His shoulders slump as he flicks the lights off. It's been three days since Everett's unwelcome revelation about his grandfather's will, and Darcy is no where closer to a resolution than he was that horrifying morning. He used to get his fair share of female attention. There was nothing more interesting to over-achieving college young women than rich, good-looking, straight-A male students who remained wholly uninterested in them. He did date a woman here and there, but never anyone seriously. And ever since Pemberley started taking up the vast majority of his time, anyone who's actually marriage material stopped showing up. Now, only gold diggers linger, at tech conventions or fundraising events. And the women who would actual make good life partners have either moved on to careers of their own or found their true loves in men who actually cared to settle down early.
"Darcy?" A familiar voice cuts through the still hallway air.
"Lizzy." He looks up, looks down to check his smartwatch, and looks up at her again. "You're staying late."
"Finishing up some touches on tomorrow's ad campaign." She smiles. He likes her like this - still in her professional clothes, but softened by the end of a long and productive day. "I thought I would come up and see if you were still here."
He shrugs. "In the flesh."
"Not like that." She laughs very briefly. Then she sighs. "I've tried my best to draft potential announcements for either scenario. It's - not great."
"That bad? You're the best at this, you know."
"Thank you. But your confidence might be a bit misplaced this time around."
Darcy sighs, long and deep. He stretches his neck both ways, working out the knots. "It's not your fault. My grandfather - "
"He probably meant well, didn't he?"
"Maybe? What do I know?" Darcy's laugh sounds hollow to his own ears. "The will was made years ago, and I guess he never got around to updating it."
"And no chance of a deus ex machina somewhere? Maybe your lawyer finds a signed and witnessed copy of a new will made the day before he died, hidden in his bedside drawer?"
"Life doesn't work like that, I'm afraid."
"Given that your grandfather has put your inheritance hostage under a marriage clause in the 21st century, I figured that maybe life can work like fairy tales."
Darcy winces. "Hardly a fairy tale."
"Fine, a movie then - maybe of the Hallmark variety."
Darcy finds himself smiling despite himself. He's about to ask about whether or not Pemberley is overworking her when her stomach growls, emphatically, the noise reverberating down the entire hallway down to the elevator lobby.
It's such a well-timed moment of comic relief that he almost doubles over in genuine laughter.
"Given that I probably have yet another sleepless night ahead of me fretting about Pemberley's future, would you do me the honor of letting me feed you before I do that?"
Lizzy smiles. Her eyes sparkle when they smile. It's a ridiculous thought, because sparkles is too juvenile a word to think for a successful 30-year-old entrepreneur. But her eyes do sparkle, so there's really no way around that thought.
"I don't think a lot of places are still open, but we can always grab a shawarma."
"Let me feed you something fancier. Freddie's place is just two streets over."
"Are they open this late?"
"For me, they are."
Lizzy shakes her head and clucks her tongue. "Overprivileged white men."
"I'll have you know that I am overprivileged not because I am a white man, but because I happen to be his favorite cousin."
"Giana is away in college and can't refute you. That's hardly fair."
"Hey, if you're related to a celebrity chef - might as well make the most of it."
Lizzy's stomach grumbles again, and she blushes a little. "Fine. Get Freddie Fitzwilliam's overpriced food in me if you want. I need an extra brain to brainstorm with. It's really, really hard not to make a shotgun wedding sound scandalous and I am fresh out of ideas."
"After you."
"Why, thank you."
They walk the familiar two blocks over. The bustling, emerging business district of New Lancashire is something of a ghost town at night, despite its glittering success during the day, and Darcy hovers close in case the stray drunkard decides to barge into them. They arrive at Freddie's club within ten minutes, and Freddie sends Darcy to his favorite table - the quiet one behind the louvers with the pretty city view.
"First round on the house," Freddie announces. "The rest is on you."
"Put it all on my tab." Darcy sighs. "Let me abuse my inheritance while I still have it."
Freddie's playful look softens a little. "So I heard from Richard. Tough luck. You'd think old Mr. Darcy would have had more sense."
"He used to," Darcy admits. Lizzy listens across the table, looking distractingly pretty in the soft warm light. At least she knows enough of his family to not be shocked by any of this. "But it seems like he just never thought much of his will."
"Isn't that what rich folks are supposed to do? Think thoroughly about their legacy and money and stuff?"
"You tell me, Mister-related-to-British-royalty."
Freddie waves the comment away. "It's just for branding. Who knows if we have any actual blue blood."
"Your father would be appalled at your denial."
"But at least he won't have to force me to get married."
Darcy groans. "Don't remind me."
"I thought that's exactly what we're supposed to be doing here," Lizzy chimes in, her voice direct and firm without being bossy. "We are reminding you of your dilemma and solving it."
Freddie grins at them as Darcy groans again.
"We're here because you are nice enough to distract your boss by letting him stuff you with food," says Darcy. "You have your signature burger today, Fred?"
"Any day." The celebrity chef who may or may not be related to British royalty grins. "I'll expedite a couple for you, and maybe some sides."
"Thanks," Darcy and Lizzy say at the same time. Freddie nods and walks away, leaving Darcy alone with his best executive and the elephant in the room.
Lizzy doesn't waste time, even when her stomach growls again. "Is there literally no one you can marry? No ex-girlfriend? Maybe the one who got away or the girl next door growing up? It'll be so much more credible if it's someone you already know."
Darcy laughs bitterly. "This is marriage, Lizzy. I don't think being credible is the primary consideration."
"Well, it'll help from a PR standpoint."
"I know." He frowns into his glass. How is Freddie's welcome drink already half gone? "But it's not something I can just haphazardly do."
"Because the will requires five years."
"Yes."
"Can't you just find someone you can maybe just tolerate then? Draw up a pre-nup and say you'll divorce in five or six years?"
"A sham marriage?"
"It can be as real as you want it - but at least it won't be a lifetime commitment."
Darcy takes a sip, swallows, and shrugs. "It just feels really disingenuous like that."
"Right. I mean, even I acknowledge the sanctity of marriage."
He cocks his head to the side by way of acknowledgment just as the waiter walks over to adorn their table with an assortment of complicated-looking dishes. Lizzy busies herself with calming her complaining stomach for the next few minutes, and the burger smells so good that even Darcy eats half of his before realizing it.
"I can't just marry anyone, you know," he says after he's cleansed his palate with the rest of his drink. Lizzy looks up at him, her mouth still full of Freddie's latest version of truffle fries. But she's listening. "Even if I do what you suggest, and I find someone willing to just be temporarily married to me for five long years, there will still be scandal after the divorce."
Lizzy swallows and sits back. "True. But there won't be a majority shareholder called George Wickham."
"Valid point."
"Thank you."
They sit in silence for a good two minutes.
"I need someone I can trust," Darcy mumbles. It's probably not very wise to confide to the one girl in the world who is, in her words, both 'the one who got away' and 'the girl next door,' but he's not exactly surrounded by confidantes right now. "Someone who won't betray Pemberley or my family. Given the nature of such a potential agreement, the girl would have to know the terms of the inheritance - and it's an extremely risky bit of information to put in someone's hands."
"Practically the entire good name of the company you've built."
"Exactly."
"I get it."
"I know you do. You're the only one that does."
She nods, as if slowly acknowledging the statement for the compliment it is.
Then she asks, "So what if I do it?"
Darcy almost drops his glass on the shiny wooden floor.
Lizzy watches carefully as Darcy's hand shakes at her suggestion. He sends an uncertain glance her way before sliding his glass on the table. The club is nice, the view of New Lancaster unparalleled. Yet all she can do is focus on the man in charge of Pemberley - and on whose shoulders the future of the entire company lies.
"I'm not sure I understand you," he says a beat later.
Lizzy breathes in deeply before exhaling just as slowly. It's not the first time the thought has occurred to her. She'd brushed it off the first two times, thinking of it as too far-fetched. Darcy may have been the one who threw the world's worst proposal at her more than a decade ago, but she's sort of giving him tit for tat right now by basically suggesting that she pretend to be his wife just because she believes too much in the company to let it fall in the hands of one George Wickham.
"We need to keep Wickham from inheriting your grandfather's shares," she says, trying to sound as professional as she can.
"Yes," he agrees tentatively. "We have established that."
"And the only way to do that is to see you married in the next two months, and remain married for the next five years - did I get it right?"
"And to live together," Darcy adds, frowning, "with not so much as a whiff of adultery on either side."
Lizzy nods. It's getting harder and harder to be objective about this entirely ridiculous situation. "Your grandfather was thorough."
"He didn't want me marrying the wrong person."
This time, Lizzy can't help smirking. "So here we are plotting to make sure that you do."
"What do you mean?"
"You said yourself that you can't find a wife, a real wife, in the next two months."
"Not in so much words - but, yes."
"So we need to find you a fake wife - one who will be discreet about the arrangement and will put the welfare of Pemberley Inc. above all else."
"And who will not stray."
She rolls her eyes. "And neither should you, according to your grandfather's terms."
"I've lived the entirety of my adult life as celibate as a monk. I don't think that's a problem."
Lizzy's smile softens. "Well, then. That's one thing solved."
"What do you mean?"
"If I volunteer to do this - to save the company with you - at least you won't have to worry about my trying to seduce you."
Darcy, the dear old prude that he is, looks almost uncomfortably at her. Lizzy grins.
"For the record, I'm not trying to trap you," she adds. "I know there are probably dozens of women out there who would be perfectly happy to take advantage of your wealth and your status for five years and to demand alimony for the rest of their lives. I'll sign a prenup, talk to your lawyer - do whatever it is you need to make sure Pemberley doesn't land in Wickham's hands."
To his credit, Darcy seems to consider. He toys with his nearly empty glass, the last few drops contorting the view of his loosened tie. "You used to think differently about Wickham."
Lizzy swallows. It's all ancient history, but it's not pleasant ancient history. "I'm sorry about anything I've believed about him before. You didn't deserve the accusations I threw at you."
"He was a charmer. I'm sure it was easier to believe him than me."
"Darcy." She slides her hand over his sleeve. He stills without stiffening. "It's not your fault. He hurt your sister - and then tried to hurt mine. And to top it all, he still had the audacity to blackmail your family." She swallows, her throat tight. "I should be the one apologizing for not believing you."
"You did eventually."
"That doesn't make it right."
His eyes carry a vulnerable, grateful shimmer when he meets her gaze. "Thank you."
"Not a problem. I would never have been happy to work for a lesser man."
The distinctly professional compliment felt more personal than it should be, and Lizzy doubts again if she's been incredibly stupid to suggest that he consider marrying her, even if just on paper. After the way she'd trashed him to his face back then, she's lucky he's even letting her work for him.
Darcy surprises her by smiling, although a bit sadly. "And let's say that I cannot find another women willing to marry my sorry self except my top communications executive, what happens then? You move in, and we continue working together - and we basically expect you to give up five years of your life just to save my company? I appreciate the sacrifice, but that's too much to ask."
"I'm not sacrificing myself to save your company, you know. I'm your ally, determined to save the company we both believe in from the clutches of a man we both hate."
Darcy shrugs. "If you put it that way - "
"Besides, living at Darcy Mansion is hardly a chore."
This time, he laughs. "Never took you for that kind of woman."
"The kind that salivates over your house's old world charm? The kind that wants to explore every nook and cranny until I've uncovered all your ancestors' secrets? Or the type that would love to afford a housekeeper? Everyone wants to afford a housekeeper, Darcy."
William chuckles. He seems to think of something that makes him happy - before his face falls into a frown right after. "And what if you meet someone?"
"Do I look like I'm meeting people?"
"You might." His voice sounds strained under the club's ambient music. "Five years is a long time."
Lizzy sighs. She hasn't exactly thought this part through, but it's also a fair point. "What if you meet someone?"
He shakes his head. "I won't."
"Five years is a long time."
They stare at each other, the expectation of a five-year commitment dangling between them.
She breaks the tension first. "Even if I do happen to meet someone else - any man not willing to wait four or five years for me isn't worth having."
He seems to be thinking through her every word before he makes a single nod. "I suppose that makes sense."
Lizzy nods, even if just to have something to do.
"So we'll inform Everett?" he asks.
"Make him draft a pre-nup. I'll sign it tomorrow if I can. I'll also start drafting a media statement about us presumably having dated for a year already and only wanting to make the announcement now."
He nods. "I suppose that is wise."
"Hey, you're not paying my bonus for nothing."
This time, his smile looks more relaxed. "And the wedding?"
"As soon as you need it to be."
"Three weeks, maybe? That gives us time to put everything in order."
Lizzy nods, a little tightly. "Sounds good."
"Alright."
"Alright."
They stare at each other awkwardly again before she extends her hand first.
"We're in this together?"
His touch is warm, firm, and a little too thrilling for her sanity when he grasps her hand and shakes it. "Together."
They walk back to Pemberley together, both a little quiet, before parting ways in the parking lot. Lizzy can't help the tug in her heart that whispers that she shouldn't be walking away from someone who, for all intents and purposes, is her new fiancé without at least a parting hug.
But it's not about her, and it's not about him. It's about saving Pemberley. And she'll play whatever part she has to play for the sake of the bigger picture.
She'll just have to guard her heart in the process.
A/N: More unrealistic nonsense that is also fluffy fluff. Thank you for indulging me!
