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Part 10 Posted on Wednesday, 30 December 1998
John slammed the phone down, wishing Charlotte was standing in front of him so he could wring her neck. That was her fourth call to him in two hours. It wasn't like this was Victorian England, or even Mr. Lucas' native Italy, for God's sake. This was America, and no one needed to worry so much about their parents' opinion, not even Charlotte.
"I just want them to love you as much as I do," Charlotte had said.
"I'm sure they will," he'd replied.
"You have to understand. My father still holds deep Italian values. He may have changed Lucca to Lucas, married an American woman and given his children British-sounding names, but he's still the protective father of four daughters."
John still didn't see the problem. He was in his early thirties, handsome, successful, wealthy. What father wouldn't want that for his daughter? Or if the man were sentimental and wanted love, well, Charlotte loved him. That should be enough.
"You don't think I'm lovable to parents?" he mocked, trying to keep it light.
"I didn't mean that. It's just that sometimes you are a little distant with people you don't know."
"Can I help being reserved?"
"No, of course not. I'm just afraid my father won't like you because of it. He's outgoing and outspoken, but a little austere."
From Charlotte's description, John was beginning to picture Mr. Lucas as a cross between Don Corleone and that baker guy at the beginning of The Godfather.
As if that weren't enough, Charlotte had continued with a description of the rest of her family. Her mother sounded like a celebrity chaser. Charlotte joked, "She was so pleased when Carl was coming around, even though I'd tell her we were only friends."
"Let me guess," he said, trying not to sound snide. "She's the type who was against you skating until you finally won a medal. Then she bragged to all her friends about her famous daughter."
Charlotte had sounded hurt. "My mother has always been proud of me and my career."
John was instantly contrite. "I didn't mean that the way it sounded, Charlotte. I'm sorry." He had a feeling, though, that he'd touched a nerve.
As for her sisters, none of them sounded interesting. Mariah, the second eldest, was a school teacher; Amelia, who was called Amy, was in college, studying to be a psychologist; the youngest, Samantha, was in high school.
Even before John picked Charlotte up, he knew he was in for a dreadful evening. The minute she was in the car and already telling him what to expect, he knew it was going to be worse than he'd thought.
"If my father asks anything too embarrassing, don't let it rattle you too much," Charlotte said. "He doesn't really mean anything by it."
John grunted.
"And I'll handle my mother if she starts in about how much you make and what you do for a living."
John sighed.
"Oh...and if Samantha starts yapping about how friendly Carl and I were, ignore her. She's just jealous because he never paid her any attention. Besides, the minute she insinuates anything about Carl, Mariah jumps in and insists that we're just friends, because she likes him too."
"I wish to God I knew what Carl Denny's allure is," John grumbled. "He's short--"
"Al Pacino is Carl's height, not to mention twice his age, and you said the other day that he was probably a...'chick magnet?' Was that it?" Charlotte sighed. "Carl's got a lot of personality and charisma. It's why everyone likes him. Not to mention that he is kind of cute."
"I don't see the hook."
"Of course you don't. You're a man. Height's not important, anyway. All my sisters are either my height or shorter."
"Was there ever anything between you two?" John asked abruptly. "Everyone used to say there was."
Charlotte smiled. John hated that smile, because he knew she was thinking his question had something to do with jealousy, which it didn't. He simply wanted to know, so he could make it clear to everyone Charlotte might've seen in the past that she was taken--including and especially Carl Denny.
"No, there wasn't. We never even went on a date, for heaven's sake. We're just good friends. Neither of us wanted or needed a romantic entanglement, because that would've ruined everything. I could never picture myself with Carl, you know? Until recently, he's never been serious about anything."
"What do you mean, until recently?"
"I think Carl's in love, and the woman broke his heart. He's been kind of depressed lately."
"Why is it a man gets depressed, and automatically people assume it's because of a woman?"
"Because it usually is, dear."
John made his way, with Charlotte's help, to a two-story brick house in the suburbs. The house, like the neighborhood, was ordinary. All the houses on the street seemed to look alike, and they all cried out middle class. Just what John had managed to escape from.
Charlotte nearly had to drag him into the house, calling, "We're here!"
Even before the words were out, the sound of feet hurriedly tromping down the stairs could be heard.
"Charlotte!" A younger, prettier version of Charlotte ran into her sister's arms.
"Amelia, please. You saw me just a couple weeks ago." John could hear the satisfied note in Charlotte's voice despite her words. She was just as glad to see her sister.
Amy turned to look at him. "So this is what a skating promoter looks like," she said.
"You were expecting Satan?" he asked, bemused.
"No. Just older. Definitely older."
"I see." John smiled, liking Amy Lucas in spite of himself.
"And I thought you'd look a little more ruthless. Aren't businessmen supposed to look ruthless?"
"How does ruthless look, exactly?" John asked.
Amy smiled. "Not like you."
"That's where you're wrong, Amy. Ruthless looks exactly like John," Charlotte said, grinning. "Mamma, hello!"
John turned away from the lovely Amy to see Charlotte hugging an older, prettier version of herself.
"Mamma, this is John Thorpe. John, my mother, Deborah Lucas."
"Nice to meet you," John said politely, admiring Mrs. Lucas as he had admired her third daughter.
"Do I rate a hug and introduction, Carlotta?" The new voice in the hallway was deep, lightly accented, and definitely gruff.
John turned again--and looked up. Although the women in the Lucas family were petite, the man he was now standing before was well over six feet tall. Charlotte had tried to warn him. John wished he'd listened more intently, because he suddenly felt extremely nervous.
The giant extended a hand. "Roberto Alessandro Lucca. Or as I am called today, Bobby Lucas."
"Papa..." Charlotte groaned. "Don't intimidate him."
John looked into the man's eyes. They seemed to be challenging him. If he was intimidated, they said, he wasn't man enough to marry his daughter.
John took the man's hand in a firm handshake. "John Thorpe." The handshake began bordering on painful before the man turned him loose.
Mr. Lucas scooped his daughter into a massive bear hug, exhibiting the same enthusiasm Amy had shown. John wasn't sure he liked all this hugging. "We see so little of you, cara," he said.
"I'm a working girl," Charlotte said. "How else will I ever be able to pay you back for--"
"Carlotta, we did all we could because we loved you. We do not need or ask for anything in return. Seeing you on that podium was enough."
"But Papa, I'm making good money--"
Mr. Lucas sighed. "You should keep that money for your own family. You're going to be a married woman soon."
Despite himself, John felt some pleasure that Mr. Lucas seemed to have accepted him. It looked that way, at least.
"I'm sure that John makes money enough to take care of Charlotte," Mrs. Lucas said.
John knew his thousand-dollar suit and equally expensive shoes were being examined. John tolerated it quite well and couldn't help admiring Deborah Lucas for it. She was a sensible woman, one who knew the value of a man who could support a woman. That was what she wanted for her daughters.
"Mamma, please..."
"Don't be embarrassed, Charlotte. I just don't want to--my lasagna!" she gasped, running to the kitchen.
Mr. Lucas smiled. "My wife is sometimes absentminded in the kitchen. It's made for some unusual meals."
"Bobby! Charlotte, Mariah, Amelia, Samantha! John! Come to dinner!"
"Looks like she got there in time," Charlotte said, chuckling.
This family was positively claustrophobic. Sure, the dining room table was big enough to hold twice the number of people seated at it, but Charlotte hadn't been kidding when she'd talked of her boisterous family.
They talked about Samantha's school, then Amy's college work, then about Mariah's "kids." They talked about Charlotte for a bit. Most of the time, the bumbled into questions about John, and the questions were endless. Yet he answered them, even when Mrs. Lucas had lost some of his admiration for wanting to know details about the skaters on his tour. Charlotte, apparently, told her family very little.
And it seemed as though every ten minutes, one of her sisters managed to bring up Carl Denny. The more John heard his name, the more frustrated he became. How often had the man been around, anyway? Enough for all the Lucas girls to fall in love with him.
Still, despite his frustration, John did form a good idea of how the Lucas family worked. Charlotte was the athlete, Mariah the beauty (although John had a feeling that when fifteen-year-old Samantha finally came into her own, she'd be far more beautiful), Amy the wisecracker, and Samantha the brain. Charlotte was the only one who lacked good looks, being plainer and less fortunate. It seemed to him as though she'd been pushed into skating to give her life purpose. Charlotte, who had been the drain on family finances until her unexpected bronze three years ago, had never been expected to marry.
Now that she was marrying, the family seemed amazed yet pleased. Especially since she was marrying a handsome, successful man. Now her parents expected her to give up skating.
"You plan on having a family soon, right?" Mr. Lucas asked him.
"A family? Charlotte will be my family."
"You mean you don't have a family of your own?" Mariah asked, the concept foreign to her.
John frowned. Sure, he had family. A marijuana-smoking father and a burned-out mother. An older brother who kept getting into trouble with every job he'd ever had. A younger sister who called him every month begging for money until he'd made it quite clear he wasn't going to support her, her lazy, shiftless husband, and their rabbity, thieving children anymore. He'd pulled himself above all of them.
"No," he said. "Not anymore."
"You poor dear," Mrs. Lucas said, pity in her voice. "Well, you do have Charlotte, and you'll have us to be your family too."
Great. Just what I always wanted.
"When Papa said 'family,' he meant children," Charlotte murmured.
"Oh, children! Well, uh, we're not planning on having any...right now. Charlotte's an active skater. She has many years of quality skating left. Perhaps after her career is over..."
John looked around to see everyone staring at him in shock, including Charlotte.
"But Charlotte's almost thirty now," Mrs. Lucas said. "By the time her career is over, according to your estimate of how long her career could be, she'll be too old to have babies."
"Fifty-year-old women are having babies these days," Samantha said cheerfully. "Charlotte could wait."
"It seems silly to have her continue skating after she's married," Mrs. Lucas said.
"I can't believe I'm hearing this," Charlotte said. "I never intended to quit skating once I was married. It's too much a part of who I am."
"I've always thought that older women having children was wrong," Mr. Lucas said.
"Mamma was almost forty when Samantha was born," Amy said, winking at Charlotte.
"I meant the way they're having them, like that woman in Idaho or Iowa or wherever she was from. Seven at once! It's absurd. It's against God's plan. If God intended for a couple to have children, they should have them the natural way."
"Yet if God controls everything man does, then can you not say that He's responsible for infertile couples being able to have children when the natural way is troubled?" Charlotte retorted. "All babies are miracles, no matter how they're conceived. And for the record, I intend to have babies, in the natural way, if God allows. Just not for a couple years."
John frowned at Charlotte. They hadn't talked about this, as it hadn't come up before, but he had absolutely no interest in having children--ever.
He had a feeling that he shouldn't mention that here.
Yet he couldn't avoid the topic altogether, and although the rest of the meal and evening seemed to go off without trouble, Charlotte was waiting to spring the topic on him again on the drive back to her duplex.
"John?"
"Hmm."
"When do you want to have kids?"
John sighed, but said nothing.
"Because I thought I'd skate a couple more years, have a baby, then quit skating."
"Charlotte, how important are children? I mean, they're always a pain. They ruin their parents' normal routine. They always want something. Anyway, you have a lot of potential. You finished second at last year's World Pros. You've gained a lot of popularity. Do you really need a baby messing all that up?"
"But babies are special. Haven't you ever thought about a little boy you could play catch with in the front yard? Or a little girl you could be proud talking about when she takes her first steps?"
"Not really. Kids are more than cute little moments. They're hard and difficult and impossible."
Charlotte's chin quivered. She'd never heard this callousness before. "I realize that children are more than 'cute little moments.' They're...a part of you. And me. A symbol of our great love for each other."
Oh, brother. If she was dragging out the clichés he knew he was in trouble.
"I'll think about it," he said to pacify her.
Charlotte frowned. "It doesn't sound like you will to me."
Charlotte put in a Sarah McLachlan CD, then fed a couple of logs to the fireplace. She poured herself a glass of wine and sat in her favorite huge, comfortable chair, thinking.
John could say he'd think about having kids, but she knew him. He didn't want them. They didn't fit in with his lifestyle, and by extension of marriage, they wouldn't fit into hers. They were too much of a hassle.
It was strange. John had never told her about his family, not even that they were dead. When he'd mentioned it at supper, Charlotte had felt so much pity for him that had her mother not said it first, she would've said her family would be his after they were married.
Stranger still that he didn't want a large family, considering that he'd lost his own.
Charlotte thought of Carl. He'd lost his parents to a fire when he was nine, and then been adopted by his childless aunt and uncle. Carl had fallen in love with the Lucases on first sight.
"I'm adopting your family," he quipped to Charlotte. "Especially your dad."
Carl had liked all of her family, and they'd all liked him. He seemed to fit in so seamlessly that one could barely tell when they were together that he hadn't actually been born a part of the family. Charlotte knew that Mr. Lucas had secretly hoped either Charlotte or Mariah would marry him and actually make him part of it.
Carl had confided that he loved his adoptive parents but longed for a large family. He told her that he planned to have several children.
Charlotte compared the two men. Both had been orphaned, yet one wanted children and the other didn't. Charlotte wondered what had caused the difference.
She had no time to ponder, for the phone rang. She reached for the cordless phone sitting on the end table beside her chair. "Hello?" She figured it was John, calling to apologize.
"Hi, Charlotte." Wrong. It was Mariah.
"Oh, hi."
"That sounded good. Expecting loverboy to call?"
"Don't call him that," Charlotte snapped. But, knowing the purpose of the call, she calmed down and asked, "Well?"
"Jury's hung. Mamma liked him, Samantha thought he was okay. Amy thought he was precious. Papa didn't like him at all."
"Papa didn't like him? Papa likes everybody!"
"Not John Thorpe. He said the man was using you."
"How?"
"Well, he ranted about John worshipping money and not kids."
"We can't all be like Carl."
"Papa brought him up too. Did you notice that John looked PO'd whenever Carl's name was mentioned?"
"No."
"I did. Papa did too. He says that Carl would be a son-in-law to be proud of, one who knows his priorities."
"All this because John wants to wait to have children? I want to wait, too."
"Not as long as him, I bet."
"You don't like John, either."
"No. I think Papa's right."
"Then it looks like Amy's going to be my maid of honor," Charlotte said angrily.
"Come on, Charlotte. No matter how I feel, I'm willing to put it aside for you."
Charlotte knew that wheedling note all too well. "What do you want, Mariah?"
"I was...uh, hoping you could set me up with Carl--since you're not involved with him."
"Hell, we were never involved. We were--"
"Yeah, uh-huh. So you'll have no problem hooking us up."
"None."
"Great! Give him my number. Bye!"
Charlotte slammed down the phone, wishing Mariah was standing in front of her so she could wring her neck.
She would have no trouble getting Carl together with Mariah. Getting his mind off That Witch was second only to her wedding on Charlotte's list of priorities.
Part 11 Posted on Tuesday, 5 January 1999
Rich watched a Georgiana finished her short program. He smiled as she spun so gracefully, a smile coming to her face as she stopped skating.
Rich clapped, and Georgiana smiled even wider. "Thank you, thank you," he said, bowing. "And for my next number, I'll pull a rabbit out of my hat."
He laughed. "Where did you get that music? It sounded a little familiar."
"It's from Star Wars."
"Star Wars?" Rich tried to remember where he'd heard it in the movie.
"The Mos Eisley Cantina band. When they go to find someone to take them to Alderaan. It's playing in the background."
"I knew I'd heard it somewhere." Rich smiled again. "It's an interesting choice. Quirky. Not what we expect from Georgiana Darcy."
"I'm not a kid anymore, my brother's opinion excluded. I like branching out."
"It's good that you do."
"So you like the new number?"
"Yeah! It's great."
Georgiana beamed. "Want to see my long program? I think you'll love it."
Rich checked his watch. "You'd better not. We're going to be lucky to make the seven o'clock show."
"Oh." Georgiana's smile faded, then reappeared. "How about if we go to the late show? That way we can get something to eat. I'm starving."
"That would be all right, I suppose. But if I fall asleep during the movie, don't get mad at me. I'm a little tired."
"Don't worry. I won't let you fall asleep." Georgiana headed to a locker room to shower and get ready.
She rushed through the shower, then pulled on her outfit, chosen after hours of agonizing the night before. Georgiana had finally selected a rather snug pair of jeans and a skimpy black bodysuit. Relaxed but sexy. She didn't have to do much with her hair, except pull it back into a ponytail, which Lizzy said made her look exceptionally pretty. Makeup only needed small repair.
Georgiana looked at the end result in the mirror. She looked almost...wholesome. She pulled her hair free of the ponytail and tried to get it to style sexily. Instead, it looked like she'd been running through a tornado, she back into the ponytail it went. Seizing an inspiration, she pulled it into a loose bun with curly wisps at the nape of her neck and two long strands at each side of her face. Smiling, Georgiana knew she had found the perfect look.
She looked down at her body. She sighed. It was too bad that she had almost no chest to speak of, she thought. Helena had been model-perfect. Georgiana wished she had something more in that department, but God had made her a skater with a skater's body. She had to accept that.
Georgiana stepped out of the locker room. Rich had been waiting patiently by the door and whistled appreciatively when Georgiana stepped out.
"Careful that Fitz never sees that outfit, kiddo."
"He won't. Ready to go?" Georgiana was basking in the glow of his praise.
"Yeah." Rich pulled his keys out of his jacket pocket just as his cell phone rang. He pulled it out of the other pocket and flipped it on. "Hello?"
"Rich!" Only one word, and Rich could tell that the speaker was almost hysterical. It was Lydia.
"What's wrong?"
"M-my mother! She's screaming and raving at me! Rich, s-she's saying awful things!"
"Why is Frances upset?"
"I-I-I told her that I'd decided to quit skating for good."
"When did you make that decision?"
"I d-decided before I came home. I just want to forget skating ever existed, b-but Mom says that I'm no daughter of hers. She's threatening never to speak to me again!"
"Lydia, if Frances Bennet went through on that threat every time she made it, she'd never speak to anyone ever again. She's just upset right now."
Georgiana had been startled at the identity of the caller. Lydia?! What the hell is she doing calling Rich?
"I think she's serious this time!" Lydia sobbed over the phone.
"Is she still yelling at you?"
"She stormed out of the house a little while ago. Dad said to let her calm down, but...Rich, I'm scared! She was so angry!"
"I imagine she was." Rich looked over at Georgiana, who was waiting with a small frown on her face.
He was in quite a pickle. He could go on this excursion with Georgiana or he could let her down to comfort Lydia.
Rich thought of each young woman's situation and decided that Lydia needed him now. Georgiana could wait.
"I'm...I'm going to be over in a little while, okay? Try to calm down. We'll talk about this when I get there."
Georgiana turned away before he saw the horror and fury on her face. He was going to break their date to be with her!
Damn you, Lydia Bennet!
Rich turned off the phone, uncertain of how to let Georgiana down without hurting her feelings.
"Georgiana..."
"That was Lydia Bennet on the phone." Her words were spoken in a cool voice.
"Yes."
"And you want to break our date to be with her."
Date? Rich frowned. He'd never said it was a date. For God's sake, he was about ten years older than her!
"This wasn't a date, Georgiana. I just thought you might be lonely since Liz and Fitz were gone..." This conversation wasn't going well.
Georgiana felt like screaming. She'd been wrong about everything. Rich wasn't interested in her. He'd just thought she needed company and didn't want it being Caroline.
"Our plans, then. Heavens, Rich, you're far too old to be my boyfriend." Georgiana smiled. It cost her a great deal to do it.
Rich grinned. "Thanks, Georgiana. That made me feel good. But...Lydia needs someone to talk to. She's decided to quit skating."
It's about time, Georgiana thought. On the heels of that came the dreadful realization that since Lydia had quit skating, she was going to be here in Chicago on a permanent basis.
Right by Rich.
"She's giving up her only known existence, and her mother is furious. You can see the problem."
Frances Bennet's frustrated dreams and her hope of living through her daughter's triumphs were well known. Lydia's decision would've horrified her.
"Yes."
"Georgiana, I know you're upset. I know that you're never going to like Lydia. But she needs someone right now, and she has no one else to turn to. She needs me."
Georgiana sighed. "It's okay," she lied. "You go on ahead. I'll...I'll call some girlfriends and we'll hang out."
"Are you sure?"
No! A million times no! Don't go! "Sure! We can go see that movie some other time."
"Okay," he said, relieved that she was taking this so well. "Are you going to be okay getting home?"
"I'll call a cab."
"You're a great young lady, Georgiana. Someone's missing out by not seeing you for the treasure you are." He gave her a quick peck on the cheek.
"Thanks, Rich." Georgiana relished the feel of his lips, wishing he had kissed her lips and meant something more by it. And she hated his words, the words everyone said to her all the time. The man she wanted seeing her as a treasure was blind as a bat.
Rich took off. The moment he was out the door, Georgiana reached for her cell phone and angrily punched a number on it.
The phone rang twice before a harried voice said, "Hello!"
In the background, Georgiana could hear a smoke alarm going off.
"Caroline, are you okay?"
"No, I'm not! I've tried to get this damn thing to turn off and I can't get it to stop!"
"What happened?"
"I've been trying to cook chicken Kiev and--"
Georgiana burst into laughter. "You--cooking? What's the occasion?"
"I have a guest coming. A male guest. And he told me that he loves chicken Kiev, so I stupidly told him I could cook it. Now everything is ruined and I can't even get the stupid smoke alarm to shut off!" Caroline sounded like she was on the verge of tears.
"It'll be okay, Caroline. I'm sure he won't be too upset to find out you can't cook."
"He probably knew I was lying to him, anyway."
The smoke alarm finally stopped, and Caroline's voice lowered. "Finally. So what went wrong with Rich?"
"What makes you think something went wrong?"
"Georgiana, it's too early for you to be calling."
Tears trickled down Georgiana's cheeks as she said, "Lydia Bennet. That's what went wrong. The witch called just as we were leaving and convinced Rich that she needed him. So he went to be with her."
Caroline sighed.
"It's even worse. She quit the tour she's on and is leaving skating forever."
"What's so bad about that?"
"Think, Caroline! They'll both be here in Chicago. He'll go out on dates with her and fall in love. She tried to ruin my life once already. Now she's back to do it again."
"Okay, calm down. This is sort of a bad time for me to talk...but I have an idea. Would you be terribly upset if..."
Georgiana sighed. "No. I understand. You've got to do something about dinner before he gets there. Who is he, anyway?"
"Um...well, you know him...er, James Hampton."
"What?!" Georgiana yelped. "James Hampton--my cousin James?"
"That's the one."
Georgiana wasn't sure she'd heard correctly. What was her somewhat cynical cousin doing with Caroline Bingley? She was usually the type he went out of his way to avoid.
Stranger things had happened, she supposed. After all, Rich was more interested in Lydia Bennet than in her. If that could happen, anything was possible.
"Good luck with him," Georgiana said. "James can be a monumental pain in the butt, but underneath it all he's a sweetheart."
"I know."
Georgiana smiled, curious to know what Lizzy and Fitz were going to think about James' new girlfriend when they returned from Italy.
The smoke alarm went off again. Caroline cursed. And very faintly, Georgiana heard a male voice say, "I take it dinner's ready!"
"Georgiana, I have to go. He's here. Talk to you tomorrow."
"Tell him I said hello."
"I will--James, stop that laughing and see if you can get that stupid alarm turned off! Bye!"
Georgiana was smiling as she turned off her phone. A moment later, she called a friend from school to pick her up. She didn't want to spend the evening thinking of what could've been.
Part 12 Posted on Tuesday, 5 January 1999
With the World Championships less than five weeks away, Lizzy and Fitz had only a one-week honeymoon. They returned from Italy sunburnt, glowing, and utterly blissful. Georgiana was pleased for them even as she envied them their happiness.
The first thing Lizzy wanted to know upon their return was what had happened after they'd left for their wedding night. Georgiana cheerfully told them the news of James and Caroline.
"What?!" Fitz gasped at the news. "Has James completely lost his mind?"
"Apparently," Georgiana said with a laugh. "And so has she, I guess. I called her one night when she was trying to cook."
"What were you doing calling Caroline Bingley?" Lizzy frowned.
"Well, I had no one else to talk to. When she came to the reception--"
"She was there? Thank God we missed her," Fitz said. "And you have other friends. At the very least, you could've called Rich."
"No, I couldn't." Georgiana couldn't free the venom from her voice when she said, "He's been a bit occupied in the last week."
"I imagine he has," Lizzy reminded Fitz. "After all, he only broke up with Helena a few months ago."
"He's gotten over it," Georgiana muttered crossly. "He's spent a good deal of time with Lydia."
This time, Lizzy's jaw dropped in shock. "What?!"
"I guess they hooked up at the reception."
"I can't believe Lydia would be interested in Rich at all," Lizzy said. "Unless she's got a thing for men who..."
"...for men who have fallen in love with you?" Fitz's eyes twinkled. "You don't need to worry about me, my Golden Girl. I have the only Bennet I was ever interested in."
Lizzy smiled. "And I--"
"Please stop. I'll go into sugar shock," Georgiana quipped.
"Brat," Fitz said.
"I saw Carl yesterday. He told me that Charlotte convinced him to go out with her sister Mariah."
"Really?" Lizzy asked. "It's too bad Charlotte never fell in love with him."
"No," Fitz objected. "He never fell in love with her. I think she was in love with him at some point, but when he showed no interest, she turned to John."
Lizzy shook her head. "Carl's crazy about her. He was before and he is now. It was Charlotte who kept him at arm's length. This thing with John got in the way before Carl could step in."
"I think you're wrong, dear."
"I'm not."
"You're going to argue about this?" Georgiana interrupted. "You'd never be able to prove it one way or the other. Charlotte's engaged and Carl's apparently interested in her sister."
"Not very interested if he had to be convinced," Lizzy couldn't resist adding.
"Enough," Fitz said. "But it's a shame. I like Charlotte, just like you do. And we both dislike John Thorpe. We could only wish that she'd wise up and leave him. If she were to fall for Carl in the bargain, that would only be good for them both."
"Realistically, though, that's not going to happen," Lizzy said. "Charlotte is firmly entranced by John."
"The engagement is off!" Charlotte shouted as she paced Mariah's room.
Mariah was getting ready for her date with Carl. Amy was sprawled out on Mariah's bed, reading that week's issue of Entertainment Weekly. Samantha was sitting on the floor, her physics book being essentially ignored.
"Why?" Samantha asked. She was hoping to hear something interesting, like Charlotte catching John with another woman. When it came to her famous sister, Samantha was all ears to hear the latest gossip.
"He's driving me nuts. He heard me trying to...set Mariah up with Carl and got furious. He said all sorts of things about how Carl was probably gay--why else would he come around here and--"
"He's not gay!" Samantha practically shouted. "You'd think John would be relieved that Carl never fell in love with you."
"He's getting far too possessive. After saying that about Carl, he said that I shouldn't spend so much time with him. I'll be damned if I let John or anyone else tell me who to spend my time with."
"It's a contradiction anyway," Amy said. "He thinks Carl is gay but doesn't want you hanging around him?"
"It smacks of homophobia," Mariah said as she rooted through her closet to find the shoes she wanted. "And all over someone who isn't gay."
"John isn't prejudiced against gays. He held a press conference last year to announce that Marc Gercourt was joining the tour, and he'd been out of the closet for months," Charlotte snapped.
"I'll bet he goes out of his way to avoid him, though," Samantha mumbled.
Charlotte said nothing, but she seemed to think her sister was right.
"All the more reason to break off the engagement." Charlotte sat on the bed near Amy's feet.
"Now you're being contradictory," Amy said. "You defend John one minute, then say it's a reason to end your relationship."
"I thought about it. I'm allowed to think." Charlotte looked at Mariah critically. She was so pretty. Charlotte envied her family their looks, which she lacked woefully.
"I bet the two of you are back together before the week's over," Mariah said.
"I give them until the end of the night. What do you want to bet, Mariah?"
"You're wrong. Both of you," Charlotte said stubbornly, but she was unable to stop her Mariah from betting Samantha twenty bucks that she was right.
Amy idly flipped another page of her magazine. "It's too bad that Carl never fell in love with you, Charlotte. I always thought you'd make a good couple," she said.
"Drop dead, Amelia Ann," Mariah snapped, looking at herself in the mirror.
Amy glared at her sister. "It was just an observation, Mariah May." Amy hated it when Mariah used her full name.
"Come on," Charlotte said. "Cut it out."
"I though you used to like him," Samantha said. "You sure seemed to. What happened, Charlotte?"
Charlotte frowned. Samantha always had been too observant for her own good. Charlotte would never admit it, but she had been sort of in love with Carl. She'd wondered so many times if he had ever had similar feelings for her. There was a time when she'd even hoped and thought he did, but in the end it wasn't true.
Then John walked into her life, and Charlotte didn't think much about how Carl felt. She fell totally in love with John.
Only now she was furious with John. She wasn't about to marry him.
"How do I look?" Mariah turned to face them with a flourish. She looked perfect, as usual.
"Eh," Amy said.
"Same old," Charlotte added.
"Ho-hum." Samantha didn't even look.
"You guys are a real help."
They heard the phone ring at the same time a sporty black convertible pulled into the Lucas' driveway.
"Carlotta! It's that John on the telephone!" Mr. Lucas shouted.
"I'm not speaking to him!" Charlotte called.
"Papa will be thrilled to tell him," Mariah said.
"Mariah! Carl's here!" Mrs. Lucas shouted.
"Wish me luck!" Mariah grabbed her handbag and rushed down the stairs.
Charlotte watched from the window as Carl escorted Mariah to his car and opened the passenger door for her. As he walked around to the driver's side, he looked up and saw her. He waved.
Charlotte waved back.
I think I made a major mistake, she thought.
I think I made a major mistake.
That was the tenth time Carl had thought that in the past two hours.
He had, with great reluctance, agreed to go on a date with Charlotte's sister. The main reason he'd agreed was because Carly was practically begging him to, and he'd never been able to say no. Plus, Mariah looked enough like Charlotte...
That was a dreadful reason to agree to a date. Yet it was his. He'd been hoping that perhaps Mariah would turn out to be a lot like Charlotte. To his great disappointment, she hadn't been. And it was a little confusing. Mariah always seemed to strike him as being rather levelheaded and serious. Just like Charlotte.
Only the Mariah Lucas who was out on this date was acting a great deal like he would've expected Amy to act. It was a turnoff. Plus, it made him feel guilty because of why he'd agreed to this. Carl knew he should be judging Mariah on her own merits, not comparing her to Charlotte.
Dinner mercifully came to an end, but the danger wasn't over. They went to see a movie, and Mariah wanted to cuddle. The movie was horrible and he couldn't help wishing he were anywhere but in that movie theater.
The last straw came when Mariah's hand started creeping up his leg.
"That's it," he muttered. "We're going."
A startled Mariah was pulled up from her chair and dragged outside.
"Hey!" she snapped. "What's going on?"
"I'm sorry, Mariah. You're a lovely young woman, but this was a mistake. I shouldn't have agreed to this."
"Agreed? Charlotte said you couldn't wait to go out with me."
Carl groaned. Charlotte, bless her heart, only wanted the best for him. He had to keep that in mind.
"I'm sorry," he repeated. "She lied to you."
Mariah gasped. "Oh my God," she breathed. "Was John right?"
"I somehow doubt it." Carl frowned. "Right about what?"
"John told Charlotte that you were probably gay."
Carl cursed violently and felt like punching something, but John wasn't around. "I'm not gay, Mariah."
"Then why was this a mistake? Why did Charlotte have to convince you to go out with me? Why did she lie to me?"
"I don't know. What proof did John have that I was gay?"
"None, really, except that you hung around our house so much and never fell in love with any of us."
"Amy and Samantha are too young. You...well, you're nice, but it wouldn't work."
"What about Charlotte?" Mariah's gaze pierced through him. When he didn't answer, she murmured, "Oh my God."
"Oh my God what?"
"We've all been so stupid. And blind--God, were we blind!"
"You've lost me, Mariah."
"I never had a chance with you. Charlotte was always the one, wasn't she?"
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"You're in love with Charlotte." Mariah's voice became excited. "You've been in love with her from the beginning."
"No--"
"Yes! Charlotte always said you were just lonely and in need of a big family. Charlotte said that you two were just friends. We believed her, but she was wrong."
"In her eyes, she wasn't," Carl said defeatedly. "She doesn't know."
"Well, that's certainly obvious."
"And I don't want her to know. You wondered why she lied to you? Because she's trying to help me get over my broken heart."
"And she doesn't know she's the one who broke it," Mariah said with a sigh. "She's got to be the blindest person God ever created."
"It's not her fault. I've lied to her."
"Why she preferred John Thorpe over you--"
"Thank you. I suspect that John succeeded in getting Charlotte to fall in love with him because he made her feel beautiful. I never did."
"Why?"
"I never thought I needed to. I always thought she was beautiful. I just never felt she needed to be told. I thought my actions would prove myself to her...but if I had told her, she probably wouldn't have believed me."
"She might have. She might now."
Carl snorted. "Now is too late. She's engaged to another man."
"Not anymore. She broke the engagement today."
"She what?"
"Charlotte said that she and John had a major fight and she broke up with him." There was no need to tell him that she and Samantha had bet on how soon they'd make up. If she was right, there was a chance that Carl could finally hook up with Charlotte and she wouldn't have to suffer John as her brother-in-law. If she couldn't have Carl, that was the next best thing.
Carl wanted to dance, but they were in a public place so he didn't. He wanted to rush back to the Lucas house that instant and tell Charlotte of his love, but he couldn't. He'd hurt and insulted Mariah enough for one evening.
"Come on," she said. "I know you're dying to leave, so take me home. You can talk to Charlotte." Mariah smiled.
Carl kissed her cheek. "You're the best, Mariah."
"I know."
Carl never went through a faster drive than the one back to Charlotte. He was nearly caught by the cops twice. When he skidded into the Lucas' driveway, he leaped out of the car without killing the engine. Mariah turned off the ignition.
Carl was ready to burst into the house, shouting to Charlotte that he loved her. But he would just as soon not tell everyone else before telling her.
Carl opened the door, surprising Samantha, who had been about to open it for him.
"Is Charlotte here?" he asked.
"In the family room," she replied. She smirked at Mariah, who lagged behind.
Carl walked through the house, passing Mrs. Lucas but not before giving her a huge hug.
"Carl, really!" she laughed, pleased to see him looking so happy after so long.
Carl headed into the family room. The first thing he saw was Mr. Lucas, sitting impassively in his chair, watching a basketball game on television. Carl frowned, because Mr. Lucas was quite animated about basketball.
Then Carl looked over at the sofa.
Charlotte sat there, snuggling in the arms of John Thorpe. Neither of them appeared to notice him.
"Looks like Samantha won the bet," Mariah said softly behind him. "Carl, I'm sorry."
Without saying a word to anyone, Carl turned and walked out of the room.
Part 13 Posted on Tuesday, 12 January 1999
London, England. World Championships.
Georgiana whirled around the rink. Her music for the long program was playing, and she was setting up for her triple lutz combination. The music was a medley from Victor Victoria which ranged from jazzy to romantic to comic. Georgiana loved the movie when she'd finally seen it a year ago, and now she was able to do her program to the music.
She reached her leg back and jumped.
A few people stopped to stare at her as she landed her combination cleanly. The spectators in the bleachers applauded.
The footwork section of her program began. Georgiana made her way from one end of the rink to the other, concentrating on the difficult, essential footwork. It seemed easier now, but only years of practice had enabled her to think it. And it was still tough, no matter what she thought.
Then came the spinning--combination spins, trying to stay upright and in perfect position and look effortless and graceful.
Naturally she looked perfect.
She came to her final spin and pose.
"Absolutely fantastic!" Edward Gardiner called from his viewpoint just outside the ice. Georgiana skated over to the boards as another skater's music began.
Edward had taken over coaching duties for Lizzy, Fitz and Georgiana after the last Olympics. The fierce rivalry of Frances Bennet, Lizzy's mother and coach at the time, and Catherine de Bourgh, known as "Lady Cat," who had coached Fitz and Georgiana, was too great for either of them to work out. Besides, Lizzy didn't like Lady cat and Fitz was especially enamored of Frances. Plus, they weren't happy with their coaches, so a change was for the best.
It had been Lizzy's idea to ask Edward Gardiner, a former gold medalist turned commentator, to be their coach. He'd always been a good friend to him, and his wife had mentioned that he wasn't happy just being an announcer. He'd gladly stepped into the role of coach, though as he pointed out, "They hardly need me. I'm just there for moral support."
"There's something wrong with my triple flip," Georgiana said.
"It looked pretty good."
"It felt a little strange. I don't think I'm getting enough height on it."
"You can try it again in a little bit. That triple lutz never looked better."
Georgiana smiled. "I've been watching the master at work and taking notes." She pointed across the ice to where Rich was standing, talking to Frances.
"I've heard he's not happy with her lately," Edward said.
"He isn't." Georgiana's mouth thinned, because she knew who had caused the breach between Frances and Rich.
According to Rich, Frances was making good on her threat not to speak to Lydia again. Frances went out of her way to avoid her.
"Infantile behavior," Rich had grumbled.
As time passed and it appeared that Lydia was to be estranged forever from her mother, the gap between Rich and Frances widened. He was so furious that many of their practices ended in arguments.
"You lost Liz because you tried to run her life," he snapped. "Do you want to lose Lydia as well?"
But Frances changed the subject, which frustrated Rich.
The longer this went on, the more time Rich spent with Lydia and less time with the Darcys. Lizzy still hadn't forgiven her sister, for which Georgiana was grateful. The last thing she needed was Lydia and Rich hanging around the house all lovey-dovey, not that Fitz would ever permit such a thing.
Georgiana was still debating the last idea Caroline had given her before she'd left for London. Caroline's suggestion was that she remind Rich--and the world--exactly what Lydia had tried to do to her.
"The papers, thanks to your brother, made Lydia seem a lot less guilty than we know she was. So why not turn it around?"
"Who would care? It's been three years."
Caroline replied, "Suppose there was new evidence that Lydia was more involved? Something that might get her arrested."
"The police determined that there wasn't enough evidence to charge her. It's not likely something's going to come up now."
"Your brother convinced them not to press charges. I'm sure there was plenty of evidence."
"Which has probably disappeared. How do you come up with something that no longer exists?"
And thus the conversation turned in circles. What it all came down to was whether or not Georgiana was willing to bend the truth a bit in the papers and continue to flay Lydia in the arena of public opinion.
Georgiana held out her hand for her skate guards. Slipping them on, she stepped off the ice. She waved to a few of the people she knew.
"You looked good out there," she heard someone say.
"Thanks," she replied absently as she walked away.
"Excuse me, Miss Darcy?" the man continued, rushing up to her.
For a brief second, she felt the old fear. George Wickham was coming up behind her, the black stick in his hand...
But when she turned, all she saw was a tall (to her--he was probably only five-ten) young man with a mop of riotous blond curls, blue-green eyes that reminded her of the turquoise ring she'd bought years ago, and wire-rimmed glasses perched precariously on his nose. He was holding pen and paper.
"Would you like an autograph?" she asked politely, always courteous to fans.
He chuckled. "I'm not an autograph hound, Miss Darcy. I'm Bret Sullivan with the Chicago Tribune. You set up and interview with me, remember?"
Georgiana tried hard but couldn't remember ever calling anyone about an interview. But she was always nice to the press as well, and he looked so sincere and hopeful that she couldn't turn him away. He was probably just starting out. He probably hated figure skating but was stuck with the job and trying to make the most of it.
"I don't remember it at all, Mr. Sullivan, but things have been a little hectic lately."
He smiled. He had perfect teeth and a great smile. "If you'd rather not do the interview, I'll understand."
"No. I must've called you and simply forgotten."
"Is there a place where we can talk privately?"
"Uh...okay." Bret smiled again--a reassuring smile. "You don't have to worry. I'm harmless most of the time."
Georgiana smiled in return. She led him to one of the private boxes high in the stands.
"Thanks for granting me the interview," he said.
"It's not a problem, but it's going to have to be brief. I have to return to the ice in about fifteen minutes."
"Not a problem."
Bret asked all the basic questions she'd answered a million times before. How had she felt winning the Olympics so young? How had her life changed? How did she feel knowing Wickham was free from prison? Was it true he'd severely damaged her knee years before? Did she think Lydia Bennet should've been charged?
It was the last question that gave her a moment to think. It was Caroline's idea, handed to her with gift wrapping. Years earlier, she'd told the world she didn't think Lydia was much involved with that plot. She'd told Rich recently that she'd forgiven her. What would he think of she changed her opinion now?
She kept thinking.
"You don't have to answer," Bret said softly. "I understand the difficulty, seeing that her sister married your brother."
"I suspect," she murmured, "that Lydia played more of a role. George Wickham claimed she did, and although he was willing to implicate her to cut a deal, I suspect that there's more truth in his statement than anyone was willing to admit."
"At the time, you said that you didn't think she had anything to do with it."
"Three years gives a person a better perspective. If I had to do it over, I think I would've wanted to police to pursue the matter."
"But then Elizabeth Bennet would've been tainted by her sister's reputation and unable to skate with your brother."
Georgiana had known that that observation was coming. "I suppose that's true. I think my brother was protecting me from the press as much as he was protecting the woman he loved."
"A noble gesture, but perhaps not the right one."
Georgiana shrugged. "I was fifteen, scared witless from the attempt. What would you have done if it had been your sister?"
Bret's face paled, but he managed to maintain his composure. "Probably the same."
Georgiana checked the clock on the wall. "I have to get back down there," she said.
"All right. Thanks for the interview."
"Like I said, it wasn't a problem."
"Would you mind if I asked you one more question?"
"Okay."
"Are you doing anything tonight?"
Georgiana was a bit surprised, but she smiled. "I'm supposed to be resting."
"Supposed?"
"If someone were to ask me out, I would probably say yes." And perhaps Rich could hear that she was dating someone, become jealous, and realize that surely he loved her.
"Dinner okay?"
"Yeah. Pick me up at the Hampstead Hotel at six-thirty?"
"Works for me."
Georgiana walked out of the room, smiling at the prospect of a nice evening.
Bret Sullivan waited until she'd left before sitting heavily in the chair he'd sat in for the interview.
"What would you have done if it had been your sister?"
Such an innocent question, yet underneath it exposed the cause of his problems.
Leaving the skybox, Bret went to find a pay phone. He punched in the number he knew now by heart.
"H'lo?" The voice was low and muffled, and Bret couldn't tell if it was a man or woman he was speaking to.
"It's Bret Sullivan," he said.
"Ah, h'lo Sully. How did your interview go?"
"Quite well."
"What did she say?"
"Read about it in the paper tomorrow," Bret snapped.
"Did she agree to the date?"
"Yes."
"Good. But be sure not to sneak around and infuriate that brother of hers. You want all of them to trust you or it won't work."
"What won't work?"
"We'll get to that when the time comes. For now, you do what I tell you and ask no questions. Remember, you're in no position to disagree with me."
Bret felt the all-too-familiar frustration and impotence well up inside.
"Do as I tell you and your little secret is safe with me."
Bret could barely choke out the words. "I will."
"Keep in touch and tell me how it goes." The phone clicked as the other party hung up. It took all of Bret's willpower not to try and destroy the phone.
Not that the phone was to blame. No one was to blame for the mess he was in--except himself.
Bret looked down at the ice. Georgiana, with her copper hair, was hard to miss as she glided around the ice. She prepared for a jump--which one, he didn't know. It looked great to him.
He wondered what she'd done in order for the person blackmailing him to want revenge. He wondered what that revenge would be.
Part 14 Posted on Thursday, 14 January 1999
Caroline watched with still-bitter eyes and thoughts as Lizzy and Fitz skated on the ice, the paso doble music from Strictly Ballroom playing. Even though she was furious to this day about Fitz's defection, the honest voice in her admitted that Fitz Darcy had never looked happier or better on the ice than he did right then.
Skating with Lizzy.
"Why torture yourself this way?" she heard James Hampton say behind her. "You can't change the past, Caroline."
"I know."
"And wondering what could've been is only a waste of your time."
"I know."
"Then why are you here?"
"I don't know."
James moved to the seat next to her. She pulled her eyes away from the ice to look at him, feeling her bitterness drain as she did.
That seemed to happen a lot lately. She'd spent nearly every day of the past few weeks with him, in spite of the commute because she lived in Boston and he in New York.
And it was no coincidence that they'd spent time together looking at townhouses in the city. Perhaps after they returned from London Caroline would move in with him, if they could find the right place.
"Are you skating?" he asked.
"Here? No. I gave up amateur skating. Don't you keep up with sports news?" she teased.
"I do, generally. When did you give up Olympic-eligible skating?"
"At the Nationals, when I finished fourteenth behind a pair of twelve-year-olds."
James brushed a stray curl from her forehead. "Why did that happen? I've seen tapes of you. You're a beautiful skater."
"Thank you." Caroline basked in the glow of the compliment. "But I'm a wonderful pairs skater. Singles is almost completely different, and I'm not good at it."
"So you're going pro?"
"No. I think I'm done with skating forever."
"Why? You're only--"
"Twenty-seven, I know. I've been skating for twenty-two years, since I was five. All I've ever had was skating and the dream that one day I'd have fame and fortune and a gold medal. But now...I realize that I want to enjoy the rest of my life, before this time is over and I miss it altogether. I want to be able to sleep in mornings."
"Fitz said you did that anyway."
"When Catherine let me, sure." Caroline looked over at Catherine de Bourgh, who stood by the boards talking to her latest protégé, a very pretty young woman named Catie Morland. Catie was a bit of a ninny and easily led, but the lovely British girl was quite captivating on the ice. She was Lady Cat's ideal pupil.
The music ended. There was some applause as Lizzy and Fitz left the ice to take a break and talk with their coach. The next skater's music started. It was Rich's, and he was reprising his gold medal-winning performance to Barber's "Adagio for Strings."
Caroline saw Georgiana step close to the ice as Rich prepared for his quad lutz. He was still the only man in the world who had landed it. And he did it now with perfection and consistency.
This one was just the same. Caroline applauded along with other spectators as Rich continued to move around the ice. "That jump never ceases to astound me," she said. "How he does it..."
"Caroline, why are you really giving up skating?"
Caroline sighed. "Because I never really enjoyed it. I wanted to be successful for all the wrong reasons. I wanted the glory and the fame. If Fitz hadn't left me, I'd still be out there, but I know now that my heart was never in it. I never loved skating like he did."
"Perhaps you should thank him for leaving you rather than resent his success."
"Like hell I will!" Caroline grumbled. James laughed.
"You're a gem, Caroline," he said. He was leaning in to kiss her when he heard someone call his name.
"Jimmy?"
James turned in the direction of the voice before he could kiss Caroline. She was disappointed.
A tall young woman with chin-length curly reddish-blonde hair was walking toward them. She had a pretty smile and beautiful blue eyes, but as far as Caroline could see there was nothing else to recommend her as she was heavyset and fairly ordinary-looking.
"Annie!" he said with surprise. "What are you doing here?"
"I'm writing a book set in England, so I thought I'd better get to know the place," the young woman replied. "What are you doing here?"
"Covering the event for The Network."
Annie? Caroline frowned as the young woman sat on James' other side. Where have I heard that name?
"I can't believe we're both here at the same time," Annie was saying.
"Do you like skating?"
"Love it. I had a friend get me tickets for the competitions. If I'd known you were here, I would've asked you so I could get them for free."
James chuckled. "Same old Annie, never wanting to spend more than she has to--"
"Except on books and movies and music." Annie smiled.
Annie...wait! What was it Laura said? She'd dated him and he'd dumped her like he had her friend Annie.
She was one of James' ex-girlfriends...and clearly looking to get back together with him.
"What are you doing tonight?" Annie asked.
"Uh..." James seemed to finally remember Caroline. "I'm sorry. Annie, this is Caroline Bingley. Caroline, Annie Newman."
Annie smiled at her. Caroline wished she had a gun to shoot her with.
"Nice to meet you." Annie's smile faded when Caroline didn't return the greeting.
James had the grace to look embarrassed, and Annie quickly picked up on the problem. "I think maybe..." he started to say.
"It's okay, Jimmy. If you have some free time, I'll be at the Hampstead Hotel. Room 225."
"Okay. Bye, Annie."
Annie left after kissing him on the cheek.
"That was rude, Caroline," he said with a frown. "Annie's an old friend."
"Sure, Jimmy. An old girlfriend. Laura mentioned her to me."
"Look, I prefer to remain friends with my ex-girlfriends. Is that a crime?"
"No, but that one is looking at a second term in the position."
"Annie? Please. If you knew her, Caroline, you'd realize how ridiculous that statement was."
"I'd just as soon not know her." Caroline crossed her arms. "I can't believe you went out with her. She's almost--"
"We can't all be blessed with a size-two figure," James snapped. "I didn't date her because she was beautiful, but because she was a sweetheart. I liked her a great deal, and I still do."
"Then why aren't you with her now?"
"Because I had the great misfortune to fall in love with you!" James shouted. He stood up and stormed out of the arena, leaving a stunned Caroline behind.
"Looks like the honeymoon is over," Lizzy said as she and Fitz watched James leave.
"That was fast, especially for James." Fitz frowned.
"You're surprised? That is Caroline, you know."
"I've seen him endure far worse."
"When?"
Fitz rattled off no fewer than six names. "I wonder why he got so upset."
"I don't really care," Lizzy said. "I know he's your cousin, but I'm more interested in other things."
"Such as?"
"Such as going through our routine again."
Before they could return to the ice, Rich flew over to them and came to a stop.
"Hey, Liz," he said.
"Hi, Rich." Lizzy grinned.
"Can I talk to you for a minute?"
"Sure...what about?"
"Uh..." Rich looked at Fitz. "In private, if you don't mind."
Fitz looked like he may very well mind, but he said nothing as Rich and Lizzy walked away from him and into a private room.
Lizzy had a small sense of deja vu. She knew why Fitz was still a bit reluctant around Rich. She couldn't blame him.
"What did you want to talk about?" she asked.
"It's about Lydia."
Lizzy sighed. She'd been hoping Georgiana was reading more into Rich's support of Lydia against Frances than was actually there. No such luck.
"Look, put yourself in her place," Rich said. "She hates skating anymore, but her mother refuses to speak to her unless she takes it up again. Liddy's always been her favorite. How do you think she feels?"
"I'm sorry that Mom is reacting so poorly."
"Liz...she wants your forgiveness and understanding for what happened three years ago."
"I'm sorry, but I can't give it to her."
"Why? She's your sister, for God's sake. You could try."
"I could, but why should I?"
"She's so sorry for what she did!" Rich nearly shouted. "She's grown up. She's a lot more mature than she was then, and she's truly sorry for what almost happened."
"She should be telling that to Georgiana, not to me."
"She'd like to, but she feels she needs to apologize to you, too, because she almost wrecked your chances for skating with Fitz."
"There's no way in hell Fitz would let her within a mile of Georgiana."
"I know."
There was an uncomfortable pause. Finally, Rich said, "you need to consider a few things. First of all, Lydia was only eighteen when this happened. Before you say that eighteen's an adult, think of yourself at that age."
"I was a mature eighteen."
She had him there. "Because you were the older child, and not your mother's favorite. Liddy was spoiled by your mother because she was her baby, and you have to admit, a lot like Frances." Rich let that sink in before continuing. "And I think I should remind you that you weren't a complete angel at eighteen. Remember at the Nationals when you and Carl--"
"At least I never tried to cripple the competition, tempting as it might've been in Caroline's case."
"You have to admit that Lydia didn't have your intelligence. The second thing to remember is that she trusted George Wickham. She was crazy in love with him, remember?"
"She shouldn't have believed a thing he said."
"I seem to remember someone else believing him--and she was two years older than Lydia."
Lizzy flushed. "That was before he deliberately cost us a gold medal."
"It took her longer to realize what a creep he was."
"Only after hearing he was willing to rat on her. When she got on the plane for Chicago, she still felt she'd done nothing wrong."
"Things are different now. That's the last thing. Lydia is a lot older and a lot more mature today. The last three years--"
"--are her own fault."
"Yes. She knows that. They've changed her. She's regretting the price she paid for her role in that plan. She's relented on the whole thing. She would ask forgiveness of Georgiana if Fitz would give her a chance, but what she's hoping for at the very least is yours."
"How could I forgive her? I see my own shame when I look at Georgiana, because I remember that it was my own sister who tried to hurt her."
"She doesn't expect the two of you to become good friends."
"We weren't before," Lizzy said needlessly.
"She said she'd understand if you preferred not to see her. She would never put you at odds with Fitz or Georgiana."
"That's exactly what she's asking."
"It is possible to forgive your sister and still be a Darcy, you know. It's not like she wants more than that. She just wants this one thing."
"It's never just one thing with Lydia."
Rich could see that Lizzy wasn't going to budge. "I'm sorry you feel that way. Lydia's here in London, at the Plaza."
"Why is she here?"
"She's hoping to reconcile with Frances...and maybe you. And I asked her to be here. If you change your mind, she's in Room 311." He started to head for the door.
"Rich?"
"Yeah."
"What's the attraction? Is it her similarity to me?"
Rich turned back and smiled. "I'm not sure what it is yet. But it's got nothing to do with you. As you're fond of saying, you and Lydia aren't like each other at all, so how could it be?" He opened the door. "Go see her," he said before leaving.