Beautiful friendship, p.114
Beautiful Friendship, page 114
offered him.
She wasn't used to taking the lead, physically. It made her feel vulnerable and powerful at the same time.
She drew back, looking him in the eyes. "Fitzwilliam, is this---am I--"
Elizabeth whispered, licking her lips. She wasn't even sure what she was
asking him. "Is this okay?"
"Yes," he whispered, before capturing her lips again.
His mouth was coaxing her onward, but once again he encouraged Elizabeth
set the tone this time. As her confidence grew, it felt more like an equal
exchange. Passion for passion; heat for heat. Long kisses built, spark after spark. Instinct took over as she clung to him, gripping the knit of his
fisherman's sweater between her fingers. As if she was right on the cusp of
tearing it apart. Or tugging it off.
It was then, right at that moment, that Will drew back. "Elizabeth--" he whispered.
"Yes?"
He needed a minute to gain control of his impulses. She stared up at him,
breathless, vulnerable. Waiting. She was so beautiful, she kicked the air right out of his lungs. If he pushed her away, she'd feel rejected. If he let her
continue, he'd lose his mind. And his self control.
Gently, slowly, he slid his hands down her arms. Even now, he was aware of
the medication still filtering out of her blood. The risk.
She had accepted his kisses, but this was the first time she'd had the confidence to kiss him first. He was proud of her. He wanted--he needed--Elizabeth to
have confidence in her own desires. As for how he was going to encourage
that, and keep hold of his own restraint in the process? They'd figure that out as they went along.
"You're beautiful," he spoke at last.
The remark wasn't a ploy. It was the simple truth as he saw it, as well as the best answer he could think to give. But it did make her pull gently away,
laughing as she did so. "Will..."
"I don't think I say it enough," he admitted honestly.
"I just-I don't know how to answer you." She walked to the fridge, pulling a carton of freshly stocked soup out.
"You could just agree with me," he said mildly. He wouldn't tell her he was grateful for the distance. He needed a minute to calm down. More than a
minute. He wandered over to their wall of photos.
"Wait till you see my cousin Jane," she called out. "She's the real beauty of the family. There should be a picture of her up there somewhere."
"I hadn't noticed," he admitted.
"Really? She's the only cousin I have. Blond. Willowy. Blue eyes."
At Elizabeth's instance, he studied the photos again. Ah, here was one. A blond with long hair, hugging Elizabeth. He squinted, examining the photo. Yes, Jane Bennet was pretty enough, he decided. Mostly he thought this because he saw
hints of Elizabeth in her features. A blonder, less vibrant version of Elizabeth.
Much, much less beautiful.
"Isn't my cousin lovely?" Elizabeth prompted. Behind him, he heard her put a soup pot on the burner, clicking the pilot light on.
"She's not you," was his diplomatic response.
"Than I won't worry about her stealing your heart when you meet her at
Killian's wedding?" she teased.
"No chance of that," he murmured. "There's a different picture of you here...you're holding a trophy. When was this?"
"Oh...um..." She sounded self-conscious. "It's the Three Villages Regatta."
"It's a contest?"
"Yes, for sailing. Ballydeirc hosts it every summer. The kids from the
neighboring villages take part as well."
"And you won it," he finished. "Out of everyone, including your own brothers, you won the trophy."
Three times, she thought as she stirred the soup. She'd won it three times
between the ages of twelve and seventeen. She could speak freely enough
about her dancing. It was the rest of her life she hesitated boasting about. She didn't know why.
"Could you tell me about some of these other pictures?" Will asked.
The clam chowder was pre-made. It needed little attention. She moved over to the cutting board. She began cutting a loaf of fresh bread she'd brought aboard.
Then she moved to apples. "There's not much to tell."
"I disagree," he said. "When was the last time you went snorkeling?"
"Oh, I don't know..." she said as her knife sliced through a shining red apple.
"I'd have to think about it."
"It's that recent, huh?"
"Five years, I guess. Not since I earned my contract to dance in Dublin..." Not since the world of the ballet took over her life, she realized suddenly. "After that, well...there was never time. There was always something else to train for.
Some new show to work on."
He was noticing a trend. Before Ballet, and After. The more the art took over her life, the less of a life she seemed to have. He was strolling back towards her. "But what if you did have the time?"
"It's not a very practical thought," she said, looking up at him. "The ballet season runs until late summer. Even if I'm not with the British Opera Ballet, once I'm feeling stronger I'll have to start training again. And then, after the new year, I'll start auditioning for smaller companies."
"I thought you were coming to terms with not dancing for the British Opera."
"Yes," she agreed cautiously, surprised by the serious turn in the conversation.
"But ballet's still a huge part of my life, Will."
"But not the only part. You told me that yourself."
"I know, but--" She began chopping again, more forcefully now. "It's complicated. You know that. You just went to Paris to try to argue my cause to Bertram."
"Yes," he agreed. "I regret my failure to persuade him. But I did it because I thought it was what you wanted."
"Of course it was what I wanted," she said, a touch snappishly.
"So my question is, what else do you want?"
"I--" Trapped between a concession on one hand, an argument on the other, and that deep, dark gaze of his, she said the only thing her pride would allow. "This conversation was more fun when words weren't involved."
"For both of us," he said evenly. "But the question stands. When was the last time you did something you wanted to do? Just for yourself?"
"Five minutes ago," she said primly. "You were my test subject."
Gentleman though he was, he couldn't conceal his wolfish grin. "Well, that's a cause I'm willing to offer myself to."
"Good," she laughed, setting her knife down. "Are you hungry? We should eat..."
"In a minute. When was the last time you went on a holiday?"
"Well, my time here is a holiday, isn't it?" Elizabeth shrugged. "Sort of. I mean, you know, it's...family. As for a real vacation...well, who doesn't dream of a weekend trip to--"
"To where?" he pressed.
"I don't know-Vienna or something. But it's just not possible."
"It is for me." That declaration, and the frankness with which he spoke it, prompted her to offer an arched look. "I have an apartment in Vienna. We could go there."
"But-but-" An apartment in Vienna. She vaguely recalled mention of a properties in France and Italy as well. She knew he was rich, but honestly. Did the man hopscotch around Europe collecting real estate the way other people
collected postcards?
"I go there sometimes for business," he continued. "Next time a meeting comes up, I could take you along. If you were interested, that is..."
Well, who wouldn't be interested in going to Vienna? She studied his face; she saw no apologies and no hesitation. For him, this was a simple, straightforward proposition. Like he was offering her a mini-break in Manchester.
Like a mini-break in Manchester, only...not.
"I can't just jet off to Austria," she said.
"It seems to me that for the first time in quite a few years, you could. One weekend away when we have the time, Elizabeth. I'm not asking for a
lifetime."
There was a light in his eyes as he said that, as if he were on the cusp of adding something else. Still, the moment passed. Neither spoke further. And the
chowder was bubbling. She reached to turn off the burner.
"I'll tell you what, Will Darcy," she said, "survive the week with my family at the famously exotic 'hotel Bennet' first. Then we'll see what other propositions we can cook up together. Deal?"
"Elizabeth," he conceded this with a nod of his head. "I couldn't have said that better myself."
Once their lunch concluded, Will and Elizabeth parted ways again. Elizabeth
headed back to the wheelhouse, Will headed topside.
Deep sea fishing, he thought with more than a little caution. How hard could this be?
The Bennet brothers had set sea rods along the portside rail. Five fishing rods, all in alignment, with chairs beside each one. Will would use Magnus's rod, a sturdy, fifty-pound pole made of carbon fiber.
"You'll need one that strong," Killian informed him flatly. Killian's eyes, shielded by a pair of sunglasses, offered nothing but a reflection of sea.Will eased into a seat beside the policeman. The middle Bennet seemed to think the least of him, which made him all the more willing to plant himself right in
Killian's path. "The fish we're searching for today can weigh upwards of sixty, seventy, even eighty pounds."
Seamus stretched out in the chair to Will's left. Liam was dozing in the furthest seat on the end. Magnus served as their overseer.
"Deep sea fish are strong. Stronger than what you'll find in a harbor or a bay,"
Magnus said aloud, "because they fight against the weight of the sea, and the shifting currents."
"We're fishing for monsters, we are," Liam informed him with a grin, spreading his hands wide. "Halibut this wide."
"It can take hours to hook one," Seamus added, "and just as long to reel one in."
It took three long hours. The men spent the time discussing politics, debating football teams, and dissecting Will's background.
For Will it was an exercise in tactical evasion, delving into some topics and deliberately avoiding others. He chose not to mention his fortune, his family name. The Gardiners knew, of course, but he could trust their silence. The rest of Elizabeth's family would know soon enough. In the meantime, he'd rather be Will, just Will, judged on the merits of how well he fished and how much he
loved their sister.
Much of the conversation revolved around his knowledge of Elizabeth: when
they'd met, how long they'd dated.
"She's living in the dredges of London," Killian remarked. "In some rundown flat that the dumbest thief in London could break into on his off day. Do you approve of that?"
"Elizabeth's wellbeing is always at the forefront of my mind," Will answered.
Seeing a tug on his fishing line, he sat up. "As for her living arrangements, I trust in her ability to take care of herself. I've never met anyone so self-sufficient."
"Hooked yourself a fish, have you Will?" Magnus observed.
"Looks that way," Will muttered. The tip of the fishing rod wavered, and then bent low. The stronger the pull, the bigger the fish. This looked large enough nearly to snap the line. He pulled the rod up and wound it tight.
"It's not like Elizabeth's living alone, either, Killian," Liam pointed out.
"Although there was some change up with her roommates-" Seamus mused.
"It's been awhile, since I've checked. Does she have one roommate now, or two?"
"One," Will answered coolly "A good friend. Someone who will look out for her if the need arises."
"He's right," Elizabeth spoke from behind him. "Not that the four of you need to worry over me."
"We can't help it, lass," Seamus spoke up, lighting a cigarette as he did so.
"You'd best take care of yourself."
"Says the man currently filling his lungs with smoke. Your lovely wife would have lovely words for you about that," she said, before turning her attention to Will. "And Will's hoisting a fifty pound fish from the ocean. That might interest you, given we came out here to fish."
Liam sprung up. "Ah. It's a fine catch you've got. See how the line's
tightening?"
"Have you got it?" Seamus said. "It's a fighter. Don't let it go now."
"I'm fine," Will muttered, ignoring the fire in his shoulder that screamed otherwise.
"Liam, he's nearly reeled it in," Elizabeth spoke quickly, "Grab the harpoon for me, will you? "
The wind was picking up, spraying a sea mist against his cheeks.
"You've a feisty one on your hook," Seamus spoke up. "There's a trick in reeling it in though. You don't want it fighting you the whole way."
"They're clever creatures, and no mistake," Liam agreed from the other side.
"And heavy. Seventy pounds, do you think, Killian?"
"Feels like it," admitted Will, gritting his teeth as the rod bowed and bent again.
"We need a buoy to balance it out," Killian moved quickly to hook a red buoy on his line. "You're tiring her out, Will, but you can't give it too much fight all at once. The creature might grow angry and pull the line taut. If it breaks the line, you've lost the fight and the catch. You have to loosen the line a bit, let it relax a bit, then swoop in for the catch."
"A wee bit more--" Liam added.
"Easy does it-" warned Seamus.
"That's it," Killian agreed. He was barely aware of the surrounding conversation, or any of their movements. At least until Elizabeth climbed the rails, leaning her hips over the edge of the boat with a harpoon in one hand.
"Elizabeth--" Will said, nearly losing his focus completely.
"Ah, she's fine, lad. She won't fall," Seamus spoke with a grin. "Lizzie might not be strong enough to reel this in, but she's a steady shot with a harpoon.
She'll stake it for you. It's the last step before you pull the halibut aboard.
Wouldn't want an eighty-pound fish slapping you in the face."
Seamus was right. He watched her do it. Looking more like a modern Amazon
warrior than a dainty dancer, she pierced the halibut clear through. In one last burst of energy, Will hoisted his fishing rod up, tugging the fish to the boat.
"Brilliant," Seamus clapped him on the back once he'd dropped the fish down to the deck floor. "Let's clean him up."
Killian knelt to examine the catch. "You've a knife on you?
Magnus did. He snapped it open, handing it to his brother.
"Here's the trick, Will...you want to cut here...right by the gill," Killian advised, sliding the knife beneath the gaping gill. "And another cut here in the back--
careful not to cut too deep. Nice and even."
His hands were sore. His back was sore. His shoulder was-Will rotated it with a wince. His shoulder was a problem. It would be a bloody nightmare tomorrow.
But he didn't regret any of it. The Bennet siblings worked around him, talking and laughing and betting each other and counter betting. Prodding him to place a bet.
"What do you think, Will? Eighty pounds at least," said Liam. "I'll bet a euro on it."
"It's a fine catch, Will," Killian admitted. "A very fine catch."
"Eighty pounds is conservative. I say this fish weighs eighty-five pounds, and we'll make the bet two euros." Seamus offered a grin to Will. "And your first try, too."
"Eilis," Magnus signed to his sister, "bring us a case and some ice to pack this in. Our lone catch of the day. When we get home, we might as well make a
feast of it."
After she left, it was Liam who spoke up.
"You know, Will.." he said thoughtfully. "There's an old Irish tradition related to a man's first catch."
Will stretched his neck, hiding a wince as the muscles in his back complained right along with them. "Oh?"
"Ah, yes," Liam continued. "The tail, you see, it guides the halibut along. And so if the man who catches his first halibut consumes that tail, well, he'll have the luck of the sea for all his fishing trips ever after."
"Is that right?" Will tugged off his fisherman's gloves.
"Oh, it's a fact, lad," Seamus agreed. "But you'll have to eat it."
"Raw," Killian finished, cleaving the tail completely in one clean slice. "Here."
Magnus folded his arms, observing this, saying nothing. They all studied him, waiting. Watching. Will used his good arm to pick the fish tail up, balancing it in his hand. He lifted it, motioning as if he were bringing it to his mouth.
"To be honest..." he paused, holding up the tail with a grin, "I'm not the superstitious type. And with your sister in my life, I think I've got all the Irish luck I need." And, with a throw worthy of the pitches he'd played on, he tossed the sliced tail back to the watery horizon.
For a moment, the Bennet boys did nothing. Said nothing. And then, just as
suddenly, they all spoke at once.
"We almost had you!" laughed Liam.
"No," Will laughed. "You didn't."
"Ah, he's too clever by half!" roared Seamus.
"Liam, you're lucky he didn't shove the fish tail in your face," Magnus warned his brother with a grin. "Eating the tail, indeed. We'll have a story to tell at dinner tonight..."
"He did a fine job." Seamus clapped Will on the back in two hardy thumps. It nearly felled him completely. It was worth it, he thought. He'd earned his seat at the Bennet table. "A fine job."
"I'm buying him a pint when we get inland," Liam magnanimously.
"No, I'm buying him a pint when we get inland," Elizabeth announced her return, a grin on her face. "The rest of you can get in line."
Chapter 38 Part 2
Georgiana's palms were sweaty; her fingers were freezing. Surely some rule
should preclude both symptoms from occurring simultaneously. Oddly enough,
this was the thought Georgiana Darcy clung to as she marched herself toward
Bardwell auditorium.
She rubbed her fingers together briskly. Better the puzzle of her hot-and-cold hands than the very real fear of fainting.
What am I doing here?
It was madness. She'd only played for a crowd once in her life, at Emma and
