Chapter 16

They were dancing together in the moonlight again, but this time they were on William’s balcony, just steps from his room … and his bed. Elizabeth arched against him and he tightened his arms around her as their mouths melded in a scorching kiss. He knew that he couldn’t take much more of this sweet torture.

“Please, Lizzy, let me make love to you. I want you so much.”

“Yes,” she whispered. “I feel the same way.”

Exultation filled him, and he lifted her into his arms and carried her into the bedroom. Somehow their clothes melted away, and as he lowered her gently to the bed, he drank in the sight of her voluptuous beauty, reveling in the knowledge that it was his, and his alone, to savor. She held out her arms to him in supplication, and he eagerly joined her on the bed, drawing her body against his. He groaned as her delicate hands caressed his torso.

“Don’t leave me, Lizzy. Please, stay with me, stay in New York. I can’t let you go, not when we’ve just found each other.”

She moaned and shuddered as his lips and hands explored her body.

“Of course I’ll stay,” she replied in a heated whisper. “I could never leave you, William.”

“Tell me that you love me,” he commanded.

Her hands moved lower, and he gasped at the raw intensity of the sensation.

“I love you, William. I’ll always love you.”

He moved above her, delirious with joy at the sight and feel of her body beneath his, her satiny skin bathed in moonlight, her emerald eyes glowing with love. “I love you, Lizzy,” he cried, as he— settled between her parted thighs and—

William’s alarm clock yanked him cruelly out of his dream. He squinted at it in confusion, and then whacked the snooze button with far more energy than the task required. His head dropped back onto his pillow as he attempted to cling to the tantalizing shreds of his dream before they dissolved entirely.

I’d give anything to have her here right now, asleep in my arms. I’d hold her and watch her sleep for a while. Then I’d kiss her awake and make love to her. And then I’d make love to her again … maybe in the shower. And then …

Despite Elizabeth’s regrettable absence from his bed this morning, the previous evening had been one of the best of his life. They had talked, laughed, danced, kissed … and kissed some more. He burrowed deeper into the softness of the bed, his lips curving into a sleepy smile as he remembered her sweetly passionate response to his kisses.

Unwilling to force Elizabeth to face down the gauntlet of curious women in his house, he had made no attempt to entice her to spend the night there. Instead, Allen had driven them back to her apartment late in the evening. She had invited William in for a cup of coffee, causing him to reflect with relief on his decision, when getting dressed for the evening, to tuck two condoms into his wallet.

Unfortunately, they had entered the apartment to discover Sally lying face down on the couch, sobbing noisily into a throw pillow. Elizabeth’s sympathetic but persistent questioning had finally uncovered the problem: Sally and her boyfriend had broken up following a bitter argument, after which she had attempted to find solace in a long procession of tequila shooters.

William, far too frustrated to even feign concern for Sally, had reluctantly accompanied Elizabeth into the hall to say good night.

“I’m so sorry about this, but she’s my friend and she’s really upset. You understand, don’t you?”

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean I’m happy about it,” he grumbled. “I’m not ready for this evening to end.” He put his hands on Elizabeth’s shoulders and drew them slowly down her arms, feeling her shiver slightly at his touch.

“I know,” she replied, looking into his eyes. “We could have … talked some more. But Sally needs me right now.”

He wrapped his arms around her waist. “Okay, but I’ve changed my mind about being her fan.”

Elizabeth laughed softly and lifted her hand to trace the dimple that had just appeared on his cheek. “Thank you so much for tonight. It was one of the nicest evenings I’ve ever spent.”

William had kissed her slowly and thoroughly after that, until they were both breathless. It had been difficult to leave her and return to his waiting car—her flushed cheeks and the unmistakable hunger in her eyes had told him what might have been, had the apartment been empty.

At least I’m going to see her again tonight. He yawned and stretched, arching his back with a deep groan, and glanced at the clock. He had to get up very soon, or he’d be late meeting Richard.

Elizabeth had initially said that she was busy tonight—a group of her friends were throwing her a farewell party. But while William still held her in his arms, basking in the aftermath of their sultry kiss, he had raised the question again.

“You’re leaving so soon, and I want to see you again before you go,” he said, gently smoothing a lock of hair away from her cheek.

“I can’t skip the party—I’m the guest of honor.”

His lips moved leisurely across her cheek toward her ear lobe. “Please?” he murmured in her ear.

“I suppose I could bring a date,” she replied in a small, shaky voice.

He had been left with no choice but to kiss her again.

Unfortunately, they wouldn’t even have the few moments of privacy they had managed to find last night at his house. At least, not till I take her home … and even then it depends. Maybe I should offer Sally’s boyfriend $10,000 to make up with her and take her back to his place for the night.

The alarm buzzed again and William, with a dramatic sigh, sat up and turned it off. He briefly considered calling Richard to cancel their plans to run together. But if I do that, he’ll think it’s because I’m in bed with Elizabeth. And much as I wish that were true, I don’t want Richard leering about it. She deserves more respect than that.

He dragged himself out of bed, wincing as his usual morning headache announced its presence. The headaches and dizzy spells had grown markedly worse during his trip to Chicago, and he had finally asked Sonya to make an appointment with Dr. Rosemont under the guise of a normal check-up. The appointment was scheduled for tomorrow afternoon, a fact upon which William preferred not to dwell.

Okay, time to get moving. He quickly dressed himself, swallowed six ibuprofen caplets, and headed downstairs.

Central Park is Manhattan’s shared back yard, with 843 acres of meadows and woods, ponds and plazas, gathering places and gardens. The park’s various attractions range from an antique carousel to a memorial for John Lennon. New Yorkers play sports, attend concerts, and even get married there. Some of the most desirable real estate in Manhattan rings the park, with the privileged few who live on the perimeter locked in a perennial argument about the relative merits of a view from Central Park West on the Upper West Side, versus one from Fifth Avenue on the Upper East Side.

To William, the park had special meaning going back to his childhood. It was there, in Richard’s company, that he had first tasted freedom of the sort that most nine-year-old boys take for granted, but that to William had been dazzling in its novelty: the chance to kick a soccer ball, to run a race, or to throw a baseball without sharp-eyed supervision and fearful admonitions. Even now, he experienced a sense of liberation whenever he stepped inside its low stone walls.

On this morning in June, the park was populated with the usual assortment of dog walkers, cyclists, inline skaters, walkers, and runners. William was grateful that the path he ran along was partially in the shade—the morning sun was already warm, and a light sheen of sweat covered his skin.

As it turned out, he was running alone. Richard had called just before William left the house, asking to reschedule for the following morning. Richard hadn’t given a reason, but William was certain that his cousin was suffering from the after-effects of his previous night’s revels —unless, that is, the revels were still in progress.

After twenty years of running in the park, William knew the various paths intimately. Richard liked to run around the reservoir, which offered stunning city views, a well-maintained track, and opportunities to check out the female joggers. When William was alone, he preferred to head further north, where the paths wound through quiet wooded areas. This morning, though, he was beginning to question the wisdom of his decision to venture so far from home.His headache had gotten worse, and he was starting to feel unsteady.

He slowed his pace to a walk and decided that he should find a place to sit and rest before a full-blown dizzy spell overtook him. He detoured onto a trail that he knew led to some benches only a short distance away, walking with a careful, deliberate stride. Finally he dropped wearily onto a bench overlooking a pond.

William wasn’t sure how long he sat unmoving on the bench, elbows propped on his knees, his head resting in his hands, but finally his breathing began to slow and his head cleared. He sat up tentatively, waiting for the last of the dizziness to dissipate. He looked out over the tranquil pond, noting the willow trees dipping gracefully into the water and the liberal sprinkling of ducks and geese enjoying a swim. He began to absently hum the opening theme from Beethoven’s Pastorale Symphony, its mood suiting the sylvan landscape.

But I can’t sit here humming forever. I have that 10:00 meeting at the house, and Gran will have my head if I’m late. William didn’t carry his cell phone when he ran; he preferred not to have extraneous items rattling in his pockets. He had never had cause to regret that choice before, but now he was deep into the park, his only viable option to exit it the same way he had entered—on foot—despite his fatigue and his still-throbbing headache.

He stood up slowly, testing his balance, and began to walk along a path that wound through the woods in the general direction of Fifth Avenue. I need some rest; all these sleepless nights have simply got to end. But when I spend half of every night thinking about Elizabeth and the other half dreaming about her, I don’t know how I’m supposed to get a decent night’s sleep.

Elizabeth sat in the kitchen, sipping a cup of tea and staring at the yellow roses on the table. They were beginning to droop, but she hadn’t been able to force herself to discard them.

I wonder what William is doing right now, and what he’s thinking. I wish I had the slightest idea what’s going on in his head. And more to the point, I wish I could figure out what was going on in my own head.

Elizabeth had awakened early, still in a euphoric haze, but as she had reflected on the evening, doubts and worries had begun to creep into her mind. What on earth was I thinking, inviting him in? I’m sure he considered it an invitation to stay the night, especially after all the kissing we did. And what was that about? I don’t act that way on second dates … or third or fourth dates, for that matter. A good night kiss at the door is one thing, but …

Oh, I suppose it’s no wonder that I lost my mind a little bit. Moonlight, orchids, Brahms, chocolate mousse … and William Darcy. Who could possibly resist all of that?

Elizabeth had to admit that William was by far the most irresistible element of that combination. He was charming, sincere, and quietly funny. He exuded a gentle, warm quality that touched her heart, and he was polite in a courtly, almost old-fashioned way. And the way he looked in that tuxedo …no, I don’t think any woman could have kept a level head in the face of all of that.

Her reverie was interrupted by the buzz of the intercom. She hurried to answer it. “Yes?”

“Ms. Bennet, it’s Allen Reynolds. Mr. Darcy sent me here with something for you. May I come up?”

Elizabeth felt her heart leap. “Of course,” she answered, pressing the button to admit him to the building. “Or would it be easier for you if I came down?”

“No, please, stay where you are. I’ll be right up.”

She stood with the apartment door open, waiting for Allen to appear, and soon he did. When she saw the item in his hands, her eyes widened in pleasure. I should have guessed.

Allen made his delivery, politely refused her offer of a cup of coffee, and departed. Elizabeth shut her apartment door and returned to the kitchen, holding an envelope in one hand and a potted orchid—the purple one she had commented on last night in the greenhouse —in the other. She leaned against the kitchen counter and tore the envelope open.

Dear Elizabeth,

This small token hardly seems an adequate “thank you” for one of the most enjoyable evenings I have ever spent. I am somewhat reluctant to part with this orchid—as I said last night, it reminds me of you—but it will give me pleasure to think of it living with you in your new home, perhaps reminding you in some small way of me.

Yours,

William

Elizabeth’s smile was bittersweet as she gently set the note on the kitchen table beside the orchid. She located her purse in the living room and removed from her wallet a slip of paper containing a phone number. Returning to the kitchen, she dialed the number, connecting to William’s cell phone. She was disappointed when she was routed to his voicemail, though she grinned when Sonya’s recorded voice invited her to leave a message. He wasn’t kidding when he told me he hates his cell phone. That’s pretty bad, if he wasn’t even willing to record his own voicemail greeting!

She left her message after the inevitable beep. “Hi, William, it’s Elizabeth. I was just calling to thank you for the beautiful orchid. And the note was really sweet, and I … well, anyway, thank you. I’ll see you tonight.”

Okay, time to go out and run some errands so I can get home and get some packing done before the party. And I’d better check on Sally and make sure she’s okay … well, anyway, as okay as can be expected after all that tequila.

William stood in his bathroom, stripping off his sweat-drenched running clothes. He had jogged part of the way home and was again out of breath. Mrs. Reynolds had expressed concern about his breathlessness and pallor when she met him at the door, but he had assured her that he was merely tired and that there was nothing to worry about.

So he had said, but it wasn’t true, and he knew it despite all his efforts to pretend otherwise. He frowned into the mirror, fingering a faint scar that was partially hidden by the light covering of hair on his chest. I’ve always known that this was inevitable. I just hoped it wouldn’t happen so soon.

He knew what Dr. Rosemont would tell him tomorrow, and it was news he had no wish to hear. But three months of denial had accomplished nothing; instead, his symptoms had gradually worsened until he could no longer pretend to ignore them.

I wish I had someone I could talk to. Georgie was too young, and Gran and Mrs. Reynolds had endured too much anxiety on his behalf in the past, and would have to endure more soon enough. He and Richard, despite their close friendship, maintained a façade of manly bravado that precluded the sharing of their deepest fears. Sonya was a possibility, but she would dole out straight talk, not the warmth and reassurance William craved. Elizabeth. If we were together, if she loved me, I could talk to her. I could share everything with her. But that wasn’t the case, and so he would simply have to shoulder the burden alone for a while longer.

The thought that she had been in this room last night provided him with a small measure of comfort. What if she were here now, looking at me? Would she like what she saw? William ignored his drawn, tired face and his unruly hair, and instead scrutinized his torso. As long as she’s not looking for a guy with huge, bulging biceps, I should be okay. As a teenager, his build had been slight and lanky. Oh, let’s just say it. I was scrawny. But the passage of time, combined with a regimen of cautious weight training begun years ago at Richard’s urging, had filled out his chest and arms until he was satisfied with his appearance. William would never have his cousin’s more muscular build, but Richard had more free time to spend at the gym and no restrictions on the forms of exercise he could undertake.

The lower half of William’s body was in excellent condition from running, with strong, well-muscled legs and a flat, taut abdomen. He turned, inspecting himself from behind in the mirror. More than one smitten female had used the word “cute” in reference to his hind quarters, so he supposed that he would pass inspection on that score as well.

His eyes fell on the one part of his anatomy he hadn’t yet assessed. Nothing whatever to be ashamed of there. Except maybe my complete lack of control whenever Elizabeth is around.

William crossed the room and turned on the shower. After adjusting the temperature, he stepped in, savoring the warmth of the water jetting onto his skin from the various nozzles. In his mind, he saw Elizabeth join him, gloriously naked. He drew her against him, and she began to stroke his chest, her lips caressing his scar.

“I’m here, William. We’ll get through this together,” his phantom Elizabeth whispered, pressing herself close to him.

Her words gave him comfort, while the exquisite sensation of her body against his—imaginary, yet utterly vivid—awoke his raging need for her. He pulled her hips tightly against his, allowing her to feel the full extent of his desire. Her eyes darkened with lascivious intent as her hands explored him, spreading a trail of fire in their wake.

William had been aroused too often in the past 24 hours without relief, and he was reaching the breaking point. His soapy hands reached down to lather his hot, aching flesh, and he drew a sharp breath when he touched the engorged tip. He closed his eyes, stroking himself with a firm grip as he imagined Elizabeth’s soft hands wrapped around him. “Lizzy,” he moaned. “Lizzy, I need you.”

Every muscle in his body tensed, clamoring for release, as steam swirled around him. William scarcely felt the streams of hot water pulsing from the nozzles, his awareness riveted on the sharp, almost painful pleasure racking his body. He threw back his head, his loud groan echoing through the shower stall as he reached his shuddering peak.

William slumped against the glass wall, breathing rapidly while little aftershocks of sensation darted through him. “Oh, God, Lizzy,” he gasped. “I can’t go on like this much longer.”

About fifteen minutes later, after William had shaved and dressed, he noticed a flashing light on his cell phone. It took some time for him to recall that it indicated that he had a voicemail message. This was a rare event—he received relatively few calls on his cell phone, and even fewer messages. Sonya, Mrs. Reynolds, and his family members were well aware of his antipathy for his cell phone, and used it only when absolutely necessary. And no one else had the number—or, at least, he suddenly realized, that had been true until a few days ago.

He snatched the phone off his dresser and flipped it open, navigating the menus until he connected to voicemail. Damn! What is my password? William had an excellent memory, but for some reason his voicemail password refused to stay in his mind. Grinding his teeth, he bounded down the stairs to Sonya’s office.

Sonya looked up, eyebrows raised in anticipation. “Good morning, boss. How did it go last night?”

“Aside from the house seeming like Grand Central Station, it went very well.”

“A few too many people around, eh?” Sonya feigned an innocent expression.

“Oh, don’t be coy. At least the other people who interrupted us didn’t do it intentionally.”

“You mean you still haven’t forgiven me for that?”

A reluctant grin pulled at the corners of William’s mouth. “Oh, I imagine sooner or later I’ll permit you to live it down.”

She checked the clock on her desk. “It’s almost time for the grant meeting. We’re all set, aren’t we?” Representatives from the New York City Public Schools were due at the house in a few minutes to discuss a project that the Darcy Arts Trust was to fund.

“I think so. But right now I need to know my voicemail password.”

She heaved a loud sigh, rolling her eyes. “You’ve forgotten it again? Don’t you think it’s kind of pathetic to be this much of a techno-idiot?”

“I’m not a techno-idiot. It’s just never been a priority.”

“What is it with you? You’ve got this phenomenal brain, and you can’t remember a simple password.”

“My cell phone’s always been just an annoyance to me. You know that. I’ve never wanted to be instantly accessible to anyone and everyone who suddenly decides they want to talk to me.”

“Until now.”

William bit the inside of his lip and looked away from Sonya’s knowing smirk. “Just give me the password.”

She wrote six digits on a small yellow Post-It and handed it to him. “Now memorize this. It’s not that hard, you know. Maybe I should hire an eight-year-old to travel around with you and handle your phone. The kid could take care of your e-mail too.”

William turned to go. “Good idea,” he called over his shoulder. “If I can teach him to type a little bit and to sass me constantly, I won’t need you anymore.”

He passed through the doorway to his office, already entering his password on the cell phone’s keypad, and by the time he sat down behind his desk he was listening to his voicemail. A pleased smile played around the corners of his mouth when he heard Elizabeth’s voice. Seized by the urge to talk to her at once, he dialed her number.

“Hello?” a raspy voice croaked.

“May I please speak to Elizabeth?”

“She’s not here.”

“This is William Darcy. Is this Sally?”

“I think so, but I wouldn’t swear to it.”

“How are you feeling this morning?” William didn’t particularly care—he was still holding a grudge over last night—but he decided that he might as well be polite to Elizabeth’s roommate.

“Let’s not discuss unpleasant subjects.”

He wasn’t surprised that Sally seemed to have a wicked hangover. “Sorry to disturb you when you’re … not feeling your best. Do you know when Elizabeth will be back?”

“No. She left a note saying she’d be out running errands for a while. Wanna leave a message? Please say ‘no,’ because my vision is so blurry that anything I wrote would probably look like hieroglyphics.”

“That’s okay. I’ll see her tonight anyway.”

“You don’t mean that you’re coming to the party?”

“Yes, she invited me. Is that a problem?”

“No … no. I’m just surprised she—well, never mind. Guess I’ll see ya tonight, then.”

“Good bye.”

William hung up the phone, wondering why Sally considered it so surprising that Elizabeth had invited him to the party.

“William?”

He looked up to see Rose standing at the door to his office.

“Gran, how are you this morning?”

“Quite well, and you?” She crossed the room and seated herself in front of his desk.

“I’m fine.”

“Mrs. Reynolds said you didn’t look well after your run.”

“I’m absolutely fine, Gran,” William replied in a tone that discouraged further questions.

“Are you ready for the meeting with the school district people?”

“Yes. I assume we’re going to meet in the library.”

“That’s right. I asked Mrs. Reynolds to set things up in there.”

William nodded, trying to suppress a pleased smile. He liked the idea of gazing out into the garden and remembering how Elizabeth had looked standing there last evening. The only problem is, I may have trouble concentrating on the meeting.

“Did you enjoy your evening?” Rose asked.

“Yes, very much.”

“I appreciate that you and Ms. Bennet took some time to speak with me. I know you weren’t enthusiastic about that plan, and I’m sure Ms. Bennet felt the same way.”

“No, actually, she was the one who talked me into going downstairs to see you,” William replied, anxious to defend Elizabeth. “If it had been up to me, we would have stayed on the roof till it was time to leave.”

“I must tell you that I am concerned about this situation. You seem quite taken with her, yet we know very little about her or her family.”

“You have nothing to worry about. She’s moving to California the day after tomorrow.”

“I see.” She paused, scrutinizing him carefully. “Well, on another subject, I need you to represent us at the Dalton Foundation reception tonight.”

“I’m sorry, Gran, but I have plans this evening.”

“I’m afraid you’ll need to change them. Joanna Barton’s husband died, and the viewing is tonight. Of course I have to be there.”

He clenched his jaw. “Couldn’t you just go from there to the Dalton reception?”

“Certainly not. I’d have to change clothes in between, so I’d be much too late arriving.”

“But, Gran, you don’t understand.”

William knew he sounded like a whiny child, but he was desperate to avoid attending the Daltons’ reception. It was bad enough that it would interfere with his plan to spend the entire evening with Elizabeth. In addition, Mitzi Dalton rarely missed an opportunity to attempt to seduce him. The fact that her wealthy, and much older, husband frequently observed her aggressive pursuit had done nothing to deter her, nor had William’s constant discouragement. But how do I tell my grandmother that I can’t go because I’m afraid of being molested by the hostess?

“Please, don’t argue, William. Someone from the family needs to be there. Eleanor and Robert are in the Hamptons for the week, and I certainly can’t send Richard after what happened last year.”

He almost snickered, all too familiar with the events to which Rose referred. One evening at a party at the Dalton home, Mitzi, frustrated by William’s rebuffs, had turned her eye on Richard, who had been more receptive than his cousin to the advances of the curvaceous blonde. Her husband had caught them together in an upstairs bedroom later in the evening, and since then Richard had been persona non grata at events hosted by the Dalton family.

“All right,” he sighed. “But I’m only going to make a quick appearance, and then I’m leaving.”

“Very well, I suppose that will suffice. I assume your plans have something to do with Ms. Bennet?”

“Yes. But tonight is probably the last time I’ll see her in a long while, so you needn’t worry.” He was unable to keep the bitterness out of his voice.

“William …” Rose began, her voice suddenly gentle. Then she shook her head and sighed. “The reception is at the Dalton home, starting at 8:30. Black tie.”

The same start time as Elizabeth’s party. And unless I want to show up there in a tux, which I certainly don’t, I’ll have to go home to change first. Wonderful. Just wonderful.

Despite his discontent, William understood his duty to the family, so he kept these thoughts to himself. “Please give Mrs. Barton my condolences when you see her.”

“I will. Shall we go downstairs?”

“You go ahead, Gran. I’ll be down in a few minutes.”

Rose departed, leaving a thoroughly frustrated William alone in his office. He was heartily sick of the way fate seemed to be conspiring to keep him apart from Elizabeth. But I have to be honest. Fate isn’t my worst enemy—I am. If I’d stayed out of the situation with her job, she wouldn’t be leaving New York. Instead, I have to say goodbye to her tonight, when all I want to do is wrap her in my arms and never let her go.

He began to call her to tell her he would be late for the party, but then he realized that he would probably just reach Sally again, a pointless exercise to say the least. I’ll call later; maybe Elizabeth will be home by then.

The house phone rang—it was Mrs. Reynolds, informing him of the arrival of their visitors. His expression dark and brooding, he trudged downstairs to join the group assembling in the library.

“No, you simply can’t go yet. I won’t hear of it. For one thing, you haven’t played for me, and you know how I adore hearing you play. Why don’t we get you some more champagne, and then you can play something.”

William’s lips compressed in a thin line as Mitzi Dalton grasped his arm, her eyes devouring him. It was almost 9:30, and he was still trapped at the reception, despite several attempts to make a polite exit.

“Mitzi, you know that I rarely play at parties.” His statement sounded haughty even to his own ears, but he was past caring.

“No problem. I have a new piano upstairs—did I tell you that? Let me take you up to see it. You can give me a private concert.” Her half-lidded stare made it clear what sort of performance she had in mind.

Drawing his protective cloak of indifferent reserve tightly around him, he replied, “No, thank you. And in any case, as I’ve told you several times, I have another event to attend, and I must go.”

“Now, what could another party offer that you can’t get right here?” Mitzi stepped closer. She glanced seductively at her cleavage, which threatened to spill from her low-cut red dress, clearly inviting William’s perusal. “As your hostess, I’m willing to do absolutely anything to make sure you enjoy yourself. And I do mean anything,” she purred.

He ignored the overt display and firmly removed his arm from her grasp. “Perhaps you should see to some of your other guests.”

One of the caterers approached Mitzi to ask a question, and William took the opportunity to escape while her attention was diverted. He stepped out the door and headed for the elevator, taking a deep breath. Free at last.

He whipped out his cell phone—this was one of the few situations in which he was glad to have it—and dialed Allen’s number. His expression grew dark as Allen explained that he was outside the Bartons’ building waiting for Rose and couldn’t come to fetch William at the moment. That left two unattractive choices—to wait for Allen, further delaying his arrival at Elizabeth’s party, or to try to hail a cab.

Okay, a cab it is. William returned his cell phone to his pocket and stepped to the curb, scanning oncoming traffic for an available taxi.

Forty-five minutes later, William was seated in yet another cab, on his way to Elizabeth’s party. Everything that could possibly go wrong had happened that evening. If I were a cartoon character, steam would be pouring out of my ears right now.

It had taken an inordinate amount of time to get a cab outside of Mitzi’s apartment building, despite the doorman’s assistance. Once back at his house, he had raced up the steps, taking them two or even three at a time, yanking off his jacket and bow tie as he strode rapidly down the hall to his bedroom.

William had changed clothes quickly, only to discover a small tear in the armhole of the new black sweater he had purchased earlier that afternoon at Saks. His frustration had begun to hover around the boiling point, but he had retained sufficient composure to ask Mrs. Reynolds for help. A needle, black thread, and a quick but skillful repair job by his faithful housekeeper had set William’s world back on its axis again, at least temporarily. Now he was in his second cab of the evening, amidst a sea of bright taillights and car horns. Judging from the flashing lights and police cars ahead, they were being delayed by a roadblock of some sort.

His jaw muscles ached from all the clenching they had been called upon to do this evening. He pressed his lips together tightly, exhaling loudly through flared nostrils as he thought of the evening as he had originally imagined it unfolding.

I was going to pick Elizabeth up at her door, kiss her all the way down in the elevator, and ride to the party in the back seat of the car with her snuggled up next to me. I was going to spend the whole evening by her side, and then take her back to her apartment and make love to her for the rest of the night. And instead, I’ve been fighting off Mitzi Dalton’s octopus hands and trying to hail cabs so they can drive me into traffic jams.

Traffic ahead of them was finally beginning to move, but William felt a sense of hopelessness. Things were going badly this evening, and he suspected that his problems weren’t over. The cab driver picked that moment to prove him right by asking a simple question.

“Where you go?”

William frowned for a moment, interpreted the driver’s slightly fractured English, and then answered, “MetroMania. It’s a club in SoHo.”

“You know what streets?”

“I thought when I got in the cab you said you knew where it was.”

“I know where SoHo, yes. Am new here, don’t know Metronia.”

“Well, neither do I.” William had left these details to Allen, having no idea that he would have to fight his way downtown in a taxi.

“I need know what streets.”

William reached into his pocket to retrieve his cell phone and call Allen, and discovered that in his haste he hadn’t transferred the phone from his tuxedo pocket. This just keeps getting better.

“Can’t you call someone and find out the address?” he asked the driver, the knot in his stomach threatening to explode.

“Please, what streets?”

“Just take me to SoHo,” William snapped. “I’ll find it once I’m there.”

He sat back in his seat, his arms folded across his chest, his eyes blazing with frustration. What a wonderful way to spend an evening, especially since it’s my last evening in New York with the woman I love. And next I’ll have to wander around SoHo, looking for the club or a pay phone. Fantastic.

He could find only one source of comfort, but it was a substantial one —at least he was finally on his way to see Elizabeth. And once I get there, it will all be worth it. This thought proved to be a soothing balm for his soul, and soon a much calmer William Darcy stared out the window of the cab as it progressed toward SoHo … and Elizabeth.

Copyright © 2006 by the author Last updated August 30, 2006