“What did you do?” Richard snarled, his face transformed by hate, as he held Wickham by the shirt.
“Darcy, Richard!” Charlotte’s voice cried out, twisted by fear. “Lizzy’s been arrested!”
Chapter 19
Richard’s eyes narrowed, “What did you do to her? What the hell did you do?” he shouted into the man’s face, oblivious to the crowd gathering around him.
Darcy moved forward, trying to get to Elizabeth beyond the security gate, when Rebecca stopped him. “Will, you can’t go in there. It’s no good. They won’t let you by.”
Darcy stared, as if he couldn’t understand her. “No. No, she needs me.”
Rebecca stopped him from going any farther, using his shock as an advantage in turning him around. Two policemen were hurrying to Richard and Wickham. Richard heard their shouts and released Wickham, holding his hands up in the air. “Search him! He’s carrying something.”
One of the officers put his hands on Richard while the other helped Wickham to his feet. “Are you okay, sir?”
Wickham smiled evilly. “I’m fine.”
“Search him!” Richard insisted. “You just arrested a woman, Lizzy Bennet. Whatever you found on her, he planted it. Search him!”
The officers exchanged looks as two more ran up to the group. “Sir,” one of them said, “we can’t just search someone. That’s a violation of their rights.”
While he was talking, Rebecca made eye contact with one of the officers and nodded. The officer pulled his walkie-talkie out and spoke softly into it. A minute later, as Richard argued, a police dog was escorted to the scene.
“Watch,” Rebecca told Darcy discreetly in a low voice. As they watched, the beagle pointed to the bag and made a whining noise in her throat. “That’s an alert.”
“Sir?” the officer who was holding Wickham said, “could you come with us?”
Wickham looked at the small dog, as if seeing it for the first time. “Of course,” he said smoothly.
Rebecca set her jaw. “He’s clean.”
“How do you know?”
“He would have never agreed to the search otherwise. Whatever he had, he planted it on Lizzy. It’s a setup.”
Darcy’s hands began to shake. “How bad is this?”
Rebecca shook her head. “I don’t know. It could be real bad.”
It was then that Jane and Alex caught up with the group. Jane flew into Charles’s arms and he held her tightly for a moment, his face expressing relief.
“What happened to Lizzy?” Darcy demanded of Alex.
Alex glared. “I don’t know,” he replied sullenly. “We were walking through the gate when a cop asked her to come with him. A few minutes later we were informed she’d been arrested.”
Darcy closed his eyes, as his face became a hard mask. “For what?” he growled between clenched teeth.
“I don’t know,” Alex answered softly.
Darcy opened his eyes to reveal the desolation he felt at that moment. Charles stepped forward and put his hand on his shoulder, subtly indicating the photographer who had appeared in the crowd watching them. “Hang on,” he said softly. “This isn’t the place.”
Darcy looked at his friend. “I can’t leave her.”
“She’s probably already gone,” Charles replied calmly. “You can’t help her by making a scene here. Let’s go to the loft now, all of us. We can do something there.”
The walkie-talkie at the belt of the officer holding Richard squawked, and a moment later Richard was free to go. Charles and Rebecca directed the group to the doors, informing everyone they were to meet at the loft. Charles pulled out his cell phone as he kept one arm around a shaken Jane and pressed a button.
“Caro? Caro, damn it! Pick up, now! It’s an—It’s me. I’m at the airport. Lizzy’s been arrested… We’re not sure… He—” Charles stopped and looked at Darcy, who was moving as if he was sleepwalking. “He needs our help. Get Rachel and meet us at the loft… okay, bye.”
Charlotte sat quietly in the passenger seat of Richard’s car. She was in a state of shock, barely noticing the way Richard had carefully fastened her seat belt. She felt rather than saw him get in on the driver’s side.
“Char?”
Slowly she turned her head to him. She opened her mouth once, but no words came out.
Richard took her hand and squeezed it. “It’s going to be okay, Char,” he told her gently. “It’s okay.”
The gentle kindness in his voice was almost her undoing. She felt herself losing it and forced all her upset down, into her stomach. Calming her expression, she stared at her hands until she was sure they wouldn’t shake and nodded her head slowly.
Richard watched her, able to read her emotions perfectly. What he wasn’t certain of was if she didn’t trust herself to break down, or if she didn’t trust him. He remembered their last time alone, when she held herself back from him, and it cut him deeply.
Richard looked down, surprised to see the small white box in his free hand. Jane gave it back to him when the cop released him. He smirked at the way all his great plans for this night had been destroyed in an instant.
Slowly he turned to Charlotte, who was still in a daze and held out the box to her. “This isn’t how I planned your homecoming,” the irony was thick in his voice, “but I got this especially for you.”
Charlotte’s eyes met his with a look of disbelief and confusion.
“Open it,” Richard said gently.
Slowly Charlotte opened the box and saw the single perfect blossom resting there. It was shiny and delicate, dark black with purple undertones that matched Charlotte’s hair perfectly.
“The black orchid is one of the rarest and most treasured flowers known. It’s exotic and precious.” Richard squeezed the hand he was holding and with his other hand lightly touched Charlotte’s cheek. “That’s how I feel about you, Charlotte.”
Charlotte looked from the flower to Richard, and he watched as her carefully constructed wall disintegrated, revealing the fragile woman underneath. “Richard,” she gasped.
He pulled her close, pressing her face into his shoulder and holding her as sobs began to rack her slender frame. He rubbed his face against her hair, murmuring softly, “Charlotte, my beautiful, beautiful Charlotte, it’s okay. It’s okay.”
She clung to him, suddenly weak, overwhelmed by the conflicting emotions ripping through her. She didn’t know if she should feel happy or sad or afraid, and her heart was heavy and sore.
When her tears subsided and she was still, Richard gently pressed her back so he could look in her eyes. When he spoke it was in a low earnest tone. “Char? We’re going to go to the loft now. Lizzy and Darcy need us, but I promise you we will talk. We need to talk.” He grinned to himself. “I need to talk to you, Char.”
Charlotte nodded, her short hair swinging back and forth. “I’m not normally like this,” she told him, her voice trying to sound normal.
“I know,” Richard smiled, giving her hand a final squeeze before turning to start his car. The vintage Mustang came to life with a roar and Richard took off toward the Village.
He knew she was feeling better when fifteen minutes into the trip she looked around the car, as if seeing it for the first time, and asked, “What year is this?”
“Sixty-seven,” he answered lightly.
“Damn,” she replied, drawing the word out.
Richard’s warm laugh bubbled up and filled the small car.
Elizabeth sat in a daze, completely at a loss. Never before had she dealt with the police beyond a speeding ticket, and now she was sitting in the station house, hands cuffed together.
Now it all seemed clear. Wickham must have put something in her bag. Elizabeth assumed it was cocaine, but the fact of the matter was she didn’t have a clue what was in that tiny packet they showed her. She had certainly never seen it before, and she could only guess how it had gotten in there.