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She feels like pouting. She feels like begging. She feels like grabbing his sleeve, dragging him over to his bed, and giving him more incentive to stay. But, Lizzie Bennet is a realist, so she steels herself against her surging emotions, and tries to put on a mask of passivity. They don’t have a choice in the matter; he has a business to run, and she has a project that needs her focus.
It is only six weeks, she thinks.
“Yes. I will miss you terribly and intend to immerse myself in work so that I do not have to wallow in your absence,” he teases.
Lizzie startles when she realizes that she must have spoken aloud. “And I know that I have to buckle down and get my thesis done.” She sighs. “But it’s going to be so weird without you here, after this past week. I’m going to miss your face.”
William chuckles as he folds a dress shirt and places it neatly in the suitcase that is open next to where Lizzie is perched on the bed. “Well, I have heard of a little app that can aid us in that regard. I believe it is called ‘Domino.’”
She smirks and swats at his waist. “It’s not the same, and you know it.” She rises unto her knees and leans against him. “And Domino can’t aid us in this regard,” she purrs before grabbing ahold of his tie and pulling him down to meet her. As their mouths come together, she brings her other hand up to run through his hair, but keeps her grip of his tie in place. He kisses her deeply but briefly, breaking away with a husky, “Lizzie. I have a plane to catch soon.”
She gives him one more gentle, close-lipped kiss before shoving his chest and joking, “Well, you have to have priorities, I guess.” He grabs a small leather bag off the bed as he turns away from her and heads to the bathroom.
As she listens to him packing away his toiletries, Lizzie settles back down on the bed. She lets her hand wander over the perfectly organized items in his open luggage. The crisp stiffness of his shirts, the rougher fabric of his slacks, even the supple cotton of his undershirts delights her fingertips. Just as she considers scolding herself for wantonly fondling his wardrobe, her pinky finger brushes against something cool and slippery and familiar. She grabs ahold of the thin strip of fabric, and slithers it free.
She runs it over her hand as she studies it; it is black with fine white polka dots, and will always bring back memories of her 25th birthday and the moment when William became hers. In the eight days since their first kiss, she has discovered that her fingers always gravitate towards his ties during intimate encounters. She’s had neither the time nor the desire to analyze why this is – probably something deep and significant about the ties being a representation of William as a whole. Maybe she just likes a well-dressed, respectful, old-fashioned type of guy? Or maybe – maybe it is something slightly perverse and scandalous that she doesn’t yet understand about herself; maybe, she thinks as she winds his tie around her hand, she appreciates the phallic shape, and visions of wrists tied to headboards using his ties…
Before she can further delve into her mind to find the answer, she hears him zip his travel pack and turn off the bathroom light. On impulse, she wads up the tie and jams it quickly into her pocket.
“Are you ready to drive me to the airport?” he asks.
“No. But I’ll do it anyhow.” She forces a smile at him.
That evening, she is already in bed when William calls. He sounds so pitiful, and she wishes she could gather him up and soothe him. He asks her to turn on the Domino app, and when his face appears on her screen, she notices that he looks exhausted but is still dressed in the same shirt and tie that he was wearing when she saw him board his plane. “I have to catch up a bit before going in to work tomorrow morning, but I wanted to see you before you fell asleep.”
She murmurs in assent and tells him, “Call me anytime, though. If you need to talk in the middle of the night, I’m here.”
From her tiny screen, his face softens and he inhales deeply. “I adore you, Lizzie Bennet. The past week has been the best time of my life, but the next six weeks will be among the most difficult.”
Even though they are both tired and he has hours of work to do before he can turn in, he keeps her on the phone for 45 minutes. They talk a bit about their respective projects, but mostly just exchange platitudes and simpering affections. While her right hand holds her phone, her left hand plays with the pool of slippery silk that rests on the bed next to her. When they hang up, she brings the tie up to her face; it smells vaguely like his aftershave and she finds that endlessly consoling in her loneliness. She falls asleep with the material against her cheek.
Lizzie awakens the next morning with a fresh resolve. She imagines the timeline before her and for the first time is not afraid of the journey’s end. Not long ago, the finish line was a blank, uncertain, terrifying canvas; now, it means a job that she is excited about, a move to San Francisco, and the chance to build a proper, adult, equitable relationship with William Darcy.
She throws herself into the final stages of her degree, and secures investors for her business. William was good on his word, and recommended her to a few associates. With all the interest and capital that her company is drawing in, she is pleased to discover that she will be able to afford a small facility – in a lovely location, not far from Pemberley’s headquarters – at which to base her work. She can even afford a few employees, and her own salary will be enough to start a mortgage on a condo, rather than renting a tiny apartment.
Lizzie is proud and excited about the decisions she is making and, most of the time, she feels confident and secure in her choices. There are times, though, when she is grateful for the foresight she had when she gave William permission to call at all hours. He has an uncanny knack for knowing when she is lying awake at 3 a.m., daunted by the changes and new responsibilities. He talks her down from her panic attacks, and distracts her with sleepy conversation about their pasts, their families, their childhoods. On more than one occasion, they are entwined in conversation when Lizzie hears the sharp trill of his alarm clock, signifying that he needs to get ready for his work day.
What Lizzie never lets him see during their Domino sessions is the spotted tie that has become her constant companion. She likes to wrap it tightly around her hand when she talks with him; she has twisted it so often that some of its well-sewn seams are beginning to loosen. She keeps it on her desk, between her laptop and a cup of tea, as she writes and edits her findings and plans, and catches herself grasping it during moments of self-doubt. Its sleek surface calms her, much as William’s voice does in the middle of the night.
One day, as Lizzie is starting her last round of edits, Lydia, channeling her missing eldest sister, carries in a tray. “I thought you could use some scones. And maybe a refill on your tea?” As she sets the plate down on Lizzie’s desk, Lydia notices the small pile of wrinkled dark fabric. She pinches it by the end, and pulls it to its full length. “Umm, Lizzie? Care to explain?”
Lizzie glances up from her screen, and sees Lydia dangling her long, skinny security blanket. Lizzie snatches it from Lydia. “That’s, uh, that’s –“
“I know what it is. But why is it here on your desk when your boyfriend is in San Francisco? Oh, god, is this some kinky skype thing?” Lydia looks more intrigued than disgusted.
“Lydia! No. Not that it would be a bad thing…” Lizzie’s overtaxed mind wanders. No, not bad at all. “It’s just, I, well, I like it.”
“Lizzie? You’re petting it like it’s a kitten. Thank goodness you’re almost graduated. You’re starting to lose it a little.” Lizzie practically sees the lightbulb over Lydia’s head, right before her little sister suggests, “How about I call your mancake and tell him to fly in for a night? I’m sure he could give you something other than a tie to stroke. Might calm your nerves…”
Lizzie is tempted; she misses William desperately and can’t wait to see him again – and pick up where they left off. But ultimately, she dismisses Lydia’s proposal with a laugh, and shoos her sister out of her room. Best to keep her nose to the grindstone, avoid distraction, she thinks as she lies down in bed and rubs his tie against her cheek.
Three weeks later, Lizzie waves goodbye to her Aunt and Uncle Gardiner as they drive off. She stretches her back as she walks back into the house. Finally, it was over. Her mother had insisted on throwing a combination Happy Graduation/Farewell party, and now Lizzie would be heading to San Francisco the day after next.
Bing has gone back to Netherfield – which was on the market, but not yet sold – with GiGi, Fitz, and Brandon. Lizzie walks through the house to find her father already snoring in his Laz-E-Boy, and turns the corner to find Jane, Lydia and Charlotte huddled over the kitchen table picking over a massive piece of red velvet cake. Their mother flits about the kitchen, putting dishes away. Lizzie walks up and hugs her from behind. “Thanks, mom. The party was lovely.”
Mrs. Bennet twists, and returns her daughter’s embrace. “You’re welcome, dear. I’m so glad to see you moving on to the next stages of your life.” Lizzie knows that her mother refers to her new beau, rather than her exciting new career. As if on cue, Mrs. Bennet pipes up, “And where is that young man of yours? He didn’t leave so soon, did he? You didn’t have a row, now, did you?”
“No, mom, I sent him up to my room twenty minutes ago.” Lizzie’s mother looks almost maniacal with glee. “He’s going back to Netherfield for the night, but we haven’t had much chance to talk all day, so I sent him up there to wait for me.” She hesitates. “But we’ll be seeing tons of each other starting next week, so I won’t be long. I want to visit with all of you on my last couple nights here.”
She had reserved a small trailer, and she and William would be driving her car and the trailer to San Francisco on Monday morning. Her condo is fully furnished, but she expects to spend Sunday evening – after Jane and Bing fly out – packing up her books, clothes, and other personal essentials.
“Lizzie… you haven’t seen him in six weeks. Get upstairs,” Jane admonishes. Lydia and Charlotte nod in unison, and her mother grabs her by the shoulders and pushes her in the direction of the stairs.
“Go on now! Don’t you worry about us!” her mother teases with a wink.
Truthfully, Lizzie is thrilled to be released from her familial duties, at least for this one night. William had an early morning international conference call, and got on a plane immediately afterwards. Aside from twenty minutes of frenzied groping in her car at the airport, she had not been alone with him all day. Even hanging out with just him in her bedroom, with her family downstairs, was preferable to any other social interaction.
She opens her bedroom door and finds him sprawled across her double bed. Her heart quakes at the smile he greets her with. “Hey, you.”
“Hey, yourself,” he replies. “I have a question for you.”
This is not exactly how Lizzie envisioned their reunion starting out, so she furrows her brow as she asks, “Ohh..kay?”
“What is this about?” he poses as he holds up a long, wrinkled, raggedy piece of fabric.
She feels herself turning about fourteen shades of pink, and can’t quite fish out the proper response… if there is even a proper response. She brings herself to meet his eyes, and starts, “I don’t know… Hey. You’re laughing at me!”
“Lizzie, I saw you pilfer it that day while I was packing. I think it is kind of, well, sweet.”
“So you don’t think that your girlfriend is a crazy weirdo stalker type, or a fetishist or something?”
“No.” William sits up and extends his hand to her. As she approaches, he leans back again and pulls her against him. “No, I think my girlfriend is sappy and sentimental, even though she tries not to be.”
She kisses him, soft and slow, and pulls back to look at him. “It made me feel comforted; it reminded me of you. But, now that the stress of graduating is gone, and especially, now that you won’t be so far away, I could give it back to you…” She tangles her hand in the red tie he is currently wearing. “I prefer to be comforted by the ties that are attached to you, because that means you are within arm’s reach.”
He stares at her for a long moment. “Keep it. Please. I would be honored if you would hang on to it as a token of the start of ‘us.’” He caresses her cheek, and then urges her down for a kiss. Before she gets completely lost in him, Lizzie has a flash of her memory box, years down the road: a couple pairs of baby shoes, a wedding invitation, some pressed flower petals… and that tie - the icon of the man she loves, the relic of the first kiss, the vestige of the onset of their life together. As her mind becomes muddied with taste – warmth – sensation, the image of that future memento box – their box – fills her heart to the brim.