The darcy files, p.13
The Darcy Files, page 13
“Are you kidding? That girl is awesome. She’s been keeping me in the loop. Now it’s your turn. I want details about the Logan chick.”
“I don’t have any to give at this point because I’m still sketching her character,” which wasn’t a lie.
“That’s not what your sister says. She tells me you’ve dropped quite a dime to interview her.”
“Right, and I’ll send you the receipts for reimbursement. The things I do for you.”
“Fine. Tell me the truth, how’s the book coming?”
“My research didn’t go as expected today, but I’ll be seeing her next Sunday. But on the flip side, I’ve written eleven chapters. It’s golden, Charlie. Really golden.”
“I hear she is, too.”
“She’s attractive, but she’s nothing more than a research tool. I’m not tempted in the least for anything else.”
“We’ll see. Reagan started that way, too.”
“And you just made my case.”
“Can you at least e-mail me a synopsis, so I have something to tell Caroline and the cover designer?”
“Sorry, no can do.”
“Jeez. Okay, I guess I’m gonna have to trust you on this.”
“All I can tell you is...Death Knell is out of my comfort zone, and I broke a few genre rules, but I think it’s the perfect ending for Alex Logan. I’m convinced that not only will you have a bestseller, but...after this...I can write anything.”
“Oh, now you have my attention! You know, I have to come down to the West Village in two weeks with Caroline. If you’re still in the city, let’s meet for lunch to discuss your future without Logan.”
“Ditch Caroline, and you have a deal. Listen, if I promise to get this done in two weeks will you do me a huge favor?” he asked.
“Yeah, sure, anything.”
“Can you call in a favor for next Sunday?”
“Oh, ho! Sunday! You’re seeing the prostitute on Sunday!”
I’m going to kill you, Gigi!
“Yes. I’m seeing Liz and she has a thing for books.”
“Kinky. Does she have a thing for authors, too? Maybe a little somethin’-somethin’ in the book stacks below the Logan series?”
He’d not comment on the stupidity of the question, given his own previous imaginings.
“Where are you taking her?”
“To the Morgan Library? I’d ask my aunt for help, but you know how messed up my relationship is with her. Maybe you can drop your father’s name—my name?”
“Oh, that hurts. Like my name isn’t good enough?”
“I didn’t say that, but your father was a Life Trustee with a fifty-year reputation in New York philanthropic circles.”
“True. We may be small now, but before Granddad took over from his father, Netherfield equaled HarperCollins at one point.”
“And another thing, Liz doesn’t know I’m Will Darcy, so...let your contact know not to spill it. I’m Alex Tobin. Here’s what I need...”
Sunday
Drizzling rain wouldn’t spoil the day Darcy had planned with Liz, and it oddly felt more like a date than research and that confused him. He wasn’t searching for a prospective girlfriend, just a story, but things had gone sideways after visiting with Mrs. Lucas. Although released from pre-conceived notions of Liz’s shady profession, the jury was still out on the murderess or conspirator part, even if implausible. Perhaps Liz had covered for her youngest sister. That was a possibility. At any rate, he’d figure it all out today, and finish the damned book in two before his heart engaged beyond the point of no return. Damn Reagan for killing his soul and riddling him with fear of commitment.
He exited into the courtyard where they planned to meet and, like their first meeting under the Edisons, lightning struck him. Backdropped by a trellis of climbing pink roses, Liz stood in the rain under a transparent umbrella, looking like a ray of sunshine. She wore a yellow dress and fashionable ankle rain boots and her hair styled in a casual braided bun. Unlike most women he met, Liz seemed unaffected by the inclement weather and when she heard him clear his throat, turned to face him with a brilliant smile lighting up the garden.
“You’re right on time. No baptism today, I guess,” he said, ducking under the umbrella with her.
“I didn’t want to be late. I went to church last night.”
She was...too good to be true.
“How was your trip?” he asked.
“Good. Long. Vegas isn’t quite my thing, but my client was so happy and feeling confident again. It was worth it.”
Knowing what he now knew, it didn’t tear his heart out imagining her getting it on with a john.
“I’m glad to hear it.” He knew he was smiling like a fool but couldn’t help staring at her.
“Gee, you look spiffy,” she said.
“Yeah, well, you know...my aunt. I didn’t want to make you look like you were slumming.”
“You succeeded.” She grinned. “I hope the rain doesn’t mar the plans you’ve made for today. I’ve been looking forward to it all week.”
“It won’t. In fact, it’s a perfect day for what we have planned, but you don’t seem to mind a little drizzle either.”
“Are you kidding? I love the rain, especially how it turns everything here vibrant. This garden has seen over one hundred forty years of rain.”
“You really love it here, don’t you?”
She sighed. “The Meryton, especially this courtyard, hold the best memories of my childhood, but Jane and I are getting ready to purchase a condo uptown. We’re big girls now.” She laughed.
“What about your place in 2C?”
Chuckling she said, “You still think I killed Clara, don’t you?”
“Maybe,” he half-joked.
“Unfortunately, we’re there only until spring. After Clara’s untimely passing, we struck a deal with her son to sublet the apartment for a year, giving him time to clean up the estate and remove eighty years of family belongings. We—”
Cutting her thought, she tilted her head to look around his body, then furrowed her brow. Inching toward him, it was clear she attempted to shield herself from someone, which he didn’t mind when she moved closer. If heaven had a scent, it was named Liz. He breathed in and she whispered. “Hide me.”
What was he to do? He put his arms around her and pulled her into him, enjoying every second of it. Should I kiss her?
“Lizzy, bella! Is dat-a you?” an Italian-accented man asked.
The look on her pained face almost prompted a deep kiss so the guy would keep walking, but it would be a violation. He couldn’t bring himself to do it without asking first, and there wasn’t time.
“Lizzy?”
She stepped from their embrace. “Oh, hi Gio.”
“It is-a you, bella!”
He turned to face the creepy would-be writer he’d heard so much about.
His heart stopped.
Their eyes met. Brows knit. Silent confusion immobilized them both with an expressionless, decade-long hatred of the other.
Gio flashed a fake smile at him with that crooked, deceitful mouth he knew too well.
“You break-a my heart. Who is dis, cara?”
“Gio, this is my friend Alex Tobin. Alex, this is my...he’s—”
“You say-a Alex Logan?”
“No. Alex Tobin,” he replied.
“Ah! I’m er ex-a boyfriend Giovanni Galbretti, but I like-a Gio.”
Liz gazed up at Darcy and, more than likely noting the frown on his face, protested. “You weren’t my boyfriend, Gio. I only went on two dates with him, Alex.”
“Nice to meet you, Gio.” He didn’t hold his hand out for a shake.
“She tell-a you what she does for a living, Alex, no?”
“I know all I need to know about Liz,” he said, putting his arm around her waist, then kissing her temple. “I’m a lucky guy.” To his surprise, she put her arm around his waist and playfully pinched it from behind.
“Yes-a, you are lucky. Maybe you will have-a better luck than I,” the grifter said.
“I’m sorry, Gio, but we have to go. Alex has planned a special day for us,” she said with a lovely smile.
“Yeah, and you don’t want to ruin your expensive Italian loafers in the rain,” he added.
“Arrivederci, Bellissima, and-a I’ll see you again, Alex-a Tobin.”
“Not if I see you first,” he promised, turning his back to him and walking arm-in-arm with Liz toward the street gate.
She murmured. “His shoes are plastic.”
“I know. Mrs. Lucas told me. She’s not a fan.”
“No one is. I don’t know what I ever saw in him.”
“It sounds like he could benefit from your services.”
“Ugh! I can’t be charitable here. That narcissistic loser is so beyond any help I could give!”
They reached the gate, and he put his hand on the latch opener, but turned to face her and those stunning, soulful eyes. “I’m really sorry the creep upset you, but don’t give him that power over you. Let’s choose to have a great time today, and he can eat his heart out all he wants because whatever he did, he only did it to himself.” As usual!
“He’s a jerk.”
If you only knew. “I gathered.”
She shook her head. “You don’t know the half of it. He’s like so many of my clients, looking for an angle all the time. It gets to the point where I think every guy is like that.” She thoughtfully smiled adding, “But then, I met you—a nice guy.”
“That’s never good when a date calls a guy a ‘nice guy.’ They never get the girl.”
“Are we on a date?” she asked, eyes searching his.
“I’m not sure. Are we?”
“I think so.”
“Even though I’m a ‘nice guy’?”
“I meant you being a nice guy in the best way. I’ve never met anyone like you before and, as you know, I meet a lot of guys.”
“I’m glad to hear it because I have never met anyone like you, but date or no date, I’m still going to pay you for the time as we agreed last week.”
“You don’t have to pay for me to spend the day with you! She put her hand on her hip. “I’m not a prostitute, you know!”
He swallowed. “Of course, you’re not. I...um...didn’t mean to imply anything of the sort. I’m so sorry...I just meant—”
“I’m kidding! I have no intention of re-negotiating our terms even if this turns out to be the best date I’ve ever been on,” she cheekily replied.
The uber was right on time, taking them crosstown, up to Midtown through little Sunday traffic. Raindrops streaked down the windows blurring the city, but Darcy hardly noticed, lost in his thoughts. Trying to be present was hard, even with Liz seated so close to him, but Gio’s presence remained, having literally shocked him to the core. It took every ounce of control to not text Gigi with some very harsh words, but how was she to know about the snake?
His nemesis was here in the West Village and living at the Meryton Arms! After making moves on Liz, he was now making moves on her youngest sister and Gigi. What game, what angle was he playing? Because the guy always had a grift of one sort or another. Mrs. Lucas called it! The heck with the Entenmanns—the woman deserved a frigging party tray of Italian cookies and a year supply of gourmet cat food!
Further, “he who shall not be named” caught him lying to Liz by assuming a false identity. At least Darcy wasn’t stupid enough to appropriate another culture! They were both in a chess game check-scenario, but the scammer lacked the intelligence for checkmate.
“Liz, can I ask you a question?”
“Sure.”
“I know I said let’s forget about that Gio guy, but I’m more than a little concerned by his presence at the Meryton Arms. He’s been making moves on my sister.”
“And mine.”
“What’s his game?”
“I think he’s just a predator and everything that goes with it, but my silly sister won’t listen. She thinks he’s—quote—‘an Italian snack with steez.’ ”
“Is that some Gen-Z slang?”
“Weird, right?”
“I’m sure my sister knows what it means. If you don’t mind me asking, what happened between you and ‘the snack’?” he asked.
“Let’s just say he expected liberties I was unwilling to give after only two dates...”
He metaphorically threw up his hands. Thank God! So totally NOT a hooker, call girl, prostie, or sex worker “consultant!”
“...and then, as revenge, the jerk spread some terrible lies about my family’s house call practice, which lost my father a lot of clients in the Meryton. It’s sad, not just for dad who sunk his entire retirement savings to start the practice, but because many of those patients are shut-ins and really needed his help.”
“I bet. There aren’t many house call physicians out there. Damn, I hate he did that to your family.”
“Thank you. After a lot of prayer and a lot of work to restore confidence in Village Home Health, we’ve only started to bounce back. But it took two months of his lies and a cease-and-desist letter from our lawyer for real action.”
“What a creep.”
“You said it. I really could kill him for what he did.”
His head snapped to her, and she smirked. “I won’t—of course. Don’t want to be accused of murder when he shows up dead in the courtyard. I’m sure there are a few others at the Meryton considering a firing squad. Personally, I’d go for poison.” She chuckled.
I might beat you to it.
“As for your sister, I would tell her the truth, Alex. I’d hate to see her pressured or victimized by him. If you think it’ll help, you have my permission to share my family experience.”
“I will, thank you. She’s somewhat impressionable, and this is her first time living on her own in the city. Maybe I’m too overprotective, but my parents have been deceased for most of her life and no matter her age, she’ll always be my responsibility.”
Liz rested her hand on his knee. “I’m so sorry about your parents.”
“Thanks.”
“You’re a good brother. I wish I had one, but God gave me my elder sister Jane, who’s not afraid to tell me like it is. She’s an angel, even if brutally honest.”
His betraying hand turned and held hers within its grasp. “You’re an angel, too,” he said unable to look over at her beautiful face because the truth squeezed his heart and plunged a knife into his already-addled brain. He was screwed—falling for her like a ton of bricks.
“Angel? Far from it. While I don’t hate a lot of things, I do hate liars, and that vindictive poser should get his comeuppance.”
“Yeah...I hate liars, too.” He swallowed his guilt. Jackass. None of this “research” was turning out like he had planned, particularly the reality that he turned out to be a grade-A asshole, only slightly better than his former fraternity buddy.
It occurred to him: Exacting further revenge, Gio had to be the originator of the prostitution theory. “She tell-a you what she does for a living, Alex, no?”
By the time they made it to their destination, the rain had calmed to a light drizzle.
“This is us,” Darcy said, opening the door.
Liz stepped out of the car on Thirty-Sixth Street and furrowed her brow. “But...this is...the closed entrance to the Morgan Library.”
“It is.” He beamed at her obvious awe.
Promptly at the pre-arranged time, Charlie’s contact opened the massive doors to the McKim building, smiled, and descended the steps.
Unlocking the wrought-iron gate, she greeted. “Good morning. Mr. Tobin, I presume?”
“Yes, and this is Liz Bennet.”
“Welcome to you both,” she said, shaking their hands. “I’m Lynette Harris, assistant to Deputy Director Matthers.”
“Thank you for considering my unusual request, Ms. Harris. I hope it wasn’t too much trouble.”
“With some minor alterations, we could meet your request. The Bingley name carries much weight around here at the Morgan and we are more than happy to find a way to make Charles’s request happen, especially for Mrs. DeBourgh’s nephew. Follow me.”
He felt Liz’s shocked stare upon him.
He could only imagine what was going through her thoughts as she reverently smoothed her hand along one of the marble lioness’ backs.
Their gaze met when they reached the paneled bronze doors under the portico, and she gifted him with a brilliant smile. The joy sparkling in her hazel eyes made his heart lighter for all his deceit and misconceptions. Although not entirely his fault, he still owned it and vowed to tell her the truth at the right time—just not today. Why ruin the once-in-a-lifetime experience he had planned for her?
She scanned the brightly lit foyer from colorful marble floors to the mythological figures painted on the lunette and then back up to the stucco reliefs in the dome.
“This is the Rotunda, a tribute to the great literary foundations of the past: Antiquity, Middle-Ages, and Renaissance. Behind me is the North Room, the private office of J. Pierpont Morgan’s personal librarian of forty years, Miss Belle DaCosta Greene and, to my right is the West Room, Mr. Morgan’s personal office,” Ms. Harris stated.
Looking up at the della Robbia terracotta sculpture of the Madonna and Child, Liz whispered the Latin engraving, “Soli Deo Honoret Gloria. Glory to God Alone.” She seemed to slip out of body; her mind floating to the Madonna, climbing upward to the apse, lost in the frescos, absorbing the director’s explanation of each depiction.
He, too, took it all in, especially relishing Liz’s special brand of wonderment.
“I must admit, Mr. Tobin, yours was the first request of its kind in my tenure, so we had to deliberate the ramifications to the collection. After discussion with the conservationists, the director agreed with limitations, of course. And since it is before hours, you will have the time you requested for brunch,” Ms. Harris stated.
“I’m indebted, really, and if there is any way I can assist the Morgan, please don’t hesitate to ask.”
“Well, I certainly have a list already penned, but honestly, it is my pleasure to make this happen for you in thanks for the more than generous donation. The museum is quite pleased to include you as one of this year’s prominent benefactors.”
