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As Lydia’s first industry event since the accident, her trip to the Oscars was garnering a fair amount of media scrutiny. All the drama about who had driven her car had heightened interest in the story and transformed Lydia into a media darling.
Oddly enough, she didn’t seem to care. Over the past three months, she had devoted all her energy to physical therapy and her recovery. She still needed a crutch to walk, but the therapists thought she’d be past that stage soon.
Lydia cut her mother off. “Mom, I told you, no more auditions! I’m on a crusade to rid the world of coral lipstick.” She had indeed declared her desire to quit acting and become a makeup designer. Their mother was reluctant to accept her youngest daughter’s decision, but Lydia seemed happ
y—and more than a little relieved—with her choice.
“But there’s another role that would be perfect—” Franny Bennet was nothing if not persistent.
“No,” Lydia said emphatically.
Without missing a beat, her mother turned to Kitty. “What do you think, Kitty? Could you limp convincingly?
“Me? You want me to audition?” Kitty positively glowed in the light of her mother’s attention while Lydia seemed equally pleased to have lost it.
Every time Elizabeth saw Lydia’s crutch, she felt a flare of anger at George Wickham, which was only partially mitigated by knowing that he’d be in prison for a long time. It hadn’t taken much pressure from the police before Flip had agreed to turn state’s evidence and give up Wickham’s location. The reckless driving charge alone wouldn’t have gotten him that much jail time, but police had found sufficient quantities of opioids to put him away for a while.
Elizabeth leaned across her sister to squeeze Ricky’s hand. “I don’t have to worry about giving a speech,” Elizabeth said to them both. “I’m just here for moral support, so let me know if I can help.”
Jane returned a grateful but slightly worried smile; surely she had noticed the way Elizabeth was fidgeting with the folds of her dress. Jane could always tell when her sister was fronting. Although Elizabeth didn’t have the weight of an Oscar hanging over her head, the prospect of seeing Will again was just as daunting.
She had expected to hear from him after Garrett’s actions cleared his name. When that hadn’t happened, Elizabeth had called and texted him, only to discover he had changed his number. Perhaps he hadn’t intended it as a signal that he wasn’t interested in continuing their relationship, but Elizabeth took it that way. Her number hadn’t changed; he wouldn’t have had trouble getting in touch with her.
She concluded that he simply couldn’t get past his disgust with her family. After all, they had nearly gotten him arrested and had refused to tell the press they believed in his innocence. In his shoes, she would probably want to avoid everything Bennet as well.
And then the celebrity internet sites had been full of pictures of Will with Caroline Bingley at various premieres, restaurants, and industry events. Certainly it made far more sense for him to date a fellow actress than to pursue a wannabe doctor.
Elizabeth had had three months to get over it. And those months had been full: being a lab assistant at a clinic in L.A., helping Lydia recover, and completing med school applications. She didn’t think about Will much during the day, but at night when she couldn’t sleep…that was a different story. That was when every muscle in her body seemed to stiffen, and scenes from their glorious weekend together replayed in her head. At those moments, the prospect of encountering Will at the Oscars made her hands sweat and her heart beat more rapidly.
She had considered skipping the event, but In the Shadows was nominated in so many categories that she simply couldn’t stay home.
It had been awkward when she needed a date. Her life had been so busy she hadn’t had time to date, but she’d had an extra ticket. Charlotte had actually offered to lend her Bill; Elizabeth had somehow managed to decline without gagging.
She had considered various possibilities—friends or ex-boyfriends—but nothing seemed right. Until she had arrived at the perfect solution. She turned and smiled at her date, who smiled back. At least that part wouldn’t be awkward.
Then suddenly they were pulling up in front of the auditorium and the chauffeur was opening the door—and still Elizabeth didn’t feel quite ready. Her parents and younger sisters exited first. The media fussed and exclaimed over Lydia and her date.
When Jane emerged with Ricky, the crowd erupted in cheers. Her portrayal of Jordan had been a fan favorite, and she had already won a Golden Globe. Nobody even noticed when Elizabeth and her date stepped out of the limo, but she was just as happy. Being at the Oscars was overwhelming enough; she didn’t need additional scrutiny.
An usher held them back while Ricky and Jane greeted the phalanx of reporters, giving each one of them a soundbite before moving on to the next. Elizabeth didn’t mind waiting; she craned her neck to spot celebrities entering the auditorium.
Then the usher instructed them to stay on the left side of the red carpet—which was rather wide— and walk directly toward the main entrance. Elizabeth had been briefed that non-celebrities were shuffled to the left so they wouldn’t interfere with the celebrity interviews taking place on the right side. As they hurried along the path, Elizabeth did her best to look around and soak up the ambience.
She passed an entertainment show host interviewing Glenn Close and then an ABC News reporter chatting with Billy Crystal. Next up was her father talking with great solemnity to a reporter from The New York Times. They were nearing the entrance; Elizabeth wondered which movie stars she would see inside.
Then she faltered. The last couple being interviewed on the red carpet was Caroline Bingley…and William Darcy.
***
Darcy had been to the Academy Awards seven times, and this was his third nomination. In the past he had been nervous about many of the details: whether he had the most au courant look or the right designer tux or if he could make the necessary industry contacts. When he was a presenter, he’d focused on not flubbing his lines. When he was a nominee, all his energy had been concentrated on giving a speech if he won, which he hadn’t—so far.
Tonight, however, all he could think about was his date: who she was and who he wished she was. For a brief shining moment after the premiere, he had dreamed of walking the red carpet with Elizabeth on his arm. What a fool he’d been to ever worry that she didn’t have the Hollywood “look” or that she wasn’t a name the reporters would recognize. Now he’d give anything to face such “worries.”
Even now he couldn’t help picturing her by his side on the red carpet or during the ceremony. She would make sardonic comments in his ear while they sat through endless speeches and would whisper words of encouragement while he waited to hear if they would announce his name. Her presence would make the whole thing bearable; Caroline’s certainly wouldn’t.
But then…Wickham had happened. The guy was like a man-sized natural disaster. Darcy couldn’t be happier that he was facing a nice, long prison term. But revealing the truth didn’t undo the damage the man had caused. If Wickham hadn’t tried to frame Darcy, he might be here with Elizabeth. He tried to push such thoughts out of his mind, but the Academy Awards seemed to have reset his emotional dial to “gloom.”
I’m probably idealizing Elizabeth, he told himself. She would have seen through me eventually; she would have figured out that I didn’t deserve her. No doubt it was better this way, with their relationship confined to the memory of one perfect weekend.
