Page 80 of Pride, Prejudice, & Pretense

"I will."

Lizzy met Wickham outside the men’s room. He was looking at his phone again but without any particular expression, no frown, and put it in his pocket as soon as she approached. "Our flight begins to board in about 15 minutes. The gate's just down the hallway."

Just before boarding, Lizzy glanced at her phone, Fanny's phone. Ned had not texted Fanny that he loved her. No cancellation. That meant Lizzy had to board the plane and depart with Wickham. She couldn't help herself; she felt doubly disappointed—that Fanny was going to Casper, and that Ned hadn't told he loved her.

That he loved Fanny. That meant Lizzy was going to Casper.

It was stupid to feel like that—unprofessional. Identities like musical chairs.

Unprofessional. Like her tears in her apartment after Fitzwilliam closed the door. But the tears had come then, as the sadness did here in the airport where she was leaving to go on a trip she dreaded taking.

She swallowed the sadness and made herself smile excitedly when Wickham stood, one hand grabbing his duffle and the other reaching for her hand.

***

The previous day, Lizzy had walked into her bedroom after her computer call with Fitzwilliam and Charlie covering the importance of learning where Wickham would be taking Fanny and the precautions they were taking?the tracker that would be in her sling bag, the tranquillizing pills. She stretched out on the bed, feeling as anxious as she could remember being on any mission. Her dread of the upcoming trip with Wickham passed the physical and reached the spiritual.

She tried to calm herself, control her breathing. She wouldn't be alone for long, and only in public, the airport, on the plane. The destination team would trail them from the airport. Fitzwilliam and Charlie would follow not long after. But she could not manage calm. She could feel her pulse all over her body, her heart thumping.

The problem was not just the mission, Wickham. It was Fitzwilliam. It wasn’t only because of all that was unspoken and unacted upon between them. Or the fact that her desire, her feelings for him, made the mission so much more repugnant than it would have been otherwise—and it would have been deeply repugnant regardless, more than any of her previous seduction missions.

But now? The thought of Wickham's hands on her, his body pressed against her made her feel nauseated, seasick. Not just her mind was protesting against the thought; her body rebelled against it, too. Her surroundings started to spin again.

She would have to hide that nausea and pretend the opposite, pretend to be aroused, awaiting Wickham's advances, eager, in Fanny's conflicted but yielding way.

She rolled over to the nightstand, opened the drawer, and took out her personal phone. Then she did what she had promised more than once but never fully intended to do: she called her mother.

Desperate times.

"Lizzy?" Her mother answered the phone, the familiar background noise of soft chatter and love songs confirming that she was at the bridal shop.

"Yes, it's me. How are you?"

Mrs. Bennet huffed. "Annoyed. Your uncle Hubert’s had a setback, some complication with his heart, and your aunt's not been in the shop the last two days. I've had to run it by myself."

Her mother had forgotten her constant complaints about Aunt Christine now that the work of the shop had fallen to her. Unsurprisingly, she was unconcerned about the health of her own brother. Mrs. Bennet’s circle of concern was exactly as large as herself.

"How is he, Mom?"

"Oh, he'll live. But your aunt's worried and wants to be with him in the hospital. The procedure is done, whatever it was. Another stent or some kind of adjustment of a previous one. He’s recovering. It looks like he won't be back at work soon, if ever, even part-time."

Lizzy realized she'd have to call her aunt if she wanted to know what was happening. She overheard her mother speak to a customer in a loud voice. "No, no, you're toofatfor that. There's no use dragging it to the fitting room. A waist of time?‘waist’ with a middle ‘I,’ not a final ‘E.’ Ourplus sizesare against the wall."

Lizzy thought she heard a broken sob in the background."Mom," she said, wanting more information and hoping to distract her from the savaged customer, "what hospital is he in?"

"The university one…not the one on South Avenue, but the big one…"

"Strong Memorial?"

"Yes, in their heart and vascular center."

"Thanks. Look, I'm going to let you go and call Aunt Christine, okay? I want to hear about Uncle Hubert from her."

"Okay, but there's not much more to know. How's work?"

Lousy. "Fine, Mom. Busy. Stressful."

"Well, it can't compare to the stress I'm under. So much to do with these beautiful, svelte dresses but only fat girls in the shop…"

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