Page 108 of Pride, Prejudice, & Pretense

"Listen, Lizzy, we've got what I believe is the first reliable intel about Darcy." Charlie’s voice was nervous, and she braced herself. "There was a huge explosion at Vivos xPoint yesterday. Several men died—but Darcy wasn't among them.”

Lizzy legs had jellied until Charlie finished his sentence.

“One person was Bang Fumerton, the bomb maker. ‘Live by the sword, die by the sword.’"

"And…" Lizzy said, trying to get Charlie back on topic.

"And it's likely that Darcy was there. A witness described someone in the compound who matches his description.Remember? We thought there was a connection between Fumerton and Wickham."

"I remember. And they'resureFitzwilliam wasn't…one of the victims?" Her future hinged on the answer.

"Yes, they're sure. We're still waiting on identifications, but I suspect they were all part of the Wicker Man. In all, eight men died. A mess."

"Keep me updated if you learn anything else, please."

"I will, Lizzy. I have a feeling we'll see him again soon…that you'll see him again soon."

The call ended. Lizzy's heart managed both to ache and to pound away at the same time.

***

Friday, November 27

The next day was Black Friday. Everyone, including Uncle Hubert, was at the bridal shop. They expected a big day, partly because Mrs. Bennet had insisted on extra advertising and an extra discount. They were running a White Christmas Sale on Black Friday—whitefor the gowns, of course. The irony made Lizzy chuckle, though it seemed mainly to annoy her aunt. Uncle Hubert had been posted at the register, leaving Lizzy, her mother, and Aunt Christine to roam among the gowns helping the crowd of customers.

The day was crazy, a blur of sweet brides-to-be and bloodthirsty bridezillas, a flurry of white dresses and shoes and veils. When it finally ended, they all sat together, exhausted, on couches outside the dressing rooms. Mrs. Bennet had produced an open bottle of scotch and poured a little into paper cups for everyone. She was immensely pleased with herself, with her White Christmas on Black Friday promotion. Smiling at themall, she was serene in her business acumen and happy with her scotch.

She gestured tiredly toward a rack of gowns. "Now, Lizzy, we just need to get you into one of these"?the same old refrain as usual. Aunt Christine looked at Lizzy with a smile of empathy and compassion, knowing how much she now needed that.

Lizzy shook her head and stared out the large front window. Black Friday had turned dark, and more snow was falling. A car pulled away from the curb. She wanted to see Fitzwilliam on the sidewalk, and the overwhelming intensity of her need for him made her expectant for a moment—as if her need could conjure him from the dark. But he did not appear.

She jumped when the buzzer sounded.

Her aunt stood. "That's the back door. Who'd be out there after we've closed?" She walked quickly toward the storeroom in the back.

"Oh!" Mrs. Bennet said, stopping her. "I know who it is. It's my priest, Father Gabriel. He asked to stop by. Something about paperwork he wants me to look at before tomorrow's meeting of the Christmas Toy Drive committee. Let me get it."

Aunt Christine sat back down, and Mrs. Bennet left to answer the door.

***

Lizzy had met Father Gabriel a few days before at the local Anglican church, The Good Shepherd. Her mother had gone in for a late-morning committee meeting, and Lizzy accompanied her.

When her mother went to the conference room at the front of the church, Lizzy had wandered through the sanctuary before finally sitting in a pew. The building was old, the dated design style of its worship space reflecting its age. Oak?heavy, dark,and impervious to time?covered the walls and supported the ceilings in thick beams. The burning candles near the altar reflected dully on the polished wood.

Church had never been a part of Lizzy's life, and she continued to be surprised that it had become so much a part of her mother's. She had been sitting, half-hypnotized by the candles and their moving images on the wall, when a voice spoke to her. "Are you Elizabeth Bennet?"

She had thought about the question for a moment, not hearing it simply as a first move in conversation but as a searching inquiry, a philosophical question. Turning, she found a squat, chubby priest standing behind her, his florid face almost glowing and his teeth as white as his collar.

"Yes, I am Elizabeth," she had reported to him thoughtfully, smiling as she spoke.

"I'm Father Gabriel, the priest here."

"Nice to meet you." Lizzy stood and faced him. "My mother's talked a lot about you. She's become very involved here."

He’d nodded. "Yes, she has. I'm not sure if she counts as…converted, but she's proven to be an enthusiastic committee member. She tells me you've moved back to town?"

"I have, or at least that's my plan. I'm hoping to start grad school at the University of Rochester in January, if they take me."

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