Chapter 27

The sound of a truck backfiring roused William from the not-quite-awake state in which he had been floating for several minutes. His eyelids popped open and he squinted at the weak shafts of light filtering through the curtains. The light was coming from the wrong direction, yet it seemed unlikely that his room had been remodeled while he slept. Then he remembered that he was in his aunt’s guest room in San Francisco, not at home in New York. Let’s see—it’s Sunday morning. You’d think after three days I’d be able to remember where I am.

It was early—just past 7:15. This was another change from New York—he was waking up very early in the morning. Still, despite two consecutive nights without much sleep, he felt well rested. Must have been that nap I had yesterday. He sat up, swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stretched. It would have been nice to wake up this morning the way I woke up from the nap! Returning to consciousness yesterday afternoon to find Elizabeth hovering over him, a tender light in her eyes that he hadn’t seen there before, had been a blissful experience.

He hauled himself to his feet and reached for the black silk robe lying at the foot of the bed, belting it around him as he exited the bedroom. Mrs. Reynolds was in the kitchen, juicing oranges.

“Good morning,” he rasped, clearing his throat.

She started and turned to him. “Well, good morning! My goodness, you’ve become an early bird out here in California.”

“I think I’m still adjusting to the time difference. Anyway, since I’m up, I thought I’d go to the 8:15 service at Grace Cathedral. So I’d like my breakfast in about 20 minutes, please.”

“Of course, dear. You go take a nice hot shower, and I’ll have it ready when you’re done.”

Slightly less than two hours later, William exited the cathedral at the close of the service. The air was still cool and heavy with moisture, but the fog was beginning to burn off, offering the promise of a sunny afternoon. Looks like a good day for a long walk—maybe I should explore the Japanese Tea Garden that Lizzy mentioned. Her description of the garden shrouded in fog had intrigued him, and he was curious to compare it to gardens he’d seen in Tokyo. But he wanted to see the garden with Elizabeth at his side, so he deferred that idea until another morning.

He crossed Taylor Street and followed the perimeter of Huntington Park on his way home. Wish I could go running this afternoon instead of walking. Running was an important coping mechanism for William—it helped him to manage stress and gave him time to think—and he considered walking an unsatisfactory substitute. I’ll talk to the doctor tomorrow and convince him to let me do some relaxed jogging, short distances, just to get started again.

In the meantime, he needed to plan his day. The evening was set aside for a lengthy practice session, but today he wanted some exercise for himself and for his car.

An image of the Ferrari’s unoccupied passenger seat cast a pall over his thoughts. He was a veteran of hundreds of days spent alone in unfamiliar cities, and ordinarily he didn’t mind, even preferred it that way, but now the prospect of a day spent alone made him melancholy. Still, there was nothing to be done about it. Charles was on his way back to Los Angeles, and Elizabeth was busy—too busy for him, at least. But I’ll see her tomorrow at school.

This reminder of the conservatory, even in connection with Elizabeth, wasn’t an entirely cheerful thought. It had dawned on him that over the next few months he would be traversing a minefield, and never more so than when on campus. If his relationship with Elizabeth developed as he hoped it would, concealing it from their colleagues would require extraordinary care. But if Catherine gleaned the truth, disaster was certain to follow.

Yesterday, he hadn’t told Elizabeth the full truth about his involvement in her job situation. He had rationalized his decision at the time by reassuring himself that he hadn’t lied—he had simply omitted some details. But now he was growing uneasy about the future.

Even if word didn’t spread at school, Catherine was a friend of the family and might hear the news through that connection. If Elizabeth accompanied him on future performing trips as he hoped she would, the inevitable gossip might eventually reach Catherine’s ears. And if she finds out, she’ll retaliate by telling Lizzy, in the most insulting way possible, that she would never been hired if I hadn’t funded her position here.

The obvious solution was to disarm Catherine by telling Elizabeth the truth himself. But it was too soon. Their relationship was at a fragile stage, and he feared that such a disruption would destroy the hard-won progress they had made. Elizabeth hadn’t been upset to learn that he had recommended her, but her disconcerting words about Catherine still rang in his ears: “She has no right to behave as though somebody held a gun on her and coerced her into hiring me.” Of course he hadn’t literally done that, but, like the Godfather, he had made Catherine an offer she really couldn’t refuse.

But if I can make Lizzy love me, then I can tell her the truth. Then she’ll be able to understand why I did it, and she won’t be angry.

He blinked and looked around him, momentarily disoriented, and then recognized the Stanford Court Hotel half a block ahead across the street. While engrossed in his thoughts, he had overshot his building. Feeling a bit foolish, he turned and retraced his steps. All right, then. I’ll tell her as soon as I know she loves me. And I’ll keep an eye on the situation in the meantime, in case Catherine starts noticing things.

William returned to the penthouse and went directly to his dressing room to exchange his charcoal gray suit for casual attire. A drive out of town, combined with a walk on a beach, sounded like a reasonably pleasant way to pass a long, solitary day.

A bleary-eyed Elizabeth ambled into the kitchen to fix herself some breakfast. She greeted Jane, who looked fresh and lovely in her lace-trimmed pink pajamas. Elizabeth didn’t even bother to cast a disdainful glance down at her own rumpled sleep shirt. Nobody but Jane could make cotton knit pajamas look like a Versace original, and comparison was pointless.

Elizabeth had never begrudged Jane her serene beauty; however, she had grown up under her the weight of mother’s constant reminders that she wasn’t as pretty as her sister. “But if you’d just make an effort, Lizzy, you can be quite attractive, you know,” had been Frances Bennet’s constant refrain.

As a child, Elizabeth hadn’t wanted to make an effort. She had loved to run and play outdoors, and at bedtime Jane had often been sent out to fetch her away from an impromptu game of baseball, soccer, or football with the neighborhood boys. Her wardrobe of choice had been a pair of jeans and a tee shirt; her preferred hairstyle a ponytail. Only on ceremonial occasions, and even then under extreme protest, had she ever donned one of Jane’s feminine, frilly, hand-me-down dresses.

The situation hadn’t changed that much when Elizabeth entered adolescence. She had been, hormonally speaking, an early bloomer, and it had bewildered her when the boys in the neighborhood began to tease her about the changes in her body. Embarrassment had led her to conceal her budding figure beneath a procession of shapeless, oversized blouses and shirts.

Over the years her wardrobe choices had of course broadened, but she had continued to prefer a casual and modest look—neat and appropriate to the occasion but not elaborate, and with little skin on display. Her singing, the classes she taught, and time spent with friends mattered more than dressing to the nines, or even the sixes.

But that had begun to change. Since meeting William, she had purchased more new clothes than at any other time in her life. She had finally learned that her hair could be an asset with the right sort of styling. And she felt … beautiful? Yes. I think I do. It was because of something in William’s eyes, something that sent warmth seeping through her even now.

Jane left the kitchen to get ready to go jogging, leaving Elizabeth alone with her English muffin. As she nibbled it, she replayed Jane’s advice from last night, her face a study in concentration. At last she swallowed the last bite of the muffin, nodded decisively, and reached for the telephone, hitting the “Redial” button.

“Hello?” William sounded far more alert than he had last night.

“Hi, William. It’s—”

“Lizzy! I didn’t expect to hear from you today.”

“I hope I didn’t call at a bad time.”

“Not at all. In fact, perhaps you can help me. I’m sitting here poring over a map, trying to decide where to go today. I want to take the car for a drive, and I was thinking I’d like to go for a walk while I’m out, maybe on a beach.”

“I know the perfect place. Up north of the city, in Marin County. There’s Stinson Beach, Muir Beach … just beware of Red Rocks Beach unless you want to get an eyeful … or several eyefuls, depending on how crowded it is.”

“Nude beach?”

“Uh huh. Anyhow, to get to any of the beaches, cross the Golden Gate Bridge on 101, and then take Route 1 north along the coast. It’s a gorgeous drive, custom-made for your car.”

“It sounds perfect. Just the sort of thing I was looking for.”

“But if you’re heading up that way, you’d better leave soon. Looks like it’s going to be a nice day, so lots of people will probably have the same idea.”

Elizabeth was trying to figure out how to invite herself along on this expedition when William said in a wistful tone, “I wish you’d come with me.”

“Well, as a matter of fact, that’s why I called. I was thinking about some things this morning, and I decided that I’m perfectly well prepared for school tomorrow, and there’s no reason for me to sit here all day and obsess about it. So if you’d like a navigator …”

“Absolutely! When can you be ready to go?”

His unabashed enthusiasm touched her heart. Jane was right. The key is to notice the differences. William is genuinely happy to have my company. Michael would have thought he was doing me a favor by letting me ride along. “Is half an hour okay?”

“Perfect.”

“Great. Then I’ll meet you in front of the building in half an hour. Oh, and bring a jacket or a sweater. It’s supposed to be a fairly warm day, but the weather can change very quickly around here.”

“See you in half an hour, Lizzy.”

Elizabeth hung up the phone and went to her room to get dressed, humming to herself.

California is famous for its freeways, and drivers in a hurry to get from Los Angeles to San Francisco can travel most of the way at high speeds on the I-5. But those to whom the journey matters more than the destination often head for Highway 1 instead. It hugs the dramatic coastline of central and northern California, a roller coaster of a road replete with sharp turns, climbs into the hills, and descents into valleys. The traveler passes woodlands, fields of wildflowers, and even a castle—the one built at San Simeon by William Randolph Hearst, the newspaper baron. But the star attraction is the Pacific Ocean, often crashing into rocky cliffs, sometimes lapping at sandy beaches, but always stretching to the horizon, immense and majestic.

William had never driven on Highway 1 before, but already he knew Elizabeth had been right—it was a perfect match for his car. Just a few miles after they left civilization, in the form of the town of Mill Valley, behind, they had begun to traverse the hills separating them from the coast. The road slipped in and out of a forest of towering redwoods, teasing them with occasional glimpses of the ocean at the end of a distant valley. Now the shimmering expanse of water was much closer as the road flowed down the coastal ridge like an asphalt ribbon. He felt absurdly young—a teenager cruising the highway with his girlfriend in a hot convertible, a carefree day of beachcombing ahead of them. Too bad Charles never taught me to surf—I could be a character right out of a Beach Boys song.

They made a brief stop at Muir Beach Overlook, wandering down the trail to the edge of the outcropping in order to admire the dramatic view of the coastline that unfolded beneath them. As they followed the path back to the parking area, William said, “By the way, if you’re hungry, Mrs. Reynolds sent along some snacks—fruit and cheese, more of yesterday’s cookies, and I think some bottled water and juice too.”

“Is she trying to make sure you don’t waste away to nothing?”

He rolled his eyes and nodded. “I’m sure that was part of it. Incidentally, she wanted me to pass on her apologies that it’s just a snack, not a complete lunch. She made me promise to explain that she only had ten minutes’ notice to put it together.”

“I wish I had someone like Mrs. Reynolds taking care of me,” Elizabeth sighed. “She’s wonderful.”

Maybe someday you will. “She’s disappointed that she won’t see you before she goes home.”

“Well, I wanted to ask about that. Is the dinner invitation still open?”

“Hmm. I don’t know. I’ll have to think about it.” William paused, pretending to ponder the matter. He darted a furtive glance at Elizabeth, who was clearly disconcerted by his apparent hesitation.

They arrived at the car, and he turned to her with a grin. “Okay, I’ve thought about it. Yes.”

She folded her arms across her chest. “Very funny.”

He cupped her shoulders and drew her toward him. “Lizzy, of course the invitation is still open. I’m so glad you changed your mind.”

Her arms unfolded, and her hands dropped to rest on his waist. “I didn’t change my mind—I always wanted to spend the evening with you. It’s just that the situation has changed, and now I can.”

He kissed her quickly and then released her, reaching for the car door. “What happened? I thought you had plans with Jane.”

“I do. I guess I’ve never really explained much about this reception on Monday.”

“No, you haven’t.”

Elizabeth slid into the passenger’s seat. “I suppose it sounded like I was just going there to schmooze with a bunch of lawyers.”

“No comment.” He walked around the car to the driver’s side. This was a subject he had tried not to think about, because whenever he did his mind instantly conjured up a picture of Elizabeth conversing enthusiastically with a cluster of admiring men, all asking for her phone number.

“It’s more than that. Jane does tons of pro bono work in the city, and she’s getting an award for community service. One of her friends called me a couple of weeks ago to tell me about it—they were planning to surprise Jane. But someone called Jane yesterday afternoon and told her. And now that the secret is out, I don’t have to drive her there anymore to make sure she gets there.”

William sat down behind the wheel and turned to her. “But you’re still going to the reception?”

“Of course. I’m so proud of Jane—I want to be there to applaud her. But if we drive separately, it means I can be there for the presentation, hang around for a little while longer, and then slip away.”

“So you’d go there first, and then come to dinner.”

“Yes, if that’s okay. I should be able to leave there by about 7:00.”

“It sounds wonderful, except for one thing. Get a ride over with Jane, and I’ll come and pick you up.”

Elizabeth shook her head. “Oh, no, that’s not necessary.”

“I think it is. That way, I can drive you home after dinner. I don’t want to send you home alone at night.”

“I drive alone at night all the time.”

Not when you’re with me. “Lizzy, I want to do this.”

“And heaven forbid that William Darcy should fail to get what he wants,” she said in a gently mocking tone. “Okay, you win. I still think it’s unnecessary, but I admit, it’ll be nice to have a chauffeur for the evening.”

“Good. It’s settled, then.” William reached out to start the car.

“Well … there’s just one other thing.”

His hand paused on the ignition. “Hmm?”

“I don’t want to make a bunch of work for Mrs. Reynolds. Monday is her last day in town, and I’m sure she has a million things to do. It’s my fault that this is all so last-minute. So why don’t you let me take you out to dinner. We can still stop by before or after dinner to see her.”

“Not a chance.”

“Why not?” A pronounced frown line formed between her eyebrows.

“Because Mrs. Reynolds would be offended by the suggestion that she couldn’t put together a gourmet feast for two, given 24 hours’ notice.” The idea that he would allow Elizabeth to buy him dinner was equally absurd, but it wasn’t the central issue at present.

“I’m not saying she can’t—I’m just saying she has other things to do.”

“Trust me, she’d be crushed if we had dinner anywhere but at the penthouse.”

Elizabeth bit her lip. “But I don’t want to inconvenience her.”

“It’ll be fine, really. This is going to make her day. Now, shall we head for the beach?”

Before Elizabeth could answer, William started the car and pulled out of the parking area, returning to the highway.

“He took you to the Tonga Room? You’re kidding.” Elizabeth, who was leaning back on her elbows on her beach towel, turned sideways to face him.

William rolled his eyes, though it occurred to him that it was wasted effort, since she couldn’t see his eyes behind his sunglasses. “I’m not kidding in the slightest.”

Her shoulders shook as she laughed, and even though she was laughing at him, the sweet, infectious sound soon had him chuckling as well.

As Elizabeth had predicted, Stinson Beach was a popular destination on this pleasant Sunday, but there had been no problem finding an open space on which to spread the beach towels she had brought along. The hot sun and cool ocean breeze combined to produce a comfortable temperature, and William was glad that he had chosen to wear khaki shorts instead of jeans with his polo shirt. He cast a sidelong glance at Elizabeth. She had worn shorts as well, and as he eyed her spectacular legs he was even more grateful for her choice than for his own.

Her laughter subsided, and she favored him with an affectionate smile that sent his heart careening into his ribs. “Oh! I wish I’d been there to see you! You must have been absolutely adorable, all grumpy and haughty.”

He reached out and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. His hand lingered there, his fingertips brushing the silky skin of her cheek. “I’m not sure that I completely agree with your characterization, but as long as you think I’m adorable I’d be a fool to argue.”

She laughed again, softly this time. “You need to wear a sign around your neck like the ones you see outside some of the cages at the zoo—‘Please don’t feed the ego.’”

He scowled in mock indignation. “I’m not really that bad, am I?”

“I’ve known worse. But it’s so much fun to tease you about it. So, anyway, tell me your impressions of the Tonga Room.”

“Have you ever been there?”

She nodded. “Three or four times, at least.”

“You actually went there voluntarily more than once?”

“I hate to tell you this, Mr. Darcy, but you’re going to go there more than once, voluntarily or otherwise. Why should Charles have all the fun of seeing William in Wonderland? Though I suppose your reactions wouldn’t be as much fun the second time. Did you like the tropical rainstorms?”

“Hardly.” William exaggerated his haughty attitude, hoping to provoke Elizabeth further. He had often been teased in his life—Richard and Sonya were masters of the art—but never before had he so thoroughly relished the experience.

“Oh, I bet you had a great time goggling at the place and dreaming up pithy insults, but you’d sooner die than admit it. How was the band?”

“Pathetic. I didn’t know you could still buy sheet music for some of that stuff.”

“So then I suppose you didn’t deign to get on the dance floor?” She sat up, hugging her knees to her chest.

William hesitated, scrutinizing her face in an attempt to read the purpose behind her seemingly offhand question. Is she hoping I didn’t? Is she feeling guilty because she did some dancing last night? Or is she just making conversation and doesn’t care? He couldn’t tell, so he offered a direct answer. “No. In general I prefer not to dance.”

“But you and I have danced … let’s see, three times, haven’t we? And you never seemed reluctant.”

“That’s entirely different.”

“Why?”

“Because on those occasions, you were in my arms.”

She looked down, brushing sand off her toes, but he saw her smile.

“What about you? Did you do any dancing last night?” William asked, unable to resist the question.

Elizabeth looked up and shook her head. “Char wanted to go to clubbing, but Jane and I weren’t in the mood.”

“I’m surprised. I thought you loved to dance.”

“I do,” she said slowly, “but recently I’ve found a partner I prefer, and I just didn’t feel like dancing with anybody else.”

Only through the exertion of unyielding self-control did he stop himself from engulfing her in a crushing embrace. He forced himself to be satisfied with a smile and the brief response, “I’m glad to know that you feel that way, because so do I.”

Neither one spoke for a time. William’s eyes followed the shore birds skittering along the water’s edge seeking an early supper. Seagulls swooped overhead, their distinctive cry blending with the sounds of the ocean. He leaned back on his elbows and closed his eyes, a contented smile on his face.

“Is it time for your nap?”

He opened his eyes and glanced over at her. “Don’t tempt me.”

“It’s really okay, you know.”

William shook his head. “No, it’s not. Let’s go for a walk instead.”

“Okay. And how about getting lunch after that? It’s getting late, and if I’m going to look Mrs. Reynolds in the eye tomorrow night, I need to make sure you get regular nourishment.”

He laughed, brushing the sand off his legs as he rose to his feet. “Good point.” He offered her his hands, and pulled her to her feet, and together they headed toward the water.

The beach was crowded with visitors enjoying the unusually warm weather. Dogs strained at their leashes, barking wildly at the already high-strung shore birds. Children waded into the chilly water or dug in the sand. Couples and individuals walked the beach, while others lay on beach towels, some tapping their fingers or wiggling their toes to the rhythm of the music flowing through their headphones. Up ahead, a Frisbee splashed into the water, bobbing among the gentle waves while two boys dashed across the sand to retrieve it. But William was barely aware of the noise and the festive atmosphere as he strolled along the water’s edge with Elizabeth. She was close by his side, her hand meshed with his, and that was as it should be. Nothing else really mattered.

Later that afternoon, they walked together again, this time along Muir Beach. Much smaller than Stinson Beach, it was dotted with huge rocks and featured a freshwater stream that emptied into the ocean. It was their final stop before heading for home, and Elizabeth found herself seeking excuses to linger in order to prolong their day.

In an attempt to accelerate the getting-acquainted process, she had begun to quiz William about his favorite things in different categories. She had been pleased when he entered into the spirit of the proceedings by turning the questions around on her, leading to a lively conversation that was still in progress.

“Favorite food?” she asked, as they explored the tide pools near the mouth of the stream. She waded into one, surprised at the warmth of the water. “I’m expecting it to be something spectacular.”

“Like what?”

“Oh, beluga caviar or maybe an absolutely extraordinary dessert.”

“Sorry to disappoint you, but actually it’s gnocchi.”

“You’re kidding.”

William shook his head. “Sometimes when my mother was homesick for Italy she’d go down to the kitchen and fix gnocchi. Gran didn’t like them, but Mamma and I did.” He licked his lips. “I can still taste them, made from scratch, topped with butter and Parmesan cheese and some kind of herb. Remember how you said once that tomato soup and a grilled cheese sandwich were comfort foods for you? Well, for me, comfort food means gnocchi.”

“Do you still have them sometimes?”

“Once in a while Mrs. Reynolds cooks them as a special treat for me, but it’s just not the same.” His soft voice was tinged with sadness, and she knew that he was thinking of his mother. She reached out and took his hand, and was rewarded by his tentative smile.

“How about you?” he asked. “What’s your favorite food?”

“Crabs.”

“Good choice.”

“I suppose you’re talking about king crab legs, though. I’m talking about whole crabs.”

“Dungeness crabs? They’re the local variety, aren’t they?”

She nodded. “Right, those are wonderful. But actually, even though it makes me feel like a traitor to say so, I’m partial to Chesapeake Bay blue crabs, steamed in their shells.”

William bent down to examine an unusually shaped rock lying in the sand. “I’ve never had them.”

“My aunt and uncle live in Baltimore, and I used to take the train down from New York to visit for the weekend. If crabs were in season, we’d go to this plain-looking little crab house right on the water. In good weather, we’d sit outside at a picnic table covered in heavy brown paper, and they’d bring out the crabs on cafeteria trays, encrusted with Old Bay seasoning.” Elizabeth’s eyes shone as she continued to reminisce. “I can remember some beautiful evenings, watching the sun set and the sailboats coming into the cove to moor for the night.”

“There’s something magical, almost hypnotic, about being near a body of water, isn’t there?”

“I think I relax better at a beach than anyplace else. It feels so good to just sit and listen to the waves, and watch the birds at the water’s edge.” She turned toward the ocean, her eyes fixed on nothing in particular, and sighed happily.

They left the tide pool and meandered along the water’s edge in the direction of the large black rocks at the far end of the beach. “I hope you can see Pemberley some day,” he said quietly, sounding as contemplative as she felt.

“That’s your family’s house in Barbados, right? I remember you mentioning how much you love it there.”

His eyes were on the ocean, but she could tell that he was seeing another beach, one much further away. “We used to go there quite often when I was small. But the older I got, the busier we were, and I don’t get there nearly often enough anymore. Usually just once or twice a year, sometimes even less. We were supposed to go in June, but we had to cancel.”

“Because of your illness?”

“Yes.”

“What a shame. I would think that relaxation and sunshine would have been the perfect medicines.”

“They might have been, but the doctors didn’t want me that far from a major medical center.”

She glanced at him, biting her lip. “You were sicker than you’ve told me, weren’t you?”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m going to be fine.”

Elizabeth shook her head at his evasiveness and considered pressing harder for information, but she saw a stubborn set of his jaw that told her that further questions would yield no new information. Instead, she returned the conversation to Pemberley. “What do you like to do when you go there?”

“Almost anything involving the ocean. Running, or taking long walks on the beach. Relaxing on our hilltop overlooking the water and reading a good book, or just sitting on the beach and watching the waves break. Or sitting in the hot tub until 2:00 am, listening to the sound of the ocean and gazing at the stars.”

Elizabeth closed her eyes and imagined him in the hot tub, sipping a glass of wine as he studied the starry sky. She could almost smell the fragrance of tropical flowers wafted along by the warm, humid night air. The idyllic image was enhanced by a vision his broad bare chest emerging from the steaming caldron of water. “Mmmm, that sounds wonderful. Do you go like to go swimming?”

“I swim laps in our pool sometimes. The ocean on our side of the island is a bit rough for swimming, but when it’s hot I’ll at least go into the shallow water to cool off.”

Elizabeth’s eyes were fixed on the horizon as her mind conjured up an image of William clad in nothing but a pair of drenched swim trunks that clung to him as he stepped out of the ocean and sauntered across the beach. A wave of guilt flowed over her for concocting such a lascivious fantasy, but she quickly squelched it. Why should I put him in jeans and a tee shirt on the beach? It’s my fantasy, after all. If I wanted, he could be skinny-dipping!

Those words had barely entered her mind when her imagination rewound the fantasy, this time stripping William of the swim trunks. Her eyes became huge as her imagination conjured up a dark-haired, virile Adonis, water droplets clinging to his body as he emerged from the surf and strode to a chaise lounge in the shade of a palm tree.

“Lizzy, are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she replied, trying to control the quiver in her voice. “Why do you ask?”

“You’re quiet all of a sudden.”

“I was just thinking about something.”

“Anything you want to share?”

“No, it’s not important.” I just can’t stop drooling, that’s all. She led him closer to the waves, welcoming the chilly water that lapped over her feet, and cast about for a change of subject. “What are you going to do tonight?”

“I’m going to spend the evening practicing, and try to get to bed early.”

“That sounds good. And you said you’re coming to campus tomorrow?”

“In the afternoon,” he said. “I’ve got some other things to do in the morning.”

“Come to my office when you get in,” she said. “I’ll take you on a tour.”

He smiled. “I’ll do that. By the way, while I’m thinking of it, I want to get your cell phone number before I take you home.”

“I don’t have a cell phone.”

“Really? I never knew you were a cell phone hater like I am.”

She smiled. “I’m not, really. I’ve just never gotten around to buying one. I couldn’t afford one while I was in grad school. Now I can, but since I’m not used to having one it hasn’t been a priority.”

“I just thought if you had one it would be easier for us to contact one another.”

“Until messages start disappearing again. I still don’t understand how that happened.”

“I’m going to talk to Sonya about it on Monday and ask her to switch cell phone companies. I have no patience for that sort of unreliability.”

The air was growing cooler as fog began to drift in from the ocean. Elizabeth glanced at her watch. “You know, I hate to say it, but we’d probably better be on our way back to the city. I’ve got to be dressed and ready to go by a little after 5:30.”

William turned to face her, drawing her into the circle of his arms. “We can’t go quite yet.” He removed his sunglasses, hanging them over the open neck of his polo shirt.

“Why not?” She saw his eyes darken with desire, and she knew immediately what he wanted.

“Because I need to do this first.” He bent his head, his lips velvety warm as they covered hers.

“Okay, that takes care of favorite composers. What’s the next category?” William asked, grinning.

They had been standing outside Elizabeth’s door for the past fifteen minutes, continuing their discussion of their favorite things. She needed to leave for the jazz group performance very soon or she’d be late, and she still had to shower, fix her hair, and change her clothes. But William obviously didn’t want to leave, and she couldn’t bring herself to say goodbye either.

“Favorite movie.”

“I’m not sure I want to tell you,” he said, wincing.

“Why not?”

“Because I think men my age are supposed to mention The Godfather, or an action movie, something of that sort.”

“But not you?”

William shook his head. “I’ve seen The Godfather and I enjoyed it, but to Richard it has almost religious significance. He loves to find excuses to quote from it.”

“I’ve known guys like that. And they love to imitate Brando. I must say, I can’t see you doing that. Well, then, come on, ‘fess up. If you’re not a Godfather guy, what’s your favorite?”

“The Philadelphia Story,” William said with a diffident air.

Elizabeth couldn’t believe her ears. “I love that movie! If it’s not my favorite, it’s right near the top. I can’t believe you mentioned it.”

“So you’re not going to laugh at me for choosing it?”

“Of course not. It just shows that you have excellent taste. I love the wit, and the acting is fantastic, and … you know, we should watch it together some time.”

“That sounds like a good idea.”

“And the more I think about it, I can really see why you’d like it. After all, it’s a movie about your tribe.”

“My tribe?”

“Old-money Episcopalians,” Elizabeth retorted with a sassy grin.

William’s shook his head as he chuckled. “You are a wicked woman,” he said, his attempt at a stern expression a complete failure. “If I’d had the slightest idea you were like this—”

“What would you have done about it, tough guy?” She stepped closer to him, their bodies touching lightly, energy crackling between them.

He leaned forward, his sultry half-lidded gaze on her lips. “I’d have kissed you a lot sooner.”

Her hand curled around his neck, and she felt his warm breath fanning her face. “But you kissed me the day after you met me.”

“Precisely,” he murmured, gathering her into his arms as his lips descended to meet hers. “A whole day wasted.”

On Monday afternoon, Elizabeth sat in her office fidgeting. She checked her watch: 3:10. William had called her that morning on the way to his doctor’s appointment, and had promised that he’d see her at school around lunchtime. But it was well past lunchtime and he hadn’t appeared. What if the doctor found something terribly wrong, and he’s in the hospital, and he needs me but he can’t call me? Her heart clutched in her chest, and she couldn’t sit and wait any longer.

She called his cell phone for the third time in the past hour, and for the third time it rolled to voicemail. Relax. That doesn’t mean that something’s wrong. He might have just left the phone in his car. Or maybe he forgot to recharge it and the battery died. But she couldn’t stop reminding herself that if he were in the hospital, they would probably have required him to turn off the phone.

No. He’s probably here, and he just got sidetracked with other things. I bet that’s it. I’ve been making myself miserable worrying about him, and he’s probably been down in his studio the whole time absorbed in his music.

Elizabeth accessed her e-mail, opening a message containing the fall semester faculty directory. She dialed the number for William’s studio, exhaling a loud sigh of relief when she heard a busy signal. He’s there. He just hasn’t gotten around to stopping by.

But her relief was short-lived as other possibilities occurred to her. What if the busy signal just means the phone isn’t working? Or what if the directory listed the wrong number? Her instincts continued to prod her to action, whispering that something was wrong. There was only one way to find out. She grabbed her keys and shut her office door, her quick, nervous steps echoing in the hall.

As she approached William’s studio, she saw that the door was open. Her fear dissolved when she heard his voice. Thank goodness. I was worried for nothing.

She paused outside the door, and was about to enter the room when William spoke again.

“What was the point of my providing you a detailed list of my requirements if you were going to utterly ignore it?” He spoke softly, but with tight, clipped accents that betrayed his annoyance.

“Truly, Mr. Darcy, I didn’t ignore your requests.” It was Bill Collins’s voice, infused with a plaintive note. “It’s just that I was told you probably weren’t coming in until tomorrow.”

“Perhaps you should have asked me my plans, instead of accepting the word of others.”

“Yes, you’re right, of course, and I apologize. But, you see, we had so little notice to make these arrangements—”

“I’m interested in results, not excuses. You should have expedited everything.”

“We did, sir, I assure you. The audio equipment you requested should have been delivered this morning, but it was shipped to the wrong address. I spoke to them a few minutes ago, and we’ve been promised that it will be here tomorrow. So if you can just give us one more day—”

“I suppose you’ve given me no other choice. And what about the piano? I was promised that it would be here when I arrived, and that I would be meeting with a piano technician this afternoon to make any necessary adjustments. Not only is the technician not here, but this is not the instrument I requested.”

“Again, I’m very sorry. This piano is strictly for your temporary use. We’re robbing Peter to pay Paul, you might say … or perhaps robbing Yamaha to pay Steinway?” Bill giggled weakly at his own joke, and Elizabeth had to suppress a little snicker of her own, but the quip was met with nothing but heavy silence from William.

“At any rate,” Bill continued, speaking rapidly, a distinct quaver entering his voice, “we’re giving you the piano from our recital hall. It’s a marvelous instrument and I know you’ll be pleased with it. But we need to shift some other pianos around to replace it, and we couldn’t do that yet because—”

“Just fix it, Collins. I don’t care to hear the details. In any case, you should have informed me so that I could have avoided a wasted trip here to meet with the technician. Catherine de Bourgh is going to be very displeased when she hears about this.” Elizabeth was increasingly astonished by William’s dark, resentful tone, considering the relative triviality of the problem.

Bill’s voice took on a note of panic. “Please, Mr. Darcy, allow me to fix this without involving Dr. de Bourgh. I assure you that I will personally make certain that—”

Elizabeth had heard enough. She stepped into the room. “Hi, guys.”

Both men stared at her. The cold, hard expression in William’s eyes softened as his gaze rested on her, but the tension in his jaw and the rigid set of his shoulders remained. He was standing beside a Yamaha baby grand piano, his arms crossed over his chest, every line on his face communicating haughty disdain.

“Elizabeth,” Bill said with an attempt at a smile, “it’s so good to see you again so soon.” Since William hadn’t appeared by lunchtime, Elizabeth had accepted Bill’s invitation to share his table in the cafeteria.

“Was there something you wanted, Elizabeth?” William’s voice wasn’t precisely cold, but neither did it hold any warmth.

“I just dropped by to say hello, to welcome you to the conservatory on your first day. But I see I’m interrupting something. Is there a problem?”

“I was just apologizing to Mr. Darcy—we’re a bit behind schedule in getting his studio set up. You may recall, at lunch today I was telling you about the situation with the pianos.” Bill fidgeted with the ring of keys in his hand, the jangling noise adding to the tension that hung in the room.

“Well, I know you’ll have everything in place very soon, won’t you?” she said, offering Bill an encouraging smile. “And I know that William—”

“Elizabeth, please let me handle this,” William said, speaking slowly and with emphasis.

Bill sidled toward the door. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to check on our progress with the pianos. Perhaps I can get the matter resolved before the end of the day. And if not, your piano will be here first thing in the morning. And we’ll have a piano technician—the finest one in the city, I assure you—at your disposal whenever it’s convenient for you. Just let me know when you’d like to come in, and I’ll make the arrangements. And, again, sir, I apologize with all my heart. You’re absolutely right that Dr. de Bourgh would find these failures very vexing, and I assure you that I shall not rest till the matter is set right.” With a little nod to Elizabeth, Bill decamped hastily.

Elizabeth shut the studio door and turned to William, whose face communicated utter disgust. “What’s the matter?” she asked.

“Isn’t it obvious? I travel across the continent and arrive here only to be faced with gross incompetence. It’s inexcusable that I’m being treated this way.” This was the imperious, spoiled William Darcy she remembered from her earliest encounters with him.

“Well, I understand that it’s an annoyance. But he said you’d have everything by tomorrow.”

He shook his head, his eyes resentful. “So you’re taking Collins’s side.”

She bit back a flash of anger and said calmly, “This isn’t about taking sides. I just think you were awfully rough on Bill over a minor matter.”

“A minor matter? I arrived here to find that nothing was as I had requested it.”

Elizabeth had a strong sense that something else was wrong. William was a difficult customer who expected first-rate service, and yesterday at lunch she had seen him dealing with an unacceptably long wait for their food. He had shown no anger, no emotion at all, in fact—he had simply demanded what he wanted, emphatically but in a state of perfect calm. His barely controlled fury now seemed excessive, particularly since he had sounded relaxed and cheerful on the phone just a few hours before.

She approached him, hoping that at closer range she could reason with him. “Granted, Bill didn’t manage things very well. And he can’t pull a Ferrari out of a hat the way Sonya can. But why are you treating it like such a calamity? You’re not using your studio to teach yet. And you’ve got a piano at home for practicing. What difference does it make if it’s ready tomorrow instead of today?”

“It might make no difference to you, but it’s insulting to treat a person of my stature this way. And in any case, this is not your concern, Elizabeth, so I suggest that you drop the subject.”

Elizabeth glared at him, hands on her hips. “You’re telling me to mind my own business?”

William squared his shoulders, his intense stare nearly pinning her in place. “I’m saying that this is a business matter, and you’re unaware of the nature of my agreement with the school. So perhaps you should leave this to me, before I start wondering why you’re so anxious to defend Bill Collins.”

Her eyes blazed. “And what is that supposed to mean?”

He swallowed, and the fire in his eyes cooled somewhat. “Nothing. I … I probably shouldn’t have said that.”

“What I was doing,” she spat out, “was trying to get you to stop bullying the poor man. But perhaps you think a person of your stature is entitled to be rude and overbearing to little people like Bill … and me.”

He stared at her, a bemused expression on his face. His lips parted slightly as though he wanted to speak, but couldn’t quite find the words.

Elizabeth, who was having no problem with word selection, continued. “I came down here because I was worried sick about you. You said you’d be here around lunchtime, and I’ve been waiting for you all afternoon. I was starting to think that something terrible had happened, that you might be lying in a hospital bed somewhere. And instead I find you ripping poor Bill Collins to shreds. So, I’ll tell you what, I’ll start minding my own business right now. In fact, why don’t you just forget that I was ever here.” She marched to the door and yanked it open.

“Lizzy, wait.”

“No. When you’re ready to have a civilized conversation, I’ll be in my office.”

“Please don’t go.”

“Why shouldn’t I?”

“Because I’m …” He paused, took a deep breath, and continued in a quieter voice. “I’m ready to … have a civilized conversation.”

She turned, standing in the doorway, and gave him a cool, appraising look. “Okay, I’m listening.”

He quickly covered the distance between them and drew her back into the room, shutting the door behind her. She allowed him to lead her to a comfortable sofa in one corner.

“You know,” she remarked with pointed sarcasm, “you have no idea how good you have it here, even if they haven’t handed over the school’s best piano to you quite yet. My office is too small for an armchair, much less a nice couch. But, then, I’m not a person of your stature.”

“I didn’t mean it that way. I’m sorry if I sounded …”

“Arrogant? Conceited? Offensive?”

He sighed, his eyes on the ceiling. “All right, yes, if I sounded … like those things.”

She didn’t answer, only partially mollified. He had said some other things that still required an explanation and apology. But just as she opened her mouth to question him further, he turned to her, and she was shocked into silence by the dark misery in his eyes. She could also see how pale and tired he looked.

“I’m sorry, Lizzy,” he mumbled. He leaned forward, burying his head in his hands and massaging his forehead.

“William, what’s wrong? Are you feeling all right?”

He looked up at her, hesitating. After a long pause, he spoke in a halting voice. “Well … actually, no. I’ve had a bad headache since late this morning, and …” He closed his eyes.

In a flash of insight, the pieces fell neatly into place. “You got bad news from the doctor, didn’t you?”

He leaned forward again, his elbows resting on his thighs, hands clasped tightly together, and at first he didn’t answer. She reached over, running a gentle hand down his back, feeling the tense muscles bunched up under her fingers. The poor man. She set aside her annoyance at his behavior and slid closer to him, wrapping her arm around him.

To her surprise, he leaned over and rested his head on her shoulder with a deep sigh, as though his defenses had just crumbled. “I’m sorry, Lizzy. It’s been a terrible day, and … well, I’m just sorry, that’s all. I still think Collins is an incompetent jackass, but I never meant to take out my frustrations on you.” He rubbed his forehead again.

“I’m sure you’ve taken something for your head?”

He nodded. “But sometimes the pain relievers don’t work.”

“Would it help to lie down?”

“It might,” William said, squeezing his eyes shut as he rubbed his temples. “That’s the thing. I wanted to go home after I left the doctor’s office. But I had agreed to come here to meet with the piano technician, and then they weren’t even ready for me. And it’s not as though I can take a nap on campus.”

“Yes, you can,” she said. “Why don’t you stretch out on the sofa and rest?”

“Because I want to sit next to you, and I’d take up the whole sofa by myself.”

“I have a solution.” Elizabeth nudged his head off her shoulder and scooted down to the far end of the couch, setting a loose pillow on her lap. “Will this work?”

The tension lines around his eyes softened. “Mmm, I like this plan.” He kicked off his shoes and stretched out on his back on the couch, his head sinking onto the pillow on her lap, his feet sticking out over the arm of the sofa at the other end.

Elizabeth stroked his hair with gentle fingers. “Close your eyes,” she whispered. She massaged his forehead softly, engulfed by a wave of tenderness that wiped away the last traces of the annoyance she had felt just a few minutes before.

William’s eyes drifted shut, a beatific smile on his face. “Mmmm. This is the best pain reliever in the world,” he murmured. “I feel better already.”

For a few minutes, neither spoke. Elizabeth continued her gentle ministrations to his forehead, her other hand resting lightly on his chest, where she felt the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. From his relaxed, deep breathing, she began to suspect that he had fallen asleep. But as she looked down at him, admiring his dark, thick eyelashes as she had done the day of their picnic, his eyelids fluttered open and she nearly drowned in the warm intensity of his cocoa-brown eyes.

He reached up, toying with a lock of her hair. “I wish all medical treatments were this pleasant.”

“Speaking of medicine, tell me about your visit to the doctor.”

William shook his head slowly. “That won’t help me to relax.”

“Please? I’m worried about you and I’d really like to know what the doctor said.”

He closed his eyes, and at first it seemed that he wasn’t going to answer, but then he began to speak. “Dr. Salinger wasn’t as optimistic as Dr. Rosemont, my cardiologist in New York. He thinks my recovery is going to be much slower than we were expecting. He doesn’t think I can resume my touring schedule in November. And there are … things Dr. Rosemont told me I was healthy enough to do, but Dr. Salinger disagrees.”

“Like what?” she asked, caressing his stubble-roughened cheek.

He looked up at her and opened his mouth to speak, but then shook his head. “Never mind. What worries me is, what if this is the best I’m ever going to be? What if I can’t ever tour again, or go running, or … do other things that normal men can do?”

Oh, my gosh, I bet the doctor told him he shouldn’t have sex right now. Elizabeth was trying to decide whether or not to admit that she understood his meaning when she saw a single tear slide out of his eye and down the side of his face toward the pillow on her lap. She dabbed the tear away, stroking his cheek. “William, he didn’t actually say that you weren’t going to get better, did he?”

“No. He just said it’s going to take quite a while, based on the limited progress I’ve made so far. He wasn’t even willing to give me a time frame for resuming touring.”

“I’m so sorry—I know how important that is to you. But you know how doctors are. They don’t like to be pinned down to specific prognoses. And Dr. Rosemont did tell you that it might take six months or more. You’re the one who decided that was too long.”

“But what if the doctors are wrong? What if I’m not making progress because I’m going to be this way for the rest of my life?”

Elizabeth was torn between wanting to hold him and comfort him, and wanting to reason with him. She opted for a compromise, running one hand slowly down his arm and capturing his hand while saying, “But can you honestly tell me that you’ve been taking care of yourself? Maybe that’s why your progress is slower than you were hoping for. Maybe you need to do a lot less running around town and a lot more resting.”

He sat up partway, supporting his weight on his arms, lines of tension evident around his eyes and mouth. “I can’t just sit in a chair all day long and do nothing. Besides, I need some exercise to keep my circulatory system from getting even weaker.”

“Okay. But exercising doesn’t mean climbing Telegraph Hill. And you can’t be staying up till three in the morning and then getting up at eight.”

“I suppose you’re right. I just … I want my life back. I want to give concerts, and go running, and …” He sighed, lowering his head to the pillow on her lap.

She caressed his hair tenderly and spoke in a gentle but firm voice. “I understand. It must be very painful to have these things taken away from you, even temporarily. But, William, you seem to think that you can just order your body to obey you and your problems will vanish. The sooner you admit that you can’t, the sooner you’ll start doing the things you need to do in order to get better.”

“You sound like Sonya again.”

“That’s because we’re two brilliant, sensible women.” Elizabeth said with a jaunty grin.

“Indeed you are,” he replied, a tiny smile flitting across his face.

“And I think you should make this Dr. Salinger, or whatever his name is, choke on his pessimistic predictions. Start doing everything the doctors have told you to do, and really commit to taking care of yourself, and I bet before long you’ll show him some serious progress. And I’m going to help you any way I can.”

William sat up, his eyes full of an emotion she couldn’t quite identify. “You are an amazing woman,” he whispered, and suddenly his mouth was on hers in a long, deep, unhurried kiss. Elizabeth sighed, a soft, throaty sound born of the sweet intimacy of the moment, and her arms went around his neck.

When their lips finally parted, they stayed close together, foreheads touching, her arms still around his neck. He kissed the tip of her nose and murmured her name in a deep, caressing tone that sent a shiver through her.

“How are you feeling?” she asked, shivering again as his lips rambled along her jaw, heading for her ear.

“Much … much … much better,” he answered, punctuating each word with a kiss on the jaw or a light nibble on her ear lobe.

She drew in a shaky breath. “Is your headache gone?”

He didn’t answer, too busy tracing a path of hot, moist kisses down her neck.

The sensations he was creating in her were electrifying, but then she heard footsteps in the hall and became vividly aware of their surroundings. “William, we’d better stop this. The door isn’t locked, and if someone came in …”

He raised his head reluctantly. “I guess you’re right. This isn’t exactly discreet, is it?” He sat up and turned to her, a rueful smile on his face. “Oh, well. At least I’m going to have you all to myself tonight.”

“Maybe it would be better if you just went home and got some sleep tonight. We can have dinner on Tuesday instead.”

“No. I’m starting to feel better. Besides, Mrs. Reynolds is counting on seeing you. I think you can depend on getting minute instructions on the care and feeding of William Darcy.”

Elizabeth suspected—and hoped—that his prediction was accurate. She knew she could count on Mrs. Reynolds for a more candid assessment of William’s situation than he had provided himself. “All right, then, dinner is still on. But I have some conditions.”

“Let’s hear them.”

“First, I want you to go home right now and take a nap.”

“Okay,” he said, as they stood up. He flashed a flirtatious smile. “I don’t suppose I could talk you into coming with me. I rather liked the pillow I had just now, and I bet it would help me to sleep.”

She handed him the sofa pillow. “Here you go.”

“You know perfectly well that’s not what I meant.”

“Sorry, but the rest of your pillow has to go to Jane’s reception. Come on—let me walk you to your car.”

“So you can make sure I keep my promise and really leave campus now?”

She led the way to his studio door. “Exactly.”

As they followed the hallway toward the doors to the parking lot, William said, “You’d better tell me the rest of the conditions.”

“We’ll make it an early evening.”

“All right. As long as it’s not too early. What else?”

“Don’t come to the reception to pick me up. Use that time to get some extra rest. That’ll save you the trouble of taking me home, too.”

They passed through the doors together into the parking lot. “You really don’t need to walk me the rest of the way,” he said. “I’m going home, I promise.”

He leaned forward as though to kiss her, but stopped abruptly when a faculty member came through the doors, nodding to them. They stepped apart, exchanging rueful smiles.

“Bye, Lizzy. Enjoy the reception.”

“Thanks, I’m sure I will. Get some rest, and I’ll see you later.”

“I’m looking forward to it.”

“Me too.”

She stood in the parking lot and watched until he drove away. Then she returned to her office to finish preparing for her Tuesday classes. On the way down the hall, she noted that she couldn’t seem to stop humming to herself. I’d better not do that around Jane or Char, or they’ll try to use it as proof that I’m falling in love.

Hmm …

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