Page 44 of A Certain Appeal
“First,” he begins. “Let’s see the nails.”
I extend my hand with a flourish, and he makes a show of inspecting the bright red polish. I got them done over lunch anyway.
“Excellent work. Your cuticles look exquisite.” He gives my fingers a little squeeze. He changed his pants, the red chinos switched out for a teal pair.Lord.Does the guy not know about jeans?
I open the drink menu. “You’ve completed your first act of contrition, making the pilgrimage to the BK. I’ll consider that a sacrifice of time. Are you prepared to sacrifice your financial stability?”
“If that’s what it takes to regain your favor, Your Holiness.”
“What did I say about groveling?”
The bartender takes my order and Wickham requests another Manhattan, finishing off the one he’s been holding. Facing me, his lighthearted demeanor is gone. “What do you know about Pemberley?”
I watch him, unsure what to make of the sudden one-eighty. “More now than I did when I booked it. It turns out that the owner is buddies with my roommate’s boyfriend. Will Darcy,” I explain, enjoying the flutter I get at the name. “He inherited it and isn’t sure what to do with it, so he’s renting it out for events for now.”
Wickham nods, expression dimming further.
I lose a little elevation. “What’s this history of yours?”
The bartender hands us our drinks. I raise my glass for a toast, but Wickham’s already taking a long pull from his Manhattan. He returns his drink to the bar with a loud clank of glass and shifting ice and asks, “How well do you know Will?”
“Not very.” Though that’s not quite true. I know he carries ahanky, what he studied in school, and that he went out of his way to hook that waiter up with an internship. If Charles is any indication, he cares a lot about the people he’s close to, and while he can be snooty—and confounding—as hell, that eye contact of his is staggering.
I just can’t figure the guy out. I’m still floored by Saturday’s shift in personality, how friendly he was with the staff and the positive things he said about my input. But as tingle-inducing as all that is, it’s the simple act of his apologizing I keep lingering on. He listened—really listened—when I explained what burlesque means to me.
Wickham nods, forehead creased. “That property, Pemberley? It’s supposed to be mine.”
Eh? “Yours?” I almost laugh. “How? He said it’s been in his family for ages.”
“When his father passed, I was supposed to receive it.”
My eyebrows jump to my hairline.
“Will and I were close when we were younger. My dad worked for his father. And after my dad left, I was more or less absorbed into the Darcy clan.”
I blink, thrown by the randomness of the connection. I really should have looked up those chaos gods. “How... generous?”
“Will never let me forget that I didn’t really belong. His dad was the generous one. Even helped me with school.” His dry chuckle is devoid of humor. “If Will ever knew, I’m sure he’d have been furious—the guy’s tighter with his money than anyone I’ve ever known.”
I nod, though this is contrary to my experience. I’d hardly say dropping forty bones on novelty playing cards and the most generous tip I’ve ever received is indicative of miserly living. Plus, he offered to call a car after Jane’s accident. Not a cab or a Lyft, but acar.
“I’m sure he’d say I was taking advantage,” Wickham continues, swirling his drink. His shoulders are slumped, his posture a portrait of disappointment. “He chose to go to school in California, and his dad’s health took a turn for the worse. I was going to NYU, so it wasn’t any trouble for me to check on him. At least at first. As his health declined, it took more and more of my time, and I eventually put school on hold.
“Will barely came around,” he says, voice distant. “Even after I left NYU. It was my choice; the senior Darcy was adamant I not sacrifice my studies... What was it he’d say? Something like, ‘Don’t fret away your youth on an old bastard like me. Get out there and live!’ But I couldn’t abandon him. It wouldn’t have been right.”
I continue to nod, still trying to get my bearings.
“Pemberley was his favorite property. He knew Will lacked the imagination to do anything, too. I’d tell him about the ideas I had, and one day, he said, ‘Screw it. Pemberley is yours.’ Said he’d have the paperwork drawn up and it would go to me. I told him he was crazy, that it was too much, but Will was already getting everything else, and the senior Darcy was insistent.
“Then he passed...” He sighs, shaking his head. “Nothing. Will claimed no changes had been made to the will. I was devastated.”
Wickham looks at me expectantly. I’m unsure what to say. It’s all too dramatic, like I’ve been pulled into some epic feud.Is this how I sounded when I talked about my internship?
I straighten. “This is what you meant the last time we went out. This is your fall.”
He gives me a wan smile, raising his palms my way. “No scars, but, yeah. Darcy tossed me a few grand to keep me from tarnishing his name. I should have used it to get a lawyer, but I was so broken downby losing that property, I had to get out of here. That’s how I ended up in California. It’s been the better part of a decade but”—another sigh—“it still kills.”
“That’s... really messed up?” It comes out as more of a question than a statement. Can all this be true? It certainly fits more comfortably with the pompous Darcy that first night at Meryton, rather than the amiable, human Pemberley Darcy. The disappointment is stunning.
