Page 98 of A Searing Acquaintance
“So, you’re Fizzy’s girlfriend? He’s never brought anyone to dinner before.” Elizabeth looked up.She’d never seen Annabella in decent lighting and struggled to school her expression as she took in the woman’s pinched expression and multiple piercings in her lip, nose, and eyebrows.
“Fizzy?” Elizabeth bit her lip so as not to laugh out loud. “Do you mean Will?”
It took Elizabeth a moment to comprehend the sudden silence in the room. Darcy, who had been talking with his cousin, broke the hushed atmosphere.
“Thanks, Annabella. You had to tell my girlfriend your childhood nickname for me?”
Elizabeth might have been preoccupied—she enjoyed hearing the phrase “my girlfriend” said publicly for the first time—but she still heard Patricia’s agitated whisper to her husband. “She called himWill!”Michael Fitzwilliam nodded, walked over to Elizabeth, and handed her a martini.
“Here you go, Miss Bennet.”
“Thank you, Mr. Fitzwilliam. And please call me Elizabeth.”
He smiled at her. “And you must call me Michael.” He stepped back and watched her take a sip. “Good, isn’t it? Don’t let my son disparage my bartending skills. If you want to tick him off,” he continued in an exaggerated stage whisper, “call him by his family nickname, Richie Rich. His brothers have another name for him, but it’s not fit for polite company. We’re rather fond of nicknames, and you look like a Lizzy to me.”
Rich scowled, Darcy grinned, and even Annabella smirked. Patricia announced dinner. Over a delicious five-course meal in a dining room she could best describe as “Versailles: The Sequel,” Elizabeth discovered that Annabella’s friend Arlen was a visual artist who worked with found metal objects. He was successful enough—and had a deep enough trust fund, Rich whispered—to employ twocollege students as dumpster divers to find useful garbage for his projects.
Elizabeth’s interest and gentle questioning softened Annabella’s edginess, earning her grateful looks from Darcy’s aunts. Rich and his father kept up a rapid-fire banter discussing sports and current events. Darcy chimed in occasionally and laughed quite a bit, but he spent most of the meal focused on Elizabeth.
“How did you two meet?” Patricia’s voice cut through the din. She looked expectantly at the couple, a small smile on her tanned face. Rich rolled his eyes, clearly itching to tell his own version of their sorry little tale.
Darcy looked at Elizabeth and she at him. He spoke first. “It all started with my socks.”
His aunts look puzzled, his uncle choked on a small bit of potato, and Rich raised a glass to the power of love at first sight. Elizabeth squeezed Darcy’s hand under the table as he filled his family in on their meeting at the football game the previous October.
“So you’ve been seeing each other for some time?”
Aunt Patricia is persistent, Elizabeth thought.I don’t think I’m quite what she envisioned for her nephew.“We’ve been involved for a few months.”
Darcy’s eyes warmed, and his fingers gently caressed hers.
“Just like my favorite nephew to keep a secret.” Michael speared a bite of tenderloin and looked pointedly at his son. “I’ve warned that one never to bet against Fitzwilliam at the track.”
“Pop, neither of us goes to the track. That’s you.” Rich sighed. “And I mop the squash court with your favorite nephew’s blood, sweat, and tears.”
“Richard, please, not at the table,” his mother scolded. She turned to Elizabeth. “Pardon my son. He’s been at loose ends since he turned thirty this year. Fitzwilliam, you need to spend more time with him and help civilize him.”
The two men looked at each other; they’d endured this conversation more than once before. Elizabeth looked down at her plate, eyes narrowed, feeling sorry for Rich.
When they rose from the table to have coffee in the living room, the men wandered off to Michael’s study to look at some new toy he’d ordered. Annabella pushed Arlen to follow along and then pulled Elizabeth aside. “My mother said you remind her of her sister. Aunt Annewas cool. She gave me art sets, took me to MOMA and the Tate, and bought me kiddie cocktails.”
Elizabeth’s eyes widened as she took in Annabella’s effusions. When she smiled, the tortured artist was almost pretty. “How lovely. I’ve heard such wonderful things from Will about his mom. I wish I could have met her.”
Annabella leaned in closer and whispered conspiratorially, “We never talk about it, you know—about his sister and the accident. It’s easier that way. But I can tell you the whole story. Every family has a gothic mystery, and you’d better know all the details of ours if you’re going to stick around.”
Elizabeth smiled politely. “I appreciate the offer, but your cousin has already talked to me about it. And I’d rather hear his stories fromhimif it’s all the same to you. Besides, I do plan to stick around.”
Annabella’s eyebrow twitched. Elizabeth wondered whether her long black hair ever got caught in her many piercings. “Really? Good for you.”
Elizabeth smiled. “Good for both of us. He’s a great guy.” As they strolled into the living room, Annabella confided her plans to paint Arlen.
“Not painthim,” she explained. “Paint his portrait. Oils on canvas will be a new phase for me.”
“How wonderful.”Oils on canvas instead of oozing out of a box.After asking directions to the powder room, Elizabeth excused herself. Turning into the hallway, she heard Darcy’s aunts talking quietly.
“She’s like Anne. Spirited and opinionated,” mused Patricia.
“Yes,” Catherine replied. “She seems to make Fitzwilliam happy.”
