Chapter 8 - separation / longing
The next two weeks were agonising. They were still texting, but she could tell he had lost some of his prior enthusiasm for sharing his thoughts and emotions. It felt like he was going through the motions, and she hated that she was the inadvertent cause. Especially when she wanted to throw caution to the wind and stop caring about what people may think. But one of them had to remain sensible.
He had been unable to bring himself to cancel their Thursday lunch dates, no matter how much his bruised ego told him that he should. Any part of her that she was willing to give, he was willing to take. Christ, if that wasn't messed up.
So he found himself, a week before the wedding, attending a "business meeting" with her, alone, at the Italian around the corner - or so it was scheduled in his diary.
"What are we doing?" He asked in a direct manner, after they had exchanged awkward pleasantries over the appetisers. Their conversation, which once flowed like the Seine, had been replaced by stilted back and forth, and he wasn't sure he could stand it.
"We are coworkers out for a business lunch, who just so happen to be moonlighting as boyfriend and girlfriend for a salubrious wedding next weekend?" Her tone was light, but it belied a real insecurity. Looking over at him, she saw bags under his eyes that spoke of more than the physical exhaustion of running his own company. There was a deep tiredness that came from the constant emotional upheaval of wanting her, but not wanting to blow it. He chuckled but it was empty.
"Lizzy," his tone was like a flood warning, and she begged him with her eyes not to open the gates to the flow. He ignored her silent plea and steamed ahead. "I am not one to back out of a deal once a handshake has been given."
What was that supposed to mean? She held her breath, waiting for his verdict.
"So I will attend Charlotte's wedding and we will pretend there to be with each other."
She hated how he sounded like she had him over a barrel. The word pretend burned like acid in his throat and left thick smoke in hers.
"But I don't think I can do this anymore." His voice broke as he gestured between them. "The constant pretending, I can't-"
"Don't-" she pleaded. "Don't do this."
How did she make it sound like a breakup when they had never been dating in the first place? She had had the audacity to crawl into his life and find herself her own little corner, and now he had no choice but to lock the door and leave her outside.
"You know we can't risk it until the project is over," she begged. "We have your reputation to uphold, my reputation to build. And it would not end well for either of us if anyone got wind of us being together." The way she said together gave him leave to hope that she did not, for once, mean it in the fake sense.
It was bittersweet. Here, she had given him confirmation that his wildest dream had been fulfilled, that she was also open to try and see where this inexplicable draw came from, and how far it would go. And yet, the acidic aftertaste, he still could not have her.
"I don't want to wait," he asserted. "I don't want to hide the fact that I enjoy being around you." He knew it was more than just that, but he also knew she wasn't ready to hear it yet.
"You know that I don't like that part either," she willed him to understand.
He looked at her with a raised eyebrow and paused, trying to feel for cracks in her rigid armour. He sighed.
"In any case, who knows how long you will be with us for?" His admiration was clear in his tone. He begged forgiveness with his expressive eyes. "I looked into the reports - if last time was anything to go by, you did such a good job you stayed far beyond the original project completion deadline."
"I can't deny it. But I can say no to an extension if one is offered."
"I don't want to obstruct your ability to say yes, when you are asked to stay. I don't want to take options from you."
"So why can't we just carry on as friends who occasionally moonlight as fake partners?" She asked, although he was certain she knew the answer. She was too intelligent to not understand his predicament. He braced himself against his own vulnerability.
"Lizzy, I don't want us to be friends."
"You don't-"
"No, I want-" the unfinished sentence hung heavy between them. He took a deep breath, deliberately took a large note from his wallet and placed it on the table between them. He had no doubt that his half-formed desire had been clear, but he was not willing to sit around and pretend that he was unbothered when she did not want him.
"You know where I am if you change your mind," he offered, sad smile all he could give.
~.~
She thought about texting him, she really did. But it was only a week before the wedding, she had so many bridesmaid duties to attend to, and it wasn't going to be an easy text to write.
Yeah, right. She knew she was being childish and procrastinating. She just didn't know what to say. How did one say I am pretty sure I'm in love with you in one succinct message without coming across as desperate? How was she meant to deal with the fallout even if she did build up the courage to send such a message? Especially when the rumour mill would immediately assume I'm only sleeping with you to get ahead. Why did it have to be so messy?
She vented such feelings to her sister when she managed to steal a moment of her time away from darling Charles. Jane had gracefully postponed a Tuesday evening Netflix date with her beau to give her sister some TLC. It was clear to the sister who had known her forever that she was out of sorts. Living together meant that she was privy to Lizzy's and eternally changing moods, and it had been a rough week where her sister was concerned. Jane had seen the bags growing slowly under her sister's eyes, and the slump in her usually squared shoulders. Fortunately for Lizzy, Jane was not the sort to leave any of her sisters floundering in their heavy emotions.
So, after a gruelling day in the busy middle of her Pemberley project, Lizzy managed to leave not too far past home time. The two ended up surrounded by a Chinese takeaway, basking in the comfort of their small flat and each other's company. They were most of the way done eating when Jane finally broached the subject she had correctly deduced to be the source of her sister's misery.
"So what's going on with you and Will?" She asked directly about an hour into their girl's night.
"Me and Will?" Lizzy feigned ignorance. "What? Other than our plans to attend Charlotte's wedding together, platonically?" She emphasised the last word entirely unconvincingly.
"Sure, other than those plans." Her scepticism was clear.
"Well, we're not going to stand you up next week," she said defensively.
"That's not what I am worried about, and you know it Lizzy," she replied confrontationally.
"I don't want to talk about it," Lizzy dismissed.
"I think it would help," Jane reasoned. "You obviously care about him more than just as a placeholder for Charlotte's wedding."
"It doesn't matter, it's not like that," Lizzy replied. The dejection in her tone told her sister all she needed to know.
"Oh honey," she sympathised.
"I know… it can't be. It's ok. I'm ok with it."
Her tone would convince no one.
"I know I tried to talk you out of it, Lizzy, but I don't think I knew how invested you were. Maybe I gave you bad advice" Jane offered.
Now you tell me, Lizzy thought.
"Yeah, well. 'Past me' agreed with the old advice. And I still do. No matter how sucky it feels," Lizzy admitted.
"Yes, but if you love him. That changes things," Jane tried. Lizzy rolled her eyes. Trust Jane to be a hopeless romantic.
She went to disagree with her sister's assessment of her feelings, but she struggled to argue. Instantly, he had entered her life and uprooted everything. And in the place of all of the ordered, uncomplicated way of doing things, had grown a tenderness for the crazy flip-flopping between feelings whenever he was near. She was pretty sure Jane's assessment covered it.
"How?" Lizzy despaired. "I still work for him. Both of our careers are at risk. I'm pretty sure that hasn't changed in the last two weeks."
"Yes, but now you're risking a lot more by not dating him than I thought you were before," Jane countered.
Lizzy pondered a moment, seeing the validity in her sister's argument, but not wanting to admit it out loud.
"It doesn't matter anyway, I think that ship has sailed," Lizzy bemoaned. Her heart protested loudly, the physical reaction taking her somewhat by surprise.
Her sister saw her chest catch and heard the slight waver in her voice. In response, she hauled Lizzy into a tight hug.
"Oh Lizzy," Jane spoke softly. "I can't promise to have the answers, but if I know anything about you, you'll make it work. You always do."
Lizzy eyed her suspiciously, but allowed herself to settle into the hug all the same.
~. ~
Thursday soon arrived, the day she had been dreading all week. Usually on those mornings, she woke full of nervous excitement, and took extra care with her wardrobe and make-up, but it was suddenly her least favourite day of all.
She looked at herself in the mirror, chuckling wryly and thinking that she would need to take extra care to put on a brave face of makeup today. The bags under her eyes told of her inability to sleep, plagued as she was of the image of Will finishing his pregnant "I want-" statement to her and telling her what specifically it was that he envisaged for them. She was pretty sure she knew what he had been about, and was torn over whether she felt glad he had not managed to spit it out. It had been hard enough to watch him walk away even without the vocalisation of his desires. She had been pinned to her chair with indecision, and eventually her sensible side had won out.
That was the happier of two memories that wrested her from sleep. In the other, she could not escape the sad rememberance of his slumped shoulders as he had dejectedly walked away. She had wanted to stop him, to tell him that she was well on her way to loving him. But rational thoughts had re-entered and reminded her how inappropriate even that lunch had been. And she had cursed that rational side every day since, even if she knew the 'fun police' had been right.
She stared at her reflection in her bathroom mirror, a challenging eyebrow questioning why she was still so strung up upon the gentleman in question. Was it just the promise of their wedding date that forbade a "case closed" mindset? No, she was sure there was more to it, to them, than that. She felt the sting of that truth.
She brushed her teeth meticulously. In the place of the pleasant tickle of the butterflies she had become accustomed to, her stomach felt a lead weight. She knew it was silly - they had only been on a handful of Thursday lunch dates, and today shouldn't be at all different to any other. It made her worry for the state of her heart if he had left such an imprint that she was moping over getting an hour and a half of her day back. It didn't really feel like she was winning, if she was being honest.
She splashed cold water on her face and muttered "snap out of it" under her breath. "It's just another normal day," she said to no one, willing herself to believe it.
When five o'clock rolled around, she was forced to admit that it had indeed been an exceedingly average day. There had been a frustratingly normal amount of project meetings, and a standard amount of report drafting to accompany her packed schedule. It left little time for thinking, which she was grateful for.
Fortunately, so far this week, she had managed to successfully avoid bumping into her Mr Darcy in his workplace. He seemed to be studiously avoiding both the tenth floor during the daytime, where he knew she would be, and the balcony where he knew she took her lunch by force of habit.
It was quite a sombre and solitary lunch break without her trip to the delicious bistro around the corner with the aforementioned gentleman. On any other non-Thursday, she usually enjoyed some time over lunch with her thoughts. But today, in the absence of William, she found her thoughts wandering again and again to him. What was he doing for lunch instead of their secret liaisons? She fixated upon the question, unable to think of anything else. Was he also eating alone and thinking of her? Or would he have booked back to back meetings all day? Was that what was keeping him in his office and away from the lobby?
Her thoughts were so occupied that she did not realise that her solitude had been interrupted when Pemberley Digital's head of MarComms joined her on the balcony and cleared his throat.
It took a couple of attempts before Lizzy's eyes registered the company.
"Hello Oliver," she said politely, snapping herself out of her melancholy. They had become somewhat good friends during the few weeks of project to date. He had been only too happy to help her with any request - specific of vague - and she had cheered him up with her easy smile and true competence at her job.
"Apologies for interrupting, Elizabeth," he said contritely. "I just hated the idea of you becoming lonely sitting out here all by yourself."
"Is that so?" She joked, in a voice that was more playful than she felt.
"No one as brilliant as you should be alone by choice," he remarked. She felt the flirtation like a knife edge. No matter that he was over ten years her senior, he was an attractive, well-meaning, newly single man. In any other circumstance, she would have been quite interested in exploring their connection. If only he knew. If only she had chosen differently when she had had the chance. She doubted Will wanted anything to do with her now, a week into their enforced separation.
"I quite like the solitude and the calm to think," she countered, ignoring his compliment.
"If that is how you like things, then don't let me interrupt your important reflections and ruminations" he said, making to leave. His tone was still friendly but she could hear the undertone of concern.
"Sorry, Oliver," she replied softly and put on her best client manager face before replying in a more cheerful manner than she felt. "I didn't mean to dismiss your kindness like that. You are welcome to join me for a bit if you would like?"
He smiled, and she was surprised to feel slightly buoyed by the friendliness she saw there.
"Thats ok, Elizabeth," he forgave her quickly and sat in the chair next to hers.
The two settled into a companionable chatter, talking about his recent foray into indoor skiing. She found herself lifted from her melancholy by his tales of rear-ending himself halfway down the slope in his first lesson, causing a traffic jam of teenagers at the top. She was disappointed that he had not managed to take any photos of the incident.
He continued to draw her out of her sadness, making her full-belly laugh on more than one occasion. Her head tilted back in mirth, enjoying the sunshine, and she was the picture of youthful happiness.
"Oliver," she said solemnly when she had recovered from her laughter. "Thank you for cheering me up today."
She placed her hand on his forearm and smiled disarmingly at him. Though she meant it in a friendly way, she could see the undisguised interest in his eyes, and cursed herself. She did not want to lead the poor man on.
Unphased, he smiled back, basking in her attention.
"Anytime, Elizabeth," he replied.
As much as she had been surprised to enjoy her lunch, she put on a brave face at the thought of the remainder of this brutal week where she would be caught between wanting him and wanting nothing to do with him. All she was certain of was that she could not ignore him, especially with his name plastered all over the place at Pemberley.
~.~
For Will, the fact that it was a Thursday had no bearing. Every day since their unpleasant and decisive lunch had been truly unpleasant.
And to make it even worse, the one day he had failed to book a lunchtime meeting, his feet compelled him to visit the lobby with the balcony where he knew she would be enjoying a quiet lunch. Just to check the project is on track, he lied to himself.
What he saw upon reaching the large glass doors out to the balcony only added to the sinking feeling in his stomach.
She was laughing, her head tipped back with obvious amusement. He could hear the musical sound through the glass and he caught himself smiling in spite of himself. It was the complete opposite of how he felt, but he couldn't help enjoying the sight of her happiness.
He strained to see who was sitting across from her, wondering who was responsible for drawing such emotion forth. Upon seeing a tuft of short blond hair on the top of a tall, well-dressed body an entirely different emotion took root.
"Oliver," he grumbled under his breath. He hated the jealous resignation in his own voice as he pondered his charming head of MarComms and the flirtatious reputation he had gotten himself. Trust the vultures to descend just as soon as he had taken his horse out of the race.
He had to tell his feet to remain planted in the ground against the tide of jealous wanting that threatened to push him towards the pair of them. He wanted to interrupt their conversation and make it clear that she was off limits, even though she was very much not his. He loved that she was her own person, and he didn't want to get in the way of her happiness. But that didn't change how much he wanted her.
Somehow, he managed to tear himself away from the duo, but not before Elizabeth had reached out to touch Oliver's forearm. He couldn't read her expression, but the small action rendered his tumultuous emotions clear. The ugly jealousy that reared its head made it clear to him. There was no way he was making it through the next two months of watching her and not having her without saying or doing something they might both regret.
Knowing the ball was in her court for his preferred option, he briefly considered the alternatives to him. He could relocate to one of their American offices, under the guise of visiting some important potential clients. Or he could try to deputise his way into a sabbatical.
For now, he would just have to make it through one more week until the wedding. Then he could make his mind up.
Resolution reached, he turned to leave and catch his PA before the afternoon onslaught. He stopped in his tracks when he heard the door open behind him. The scent of her perfume reached him just as he heard Oliver call his name in a friendly tone.
He let out a deep breath and schooled his features into an unaffected mask of indifference before turning to face the pair.
"Hello Oliver," he said brightly, feigning surprise. "And hello, Elizabeth. What a pleasure to see you both."
Her name burned on the way out, and he couldn't help but resent her for it. He hoped they would take his words at face value and ignore the poorly disguised longing in his voice.
Luckily for both Lizzy and William, Oliver was seemingly oblivious to their shared secret torment. He was happy to carry a lighthearted conversation about a recent Netflix miniseries that he thought his boss's boss would enjoy.
Lizzy was sure this was the tenth circle of hell. Oliver kept giving her what he thought were secret but that were in fact very overt glances, and she could see William's resigned indifference to the whole affair. She wasn't sure if it made it easier or worse.
Definitely worse, her heart cried. The rational part of her had her half-attending Oliver's description of the TV show and chipping in with her recent binge interest. Silently, the less rational side of her was occupied with longing to reassure him of her tenderness for him. She wanted to let Oliver know she wasn't interested, preferably by throwing caution to the wind and kissing Will soundly out in the open. But that was not how her fake boyfriend was going to find out that she wanted to try it out for real. And they couldn't. It wouldn't do.
So they both silently stewed, close but longing to be closer, the invisible barrier of professionalism feeling like a prison wall with how impenetrable it was. Both completely unable to regret having bumped into each other, but both completely conflicted about whether or not they should feel that way.
~.~
Seven days into their enforced separation, William's sister confronted him over dinner.
"Will," she began. "What on Earth has gotten into you?"
Her tone was accusatory, but there was an undercurrent of softness which belied how much she cared about her older brother. She had seen the bags appear under his eyes, and seen the evidence of his appetite reduction in the sizeable leftovers he finished every meal with. She was worried about her big brother, and correctly assumed the cause. She had questioned his behaviour with good intentions, sisterly concern the chief emotion in her voice.
"Hmmm?" He questioned, not having attended any of the preceeding conversation about upcoming concert dates.
"I said, what has you so glum?" She rephrased. "Or I guess… who has you so out of sorts?"
He blushed, knowing he had been caught out.
"Please, Georgie. I don't want to talk about it," he begged.
"Are you sure it wouldn't help?" She asked innocently.
"Honestly, I think the less you know about the whole Elizabeth Bennet affair, the better," he said wryly. "I know you set us up, but it's honestly gotten so complicated I wouldn't even know where to begin."
"I am here if you want to unburden yourself," his sister said kindly. He hugged her gently. "But I will remain silent if you truly do not want to do so."
She had given him an out, which he very nearly made the most of. Then he read the concern in her wide and innocent eyes, and he could not keep her out if he tried.
"I think I love her," he confessed. The words came easier than he expected, and it was upon so realising that he truly understood the depth to which he was screwed.
"Oh, shit," Georgie replied, swearing uncharacteristically.
"Yeah, exactly," he surrendered.
"No, I meant that in a good way," she reasoned. "I don't know why you think that's a bad thing, Will. I know it's been a while, but you're a real catch. It's about time someone went fishing."
He was buoyed by her hopeful tone for a small moment, until he brought himself into the present and remembered the tragic silence after his unvoiced confession. She had made it clear that she was not interested in exploring any kind of mutual interest. So it was useless, Elizabeth wasn't interested in anything other than filling a vacancy in the upcoming wedding party. At least that's what he told himself.
"She doesn't want me like that," he said simply, not wanting to delve into all of the gory details.
"Oh shit," she repeated, though this time, there was such an air of pity to her tone that he recoiled physically, separating from her touch. He immediately felt the loss.
"Yeah," he said wryly. "Pretty much - that sums it up."
"Are you sure she doens't fancy you?" Georgie asked. "You're literally everyone's type. I can't imagine a straight woman not being into you."
"She's bi," he corrected, unsure why he needed to let his sister know, but knowing in his gut it was important enough to Lizzy that he needed to make a point of it.
"The sentiment still stands," his sister championed again.
"Yeah, well I laid out what I wanted. She's not interested. She made that much clear."
He sounded so small and dejected. Georgie's heart broke to see her brother returned once more to the shell of himself.
"I hate seeing you like this, brother," she said. Her tone oozed understanding and pity, and he was in equal parts grateful and mortified in so hearing. Georgie continued unphased. "What can I do?"
The question was as sincere as it was disarming. He was again reminded how lucky he was to have his baby sister's support.
"I don't think this is your battle to fight," he said softly.
"I would like to support you if I can," she persisted.
"Let's just watch a movie and forget that this ever happened" he suggested.
Georgie eyed him with great scepticism, like she did not believe that he would forget. She was correct, of course. But she correctly read the situation and realised that Will needed distracting from his misery. She volunteered to source some sustenance and told him to choose his distraction of choice.
Some time later, they were snuggled into the large Darcy cinema room together and he felt calm, if not quite cheerful. He was reminded again of how lucky he was to have her.
It was a double edged sword, for as good as Georgiana was for him, he was reminded of what he could come to expect from a partner, if Lizzy would condescend to accept such a title.
He sighed. It was going to be a long week.