“Very. He sees me. He read my play.”
“Did he like it?”
“He did.”
“Well, that’s a wonderful start. A love affair that begins on the page is already timeless.”
“Lizzie, you’re such a romantic. I’m not. I’m a pragmatist. A realist. A single woman on her way to being a curmudgeon.”
“That doesn’t have to be true.”
“Well, it is. He took my hand, and I never felt so connected to a person in all my life. Is that how it was for you and Darcy?”
“We had a difficult road to love. And now that we’re married and have children, we forgot all that. For me, being married is a moment-to-moment endeavor. Every day is new, because every moment brings new challenges and problems—and, you know, joy.”
“Mama and Pa are proof of that,” Mary said.
“They love each other,” Lizzie said.
“I think when you’re married as long as they have been, the love is the least of it.”
“Mary, the love always matters. Always.”
“Maybe.”
“What do you think holds an old couple together?” Lizzie asked.
“Patience.”
Mary and Lizzie were exhausted. They had said goodbye to their sisters and calmed down their mother. Their father was being sent to rehab for two weeks, which bought them time to make some decisions or, at the very least, gather some facts. They wanted everything to go well. The moon was high in that rectangle of black sky over Jane Street. Clouds moved over the light, long enough to cast a shadow in the old room.
THE PROPOSAL
Mary Bennet could barely keep up with her brother-in-law as they walked up Fifth Avenue in New York City. Fitz Darcy was tall, with long legs, which meant he had a stride that could cover a distance twice as fast as Mary. He moved like a shot, crisscrossingFifth Avenue as the lights changed. He had a technique whereby he never waited on a corner; he timed his steps so he never had to stop and wait. Impatience was a Darcy family trait.
“Come on, Mary,” he called out to her to move quickly. “We don’t want to be late.”
When Mary Bennet dreaded something, and she dreaded this meeting with William Collins, she procrastinated. Maybe if she slowed down, they’d never get there, even though there was no logic in her thinking.
Darcy turned to her. “Mary, what is the problem?”
“I’m afraid.”
“It’s just your cousin.”
“He has put the fear of God in all of us our whole lives.”
“You have nothing to fear now,” Darcy said. “I am going to get to the bottom of this, and we’ll figure out how to proceed.”
Mary wanted to believe her brother-in-law. She knew how Lizzie believed in him, trusted him. Lizzie swore she’d never marry, and the love was so all-consuming, she had to. Darcy didn’t leave her any choice in the matter.
“We’re here.” Darcy opened the door of 154 Fifth Avenue. “Come on, Mary. We’re right on time.”
Mary followed Darcy off the elevator to the conference room where the meeting would be held. The walnut table was polished. Mary took a seat and poured herself a glass of water from the crystal pitcher. She poured Darcy a glass and placed it on the table in front of him.
“Are you all right?” Darcy asked her.
“I’ll be better when this is over.” Mary sipped the water slowly.
