Thank you everyone for reading and your kind reviews. A desired meeting takes place in this chapter, but unfortunately it doesn't go so well for Darcy. I'd love to hear what you think about this chapter and your ideas of what should happen next.

11.

Once the door to the police station was closed, I walked hurriedly away, taking advantage of my long stride. I wasn't quite running, but it was not far from that. When I saw Charlotte, I gave a little half-wave but did not slow down in the least. As I exited the building, I wondered Could she have heard any of that? I felt my face grow hot. Logically, I doubted it, but illogically, I was certain of it.

When I reached my car, my instinct said to hightail it back to my home but I resisted that. Once I had reached the safety of my car, with it's plush, supportive leather seats, I began trembling, shaking. I didn't really understand what was going on, except that it was some kind of emotional reaction, my body betraying me.

I knew, objectively, that I shouldn't drive just then. I would be liable to make some dumb mistake, or to speed away and get pulled over by the police. I remained parked; I was determined not to go anywhere until I had better control over myself.

I forced myself to consider why my body was shaking, to try to connect it to an emotion. I should have been enraged over being cuffed and dismissed, but instead I felt . . . mortified and scared about what could have happened. The portion that was mortification reminded me of how I had felt when I told Rick about having an unwitting one night stand with Caroline and he told me what he thought had really happened. But this was much worse in a way. I had been shocked, rocked, by Rick telling me I had been raped, but now I was shocked, rocked, by hearing that "We should all be so lucky."

Rick had cared, but to the Chief . . . to him some of the worst moments of my life were a joke. I had wanted to perhaps help someone else, but I had bared my pain for nothing, nothing. I imagined the next poor sap coming in to say what had happened and how they would have made fun of him, too.

The scared part was about what could have happened if the Chief had believed I tried to assault an officer. People had been charged for less. Who I was and my position in life protected me, but what would have happened if I had been someone else? The ugly underbelly of how things could work had revealed itself.

If I'd had Ms. Berry's cell or home phone numbers, I would have called them. I considered calling Rick, but I knew he was probably handling a hundred last minute details before his trip later in the day. I thought through my work colleagues and friends, but there was no one else I had confided in, no one who knew anything about what had happened at all, but for Chuck and he certainly would not have any sympathy for me.

I had a momentary wish to talk to Ava, we were now members in a club that no one would wish to join, but when I thought through all of what I would have to tell her, I saw that it was impossible, had I even had her number. How could I go whining to her about what had happened to me, knowing what she had been through? It wouldn't have been right. And what if she had been as dismissive of me as Chief Forster had been? I couldn't bear it, if she reacted that way. I was on my own.

I took some sips of water from my container, put in a random CD (yes, I was old-school that way), and tried to let the music relax me. I didn't think it was working at first, but gradually I felt a little better. The trembling stopped.

I was able to take some deep breaths, to feel my muscles relax a bit. I took off my suit coat (it was awkward doing that in my car, but I felt safer in there than I would have felt outside of it) and hung it on a suit hanger that I had brought for just that purpose. Then I took off my tie and hung it around the hanger. I unbuttoned the top two buttons of my blue dress shirt next and considered whether I should role up my sleeves.

I wanted to change into comfortable clothes and I had such clothes as I had planned to take a short hike after. While the idea of the hike still had some appeal, I wasn't sure if I wanted to take it anywhere near here.

Still, changing would feel good. I felt a little sticky with sweat, had the fragrance of fear about me. I was pretty sure my shirt and undershirt had pit stains. Also, now that I was feeling a bit better, my stomach said it would like something.

From my location in the car, I glanced around the downtown area. I spotted a sub shop, but immediately rejected that idea. Chewing through a sandwich and crunchy chips would be a bad idea for sure. Then I spotted a ways down the road in the distance, the double arches of a McDonald's on a high pole.

While my mind longed for a Big Mac, my jaw reminded me I couldn't handle that much better than a sub, and I readjusted my thoughts. A McDonald's smoothy would be good. I vaguely recalled that the restaurant might have one with mango and pineapple.

Normally, I would have gotten out of my car and walked to the restaurant, but this was not a normal day. I signaled, pulled out of the parallel parking spot and drove down the road to the McDonald's. If not for my need to change, I would have gone through the drive thru. Even so, once I parked, I waited a while before getting out of my car, seeking a level of calm that I never did achieve. Finally, my bladder asserted its need and I grabbed my bag and walked inside, going straight to the restroom.

I tended to business, washed my hands and then went into the stall to change my clothing, feeling awkward about the whole thing. I felt like some kind of hobo changing in the stall, but was really glad that I had remembered to bring my antiperspirant. It felt good to put on my running clothes, to exchange my shiny, stiff dress shoes for my worn yet comfortable running shoes. I emerged from the restroom with my slacks hung over my arm and ignored the random stranger staring at me as he paused mid bite, a McNugget lingering half consumed in his hand.

I had planned to order my smoothie while still in the restaurant, but instead I went out to the car to put my bag away and hang up my slacks. Still, even then I planned to go back inside again. However, through the window I could still see the man watching me, and I thought better of it then.

I decided to go to the drive thru instead. I was prepared to order a smoothie, but the large picture of the vanilla shake spoke to me and I ordered that instead, justifying that I deserved some comfort food.

I considered driving straight home after making my purchase, lingering at the egress to the street. Left was toward home and right towards the hike.

A gentle beep from the car behind me got me moving and I am not even sure why I did it, but I turned right. I could have turned around, but I didn't. I suppose my stubborn streak wanted to show "them" (not that any of the cops would be there) that I wouldn't allow my ill treatment to ruin my day.

I searched for Oakham Mount Recreational Area in my GPS when waiting at the next light and then drove out of Meryton and to the brown, labeled land. I had of course heard of the place when out with the Bingleys, but I had never gone there.

The closer I got to the hiking spot, the more certain I was that a hike was just what I needed. It was a sunny day and it would be pleasant to get outside. Well let me tell you, when I arrived and parked at the trailhead, which was just a dirt parking lot big enough for three or four cars (which was empty), I was not impressed. To call the thing a mount? Someone had delusions of grandeur. It looked like just a tree covered hill.

Still, I was there and wanted to be out of the car, so I proceeded. There is something very soothing and grounding about just walking and being, with the welcoming spring sight of verdant new leaves in those bright, almost neon greens that are toned down into the usual shades when the leaves have all matured. There was enough challenge in the terrain (rocks that had to be carefully traversed, some muddy places and a few downed trees), that I had to pay attention, but not so much that I worried about my jaw or other things. It felt good just to move and observe.

I walked up the hill, spotting small clusters of wildflowers now and again. When the trail ended in a "Y" I chose the right branch rather than take the left branch straight up the hill. The right branch wove around the side of the hill. I followed the trail up and down the bumpy land. It wound this way and that, until the trail terminated at a pond that a little stream emptied into.

I stared at the water, observed how the blue sky and the tree covered hill was reflected in the mostly smooth water. It was pretty like a postcard.

I walked along the edge of the pond and then along the edge of the stream, but it terminated in rocky wall. Then I went back in the other direction as far as I could walk along the water that way. Finally, I returned to the spot where the trail began.

I wasn't ready to go back just then, for the late April sun felt good on my face and back, but there did not seem to be much more to explore in that direction and I had no great urge to double back to the path up the hill. For something to do, I gathered up a few flat rocks by the side of the pond and started to skip stones. As I skipped my pile, I heard the faint murmur of voices behind me that told me I was no longer alone, but when I turned, the winding of the path was such that I could not spot the speakers yet.

I considered leaving right then, but as there were plenty of stones around, I resolved to gather another pile, fling them and then be on my way. I picked up several and proceeded to work on skipping them. I had just three stones left, when a crunch on some few remaining leaves from the fall alerted me that they were near.

I half turned and found that emerging from the trees were the three Bennets sisters, Jane, Elizabeth and the mousy, plainer, younger sister, the one whose name I could not recall. As much as I had wanted to see Elizabeth Bennet again, this was exactly how I would not have wanted to have it happen.

I turned my back on the them again, as if it could prevent them from seeing me, shot off two unsuccessful stones which just plopped into the pond, but concentrated hard on the last one and managed to skip it thrice. Then I turned to go.

"Hi Bill," Jane greeted me. Her blond hair was pulled back in a ponytail and she was wearing light makeup with soft, cotton candy pink lipstick. Jane was dressed in cropped Lycra pants with shades of grey and pink, and a matching pink t-shirt with a name brand swoosh. She looked like she had stepped out of a catalogue selling exercise clothes, rather than having hiked the four or five miles in.

"Hi," I returned. I tried to make my "hi" pleasant, but I felt surly and out of sorts.

The other two sisters came up and flanked her. I looked at them and acknowledged them with a nod. Elizabeth did not appear to be wearing any makeup, but she was glowing from the walk, with a faint dampness to her forehead and a blush to her cheeks. Her lovely dark eyes, too, seemed brightened by the exercise. Elizabeth took a little sip from her water bottle and a single drop lingered on her bottom lip. Oh how I longed to touch her lip with my finger and sweep that drop away!

I thought Elizabeth looked beautiful, not because she was as conventionally pretty as her sister Jane, but because Elizabeth seemed full of life. She was in cropped jeans that had a stain on one knee and a couple of holes, but they hugged her just right, and she wore a ribbed teal tank top with a grey hoodie tied around her waist. The tank top accentuated her curves in an artless manner and I found myself admiring her form.

I barely glanced at the other sister, who wore oversized sweats and was huffing and puffing with her efforts and gulping from a large water bottle now that they had stopped.

"What happened to your face?" The other sister exclaimed after she finished drinking. I saw Jane elbow her and she said nothing else.

"It's nothing," I replied. The last thing I wanted to talk with the Bennet sisters was about how Chuck had punched me because he refused to believe that his sister had taken advantage of me. I felt blood rush to my face. I felt like a cornered animal and all I wanted to do was flee.

Jane drew closer and extended her left hand, almost as if she meant to touch my face. "It's not nothing. It looks like you were really hurt." Her eyes were wide with what looked like compassion and if it had been just her, I would have been tempted to explain at least a little of what had happened. But just behind her I could make out Elizabeth grimacing.

"You injury, it doesn't have anything to do with you and Chuck arguing does it?" Jane asked.

"Arguing . . . " I let my tongue feel that word. "That's one way to put it."

I really didn't want to talk about it. I forced myself to smile, even though the effect was probably ruined as it hurt to smile and I just felt off, almost like I did not belong in my own skin. "I hear congratulations are in order, that you landed Chuck." I wasn't much focused on the words coming out of my mouth, pretty much said the first thing that came to mind.

Jane smiled happily and turned her outstretched hand to show me a solitaire that looked to be close to two carats in size.

"Very nice," I told her. "I bet you never dreamed of having a rock half that size."

"No, I didn't, but Chuck is very good to me." Jane's smile continued unabated but her eyes grew unfocused. I remember telling Chuck that she smiled too much, but right then I could see how wonderful it would be to have a smile like that directed at me, rather than at the memory of Chuck proposing. Objectively, Jane was very attractive, but hers was not the smile I craved.

My eyes registered some movement from Elizabeth and I turned my head slightly to focus on her. Elizabeth's arms were now crossed and she was scowling.

"I need to go," I told Jane. I could not get away soon enough.

Jane halted me with a touch of her hand to my wrist. "I hope I will see you at the wedding. Surely you and Chuck will work out your differences by then."

I shook my head though I immediately regretted the pain it caused me. "I don't think there is anything to work out, but I am sure you will make a lovely bride."

"Still, you've been friends for so long. He is awfully torn up about it. Surely it is just some big misunderstanding."

"No, it isn't. Still, I wish you both the best." I felt then, a need to warn her about Caroline's interfering ways. "Don't let Caroline get in the way. Chuck had his pick of lovely, accomplished women, but he chose you and that's all there is to it." I tried to look cheerful, but my head was beginning to pound and my jaw to ache worse. I remembered then that I was past due to take my ibuprofen, which was back in the car in my bag.

"I really must be going. Goodbye Jane, Elizabeth . . . " I let my gaze linger on her. Elizabeth's fine eyes looked angry, although I couldn't for the life of me understand why, "and . . ." I looked at the other sister, but could not for the life of me recall her name.

"Mary," Jane supplied.

"Goodbye Mary."

The third woman nodded at me as Jane said "Goodbye Bill. I hope you recover quickly."

At that point I was already walking away and did not acknowledge her words. I walked as quickly back down the path as fast as I could without risking tripping.

Elizabeth must have known I could still hear her when she exclaimed less than thirty seconds later, "What an A-hole! Congratulating you for landing Chuck, like you are some gold digger or something, exclaiming over your rock like you could have never expected something like that."

Mary responded in a lecturing tone, "Although the etiquette books say only the man should ever be congratulated, while a woman should be told 'I hope you will be very happy.' I do not think he meant to offend."

"The hell he didn't. That was a snobby put down if I ever heard one. 'Chuck had his pick of lovely, accomplished women, but he chose you,' like you were some scum on his shoe." Elizabeth's strident tones rang out.

I could not hear the words of Jane's response, just a gentle murmur. Then Elizabeth said "You are too good, giving him the benefit of the doubt like that. No, he's a jerk for sure. I'm so glad that I won't have to go down the aisle with him. Anyone else would be better, even Cousin Collins."

Again, I could not make out Jane's reply or anything Mary might have said. Still, even as I was hurrying away as fast as I could, my ears still strained to hear any softening of Elizabeth's tone. If that happened, though, I was not privy to it.

I could not understand why for the life of me Elizabeth was ascribing all the worst motives to me for what was meant to be a genuine congratulations. At that moment, I didn't know why Elizabeth's words hurt so badly. I justified that perhaps I felt it more because it had been such a trying day.

I did not enjoy walking back of course, but there was nothing to do but to do it. When I was finally back in my car, the seat-belt buckled and waiting for the GPS to tell me the route home, I heard myself murmur "I doubt I'll ever see her again." I was not talking about Jane, but Elizabeth.

When the GPS signal finally came through (the rural area past Meryton did not have good cell phone service), I couldn't leave just then. I had taken my four ibuprofen pills, but they had yet to have any effect. I was not fit to drive as tears threatened and then despite my best attempt to quell them, began streaming down my face, wetting the bandage. I tried to tell myself that it was just from the pain. Of course I didn't believe that, not even then.

Then I blamed it on what had happened at the police station, on what was going on with G.G. being missing and finding out how truly awfully she'd been acting before that, but the picture in my mind didn't match that, either. For I could see Elizabeth perfectly, as she scowled with her arms crossed. There was a fire in her eyes, and indignation, all directed at me. But even then, she was lovely and desirable.

I wondered, even as I let the tears fall, what it would have been like to kiss Elizabeth, to have all her passion, even her anger that she let loose after I left, directed at me. In this little fantasy, I was not as I was on that day, bandaged and aching, unable to kiss properly even if I had wanted to do that. Instead, I was whole and strong.

But I was certain that would never happen, for what else could I conclude but that Elizabeth despised me, and I wasn't like Caroline. I would never make a move on someone that didn't want the same.

I cried a little harder then. I suppose I needed that catharsis considering everything. After perhaps ten minutes I was through the worst of it and blew my nose several times before I decided I was well enough to leave. Concentrating on the road was just what I needed and it wouldn't do to still be in the parking lot when the Bennet sisters got back. The thought that Elizabeth might see that I had been crying . . . well it was more than I could bear.

I pulled out quick and drove home. When I got home, I drank a glass of milk and then readied myself for bed. My lips felt chapped, and I was searching around in a bathroom drawer for some lip balm, when I came across G.G.'s old brush. I had given her a newer model as a stocking stuffer for Christmas and the old one had ended up in the drawer and not gone with her to England.

I picked up the brush and let its bristle tips run over my hand. I recalled that after my parents died, I used to brush G.G.'s hair for her, the way my mother had brushed mine when I was small. Really, at that point she should have been old enough to brush her hair herself, but she had asked me to do it, and I had taken up the task until she declined my help when she started middle school. I think it relaxed us both, to have that little nurturing intimacy.

When pulling out knots, I learned to hold the hank of hair near her scalp so that it didn't hurt her. I learned to pull her hair into a ponytail, to braid it. I remembered many times when she had sat on the floor in front of the couch so that I could fix her hair. She had been so much younger then.

Perhaps it was odd of me, but I took the brush into my room with me, used it on my own hair, vaguely remembering my mother's touch upon my head. My hair had been short and only required a few swipes, both then and now.

I stretched myself out on the bed, lying on my back, still grasping the brush. I thought about where G.G. might be now, and wondered if her hair was clean or knotted, where she was sleeping, if she was safe or scared. Eventually I fell asleep. My sleep was fitful, and I dreamed on and off about the various traumas I had recently experienced, but most of the dreams were vague jumbles. However, I roused myself for the day when it was barely morning, just past 4 am, after awaking from a vivid dream.

In the dream, Elizabeth yelled and pointed her finger at me even as a drop of water lingered on her bottom lip. My dream self apparently had less compunction than my awake self, for in the dream I silenced Elizabeth with a kiss which she eagerly returned, too eagerly perhaps. When I pulled back to catch my breath, she had turned into Caroline, her fingernails which had been lightly scratching at my scalp turned into claws that held me tight, digging into me like fishing hooks. Still, I continued to pull back, even as the hooks dug into me and stung.

Fortunately, the dream aborted at that point, and my morning wood was already softening by then (I felt zero attraction for Caroline now). I found that the fish hook sensation had a real source. Somehow the brush had become wedged against my neck, the bristles poking me.

Of course once I removed the brush and placed it on my nightstand, my mind wanted to play through the end of the dream again and again, rather than the more pleasant part of it. I could have used more sleep, but I saw no point in trying to sleep after that.

I remembered being a small child and imagining monsters in the closet or under the bed. But now that I was an adult, I knew all too well that some monsters were real. They just wore human skin.