Page 62 of Pride, Prejudice, & Pretense

That it had all seemed happy, and yet we'd grown

As weary-hearted as that hollow moon.

"Fanny?" She looked up, the Celtic spell of Yeats broken.

Darcy stood beside her, coated and smiling, an olive drab watch cap pulled low on his head and his coat's collar standing up. "I didn't expect to find you here."

The poem was too present to her for her to return his smile in kind, although she was delighted to see him. "Ned, hey! I just happened to find this place."

"I'm going to get a cup of coffee." He pointed to a small high-top table in the corner that was unoccupied, one of only two or three inside the already-crowded shop. She nodded and took herYeats and coffee to the table. She had closed the book, and her heart thumped in her chest.

Just before he ordered, Darcy looked over his shoulder at her, and she gave him the smile he deserved. Once he returned with his coffee and sat next to her, Lizzy forced herself to think of him as Ned. He had not taken off the watch cap.

"You didn't mention the red beard and the unlit pipe." With her head, she indicated the man behind the counter.

He chuckled. "I should have told you about the local color, but I was too excited about the books I bought you."

Leaning closer to him, she whispered. "Is it okay for you to be out and about? Ned's in New York."

Darcy nodded. "I know, but it was a calculated risk. We know Wickham's traveling. I left my building the back way and came here largely via alleys. Bingley and I have everything ready for tonight, but I was restless. Besides, I wanted to give him some privacy."

"Privacy?"

He looked into Lizzy's eyes. "After last night, I couldn't bear my own hypocrisy. I called Jane and apologized to her after I apologized to him. We chatted. I…Well, let's say I better appreciate theirsituation. Hersituation…her past.He's promised he won't be distracted. But, hell, we'realldistracted, all three of us. Better to just own it and cope with it at this point."

Lizzy wanted to touch his hand. If they had been just Fanny and Ned, she would have. But they weren't, despite the covers, and they'd decided not to act on what was between them. Palpably between them…a third presence.

"So…Yeats?"

Lizzy looked down at the book on the table. "Yes, always been a fan. 'Always' meaning ‘since college.’ I took a course on the history of modern poetry, and Yeats was a key figure."

He picked up the book and idly turned some pages, then stopped and looked up at her. "Do you know this one? I've always liked it. 'He Tells of the Perfect Beauty.’” Darcy read softly but with feeling:

“O cloud-pale eyelids, dream-dimmed eyes,

The poets labouring all their days

To build a perfect beauty in rhyme

Are overthrown by a woman's gaze

And by the unlabouring brood of the skies:

And therefore my heart will bow, when dew

Is dropping sleep, until God burn time,

Before the unlabouring stars and you."

He finished reading but kept his eyes on the page, moving, as if reading it again to himself. When he finally lifted his eyes, he stared into hers. "Overthrown by woman's gaze, by dark eyes."

Lizzy blushed. Darcy closed the book and pushed it toward her with a frowning sigh. "I'm going to leave. Bingley and I will go over everything with you an hour or so before Wickham is due. Be sure to alert the security guard that you're expecting him. I'll be on comms, and Bingley will be in your building. He'll get there as soon as Wickham's in your apartment. But we'll talk about all this again later."

He reached up and adjusted the watch cap. He was trying to sound professional.

She let him see the dread in her eyes. "Ned, I—"

"I know, Fanny. I'm sorry." Darcy’s voice was thick and his eyes downcast. He turned quickly and left.

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