Page 121 of Pride, Prejudice, & Pretense

"It looks that way. Walter Kellynch is too protective of the Company and its reputation to put his feelings for Charlotte?whatever they might be?ahead of the job."

"Charlotte was a friend of yours?" Fitzwilliam asked Lizzy.

"Sort of." She didn’t think about her choice of expression until she’d said it. "I doubt she acted out of truly evil motives. She’d convinced herself that I was her competition for the director and let that gnaw at her…and it cost her. Dearly."

They put the news about Charlotte to one side and spent the next hour or so catching up with Jane and Charlie. Jane had career news to share, too. She was considering a management position at a head-hunter firm in D.C. that offered much better pay and much less travel. She still hadn't yet made up her mind about whether to accept the job, which was why she hadn't mentioned it during their Thanksgiving call a couple of days earlier, but she was leaning in that direction. Charlie expressed his support for whatever decision she made, but it was obvious he was delighted that the job wouldn't take Jane from D.C. and that she wouldn’t be on the road as much.

He had his own career news. He’d asked Kellynch for reassignment. He wanted to work as an instructor on the Farm, to be based in D.C. and no longer involved in deep cover assignments. The director had not saidyes,but Charlie was sure he would.

Lizzy sang an impromptu chorus ofOld McBingleyand, surprisingly, Darcy and Jane joined in for theE-I-E-I-Os. Charlie smiled and blushed.

A nurse came in with more good news. Fitzwilliam was going to be released from the hospital the next day.

Leaving him chatting with Charlie and Jane, Lizzy walked to her mother's room. Aunt Christine, who was spending the day with Mrs. Bennet, had already texted and reported that she was doing well. When Lizzy entered, she found her mother asleep.

Mrs. Gardiner was reading in a nearby chair—a paperback copy of Gaskell'sWives and Daughters.When she saw Lizzy notice the title, she held the book up. "I wanted to see what all the fuss was about."

“So how long has she been asleep?" Lizzy asked as her mother emitted a soft snore.

"An hour or so. She spent the morning ordering the nurses about like servants."

"Has she remembered anything?"

"No, not that I can tell. But she's eager to get to the shop and do the receipts on Black Friday. ‘A banner day!’ she keeps saying."

"That it was."

"How is Ned—Fitzwilliam?"

"Just Fitzwilliam, please. No more Ned, and no more Fanny. He's good." She paused, and then she confessed, “I sent him a picture of a wedding dress this morning."

Aunt Christine lifted her eyebrows. "Oh? The high-necked A-line hanging near the counter?"

"How did you know?" Lizzy smiled, delighted but also surprised.

"I saw you admiring it more than once. I've never seen you look at one that way before,personally…like you were imagining yourself wearing it. Do you think it's a good idea, to send a picture of that at this point in your relationship?"

Lizzy nodded confidently, sighing. "We're together, Aunt. Fitzwilliam’s not going to spook, and neither am I."

Aunt Christine’s eyes welled with tears. "Then I'll tear up that IOU I'm betting you left on the shop counter. The dress will be my wedding present to you." Her voice grew softer. "You've always been a daughter to me, Elizabeth."

Lizzy wiped away her own tears and drew her aunt into a long-lasting hug.

Mrs. Bennet continued snoring.

Chapter Thirty: For what do we live?

January 1

It was a gala day.

The penthouse bridal suite of the Rochester Hyatt Regency commanded a panoramic view of the scenery. The newly white winter city lay beneath an antique gray afternoon sky. Lizzy stood near one of the huge windows, looking out and letting her imagination mingle with the falling-tumbling snowflakes.Here, now, and everywhere, the world is always fresh, full, and promising,she reminded herself. The flakes seemed half to belong to gravity, half to caprice.

She put her warm hand against the cold window, moisture condensing around the shape of the hand. She steadied herself as she tried to control her breathing and shifted her vision so she was no longer looking out of but into the window.

Behind her, on the suite's vast white bed, naked and still breathing deeply himself, was her husband. He looked well-wed, red-faced, spent, and happy.Shewas so happy! Her last hour with him had belonged half to gravity and half to caprice, falling-tumbling.

Lizzy wore only Fitzwilliam’s white tuxedo shirt, which hung long and unbuttoned on her. By another shift of her vision, she could see herself in the window, her display of cleavage and the firm downward curves of her abdomen that framed her belly button leading her eyes to the meeting point of her legs.

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