showing that I care and offering support, no matter what I think of someone's choices. I should have been more aware of what was going on but should have… well I was too fucked up to see it at the time. .." Darcy shrugged "But, maybe that's the difference between my family and yours. And maybe you aren't as messed up as I was at that age. But that's enough about my stuff…I do know one person whose business I want to interfere with."
Lizzy wondered what Darcy was alluding to when he talked about relationships. He had been vague, yet it was clear that he didn't want to continue the conversation- not that it was such a good time, anyway. "Well I did rather enjoy your interference."
"Good. So did I. Very much. Much more successful sort of interference, wouldn't you say?" He got up to find a warm wet cloth and towel to dry her. He lovingly ministered to her needs, leaving her dewey and exhausted after their tete a tete.
She fell asleep, dreaming she was in a field sitting peacefully against a large rock that bore interesting ochre artwork. Before Lizzy could discern it, she heard animalistic sparring sounds, scrabbling and crashing. Looking around the boulder, she saw rams engaged in their ritualistic duel.
In all her years around animals, she'd never seen such an event before. It was frightening, primal. At one point the rams had retreated which was unusual for them to do when engaged in such an act. She looked on in horror as her father and Lydon had ambled into the field to the spot where the rams had previously been, and were again charging. She closed her eyes for a moment, hearing a crash and then nothing.
She opened her eyes to nothing but the field. Every other creature had disappeared. She ran to the middle of the field to see what had become of them all. In the place of their sparring, she found a pile of antique jewelry in various and sundry forms. When she went to touch it, the jewels were transformed into small, sweetly chirping golden birds that flew in a million directions. Lizzy awoke with a start.
Darcy was lounged next to her, laptop perched on his thighs, typing. She peeked, and, grasped the similarities Darcy drew between Lydon and his own dear brother Jorge. Lizzy wondered how long it had been since she'd gone to such effort to show her little brother the same support as she'd shown Jane or her other sisters for that matter. It became clear she'd been escaping from conflict- with Darcy and her family. The only way to rectify this was to engage more in the 'messiness' as Darcy put it.
Talk was inevitably curtailed. Surreptitiously ogling the way her breasts so nicely filled out his bedclothes, Darcy suggested they take a bath. Lizzy had no opposition to the activity. Their mutual washing and drying turned into caresses and kisses. Bodies soon melded together and they found themselves on Darcy's bed, Lizzy riding him as both found wondrous release. Afterward, Darcy and Lizzy slowly dressed, admiring each other in the mirror while getting ready.
Lizzy and Jane located their seats with Bingley and Darcy near the stage. The sisters had already given their family tickets to this show, having also invited them to Bingley's opening night party afterward. Everyone involved in the production was busy at least going back stage, bidding the players to break a leg.
Lizzy and Jane couldn't help but notice their family across the audience. They had unfortunately distinguished themselves in the crowd with abominable theatre etiquette.
She and Jane cringed as Dex, the resident playwright who was in front of them, turned around and looked daggers at the family. Others in the theatre were looking at them and whispering, some snickering when one of her family said or did something particularly embarrassing. This did not deter them. In fact Francesca was gesturing and speaking quickly to Lydon, clearly referring though her looks and gestures to Dex. Lizzy was afraid Dex was going to have them kicked out and moved to get up to warn them. She didn't need to: their activity calmed down when Wickham showed just before lights out.
She noticed Darcy bore an unreadable expression but was staring intently at Wickham. She had to nudge him out of the reverie. He shook himself, gazed down at her and took her hand, distractedly.
Their displays created in Lizzy a thousand uncomfortable realizations about her family and its impact on her work and relationships. They rarely attended her artistic endeavors. Now their behavior sabotaged her efforts to cultivate a career in her chosen field. Fear of her peers judgment marred this night, a night that should be triumphant evidence of her success.
She was constrained to go through the motions of celebrating. She had to see the Show to the end, if for no other reason than, it must go on.
Everybody's coming, leave your body and soul at the door
He had imbibed a little too much. He invited more than the theatrical crowd and their families and friends to the Netherfield opening night- he went so far as to invite colleagues from Santa Fe who were known to Caroline, Darcy and himself. In doing so, Charles exposed himself to a litany of questions about the work in his studio, the subject matter he had chosen, and just WHEN the world would have a chance to see his work.
He did his best to avoid their questions and return to his angel's side. He'd tried to answer his colleagues questions as briefly as possible. It gratified him that others were in such anticipation, but he was a man of his word. He had told her, after all, that the work wasn't going to be on display. But her work was just beyond that locked door, and the party was big, and what if someone got in? There were a lot of people interested in his big secret. Surely none of them would be that nosy? He wasn't that big, was he?
Caroline had taken the party over, enthusing about her plans to show this small town some culture and impress their friends from up north. Charles had been too busy to care up until that night. He and Caroline had finally discussed her hostessing and she huffed indignantly when he forbade her to show anyone his new work. Of course she wouldn't ever violate his agreements, she was a professional!
His sister stayed in that snit only until her first friend from Santa Fe arrived, then she was all graciousness. Charles hadn't missed it when she offered to show the friend their studios and Caro shot her brother a withering look while taking them to see hers, explaining with her characteristic charm that the men had their secrets.
Charles also discussed his concerns with Darcy earlier in the day, and he also had locked the door on his studio before the first guest arrived. Darcy remonstrated Charles on his lack of contract with Jane, which at least would have saved some worry over accidental viewings. Charles hated getting 'that look' from his friend. He wondered if Darcy was going to do that rescuer thing he hated. If so, he and Lizzy, and possibly a few other people would be in for a long night.
Adding to Charles's discomfort, Jane's family was also present. He hoped that no one was so nosy in that family as to try and get into the locked rooms that were so clearly private. At least they were in an entirely other area of the party that had a country western band set up. They still managed to embarrass her in some manner and she was quite consumed with containing them.
Charles secretly welcomed the distraction and hoped it would contain the Bennets. He was disappointed during the course of the evening, to find it did not. He could weather their effect on his career once it came out that Jane Bennet was with him. After all, her and Lizzy's behavior, even Mary's, was beyond reproach. Besides, he knew enough of many of their exploits to understand they would be hypocrites to be too judgmental. Now, if he could just keep everyone out of his studio. Maybe he should have hired a security guard to keep people out.
At some point during the party, Caro's new boyfriend Mike _ was milling about, enjoying the superb food, drink and company, even if he was momentarily left on his own while Caro showed yet another possible patron her newest work. He never tired of her, or the other company, but she needed her space to make the sale, so she left her to it.
He was pleasantly surprised when the photographer from earlier approached asking for some help. He couldn't get into one of the spaces he was supposed to photograph and wondered if Mike could help. Mike eagerly obliged with his copy of a key Caro had given him. He didn't think to tell Caro, Charles or anyone else, he was just being helpful in the usual way, after all.
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Darcy excused himself from Lizzy innumerable times with no good reason other than to talk to some friend or other, without bringing Elizabeth along.
She wove through the crowd to keep up with Darcy who had joined Caroline and her boyfriend. Elizabeth caught up with them, but the walk way was narrow enough that it only admitted enough room for 3. Darcy seemed unnoticing of the fact that he'd left Elizabeth behind as they talked at length about specific artists, openings and works of which Elizabeth had no acquaintance. They located their Santa Fe friends and conversation continued in the same manner.
She tried to join in a few times. Some at least recognized her. A few, after understanding who she was and the connection to the show, gave their compliments. Elizabeth tried to participate in discussions, relating her experiences from Lambton and Longborn, but found her conversational partners seemed to struggle with her meaning.
This must be some semblance of what my mother feels when she goes to dad's dreadful university events. And she must be at even more of a loss in such a place as the theatre. No wonder she is so anxiously fixated on being a mistress in the area she knows and at which she so excels. In that light no one could fault her.
Lizzy swore she would be different. She straightened her posture, took a deep breath, and again forged ahead, having lost sight of him again. Still, Darcy paying all his attention to his Santa Fe crowd with their insipid talk of the scene. Elizabeth wondered if this was the truth of him, more about the scene than what is meant in the work itself.
She stood on the outskirts of the crowd in this part of the party, noticing bored, snobby Ivy League types mixing with wealthy new age hippies, distinguished faculty, and a few true eccentrics. Maeve, for example, was the center of a party off to the side. Of course that crowd had more eccentrics than anything. Had Lizzy been of the right mind, she would have joined her mentor. Or at least the party would have been interesting studies in personal style.
Instead, consumed in self consciousness, Lizzy looked down to her outfit. It was a lovely 30's lace gown that had been embellished with various swathes of chiffon because Lizzy had once torn the gossamer overdress. Her look, complete with moon and star accents, was an ode to Hedy Lamarr. The effect of her work was breathtaking but all Lizzy saw were her amateurish efforts in the face of people wearing bespoke tailored suits, boutique pieces and vintage couture.
She also couldn't help listening in to bits and pieces of conversation held by some of the snobs nearby.
"Can you believe those peoples' behavior tonight at the theatre? Just what I'd expect in Dona Maria. The south is so uncultured. A bunch of ignorant farmers and ranchers who watch Fox News." One sniffed.
Lizzy rolled her eyes and moved on. She unfortunately saw and heard more than one person comment on her family's behavior. Lizzy resolved to allow their future disinterest and wished she'd not insisted in their attending. It couldn't be undone now, but she assumed that there were far worse behaviors than rude theatre behavior. Wasn't there? Isn't that the stereotype for artists? She moved further through the crowd.
Another gossiped "What can he mean by being so intimidating, threatening us with legal action if we look in the studio? It makes me want to look inside. You know, both Bingley and Darcy have their fair share of models. I wonder if we'll find something enticing. Caroline is a sly thing, she hints one of them is here tonight, I wonder who it is?" She could't un listen, the words couldn't be unsaid and now her spirit was rolling inexorably down like boulders tumbling over a cliff, and she was trying desperately to stop the avalanche.
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Lizzy determinedly fought her way through the bodies ducking and peering through to clearings, then seeking her goal, an ever moving target. His eyes swept over the crowds and more than once landed on her. Still he was on the move searching for someone, and that person was obviously not her. He was truly avoiding her.
She didn't care. Desperation and anger warred within her breast as her legs insisted on continuing towards their goal. Once arriving before him, Darcy finally held his pace as he towered over her, drinking her in with an intensity of expression that was yet mysterious for what it conveyed.
She hadn't known what she intended in her quest to be of notice. And so, the urge to call him out fled as Lizzy realized that she didn't want to appear, didn't want to be, insecure in public. She would have to confront him about his interference later, away from the crowd. To do so here, now, would prove to people here that she truly didn't belong here, didn't belong with him.
Instead she inquired if he wanted to go to where there was music so they could dance. Darcy tucked his head thoughtfully. "No, but I appreciate your effort coming all this way to ask. I have some urgent business. I will see you later?"
She looked at him incredulously, but still lacked the courage to confront him on what could account for such a material change from this afternoon. "I'm afraid this can't wait."
He searched her eyes. He then scanned the crowd, as if to look around to see if his horde of followers needed anything. At least that is how it looked to Lizzy. If she weren't so afraid of her pictures being revealed, she'd have stormed off, but as it was "… Very well."
He pulled her to the area where the studios were, around them people buzzed but Darcy had a skill with looking intensely forbidding when he chose and so the crowd seemed to shrink away from them. He kept his voice measured but she could tell he was testy. "What can I do for you?"
"I overheard someone who was too curious about your and Charles's studios, hoping to find pictures with models."She spat out the last word.
His eyes widened momentarily and grabbed her shoulders trying to reassure her, "You needn't worry. I am taking care of that as we speak. Let me worry about that. What I said the first night wasn't just a silly song quote. This night is supposed to be your night. Enjoy yourself."
Her eyes grew hard. Either he didn't notice or didn't care. "Of course. I am quite busy with everyone is in a rush to congratulate me."
"Well, there you have it. I would not suspend any happiness due to you in the form of well deserved praise for your talented hard work". Darcy looked up, noticing something. There were so many people milling about that Lizzy couldn't tell where he was looking.
She shook her head. "Yes, I will certainly enjoy myself."
"You and Jane have nothing to worry about." She tensed. What did Jane have to do with any of this? She was about to ask him about what Caroline knew, about the 'Jane' comment, when he pecked her on the cheek and slipped away in pursuit of someone.
Conversation 16
Elizabeth located Maya after Darcy left. Her friend's buoyant personality enabled her to be a little more celebratory. Lizzy had to laugh or else she might very well cry. It should be no matter tonight. It should be a night of triumph. It was, sort of. Not exactly.
She had to admit that a good many people that night, in fact, had congratulated her success- from Dr. Lucas, to every last member of the theatre faculty- even the grudging musical theater holdouts.
Her mother persisted in making comments that clearly showed her lack of understanding. "But why must those women wear such high waisted dresses! It's so unflattering! Well, it wasn't Lizzy's fault, you know what they say about a pig in lipstick."
No, Lizzy wasn't entirely sure what her mother meant. She was too furious to ask.
Maya had correctly pointed out yet again her mother's resemblance to Nathan Lane in the Birdcage- complete with her inane comments. Maya tried to help her see the humor in it but Lizzy was too hurt that her mother couldn't, even this one time, congratulate her on her success.
Maya and Lizzy soon after succeeded in sampling every last canape from the abundance of catering trays, becoming quite tipsy from the endless supply of strong and tasty cocktails. The friends' attention turned to a band playing in one corner of the estate, a fun sort of Velvet Underground-y garage-y affair. They were exceedingly amusing to Lizzy's current state of celebratory delirium. Plus the singer was flirting with her and Maya.
This was a little gratifying as she felt more than a little neglected by the minimally attentive Darcy. He still seemed more occupied with chatting up his Santa Fe buddies and kept looking furtively around yet not noticing her.
She had been secretly hoping that they would spend their night together in the manner as they had earlier. She hoped whatever 'business' he had would be finished in short order, so at least the rest of the night would be saved. The party had been going on for a couple of hours and he was still otherwise engaged. She found it hard to believe this was about keeping snooping people away from his studio. What was so top secret, anyway?
Suddenly, Darcy deigned to notice when Lizzy and Maya were sharing a laugh with 'Lou Reed'. Darcy appeared quite put off by the joke. She had never seen a rock star act so intimidated before. But Mr. Tall Dark and Handsome could certainly look stormy and unapproachable-nay, threatening- when he wanted to.
Maya took the hint and high tailed it, under the guise of asking 'Lou Reed' if he would dance with her when the DJ took over. He was playing that certain song from their first joining.
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Lizzy would not be intimidated by his stares nor the song which referenced their auspicious meeting. "Fitz, I believe it is customary to have some intercourse." She wasn't flirting so much as attempting to provoke.
"I can't tell you how much I've been anticipating the… anticipation of our… intercourse," he stuttered, "How do you propose we begin?"
"First I shall discuss the weather- My but it is unseasonably hot, don't you think?" She took off her exquisite hand crocheted shawl to display a well fitting ensemble that left little to the imagination. If the look in his eyes was any indication, Darcy had a good imagination, if not a good memory…
"You are suitably attired of such fine weather, but I have little choice". He gestured to himself. "Shirtsleeves and slacks- nothing else for me to take off. For the moment I'm at a disadvantage but I admit I rather like it. You put me quite in danger of losing my focus."
His head was moving towards hers when it jerked up and she could see him following something in the direction of Charles's studio. Changing his tone and stepping back as he danced, he asked, "Enough about the weather, have you read any good books lately?" He said while half looking at her, and half in the other direction.
Lizzy reached her limit with this odd behavior. "Books? You know me to be an avid reader but do I LOOK interested in BOOKS at the moment? Do I look dressed for a date with the LIBRARY?" Her ire increased in direct proportion with the tone and volume of her voice. Abruptly halting, eyes filling with tears, she escaped through the crowd, leaving Darcy holding her shawl.
He'd clearly bungled things yet again. Damn if there wasn't far too much activity to keep track of. She sought a dark corner where people wouldn't notice her. She stood back against the patio wall where some revelers were enjoying Karaoke. Tired of holding back the questions, her mind turned over and over.
How did he categorize their-whatever? How did she? Were they a couple? Were they dating? She didn't think they were merely f-buddies after what he had said to her. And he continued to show her consideration when they were together- as little as that had been.
But tonight surely he had no excuse, not after today.
She wasn't 'making stories' as Darcy would put it, she just had to know what he was about. He demanded there be 'no drama'; refusing to talk. What a hypocrite! If he were the one who was 'on bottom' so to speak, she doubted he would take such reticence sedately. That was it. He demanded she play by his rules and she had. The realization was like a punch in the gut. She'd really tried to change for him.
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Struggling to gather more thoughts, Lizzy became distracted by the exceedingly odd behavior of her brother.
Lydon was with a group singing Karaoke, louder than usual, and his language was exceedingly foul, to the point of being bizarre. He was in the middle of some of her flamboyant theatre friends, obviously flirting with the men, which would have been fine except that Lydon was 17 and them men, Lizzy knew ranged in age from 23- 30, some older.
Instead of the usual cowboy gear or jeans, he had makeup on and his twill slacks were belted with someone's scarf and tucked into his boots, looking like a young shirtless Adam Ant. Lizzy had the misfortune of witnessing her father walk up to the group just as Lydon kissed one of the men while they were performing a Morrissey tune.
"Well, well, playing the Captain Jack Sparrow part to a tee, I'd say," her father quipped. He hadn't even seemed concerned that his 16 year old son was acting strangely and flirting with older men. Instead, her father just walked off.
She saw that Darcy had come upon the scene, to witnessing Mr. Bennet's quip, staying for the rest, until Lydon pranced back to his friends. He seemed to not even realize Lizzy was in the background. All Darcy seemed to see were details that, to fortunate people, appeared innocuous. Lizzy then watched in shock as Darcy started yelling, and breaking things. People stalked off. Some cast furtive glances and seemed to disgustedly leave the party altogether.
These were students she worked with, who were fun and interesting sorts although they had been acquaintances with whom she'd spent only a little time outside the theatre, usually when the production ended up at The Club or El Patio*. Lizzy shrunk back a little, trying to decide what to do now, as Darcy cornered Lydon and proceeded to lecture him. She could only hear snippets about 'dangerous behavior', 'crazy' and 'family' while Lydon sulked and messed with his I phone.
She was taken aback when Wickham appeared out of nowhere, taking Lydon's side, making comments about how Darcy thought himself better than small town rednecks; how he interfered with things that weren't his business. What was worse, he accused Darcy of hating his own brother and himself for being gay, and he hated Lydon for the same reason.
Darcy took Wickham by his collar and quietly growled something to his old 'friend'. Lizzy only saw Wickham's bravado disappear with Darcy's unheard threat. Lydon grew even more sulky and grudgingly followed Darcy. Lizzy couldn't account for Darcy's contradictory behavior. He had, just this afternoon, agreed with Jane's perspective about letting people work things out themselves.
Lizzy followed them, trying to make sense of the situation, keeping a distance. Why didn't she interfere? She couldn't have answered why.
Lydon in tow, Darcy searched for, and quickly found, Mr. Bennet. They spoke in low voices and then her father turned around and called his wife over. She launched into an hysterical tirade, gesticulating and occasionally punctuating whatever she was saying by hitting Lydon with her purse. Then, they all got in Mr. Bennet's SUV.
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Darcy stood there, checking his phone and sending some messages, then looked around and went in the house. Lizzy decided that she had enough and started digging through her purse to get her keys. She had them in hand when she heard:
"There you are. NOW we can finally be together. I'm looking forward to getting you back in my room and showing you just how happy I am about that prospect. Oh, and we're going to Santa Fe tomorrow with your parents and Lydon. And, I have to talk to Bingley and Jane about his work before we go in the morning, so we can't be up too late, if you know what I mean." Suddenly Darcy was before her, his hand on her shoulder.
She moved away. "No, I DON'T know what you mean. I don't know what any of it means."
He bent down, soothing, "Well don't worry about that now, we'll have plenty of time to discuss it tomorrow. I'm done talking. Less talking, more kissing. And definitely less clothing."
She backed away, raising her voice, "Aaaand, you think I'm going to fuck you in what universe? Because the Lizzy who you neglected all night, who you didn't see fit to introduce to your snobby artist friends, didn't even see fit to walk with, who was just in a rage 5 minutes ago with my brother? The same Lizzy who you neglected to explain about people who might be curious about certain pictures? Oh yeah, AGAIN without seeing FIT to let ME know what was going on. Then, one of your oldest friends shows up and says how you hate gay people and disapprove of my family. And you aren't in a mood to talk? And you expect me to fuck?"
He looked at her, clearly stunned, "Well, unlike you, I try not to assume anything, But, I had hoped we could be together, after I took care of everything. Trust me, you don't need to ruin your night thinking about it."
She held her purse like a shield against her breast. "No, I don't, because you've already ruined it for me. And from what I understand, you're trying to do the same for Jane and Bingley."
He sighed and ran his hand through his hair, "I was trying to take care of your family and this is the thanks I get? No, you ruined it for yourself by your presumptions. I never pegged you for a diva but I gotta hand it to you, princess, you really think your delusional world revolves around your precious head right about now."
She put her hands on her hips, "Really Han Solo? And you think you can just swagger in and rescue me by acting like a jackass to me, my family, and friends, then expect me to go 'oh, my hero!' for whatever the hell you supposedly did that I don't even know about?"
He held his hands out in surrender, "It's not like that."
"Then what is it like? Tell me." She hissed.
"FINE!" He bellowed. "I didn't want to talk anymore, I was ready to spend time with you, but since you can't trust me to LET IT WAIT, I'll tell you: I was trying to find Bingley to make sure he knew people were in his studio, in case his work with Jane was out.
In the middle of that, I found Lydon smoking spice with those actors, and then he ignored me while I was trying talk to him. Apparently he texted that cur who has wormed his way into your family. Wickham showed up, ostensibly to take Lydon somewhere, probably to do something that they shouldn't be doing. I threatened Wickham and he left, then I told your parents that their son was doing drugs.
It wasn't about you. You aren't his mother or father and they needed to know. We were supposed to go to Santa Fe tomorrow, because I suggested it would be a good place for Lydon to spend a couple of weeks and get straightened out, away from that man who is a horrible influence."
Abashed at her own assumptions, guilt arose. "I appreciate what you did, you were a bit officious, not talking to me about it. I didn't get to make choices myself. You made them for me. My family needs me now; I think I need to go." The pain was too raw for any further discussion.
She didn't even say goodbye to Jane or Maya. Taking her things, Lizzy drove home, finding her parents and brother already asleep. She wrote a note asking them to wake her up in the morning so she could go with them, then collapsed into bed, clothes, makeup and all.
Well? comments are so very welcome!