his shoulder.
Charles smiled. Even like this, her hair messed and her face puffy from sleep, she was precious to him. “Come on, you have to catch your flight.” A low moan and frown was his only response.
Charles laughed. “Do you remember only a month ago you were the one getting up early and I had to drag you back to bed?”
Jane smiled and finally opened her eyes. “That was because I didn’t know any better. You have since educated me on why being in bed with you is the best place to be.” She kissed him softly on the lips, but when she sought to deepen the kiss, he slid away from her and got out of the bed.
“Up, Jane! You gotta go make a video.”
“No,” she pouted. “You come back.”
“No time, angel.”
Jane threw the blankets down and posed seductively. “Charles Bingley! Come back here and love me!”
Charles looked over his shoulder and smiled appreciatively. “I do love you, Jane Bingley, but I’m taking a shower.”
Jane’s face frowned in confusion. “What did you say?” she asked, rising out of the bed.
“I’m taking a shower,” he yelled out to her from the bathroom.
“No, before that! What did you call me?” she asked as she entered the bathroom.
“What? Jane Bennet.”
“No you didn’t, you said Jane Bingley!”
“Did I?”
“Yes!”
“Oh,” he chuckled. “Got you out of bed, didn’t I?”
Jane’s eyes grew huge and a look of mock fury overcame her. “You jerk!” she shouted, struggling to keep her laughter from ruining the indignation she tried to project. Charles’s laughter prompted an additional, “You bastard!”
Charles took her into his arms, and their laughter bubbled and mingled together. In the shower, Charles took the time to wash her, committing to memory every part of her beautiful, beloved body. She would only be gone for two nights, but somehow, even that short absence seemed overwhelmingly painful to him.
Two hours later found Jane holding her sister’s hand tightly as their plane took off. The plane leveled off, and Jane relaxed her grip. “Thanks, Lizzy,” she said softly.
Elizabeth smiled. “I know I’m not Charles, but I’ll do in a pinch.”
Jane’s face lit up with her “Charles smile.” Elizabeth could feel the happiness radiating from her sister. “So how is it going with tall, blond, and handsome?”
“Lizzy,” Jane breathed, “I love him so much!” She looked as if she would burst. “It’s like every fairy tale dream I ever had has come true. He’s so perfect. He loves me so much.” She looked at Elizabeth, at a loss for words. “I’m happy,” she said simply.
Elizabeth smiled back, genuinely pleased for Jane’s happiness. “I’m glad,” she said, putting her arm around Jane and squeezing her tight, “You deserve it, more than anyone else I know.”
Elizabeth sat back and listened to Jane bubble on about Charles and the things they had done together. Her own thoughts began to drift. She couldn’t help but compare Charles to Darcy, and Jane’s happiness to her own feeling of unease. She now had proof that Darcy found her attractive, and she had exposed her own desire for him. But so what?
Elizabeth was so tired of not knowing where she stood with that man. She was sick of feeling helpless and stupid about it. Everything had seemed clear that Thursday, five days ago. Kissing Darcy had been the sexiest experience of her life, and she was no blushing virgin. Her breathing grew shallow as she remembered his lips on hers, the way he held her and whispered her name. And their dinner together! She smiled inwardly at the memory of his admission that he was as celibate as she. It was a delicious little secret all her own. She had felt very close to him then; they shared so much, almost as if they were made for each other.
She wanted to wring Georgiana’s little neck for that phone call. Rationally, she tried to convince herself that the call had been a good thing. It gave them both a chance to reflect on their actions and where they were going, but truthfully, Elizabeth wanted her rationality to stuff it! No, she didn’t know very much about Darcy. She didn’t understand much about him or even if she could trust him. She really hadn’t cared at that moment. All she knew, and wanted to know, was that he was a handsome, sexy man who was a hell of a guitarist and she just wanted him to fuck her! Was that too much to ask?
Apparently it was. Darcy returned to the tour, but the warmth they shared was gone. He was the one now pulling back in this stupid game they were playing, and Elizabeth was left out in the cold, fully exposed. She felt very vulnerable and she didn’t like it one bit. She wondered if he’d reconsidered his behavior in the restaurant and had changed his mind. It seemed the most likely explanation. She found herself remembering again his words about LBS’s willingness to do anything to hang on to fame. She wondered if he had remembered those words too.
Damn it! She hated being so hung up on one stupid remark! She knew Jane would tell her she was ridiculous, and a part of her agreed. She wished she had never heard him that night. Instead, she wanted to believe what he had told her in the elevator: “They could mix very well.” She wished, and she wanted, but it didn’t help. In the end, she could judge him only by his actions, and since his return, his behavior strongly favored the previous remark over the more recent one.
He rejoined the tour the following afternoon in a foul mood. In the days that followed, he seemed distant and distracted. Elizabeth suspected that in part it was due to worry about Richard, whose behavior had taken a sharp turn for the worse. Elizabeth was not one to judge another person’s lifestyle, but even she was uncomfortable by what she had seen.
Still, Elizabeth had to admit that even if Darcy expressed an interest in sharing her affections, it’s not like they had a chance lately. Since the incident with Collins, they had been traveling and sleeping on the buses every night. They couldn’t be together then, not even Charles and Jane attempted that.
Their only chance for some privacy was the night before, and Elizabeth admitted that then she had been the one unavailable. After the show, she discovered Charlotte crying, something she had never in all their years of friendship seen before. Elizabeth didn’t need to ask what had happened; she knew it must have been something to do with Richard. Charlotte needed her that night, and Elizabeth even begged off swimming to be with her friend.
Darcy looked at her then, his dark eyes unreadable, but she thought she sensed disappointment in them. In the bright light of the morning, she wondered if that was just the imaginings of a bruised ego.
Now she found herself uncertain again. Why was this so hard? She was not normally this stupid about relationships. She envied Jane and her certainty in Charles’s affection and wished she had a similar certainty in Darcy. It would have helped her face her fears about the day. Elizabeth was careful not to show it, but privately, she was terrified of making a fool of herself at the video shoot. She knew she wasn’t alone, and she took comfort in the presence of her sister and friend, but, and she hated admitting this, she wished she had Darcy’s support. He had a unique ability to say the right thing when she was nervous or worried, and today she missed it.
Of course, this thought made her feel all the more vulnerable. That wouldn’t do. No, she was glad he wasn’t here, she decided, because she was going to do this shoot, and she was going to do it on her own. She didn’t need him, and she was going to prove it, even if it was only to herself.
While the sisters talked, Charlotte sat silently in the seat in front them. Her own thoughts were in bleak contrast to Jane’s blossoming. Richard had left her. She was certain of it now. For all his kindness and sympathy on that day when he found her with Collins, it was clear he wanted nothing more to do with her.
Oh, he had never been cruel. He always spoke to her kindly, but it wasn’t the same. The easiness of their relationship was gone. He grew silent around her. Gone were the jokes and put-downs that she enjoyed so much. He no longer even joined her for cigarette breaks.
And then there were the flavors. Her heart contracted away from that painful thought. He had changed there as well. She watched him going through a catalog of women. There were so many, she had stopped counting. He didn’t even bother with a hotel room now, doing them backstage instead. He was out of control. She
