Fitzwilliam Darcy, Rock Star (38 page)

The air of gloom had even touched Jane and Charles. They became prone to long periods of silence when they would just hold each other tightly, unable to talk about what was disturbing them, yet unable to find comfort anywhere else.

It was killing Charles that he couldn’t tell Jane the truth. He needed her at that time, needed her understanding and comfort. His father’s incarceration for insider trading twelve months ago had been a source of private torment. It caused him to question the legal system and meaning of morality. Charles knew in his heart that his father was a good person, yet he was a convicted criminal in jail. He had never been able to reconcile these two realities in his mind, and now that his father was facing release, he found they disturbed him again.

He wanted so much to share this with Jane, to share his worries about what his father would be like. He was certain that prison changed him. A part of him was afraid of what he would find when his dad was released, and he longed to unburden himself of all those fears in the woman who had come to mean everything to him. But he knew he couldn’t. Darcy had been right. They had tried too hard to keep the secret. He couldn’t risk it now.

For her part, Jane could not understand what was going on with Charles. At moments he would look at her and hold her with so much love, she felt she would burst, and at other times, his eyes were filled with a profound sadness that made her blood run cold. She found herself questioning everything: herself, Charles, their relationship, his feelings, and her feelings. Doubts were weighing her down, and the only times she felt comforted was in her music.

The new song had been completed. It had changed from a simple love song to one of yearning, expressing the feelings she could not put into spoken words. Yet it still maintained the basic upbeat spirit that was Jane’s nature.

They would rehearse it every afternoon, and in a way, it served its purpose. The bands did spend time together, just the six of them, and they got to know different sides of each other. It would be true to say that exposure to the true musicianship of each person caused them all to fall deeper in love, but only Jane and Charles were free to admit it.

Each of them had brought something different to the song: Jane had provided the lyrics and melody, while Charles had provided the initial harmonies. Charlotte had provided a Latin beat, which had allowed Jane’s voice to take on a slow and sultry air, and Richard had added a wealth of accent percussion, adding an energy and excitement to the song. Elizabeth had brought her formidable theory talents to bear and had written an elaborate orchestration for the song, making it thick with a brass section, as well as adding her voice and guitar.

But it was Darcy who totally changed the song. After three days of doing little more than observing, he came in on that Tuesday with a guitar solo that blew them all away.

Charles was grinning like a maniac as Darcy’s electric guitar became another voice, singing a duet with Jane’s. “I knew it!” he proclaimed to the group. Richard also grinned, glad Darcy was finally participating.

Shock would be the best way to describe LBS’s reaction. “Guitar virtuoso” was a title that had been dropped around Darcy so many times it had become meaningless with repetition. Nevertheless, when faced with this demonstration of his talent, they were forced to acknowledge his legitimate skill.

Jane was delighted, eager to share her song with him and the excitement of creating something new. She threw herself into the song with even greater enthusiasm. Charlotte was pleased as well. Suddenly the song had become something exciting and completely different. It was no longer a product of LBS’s with some backup help from Slurry; it was now a true collaboration.

Elizabeth was the only one not enraptured. She certainly couldn’t deny Darcy’s musicianship or that his addition had dramatically improved the song. But she was angered by where it left her. True, she had a very clear acoustic guitar line, and her vocal harmonies with Jane were crucial, but it infuriated her that Darcy had to step forward and grab the spotlight. It was so typical of what she knew of him. He couldn’t be a part of the ensemble; he had to be the star.

She felt pushed aside by him, and it hurt her more than she could admit or understand that he wasn’t willing to play with her. It was only in being denied what she wanted that she really understood what it was. She wished they could have played together: a real duet, between the two of them. But instead she was stuck playing backup while he played the star.

***

Charlotte took a deep breath and forced her feet to move. It was the last day of tour before the break and the last hour of free time before they faced the meet-and-greet and then performed.

She found him and was grateful he was alone. He was hanging out by the bathrooms, smoking. “You’re not supposed to do that inside, you know,” she said lightly.

Richard looked at his cigarette and shrugged. “It’s too hot to smoke outside.”

Charlotte lifted half of her mouth in a smile. “Good point. Do you mind?” she asked, pulling out her own pack.

Richard shook his head and made room for her. While it was a casual action he had done a hundred times, it was touched with melancholy. Even this straightforward act of sharing a cigarette break with Charlotte had become so dear to him he almost couldn’t stand it. He stared at her as she lit her cigarette, her head turned down slightly, and he tried to understand it. When had her face become the most beautiful he had ever known? When had her voice, her eyes, her smile become a part of him? He struggled to maintain his calm, wanting to both run away and to throw himself at her.

“How are you doing?” he asked with forced casualness.

Charlotte smiled, a vain attempt to pretend. “Okay. You know.”

Richard nodded. He knew.

“What are you going to do during the break?” she asked, playing the game with him.

“Oh, I’ve got my cousin’s graduation on Sunday, then I’m probably just going to hang out at home.”

“In the city?”

“No, my family has a summer place in Massachusetts.”

Charlotte nodded. He was so easygoing with her; it was easy for her to forget how wealthy he was.

“What about you?”

“Oh, pretty much the same. Alex has some record signings for us, and the VMAs of course, but otherwise I’m just going to crash at home.” She took another drag and looked straight ahead. “You know, Massachusetts isn’t that far from me. Maybe we could get together during the break.”

Richard grimaced. He hated this. He hated the way she was desperately throwing herself at him, he hated the way he wanted her so badly, he hated this stupid charade they were playing, trying to pretend this wasn’t killing them inside. “No, Charlotte,” he said angrily.

She looked at him then, and nothing could mask the hurt in her eyes.

“Don’t you get it, Char? I’m no good for you! What do I have to do? I’ve tried over and over again to make you see. I’ve given you every excuse. Just walk away from me!”

“No,” she said softly. “I can’t.”

Richard closed his eyes and drew a long breath. “Do you realize what you are doing? You can’t turn away from something that’s harming you. Do you know what that is Char? It’s addiction.”

“Really?” she said, pulling the last bit of her dignity together. “I thought it was compassion.”

Richard flinched. When he spoke again his voice was softer, pleading. “Please, Charlotte, don’t do this. Don’t hurt yourself anymore. Turn away from me.”

Her eyes were large and pouring into his. “Don’t you think I’ve tried?”

Richard looked down and licked his bottom lip nervously. In a voice that was little more than a whisper, he asked, “Do you love me, Char?”

“Yes,” she whispered back, not needing to think about it. “I wish I didn’t, I know it’s all wrong, but I do.”

With great sadness, he took her into his arms and kissed the top of her head tenderly. “I’m sorry, Char. I’m so sorry.”

Charlotte screwed up her eyes, forcing her tears back. She didn’t need to ask what he meant. She had never had to. They had always understood each other. He didn’t love her; he couldn’t. She had to give him up. She embraced the bitter knowledge that of all the women in North America, she was the only one being denied what would mean the most to her, him. That pain helped her pull away. “Have a good break, Richard,” she said as calmly as she could.

“You too, Char,” he told her, unable to see her face but knowing what it contained. He felt a huge emptiness opening inside of him, which could only be filled in one way. The pain brought him up short, and the lies he told himself could no longer be believed. Turning away from her had been hard, but turning back to her would be even harder. But he had failed at forgetting her, so now he had no choice. If he was going to survive, he would have to change. He couldn’t do it for his own sake, but he would try for hers.

***

They ended the set with “Lost Myself,” the way they always did. The room was alive, the energy of the crowd feeding the energy onstage in a symbolic cycle. Charles’s voice, rough and gritty, had filled the hall, paired flawlessly with Darcy’s guitar.

From her place offstage, Elizabeth watched alone, feeling once again that gnawing desire that she had come to despise as her own weakness. She hated that she wanted him, she lusted for him, and she burned for his touch. It was wrong. It was wrong in so many ways she couldn’t even count them, but here, alone in the dark, she let her desire run wild. She let her eyes drink in his tall form; she pictured his long arms holding her tightly. She recalled the heady scent of his skin, alive with the fresh sweat of the show. For a moment she would have given anything to feel him on her, pressing her flat and invading her body. But it was impossible. He was the sweetest fruit and completely forbidden to her.

“Thank you!” Charles’s voice cut off her yearning, and her attention snapped to the here and now. “We’ve got something special for you tonight!”

Elizabeth moved forward onto the stage with Charlotte and Jane, and the crowd began cheering. “You know how wonderful our opening act is,” Charles paused for more cheering. “Well, we’ve been working together and we have something to share with you.”

Charlotte walked to her usual space as Richard stood. “This is your chair,” he told her, with an unusual expression of seriousness on his face. Charlotte took her place behind the drum kit.

Darcy turned to Elizabeth as she plugged in the hookup for her Gibson and set up her microphone. His eyes inquired if she was ready, hers answered that she was.

Jane walked fearlessly to the mic stand, which Charles yielded to her. Then everyone turned to Darcy and Elizabeth. They would be starting together on the same beat. Their eyes locked as Charlotte raised her hand to the cymbal.

Without an outward sign, they all moved simultaneously and they were off. Jane began singing with a voice full of longing.

Darcy’s awareness was limited to a tiny area, encompassing only himself, his guitar, and Elizabeth. He didn’t even hear Jane or the others. It was only he and she. He was playing to her. He hoped she could hear it, that every riff was for her, telling her of his feelings. He watched her play, skipping in and out of her rhythms, sometimes moving with her, sometimes dancing around her.

His eyes were focused on her, and his fingers required no additional guidance. He smiled his private smile for her, knowing this was one place she could not avoid him. It didn’t even matter that she didn’t return it; she understood. He moved with her, circling each other, her Gibson to his PRS, balanced perfectly together.

When she had to stop before the microphone to sing, he positioned himself beside her, close enough to touch her, as he played along with her voice. This was the time he had been waiting for, the time when she was his alone. There was no escape for either of them, no retreat. He played the oldest song known: a song of prowess, designed to prove himself worthy of her.

It didn’t matter now that they were parting as soon as the song was over. It was only a temporary separation, but the marking he made on her was permanent. She would be his. He was playing for her, something he had never done for another woman, and he knew the power of his music. Like Orpheus, no one could resist it.

Playfully he finished the song, his spell complete, his point won. He bowed low to Elizabeth, his eyes never leaving hers, before they addressed the screaming fans. He held out his hand to her, and as he knew she would, she took it. Together they bowed to the audience, who had witnessed his performance.

They left the stage together and walked to the instrument area. Darcy put away his PRS, not needing to say anything to her, as she stored her Gibson. When she rose, he faced her. He saw the uncertainty in her eyes as he gently touched her cheek. “Good-bye, Elizabeth. Have a good break,” he said, kissing her. Her lips welcomed his of their own volition.

They kissed for a long moment before he pulled back. The uncertainty was still there. He recognized that she wasn’t even aware of what happened. He smiled kindly to her and walked away to the limo that would take him and Richard to their flight. His pride wished that Elizabeth recognized what had happened, that she had leapt into his arms and asked to come with him, but it didn’t matter. She was his, and she would know it soon enough.