Compulsively Mr. Darcy (20 page)

“I look like a biker chick hooker.” Elizabeth studied her black halter-top and low-rise leather pants. She peered at her exposed belly button to make sure it was clean. Turning sideways, she sighed. “A fat biker chick hooker.”

“You don't look fat, just big-breasted chubby,” Lydia said. “Are you sure you can't call up some guys and invite them to the party, Lizzy?”

Elizabeth shook her head. “Hussein doesn't want men at his bachelor party, just us.”

Lydia said, “Kitty doesn't know how much fun she's missing. The bitch.”

“Lydia!” Jane scolded.

“She is a bitch,” Lydia said, “refusing to come and spend sisterly time with us because she disapproves of Hussein. Stupid stuck-up Stanford cow.”

“Careful, Lydia,” Elizabeth said, “you might decide to apply to Stanford in a couple of years.”

“No way,” Lydia said. “I'm smart. I have good grades. I'll get into Cal. If not, I'd rather go to Mills than Stanford.”

“That would make Dad very happy, I'm sure,” Jane said, “you attending a women's college.”

“Hey, stranger things have happened,” Lydia said. “Look at Mary, miss politically-correct-environmentalist-vegan now wearing black leather, getting her nails done, and letting us put makeup on her.”

Mary shrugged. “Plumage doeth not make a womyn.”

“Well I, for one, am grateful for Mary being a good sport,” Elizabeth said. At one point during their long drive from Berkeley, Mary whispered she had something important to tell Elizabeth after the wedding. Elizabeth sighed. She wished her genius sister would finish her degree in computer science before indulging in any more eco-protest stunts. She glanced at the clock. “It's time to go to Hussein's room.”

Jane said, “What a small world, Hussein marrying Caroline Bingley. She and the Hursts were friendly when I met them again at the rehearsal dinner last night.”

“At least she stopped pretending she'd never met me before, like she did in Darfur,” Elizabeth said with a small laugh. “She slipped up and asked me why I cut my hippie-long hair.”

“Mrs. Hurst told me Caroline is very angry their brother's not here to walk her down the aisle tomorrow,” Jane said.

Elizabeth didn't respond. She was glad she wouldn't see Charles this weekend. She wasn't quite up to dealing with the awkwardness and not asking about… she stopped the direction of her thought and put a coat on over her revealing outfit. There was no way she was parading around the hotel looking like a hooker.

Wearing a white leather suit and looking sad, Hussein opened his door.

Elizabeth hugged him. “Remember, it's not too late to back out.”

“No way. My mother and all her friends are here. Besides, I'm marrying a woman whose family owns a private jet.” He examined Elizabeth's outfit. “I wish you would let me take a plaster model of your breasts now, before they go downhill and sag after you breast-feed. But I can do a lift for you then.”

Elizabeth pushed him away. “No way am I ever letting you touch me with your knife.”

Lydia pulled him aside and whispered in his ear. Hussein shook his head at her. “No alcohol. You know it's against my religion.”

“You're going to need the alcohol for the wedding night,” Elizabeth said to Hussein while Jane scolded the underage Lydia for her alcohol question.

“Don't worry, darling. It won't be much of a problem. She's frigid. That's why I'm marrying her. She'll be happy for me to leave her alone,” Hussein said.

Lydia covered her ears. “Ew! TMI!” She dropped her hands. “Was Lizzy frigid?”

“She thought she was frigid, but she's not. Look at her. She's knocked down with big boobs.” He shrugged off Elizabeth's glare. “Caroline thinks she's hot, but she's cold. Trust me, my bride-to-be won't be knocked down.”

Elizabeth said, “It's knocked up, not knocked down. How many times have I told you that?”

He shrugged and laughed. “Up or down, doesn't matter. You look beaten. Let's dance.”

Elizabeth played DJ while her sisters danced around him. She needed to rest. This trip had been a great distraction for her. It was good to finally get off her parents' couch, and her mood and her nausea had improved.

When the first song ended, Hussein ordered, “Darling, put on ‘Dancing Queen' by ABBA!”

She started tapping her feet to the music at first, but after watching her three sisters uninhibitedly dancing and laughing, she decided to join them in circling Hussein.

“I love you Bennet girls!” Hussein said.

Laughing, Elizabeth lost herself in the music and the dancing.

***

“Your sister still doesn't know you're here? And that you're bringing two extra guests to her wedding?”

Staring at the landscaped cactus garden outside the window of his hotel room, Darcy heard Richard ask Bingley the question.

“I left a message that I've arrived from Africa,” Bingley laughed. “Not my fault if they don't check messages. I'm hoping to miss most of the pre-wedding festivities and just show up for the actual ceremony. And what's the big deal with two extra people at a wedding?”

“Man, that's cold, dissing your sister's wedding activities.” Richard whistled. “You got some new cojones while you were in Africa, man. I had a girlfriend once who wanted me to attend her sister's boring wedding rehearsal luncheon, and when I forgot and went to play golf instead, she accused me of being passive-aggressive and broke up with me.”

“No, women don't understand that,” Bingley agreed in a dry voice.

“Yeah. They fuss and won't let you say no without it becoming a fight. Then they get upset when you forget to do what you didn't want to do in the first place. They call that being passive-aggressive.” Richard shook his head. “You don't have to go to the rehearsal dinner tonight?”

“Missed it. Caroline would not have trusted a rehearsal done the eve before the wedding. She had it last night. I didn't arrive until this morning, remember?” Charles winked. “After spending months in Africa, I don't feel like dealing with Caroline's pretentious wedding crowd. I'm here to give her away for the ceremony, as she commanded. How hard is it to walk down an aisle?”

Darcy stopped listening to their conversation. He hadn't wanted to come to Arizona to attend—no, apparently to crash, as it turned out—a wedding of people he didn't care about, but Richard had wanted to convince Bingley to come back to work sooner, to take over some of the work previously done by Anne.

When Richard came back from California two weeks ago, he told Darcy that Elizabeth had indeed moved on. From the uncharacteristically gentle way his cousin gave him the news, Darcy knew he had truly lost her.

Bingley's cell phone rang and interrupted Darcy's thoughts from traveling down that dark road further.

Bingley grimaced. “My sisters found me. I better take this in the other room. There will be yelling.” He returned a few minutes later in a surprisingly cheerful mood. “Gentlemen, I got orders. We're crashing the bachelor party. Hot-looking hooker chicks just entered my future brother-in-law's room for his bachelor party. Caroline wants me to make sure that he stays pure.”

Richard stood and whooped. “Woo-hoo! We'll be impure for him. I'll do anything for your sister, man.” He turned to Darcy. “Don't even think of staying away. You can just come and look, you know. I know you won't touch. You're so damn fastidious.”

“And you're never fastidious enough.”

“Let's not fight,” Bingley intervened. “Come on, Darce. Come along and help make sure Richard stays clean.”

“Yeah, you can come play den mother and pass out condoms,” Richard said while pushing Bingley out of the door. “What's the room number, Charles?”

Shrugging, Darcy reluctantly followed. He wanted to make sure that Richard behaved. They could hear loud music when they reached the fiancé's room. No one answered Bingley's knocking.

Richard pushed him out of the way and rapped hard on the door. “I want to see some skin and curves tonight.”

A tiny woman in black leather opened the door. When she saw Richard, her eyes narrowed. She hissed, “You!”

“You!” Richard returned.

Darcy and Bingley glanced at each other. Darcy shook his head. He didn't recognize the woman. Richard and the woman began to argue. After peering into the room, Bingley froze. Curious, Darcy looked.

Elizabeth was dancing! She turned. Her eyes met his. Her body stilled.

Blood drained from Darcy's head. His chest suddenly felt too small for his lungs.

A smiling man in white walked in between them. He said something but Darcy couldn't hear past the loud drumming in his ears.

Elizabeth rushed past him.

Someone—Jane, Darcy dimly recognized—ran after her.

He realized then he hadn't dreamt it. It was really his Elizabeth!

The man in white leather pulled Darcy to a chair. “Sit, you look like you had a shock. Put your head between your knees.”

Darcy obediently allowed the man to push his head down.

The man asked, “Tell me, are you the one that knocked Elizabeth down?”

“Shut the fuck up, Hussein!” a woman screamed before Darcy could fully lift his head at hearing the question.

“Three hot guys enter the room and immediately two of my sisters run out and the third one is screaming. Stop screaming, Mary, you know it's not ladylike to scream,” a young girl said in a surprisingly firm voice. She turned to Darcy. “They're embarrassed to be caught looking like hookers. But I always say, if you got it, flaunt it. Hi, I'm Lydia Bennet.”

“Shut up, Lydia! And stop flirting. These men are dangerous. They hurt Lizzy in New York. They followed her here,” Mary screamed.

Darcy's heart hammered hard against his rib cage. Someone had hurt his Elizabeth. He stood and approached Mary. “Who? Tell me who.”

The screamer clamped her mouth and stared back at him with a defiant look.

Richard's hand touched her shoulder. “Is this why you wouldn't let us talk to her? You think we beat her up?”

Lydia shoved his arm away. She wedged herself between them and held her fists up to Richard's face. “Don't touch my sister.”

“I think there might be some sort of misunderstanding here. I'm Charles Bingley, and this is my friend William and his cousin Richard.” Bingley put out his hand toward the man in white leather. “My sister is marrying the groom, and that must be you, Hassan?”

“Hussein,” the groom corrected.

Darcy's head whipped toward him at hearing the familiar name again.

Mary stepped toward Darcy and bared her teeth. “You! You were the one who beat her up. Don't play innocent.”

“What? I never touched her.” Darcy instinctively took a step backward before he realized he had done so.

“Uh… I think that's not quite true,” Hussein said with a laugh, which ended abruptly when the screamer glared at him. He too took a backward step from her.

Bingley stepped up again and within minutes managed to unravel the story from Mary. Gasps of disbeliefs descended into loud guffaws from Richard and Bingley when Mary finished.

“Man, your relationship with Elizabeth has been one comic misunderstanding after another.” Richard laughed and slapped Darcy's back.

Darcy failed to see the humor, but at least he now understood the screamer's attitude. No wonder she wouldn't let him near Elizabeth. Suddenly, realization and hope thundered through the air and struck him at the knees. He wobbled. Grabbing the back of a chair, he steadied himself. Richard was wrong.
Elizabeth
had
not
moved
on!

“Darce, you and Elizabeth need to talk, now,” Bingley said to him, then turned to Mary. “They need privacy to talk to each other. I assure you he won't harm a hair on her head.”

Mary looked unconvinced, though she nodded. “We'll be close by. He better watch himself.”

***

Leaving a crowd in the small sitting room of the sisters' hotel suite, Darcy quietly entered the bedroom.

Jane sat on the edge of the bed, soothing her crying sister.

He cleared his throat.

Jane gave him an assessing look. What she saw must have reassured her. She nodded at him. “Lizzy, William is here.” Jane stroked her sister's hair one more time then left the room, closing the door quietly behind her.

With each little sniffle Elizabeth made, his heart flinched, though he stayed where he was and waited for her to acknowledge his presence.

After long moments, she stopped crying, hiccupped, and peeked at him over the edge of the bed covers.

He recognized pain—mixed with a flash of something—before she closed her beautiful green eyes and turned away.

When she turned back a moment later, she had composed herself. “Hello, William.”

Despite her attempt to mask it, he heard the quiver in her voice. That, and the flash of love he glimpsed was enough.

He decided to trust.

He knew he would get them through this. They would make it. As long as she still cared for him, he would fight for her. No holding back. No more fear.

Feeling surprisingly calm now, he stepped closer. “Your sister Mary thought I was beating you up in New York and that's why you left me.”

Her eyes widened. She sat up. The blanket fell from her body and his gaze involuntarily dropped. Had her breasts always been that full?

She said, “What? How ever did she get that idea? You would never do that.”

He sat at the foot of the bed and smiled a small smile. “You would never have let me. But I'm glad you realize I would never hurt you physically”—he paused to swallow—“or intentionally.”

She moved closer to him. “Will—”

He put a finger to her lips. The exquisite rush of feelings from that barest touch almost made him lose his composure. His hand trembled and he withdrew it.