Pride and Poor Judgment: Tales from New London, #1

By J Anne Campanile

Winter Darcy has her priorities straight: protect her best friend, reconnect with her brother, and survive senior year. Boyfriends? Crushes? Not in the plan. But life hasn't cared about her plans in the past, so really, she should have expected the Bennet brothers.

 

\John is a threat to her best friend's, Charlie's recovery. Elliot is Darcy's personal stumbling block. And then there's Darcy's brother, who hasn't spoken to her in months. Her life is scattered, but her heart is in the right place.

 

Fresh, funny, and achingly relatable, this gender-flipped Pride and Prejudice follows Darcy's socially awkward exploits in love, friendship, heartache, and learning that she's not always right.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Champagne Book Group
• Release date: Jan 18, 2021
• ISBN: 9781771552998

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Pride and Poor Judgment

J ANNE CAMPANILE

CHAMPAGNE BOOK GROUP

Pride and Poor Judgment

This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues in this book are of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.

Published by Champagne Book Group

2373 NE Evergreen Avenue, Albany OR 97321 U.S.A.

~~~

First Edition 2021

eISBN: 978-1-77155-299-8

Copyright © 2021 J Anne Campanile All rights reserved.

Cover Art by Melody Pond

Champagne Book Group supports copyright which encourages creativity and diverse voices, creates a rich culture, and promotes free speech. Thank you by complying by not scanning, uploading, and distributing this book via the internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher. Your purchase of an authorized electronic edition supports the author’s rights and hard work and allows Champagne Book Group to continue to bring readers fiction at its finest.

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To Heather, the Bingley

to my Darcy.

Chapter One

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single, pretty girl must be in want of a boyfriend. Whether or not the young lady is aware of that fact, or (more to the point) is interested at all, is irrelevant. She is considered the rightful girlfriend of any of the single guys in her grade until she chooses a partner.

Or, you know, comes out as gay.

I was not gay, interested in a boyfriend, or particularly pretty. I must have had something going for me, though, because none of that stopped certain people I could name in this story (looking at you, Wren). But I’m getting ahead of myself. Let me start at the beginning, if I can even find it.

This whole adventure started, I suppose, on the day the Bingleys and I moved to the Netherfield Estate. I choose to think of it as The Day My Life Flipped On Its Head, because that was the day I met Elliot Bennet.

I ran my fingers over the wall, examining the hallway. Hardwood floors, neutral taupe paint, canned lights. Everything about this house seemed basic, and it was better in the photos. As I came to a stop in front of Charlie’s doorway, she watched me from inside the room.

What do you think? she asked.

It’s… I weighed my words. It has potential.

Charlie considered me for a moment. I’m not made of glass, Winter. Now, what do you really think?

Charlie saved usage of my first name for serious situations only, so I could safely assume she didn’t want me to hold back. Still, all I said for a moment was, I’m not sure. That was the honest answer. "I think the foyer is a waste of space, especially since you already have to share the floor with Carlos, and I wouldn’t imagine you want to do much entertaining on your private floor to begin with. There’s only one bathroom that’s not accessed through a bedroom, making the space even less useful for company. No one wants a guest going through their bedroom because the other bathroom is occupied."

One corner of Charlie’s mouth twitched up. "Good point. But there are more than two bedrooms on this floor, so people wouldn’t necessarily be going through my room. And there are things to fill the foyer that aren’t people. The piano, for one."

I thought the piano was going on the first floor. At least, that was the case last I checked. Steinway grands were kind of difficult to move up two flights of stairs.

It was, but I made a pretty compelling case to have it up here, Charlie said.

She was the only one in this household who played piano, and she used to do a lot of her thinking through the keys. It made sense that she should have easy access to the best piano in the house. Even so, she made do with the upright on her floor in the old house. But then again, she hardly used any piano last year.

Does that mean you’re going to start playing again? I asked.

I never stopped, she said. But… Yeah, I’ll practice more. The therapist thinks it’s a good idea.

She held Julie at arm’s length, I noticed. Calling her the therapist so she didn’t have to get too personal. I couldn’t say I blamed her, and I didn’t comment. I just nodded, coming to where Charlie stood. She examined the walk-in closet, and now, so did I.

It was a good-sized space, I admitted to myself. We lost a lot of square footage moving into this place, which was going to take some getting used to. Primarily, it meant Charlie and Carlos shared a floor, and so did me and George.

Of course, that was assuming he ever came back. We were at nine months and counting since his last visit home. This was the year I learned private high schools offered summer semesters, because George took a full course load rather than see me.

I told him we moved in my last email. No response. I checked every night, but I hadn’t heard a word from him since a certain someone decided to ruin our lives.

Darcy? Charlie’s voice yanked me back into the moment.

Huh? She’d left her spot by the walk-in closet and had wandered beside the window. Sorry, what did you say?

The moving trucks just got here, she said.

Which ones?

All of them.

Got it. I needed to make sure the movers set up George’s space perfectly. Mine was important too, I guessed, but if anything was off about his bedroom or art studio, then I wasn’t going to be happy.

Mrs. Bingley was already directing the movers by the time Charlie and I reached the driveway. Mrs. Bingley issued orders for each piece of furniture that came off one truck, and she was obeyed. As we reached a different truck, the one with most of our boxes, Carlos joined us.

You know, you can wait and let the movers grab those, he said.

Can we? Yes, Charlie said. But I’ve been wearing the same clothes for almost forty-eight hours now, and I’m feeling it.

I followed her up the ramp. Same.

Charlie shifted through the boxes at the front, taking one down every now and then to move it out of the way. I moved through them with her, setting any with my name aside. Once Charlie opened the box she was looking for, she sealed it again, then hefted it up into her arms.

As I was lifting my own box of clothes, Carlos said, We’ve got an audience.

I raised an eyebrow, then strangled a noise in my throat. A middle-aged woman stood at the edge of the driveway, but my gaze landed on the guy next to her. He couldn’t have been older than eighteen. As he came closer, I got a better view of him. He must have been a good foot taller than the woman. He had an easy stride, rather than tripping over his feet like most boys our age. His hair was a sandy blond, untamed mess of waves. His piercing gray eyes met mine for a second, before I jerked my head away to break eye contact.

"Who is that?" It came out of my throat in a strangled whisper.

Neighbors? Carlos guessed. They’ve got to be related to each other. Mother and son, probably.

Already? We just got here. You’d think the neighbors could have waited at least a day to let us settle in.

We’re moving into the biggest house in the neighborhood, and the only named estate here, Carlos pointed out. Of course that’s going to turn heads.

I cleared my throat and dared another look at the two. He was right—they must have been related. Their hair and eye colors were the same, and their sharp facial features matched each other. They walked toward Mrs. Bingley now, while Charlie, Carlos, and I watched from the truck.

I wasn’t sure I should interrupt, the woman explained as she got closer. I’m sure you’ve got your hands full. But my husband wouldn’t let me rest until I met our newest family in the neighborhood. I’m Helen Bennet, this is my son Elliot.

I’m here to make sure she didn’t ditch the cookies in a back alley and head home again, he said. As he smiled, my gaze followed his jaw and cheekbones. I was suddenly glad he wasn’t watching me anymore because I felt my face heat up.

Yes, but I knew he’d keep my secret if I did. Mrs. Bennet cracked a smile and held out a foil-covered plate I hadn’t noticed was in her hands before. Moving day is always the hardest, but these should help.

Thank you, Mrs. Bingley said as she accepted the plate. I’m Isabella Bingley. These are my children. She nodded in our direction.

Elliot’s eyes found mine again as my breathing stopped. If either of them noticed the dissimilarity between me and the Bingleys, they didn’t say anything. It was obvious, though. Our eyes were the same brown, but the resemblance stopped there.

I was pale, Carlos and Charlie were deeply tanned. My hair was a darker shade of brown than theirs. I was tall, almost as tall as Carlos, and Charlie was short. Charlie and Carlos shared the same round, soft face and gently sloped nose, similarities only twins could have.

It wasn’t entirely accurate to say I was the Bingleys’ adopted daughter, but it was the simple way of putting things. I’d lived with them for almost seven years now, and Charlie and I had been best friends my whole life.

The neighborhood is having a party tonight, Mrs. Bennet told Mrs. Bingley. Our fall bonfire on the beach. We do it every year, mostly for the kids. I don’t go anymore, but my boys will be there if you’d like someone to show your family around.

Mrs. Bingley nodded. That’s very kind of you.

The two made more small talk, while Elliot’s gaze wandered. As it landed on me again, I picked up my box and made a beeline for the front door. Charlie and Carlos followed, not far behind me.

Should we go? Charlie blurted as Carlos closed the door.

I blinked, turning to her. Charlie and parties had been mortal enemies last year. Uh…

We’re in a new state, Darcy, Charlie said. Plus, you heard her. It’s mostly for people our age. We could meet some of them. You know, make friends. I think it would be a good place to start before Monday.

Monday. Right. I didn’t want to think about school, how we’d be transferring into Longbourn High in the middle of the semester, and how I hadn’t been to a public school since seventh grade. Stanford Online was a much better fit for me, but Charlie would go crazy doing online. I needed to go wherever she went. We didn’t move halfway up the east coast just to have a repeat of last year. Plus, thanks to Wickham, I didn’t have this year’s trust deposit to pay Stanford’s tuition anymore.

Do you want to go? I asked.

If you don’t want to go, we don’t have to, she mumbled.

We. As in, she wasn’t doing this without me. Parties and I had never gotten along, but Charlie wanted to do this. I’ll go, I said.

Me too, Carlos jumped in. Sounds like fun, right?

Fun was the last thing I expected to have, but maybe that was just the cynic in me. I’d better get that back under control before tonight.

Chapter Two

I planned to change into something more comfortable, but that didn’t happen for two reasons. One: Mrs. Bingley and Mrs. Bennet got to talking after we left, from the looks of things out the window, leaving the movers undirected. They knew generally where things went, but I had to give exact orders for George’s rooms on our floor. Everything had to be in its perfect place. And two: Mrs. Bennet sprung that party on us. Comfort wasn’t a consideration when I had to get ready for human interaction.

The party wasn’t until dark tonight, and by the time we were getting ready, my imagination had run wild with all the possibilities of what could go wrong. We were four states away from our old life, but what if we saw someone we’d met? One blast from the past could be enough to set Charlie off again.

By the time we finished a takeout dinner Mrs. Bingley sent up the dumbwaiter, I was convinced that we shouldn’t go. I couldn’t tell Charlie that, though, which meant I needed to screen my best friend’s company carefully.

We’d brought both Charlie’s and my box up to her bedroom, so we could get ready together. As I rummaged through the box, I wrinkled my nose. None of my black stuff made it in here.

That’s not a bad thing, Darcy. Charlie dared to smile. You look good in colors.

You and I have very different definitions of good and bad, I said.

She was a perfect ten—it didn’t matter what she wore, she was beautiful. I loved her, and I loved her optimism, but I wasn’t nearly as fortunate. In the right lighting and lack of colors, I was a solid four.

I fished around the box and scraped together an outfit I liked well enough. I dressed in a beige blouse first, then layered that with a dark green cardigan, and grabbed my darkest pair of blue jeans in that box. The only black I had on me was the pair of ankle boots I’d worn this morning. I unburied my makeup bag from the bottom of the box then took it into the bathroom for a minute to do some basic work. Mascara, neutral gray eyeshadow, and winged eyeliner.

Charlie joined me after a moment, a dark shade of glittery brown eyeshadow in her hand. I smiled just barely at her reflection. Her gray cowl neck sweater hugged her form, resting over a pair of classic blue jeans. After she applied the eyeshadow, blending it almost perfectly with her skin tone, she took just the top of her curly hair, the part with her blonde highlights, and pinned it back, letting the rest spill over her shoulders.

Wow, I said.

What? she asked me.

My best friend is hot.

Charlie laughed. Whatever.

One of these days, I was going to get her to believe me again.

Carlos waited for us in the foyer as we finished getting ready, and when we made it out of Charlie’s room, he typed on his phone. A minute later, he told us, The driver is downstairs.

I thought about taking my car instead and almost smiled, but then a cold lump settled in my stomach. I’d sold my fun-to-drive, irresponsible-for-a-teenager-to-own Ferrari and bought a cheaper Nissan to get me through. I sold it for a good reason, but now driving wasn’t much fun. I didn’t comment on being chauffeured, rather than being behind the wheel.

Carlos had gotten the place from Mrs. Bingley and told our new driver (Geoffrey, I learned his name was) where we were going. On the way there, I picked at my nails. Mrs. Bennet had mentioned her boys going to the party. Did that include Elliot? Why did it matter? My stomach was tying itself into knots for no good reason, but I couldn’t convince it to stop. Elliot was just a guy. A strikingly beautiful guy, with the most piercing eyes I’d ever seen.

No big deal.

That’s got to be it. Look at all those people. Charlie pointed out the window, to the lights and the crowd.

Look at the size of that fire, Carlos said.

The fire was huge. It must have taken up the size of this car and then some. As we got closer, I could hear the music grow louder. Pop, dance music. Geoffrey dropped us off right next to the coast, then left to go find parking. Charlie took the lead toward the party, Carlos and I close at her heels.

As we stepped into the light, I could feel eyes on us. Dozens of people were watching. If I was feeling generous, I might have said that the attention was for all three of us, but I wasn’t stupid. Most of the guys our age were focused on Charlie, and I couldn’t say I blamed them.

I considered the scene, trying to get a general feel for the crowd here. There were a few adults running the food and drink tables, keeping the fire going, but for the most part, these were high school students. People our age. Why did I think this was a good idea, again?

Oh yeah, I didn’t.

Charlie led us to the fire, which roared happily at the center of the party. The warmth felt good. It was only the beginning of October, but it was already a lot colder than I liked. I didn’t mind the excuse to stay in one place, either. It gave me a good vantage point to see anyone who tried to get close to Charlie.

A pair of voices trailed up to the fire, coming from Elliot Bennet and another blond guy slightly taller than him. Both boys had hair plastered around their faces. Their clothes were dripping wet, and beads of water rolled off their skin.

Elliot shivered, holding his hands out to the flames. I’m going to kill Lyall one day, I swear.

Be nice, the taller guy admonished. Weren’t you the one who wanted to go swimming in the first place?

Swimming and trying to drown your brothers aren’t the same thing, Elliot pointed out. Lyall doesn’t know when too far is too far. He’s going to get himself into a problem he can’t get out of, and then what?

I don’t think you give him enough credit, the taller guy said. He’s smarter than you think.

The taller guy’s voice sounded like Elliot’s, and their hair colors were identical, so I had to guess they were brothers. Their faces were way different, though. Elliot had sharp angles, pointed cheekbones and brow. The other boy had softer features, a long nose, and dimples. Where Elliot was striking, his brother was more classically handsome, almost like a movie star.

I glanced at Charlie, only to find her staring at Elliot’s brother. I raised an eyebrow, then turned back to the boys, but they’d fallen silent. The brother now stared at Charlie, mouth half-open. Yeah, Charlie tended to have that effect on people.

We’re being completely rude, Elliot realized aloud, his attention moving from his brother to me and Charlie. I’m Elliot. This is my brother, John. John, this is— He paused. I didn’t catch your names earlier.

I waited for Charlie to speak first, but it took her a moment. She was still fixated on John. After an awkward silence, she snapped out of it. I’m Charlie. This is my brother Carlos, and my friend Darcy.

John blinked. Hi. Um… Charlie. It was a second before he could string his words together. Do you want to dance?

I bit my tongue to hold back what I wanted to say—back off, pretty boy. I could be nice right now. Nothing about John screamed danger yet, so I could wait. Charlie nodded, flashed a nervous smile, then took the hand that John offered. A moment later, they disappeared into the crowd.

I raised an eyebrow. That was… not what I expected.

Carlos’s face had contorted in scrutiny. After a moment, he shifted his gaze to Elliot. Where did you say you go to school?

I didn’t, Elliot said. Longbourn.

Your brother goes there too? Carlos said.

Brothers, he said. John and my little brother— Something caught his eye behind us, and he yelled, "Lyall!"

Um… Okay. Carlos raised an eyebrow.

Sorry, I gotta— Elliot cut past us. Lyall, get back here!

At that, Elliot left and ran after another blond who broke away from a pack of girls. He must have been the other brother. Lyall held a bottle in his hand, and he could move. He outran Elliot, barely, but Elliot was going dizzyingly fast too.

I forced myself to stop watching the boys and focused on Carlos. His lips curved into a frown.

What are you thinking? I asked.

I’m thinking I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop, Carlos said. This thing with Charlie and that guy, John, it all seems too…

Magical? I suggested. Like love at first sight?

Yeah, he said. I don’t trust John, or his brothers, for that matter. They don’t seem good enough.

Anything is better than last year. The thought crossed my mind, but I didn’t say it out loud. I didn’t have to. We were both thinking the same thing—what if this devolved into the same mess? We had moved four states away, but crappy people were everywhere. I pressed my lips into a fine line for a moment before speaking.

We’ll watch her back, I said. If something isn’t right, we’ll get her out before… that.

You didn’t see it. It was a disaster, Darcy. When it went down at school—

I found her, I snapped. You don’t have to tell me how bad it was.

Carlos stared at me for a moment, mouth half-open. Then he came out of the trance, shaking his head. I didn’t mean—of course you… I just… I can’t go through that again. Don’t you think it’s too soon for any of this?

I think it’s always going to be too soon, I said. All we can do is make sure it’s not with the wrong person.

If John is the wrong person? he asked.

Then he’s gone. We’re gone. That had to be good enough.

Carlos nodded. This stays between us.

That went without saying. We didn’t need to give Charlie any reason to not be happy. She knew to be careful already and exactly what happened when she trusted the wrong person. That person spread vicious rumors that suffocated her until everything was too much. The worst part? I didn’t see it. Charlie was so good at hiding how she felt that I didn’t realize until it was almost too late.

I exhaled, trying to re-center. I’m going to go get a drink.

I turned my back on him and left, seeking out the drink table. After a moment, I grabbed a bottle of Sprite in a bucket of ice and other sodas. Cracking it open, I scanned the crowd and the dancing people. I’d lost track of Charlie, already, and that wasn’t good. I swore to myself I’d be better about looking after my best friend, but here I was, arguing the theoretical situations with Carlos while Charlie slipped out of sight.

I spotted her after a moment, though, flailing her arms around and laughing with John. I smiled for just a second. It was good to see Happy Charlie again—genuinely happy and a bit crazy.

Still, though… This wasn’t the time to be careless. Carlos was right. It was too soon, but it was always going to be too soon. I needed to keep an eye on John and his brothers. The family was the first red flag Carlos and I both missed.

The music slowed, changing into something more reasonable for dancing. John and Charlie were still out there, swaying and talking under the strings of lanterns.

Do you dance, Darcy?

I jumped out of my skin, dropping the Sprite bottle onto the sand and spinning around to the source of the voice. Elliot. He winced, kneeling and picking up my half-empty bottle. He jumped to his feet again, then handed the bottle back. His fingers brushed my palm, sending a tingle up my hand.

Sorry, he said. Didn’t mean to startle you.

Part of me wanted to tell him it was fine, I didn’t mind, but the rest of me was trying to yank my tongue down my throat. I settled for nodding, just once.

Do, um. Do you dance? he asked again.

I scrambled to say something, since I wasn’t getting out of this without a bit of small talk. The first thing that flew out of my mouth was, Not if I can help it.

That was a dumb thing to say, but Elliot just paused for a moment before asking, Do you like parties?

Not the ones where startlingly good-looking guys took away my words like this. Not really.

Uh… Right.

He nodded, and the awkward silence plagued us again. Come on, Darcy, say something, say anything! But a moment later, he nodded again then left.

Crap.

I hated parties.

I left the drink table after another minute, breaking my concentration on my best friend for a moment and wandering the fringe of the party. Elliot was talking a darker-skinned guy our age. They must have known each other, I reasoned after a moment, because the guy shoved his shoulder playfully.

I’ve never seen so many beautiful people in one place in my life, a giggly Charlie told my back.

I jumped, turning to see my best friend red in the face. I think that’s an overstatement, I said dryly. You were dancing with the only pretty one here. Okay, that wasn’t entirely fair. But I didn’t correct myself.

He’s really nice, Darcy, she said. "He’s smart, and funny, and really cute. But, you know,