Page 70 of A Searing Acquaintance
“Is this Charles? I’d recognize that surfer hair anywhere,” Sylvia enthused in an uneven Southern twang. “Oh, look what a pair you two make. Your babies will be cherubs!”
Darcy managed another step back before Sylvia caught sight of him. “Oh my Lord!” She fanned herself dramatically. “Look at you, all tall, dark, and handsome. You trulyarethe best man. Are you with Lizzy? If you’re not, you can be with me.” She reached out and grabbed his arm.
Glancing away, Elizabeth saw Caroline’s horrified, mocking expression. She cringed when she caught sight of Darcy’s mortified face. She’d seen him trying to move away from her mother and saw how disgusted he was by it all. And this time she couldn’t blame him.
Suddenly Maddie and Joe appeared and hustled Sylvia off to a corner table for a quieter, alcohol-free reunion. Ted and Barbara packed up their annoyed, protesting daughters for the drive back to Queens. And Elizabeth watched Caroline pull a still shell-shocked Darcy onto the dance floor.
Kill me now.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Three days after making a short but admirable toast to his best friend and his fiancée, the most lasting memory Darcy had of the celebratory event was the shattered look of horror on Elizabeth’s face as her mother flirted with him and teased her younger daughter.
He’d hardly seen her afterward. Sylvia’s appearance seemed to have sucked the air out of the festivities. Many of the guests, including the Kowalski-Bennets, had left soon after her arrival. Jane and Elizabeth had corralled their mother far away from the stage, and Charles, ever the white knight, positioned himself at a table with Sylvia, listening to tales of Dolly Parton’s Dixie Stampede while squeezing in questions about Jane’s childhood. As for himself, he’d pulled away from Caroline, headed to the bar, ordered a Scotch and soda, and fallen into conversation with the Gardiners, who were keeping a worried eye on their nieces.
Maddie had apologized to Darcy for telling tales but said it saddened her that he and Charles kept seeing the worst of the Bennet family. “Joe was barely a teenager when Sylvia married Ted, and he was away at college when she took off and left Ted and the girls. They were so young. Despite their parents’ eccentricities and self-absorption, Jane and Lizzy are wonderful people. I’m so happy for Jane. Charles is a fine man.”
Darcy had smiled. “He’s even finer with Jane’s influence.”
“And love,” Joe had added, reaching for his wife’s hand andthreading his fingers through hers. “Being loved by the right woman makes every man better.”
Now, staring out his office window on a hazy, overcast Tuesday afternoon, Darcy wondered whether the right man could make every woman better too. Then the door burst open, and all of his restless speculation blew to hell.
“Aunt Catherine? I wasn’t expecting you.” He stumbled to his feet.Where the hell is Sara?
“Fitzwilliam, we must talk. Now.”
The Chanel-clad woman closed the door and strode right up to the edge of his desk. “An attorney came to my home this morning,” she said in a low, angry voice. “He came to my home and insulted the memory of my dear sister. Of yourmother. He asked if I knew anything about Anne’s relationship with a landscaper named Jerome Wickham. This…thisgardener’sson is in serious trouble, and they need additional evidence to indict him.” Catherine leaned closer, shaking and distraught. “You told this lawyer thatyour motherhad an affair with Wickham’s father? That she committed adultery?”
She put a hand to her forehead. “Fitzwilliam, what were you thinking?”
Darcy led his aunt to a chair, taking the one beside her and grasping her hand. “She did,” he said quietly. “Briefly and regrettably. My father never knew.Inever knew until after…after everything else.” He felt her grip tighten on his hands.
“Wickham’s son knew,” he continued in a low, rough voice. “He had some letters and pictures.”
Catherine gasped.
“He threatened to go to the papers when Dad was sick, and I paid him not to. But he came back again, and he will keep doing so unless I take legal action.”
“What a horrid man.”
Darcy stared at a painting across the room, a muted seascape that he usually found calming, and took a deep breath. “Wickham’s crimes have escalated. He was arrested for funneling performance-enhancing drugs—HGH, steroids, and the like—to athletes. Cocaine, too. The authorities suspect he’s a partner in a lab operation. Proof that he’s an extortionist as well will help strengthen their case against him.”
“But Fitzwilliam, why does this…thisstoryabout your mother have to come out?” Catherine asked wearily. “Why now?”
He leaned closer to his usually imposing aunt. She seemed smaller,more vulnerable than he’d ever seen her. “It’s all so long ago that no one will care, not here in America. And the British press won’t get wind of it.”
“But why?” She pulled her hand from his and crossed her arms. “Why would you come forward now?”
“Because he hurt a friend. He’s lying, claiming she was an accomplice, just to get back at me, I think. And I need to help her.”
“Her? Who is this woman? Are you involved with her?” His aunt peered closely at him.
Now that he’d assuaged her worries about the press, he’d managed to throw her some fresh meat—his love life—to pick over.Brilliant.Darcy paled but his expression remained blank.
“No, she’s a friend, the sister of Charles Bingley’s fiancée,” he replied evenly. “She didn’t know Wickham was such a lowlife, and she worked with him, and he put her career in peril. She’s a nice girl. I owe her this.”
“A nice girl.” Catherine stared at him. Her pale blue eyes glistened with unshed tears.
