Elizabeth waited in the tiny room, puzzled at how long she had been there. Almost an hour had passed since the two detectives left, promising to “be back in a few minutes.” She wasn’t complaining; she certainly didn’t want to go to a holding cell, but she wanted to know what was going on.
She looked up at Linda, a question in her eyes, and Linda frowned and nodded. “The DA’s office should have called me by now.” Linda stood up. “Let me go and place a call and see—” Her words were interrupted when the door opened and three people entered the room.
There were two large burly men wearing suits, followed by someone Elizabeth knew. “Winnie!”
The woman smiled in recognition. “Hi, Lizzy.”
“Miss Bennet,” the man with lighter-colored hair said, “I’m Agent Austen of the DEA, and this is my partner, Agent Holmes. We would like to have a word with you,” he looked squarely at Linda, “in private.”
Elizabeth drew in a breath to speak, but the sound of Linda’s deep-throated laughter interrupted her.
“You don’t really think I’m going to let you speak to her without counsel, do you?” Linda asked disbelievingly, her eyes locked with Agent Austen’s.
Agent Austen bit back a retort. “Ms. St. Andrews?” Agent Holmes said in a calmer voice. “Miss Bennet is no longer under arrest. She’s free to go.”
“What?” Elizabeth gasped. Linda’s face was more composed, but she was clearly astonished.
“I saw Wickham place the drugs in your bag, Lizzy. The police know that you are innocent,” Winnie said gently.
Elizabeth struggled to comprehend her words. Innocent? Free to go? Just like that? It was what she was praying for, but it didn’t seem possible.
“You’re free, Miss Bennet,” Agent Holmes began, “but we would like to ask a favor of you.” His eyes flicked to Linda’s.
Elizabeth became aware she needed to speak. “I would like Linda to stay, if that’s possible.”
Agent Holmes, a tall man with very dark curly hair, lifted an eyebrow at Linda and said, “Of course. May we sit down?”
The newcomers joined them at the table and had a quick, silent conference with their eyes. Linda leaned back in her seat, clearly waiting to hear what was coming.
Winnie finally spoke. “Lizzy, what we are going to tell you is going to have to stay confidential. It’s vitally important. Do you understand?”
Elizabeth nodded, still puzzled.
“Winnie isn’t my real name. I’m actually Agent Wendy Yee. The DEA has been investigating George Wickham, and I’ve been working undercover.”
Elizabeth’s jaw dropped. “But…” She was filled with so many questions that she didn’t know where to begin. Instead, she kept quiet, allowing Winnie—that is, Wendy—explain.
Linda clearly had other plans. Her chair slid back and she sprang to her feet. “You’re a Fed?!?” she demanded angrily. “And you let them take her in when you knew she was innocent? How dare you? Do you know this is going to affect her career?”
Wendy fixed Linda with a hard stare, and Elizabeth could see the sparks coming off both of them. “Ms. St. Andrews, if you would just sit down, I will explain,” she said icily.
Linda sat down and glared.
“Wickham is a major player in the cocaine trade in New York City. He receives shipments from South America and arranges for their transport to New York, and then he cuts and distributes them throughout his network of dealers. He also launders the money.”
Wendy turned to Lizzy. “I’ve been following Wickham for several months now. When we first met, I didn’t know if you knew about Wickham’s illegal business transactions and I didn’t want to discourage you. When you came down to Tampa yesterday, I knew by then who was clean and who wasn’t.”
“Miss Bennet, George Wickham went to a great deal of trouble and expense to set you up. Do you have any idea why he would have a personal grudge against you?” Agent Austen asked.
Elizabeth looked to Linda, who rolled her eyes and nodded. The DEA had shown Elizabeth their hand; it was time to reveal hers. “He has a long-standing dispute with my… um, boyfriend, Will Darcy.” She felt her cheeks warm from the inelegance of the title.
“Fitzwilliam Darcy?”
Elizabeth nodded. “I’ll admit this seems extreme,” she attempted to explain.
“Don’t worry about it, Lizzy,” Wendy stopped her. “We know George is unstable. He’s becoming paranoid from the cocaine and soon he will be too far gone for his higher-ups to use him. That is why we want to arrest him now.”
“You said you need my help? I don’t understand. I don’t know anything about drugs.”
“Yes,” Linda said in a slow, careful voice, “what exactly are you offering?”
“As Austen said, Wickham blew a lot of money to get you framed, and he did a good job of it. The deputy DA did not want to let you go,” Agent Holmes explained. “Wickham is going to be watching you to enjoy his revenge. If you are released now, he will know it and he’ll suspect something is wrong.”
“Lizzy, George received a major shipment of drugs while on the island,” Wendy continued. “He has it coming up north overland by way of three couriers, called mules, arriving through the night. Tomorrow morning, we plan to arrest him and the whole operation. We’re very close to nailing him. We want you to play along with the arrest and stay at the station house tonight. You don’t have to go to a holding cell or anything; you can stay here. In the morning, you can leave when you normally would, after a mock arraignment.”
“Once we have Wickham, we will make a public announcement, clearing you of all charges,” Holmes added.
Elizabeth frowned. “When do you expect to arrest George?”
“Before noon,” Wendy answered.
Elizabeth sagged in her seat. She felt like she was on a roller coaster. It was difficult enough to accept that she was free and that the charges would be dropped. Now she was struggling with a new request: to stay when all she wanted was to go home to Darcy. She sat stunned as she heard Linda firing off question after question to make sure the deal was fair. Elizabeth didn’t understand half of what she said, and frankly, she was too tired to care.
“Can I call Will? I’d like to discuss this with him,” she asked numbly, when there was a break in the conversation.
“No,” Austen snapped.
Wendy leaned forward. “Elizabeth, I know Will is special to you, but he has a history with Wickham and there are a lot of rumors about him being a drug user. We have to insist that you not tell him about this until George is in custody.”
Elizabeth felt as if she had been slapped. Shock and embarrassment were quickly followed by hurt and anger. “But he’s not like that. He hates Wickham.” Elizabeth felt Linda’s hand on her arm, gently squeezing her, and she stopped.
“He deserves to be consulted. If Lizzy and Darcy are connected by the media, it will affect his reputation,” Linda pointed out coolly.
“You’re worried about Fitzwilliam Darcy’s reputation?” Agent Austen scoffed.
Wendy rolled her eyes and spoke up before another argument could break out. “It’s too late for that. MTV News covered the arrest and there was an altercation between George and Richard Fitzwilliam at the airport. They’re reporting that as well. It won’t take long for them to connect you two. I’m sorry, Lizzy. We have to insist on that. You can take a moment to think about it, if you want.”
Elizabeth nodded. “Please.”
The three agents looked at each other and filed out of the room. Elizabeth put her elbows on the table and rested her head in her hands. Sighing, she looked up at Linda. “I just want to get out of here, and now this. Damn it. Why doesn’t the universe want me to be happy?”
Linda shrugged. “Maybe the universe does.” She took a deep breath and continued. “Look, Lizzy, I hate this too, but I was there three years ago. I was the one who told Will not to press charges against George after Ramsgate. Looking at it now, that might have been the wrong decision, but I was trying to protect Georgie. Believe me, I still feel guilt over that one. My point is that you have a chance now to really help Will, and yourself. If Wickham wiggles out of this, he’s not going to go away. He’s going to find another way to hurt Will and you.”
Elizabeth nodded thoughtfully. “Okay. I guess I can stand a few more hours in this place.”
“Lizzy? You know that there are going to be people who won’t believe that you are innocent if you do this.”
Elizabeth smirked. “I know. It sucks, but frankly, it’s nothing new. Ever since I joined this tour, people have been dragging my name through the mud. ‘Slurry’s Bitches’ they call us.” She smiled ruefully at the memory.
“So you are going to do it?”
“Yeah, what choice do I have? I just wish I could get some word to Will. This is going to kill him.”
Linda pursed her lips thoughtfully. “I’ll call him.”
Elizabeth’s eyes lit up.
“Don’t get all excited. I’m not going to tell him about Wickham. There are too many chances that someone might monitor the call, but I’ll tell him you are safe and all right.”
Elizabeth frowned even as she agreed. “Make it good, Linda. And tell him I love him.”
Linda nodded. Within minutes the deal was set. Elizabeth would spend the night in the interrogation room. Hot coffee and snacks were provided, and she was allowed to call her parents and relieve their worries. Linda departed, promising to return in the morning, and Elizabeth settled in to wait out the night, alone with her thoughts.
It was almost midnight when the phone rang. Darcy pounced on it like a cat and answered. “Darcy,” he snapped.
“It’s Linda.”
“What’s going on?”
Linda could hear the tension in his voice. “Elizabeth is okay. She’s being held overnight until her arraignment in the morning.”
“Is she safe?”
“Yes, they are handling her with kid gloves and even gave her a separate cell.” Linda waited, but heard nothing in response. “Darcy? Will?”
“I’m here,” he replied automatically.
“Will, she’s as safe as she can be. And I have good news: a witness came forward. I think I can get the charges dropped tomorrow.”
Darcy felt his heart start beating again with her words. “Linda, I love you.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
“If they know she is innocent, why can’t she be released now?”
“Procedure, Will. There is no way to get her out before the arraignment. You are just going to have to accept that and try not to worry. She’s safe.”
Darcy wished it were that easy. “How is she doing? Is she very upset?”
“She’s upset, but she’s hanging tough. She’s mostly worried about you.”
“Really?”
“She wanted me to tell you that she loves you.”
For a moment, Darcy was speechless. When he spoke again, his voice was rough. “Linda, whatever it takes tomorrow—bail, bribe, I don’t care—you have got to get her out!”
“I will, I will. They told me the news has grabbed this?”
“Yes,” Darcy said tiredly.
“That means that the press is going to be all over her after the arraignment tomorrow. How are we going to get her out of there and where is she going?”
Darcy’s voice changed, from depressed and defeated to hard and businesslike. “Linda, this is her home. My limo and my security will pick her up and bring her here.”
Linda smiled to herself. “That means the press will be all over you too.”
“Fuck the press.”
“I just wanted to be sure where we stand.”
“Just bring her home. That’s all I care about.”
Darcy looked at the phone he just turned off. Georgiana had called when she saw the news report on television. The first part of their conversation was a simple recounting of the facts. Darcy did his best to keep Wickham’s name out of it, but it was unavoidable.
Georgiana surprised him by handling it better than he expected. He wondered, as he walked through the quiet of the loft, if it was helpful for her to see Wickham doing his thing on someone else. From a distance, it was easier to see that he was a villain and to evaluate his actions.
Darcy smiled mirthlessly as he got himself a bottle of water. It would be ironic if the one good thing that came out of this ordeal were for Georgie to do better.
Darcy told his sister what Linda told him: it was likely that the charges against Elizabeth would be dropped, and in any case she would be released tomorrow. He wished he believed it.
Oh, he trusted Linda; there was no better lawyer that money could buy. It was his luck he feared. He occupied himself for almost an hour, thinking of ways and reasons that Elizabeth wouldn’t be released, that she would be taken away from him, or that, worse yet, she would hate him for what Wickham did.
Memories were triggered by these thoughts and he went noiselessly to his library. He said a silent prayer as he booted up his computer and opened his email. His breath rushed out as he found what he was hoping for: Elizabeth’s song.
He plugged in headphones to avoid waking the others and quietly, with a tear running down his cheek, he listened to the song she had written just for him.
He sang along with her voice, picturing her in his mind. He realized that he had to believe. Faith was all he had, faith that had not served him well in the past. Talking to Georgiana had brought it all back to him; he was terrified of losing Elizabeth at the moment when he drew closer to her, just as he had lost his parents. Was his life destined to follow the same script again and again?
It was almost too much to face, and he took refuge in Elizabeth’s song. Tenderly, he recalled the night he first heard it: the night she gave him her love. Oh, he believed she had loved him that first time, before the VMAs, but she wasn’t aware of it then. At Pemberley, she knew. She knew exactly how she felt about him and she offered herself to him completely.
He felt warmed by the memory, and a sudden realization dawned on him: no matter what happened, the situation with Elizabeth was different from his parents. Richard and Georgiana had hinted at it, but only at that moment did he see it clearly.
He would never lose Elizabeth as he lost his parents. His parents never freely gave their love. He always had to win it, to earn their approval. His mother had never focused on him until his child prodigy status deemed him worthy, and his father had only accepted him as a replacement for his mother.
Darcy had been so hurt by this he had lived his life trying to still win their approval, long past their deaths. His parents were his reason to push himself so hard, trying to be an industrial leader and a classical musician, as well as the driving force behind Slurry. They were the reason he never gave himself permission to make a mistake.
Elizabeth, on the other hand, didn’t care about that. She never required him to be something he wasn’t. She had offered her song and her love to him not because of what he did but because she knew who he was and she loved him. Him! Not some figure and not some achievement. She had seen the most awful he could be and still she loved him.
Suddenly everything was so clear. He felt like he had a new freedom he had never known before. Elizabeth proved that he was worthy of being loved, and even if his worst fears came to pass, and he never saw her again, nothing would ever take that away.
He couldn’t express it yet, not even to Elizabeth, but he had turned a corner somehow. The power his grief had over him was gone. He now knew he didn’t have to prove himself to his parents, or to anyone, anymore.
It was after six in the morning when the soft rumble of the elevator motor drew Darcy out of his thoughts. As he walked toward it, Richard and Charlotte, Jane and Charles, and Caroline and Faust exited from their rooms.
“Hey, Darcy, I’ve got some bad news,” Rebecca announced as the elevator doors opened and she walked out with an armful of newspapers.
“Rebecca?” Darcy said in a puzzled voice. “What are you talking about?”
“This,” she sighed, holding up the New York Post. On the front page of the tabloid was Elizabeth’s mug shot with the headline: Slurry’s Bad Girl.
“Fuck,” Darcy swore and his band mates echoed him.
“The media knows you and Lizzy are an item, too,” Rebecca continued. She walked into the loft and deposited the pile of newspapers on the bar.
Darcy picked up one and was grieved to read about Fitzwilliam Darcy and Black Lizzy: A Match Made in Hell! Pictures of Darcy and Elizabeth were everywhere. He was not surprised to see one from the night Jane was injured, with Darcy tenderly kissing Elizabeth’s head in the elevator. He went through them all, reading the tacky headlines. (Do Jailbirds Sing?) When he finished, he looked up to see the others watching him and waiting for instructions.
Darcy might have been feeling released from his obligations to his parents, but he gladly took responsibility for Elizabeth. “Where’s Tommy?” he asked, his voice soft yet commanding.
“In the lobby,” Rebecca answered quickly. “I felt it would be a good idea for the doorman to have some back up.”
“Good. Here’s what we are going to do. Our first priority is to get Elizabeth back. Rebecca, get some extra people ready. I want you to pick her up when Linda calls. Rachel?”
“Yes, Will?”
“I want you managing the phone. We are not giving out interviews or making comments.” He turned to the others. “What about tonight?”
Caroline looked around. “If we are going to cancel, we better do it soon.”
“Will,” Charles said, “this affects you the most. You have to make the call for Slurry.” Charles’s hands rested protectively on Jane’s arms.
Darcy took a deep breath and thought. “At this point, I say we go, but I won’t confirm anything until Lizzy’s free.” He looked at Jane and Charlotte sympathetically. “What do you want to do?”
Jane looked miserably at Charlotte. “I don’t know,” she whispered, clearly hurt by what she had read. “I can’t believe they said this about Lizzy. None of it is true.”
“We know, angel, we know,” Charles comforted her.
“Jane, why don’t we plan on LBS not performing tonight?” Darcy said. “We don’t know how tired Lizzy is going to be and we can always change our minds if things go better than expected.”
Jane nodded from Charles’s embrace. Darcy looked to Charlotte, who was glaring at the newspapers and smoking with trembling hands. “Char?”
Charlotte nodded and turned away, pressing her forehead against Richard’s chest.
“Okay, let’s do it then.” The group moved into action, Caroline, Rebecca, and Rachel handling the phones, Faust moving the offensive newspapers away while Charles and Richard comforted their lovers and Darcy made coffee and tea for everyone.
It was almost 8:00 a.m. when Linda returned to Elizabeth. She entered the tiny room grinning and carrying a Starbucks bag. “How is the hero today?”
Elizabeth did not share Linda’s cheerfulness. She simply wanted to be out of there. “Badly in need of a shower, thanks.”
“Here, coffee will make a new woman out of you.” Elizabeth gladly accepted the cup. “I had some interesting phone calls,” Linda continued.
“From whom?”
“Deputy DA Rodgers and I had a nice little chat.”
“Oh?” The coffee was helping and Elizabeth looked at her with new alertness.
“Yes, he’s not a happy camper to let you go. He thought he had a nice, high-profile drug bust all nailed up tight.”
Elizabeth shrugged. “So sorry to disappoint him.”
“He’ll get over it.” She paused a moment. Her voice had lost all its light tone when she spoke again. “Lizzy, you need to know; this has become very high profile. It’s a slow news day, so you and Will are on the front page.”
Elizabeth received this news without visible reaction. “Have you spoken to Will?” Her voice was soft, yet firm.
“Oh yeah.” She laughed. “I asked him what we were going to do once you were released and he said, quote: ‘This is her home. My limo and my security will pick her up and bring her here,’ unquote.”
Elizabeth smiled brightly, covering her face with one hand, and then a second, as she fought to keep control over her emotions. She was exhausted and overwrought and just needed to hold it together a little while longer.
Linda pretended not to notice. When Elizabeth dropped her hands and surreptitiously wiped her eyes with a napkin, she asked, “I take it you have heard that before?”
“Oh yeah,” she smiled and nodded, remembering. “So, what is the plan for this morning? Do I have to go to the courthouse?”
“Yep. We get to drive over, lots of flashing lights and whatnot, and then you get to leave, no doubt in a big media blitz.”
“I wish I could call Will and get his advice on how to handle this. He’s much better at playing the bad boy than I am.”
“Well, what did he tell you before?”
“He said to hang tough.”
“Then do it. You have been falsely accused. Let it show.”
Elizabeth nodded thoughtfully. “Yep, I guess I better get used to this. It’s not like we’ll ever have a life without the media.”
“Ah, the price of fame,” Linda sighed.
Elizabeth smiled. “When will I know that they have Wickham?”
“Paul is going to call me and I’ll call you.”
“Paul?”
Linda giggled. “Agent Holmes.”
Elizabeth rolled her eyes and sipped her coffee. She was grateful for the chance to think about something other than what she would tell Darcy and how he would take it.
In the end, it was easier than Elizabeth ever expected. Transported to the courthouse in a police car, she was spared a media gauntlet by entering the courthouse through an underground garage. Linda was waiting when she arrived. They were escorted into a small room and waited there for twenty minutes before being informed that they could leave. The Feds wanted a certain amount of media attention, so they asked Elizabeth to go out through the front when she left.
There was a knock on the door and Rebecca entered. Elizabeth was flooded with relief at the sight of her face. “Oh my God. It’s so good to see you.”
Rebecca dropped her professional scowl for a moment and smiled. “Are you ready to go?” she asked warmly.
“Oh yeah. More than ready.”
“Good. There is a gang of photographers out there, so I’ve got two of my people to help with security. Linda, you’ll walk with us to the limo, right?”
Linda nodded.
“I don’t know why they wouldn’t let us use the underground lot. It would be so much easier,” Rebecca complained.
Elizabeth feigned ignorance, and the three women exited the room. Waiting outside were two large burly-looking men, reeking of bodyguard. Rebecca took point and whipped out her cell. “Tommy, we’re coming out.”
Elizabeth walked with Linda, a bodyguard on either side. She felt like she was playacting. Surely there had to be a mistake. Famous people got this kind of treatment, not her. She was just… somebody?
Rebecca parted the crowd like Moses at the Red Sea. Elizabeth wore the dark sunglasses Linda gave her and tried to keep her expression calm. She focused on simply walking, knowing the last thing she wanted to do was trip and fall on the courthouse steps.
On the street, the long black limousine was waiting. Tommy opened the door and Elizabeth slid in, followed by Rebecca and one of the bodyguards.
Elizabeth was surprised to find the limo wasn’t empty. Sitting silently in the far corner, dressed in dark clothing, was the tall figure of a man. “Will!” she cried.
As soon as the door was shut, there was a quick rearranging of seats and Elizabeth found herself ensconced in his arms. “Will? Will?” she repeated, touching him to be certain he was real.
Darcy’s face held an expression of heartfelt relief as he held her close. “It’s okay, it’s all right,” he murmured softly to her. “How are you?” he asked as the car moved forward, his eyes carefully examining her.
Elizabeth felt all her hard-won control dissolve, and tears slipped from her eyes. “I’m okay,” she choked out before her face bunched up and she began sobbing in his arms.
Darcy held her tight, stroking her hair and back and hating himself. Every tear, sob, and gasp was his fault. Elizabeth’s sobs subsided by the time they reached Manhattan, and she sat in a daze for the rest of the ride to the Village, her head pillowed by his chest, his heartbeat reassuring in her ear.
The limo drove past the reporters and straight into the garage. Rebecca and the bodyguards exited first and then gave the signal for Darcy and Elizabeth to exit. They walked smartly as a group to the elevator and when the door shut, Elizabeth felt as if she was going to drop to the floor. Darcy squeezed her hand tightly, his eyes never leaving hers, giving her his strength.
They entered the loft to find everyone waiting for them. Jane quickly snatched Elizabeth up into a hug, and she was passed like a hot potato to everyone there, receiving hugs and words of encouragement.
“Thank you,” Elizabeth said, smiling through teary eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m just really tired.” A soft murmur of understanding passed through the group.
“Elizabeth needs to rest,” Darcy announced. “I think it would be best if everyone went home now, and we’ll meet later. Caro, when do we need to be at the Garden?”
“Well, we,” she indicated Faust and herself, “have to be there around noon, but you artists,” she smiled at the word, “can lounge about until four or five.”
Darcy nodded. “Rebecca, help everyone get out. Rachel, I’d like you to stick around in case I need you.”
With that, everyone began to depart, each giving Elizabeth at least one more hug. Elizabeth fled as quickly as she could to Darcy’s bedroom, and she wasn’t surprised to see him enter a minute later.
“I thought you would be in the shower already,” he said lightly.
Elizabeth smiled weakly and then her expression drooped. “Will, I have to tell you something.”
Darcy felt himself go numb. He was certain that this was it. The experience had been too much and Elizabeth was going to break up with him now. He sat carefully on the bed, close, but not touching her. “What?”
Elizabeth sighed. “The charges against me have been dropped.”
Darcy eyes widened. “Already? Lizzy, that’s great news!”
Elizabeth held up her hand. “Wait, there’s more.” Slowly she told him the whole story, her hands moving restlessly in her lap the whole time.
Darcy listened without interrupting until she was finished. “You were never in jail?” he asked weakly, trying to understand.
“No,” Elizabeth shook her head and smiled sadly. “I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you, Will. I wanted to. I wanted to so badly.” She drew up her knees and wrapped her arms around them, resting her head there.
Darcy struggled to understand what had happened. He laced his fingers together and touched his index fingers to his lips. “I didn’t sleep at all last night, I was so worried about you.”
“That makes two of us,” Elizabeth replied gently. “I know you blame yourself for what has happened, but I need you to know that I don’t. Wickham’s actions are his own, and I don’t feel anything but love for you. I’m sorry you were so scared last night, and believe me, if there had been another way, I would have taken it, but I had to do it. I love you too much to not do everything I can to get that bastard out of your life.”
Darcy roughly pulled her to him and held her as tightly as he could. “Elizabeth, you’re so brave. I can’t believe you did that for me,” he whispered.
“Well, I did it for me too,” she added. “I can’t believe he tried to frame me like that.”
They rocked together, comforting and soothing each other, until Darcy pulled back and gently cupping her face in his hands, he kissed her lips with soft, loving kisses. “Are you ready to get cleaned up?”
Elizabeth nodded tiredly and let him help her off the bed and lead her to the bathroom.
There he gently undressed her, then himself, and turned on the shower. Elizabeth stood numbly still, letting him care for her.
“Will,” she whispered when he brought her under the hot water.
“Shhh, it’s all over now, Elizabeth,” he told her firmly as he gently began washing her body. “Just try to forget about it for now.”
Elizabeth let him wash her all over. By the time he was finished, she was trembling. He drew her close and let her weep, giving her the primal comfort of skin against skin. Finally she lifted her drained eyes to him.
“I’ve got you now; you’re safe.”
Elizabeth lifted her trembling lips to his and kissed him deeply, desperate for the succor she found in his mouth. They kissed until their exhausted bodies could take no more, then Darcy gently dried her off and led her to the darkened bedroom. There they snuggled together under the coverlet, the sheets cool against their tired skin.
Elizabeth was uniquely comforted by finally being in the place that she had needed for so long. Her mind wandered freely as her body sank heavily into the soft mattress. She realized something and giggled softly. “So, Char and Richard?”
Darcy’s voice was warmed with relief. His heart was lightened to hear her sounding something like her old self again. “I don’t know exactly what happened, but they talked.”
Elizabeth laughed. “Knowing them, I can guess what happened.” Darcy laughed softly with her, and they relaxed in the comfort and familiarity of the moment. Elizabeth wanted to ask him about playing her song, but she drifted to sleep before she could, exhaustion finally overcoming her.
Elizabeth awoke disoriented. The cause was immediately clear: she was alone. If Darcy had been there, she would have known exactly where she was, but he was missing, so it took a minute for her brain to piece her location together. She sat up and saw by the clock on the bedside table (the same one that had awoken her for that flight a lifetime ago) that it was 7:19 p.m. She puzzled at Darcy’s absence until she saw a note and a cell phone on his pillow.
Opening the note, she read:
My dearest, loveliest Elizabeth,
Call me.
Your Fitzwilliam
Elizabeth hit the button that was programmed with Darcy’s number and waited for him to answer, her lips curling into a smile.
“Lizzy?”
“Hi.”
“Hang on a moment.” She could hear him moving. His voice was relaxed, warm, and touchable. “I had to get away from the meet-and-greet. How are you, Sleeping Beauty?”
Elizabeth smiled. “Missing my prince.”
“Well, I tried kissing you back to life, but you just rolled over.”
Elizabeth laughed.
“I’d like for you to come down for the show. I understand if you are too wiped out to perform, but I want you here.”
Elizabeth was touched by the earnestness in his voice. “Then I’ll be there.”
She could hear him smile. “Great. Rachel is there and I’ll send Tommy up with the limo. They have instructions.”
Elizabeth suddenly had the sensation that he was planning something and her stomach tightened in anticipation. “I’ll see you soon.”
“I love you.”
“I love you.”
She hung up and found a robe draped across the bottom of the bed, clearly for her. He had planned for her, just like he always would. For once she found this didn’t offend her; instead, she was touched by his thoughtfulness and love. She realized that the two biggest control freaks she knew had accepted, with surprising ease, letting someone else have control. Smiling to herself, she put the robe on, opened the door, and called out to Rachel, “So, what would you suggest I wear?”