Fitzwilliam Darcy, Rock Star (39 page)

Elizabeth heard the phone ring as she worked at her computer. She checked the time, ten thirty. He was calling early that night. In the past week, Charles consistently called around midnight. Her heart skipped a beat as she wondered if by chance the caller wasn’t Charles, and instead the call was for her? But she could hear Jane’s voice and knew from her tone it was Charles.

Not that she really expected a call from him. Still, it didn’t mean she didn’t think about it. It was a sweet fantasy she played within her mind. Darcy would call her, his voice rich and soft in her ear, and he would tell her… what? She had trouble there. The fantasy always broke down at the point. Would he tell her he loved her? And that he was on his way to carry her off to his palace? No, he was not Prince Charming, not even in her fantasies. Would he be shy and softly ask how she was? Would he be dirty and involve her in a hot game of phone sex? She tried all of these fantasies, and none of them really fit. The only one that worked, that really made her sweat, was when she imagined she would pick up the phone and his guitar, not his voice, would answer her. Yeah, she liked that. She could see herself grabbing her own Guild and answering him. Telling him, lick by lick, what she wanted and how she wanted it.

The fantasy continued, their playing becoming more intricate and exciting, until they were playing in unison, their music loud and powerful. Then the music would fade away, and he would be there, holding her, growling her name, as he pushed himself into her yielding body. She would take him then, take him into herself and he would fill her, answering that longing, the emptiness she knew for so long.

Elizabeth’s eyes refocused on her computer screen. She licked her lips and fanned herself a little, telling herself that her discomfort was from the July weather, not her imaginings. Besides, he wasn’t going to call. She told herself again and again, like a mantra. It was fun to daydream, but she needed to focus on the here and now.

Yet even as she thought this, she wondered what it would be like to see him again. She had been so angry when
that song
had started. Angry with him, and if she was being really honest, angry with herself. She was angry because she felt needy and ignored. Then the song started and suddenly she was
not
being ignored. Elizabeth didn’t need to see his eyes. His music and his mouth were enough. She still trembled slightly at the memory. How had she managed to keep singing? How could she have stopped? Darcy played to her like no one had ever done before. It was as if he directed all the power of his playing at her. The song was just a framework for his message, which was solely her own.

What did he say to her? He wanted her. It was so pure and clear a message that it was almost overwhelming. She cried sometimes at the intense memory of his song. Yet she had never felt that it was too much when they had been together. Together, she could answer him, play with him, and stand with him. Only when she was alone did she feel weak.

She couldn’t even take shelter in the denial that served her throughout the tour. Everything seemed so clear there on the stage. She didn’t understand what happened afterward. The way he kissed her and walked away, as if he played passionate serenades to women every night.

It was his arrogance, she reasoned. He could just walk away because he had made his point. And he had, hadn’t he? Here she was, dreaming about him. Wanting him like any panting fangirl. She hated to admit it, but she’d go to him in a minute if he called and told her “meet me in half an hour.” She hated that he was right and that he knew it.

She remembered George’s warning: “Once he finds something he wants, he gets it.” She hated that Darcy messed with her head throughout their acquaintance. If only she didn’t know the truth about him. If only she didn’t know he could be so cruel. She longed to give herself to him, to trust in him, to let him take her, in every way.

She knew from the way he played, and the way he kissed, it would be explosive. Even now, as she muddled over it all, her nipples were hard. And it was so long since she had gotten laid! She wanted to just push aside all her frustrations and drive to Darcy’s house and submit to him.

It was a good plan, except for two things: One, she didn’t know where he lived, or even where he was; and two, it wasn’t a joke. He had all kinds of power over her, and she didn’t like that one bit.

If he reached out to her, called her, or even emailed her, just to talk to her and let her know he was similarly affected by what happened, she could happily surrender to him, even knowing what George told her. But she knew from his arrogance this was not to be. He might want her, but he didn’t love her. And she had no desire to be his plaything.

***

Jane answered the phone on the first ring. “Hello?” she said hopefully.

“Hey, beautiful,” replied Charles. His California accent had grown stronger over the week.

“Hi.” He could hear her smiling. “How are you doing?”

“Good. It’s been nice being home, but it will be better to get back to New York.”

“I know one person who will be happy to see you back.”

“Tell me about your day, Jane.”

“It was good. We had our record signing at Tower.”

“Did you have a good turnout?”

“Yeah, we did! I think it was our best ever!”

Charles relaxed as he listened to her voice and walked along the beach. As Jane told him about meeting her fans, he could easily picture her face, and the pain he felt at missing her was briefly dulled.

He knew the pain was a message, his heart’s way of telling him what he needed to do.

“Is that the ocean I hear?” Jane asked.

“It is,” he smiled back to her. “I wanted to be alone when I called, so I walked to the shore.”

“Oh,” Jane said. “Is your house close to the water?”

“Yes, I have a house near Muir Beach.”

“Where is that?” Jane asked, clearly delighted.

“It’s near Sausalito. It’s a nice little town. It’s remote, but I love it here.”

“It sounds nice,” she said guardedly.

Charles made up his mind. Enough was enough. He was tired of this, of them pussyfooting around each other. He was going to tell her the truth when he got back to her and hope that she would accept it. “Jane,” his voice reflected his determination. “I need to talk with you.”

“Of course,” Jane said. “Is something wrong?”

“I have to tell you something, Jane, in person. Not over the phone.”

“Is it bad?” she whispered.

“Yes, it’s bad,” he said sadly.

“Charles, whatever it is, you can tell me.”

“Jane, I will tell you, just not now. Not on the phone.”

“So, you are coming back tomorrow?” she said bravely.

“Yeah, we’re flying out of here around eight in the morning, we’ll be getting into JFK at four thirty.”

“Do you want me to meet you at the airport?” she offered.

“Oh, don’t bother,” he said tiredly. “We’re going to have the limo take us right to the apartment.”

“I could meet you there.”

Charles sighed. He had been avoiding this. “You can’t. I’ll have to get cleaned up, and then we’re expected at a De Bourgh party.”

“We?”

“Slurry.”

“Oh.”

“I’m sorry, Jane. Believe me, I would take you if I could, but it’s a media thing. We’re going to be seen and photographed before the VMAs. All the big De Bourgh names will be there.” He sighed, tired with the charade he was playing. “Jane, look, tomorrow is just not going to work, but I promise, we’ll see each other on Tuesday, and we’ll talk then.”

“Charles, what’s wrong? You sound so down. Tell me what’s going on, please.”

Charles let the ocean water wash over his feet. He could hear the frustration in her voice. “I know, Jane. I’m sorry. There’s a lot of stuff going on here, and I promise as soon as I see you, I’ll explain it all.”

“Yeah, when it’s convenient for you,” she sulked.

“Jane, please try to understand.”

“Charles, you haven’t given me anything to understand.”

Charles could see Caroline waving to him from the house. “I’m sorry, Jane. Just hang on two more days, and I’ll explain it all.”

“Okay,” Jane said dully.

“I have to go; bye, Jane.”

“Bye, Charles,” she answered and hung up. He frowned at the dial tone coming from his phone and then hurried up the beach.

***

Darcy sighed as he entered his loft. He dragged his Pullman case into the bedroom and dropped onto his bed. It was still early in the day, just as it had been early when he left Paris eight hours earlier, but he was exhausted. Sleeping on the plane had not worked, so he tried to read, but mostly he found himself thinking about her. In his mind he kissed her a hundred times. She was receptive and eager. He held her close, and together they pleasured each other again and again. His favorite image was one in which he entered her room, to find her wearing only her Gibson and a smile.

Tomorrow, he told himself. Tomorrow he would see her again, then he would know how to act. So many times he had picked up the phone to call her, he even had an email draft ready to send. But he wasn’t certain. Words with her were still hard. He didn’t trust himself not to say the wrong thing.

Playing to her was a completely different story. Tomorrow he would play to her, and she would know what he felt, what he wanted.

Darcy heard the elevator stop at his floor. Georgiana was on her way to Pemberley, so this could only be one other person. He recognized Richard’s footsteps as they entered the gallery.

“Will,” he called out.

“In here,” Darcy said, sitting up.

Richard entered Darcy’s bedroom. “How was Paris?” he asked easily.

“Great,” Darcy answered. “Georgie had a good time.”

“Good, good.”

“How was Hazelden?” Darcy asked, his tone a shade darker.

Richard shrugged. “Good,” he replied simply.

Darcy respected Richard’s privacy. After Georgiana’s graduation the previous Saturday, Richard surprised them by telling the Darcys he would not be joining them on their river cruise of Paris. Instead he would return to the clinic where he was treated for alcoholism. Richard’s decision greatly relieved Darcy; it meant that his cousin was facing his problems himself and was perhaps ready to do something about it.

“Will you be going back?” Darcy asked.

“That depends.”

“On the VMAs?”

Richard nodded. “Before I can really work out why I’m… doing this, I need to get things straight with her, but I can’t do that to Charlotte until I’ve gotten myself together.”

Darcy regarded Richard uneasily. “Sounds like a catch-22 situation.”

Richard nodded. “One day at a time, that’s all I can do.”

Darcy nodded. “I’m going to try to sleep before tonight.”

“What time is the party?”

“Eight o’clock.”

“Okay, I’ll wake you in time.”

Richard closed the door, and Darcy stripped off his clothes, climbed into his cool bed, and enjoyed the vision of Elizabeth and her guitar.

***

Elizabeth was worried. Jane looked like a wreck and moped in her room all day. Elizabeth had never seen her like this, and it was late in the day before Jane would talk about it.

“It’s Charles.”

Elizabeth guessed as much. That he was due back in New York today and Jane wasn’t seeing him clearly signaled that something was wrong.

“He told me he needs to talk to me about something important when he gets back.”

“Did he say what?”

“No, he wouldn’t talk about it over the phone,” Jane said sadly, looking at the floor. “I think he means to break up with me.”

A week ago, Elizabeth would have said that was crazy, but the week had been long and hard on both of them, and Elizabeth had become cautious. Nevertheless, she did not want Jane to worry. “Jane, I really don’t think he would do that, do you?”

“I don’t know,” Jane said softly. “He’s been sounding so down and unlike himself over the phone, and he said it was something bad.”

“Maybe it’s not you. Maybe it’s something totally different that’s bad, and it’s been getting to him.”

“Then why wouldn’t he tell me?” she asked, her eyes begging for hope.

“I don’t know, Jane,” Elizabeth said, putting her arm around her sister’s shoulder. “But I do know there is no sense in worrying about it. There’s nothing we can do but wait, right?”

Jane nodded. “I know,” she smiled weakly at Elizabeth, “I’m trying.”

Elizabeth tried to smile back but found it hard in the face of her sister’s obvious pain. She squeezed Jane tight, then heard Lydia calling to her from downstairs. “Lizzy! Phone call!”

Elizabeth reached over and picked up Jane’s extension. “Hello?”

“Hey, gorgeous,” George Wickham’s voice answered.

“George!” Elizabeth exclaimed. Jane smiled at her and lifted her eyebrows. “How are you?”

“I’m great! I just got into New York, and I wanted to make sure I would see you tomorrow at the VMAs.”