white shirt and his leather pants. Elizabeth bit down hard on her lust and snapped, “What? You wear those all the time?”
“I was just at an appearance,” he explained.
“Do you know why I’m here?” she asked.
“I think so,” he replied, lifting an eyebrow.
“You aren’t even ashamed, are you?” she said, appalled.
“Why should I be?” he asked, suddenly uncertain.
“Oh! That just takes the cake! You ban your oldest friend from receiving awards he rightfully deserves and it doesn’t bother you in the least!”
“Lizzy, what are you talking about?” Darcy asked, confusion plain on his face.
Elizabeth rolled her eyes. “So now you’re playing stupid? Fine! I’ll tell you. I’m talking about George Wickham, who just told me you had him banned from the VMAs,” she snarled scornfully.
Darcy’s expression hardened. “That’s a lie, Elizabeth. No doubt one of many he’s told you.”
“Why would he lie to me?”
“Probably to get back at me, I suspect,” he said calmly.
“George would never do that!” she said defiantly.
Darcy looked at her carefully. “Why do you believe him?”
Elizabeth paused, speechless. The question had caught her completely unawares. She pursed her lips and replied a moment later. “Because,” she stammered, “he told me everything that happened between him and you and Georgiana.”
Darcy smiled bitterly. “No, I’m sure he didn’t tell you everything. Quite sure.” He looked at her, his expression completely open. “Elizabeth, would you please sit down with me, and allow me to tell you my side of the story?”
Elizabeth nodded, surprised, her anger blunted by his reaction. This was not what she expected. He led her down a long hallway to a huge open space surrounded by shaded windows. Elizabeth sat on the couch and waited, still tense and hostile.
Darcy sighed deeply and began in a calm voice. “I trust that once you hear what happened you will know why I have to ask you to keep it a secret.”
She watched as his face turned raw with anguish and he paused, visibly struggling to continue. Elizabeth felt confusion and pity for the pain he was attempting to master. Clearly whatever had happened had deeply affected Darcy as well. “Can I,” she stopped when he looked at her, then she blurted out, “help?”
“Maybe it would be easier if you told me what Wickham told you,” he said, somewhat gratefully.
Elizabeth spoke in a matter-of-fact way. “He told me about how he grew up with Georgiana, and they were childhood friends.” Darcy nodded. “Then he went away to college, and when he returned, he saw her differently, as a beautiful woman.” Elizabeth watched as Darcy’s jaw tightened. She licked her lips and continued. “He told me how he fell in love with her, and she with him, until you found them out and forced them to break up.” Her tone and her expression turned hard. “Now, tell me that was a lie.”
Darcy had been pacing, listening carefully to her words. “It’s not,” he said shortly. “Nothing of it was a lie. I can see why you believed him.”
Elizabeth was dumbstruck. “And you admit to this? To forcing them apart? To breaking their hearts?”
Darcy looked down for a long time. Then he lifted his eyes to her and said, “Excuse me, I need to get something.” He disappeared into a side room and returned a moment later, sitting this time beside her on the couch. In his hand was a white folder with the words “Choate Rosemary Hall” printed in gold letters on it.
“It’s all true what he told you, Elizabeth, but he left out one very important detail. From the way you tell the story, I do look like a monster. I can see that, but, well—” He sighed and turned to the folder. “Last Saturday, I was at Georgiana’s graduation. Her
He opened the folder and passed it to her. In it was a large picture of a girl in cap and gown, standing next to Darcy, smiling with pride. The program in the folder was opened to the list of graduates, and the name Georgiana Helen Darcy was circled in black ink. Elizabeth noted absently that she had been an honor student. A cold, confused, surreal feeling came over Elizabeth as she looked at the words written there and the date, only a week prior.
Darcy spoke softly, his voice far away. “It started when George and I were in college together. At first, I ignored it. It wasn’t unusual for freshmen to be dating high school girls, but he never stopped, even as he got older. By the time he was a senior, I was aware there was something strange going on, but he was careful to hide it. He would never bring his dates to any place I might be.
“Then we started the band. At first, we only played for ourselves, but George really pushed us to perform in public and he even set up the first shows for us. It was summer, and it was hard to tell how old the girls he was hanging around with were. Truthfully, I was too busy working on our songs to even notice.
“Then that spring, he started to slip. Richard and I were starting to notice we had a surprising number of high-school-aged girls as fans, but we just figured it was the music. We caught George with these girls once or twice, but he always claimed he didn’t know, or that they had told him they were in college.”
His voice grew softer as Elizabeth looked at him, horror building on her features. “Then that tour came. I made the decision to take Georgie with us because I missed her, frankly. She was at school all spring and I wanted her around. I had no idea…” His voice faded, then with effort, he began again. “It was the Fourth of July, at the Ramsgate festival.” Darcy looked up into Elizabeth’s eyes, and she knew he had never told this to anyone before. “And I walked into George’s dressing room and found him on top of my
Elizabeth’s hands were trembling as she moved them over her mouth. “Oh God,” she cried so quietly no one could have heard. A memory slammed into her head, of her lying on the couch on Darcy’s bus and listening to Caro discuss Georgie going to college.
She stood up, knowing she was going to be sick. Darcy looked at her, puzzled, until she squeaked out, “Bathroom?”
He took her arm and half-led/half-dragged her down the hall and through a door. Elizabeth fell to her knees and emptied the contents of her stomach into the toilet. Only when she finished did she realize that Darcy was still there. He silently filled a glass of water and knelt down to give it to her.
Elizabeth took it, her hand still shaking. She took a sip and spit it out, and then with Darcy’s help, she gingerly stood. He helped her to the sink, where she washed her mouth out, and he gave her a damp washcloth.
“Did you sleep with him?” he asked finally.
“No,” Elizabeth breathed, “no, thank God.” Realization hit her; she was mortified by her actions and needed to escape. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” she said brokenly. “I’ll leave now.”
She turned to the door, but Darcy caught her. “Elizabeth, you can barely stand,” he said with a gentle smile. “I’m not letting you leave yet.”
He gently led her back out to the bar that looked into the kitchen. “Sit,” he told her as he pulled out a stool.
Elizabeth put her elbows on the bar and her head in her hands. “How could I have been so stupid?” she whispered to herself.
Darcy was moving around the kitchen and served Elizabeth a glass of juice. “Drink that, slowly.”
Elizabeth didn’t want to drink anything, but she was so shaky she took a sip. Darcy came back around to her and lightly rubbed her back as he sat beside her. “Don’t blame yourself, Elizabeth. George is a master of deception. I know. I’ve been the victim of it more times than I can count.”
“I shouldn’t have been so gullible,” Elizabeth chastised herself. She looked at Darcy and remembered how she had come here to defend Wickham, and a fresh horror dawned on her. “Oh my God! You must hate me!”
Darcy shook his head, his eyes on hers. “I could never hate you, Lizzy, never. You have every right to be angry with me. I should’ve told you right away about Wickham.”
“No,” Elizabeth said, putting her hand on his arm, “I understand why you couldn’t.” She felt tears forming in her eyes. “No one else knows?”
Darcy shook his head. “Only Richard, my attorney, and Georgie’s counselor.”
“So what happened?”
