P&P

Chapter Twenty-Three

It was a cool seventy-five degrees in downtown Los Angeles as I rode in the backseat of a rented convertible with my aunt and uncle. My uncle had sprung for it, saying, when in Hollywood, do as the celebrities do. It was especially cringe-worthy considering he said this with pride in a booming voice at a Denny's just on the outskirts of LA. It didn't help that he was wearing bifocals and a reindeer sweater.

And I thought my mother was embarrassing.

"What's our first stop again?" I asked my aunt, who was sitting in the passenger seat looking absolutely giddy about being here.

"Dr. Haines. His mansion is just up First street, though the grounds haven't been kept well." She told me. "We really ought to have skipped these tours and go straight to Pemberley Grove."

"When are we going there, again?" I asked, not so subtly.

"We're saving the best for last." My uncle said, to which my aunt glowered at him from her seat. "You met William, didn't you? Your mother said you hated the boy."

"Hate is a strong word." I said reluctantly.

"I would have thought it not strong enough." My aunt added. "Plus from what everyone in town is saying about him, I bet he's just an awful human being." I cringed on the inside. As much as I wanted to tell them both differently, I couldn't. Not without revealing the truth.

"But you know," My uncle said, shifting the conversation in a different direction. "That George Wickham boy spent most of his high school years with him. Your dad seemed to think he'd be coming back for you, Lizzie. Is that true?"

"Ugh." Would this conversation end already?

Luckily it did, because we arrived at our first house to tour. House is really an inaccurate term, because the mansion looked to be at least three stories and had two balconies on the top floor and one on the second. If I knew you could afford a grand mansion like that off of reconstructing women's noses, I'd have gone through with that nursing program and moved on to medical school.

Too late now.

"Whoa." I said, pushing my sunglasses up to the crown of my head. "What do you have to do to get a house like that?"

"Be extremely rich." My aunt said simply. "Maybe this was a bad idea. I'm going to go home feeling absolutely sorry for myself after all of these tours." Ha.

So was I.

We stopped for lunch before heading to our last mansion tour, Pemberley Grove. It was a ways away from Los Angeles, on the outskirts of the city. My aunt and uncle seemed to think it was because he owned a lot of grounds out there. It seemed likely.

"His parents owned a chain of fast food restaurants. After they died, they were left with William." My uncle said now. "He also helps out frequently with his aunt's restaurants. I could only imagine what it must be like becoming the CEO of such a large company at such a young age."

"How old is he, anyway?" My aunt asked.

"Twenty-one." I answered.

Both my aunt and uncle whistled in an extended way.

"The lucky bastard." My uncle said. I cringed again. The fact that people think you must have the best life in the world because you're rich was starting to get on my nerves. I had a new perspective on William Darcy, and it was nothing at all like my old one. I had insight into his life through his email. It made me see him differently too, not just George.