A/N: The last chapter was a bridge from the third arc to the fourth, although it counts technically as the first chapter of the fourth.
I've now titled the arcs — and gone back to insert the titles into the story.
Here are the titles of the arcs so far:
Arc 1: Rushed Decision?
Arc 2: Seduction, and the Mark
Arc 3: Fanny and Ned
I haven't tilted Arc 4 yet, still choosing among options. I will choose by the time I post Chapter 20.
Pride, Prejudice, and Pretense
Chapter 19: Departure
Chicago-O'Hare was the same vast concrete nightmare Lizzy remembered, sprawling leaden beneath a leaden Chicago sky.
Cold drizzle fell slowly but relentlessly.
Rook was driving the limo, wipers on slow, and Wickham was seated beside her, close, but his hands were on his legs and he was staring out the window, apparently deep in thought.
He had given her a hungry smile when he picked her up, running his eyes up and down her while Rook put her bag in the trunk. She had chosen snug jeans and a flowing, watery-blue silk blouse — and Wickham approved.
He had leaned in for a kiss but Fanny turned her face at the last minute and the kiss landed on her cheek, not her lips. But she smiled at him, a small roguish smile, and tried to backlight her eyes with promises, even if her head-turn suggested reservations. She needed to keep him off-balance, unsure. If he was off-balance, she had a chance, the mission had a chance.
Being off-balance increased the chances he would make a mistake, slip. He needed to slip. She needed him to slip.
Fanny had almost played out all her options and had almost no way forward but one that she refused even to contemplate. She needed all her spy virtues now, the one Kellynch prized and that Lizzy prized in herself — she needed her reactions to be alert, quick, and elastic.
Lizzy was careful to do nothing to break Wickham's brooding silence.
She had enough to think about herself.
Was it possible to complete this mission and remain true to the whole of herself?
Lizzy stared at the phone for a moment after shutting the computer.
Wickham.
She picked it up and answered, trying to steel herself, her voice. Ned will text you that he loves you, those words of Darcy rang in her ears still.
"Hello, Fanny Prince speaking." She was supposed to be at work. She tried to sound businesslike, slightly harried, but still pleasant — the way her Aunt Gardiner sounded on the phone.
"Hello, Fanny. How's work?"
"Demanding today. Lots has accumulated on my desk. Busywork."
"But you can still travel with me tomorrow, let me…transport you?"
Fanny giggled softly at the unexpected phrasing. "Yes, I told you I would. Vegas or bust."
"Well, as I said, it won't be Vegas."
"Where are we going?" She tried to sound innocent and experienced all at once, guardedly eager.
Wickham chuckled and the sound chilled her. "Let me surprise you. Rook and I will be there tomorrow at 1 pm to pick you up."
"Okay, but tell me, I need to know what to pack."
"I'd say nothing — because that's what I most want to see you in. But pack for a hike, hiking boots, if you have them, sweatshirts or sweaters, a warm jacket, maybe a hat."
"We're going camping?"
"No, not quite but we will be…roughing it. A little. Not off the grid but on its edge."
Lizzy swallowed soundlessly. "Please tell me?" she tried for a subtly coquettish tone.
Wickham only chuckled again. "What have you told Ned about your trip?"
Lizzy hesitated. "Um…nothing. He's tied up in New York, an unexpectedly heavy workload. He can't be in Chicago again until next week at the earliest."
"So, lie by omission? What he doesn't know won't hurt him?" Wickham asked. He seemed to want her to confess it, acknowledge it, what she, Fanny, had done.
Another hesitation. "Yes, like you said, this isn't anything…permanent."
"No, just a chance for you to satisfy your desires. Scratch some itches before you have them. And I promise you will. Scratch them, I mean, seriously scratch them." More chuckles.
He was eager but still sure of her, not in too much of a hurry for the event, not when it was inevitable. And not when what he wanted most, the corruption of the previously innocent Fanny, had already begun.
Lizzy realized with a sinking feeling that this phone call, the other night in her apartment, had all been foreplay for him, in more than a physical sense. Getting her to agree to the trip, the coming affair, titillated Wickham. He wanted to bed her, yes, but he had already (as he saw it) gotten her to want it and to agree to it. What aroused him was already happening.
Lizzy decided to let Fanny openly flirt back. "So you say."
His chuckle deepened, pleased. "I do. And you will. And on those too long, and too short, those slow, dry nights with Ned, you'll have something to think of, something to moisten and quicken the proceedings."
"Tell me where we're going," she pleaded, keeping the outright flirting tone, hoping it would keep him from noticing her insistence, the number of times she had asked.
"No, I want you to be curious. See you at 1 pm."
"Okay, bye."
Wickham took his phone out of his coat pocket and glanced at it as Rook stopped the car. Lizzy could not see the message but she saw the instant frown of displeasure on Wickham's face.
He got out and turned away from her so that he was between her and his phone. After a moment, he put the phone back in his coat pocket. Lizzy walked to the rear of the car and waited for Rook to get the luggage. She had packed only one small suitcase; Wickham, it turned out, one small duffle bag. Rook gave Lizzy a look as he handed her the suitcase — a look of amusement and fate as if he knew she would eventually be here, traveling with Wickham, his toy.
Lizzy dropped her eyes as she took the suitcase from him. It felt too much like he was right, even if he was wrong. Wickham took his bag and the two of them walked into the airport. Lizzy looked over her shoulder to see Rook pulling away, shaking his head.
Wickham reached for Fanny's hand and Lizzy took his, walking with him beneath a security camera above the door. Wickham seemed unconcerned by the camera, but his face had not relaxed since the text.
Lizzy gave him a minute. They were walking toward the security gate. Wickham took his phone out again — no call this time — and Lizzy saw the tickets appear on his phone. But she could not read the details.
"Where are we going, George?" Fanny asked, Lizzy deliberately dropping her chin and using her eyelashes as a veil, trying to be as demurely fetching as she knew how.
Wickham's scowl relaxed finally. He took a breath and dropped her hand, accelerating. "Casper, Wyoming."
Lizzy stopped and stared at him. "Wow, when you said we weren't going to Vegas, you meant it. Casper is the anti-Vegas."
Wickham had stopped too and turned around. He had been a step ahead of her. His scowl was now a smirk. "Believe me, given the weekend I have planned for you, you aren't going to care where we are, as long as the bed and the shower are large enough. And they will be. Everything will be. What happens in Casper stays in Casper. We can't have Ned finding out, can we?"
He started to walk again and she hurried to catch up, blushing at his remarks despite not being Fanny, despite their being no Ned. Darcy. "So, are we going to be in Casper itself?"
"No, we'll be outside the city. On Casper Mountain. We'll be there later this afternoon or evening. The spot's primitive. You'll have to give up on your phone for a while, so you might want to come up with an excuse for Ned."
Fanny frowned. "Okay, I'll send him a text and tell him…my phone's been on the fritz and that I'll be getting a new one in the next couple of days."
Wickham shrugged, smiling quickly, more interested in the fact of the lie than its actual content. "Whatever."
They made their way through security with no trouble beyond the usual — presenting tickets and ID, and undressing for the scans. Lizzy only had Fanny's phone with her.
She wanted to let Ned know what she had found out about their destination, but she didn't want a text to Ned on her phone revealing the very thing she was supposed to be keeping secret from him, lying to him about. There was no reason to think Wickham could access her texts, but previous missions had taught her to be especially guarded when as vulnerable as she now was.
Once Wickham had put his belt back on, and Fanny had put on her shoes, they headed to their gate. At the first restroom, Fanny slowed: "The wise woman goes when she may, not when she must," she intoned with mock solemnity. Wickham, taking her to be showing a more playful side, grinned. "The wise man too."
They parted company, Fanny to the Women's, Wickham to Men's. When Lizzy got into a stall, she immediately took her phone from her bag and called Darcy.
"Yes, Lizzy?" His voice was quiet, intense. He had picked up before the second ring.
Lizzy kept her voice quiet, so as not to be heard by others in the bathroom. "Fitzwilliam, our destination is Casper, Wyoming."
Darcy was silent for a moment, thinking. "Okay, I'll scramble a team and make sure they are careful. The last team obviously made a mistake. But we still don't know what it was. I'm wondering if there was someone there following Wickham, and the Rapid City team never considered that possibility. This team will consider it."
"Okay. Likely, we're not staying in Casper, given what Wickham said about clothes and shoes I should bring. I'm trying to think….Casper Mountain is near the city, right?"
Darcy laughed. "It's your country — since the end of the so-called 'Revolutionary War', Lizzy."
She laughed too, his unexpected comment helping ease her mounting, tightly screwed tension. "Right, well, it is, I'm almost sure. I bet that our destination is the mountain, somewhere up there, maybe a cabin."
"Okay. Bingley and I will be in Casper as soon as we can get there. He's already talking to Langley, and I arranged for a company jet to be on standby. It won't take us long. We'll be a couple of hours or so behind you. Oh, and Bingley says to tell you that your tracker is working, the signal's strong. I'll arrange with the team for one of them to be waiting for you in the Women's room closest to your gate, to supply you with a weapon. If I can't arrange that, Ned will send a text complaining about work."
"Okay, Fitzwilliam. Thanks. I have to go."
They both paused; both knew there was more dialogue between them that belonged at this point, but it had to remain unspoken, whatever exactly it was.
"Be careful; he has some plan and we don't know the full extent of it…even if we do know some of it, the part connected to Fanny," Darcy said, his voice quieting as he spoke, the last words delivered quietly and slowly.
"I will."
Bingley had returned from the UIC campus. He was debriefing on the computer, Darcy off-screen but beside Bingley, Lizzy was seated at the counter in her apartment.
She had received the call from Wickham about an hour before.
"I found Ms. Sanz, Teresa," Bingley said. "She was at a Starbucks on campus between classes. Langley had given me her schedule, so I guessed that she might be at Starbucks. It's in the basement of the building her classes are both in. I was lucky, not only was she there, it was crowded and the two-top she was seated at had one of the only empty chairs. I asked to sit down and she agreed. As attractive as the Polaroid showed. She was studying — psychology, I think — and I sat for a moment in silence. But then I looked at her and played a hunch.
"'Excuse me, this isn't a line, but I think I know you — I mean, I've seen you, before. But I'm not normally on campus; I'm just here on a sales call. It was somewhere else…'
"She looked at me, a bit wary at first, and then she studied my face. 'I don't think I have seen you,' she said, 'and I spend almost all of my time on campus. I don't spend much time off-campus. Except for…' She blushed a little, and then she said, surprising me, 'Maybe it was at church?'
"I managed not to blurt out, 'Church?", and instead I nodded, 'Maybe…' She volunteered what I wanted to know.
"'St. James Episcopal. I go…used to go…got there. Have you ever been there?"
"'St. James? Father…Robyn?" She nodded. 'I have visited there once, not too long ago. Yes, that must have been where it was. Were you sitting beside a woman, older, blonde, striking?'
"She blushed full red but shook her head. 'No, but I know the woman you mean. Catherine de Bourgh.'
"I shook my head. 'I didn't know her name. But I saw her. I saw you too but, I guess, not with her.'
"She looked upset. 'No, not with her. Do you often visit churches?'
"'I've been trying to decide on one,' I told her, 'and I did like St. James. Father Robyn's homily was good, as I remember, although I can't recall the details.'
"'Yes, I liked…like… Father Robyn. He's…um…awkward personally, but he knows his stuff. He introduced me to Lady de Bourgh — she has a title — after a service.'
"'I didn't get to stay after service, so I did not meet anyone. But it's nice to meet you…?'
"'Teresa,' she said. I told her my name was John, and I left the table. It seemed clear to me that she had gotten pulled into…whatever…with Wickham and Lady Catherine. Father Robyn didn't know what he was doing when he introduced that girl to that woman. Teresa didn't mention Wickham and, so far as we know, he's never been to St. James, so I'm assuming Lady Catherine introduced Teresa to him. I'd be shocked if she's involved with the Wicker Man. Her body language was all suppressed shame and regret." He paused, shaking his head in pity.
"Another victim: that's my strong intuition. Inexperienced and seduced and now ashamed. I bet she regrets that Polaroid, and lives in fear of it."
They were all silent for a long while, then Bingley spoke again. "Lizzy, I will be bringing you a small black Patagonia bag to carry, one you could also carry on a hike. There's a tracker sewn into the lining, Langley's latest and best. As long as you have the bag with you, we should be able to find you."
Darcy stepped onto the screen. "There will also be pills, tranquilizers, in the bag, in a birth control package. Quick dissolving and fast acting. Just put one in liquid and, if Wickham drinks it, he'll be out for a couple of hours. But given airport security and the whole situation, there's no way for you to carry a weapon with you. But once we know where you're going, we'll try to arrange for you to get one."
Lizzy met Wickham outside the Men's room.
He was looking at his phone again but without any particular expression, no frown.
He put it in his pocket as soon as she approached.
"Our flight begins to board in about 15 minutes. The gate's just down the hallway."
Lizzy closed the computer when Darcy finished and she walked into her bedroom, stretched out on the bed. She was as anxious as she could remember on a mission, and she dreaded the trip with Wickham.
She tried to calm herself, control her breathing. She wouldn't be alone for long, and only in public, the airport, on the plane. The destination team would trail them from the airport. Darcy and Bingley would follow not long after. But she could not manage calm.
She could feel her pulse all over her body, her heart thumping.
The problem was not just the mission, Wickham. It was Darcy, all that was as yet unspoken and unacted upon between them. And the fact that her desire for Darcy, her feelings for him, made the mission so much more repugnant than it would have been otherwise, and it would have been deeply repugnant otherwise, more than any of her previous seduction missions.
But now the thought of Wickham's hands on her, his body pressed against her, made her feel nauseated, seasick. It was not just her mind that protested against the thought; her body rebelled against it too. Her surroundings started to spin again. And yet she was going to have to hide that, and pretend the opposite, pretend to be aroused, awaiting Wickham's sexual advances, eager, in Fanny's conflicted way.
Lizzy put her hand over her eyes and sighed aloud.
She wanted Darcy there, in her bed, in her — but she sat up, trying to keep her mind from creating moving pictures of that desire. Allowing herself to imagine that, fantasize about it, would only make the mission harder, worse.
Still anxious, and now frustrated, she rolled over to the nightstand, opened the drawer, and took out her personal phone. She did what she had promised more than once but never fully intended to do. She called her mother. Desperate times.
"Lizzy?" Her mother answered the phone, the background noise suggesting that she was at the bridal shop.
"Yes, it's me. How are you, Mom?"
Mrs. Bennett huffed. "Annoyed. Your uncle Gardiner's had a setback, some complication with his heart, and your aunt's not been in the shop the last two days. I've had to run it by myself."
Her mother had forgotten her constant complaining about Aunt Gardiner now that the work of the shop had fallen on her. And of course, she was unconcerned about Lizzy's uncle.
"How is he, Mom?"
"Oh, he'll live. But your aunt's worried and she wants to be with him in the hospital. The procedure is done, whatever it was, another stent or some kind of adjustment of a previous one, and he's recovering. It looks like he won't be back at work, even part-time, soon, if ever."
Lizzy realized she'd have to call her aunt if she was going to know what was happening. She overheard her mother speak to a customer in a loud voice. "No, no, you're too fat for that. There's no use dragging it to the fitting room. Our plus sizes are against the wall."
Lizzy thought she heard a sudden sob in the background.
"Mom," Lizzy said, wanting more information and hoping to distract her mother from the customer, "what hospital is he at?"
"The University one…"
"Strong Memorial?"
"Yes, in the cardiac care unit."
"Okay, Mom. Look, I'm going to let you go and call Aunt Gardiner, okay? I want to hear about him from her."
"Okay, but there's not much more to know. How's work?"
Lousy. "Fine, Mom. Busy. Stressful."
"Well, it can't compare to the stress I'm under. All this to do, nothing but fat girls in the shop…"
"Mom, I've got to go. Be nice to your customers. A sale is a sale, and this is supposed to be a happy time for the customer."
"I'm supposed to be happy too. Why should their happiness matter more than mine? They stomp on my poor nerves."
"Got to go, Mom," Lizzy said, and ended the call.
She was more anxious and frustrated than ever. She called her aunt,
They boarded the plane and found their seats.
Wickham smiled at her as she sat down next to the window and he took the aisle seat.
He seemed now wholly focused on her. He leaned toward her and put his mouth close to her ear. "Soon, Fanny. And everything you've been fantasizing about, and more, will happen."
She wanted to push him away, claw at his face; her stomach roiled. But Fanny turned her head and gave him another coy look, eyelash veiled, then she put her mouth to his ear. "It's all I've been thinking about, imagining."
The words tasted foul, tainted, as she spoke them, but she made herself smile as he pulled back. His smile became a frank leer and he slid his hand from her knee up, up, to a spot high on her thigh. He stopped very close to her crotch, and he put his mouth again to her ear, but this time, his tongue snaked out and he licked her lobe.
She shivered in revulsion but he took it to be arousal.
Satisfied, he removed his hand and sat back in the seat.
Lizzy turned her head and stared at the wet, dark gray tarmac beneath the wet, light gray sky.
The drizzle continued.
"He's okay, Lizzy," Aunt Gardiner said softly, thankfully.
"There was more blockage, one of his stents closed, or something, restenosis, the doctor calls it. His artery grew over the stent, like a scab on a wound. Drugs were supposed to keep it from happening, but they failed. Anyway, they were able to open it up again, using a tiny drill. Can you imagine that? It's crazy. But he's okay. Awake and alert. He should go home soon. Your mom's running the shop, Lord help us."
"I know, I talked to her there."
"Just two days and our Yelp rating has sunk like a stone."
"I'm sorry. She can't help herself — or anyone else. Is there anything I can do for you or uncle?"
"No, nothing. Thanks so much for calling. I know you're traveling for work, so I appreciate it. I didn't want to worry you, especially since the angina attack and the surgery happened so close together and since I knew he would be okay so soon…"
"Call me anytime, even if it's just to talk. I'll call and talk to Uncle as soon as I can after he's home."
"He'll be at home for a while. The doctor wants him to stay away from work while they adjust his medication to keep this from recurring."
"Alright. My love to you and him."
"We love you too, Lizzy. Best of luck with work."
Lizzy put her phone down. She was worried about her uncle but she couldn't let that steal her focus. At least everything seemed like it would be okay.
At least in Rochester.
Lizzy had never been to Casper, Wyoming, although she had been in Cheyenne, coincidentally on a trip west that she had taken with her Uncle and Aunt.
She had just turned fifteen, and the trip was a birthday present. She hadn't traveled much. Her mother's nerves and her father's reclusion had kept Lizzy homebound.
With the Gardiners, she had traveled north by northwest from an overnight stay in Cheyenne to a longer stay in Yellowstone National Park. It had been a wonderful trip. She had loved the West, and loved the chance for long talks with the Gardiners, particularly her aunt, as they traveled. She vaguely recalled passing a sign for Casper as they drove from Cheyenne to Yellowstone, and it had stayed with her because of her then-amused thought of Casper the Friendly Ghost.
As the plane taxied to the runway, she could not manage to find anything about Casper friendly. Nothing amusing.
Wickham put his hand on her knee and the plane accelerated, and left the ground, departing Chicago.
A/N: Sorry to be late with this. My friend's death left me demoralized, with no energy for writing. I tried to summon some up and this is the result. More soon, I hope. Love to hear your thoughts.