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Elizabeth finally gave in to her fatigue and sat on the couch. Jane grabbed her legs, lifting and pivoting them so Elizabeth was stretched out on the cushions. She disappeared into the bedroom and reappeared with a pillow from the bed. Elizabeth raised her head obediently, and Jane placed it behind her. As she lowered into its softness, the faint scent of Will's cologne wafted through the air, and that was all it took for tears to cloud her eyes. She swiped at them roughly, struggling to hold them in.
“What did I do, Jane? Why won’t he talk to me?” Elizabeth’s annoyance shifted to anger, and her voice rose. “He justleftme there! Who does something like that?”
Jane shrugged but remained silent, and Elizabeth knew that for once, her sister had no idea what to say to make her feel better.
“Remember when you asked me the other day if it felt like Will and I had known each other longer than we have?” Elizabeth asked, and Jane nodded. “I told you that sometimes it feels like we've known each other for years, but other times…” She shook her head. “This is one of those other times. I have no idea what he’s thinking. Right now, I feel like I don't know him at all.”
* * *
Charles's mouth dropped open.“Are you sure it was her? Are you sure it washim?”
Will nodded. He’d told Charles, with as much indifference as he could muster, about the pictures he’d discovered in Elizabeth's house. Now he patiently waited for his friend to tell himexactlywhat to do, because he was at a loss.
“There has to be an explanation,” Charles said. “Think about it. I remember you saying that Wickham made it look as though Georgiana was compliant in the pictures he took of her, and you nearly believed something that went against your nature, about your sister. What if this is the same type of situation?”
“If it was, and Elizabeth was–was victimized by him, why would she keep the pictures? They were tucked away in a drawer, like some kind of fucked-up souvenir.” Will shook his head. “I've thought about it, believe me. It's all I thought about last night.”
Charles frowned. “Maybe the whole thing is a coincidence. She might not know there's a connection between him and Georgie. Maybe she doesn’t know that he’s—that he’s the one—”
“I thought about that… When she found out what happened to Georgiana, she was genuinely shocked. I thought back to when we talked about it, and I don't remember ever mentioning his name to her, and I don't know if Georgie did… It’s possible she doesn’t know his history. Still, the rest of it being coincidental…she justhappensto run into me on the beach with a camera? Justhappensto know him? And even though I couldn't see her–her face in the picture… It was her bed. And her hair…” He cleared his throat, and his voice was rough when he spoke again. “I have no idea how old the pictures are, but it was him. In her bed.”
“I can't believe it.”
“Me either. I've tried to think of an explanation, but…”
“Maybe he's blackmailing her.”
Will shook his head. “There's no logical reason for that. I mean, what does he have to gain by blackmailing her? She doesn't have money to pay him off, and she certainly hasn't asked me for any. It doesn't make sense.”
Charles stared into his coffee. “Do you think she's been cheating on you? That she's been seeing him behind your back?”
“No. I think whatever happened between them is over.”
“Do you think she was working with him?”
Will shrugged. “It’s possible. That's what I've been thinking. Maybe Wickham was stupid enough to try to come after me again. Maybe he asked her to get some photos of me, or Georgiana, and she agreed...then she meets me again at your house and realizes she has an even better way in with me.”
“But how would they have met? What are the chances?”
Will threw up his hands. “I don't know, Charles! At a photography thing? Who knows? I have so many different scenarios running through my head, I can't keep anything straight.”
“But whatever happened back then... Her feelings for you are real. She loves you.”
“I know she does,” Will responded softly. “At least, I think she does.”
“So why are you giving everything up?”
“Why? Because my entire relationship with her is built on a lie. A falsehood.That’swhy. Am I just supposed to forget about this and pretend it didn't happen? Am I just supposed to say, 'Oh that's okay, honey, it's in the past'?”
“Hold on. Everything you just told me is conjecture. You have no idea if the story you’ve concocted is the real story. You said it yourself, you have all these different scenarios—”
“Can you come up with a better explanation? Something plausible that explains why my girlfriend has pictures of George Wickham in her bed? Why she’s in that bedwithhim? She told me that until she met me, she hadn't been with anyone since her college boyfriend. But she didn't move into that house untilaftershe finished college. You're a bright man, Charles. Do the math and tell me it’s just a coincidence.”
Charles sighed. “You have totalkto her. You can't let your actions be dictated by assumptions. You can't. You owe it to her to talk to her, to hear her out, to let her explain.”
“There is no explanation! He wasin her bed! How can I talk to her about that? I can't.”
“You can, and you have to.”
