Chapter 5 - correspondence / vulnerability
Sleep had come quickly - she was more tired than she had thought, though whether from the physical exertion or the charged emotion, she could not say.
Mornings, however, did not agree with Elizabeth Bennet. It was a tight operation to get out of the door, with alarms carefully set to maximise time in the comfort of her bed. The last thing she needed was distraction from the sleek schedule of getting to the front door.
Her alarm hit her like a slap in the face. Though there was no pink on her cheek to accompany the force with which she was wrested from slumber, she felt the sting just as keenly. Immediately, she told her phone to stop, which it did. Resisting the urge to roll back over and forget about work for the day, she opened her eyes groggily. She stretched her tender muscles, noticing the slight twinge from the competitive games yesterday. As her eyes focussed on the room around her, she groaned at the thought of the tailored suit and professional heels that awaited her on the other side of a warm shower.
She tried to resist the urge to check her phone until she was on the tube and safe from her totally uncool desire to text back immediately, and did an admirable job of waiting until at least she had showered. Towelling herself dry, she checked the time on her phone out of habit.
Three unread messages.
There couldn't be any harm in checking them, could there? Her heart lurched as she considered it. Before she knew what she was about, she opened them.
WD: Good morning, Elizabeth.
The second was timestamped fifteen minutes after the first, and all three had been sent over an hour before she woke up.
WD: I hope it is not presumptuous of me to text first thing.
WD: In any case, I hope you have a pleasant start to your week.
She thought it endearing how overeager he was to keep the conversation going.
EB: Good morning, William. Must admit that mine is off to a groggy one, but what else is new? ;)
EB: Are you at work already?
EB: And here I am complaining about my early start!
His reply came quickly, and she was grateful for that.
WD: I am indeed at work, I prefer to front-end my day to leave time for more pleasurable pursuits after.
EB: Pleasurable pursuits, hmmm?
EB: Care to elaborate?
Just like that, he was thinking thoughts that were entirely not appropriate for work. He thanked his lucky stars that he was alone in his corner office, and that most of his staff did not start for another thirty minutes. So he allowed his mind to wander a little to just how much he wanted to pursue pleasure with her. He lingered there for a moment, considering it.
With force, he stood up and looked out of the window, hoping that the familiar skyline and the rush of people scurrying to work below would distract him from his dangerous train of thought. It worked somewhat, but he did turn the air conditioning up a jot just in case.
WD: Perhaps we should save that conversation until after work?
EB: Wow, even conversation is too much for work, huh?
WD: I've got a lot on my plate today. It wouldn't do allow distractions.
Little she knew. He had to get a grip. He was at major risk of coming across as a teenage boy, and he had a lot of staff for whom he definitely needed to be mature for.
EB: I mean, it's your workplace? Sure a couple of messages wouldn't cause a riot
WD: I work here, yes.
He was hedging, she could picture the wince. She opted for blunt. He had seemed to raise that sort of challenge from her during their tennis match. Screw it.
EB: I mean to say, it is your workplace, is it not?
EB: Mr Darcy ;)
She had reached the tube two minutes ago, so after stalling to reply to his texts she regretfully headed underground. She really couldn't afford to delay any more unless she wished to be late for work. As she descended the escalator, she watched as the bars of signal disappeared one by one from her phone. Despite the moving stairs that precluded any exertion on her part, her heart was thundering - she could only assume it was her body's response to the audacity of her last text.
She fretted the whole way to work that she had been too forward. She was almost certain that she had him pegged correctly, but she did not know where they would stand. What rubbish timing!
~.~
She was left fretting for the better part of the day. Her suspicions about who he was had at least been confirmed by her assistant Mark at around two in the afternoon, when he had dropped a calendar invite into her diary for the Thursday lunchtime. He popped his head into her office to confirm the time with her.
She could feel his burning curiosity when he asked her what William Darcy, CEO of Pemberley Digital, was doing by requesting a private lunch appointment with her.
"It's nothing serious, I'm not being headhunted or anything," she told him.
"Well that's a relief, though it's not quite what his assistant said." She had made a great deal of effort as a manager, and was glad to see that he seemed genuinely concerned at the idea of her jumping ship.
"It's for a potential merger of a smaller firm. He wanted to ask some advice, and had my contact info from that web project a while back. Guess he didn't want word of it going anywhere if he was being cryptic about it."
"Elizabeth, you should be careful-"
"Don't worry, I've told legal." She winced slightly at the white lie, and made a mental note to talk to them. She figured that it wasn't really necessary, but she had a friend there she could be honest with.
"Ok-" he seemed uncertain.
"Thanks Mark," she said brightly, and made her way to grab a coffee. Her phone usually remained silent in her bag whilst she was at work, but today she took it with her to the coffee machine. It had remained silent all day, ever since she sent that damn message.
She moped as she stirred a single sugar into her steaming latte. The thought that she might have ruined it left her sadder than she was willing to admit. She tried to remind herself that there was a lunch date in her diary for three days' time, but there was a small saboteur in her brain which told her those motions had been set long before she had spoken out of turn.
Her mother had, in all her wisdom, warned her that her impulsive nature would bite her in the end. She hadn't thought that she would care quite as much as she did.
It was a long afternoon after that.
~.~
William Darcy was no less out of sorts at his end. He had not known how to reply to her message in the morning, and before he had managed to come up with a witty response, he had a fire to fight in his mailbox.
Now he was worried too much time had passed. It was six thirty and he was walking home through the park, trying to watch the pavement in his periphery as he stared at her last message on his phone screen.
She had found him out, he knew that, and it thrilled him as much as it churned his stomach that she had made light of it. He'd be lying if he denied imagining her soft voice saying "Mr Darcy" at his ear. The thought had him staring with much less focussed eyes, until he heard someone shout at him to watch where he was walking.
Pull yourself together, he thought. He started and erased his reply five times before grunting in frustration and opting to wait until he was home, feigning an excuse to himself about how he needed to pay attention to where he was going.
A while later, he had eaten a solitary dinner - Georgie was out with friends - and replied to a few emails which couldn't wait. 8pm found him settled in a bath, listening to some music and light chatter on Radio 2 and trying to ignore the voice in his head that chided him for procrastinating. It seemed that a nice relaxing steep in the bath was not to be.
He reached for his phone carefully, drying his hands on a soft white towel before he managed to type out a reply.
WD: Sorry for the radio silence.
Why did he always seem to be apologising to her? It was quite an unfamiliar feeling to him, he was usually right about everything.
WD: You were correct in your assumption about my workplace. In so owning, I don't usually have time for messages in the middle of the day. And I didn't want to rush this conversation in between meetings.
He was relieved and terrified to see "typing" appear under her name almost immediately.
EB: I get it, William. I am not usually one for workplace messaging either
EB: sorry I pushed your buttons earlier
WD: We are as bad as each other
EB: how so?
WD: All this needless apologising. I for one quite enjoyed myself, just bad timing of a particular email and now you feel the need to apologise for a message that actually made me smile.
EB: that is such a relief!
WD: for me, too
EB: so, lunch on Thursday, then?
WD: Yes, of course.
There was a pause, but it was comfortable. Both were assured of their mutual interest. It was Elizabeth who replied first, trying to lighten the tone and loath for their conversation to end any sooner than never.
EB: my assistant thinks you're poaching me
WD: Let's see how Thursday goes. I wouldn't keep that possibility off the table.
EB: not likely, sorry. I like my job, and I'm good at it.
WD: Yes, I should imagine you are.
She blushed at the compliment and couldn't help a small but genuine smile that settled across her features.
EB: I told him it was about a potential merger
He found himself thinking that he wouldn't keep that off the table either, but held his fingers still rather than replying with something so suggestive.
WD: Do I need to invite my legal team?
EB: that depends…
WD: That depends on what?
EB: well, I very much enjoyed our double date. I'm thinking perhaps you did too and this is your way of telling me to pick a chaperone from my side, too.
WD: Absolutely not.
He felt irrationally heated at the idea of another double date. He realised just how much he was looking forward to getting to know her, uninterrupted, for an hour and a half.
EB: understood ;) I'll come alone!
And heat was replaced with relief, just like that.
EB: tell me, is the dress code for the place you've booked still all white, or can I wear what I please?
WD: Is that your mode of telling me you want to see my tennis gear again?
He couldn't help teasing her, it felt so natural.
EB: I mean, I hope I will see you in it again at some point
Shit, did she really just say that?
EB: but I was just joking with you.
EB: I think you can remember my face well enough
EB: that we don't have to do that cliched "I'll be wearing a red scarf" thing
EB: I'm assuming officewear appropriate given its lunch
EB: and we will both be coming from work
EB: right?
He smiled at the quick flurry of messages in succession. He enjoyed how her fingers appeared to be too fast for her brain, hitting enter whilst she was still thinking of the full sentence. And how she used punctuation either not at all or all at once. It was so different to the usual formality of messages he often received, and reminded him of his sister.
She had been teasing about his ability to recognize her. His rebuttal was clear, even without her profile picture to help.
WD: I think I can just about remember you.
He thought rather than typed the rest. Let's see… blazing green eyes, beautiful smile, soft-looking skin (pink with exertion, as I recall), hair that looks great to tangle my hands in, mouth that looks- he'd better slow down. Under the soap suds, there was nothing to restrict him from feeling the desire he felt as he finished that particular thought. He smiled to himself, glad that Georgiana was out that particular evening.
He typed the next almost as an afterthought.
WD: And yes, workwear. I'm looking forward to seeing you in it.
~.~
The next three days were a whirlwind, and Lizzy couldn't work out whether in a good way or not. She almost welcomed the relief of working hours when she wasn't in a heightened state of anticipation waiting for her phone to ping. She loved and hated it, in equal parts.
When she finally found herself leaving the office for Thursday lunch, she checked her watch to realise that she was running late. She cursed under her breath and picked up her pace.
When she finally arrived, she was only three minutes past the agreed meeting time. And that had been due to a tactical stop around the corner to check herself out in a window, rearrange her wayward outfit and spray a dab of perfume to cover her exertion. Happy with herself, she took a deep breath and entered the restaurant.
Of course, when the waiter showed her to a secluded table in the back corner, he was waiting there. He stood to greet her with a broad smile, which she returned in kind. The way the fabric of his suit flowed when he moved accentuated his toned body in a way that made her breath catch. Damn if she wasn't a sucker for someone in a well-cut suit.
He picked up on her ogling and smiled privately to himself, permitting his own exploration in kind. He had enjoyed the sportswear-clad Elizabeth Bennet a great deal, but this… on her… it took a moment before he was able to speak. Luckily, she covered for him.
"Mr Darcy," she said simply, with a cheeky smile. "It is a pleasure to see you again."
He was glad for the smile, for it told him that her formal greeting was not in seriousness.
"Ms Bennet, the pleasure is all mine. Thank you got agreeing to meet with me. I trust my assistant shared the agenda with you in advance"
She let out a quiet snort, and soon they were both laughing quietly. He was glad for the approach, which had saved any early awkwardness.
"OK, I think that's enough of that, William!" Her tone was joking. "I want to know why you let my poor assistant believe you were headhunting me?"
His eyes widened. "Maybe I am?" Just of the personal kind, he thought to himself.
Instantly, they were back to dancing on a knife edge of flirtation.
"Well, I told mine that you're thinking about a merger out of a project I did over five years ago. I had to think of something you would come up with a recruitment excuse to cover."
"Did they buy it?"
"He told me to talk to legal."
"So that's… Positive?" He smirked, and she reached for some water to quench her suddenly parched throat.
"Of course, where are my manners?" His contrition was somehow… Sexy? He continued unphased. "Still or sparkling?"
"Still, please. Never did get on with sparkling water, it's too spicy."
"Spicy water?" He deadpanned, and stopped with his hand on the lid of the bottle.
She blushed and nodded. He thought it was the cutest thing he'd seen in quite a while, and resumed his mission to pour her a glass. He took great joy in hearing the gentle hiss when he opened the other bottle and poured it into his glass.
He made a show of pretending to be a sommelier, trying in earnest to taste the underlying notes of spice in his glass. To her dismay, he neither smelled nor tasted any heat.
"Aaah, refreshing," he said, and she rolled her eyes in false annoyance. "Though I'm not picking up any spicy notes. Perhaps some hints of citrus, otherwise… it tastes like carbonated water."
She rolled her eyes, but her smile suggested there was no real annoyance.
She followed his juvenile display by asking if he was in the practice of real wine tasting, and they began to discuss their favourite grapes and vintages. He made a mental note of the vineyards she preferred, and she rolodexed the wine tasting evenings she could suggest for future dates. On making such a mental note, she shocked herself at how real those dates looked in her mind. So much for fake dating.
The hour and a half passed frustratingly quickly, and both were hungry for an extension when they reluctantly parted ways. They had fought over who would pay for the meal, with Lizzy finally conceding when he suggested that she pick up the tab for their next one, in a week's time. With the assurance of mutual interest, and the knowledge that he could certainly afford the expense, she had gratefully accepted his offer.
The only awkwardness of the whole affair had been when they stood up to leave. He extended his arm for a handshake, as they had exchanged upon arrival, and she had leant in for a hug and a kiss on the cheek. He had quickly diverted his hand to wrap around her back, and she had smoothly leaned into the hug. He was careful to keep his hand safely between her shoulder blades, appropriately professional given the setting. But to be so physically close to her, wrapped in the scent of her perfume, he felt his careful mask of professionalism slip slightly. He was determined to pursue the option of mutual exclusivity beyond the wedding that they were to feign a relationship for.