Thank you to all my readers who have waited patiently for this next installment!
I changed chapter 15 just a tad based on a review. Thanks for the input about the patina :) I think I just like writing the word. I should have realized when I wrote it but it slipped by me. patina patina patina. There. I got that out of my system. Maybe ;)
Thanks to all my betas who contributed in different ways: lovingyouisbest, JD Bell; Joy Booth and Fredrica.
Final tweaking is my own.
blue couch warning is still up
Tranquilize
Lizzy didn't drag herself out of bed until 11:00 the next morning, which she found curious. She wandered through the house, then, looking outside, saw that both her parent's cars were still in the drive. Lizzy located them at the corral, watching Lydon muck out the horse stalls and lecturing him. She ventured "I thought we-"
Her father, in rare form interrupted, "Well, Lizzy, it seems Lydon refuses to go to Santa Fe. He insists this was just one time, and had Wickham been there, he would have known those cigarettes weren't cloves…"
Her mother then interrupted him, "and he would never have been fooled by those wild actor friends of yours. I just knew it was a mistake for you to be in that place instead of being a Home Ec major. It's the last time I'll set foot in there, that's what I say."
Lizzy pinched the bridge of her nose. "Mama, those people weren't my friends."
Her mother wasn't finished, "You work with those people, spending more time with them than you do with your own family, I daresay. Wickham has told me more than enough about the theatre and art people you associate with. Nothing good can come of it, I assure you. If you return to that place, I'm sure I shall never speak to you. And you can find some other way to pay your expenses the rest of the way in school."
Lizzy looked to her father, "Daddy, surely you can see reason."
He crossed his arms, "Well Lizzy, it seems you have a dilemma before you. If you don't leave Theatre, your mother will never speak to you and will refuse to pay your expenses. If you do, your Daddy will never speak to you and will refuse to pay your expenses. What will it be?"
She looked at her mother in supplication, "I can't abandon the Theatre, I love my school and I'm proud of what I do."
"Just so." Her father nodded in approval. "Don't you worry about your poor parents and your miserable brother. We'll take care of him. We will thank your friend for his services but they aren't needed. You see, your friend made a bigger deal of things than they really are. It will sort itself out, and with little trouble Mr. Darcy, myself or anyone else but Lydon. You'll see."
Lizzy was reluctant to believe the matter of Lydon done with so little trouble to her family. She was utterly spent, regardless, and not a little thankful that she apparently wouldn't be going to Santa Fe. She texted Darcy as much, and promptly turned off her phone then crawled back into bed. The next 2 days found mostly in pajamas, in bed, having a weekend lie-in. She couldn't face any of it. Not Darcy, not Lydon. Jane was at Netherfield.
Lizzy didn't have the energy to keep up with her family or the others. She hadn't slept or rested in so long and decided to watch via streaming any period drama involving strong female leads. She found particular escape in a witty flapper lady detective, and not a little style inspiration from her doctor friend.
PPPxoxNMxoxPPPxoxNMxoxPPP
Monday after opening night Lizzy was determined to get back into the routine and woke up before dawn. With a few days to clear her head Lizzy had found that things about Darcy didn't add up- about Lydon, as well as his history with Wickham. She was feeling a sense of foreboding about the subject, yet also had been missing Darcy. Having his arms around her would be such a reassurance to her doubts.
She decided to go for a ride when Lydon and Wickham rode up in Lydon's beat up old Ford. Lydon went inside the house to get school books, leaving Wickham to his own devices. Lizzy's back was to the doorway of the barn, she was listening to the Cowboy Junkies station, totally absorbed in saddling Eos. Suddenly she was embraced from behind and Lizzy melted into the embrace she'd been anticipating. Seconds passed until she realized this man's scent, technique, and feel were different. Turning around, realizing her mistake she cried out. "Wickham! What the hell!?" Lizzy's face was hot with anger.
Wickham just grinned, "I liked your initial response better! Did you think I was someone else?"
Lizzy was exploding at his lack of propriety. "GET OUT!" Wickham merely laughed. Deciding to give him a dose of his own medicine, Lizzy mounted Eos, who had been fidgeting about nervously. She urged the stallion on, and he lurched forward in an agitated gait.
Wickham had no choice but to back against the wall to avoid being trampled. "Hey, I was just joking around. You know I'm actually interested in another Bennet!"
She took the horse in a cantering circle around the orchard, doubling back after about 5 minutes. She had not seen Darcy's Mercedes parked under the carport. Lizzy decided to go back into the barn after she saw Lydon and Wickham leave. As she entered, Lizzy noticed the Mercedes and dismounted, tying Eos to a post and looking for Darcy. Her nerves were raw with anticipation. Even though she didn't intentionally embrace another man, she felt guilty that it was initially as pleasurable as Darcy's embrace. Darcy and her father looked upon Lizzy with unreadable expressions.
Lizzy hoped her own countenance was equally inscrutable as she took in Darcy's ensemble. He was wearing worn classic Levi's and some worn Justins, a smart tweed vest and blazer and a thick modern Indian made sterling cuff and dangling from the vest an antique pocketwatch. But, instantly, she noticed something else: Darcy was wearing her old T Shirt under his vest/ blazer, the distinctive paint spatter peeking from under the vest.
Elizabeth had not witnessed their earlier conversation:
"I like that old tee shirt you were wearing. I wish Francesca were here to see it. Good to know people patronize our Goodwill." With every syllable, Darcy's blush grew deeper and Edward was enjoying himself more and more." I haven't gotten a chance yet to thank Lizzy for finally respecting her mother's nerves and getting rid of the thing."
"Yes," Darcy managed to rasp out, weakly, his eyes glued to the floor. He took a deep breath and decided he had to come clean. He needed an ally- he also decided in this case that he shouldn't adopt the first name basis they'd used when they were drinking buddies. "Mr. Bennet, I-uh- borrowed it from Lizzy. I like your daughter-very, very much. I hope to be able to- get to know her better and better- for a- long time to come. I have been –careful, discreet, and- not prodigious in my-uh- friendships. She's my only…friend."
"That's good to know, because really, one doesn't need too many - it looks tacky. That goes for both old concert shirts, AND…friends as you call them."
Darcy nodded, "We understand each other, sir."
"I hope we do!" He looked Darcy squarely in the eye. Darcy did not mistake the hint of humor in his otherwise steely glint.
Instead, Lizzy walked in moments too late and was greeted thusly:
"I'm sorry, Elizabeth, I was hoping to see you this morning, but I have to be on my way now or I'll be late. Let's get coffee later today?"
Lizzy muttered something in the affirmative, blushing. Darcy smiled ever so slightly and said his goodbyes.
She looked at her father and suspected this to be the reason for his looks. She wondered how long Darcy had been there and if by some horrible chance he had seen Wickham, fearing even worse, that Darcy saw the embrace at the most inopportune time.
"My dear, you quite surprise me," he said mildly. "It appears that you have secured the affections of two gentlemen in a very short time span. Tell me, just what are their intentions, and yours? I never suspected my Lizzy to be the sort who 'hooked up' as my students say."
"Daddy!" Needing to distract from the conversation, Lizzy started doing dishes, making sure to be as noisy as possible to fend off any more of her dad's conversation. He had given up talking but kept his 'ground', insisting upon reading his paper at the kitchen table, an unusual place for him to read, Lizzy felt uncomfortably watched. As she vigorously washed and washed a single plate, she finally muttered, "Wickham came up behind me. I thought he was Darcy. When I found out, I yelled at him and he just laughed. So, I got on the horse and scared Wickham. When I was sure he was gone, I was about to come inside anyway, and I see Darcy's car there. He didn't see, I take it?"
He looked back down, resuming the paper he'd previously been reading. "No, I had gone to find you. He was in the kitchen and we had been visiting when I presume Wickham and Lydon pulled up. That Wickham is a real jokester. I'm sure you taught him a lesson."
"I think maybe you should reinforce the lesson," she said, through grit teeth, as she continued to wash the unsuspecting plate. She finally realized it was clean and worked her way through the rest.
After several minutes, Lizzy's phone rang. It was Maya. "Where are you?"
"At home, of course! Class isn't till 850!" Lizzy answered.
Maya urged, "Well, come in to class early. You won't believe it but a certain man is sub-ing in 19th century Art History! You can ogle him while we go over our test flash cards! Rumor has it he's also here to jury the student show and will select guest artists who will go to the Studio in Santa Fe."
"Do you know his name?" Lizzy asked.
"Didn't you figure it out yet? It's that hottie Darcy- the one you swore you hated but you followed him around and he was ogling and flirting with you Friday night. Hey! Wait a minute, he's the same one you complained about to me- that scenic artist…." Maya's voice changed in recognition
"Fuck! "Lizzy shouted.
Her father looked at her over his spectacles, "Lizzy! Language!"
She blushed, "Sorry."
Don't Stand So Close To Me
Lizzy wondered if her morning could get even more mortifying. At least her exclamation seemed to halt Maya's speculations- for now. "Uh, I cant come in early. I just realized I forgot to uh feed the goats."
"I have never known you to curse so soundly over having to feed goats. Come to think of it, I can't remember you last feeding goats!" Maya teased. "Alright, have it your way. I'll get Teacher to myself." Lizzy hung up, racing around getting ready for class.
"You don't have to feed the goats! ?" Her father asked. He shook his head, folded his paper, and began preparations to leave for his own day at the university.
Lizzy finished getting ready and found she had time on her hands which sent her into a fit of pacing, and flitting about, attempting to pass the time. She almost looked like her mother. The clock surely ran in slow motion as she contemplated the situation. Her relationship with this man was becoming more and more convoluted. How could she go on a date with the man who was going to be grading her term papers and viewing her piece – supposedly in an unbiased manner- for the juried exhibit?
She would NEVER sleep around to further her work. Even if the relationship came before her work, she wouldn't allow it to stay that way. Darcy was altogether too much of a mystery to fathom sacrificing a class or a scholarship for. Darcy had to be the one to go. Tears of frustration and loss welled up and Lizzy gave in for a few moments.
Determined to change her appearance Lizzy dried her tears and applied her makeup. She avoided wearing her usual sensual combinations inspired by women in history. Instead she put on wide-legged tweed slacks, some natty brogues, a patterned wool vest with a plum wool trench and long paisley scarf. To appear less recognizable she pinned her hair in fingerwaves and donned a fedora, removing her contacts in favor of horn rimmed glasses. Lizzy gathered her supplies and was on her way.
"You look like Truman Capote!" was the exclamation with which Maya greeted Lizzy's arrival in the classroom. Maya cleared the space she was saving for Lizzy, who plopped down, taking out books, paper and pens for the lecture.
"I was thinking the great Darcy would be gay and would notice me this way," Lizzy dryly kidded.
"Well if you looked like Morrissey, at least you'd look more cheerful." Maya replied.
"Huh. Not that anything would really help." Lizzy said, under her breath. "Couldn't you have picked a spot in the back so we could slip out or fall asleep if he's boring?"
"Wow, you're in a mood! I know you don't like having to do all the chores outside, but goats cannot be the reason for this. Do you have an attack of the nerves like your mom?" Maya was twirling her pencil as she sat, waiting for the class to start.
"I guess" Lizzy said, her voice small. "I need to go outside for a minute."Lizzy ran to the restroom and stood at the sink, shaking. She turned on the warm water, letting it run over her hands. This always relaxed her. Breathing slowly, Lizzy rubbed her hands under the warmth for several seconds then dried them. Checking her makeup, she reapplied her berry lip stain and blotted the corners of her eyes. She rearranged her fedora and hairpins, pulled off her trench, took another breath and stepped into the hallway.
Soon voices could be heard in the adjacent gallery. "I see where the artist was going with the piece but it's a technically inept attempt. This is all over the place- it looks like the artist didn't know how to do the stitches. I get that it is a theoretical piece with found objects, but it is inadequately conveyed due to poor craftsmanship. Perhaps this artist would benefit from more rigorous studies of the craft. I would expect as much from someone who is presumably studying to become a professional in this field."
She couldn't hear the question, but Lizzy clearly heard Darcy's answer: "The project was tolerable I suppose but not enough to induce me to return. I'm not generally in the habit of working in poor excuses for schools where 'quote' artists teach and washed up students make 'quote' art. Such places embody their very name- they are the last resort for those who haven't enough talent or discipline in their actual profession. It's not fair to professionals like me or the poor sods who come to you to 'study' while you take their money under false pretenses".
Her heart, already low, felt like it had dropped out of her body. She knew Darcy was talking about the piece she submitted. 'Mourning Veil' and was a veil piece crocheted together with other handmade and found objects. She was livid at the criticism Darcy had leveled. The presumption!
She bet he had no idea how to crochet and didn't realize the types of stitches she had used. She had indeed done several studies to get the fiber just right, she had crocheted since the age of 10, she had been given an A on this project by her teacher and it had been widely admired by the rest of the class. It even inspired some classmates to learn the technique. And what about her production work? Her costumes in particular got good reviews in the local papers and the show received a standing ovation opening night! Where Lizzy lacked other evidence in defense of her own talent, she made up for it in defensiveness.
Lizzy shakily held it together, telling herself she was just paying dues, and she had to go to class or she would lose a grade point, telling herself to be strong. And then, without remembering how it happened, Lizzy was sitting next to Maya in class, and Darcy was taking his place in front, preparing the powerpoint for his lecture.
"Lizzy, you're white as a ghost and your hand is shaking! Are you ok?" Maya asked.
"NO. But I can't talk about it." She said in a low voice.
"Cmon. It's ok. Let it out honey." Maya rubbed her back. Lizzy stifled a sob and told Maya what she'd overheard, omitting the part about already knowing Darcy in a biblical sense. "Sweetie, that is the worst. That man is the biggest pompous ass. And he's an old school romantic no less. He totally doesn't get anything made after The Symbolists. I'm so sorry Lizzy. I hate getting bad critiques from a bad critic. (Sigh,) is this what we have to look forward to? Jerks who don't know about our work, criticizing it? Tell me again why we're here?"
Darcy had walked forward and had heard Maya's last question. "In service of Beauty, madam. At least, that is why I'm here. Why are you here, Ms….?"
"Maya. I thought I was paying money to this institution so that I could better refine my skills and have professional opportunities with masters."
Darcy's eyes shifted and focused on Lizzy. His eyes widened in recognition, cleared his throat, shuffled momentarily, then picked up where he left of, focusing on a fixed spot on the back wall. "The Sublime. This is what the Romantics aspired to evoke, and this was what they served. To the Romantics….." Darcy's lecture had begun.
tell me what you think ...
I'll be back later this weekend!
blue couch warning will continue for a bit.
I don't think the couch is really a deep blue, more like a pastel blue, but that's just me...