Spring Short Story, Part Two

Greetings! Today I’m posting the second part of a short story I started in March. As I mentioned in the last post, I began this story as a way to accomplish two goals: 1.) I wanted to give myself a fun writing challenge (especially because I’m struggling with writing these days!); and 2.) I hoped to include the theme of the month somewhere in each excerpt for the story. (So, look for “Bloom Where You Are Planted” in this excerpt!)

In Part I, we saw Liz (a boarding school teacher and swim coach) exchange a series of snarky emails with Fitzwilliam Darcy, MD-PhD about his refusal to grant permission for his sister, Georgi, to attend the Ramsgate Interscholastic Swim Meet. Liz later learns that Darcy will be coming to visit the school–and Georgi wants Liz to convince Darcy to change his mind.

If you’d like to read the first part, here’s the link!

Two quick author’s notes before we begin Part II: 1.) Many thanks to all the readers who commented last time. You inspired me–especially Lisa who suggested Darcy should be wearing a three-piece suit when he arrives. That image really stuck with me–and so here he comes, wearing that three-piece suit! 2.) I wrote this segment in about two days — and didn’t have time to proofread! I’m so terrible. I tell my students, “Leave yourself time to edit!” And here I am, not leaving myself time to edit properly. My apologies for any mistakes you find…

Despite the possible errors, I hope you enjoy!

 

She remembered the first time—the only time, in fact—her parents had attended one of her swim meets.

“It’s not that I don’t love you,” her dad had said as they drove home, widows down, air-conditioner blasting, “but I can’t take that again! An indoor swim meet must be hotter than Dante’s ninth circle of hell!”

She had laughed, even as she sat there shivering, the ends of her hair frozen. It had been January, but her mom had insisted on A/C (“Have a little compassion, won’t you? Hot flashes are no picnic!”) and Lydia had rolled down every window because, “Ewww, your chlorine-stink makes me want to puke, Lizzy!”

Not long afterward, Liz had read Dante’s The Divine Comedy for herself. Turns out the ninth circle of hell was not hot; it was ice-cold.

So was the devil, which might just explain how Mr.—Dr.—Darcy had managed to watch his sister’s swim practice without breaking a sweat. He stood on the pool’s observation deck, frowning down at Liz in his perfectly-tailored three-piece suit.* Given the humidity, he ought to have been dripping with perspiration, or at least looking a little worse for the wear. Instead, he had the temerity to appear completely unruffled. Vexed and ill-tempered, yes—but as cool and composed as if he had just stepped into a boardroom, rather than a natatorium.

Good God, he was the last man in the world she wished to speak with today. Still, she had promised Georgi…

“One more lap for good measure, girls!” Liz shouted above the din of the swimmers’ splashes.

“Oh, come on, Coach! It’s 5 o’clock!” cried a ninth-grader. Caroline—or maybe Louisa? They were thick as thieves, those two—and they both preferred complaining to swimming. Still, Louisa (or Caroline?) was right: it was time to go. Liz was just putting off the inevitable.

So she blew her whistle, calling the team in for a last huddle on the pool deck, though most of the girls decided to finish that extra lap anyway.

And Georgi? She completed her extra lap as fast as she could before launching herself out of the pool and cheering on the girls still finishing their strokes.

Liz marveled at how loud Georgi could be on the pool deck. In class, in the dorm, in almost every other facet of school life, Georgi spoke quietly and infrequently. In the fall, when she had first arrived at Meryton, her introversion had earned her a reputation as a snob. It didn’t help that Georgi was a new senior at a school most students entered as ninth graders. Add to that her family legacy: her brother, mother, father, and grandfather had all attended Meryton as four-year boarders, so it had been expected that Georgi, too, would start Meryton at age fourteen. Why she had waited three extra years to enroll was a mystery.

And nothing made better fodder for gossip at a boarding school than a mystery:

“I heard she’s had a governess since she was five. Like, an actual governess! Does she think it’s the nineteenth century?”

“I heard she was too stupid to get in, even with her family legacy—and they only let her in now because her brother threatened to stop donating!”

“I heard she got pregnant and had to spend two years recuperating in Switzerland!”

“I heard she was busted for partying in Boston—and was on house arrest until just this past summer!”

Ah, the illogical nature of rumors! Somehow Georgi was both so stuck up that she wouldn’t speak to a soul, yet so sociable that she partied and got pregnant! As for the rumors suggesting she was not a capable student—well, Liz knew for certain those held not an ounce of truth.

Yet Liz had made her own assumptions about Georgi—namely that she’d have no trouble fitting in here. As a fabled Darcy, how could she be anything but one of the popular girls?

Only in October, as the leaves began to turn and the students settled into a routine, did Liz realize she had never seen Georgi talking with any of the other students as they left class. Over the next few weeks, she watched the girl more carefully, almost hoping for some sign that Georgi simply thought too highly of herself to do the messy work of making new friends. But by Thanksgiving break, Liz had to admit her mistake: Georgi wasn’t the haughty scion of a wealthy family; she was a shy young woman who wanted to make friends. She just didn’t know how.

Fortunately, winter brought swim season, and though Georgi wasn’t confident about much, she was a confident swimmer. In the pool, she seemed to come alive—and the other girls noticed. They might have resented her for her speed and athleticism, if Georgi hadn’t been so enthusiastic in her support of every other member of the team, no matter their abilities. Slowly, as the campus grounds froze, Georgi’s teammates warmed to her.

Just the other day, while leaving swim practice, Liz had heard one of the girls asking Georgi to room with her when the team traveled south for the biggest meet of the season: the Ramsgate Interscholastic Swim Meet. At last! Liz had thought, grinning all the way back to her apartment.

Except, now Georgi wasn’t allowed to attend the swim meet—and Liz feared the other girls would think one of the team’s best swimmers was abandoning them.

As the last few girls climbed out of the pool, Liz found herself glancing up at the observation deck. Twenty minutes prior, when Darcy had first arrived, she had pointedly met his gaze, quirking her brow, hoping he would see in her expression a determined refusal to be intimidated. His response? An unblinking glare. He had refused to look away, as if they were ten year-olds engaged in a staring contest.

Well, she’d lost that contest—or won, depending on the perspective. After all, she had been the adult in this situation, turning away to do her job. (But only after her assistant coach, Charlotte, had nudged her twice, asking, “Hey, Liz, you okay?”)

For the rest of practice, she had felt him watching her, a sensation Charlotte confirmed by whispering, “Who is that guy, and why is he glaring daggers at you?”

Now, though, as the girls gathered round, he was not glaring at her. He was not even looking at her. His gaze was fixed on his sister.

Georgi had thrown one of her arms about the shoulders of another girl—Anne, a fellow senior who had been struggling all winter to improve her time in the 200-yard medley.  Liz couldn’t hear what Georgi was saying, but she could guess: words of encouragement. Anne’s expression shifted from surly to sunny, and then the girls both burst out laughing as Georgi flicked her middle finger at the race clock pinned to the far wall. Just as Georgi started to lower her hand, she stopped dead, her mouth falling open.

Liz knew exactly what—or who—had startled Georgi into stillness. She tensed, waiting for—what? For Georgi to go pale with fear? For Darcy to scold his sister from on high?

Whatever she had expected, it had not been the bright smile that bloomed on Georgi’s face. She looked genuinely glad to see her brother. As for Darcy—well, before Liz could catch his expression, he had already turned away, climbing the stairs toward the exit of the observation deck.

Was he leaving? But what about Georgi?

“Liz? Liz!”

She blinked and looked at Charlotte.

“Celebrations? Suggestions? Announcements?” Charlotte prompted, eyebrows raised.

“Right,” said Liz, turning swiftly to the girls and starting the usual end-of-practice rituals. As the girls traded praise, advice, and news, Liz kept glancing between the observation deck (empty now) and Georgi (who had turned to look at the team captains, so Liz couldn’t see her expression).

Liz hardly heard a word the girls were saying to each other, and she only belatedly added her voice to the final team cheer that echoed through the natatorium.

“What is up with you today?” Charlotte asked as the girls headed for the locker room.

Liz sighed. “Sorry, Char, it’s just been one of those days.”

“Wait, you have those days too?” Charlotte asked, her eyes comically wide. “You, the great Dr. Bennet, winner of the Netherfield Prize for Teaching and holder of the Reynolds Excellence in Teaching Award? I thought only we lowly plebeians had those kind of days.”

Liz laughed. “I don’t know that you get to call yourself a pleb, Ms. Science Department Chair.” She might have continued bantering, if she hadn’t seen Georgi skip the locker room and head for the natatorium lobby instead. “Look, Char, come over to my apartment for tea on Sunday, and I’ll explain all. But for now, I have to…” She didn’t finish, not really sure how to explain what she had to do—even to herself. Then, over her shoulder, she added, “Don’t worry about putting away the equipment or locking up. I’ve got it this evening. You head to dinner!”

“But you always get it!” Char called after her. “Are you sure? You look busy…distracted…Liz?”

She didn’t answer, having already pushed through the doors to the lobby, wondering just how to comfort Georgi. Had her brother stormed off in disgust after seeing his sister’s rude gesture? For goodness’s sake, it was just a middle finger at a race clock—hardly rude at all by adolescent standards! But it was surely not the kind of behavior Dr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, MD-PhD expected of his sister. The second she saw him, she would let him know exactly what she thought of—

She came to an abrupt halt—or would have, if her flip flops (the only shoes she could wear on a pool deck) had any traction to them. Instead, she ended up skidding to a stop, nearly stumbling across the polished marble floor. But her clumsiness didn’t matter: the only other two people in the lobby were not paying her any attention.

Georgi stood in her brother’s embrace, his arms wrapped tightly about her.

“Oh, I’m getting your suit all wet!” she cried, pulling back with a laugh.  “I’m a real menace to other people’s clothing today!”

“What does that mean?” he asked, grinning down at her. “Did you follow Mom’s example and start a food fight in the dining hall?”

“What? No, I spilled coffee on one of my teachers. And by the way, I absolutely do not believe Mom started a food fight when she was here!”

“Just ask Dad. He swears she—” Darcy stopped abruptly. “I…Sorry, I…”

Georgi put a hand on his arm. “You know, last month, I actually texted him without thinking. Only when the message bounced back did I realize…”

Several long moments of silence passed before he cleared his throat. “So, is this our dining attire—you in your wet suit, and me in mine?”

“Hah! No, I’ll change.” Then she grimaced. “I really did get your suit all wet.”

“My valet will spiff it up,” he said in a mock British accent.

She grinned. “Don’t let anyone around here catch you saying that! They’ll actually believe you. Seriously, Will, it’s freezing outside…did you bring a change of clothes? Are you staying at the Campus Inn? Ooooh, could we have breakfast there tomorrow? They do this full tea service, and we could have scones and quiche and…”

He looked away. “I have to get back to Cambridge tonight, Georgi.”

“But, Will! It’s a two-hour drive! You won’t get back until at least ten-thirty, and then you’ll stay awake working until two!”

“Never mind that. Go and change. We’ll have dinner wherever you like.”

She raised her eyebrows. “McDonald’s? Burger King? Arby’s?”

“Anywhere that’s not fast food.”

“You’re no fun!” she said, her laughter suggesting otherwise. “All right, I’ll hurry—but I have to go back to the dorm first. I have my sweats in the locker room, but not anything fancy enough for Arby’s!”

As Georgi turned to leave, Liz found herself gaping. Who were these two people, and what had they done with her preconceived notion of the Darcy family?

“Oh, Coach Bennet!” Now it was Georgi who skidded to a halt, catching sight of her only after turning back toward the pool door. Casting a worried glance between her brother and her teacher, Georgi seemed immediately to deflate: shoulders rounded forward, eyes downcast, head bent.

Watching Georgi’s transformation felt like a punch in the gut. All day, Liz had told herself a story of how this dreaded meeting would go: she, the heroic educator, would stand up to Georgi’s cold, uncaring guardian. Except, he clearly wasn’t a cold, uncaring guardian. Did it not stand to reason, then, that she, Liz, was no hero? What if, without realizing it, she had pressured Georgi into feeling as if she had to attend this swim meet for the good of the team?

No: she had told all her swimmers, time and again, that the meet was optional. She had also told Georgi that she could not overrule her brother’s wishes. Yet here she was, at Georgi’s request, tasked with trying once more to change Dr. Fitzwilliam Darcy’s mind.

There was something else at work here. Georgi clearly loved her brother—and he, it had to be said, clearly loved her. Then why couldn’t Georgi talk this out with him? What was making him so stubbornly refuse her request?

“Coach,” said Georgi, again glancing anxiously between them, “this is my brother.”

Liz took a deep breath and smiled—a natural smile, for all her discomfort. As much as she wished she were not having this conversation, she wanted the best for Georgi. For her sake, she would apologize and play nice.

“Hi,” she said, striding toward him with a hand outstretched. “I’m Liz.”

She saw his shoulders stiffen and his mouth form a tight line of disapproval. He’s going to snub you…

Except then Darcy glanced over at his sister and sighed.

“Will,” he said, taking hold of Liz’s hand.

Was it how he said his name—voice dipping lower, a little rough around the edges—that made her shiver? Or was it how his hand felt around hers—cool, firm, also (to her surprise) a little rough around the edges?

No, it was just the strangeness of the situation—or the weather! Yes, it was the weather. She was wearing shorts and t-shirt over her swimsuit; her hair was still wet from her pre-practice swim; it was January in New England. True, the natatorium boasted a state-of-the-art heating system, but they were standing near an exterior door of the lobby. No doubt someone had just come into the building, bringing a gust of winter wind with them.

(No one had just come into the building.)

Their eyes met, and she felt her smile slip and her breath hitch. The devil, she thought stupidly, and shivered a second time.

Yanking her hand out of his, she turned to Georgi. “You’d better get your things before I have to lock up for the night.”

“Right!” She hurried toward the pool door, then stopped. Again, the anxious glance between them. “Will, if you could just…if you’d just listen to her, to Dr. Bennet, she…”

“How about you meet us at the dorm?” Liz cut in gently. “Your brother and I can chat on our walk across campus.”

Georgi nodded, looking relieved as she hurried off. Liz wished she, too, could hurry off. What was it about this man that got under her skin?

As she turned back to face him, it struck her that she’d actually met him before. Well, no, not exactly met him—but he’d been to her class during Fall Family Weekend, when parents and guardians spent a day trailing their students around campus in an effort to experience something like a typical boarding school day. Of course, it wasn’t a typical day: lessons were shortened, the students were anxious, and the cozy classrooms were crowded with visitors sitting awkwardly in folding chairs around the edges of the room. Some of the parents spent the entire class gazing adoringly at their child; others never looked up from their phones.

And Will Darcy? He’d watched the seminar discussion with such laser focus that Liz had wondered just who he was. Too young to be a parent, too old to be a sibling (or so she had assumed)…

She’d not found out his name that day. When the class had ended, she’d been too busy chatting with parents to see which student he followed out of the room. But she had seen him one more time that day: under the lawn tent, just before dinner, when the parents and other guests mingled without their students. Liz usually avoided these adult-only gatherings like the plague, but she had promised Char (who, as Science Department Chair, was obligated to attend) that she’d be her wingman. The two of them were just grabbing a drink (sparkling water only; they were both on dorm duty that night) when she saw him talking with Congresswoman Forster, mother of the most talkative senior Liz taught.

“Didn’t you just love their English class?” the Congresswoman had gushed.

Darcy had shrugged. “It was tolerable, but not interesting enough to tempt me.”

Afterward, on their way to dorm duty, Liz and Charlotte had laughed so hard they had both ended up with a case of the hiccups. And for the next few days, everything they did not like became “tolerable.” Then an avalanche of grading, a plagiarism case, a dorm-wide outbreak of Norovirus, and several other mini-crises pushed the incident completely from Liz’s mind.

Until now. Tolerable?

As she stared up at him—goodness, he was tall—she reminded herself to keep her pride in check. This conversation was not about her; it did not matter if he found her class boring. All that mattered was Georgi’s well-being. If nothing else, he had shown himself to be a sincerely devoted brother. She had to make him understand that, despite her unprofessional email to him, she truly cared about his sister.

So she was fully prepared to offer an apology—or at least to make a self-deprecating joke—when suddenly, seemingly out of nowhere, came the cry, “Mr. Darcy! Mr. Darcy! Mister Darcy!”

Liz’s mouth fell open—and for just a moment, she wondered if she was trapped in poorly-plotted time travel story and the person crying “Mr. Darcy” was her snarky future self, thwarting her attempt to apologize.

Then she recognized the voice, cringed, and wished it actually was her future self striding into view.

No such luck: it was Catherine deBourgh, the click-clack of her heels ricocheting through the lobby.

“It is so very good to welcome you back to Meryton Academy, Mr. Darcy!”

Liz couldn’t help herself: she met Darcy’s eye and mouthed, Mister?

There was no blaming the weather this time: when the corner of his mouth curved upward, just so, the shiver that ran through her was white hot.

“I had no idea you planned to visit us today,” Catherine continued. And then, with a glance at Liz, she added, “If I’d been informed, I would have had my assistant, Collins, ensure you were properly welcomed.”

Liz had to resist the urge to roll her eyes.

“In fact, I’m here only to take my sister to dinner,” said Darcy.

“Oh, dear Georgiana! We are so happy she finally decided to attend M.A. She has truly thrived here—has she not, Miss Bennet?”

Now he was the one who met her gaze: Miss?

Liz pressed her lips together, hoping she appeared serious (and not on the verge of bursting out laughing). “Yes, Cathy, we really are very glad Georgi is a student here.”

Catherine must not have heard Liz, for she was already saying to Darcy, “I believe Georgiana is a primary example of our motto for this academic year: Bloom Where You Are Planted.”

Their eyes met a third time, and Liz thought she could put up with any number of insults or ridiculous comments from Catherine deBourgh if it meant exchanging these laughing glances with him.

“Now,” said Catherine, “do you have dinner reservations? If not, I insist you and Georgiana dine with me at the Head’s House. I did not know to inform the catering staff, of course, but I am certain they will be able to whip something up. Do you have any dietary restrictions?”

“We have plans,” he said, “so if you will excuse me…”

“Oh! Well, of course,” said Catherine, not managing to hide her irritation at the abrupt nature of his refusal—and Liz had to admit, she liked her better for it. Catherine deBourgh might be domineering and pretentious, but she was tough-as-nails (she had to be, as the first female Head of School) and could only pretend to grovel at the feet of wealthy donors for so long.

Catherine turned to Liz. “Well, come along, Miss Bennet, we do not want to keep Mr. Darcy from his sister.”

“In fact, I need to speak with Dr. Bennet before I leave,” said Darcy.

Catherine looked between the two of them. “What about?”

Liz’s stomach clenched, and she had to force herself to look anywhere but at Will Darcy. She might have just exchanged some pleasant banter with him, but he could still rake her over the coals for her unprofessionalism–and she wouldn’t be able to blame him for it, either. Still, she refused to ask for any favors from him…

“If there are any problems with Georgiana’s education,” continued Catherine, “I simply must have a share of that conversation. I believe in accountability for my teachers—and I know that Miss Bennet here, while a gifted teacher in many ways, can sometimes be a rather obstinate—”

“It is merely a logistical matter regarding an upcoming swim meet,” interrupted Darcy. “So, if you will excuse us, Mrs. DeBourgh…”

Catherine pursed her lips. “Very well, then. Good evening, Mr. Darcy.”

Only when they could no longer hear the click-clack of Catherine’s heels did Liz speak: “I need to lock up before we go.”

The words were quiet, almost abashed. She ought to have apologized—or thanked him. But she hated the idea of being beholden to him, even though she was grateful for how much kinder he was being about all of this than she had expected.

Darcy gave a curt nod, and as Liz went about the business of closing up the pool, she wondered just who this man really was: the caring brother, the aloof businessman, or the devil who made her blood run hot, not cold?

Read on for the next part...

*Thanks again to Lisa for suggesting the suit! And thanks  to everyone for reading! Feel free to leave any comments or suggestions below!