Love, Lies and Lizzie Page 14

  ‘But despite all that, I think I’m falling in love with you, so will you go out with me? Just to see what happens, especially here, where your family are miles away and can’t wreck things . . .’

  ‘Stop right there!’ Lizzie shouted, pulling her hand away. ‘I knew you were pompous and self-opinionated, but this – is this your idea of a chat-up line? Telling me my family aren’t good enough when your own father was just a headmaster.’

  ‘He was. He also happened to be the son of one of the Queen Mother’s equerries. And my mother was the youngest daughter of the Earl of Barroth. So you see, our worlds are poles apart.’

  ‘So let’s keep them that way!’ Lizzie spat the words out, her fists clenched as she stormed across to the window.

  ‘But I think we should try.’

  ‘Oh, you do, do you? If you think I’d even consider going out with a guy who has done nothing but criticise me and put my family down, you must be mad. It didn’t take me long to realise that you think you’re the centre of the entire universe. Well, you’re not.’

  ‘I never said —’

  ‘OK, so my family have only recently come into money – that’s true. My grandmother cleaned houses for other people so that my mum could go to art college. That disgusts you, I guess?’ She didn’t wait for him to answer. ‘My father – who I suppose in your words was way above her in education and social status, God how I hate that kind of talk! – fell in love with her and married her for no other reason than that she made him happier than any other girl he knew.’

  She swallowed hard to hold back tears.

  ‘And yes, she can be embarrassing – but you know what? She’s not half as embarrassing as you because she does what she does out of love. Misguided, maybe, but out of love, while you . . . the only person you love is yourself.’

  ‘That isn’t true – I’ve just said, I think I love you. And my friends —’

  ‘Oh, your friends?’ Lizzie cut in sarcastically. ‘Judging by what I’ve seen, your friends would do well to steer clear of you. You think I can forget what you did to my sister and to George. Go on, admit it – you turned Charlie against Jane, didn’t you?’

  ‘Well, obviously I did – any good friend would because —’

  ‘Obviously? Obviously, because we’re new money, as you call it? Obviously, because my parents don’t have titles or high flying careers?’

  James opened his mouth to reply, but no way was Lizzie going to stop now.

  ‘And another thing – I don’t go out with cheats and liars.’

  ‘I beg your pardon!’

  ‘Oh, don’t come the innocent with me! I know what you did to George Wickham.’

  ‘Oh, it’s all about George, is it?’ James flushed scarlet. ‘I could see you were taken in by that two-faced oily slimeball. That was another thing that made me think twice about going out with you – I mean, a girl stupid enough to fall for George’s lies . . .’

  ‘Lies? Are you trying to deny that you got him expelled?’

  ‘He managed that for himself by his devious, manipulative – oh, what’s the point of talking to you? You’ve clearly made up your mind about me.’

  He turned and stared at her long and hard.

  ‘You know something? I’m the kind of guy who says it like it is. I hate pretending and for some stupid reason, I thought you might be the same. I thought that if I admitted to all my doubts, it would be like us starting from a level playing field.’

  ‘Oh, we couldn’t possibly do that, James – after all your playing field is a public school one, and mine —’

  ‘Forget it!’ As James wheeled round and headed for the door, Lizzie wanted to punch herself in the nose for sinking into such petty backchat.

  ‘We had better pretend this last half-hour never happened,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry I bothered you.’

  And before she could think of a parting shot, he was gone, slamming the door behind him.

  Leaving her feeling strangely dissatisfied with the whole encounter.

  And even more dissatisfied with her own part in it.

  CHAPTER 12

  ‘There are few people whom I really love and still fewer of

  whom I think well.’

  (Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice)

  To: JaneyBen@ntlworld.com

  From: LizzieBen@ntlworld.com

  Thanks for your email and sorry I didn’t get back to you yesterday. I had the worst . . .

  Lizzie paused and then pressed the Delete button. She couldn’t tell Jane everything that had happened the day before; her sister would see through anything other than the complete truth and the complete truth would hurt her like hell. Maybe she’d just stick to telling her about the upcoming charity dinner and the news that . . .

  New mail! Her laptop pinged and flashed the message. It was from James. How on earth had he got her email address?

  To: LizzieBen@ntlworld.com

  From JFDarcy@tiscali.net

  Dear Lizzie,

  Before you delete this in a fit of temper, please read what I have to say. I won’t mention us – not that there is an ‘us’. But considering all the accusations you hurled at me yesterday, I think you should at least hear my side of the story.

  George’s father and mine were really good friends . . .

  Yeah, yeah, thought Lizzie, as she scrolled down through the message.

  . . . in the school holidays when we went to our house in Braemar he and George came too to help Pa restore the garden . . . played together . . . my father supported him through school . . . and he was my closest friend which was why at first I tried to cover up what he was really like.

  Lizzie leaned closer to the screen and began reading more carefully.

  He used to bunk off school in the evenings and go downtown where he’d meet up with his old friends from the comprehensive. They were a pretty rough lot . . .

  Here we go, thought Lizzie. State school equals yobs in his eyes.

  . . . but I told myself that it was just that he missed them (a lot of the guys at Heddingfield looked down on him and shut him out, if I’m honest) and so I never said anything, even covered for him from time to time. Then one summer, things got really bad. His grades had been dropping, and my father was really worried; Pa had paid for George out of his own money (but of course, being the kind of guy he was, he’d told George it was a full scholarship) – he was so sure he’d be a real high flyer. I tried to talk to George, find out what was going on, tell him how disappointed Pa would be if he blew his chances.

  Lizzie paused, irritated to be interrupted as her mobile shrilled.

  ‘Hi, Lizzie, guess what?’ It was Emily. ‘Guess what?’

  ‘Go on.’ Lizzie’s eyes were still on the email in front of her.

  ‘I’ve been made permanent – you know, on the staff,’ she enthused. ‘Which means I get to stay as long as I like.’

  ‘By which you mean, as long as Drew’s here,’ teased Lizzie. ‘That’s great.’

  ‘Yes, but that’s only the half of it,’ Emily went on. ‘Drew says that when he goes back to the States, I can go with him for a holiday, meet his mum and stepdad – do you think that means that – well, you know . . .’

  ‘I think it means that whatever happens, you’ll get a great holiday and I’m really pleased for you. Look, I’ve got to go,’ she lied. ‘I’m needed downstairs.’

  ‘OK, catch you on Saturday at the charity do-dah. And Lizzie?’

  ‘Mmm?’

  ‘I know you think I’m silly, but I’m really, really happy. See ya!’

  Lizzie shook her head in disbelief. How could Emily really settle for a guy like Drew? He was a loser, up himself and totally boring – even Em admitted that. So what was the point? Could her self-esteem really be that low that she’d settle for the first guy to take an interest in her?

  She turned back to the screen on her laptop. One phrase leaped out at her.

  And then I caught him in the cricket pavilion with my sister.
<
br />   She brushed her hair out of her eyes and peered more closely.

  It was a few days after my father had suffered his first heart attack, so you can imagine the state I was in. I went to the pavilion because I thought it would be empty and I could get myself together before telling Jenna just how ill Pa really was. She was there with George. Suffice to say they weren’t discussing the weather. He had his arms round her and . . .

  Lizzie swallowed hard. Still, she thought, that was ages ago, and she’d done the same herself with Toby when they were at school. And George had said that he was comforting Jenna because she was upset. What was the problem?

  And they weren’t just snogging. She had her top off and he was . . . anyway, I was stupid enough to cover that up too. He said Jenna had been upset about Pa being in the hospital and he was hugging her in a brotherly manner. I knew, Lizzie, deep down, I knew he was lying but I didn’t want to believe that Jenna – who was just fourteen at the time – would – well, you know.

  Lizzie suddenly felt a surge of – of what? Compassion? Sympathy? James couldn’t even express himself fully in an email. What made him so uptight? What had happened to him?

  What a blind bloody fool I was! George told me there was nothing going on and I wanted to believe him. Jenna was acting really manic – crying one minute, laughing the next, telling me that I was middle-aged before my time . . . the signs were all there. And I ignored them. Because I didn’t want to believe what any other sane person would have known from the start. And then five months later, Pa died. His last words to me were ‘Look after your little sister.’ I couldn’t even get that right, could I?

  My father left a large sum of money to George – enough to cover the rest of his education at Heddingfield and three years at uni. You know what he wrote in his will? Well, of course you don’t, but I’ll tell you. The words are imprinted in my mind for ever. He said, ‘I bequeath to George Edward Wickham the sum of thirty thousand pounds, such monies to be used solely for the completion of his education and for his university career. I appoint my son James Fitzwilliam Darcy and my nephew John Edward Fitzwilliam to be trustees together with . . .’ and then it was the family solicitor and the school chaplain.

  Lizzie was puzzled. If James had actually got George expelled, not only had he done the dirty on a so-called friend, but he’d defied his father’s last wish.

  I can guess what you’re thinking, but please, just finish reading this. God, this is hard. OK. It was a couple of days after Pa’s funeral (that was held in the school chapel and I wish it hadn’t been because after that, every time I went there . . .). Anyway, we were back at the house we lived in during term time, in the school grounds – Johnnie and Auntie Kay were both there helping out – Johnnie helping, Auntie bossing. Jenna was in a dreadful state, not eating, having nightmares, not even answering texts from her friends. One evening, she said she needed to go and walk her dog. We were pleased – she’d even neglected Spike since Pa’s death. We thought she just wanted time on her own out of doors.

  Time with him – George – more like.

  Lizzie, I won’t tell you the state I found her in. Not because I’m sparing your feelings, but because I can’t. I can’t go there again. You heard Jenna singing on that CD. That is the sound I have to hang on to. When she sings I can believe she’s getting over everything that happened. See, that was the night I discovered that George Wickham, the guy you think I’ve treated so badly – that was the night I discovered he’d been supplying my sister with drugs. How come I found out then? She had a convulsion, was rushed to hospital and nearly died.

  Lizzie felt as though everything around her had shifted into freeze-frame. This couldn’t be true. George was so laid-back, so confident, so – convincing. She remembered Charlie saying how good it was of James to go to the hospital with Jane, considering how much he hated them; now she understood why.

  Again, I can guess what you’re thinking – and you’re right. George doesn’t come across like a drug dealer, does he? A lot of them don’t – that stereotype on TV, the unshaven, shifty-eyed idiot in an unlit bar is just that – a stereotype. George’s kind are even more dangerous. From what I could gather, he never did drugs himself – alcohol’s more his drug of choice. No, that’s not true – he snorted a line of coke from time to time, and God knows, that was insanity, but mainly he just supplied others. One of his mates from his old school got him into it . . .

  Which is why you have such a downer on state schools, I guess, thought Lizzie, wondering why she had tears in her eyes. You idiot – why didn’t you tell me all this instead of acting like some eighteenth-century prig?

  He was in it for the money. It happens, I’m told. I wish to God I’d known in time.

  So I hope that you will now see that I’m not quite the rank guy you thought I was and that George, despite his amazing ability to convince people otherwise, is out for only one thing. Himself.

  Now maybe you can imagine just what it did to me to watch you flirting with him.

  Oh, and about your sister. Did you really think that, after I had not only heard her calling out the name of another guy at the hospital and saying she loved him (something that at first I put down to painkillers and a knock on the head) but then, to cap it all, saw her snogging a guy (presumably the same one, although who can tell?) at the races – that I wouldn’t warn Charlie he was being two-timed and set up to look a total fool? Charlie’s the kind of guy who never thinks ill of anyone and he’s been badly hurt twice before by girls who are just out for a good time with a chap who’s too generous for his own good. And if it’s up to me, it won’t ever happen again. So you can tell your sister – she made her bed. Now it’s time to lie in it.

  James

  Lizzie sat motionless for some time, just staring into space. For the moment, George and his lies – if lies they were and deep down she knew they were – faded into the background and all she could see in her mind’s eye was Jane in the hospital, and then Simon – the kiss, the slap. Only James quite clearly hadn’t hung around to see Jane give Simon what for – he’d only seen the kiss and formed his own conclusions. Could she blame him – really? It must have looked . . .

  Her thoughts chased themselves round and round in her head until she wanted to scream.

  ‘What an idiot I’ve been!’ she said out loud to her reflection in the mirror. ‘I should have realised – George was just setting me up, trying to make me believe untruths.’

  She thought back to the day at the races. What guy would, under normal circumstances, spill his whole life story to a total stranger? Unless he’d wanted to get in quickly with his own version of events.

  ‘I wanted to believe George, for one reason and one reason only – because I’d decided James was an up-himself public schoolboy who didn’t give a toss for anyone else,’ she admonished herself aloud, glaring at her reflection in the mirror. ‘Lizzie Bennet, you’re as prejudiced as you thought he was. So what are you going to do about this mess?’

  Was there anything she could do? There was only one thing for it: she would have to face James and put him straight about Jane. That way, things just might turn out right for her sister.

  ‘What do you mean, he’s not here?’

  Lizzie, knowing that she and Madeleine would be at the chateau that afternoon making the final preparations for the dinner the following Saturday, had spent all day rehearsing what she was going to say to James. The thought of not getting the chance to offload was more than she could bear.

  ‘He’s gone to the airport to meet his sister,’ Katrina told her calmly, handing Madeleine a pile of place cards. ‘He’ll be back this evening. Have you met Jenna?’

  ‘No,’ Lizzie replied, ‘but I’ve heard her sing on a CD. She has a beautiful voice.’

  ‘I’m very fond of her,’ Katrina nodded. ‘Well, I adore them both, to be honest. Even though James is an obstinate, short-sighted boy at times.’

  ‘He is?’ she replied, hoping to encourage his aunt to say
more.

  ‘I want him to come into the business – De Burgh Hotels,’ she said. ‘Well, it’s the least I can do – both his parents are dead you know . . .’

  Lizzie nodded.

  ‘And there’s a ready-made job for him, great prospects, he could increase his shareholding . . . but will he? No. And do you know why?’

  Lizzie shook her head.

  ‘Because he wants to do charity work,’ his aunt sighed. ‘Can you believe that? I mean, as I said to him, “That’s very noble, darling, but you could do a bit of that in your spare time.” The hotels could sponsor some little fundraising dos like the one tomorrow night . . .’

  She sighed again.

  ‘And do you know what he said? He said that was just paying lip service and he wanted to make a career out of helping the disadvantaged.’

  ‘That’s . . .’ For a moment Lizzie was lost for words. ‘That’s just incredible.’

  Was this the James she knew and hated? Well, not hated – disliked. Well no, she didn’t dislike him . . . oh God. She didn’t dislike him. She was beginning to like him quite a bit more than she would have thought possible.

  ‘Incredible? You’re right, it’s incredible. He’s such a softie. As a child, you know, he used to clean my car or do jobs for his father and give the money to any lame duck who came along.’

  She shook her head and then suddenly brightened. ‘Still, maybe now he’s met you – I mean, he does seem keen . . .’

  Lizzie felt the colour flood her cheeks as she bit her tongue and resolved to say nothing.

  ‘ . . . but then, no one has ever influenced my nephew. Well, not yet, anyway. I don’t suppose you think you could manage to make him see sense?’

  Text message!

  Lizzie scrolled through Lydia’s message the following evening.

  Arrived in Newquay . . . great place, all the guys here, so cool! I’ve got a new boyfriend and he’s a dream. Going clubbing now. I’ll leave you to guess who it is! Lydia.