Page 97 of A Searing Acquaintance
The sounds of Central Park nineteen floors below greeted Elizabeth when she woke up alone on Wednesday with only the vague, blurry memory of a hurried goodbye kiss as her man raced off to catch a flight to Boston. She curled up with Yogi and thought back on the last ten days.Secure in our cocoon of happiness.
“You are one lucky kitty,” she whispered to Yogi. “You live with such a good man.” Flat on his back, paws akimbo, the cat purred away and awaited another belly rub. Elizabeth took that for tacit agreement, gave him a final pat, and wandered into the kitchen for coffee. She had a later start today, shadowing Philips/Hill’s in-store display department as they visited key bookstores in Manhattan and Brooklyn. She took the time to look over the family photos in the apartment. As at Pemberley, the Darcy family was pictured across the decades: weddings, christenings, birthdays, family gatherings, and formal poses. Fitzwilliam, the only survivor, was frozen in time. No graduation photos, no pictures of his college years or his travels or of him with the rest of his extended family sat on the shelves or hung on the wall.This has to change. She would change it with him.
Rich was kind and funny when they met up. He leaned in, kissed her cheek, and warned Elizabeth that she’d better down at least one cocktail before heading through the Fitzwilliam family gauntlet. “Your boyfriend isn’t known for his social skills or for sharing his imaginary girlfriends with the family.”
After duly noting Darcy’s glare, he clarified, “He’s a solitary creature who’s rarely dated, and my mother has spent years trying to findhim the perfect woman. She’s a bit of a control freak, and after marrying off my brothers, she’s lost control of the process.”
Darcy just smiled. “Actually, Aunt Patricia has lost control ofhim. Rich is irredeemable. She’s never had a say in my social life.” He put his arm around Elizabeth’s waist and pulled her close.
Rich stared—half-amused, half-stunned—at the couple and swallowed his next joke. Briefly. He raised his glass in a toast to their happiness and to his own relief. “Being Darcy’s wingman has been simply exhausting.” He winked at Elizabeth.
When Darcy excused himself to take a much-delayed call from Shanghai, Rich moved his chair closer to Elizabeth. “I know he’ll never make you a Yankees fan, Elizabeth, but I hope he’s making you as happy as you’re making him.”
She smiled at his sentiment. “Nothing to worry about there, Rich. We’re both very happy. I promise not to break his heart nor steal your seats.”
“Good. He’s as complicated as they come. He deserves some happiness.”
Elizabeth took a last sip of wine and met his stare. “He does.” She leaned closer to Rich. “You know, you hide that big heart a little too well.”
“Runs in the family, don’t you think?” He picked up his glass and tapped hers with it. “But we’re good at sharing too, so we’ll go halvsies on the seats, my dear.”
The gauntlet was less frightening with a glass of wine to fortify her and two handsome, teasing men at her side. When the apartment door opened, Michael Fitzwilliam greeted the trio warmly. “Hello, son; hello, nephew. And this must be the enchanting Elizabeth Bennet!” The twinkly-eyed man took her hand and flashed a grin. “As usual, Richard’s underutilized vocabulary didn’t do you credit.”
Elizabeth smiled at the joke. It was obvious where Rich had gotten his red hair, jovial disposition, and subversive wit.
Patricia Fitzwilliam appeared at her husband’s elbow. “Oh, darling, you and Richie are afflicted with the same verbal deficit. Try to use bigger words. Miss Bennet is awriter.” She extended a tanned arm, bedecked with heavy gold bracelets, while her eyes swept Elizabeth. “Charmed to meet you, dear. Lovely dress.”
Elizabeth smiled, politely gripped the woman’s hand, and thanked her. Before she could say more, Aunt Patricia had moved on to her nephew. Elizabeth watched her kiss Darcy’s cheek and eye him carefully.
“Why, I believe you look even thinner than you did in the spring! Elizabeth,” she said, turning to face the wide-eyed young woman, “you must feed this boy.”
Darcy shook his head. “I’m perfectly well. Worked and traveled too much for a while. But I’m not going hungry.” He looked at Elizabeth with a small smile.
“Yes, in fact I believe you’ve emptied the larder,” she replied cheekily. “The cupboards are devoid of cheese, crackers, bread, deli, all manner of fruits and vegetables…”
His eyes alight, Darcy squeezed her hand and smiled. “I haven’t been eating alone, you know.”
Patricia’s eyes moved between the two of them. “Well,” she commented dryly, “I suppose Mrs. Reynolds needs to pay more attention to her duties.”
“Oh, no. He’s cleaned me out too.”
“Yourhousekeeper, then.”
Elizabeth bit her lip and glanced away.
“Elizabeth has been busy,” Darcy said in a formal voice, “what with her book coming out next week.”
“Oh, Patricia, let the poor girl come in here and get a drink,” her husband said abruptly.
The young couple followed the Fitzwilliams into a large, high-ceiling room, where the rest of Darcy’s New York-based family sat. Elizabeth noticed Catherine De Bourgh perched in a high-backed chair, watching Annabella whisper to a thin man dressed for February weather. She had an unfortunately timed flashback toThe Addams Familyand resisted the urge to hum the theme song and snap her fingers.
Rich sauntered into the room and began making introductions while his father poured Elizabeth one of his infamous martinis. Darcy whispered a warning about their potency and promised he’d slip some ice cubes into her glass to dull the effect.
Elizabeth tugged his hand and pulled him over to his Aunt Catherine. She looked exhausted. “Ms. De Bourgh, it’s lovely to see you again.” The older woman glanced up at her and smiled thinly.
“And you, Miss Bennet.”
“Elizabeth. Please call me Elizabeth.” Elizabeth smiled. “May we join you?” She sat down on a huge round ottoman and canvassed Darcy’s aunt on the weather, her thoughts on the latest Broadway plays, and the Yankees’ chances in the playoffs. Rich, listening in, guffawed as he and his father entered a spirited debate on the pitching lineup. His mother listened politely with an odd look on her face. Catherine began to ask Elizabeth about her book, but she was interrupted by a loud cough.
