Compulsively Mr. Darcy (9 page)

Jane watched Elizabeth, in her underwear and bra, throw a shirt onto the floor then stick her head into a corner armoire. Her sister pulled out another shirt identical to the one just discarded. Jane laughed. “I like this new girly-girl you. I've never seen you this flustered about your clothes before.”

“Arrggh. I can't find anything right to wear.”

Jane eyed the frayed edges of her sister's underwear. “You need some new clothes, especially new undies, sexy ones—not grandma type.”

“I hate shopping.”

“How about getting a whole new wardrobe made by a good seamstress? It's not too much money. Chau's mom could help arrange it,” Jane suggested. “Which reminds me, should we be better hosts and take Bill Collins off their hands?”

“No. He likes their attention and they like giving it to him. He's their American pet. They have the patience of saints.” Elizabeth threw the second shirt on the floor and disappeared into the armoire again. A moment later, her head reappeared. “Jane, do you think I'm sexually unappealing?”

Jane almost laughed until she realized her sister was indeed serious. “Is it not going… well?”

“No.” Elizabeth's face was the color of a pink lychee fruit. “I mean, it's just not going. I think my being a virgin inhibits him. We kiss, and I want more, but then he always stops. We've been dating seriously for days now, and we seem to have gone backward.”

“Days and nothing has happened? Imagine that,” Jane said dryly. Trust Elizabeth to be impatient. The girl waited all this time to have sex and now she wanted it yesterday.

“The blood! He's afraid of the blood.”

“You're not thinking clearly. Your brain is clouded by lust. He's not going to be afraid of a little blood if it means he gets into your pants.”

“If only I'd paid closer attention to that porn film during my human sexuality class in psychiatry, the part when they talked about reading your partner's signals.”

“You sound like you're talking about an Animal Planet film on mating instead of titillating porn.”

“I am titillated. By him! Every time I see him I want to rip his clothes off and feel his body and—”

“Okay, okay, stop!” Jane firmly cut in. “TMI! I get the picture. It's not a test you can prepare for by studying. Just let it flow.”

“But it's not flowing. He stops. I need clear instructions on how to get him to keep going.” Elizabeth's blush was now the color of passion fruit. “What if I tell you I did something so unusual that I probably disgusted him the first time we were, um… fooling around?”

“I'm sure you didn't.”

“I'm thinking I did,” Elizabeth insisted, still blushing. “That's why I've been waiting for him to make the first move. What if I mess up again? What if I miss an important cue or something?”

“You're being a mushroom head. Stop overthinking. It will come naturally at the right time, trust me.” Jane couldn't believe she was giving sex advice to Lizzy, the intrepid, adventurous one. “They don't let unmarried people stay together in the same hotel room here. How are you going to get together with him?”

“It's not that strict at the resort. Besides, William and I have been in each other's room.”

“Lizzy, you have to be discreet. You're probably being watched a bit closer than the usual tourist. You're staff there, as little as you do,” Jane reminded her sister. With the orphanage next door, there was no possibility of William spending the night at their cottage.

The sound of a hammer banging interrupted. Elizabeth peered out the window into the orphanage's courtyard. “Charles has made some progress, I see.”

“Yes, slowly,” Jane said. Charles had offered to build a new playground for the orphanage, a one- or two-day project that had stretched much longer. Jane suddenly remembered Elizabeth planned to take William for a tour of the historical fifteenth-century town nearby. “Are you meeting William here for your trip to Hoi An this morning?”

“No, at the resort. I need to go the hospital to check on some patients first though. Did I tell you an anonymous donor from some charitable foundation in New York has paid for many of the patients' medications?” Elizabeth put on another shirt. “Speaking of New York, William has been staying up late making calls to there. I think he's looking hard for employment.”

“You ‘think'?”

“He's not aware I know he's unemployed.” Elizabeth buttoned her shirt. “He'd feel bad if he discovered I already know Charles is covering his expenses here. Remember Charles told us about William looking for work, when he apologized for William's abrupt leaving that day at Merry Bar?”

“If William's embarrassed about being unemployed, then I guess it's too early in your relationship to be talking about a sensitive topic like that. That reminds me, you have enough money for your trip today?”

“I'm not going to buy anything. William always insists on paying if I even express the slightest interest, so I'm not even going to look at anything at all. It's bad enough he won't let me share our expenses.”

“I'm sure he can still afford the occasional day trip and a trinket or two. He's on vacation, after all. What kind of work does he do? I know it's some kind of corporate business, work, right?”

Elizabeth nodded. “Something involving studying a lot of spreadsheets. He looks at numbers and sees how a company is doing financially.”

“Some kind of auditing or accounting work, then. He does fit the accountant type—very methodical and detail-oriented. Do you think he's embarrassed about being an unemployed accountant while he's dating you, a doctor? Some men might have a complex about that.”

“He definitely fits the type. He's a proud and prickly kind of guy.” Elizabeth made a face. “Always trying to prove to me he can afford things and never looks at the prices.”

Jane said, “Not everyone counts their pennies like you do. But then, technically, you're also unemployed. Oh, Mom called. There's a letter for you from Doctors Without Borders. Dad read the letter and said it's nothing. I think Mom's worried you're going to go somewhere dangerous after Vietnam.”

“She worries too much.”

***

“How about a break?” Chau stood in the doorway of Elizabeth's office and held two cups of drip coffee in her hands.

“Come in. I'd love some.” Elizabeth smiled at her friend and accepted a cup. “I don't see your shadow.”

“Bill left to meet with a friend, a Mr. Wickham.”

Elizabeth almost dropped her coffee cup in her surprise. “Bill's friends with George Wickham?”

“They met in Tai Pei, on the way here. I think Bill must have told Mr. Wickham about your working at the resort. My brother said Mr. Wickham had been looking for you for a couple of days before he met up with you. Bill tried to give him some medical advice”—Chau smiled a rueful smile—“but if Mr. Wickham was looking for you, he must have needed to see a real doctor.”

Elizabeth frowned. William was right: George Wickham had sought her out to cause trouble for William. “Thanks for taking care of Bill. I know he's a pain.”

Chau set down her cup. “I'm going to marry him.”

“What?” Elizabeth laughed and took a sip of her coffee. “I'm sorry. For a moment I thought you said you're going to marry him.”

“I did… say that.”

“But why?” Elizabeth said before she could stop herself. “I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that.”

“I want to get married. He's a good man. He appreciates me and my family. I think he's lonely. Though his mother is alive, he can't live with her and she won't let him.” Chau's tone was both puzzled and sad.

About to explain American parents didn't feel the need to live with or take care of their grown children, Elizabeth stopped herself, ruefully recognizing the futility of explaining that concept to her traditional Vietnamese friend. Chau's culture valued filial and parental duty above all else. Instead, she simply said, “It's just the cultural difference between here and America. I haven't lived at home since I left for college, and Berkeley's only twenty minutes from Orinda, where my parents live.”

“I can't imagine not living with my parents if I wasn't married.”

“You're not rushing into marriage because you want to leave home, then?”

“Hardly.” In a serious tone, Chau added, “I'm not in love with Bill, nor he with me. Perhaps we'll have that romantic movie-ending love some day. I'm okay if we don't. I can be a good wife to him.”

“I'm sure you will.” Elizabeth longed to question out loud if Bill Collins would be a good husband, but she squashed the urge.

“Bill and I can make a marriage together and support each other. He has no job, and no one who cares for him to come home to now. I want to take care of him.”

Elizabeth couldn't see wanting to take care of a man, much less the annoying Bill Collins, as a good reason for marrying, but then an image appeared of William returning to New York, jobless, alone, and having no one to care for him. She reached a hand toward Chau's and said with true sincerity, “I understand perfectly.”

***

Later, when she got to the resort, Elizabeth went first to the Merry Bar and talked to Chau's brothers. She spent some time with them, making sure she got all her facts straight.

Afterward, she found William outside the resort, talking to a cyclo driver.

“Hi, sorry to keep you waiting,” she greeted William.

He introduced the cyclo driver. “This is Tri. He offered us a ride, but I told him we were taking a car to Hoi An.”

As they headed toward their car, she smiled at William. “Listen to you, chatting with a local like you're Charles Bingley's twin.”

He chuckled and confessed, “I didn't understand much of what Tri actually said. I guessed.”

She squeezed his hand. “But you're trying, and that's why I love you.”

They settled themselves into the car. Out of a corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of a man watching them from behind a palm tree. The driver maneuvered the car away from the resort and she worked to distract William from seeing George Wickham. She was determined not to have anyone ruin William's enjoyment of the day.

She knew how to take care of Wickham. No one messed with the man she loved.

“You look so serious.” Elizabeth handed Darcy a glass. “Here you go. I brought you an iced tea, love.”

“Thank you.” Darcy turned from watching the waves to smile at her. He loved how the endearment easily rolled off her tongue. “Just momentarily preoccupied with work-related thoughts.”

She sat down at the foot of his beach chair. “Have you been getting one of your headaches?”

He shifted his legs to make more room for her. “No. Why do you ask?”

“You're been distracted the last couple of days.”

“Have I been boring?” he teased and took a sip. “I've been up late making phone calls, work-related calls, that's all.”

“Tell me about these calls.”

“Nothing worth talking about.” He put down his iced tea and wrapped his arms around her, glad he'd reserved a private beachside cabana this evening. A cool ocean breeze brushed over them, loosening a few strands of her hair to stroke at his face. “I don't want to waste our time together talking about my work or, as is the case lately, my not working.”

She laid her hands on his arms. “About you not work—”

“Shhh. Let's enjoy ourselves and the view here,” he interrupted and nuzzled her hair, delighting in the hint of vanilla he smelled. He loved the way her long hair kept falling out of the clip she used to keep it tied back. She once confessed she kept it long only because she never had the time or money to keep it maintained in a shorter, more fashionable style.

Money. He swallowed a sigh. So stubborn, so sensitive, so poor, his proud Elizabeth always insisting he not spend money on her. The difference in their financial situation must bother her.

Earlier, after carefully perusing the prices on the menu at one of the restaurants in the resort, she asserted she'd preferred a picnic on the beach. Being frugal seemed to be very important to her. He usually went along with her budgeting quirks. He didn't want to prick her pride by making an issue of it, though he hoped she'd allow him to spoil her as their relationship progressed.

Her fingers tensed atop his arms. “William, you told me to ask if I had questions?”

He wondered why she was nervous. He kept his voice light to put her at ease. “What's going on in that head of yours?”

“Jane sometimes calls me a mushroom head, so top heavy I lose my balance, my common sense.”

“Elizabeth, you're stalling. What is it you're afraid to ask?” he said gently. When she remained silent, her fingers picking at his sleeves, he added in the same light tone, “Is this another question about my sexuality?”

“Yes… in a way.”

He stiffened. He turned her to face him. “I thought we settled that issue. I'm not gay.”

“That's not what I mean. I know you're not gay. It's just that I would like to…”

“Would like to?” he prompted.

The words rushed from her. “Why haven't you wanted to sleep with me?”

“There's nothing in the world I'd rather do now than to take you to my room and make love to you and not let you see the sun for days.”

Her eyes oversized and her cheeks crimsoned. “Oh.”

Chuckling, he lowered his head and briefly touched his lips to hers. “But, unfortunately, this isn't the right time or place.”

“Why?”

“The orphanage. You and Jane represent the orphanage. Mr. Luc warned me not to put your reputation, and the orphanage's, in danger with my behavior. He alluded to what happened between Wickham, you, and me that night at Merry Bar. And also afterward, when I spent the night in your room.”

“Your behavior? How can he talk to you when I was the one who got drunk?”

“When I first saw you with Wickham, I should have controlled myself and calmly approached you. I should have acted more decisively when I returned. I should not have just stood there, jealously thinking you were on a date and just let him buy you drinks. It was my fault, what happened that night.”

“You take on too much blame that's not yours,” she chided. “I was responsible for my poor judgment that night.”

“Of course you're not blameless,” he soothed. “I'm only admitting my part. I should have called your sister, instead of spending the night in your room.”

“I thought my… uh… rubbing against you that day disgusted you.” The redness returned to her face and her bottom lip disappeared.

He rubbed the soft pad of his thumb against her bottom lip to tease it to reappear. He whispered huskily, “I was very aroused by your enthusiasm and what you did.”

Her mouth parted. “Oh.”

He suppressed the urge to slip his tongue in between her lips to show her how much he liked what she did that day, and how much he fantasized her doing more of the same.

His phone rang. He looked at the caller ID. “My cousin,” he said to Elizabeth before answering, “What do you want, Richard?”

“Hey, Cuz. How's it going? Aren't you proud I woke up early to call you? Some of us have to work hard, you know, to make up for those lazing around refusing favors from beautiful women.” Richard's voice boomed loud enough to drown out the sound of the waves.

Darcy cringed and held the phone a few inches away from his ears. “Do you have some urgent news about work to tell me, or are you calling to annoy me again?”

“But annoying you is almost as much fun as doing it to Anne. Neither of you have a sense of humor.”

“No, don't go.” Darcy grabbed Elizabeth when she made a motion of moving away to give him privacy.

“Go? I'm not going anywhere. Darce?”

“I wasn't talking to you.” Darcy kept one arm around Elizabeth.

“Are you talking to the maids? Supervising their cleaning again, eh? You need to get dirty, Cuz. Stop worrying about being clean all the time. Stop spending your time brushing and flossing yourself to death.”

Embarrassed Elizabeth could hear his cousin's revealing comments about how Darcy had spent the first few days of his vacation, Darcy's tone was brusque. “If this is about the new company you wanted me to look at in Holland, the answer is no. I don't want to work with them. I want you to focus on that company we talked about last week. Check to see if they're willing to work with me long-term. They already have a big presence in New York.”

“I'll give up convincing you the Holland company is better if you send me a picture of you and a beautiful babe or two at the beach, all wearing thongs. Them, not you.”

Elizabeth tapped Darcy's arm and motioned for the phone. Enticed by the impish gleam in her eyes, he handed it over.

“Richard, I'm afraid Mr. Darcy can't talk business anymore.” In a sleepy, sexy, low voice, she breathed, “I need him to floss his teeth…”

“What?” Darcy exclaimed.

“What?” Richard echoed. “Who are you?”

“…with my thong. I'm his paid escort,” Elizabeth finished and hung up on Richard.

Darcy's mouth dropped open. Richard's mouth probably was too on the other side of the world.

She winked at him. “I always thought those thongs felt like butt floss.”

The image of her in a thong sent his pulse on a roller coaster ride. He closed his eyes and groaned. “Please, could we not talk about you and thongs right now?”

“You need to return to New York soon?”

Reminded, he sobered. Anne and Richard had been covering while he and Bingley took an extended vacation, but Darcy knew he needed to return to New York soon. He nodded. “I do need to get back.”

Her face fell.

He touched her cheek. “I hope not to be gone long. I'll check out this company and some others Richard wants me to look at, get everything settled, check in on my sister, then I
will
come back here.”

“When do you need to be back in New York?”

“Last week,” he admitted. “I couldn't go though, not while Wickham is here. I know you can take care of yourself, but I need to know that you'll be safe.”

“If he moves on to some other place, you can leave?”

“It's my paranoia, but I won't make the same mistake with you as I did with my sister last year. I take the threat of Wickham very seriously now.”

***

Later, as they headed back to their rooms, Darcy said, “How long are you working at the resort here?”

“Only until Hussein arrives, any day now. Why?”

He paused. “Sweetheart, I've learned your friend never had any intention of coming to replace you. From the start, you were always meant to be the doctor here the whole month.”

“What?”

“He's paying for your room and expenses. The only compensation the resort agreed to for you seeing patients was deep discounts on spa services, which I know you haven't taken advantage of. Not that you need to, by the way.”

“You mean I've been working here for free? They charged for my suite?” She gritted her teeth and walked faster now. “I can't believe it. I get nothing seeing stupid, rich tourists?”

He hoped she didn't include him in the group and rushed to keep up with her. “You work for free at the hospital.”

“That's different. Treating poor, appreciative patients is a privilege. Treating rich and ignorant people for free really, really pisses me off. I'm going to kill Hussein.”

“Tell me again about your arrangement with him? How well do you know him?”

She told him about Hussein and admitted he was one of her three previous boyfriends.

Darcy was immediately jealous and suspicious. “I'm expecting a background check report on him any day now. I ordered it as soon as I discovered your odd arrangement.”

“Oh.” She paused in her tracks for a moment. “I wish you wouldn't waste your money on that. He's harmless, as you'll undoubtedly discover.”

Surprised at her calm reaction, he admitted, “I thought you'd accuse me of interfering in your business.”

“I would have with anyone else, I suppose.” She shrugged and resumed walking. “But you need to be in control of your environment. It's part of your OCD. It's a normal protective drive to make sure those you care about are safe.”

“You're not angry?”

“Why would I be angry? It's not like you did it because you want to control me or make decisions for me. You need to do it to have peace. To soothe yourself. It's just like your cleaning and your hand washing.”

He had to swallow the lump in his throat. Since his mother died, he'd had an obsessive need for control. He didn't let many people into the sanctuary of his private life, mainly because the urge to safeguard those he cared about took so much energy he was often left exhausted. Though he didn't want the people he loved to feel stifled, he couldn't help his compulsion. Yet, here was this free-spirited, feisty, and fearless woman who loved him enough to allow him to do whatever he needed to feel safe, even if it meant taking charge of certain aspects of her life that she was more than capable of handling. Her love and easy acceptance of him—neuroses, phobias, compulsions, and all—humbled him.

“I'll call Hussein later and chew his ass out. He'll probably give me some twisted explanation of why he did it”—she kept walking—“just like he did with his excuse of why he became a Republican…”

She had moved on to another topic, Darcy bemusedly noted. Obviously, his shameful hang-up was not a big enough deal for her to discuss further.

He smiled.