Compulsively Mr. Darcy (18 page)

Leading Mrs. Reynolds and Georgiana, Richard entered the study without knocking. Darcy pushed something underneath a file on his desk and scowled at them.

Richard held up a hand. “No, we didn't knock. We're here for an intervention.”

“I don't have time for your nonsense,” Darcy snapped. “I have work to do.”

“Yes, you do. You're going to work with us to figure out what went wrong between Elizabeth and you. Since you're obviously clueless, we're going to help.”

“I don't know what you're talking about. It's over. I haven't thought about her for—” Darcy paused, a wary expression on his face as Richard edged close to the desk.

With a quick movement, Richard lifted up the file and had a photo in his hand. “It's over? Haven't thought about her? Who's this, then?”

Almost reflexively, Darcy grabbed the photo back. “Get out.”

Richard motioned for Mrs. Reynolds and Georgiana to sit. “You might as well get comfortable. This isn't going to be quick.” He turned back to Darcy. “You won't go see a doctor, so we're doing it this way. We're not going to leave until you talk.”

Darcy's lips tightened.

Richard sighed. “We care about you, William, and we care about Elizabeth. Maybe you two aren't meant to be together, but until you figure out why it failed, it's not over and you can't move on.” He watched as the anger left his cousin. Darcy sat and stared at the photo in his hand. Gently, Richard asked, “What do you think went wrong?”

Darcy threw the photo onto the desk. In a defeated voice, he admitted, “I don't know.”

Georgiana reached a hand toward her brother. “It's okay, Will.”

“No, it's not.” Richard firmly cut off the flow of sympathy. “He thinks he knows what went wrong and blames himself. That's why he hasn't gone after her.”

The anger returned to Darcy's voice. “She left me to go and figure out what to do with her life. It's simple: she discovered medicine's more important than being with me, and she realized I was a liability, excess baggage.”

“Oh, come on. You don't believe that, do you?” Richard asked. “Did she actually say those nonsense words?”

“She used ‘liability' and mentioned PTF in the same sentence. You and I had a discussion on this very issue in Central Park that one day, remember? What I predicted happened. She left because she didn't get the job. I didn't matter.”

“I don't care, even if she did say those exact words; she's not that shallow,” Richard asserted. For a while, he had lost faith in Elizabeth, but now, having heard that she was still in contact with—and obviously cared very much about—Georgiana, he wanted concrete answers before he would give up.

“I agree,” Mrs. Reynolds spoke.

“Me too,” Georgiana added. “Even if she did say it, I don't believe that was her reason. You might have misunderstood because you were upset.”

“I know what I heard,” Darcy insisted. “She specifically asked me not to go after her.”

Georgiana's face fell. “Oh.”

“Perhaps so,” Richard said, “but it still doesn't fit. She can't be that good of an actress to fool all of us. It doesn't fit with a woman who came to New York to get a job to help you! I was the biggest skeptic of her at the beginning, but it wasn't long before I recognized her feelings for you were genuine.”

“Richard is right,” Mrs. Reynolds said.

Georgiana straightened in her seat. “Yes, it doesn't fit, Will.”

Richard watched as hope tiptoed into Darcy's eyes. “Yes, we all agree. She cared about you, Darce. Her face always lit up whenever you were near. But something happened. Let's figure out what. Talk it out with us, okay?”

After a long moment, Darcy nodded.

Richard suggested, “Let's start when you first met until the day she left. We might see something you missed. Well, leave out the intimate details, that'd be TMI, unless that was the problem? I knew I should have given you some pointers there.”

“In your dreams,” Darcy immediately shot back. His face flushed, as if he suddenly remembered the presence of his sister and Mrs. Reynolds in the room.

Her own face pink, Mrs. Reynolds smiled. Georgiana snickered. The tension in the room lessened.

“Yes, do talk, William,” Mrs. Reynolds said. “It's not good to keep everything bottled up inside you.”

The kind, motherly voice did the trick. Darcy talked. He ended up revealing a lot more than he had meant to while Richard relentlessly flooded him with questions to keep the narrative going.

“And then she came to New York, and you know what happened after that,” Darcy ended and waited.

Silence met him for a long moment then a titter came from his sister, followed by an uncharacteristic giggle from Mrs. Reynolds. Darcy looked offended.

“I'm so sorry, Will. I shouldn't laugh,” Georgiana apologized. “You and Charles were gay partners adopting a baby. Haahaaa!” She almost fell off her chair laughing.

Mrs. Reynolds said, “She may not have known you very well, but she really loved you.”

“That's it! She doesn't know you well. Do you see a pattern here?” Richard knew he had been given a gold mine of material to tease his cousin about later, but now was not the time.

Darcy's hands spread. “What pattern? I've been through it a million times trying to find the clues I might have missed.”

“She keeps misunderstanding and misreading you,” Richard said. “That's the pattern. Who could blame her? You're not an open book, even to us.”

“She does have a tendency to act impulsively when she has decided on something. She's convinced she's right until proven otherwise.” Darcy brightened, but then the hope in his eyes dimmed. “She also likes to rescue people. I was a sad sap when we met. Maybe that's all I was, a pity job.”

“Oh, stop it with the pity party. She wanted you. The hospital job was an excuse to be with you,” Richard pointed out.

“Then why leave me when the job didn't work out?” Darcy countered. “If it wasn't important, why would she have found another job just a week after she left here? It doesn't make sense.”

“No, it doesn't.” Richard agreed.

“Aunt Catherine's birthday call!” Georgiana exclaimed. “That was the day before she left. What you said might have upset her.”

Darcy looked perplexed. “What? What did I say?”

“You said something about not wanting her to meet Aunt Catherine, and how you've never taken any woman you dated to meet her.”

“Fitzwilliam Darcy, you told your fiancée that you didn't want to introduce her to your aunt, just as you didn't with any of the other women?” Mrs. Reynolds said in a shocked voice. “How could you?”

“I… uh… I…” Darcy turned to his sister. “Did I really say that?”

“You did, Will.” Georgiana nodded. “I heard you.”

“Ouch. Even I know better than to say something like that to a woman I'm dating, much less engaged to,” Richard said. He started. “Engaged! Your secret engagement! Wait a minute, Anne looked too satisfied when I mentioned you and Elizabeth had broken up. Did you ever do anything about Anne? Keep her from Elizabeth? I warned you she might try something.”

“Will, what if Elizabeth heard about Anne and you?” Georgiana asked. “You know Aunt Catherine truly believes you two will get married one day. And no matter how much you deny Anne's being a part of it, she has never actively discouraged Aunt Catherine.”

“I knew it.” Richard slapped the table. “I knew it. The damn bitch had something to do with it. They must have said something to Elizabeth.”

Darcy's face turned ashen. “Oh God! I remember now… she said something about being of no consequence and I think I even agreed… I was distracted. She misunderstood me. That's why she didn't come to bed that night! Why didn't she talk to me? I would have explained what I meant.”

“Because when you're hurt, you can't talk about it right then,” Georgiana said. “You casually lumped her in with the women you dated, and she has her pride.”

“Lumping her in with the women you dated,” Richard suddenly remembered. “That day outside of DDF, I mentioned to Elizabeth about going out with one of your old flames. What's her name, now? She left me a nasty note.”

“How could you tell Elizabeth about my old flames?” Darcy's hands flexed as if he wanted to strangle Richard. “I don't have any old flames to speak of.”

“Helena, that was her name.” Richard was triumphant. He sobered. “You're going to kill me, Darce. I might have mentioned something about getting lucky with Helena and using your penthouse that night.”

“What? You told her about the penthouse? She didn't know about the penthouse. I never mentioned it to her. I'm not proud of that.” Darcy shot a wary glance toward his sister.

Georgiana rolled her eyes. “Please. It's not like I think you're still a virgin.”

“She received a phone call that afternoon while she was in here, this room. I heard it ring,” Mrs. Reynolds said. “I don't know who called. But she went for a walk right after.”

“She must have walked to DDF to talk to you. And then I intercepted her and… made it worse. I'm sorry, Darce.” Richard could kick himself for his big mouth.

“She must have been so hurt… to suddenly feel she needed to leave”—Darcy raised a shaking hand to his mouth—“without talking to me.”

Richard asked, “Who called her? The hospital called about the job? Or was that something she made up to break up with you?”

“No, they didn't offer her the job. I checked,” Darcy said. “I even thought about offering them money to hire her and have her come back. But I didn't.”

Not a bad idea, Richard thought but did not say.

Darcy covered his eyes with one hand. “I've been too focused on myself to ask questions about why they didn't want her. I should have done something to make her want to stay. She wouldn't be in a dangerous place now.”

“You are not responsible,” Mrs. Reynolds said in a firm voice. “Miss Elizabeth is a grown woman. She could have stayed and talked to you, no matter how hurt she was. It was her choice to leave instead and go to wherever she has gone.”

The phone rang and Mrs. Reynolds went to answer it. Richard mouthed silently to Georgiana, “Where is she now?”

She mouthed back, “Don't know, still in Darfur, probably.”

Darcy dropped his hand and stood. “I'm going after her.”

Mrs. Reynolds hung up the phone. “That was Mr. Bingley. He called to invite you to a wedding next month.”

***

Richard stepped out of his rented car and glanced around. Orinda had too many trees for a city boy like him.

Elizabeth had safely left Africa last month and gone home to her parents. She still didn't want to hear from Darcy and had moved on with her life.

“Did she actually say she didn't want to hear from you and she's moved on?” Richard had asked when his cousin informed him.

Darcy admitted he didn't talk to Elizabeth personally, but a woman who answered the phone at her parents' home had—upon hearing his name—immediately screamed, “She doesn't want to have anything to do with you. She's moved on!” and hung up on him. When he called back, he discovered a block had been placed on his number to prevent his calls from getting through. His emails, text messages, and a personal letter had also been refused.

Richard had berated his cousin for giving up without talking to Elizabeth personally until Darcy threw a magazine at him and coldly told him to read page twenty. A photo, taken last month in Darfur, showed Elizabeth, with another man's arms around her, boarding a private jet. The accompanying caption read:

Is Dr. Elizabeth Bennet of Doctors Without Borders Jorge Cooley's new love? The two bonded over shared concern about the atrocities being committed in Darfur. Has Jorge finally found a woman as committed as he is to saving humanity? Yes, a close, anonymous friend reportedly confirmed.

Richard kicked a rock on the gravel driveway. He wanted to hear it straight from Elizabeth's lips she had no more feelings for Darcy. If she indeed had moved on, with or without the famous playboy actor Jorge Cooley, then Richard planned to give her hell for her callousness and tell her to stay away from Georgiana.

Some woman, obviously a crazy relative, had screamed in Richard's ear when he tried to call Elizabeth—the same treatment Darcy received. Straightening his shoulders, Richard marched to the front door. Secluded behind a large grove of trees, with some unruly purple flowers dripping down from a vine growing along the porch's frame, the house appeared homely and nonthreatening. At the last moment, he detoured a few yards toward the side window. He'd peek first before ringing the doorbell.

“Ooompph!” He landed face down on the hard gravel—with someone's foot pressed against his neck. He caught a glimpse of a dark figure before the pressure on his neck increased. His assailant twisted his left arm at a painful angle behind his back. Richard lifted his head and a blast of gas rushed at his face. His eyes burned. His face burned. His nose burned.

“What the hell?” he tried to say but only warbling noises came out. His lips and tongue felt like someone had dipped them in hot oil. He concentrated on breathing instead.
I've been Maced!

“All right, dickhead. Why are you peeking into our window?” a feminine voice came from above. The foot pressed tighter against his left jugular, cutting off circulation to that side of his head. “Casing it? Watch it, I've got a gun on you.”

When he could feel his tongue again, he managed to croak, “Dr. Bennet.”

“What do you want with my father?” The foot removed itself from his neck. “Why are you coming to his home instead of his office at school?”