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She paused. Darcy waited, silently. Then she continued, “I heard you aren’t coming out with us tonight, and I hope that isn’t because of me.” She realized how egotistical it sounded and wondered again about making a fool of herself. “I would like for you to come. Charles said something about an eighties karaoke party, and anyway, I’d like to try to get to know you better.” Realizing she was babbling, she finished as gracefully as she could.

Darcy stared at her long enough to make her nervous. She was convincing herself that she was not only a fool but about to get thrown off the tour when he finally spoke. “Thank you for coming here,” he started. His eyes broke away, as he looked down for a beat, before traveling back to hers. “I had wondered if I had offended you,” he spoke slowly, and Elizabeth realized with a flash of insight that he was embarrassed. “I didn’t mean to, and I’m sorry if I did.” He watched her again, waiting for her reaction.

Elizabeth had nothing to say to that, so she smiled uncomfortably and waited. “I’m not coming out tonight because, truthfully, I hate clubs. Too many people and too much noise.” He shrugged and flashed a quick smile. “I’m something of a homebody, I’m afraid.”

Elizabeth was speechless. This was the last thing she had expected from the imposing Fitzwilliam Darcy. She questioned how much she did know about this man she had been working with for two weeks. She realized he was staring at her, expecting a response, and quickly said the first thing that came to her mind. “Oh, well, I’m glad it’s not me,” she smiled nervously. “But I do hope we can be friends, Darcy.” She said his name uneasily.

“My friends call me Will,” he said, his deep voice warmer than she had ever heard it.

Elizabeth smiled genuinely and held out her hand. “And mine call me Lizzy.”

As Darcy shook her hand, she noticed his palm was warm, his touch firm, and she could feel the roughness of his calluses scraping against her own. A flash of something like desire bolted through her as she had a sudden vision of that rough skin against her most tender parts. Looking quickly away, she rose and moved toward the door. Darcy followed her silently.

“So I’ll see you tomorrow then, Will?” she asked pleasantly as she opened the door. Darcy nodded and took the door as she passed through it. “Bye,” she waved.

Darcy watched as she blithely returned to her suite and then slowly shut the door.

*  *  *

Four nights later found them in Pensacola, Florida, for a one-night show. This was one of the smallest houses they had yet played, a large civic center rather than a stadium or arena. Jane commented on how she was looking forward to performing in a more intimate setting. Elizabeth really couldn’t see how eight thousand was more intimate than twenty, but she wasn’t going to argue.

Before they went out, Alex informed the girls that their video would debut on MTV on Tuesday. Excited by the news, they took the stage, ready to play their hearts out. The set progressed flawlessly until they reached Jane’s second song, “Good-bye.” Elizabeth was focused on her playing when suddenly she knew something was wrong. Jane abruptly stopped singing and fell to the floor. Elizabeth froze in shock until she saw the blood pouring out of Jane’s forehead and pooling on the stage.

Then her guitar was on the ground and she was pulling Jane onto her lap, saying her name over and over again. Jane was unconscious, her face very white against the bright red blood running into her hair. Elizabeth looked up, feeling very small and alone, wondering what to do, when suddenly Charles appeared.

*  *  *

Darcy was standing where he always stood during her performance, watching her at the bank of monitors. He didn’t know why. At first, it had been just to make sure she was good enough, then to make sure she was okay. But she had long since proven herself. Darcy knew her act by heart, still, every night he was there, watching her and listening to her songs. It was like he was bewitched.

Charles stood beside him, as always. At least Charles had no doubts, Darcy reflected in annoyance. Charles was absolutely clear why he was there. He wore his Jane smile, and Darcy wondered who was trying to fool whom. It was clear that Charles was completely hooked on Jane. It had only been dumb luck and separate tour buses that kept them apart. He didn’t object to his friend’s romance with Jane in principle. Jane seemed like a nice person. The circumstances were the problem. With only two weeks into the tour and another seven months to go, all their lives could become a total hell if their relationship went south. It wasn’t that Darcy was against his friend’s happiness, he told himself for the hundredth time; it was just that this was a national tour. It was more important than an infatuation.

His thoughts were broken by a shout. Darcy turned and watched Charles run from him, his face stricken. He turned back to the monitors and his breath caught at what he saw. Elizabeth was kneeling on the ground, Jane unconscious before her. “Rebecca!” he yelled, turning toward the stage.

She was there, firing orders into her headset, blocking Darcy’s path to the stage with her body. “Wait, Darcy! I think it was a bottle, but I don’t know yet. Don’t go out there!”

A moment later, Charles came back, carrying Jane, her arms swaying like a rag doll; Elizabeth, clothes bloodied, and Charlotte followed, both looking very frightened.

“Did you see what happened?” Rebecca barked.

Elizabeth shook her head. “No, I was playing and she just went down and there was blood.” She craned her head to see what was happening to Jane. Alex led a team of EMTs out of nowhere and they took Jane from Charles.

The roar of the crowd and Caroline’s voice coming over the loudspeakers suddenly brought Darcy back to himself. “Rebecca, I need to know what it was, now!”

Rebecca nodded, her attention divided between Darcy and her headset. “It was a bottle. We found it, and my people have the assailant.”

Darcy nodded, satisfied. “The police?”

“They’re coming.”

Darcy pushed between Charles and Elizabeth to look at Jane. “Is she going to be okay?” he asked the technicians working over her. Jane had regained consciousness and was crying softly. Darcy could now see the deep gash on her forehead that traveled up to her hairline.

“Yes, it looks like a concussion. We’ll transport her, but I think she’ll be all right.”

Darcy sighed. “Good.” He turned to his friend. “Charles, go get cleaned up. Caroline!”

“Right here, Darcy.”

“Get the stage cleaned up and our set out there ASAP!”

Caroline nodded and started speaking into her microphone. Charles stared at him stunned. “We’re going on?” he asked, astounded.

“We’re going on,” Darcy said firmly. “Go get ready.” Charles remained where he was, frozen. “Do it!” Darcy snapped. “She’ll be okay!”

Charles moved woodenly toward his dressing room while Richard came running up to the huddle of people Darcy was circling around like a shark. “What’s going on?”

“We are, as soon as possible. Get yourself ready.”

Elizabeth watched Darcy from the floor, where she knelt beside Jane, her eyes large and uncomprehending. Finally he turned back to her and gently pulled her to her feet. “Go with her, Elizabeth, make sure she sees a plastic surgeon.” Darcy looked at Jane’s prone form, then back to Elizabeth. “I’ll take care of all the costs, but I don’t want her to have a scar. Do you understand?”

Elizabeth searched Darcy’s eyes, trying to understand what he was saying. She nodded dully.

“We’ll come to the hospital when the show is over, but right now we have to make sure the crowd doesn’t tear the house apart.” He stopped and tilted his head. “Elizabeth, do you understand?”