The Other Side of the Story

By S. Faith, © 2009

Words: 23,105 (Part 3: 7,556)
Summary, Disclaimer, etc.: See Part 1.

The day of the christening brought gorgeous, sunny weather. In an effort to be economical not only about parking availability but petrol, Mark had offered her a lift to the actual ceremony, then the party afterward at Jeremy's. She had chosen a pale cream dress and a white wide-brimmed hat, which she thought appropriate for the occasion, though it had been quite some time since she had attended a christening. After slipping into her favourite spring coat, a tartan in pale pink, they headed for the church; upon arrival, her eyes immediately scanned the place for Bridget, who was clearly not yet there. They took a seat in the front pew as others filed in.

The time approached for the ceremony to begin; not only was there no Bridget, but Mark commented that Magda was not there, either, pointing out that Jeremy sat on the other side of the aisle with the baby in his arms. The vicar came out in his finest vestments, looking to Jeremy expectantly. Jeremy turned to the front door of the church, then back to the vicar, mouthing, "Any time now."

She heard Mark chuckle low in his throat. She looked to him. He explained: "Bridget's late, as usual."

A commotion at the front door caused all present to look in that direction. "Sorry," said a red-haired woman rushing in to the front, holding her white hat into place. Magda.

Directly behind Magda was Bridget. Rebecca thought she'd be prepared to see Bridget again, but… the pink in her cheeks matching the pink of the jacket over her cheery yellow dress, her blonde hair a little windblown before she smoothed it down as she smiled to cover up her embarrassment. At that moment, Bridget saw Rebecca; something akin to disappointment washed over her face before her eyes fixed with Mark's momentarily. He rose from his seat to join her at the front of the church.

The ceremony was uneventful, or at least Rebecca thought it was; she spent the entire time watching Bridget and trying not to look like she was. Rebecca wondered if in her haste Bridget had accidentally chosen a dress that showed so much cleavage, or if she'd known Mark would be there…

At the conclusion, Mark clearly tried to make his way to her, maybe to pull her aside to talk to her, but she shot off with her friend before he reached her. Mark sighed, looking to his feet. "Well, I suppose there's still the party," he said. "We should head to Jeremy's."

She patted his arm reassuringly. "Yeah."

He turned towards the church door. She walked with him. As they did, she spotted an older couple at the rear who were clearly scrutinising not just Mark, but her. The woman especially had a rather nasty expression. "Mark," she asked quietly, "who are they?"

He didn't answer, only smiled politely as they passed them by, then descended the stairs and went to Mark's car.

After they closed the car doors, buckled in, and engaged the engine, Mark finally answered her question. "Bridget's parents."

"Oh."

They arrived at the party and did not see Bridget much. Whenever Mark made progress towards her, she ducked and dodged to avoid talking to him. As the afternoon passed, Mark became more and more tense and agitated. Rebecca did not have to ask why. "Mark," she said. "Let's walk 'round the garden. Maybe you'll feel better."

He nodded. "Yes. Maybe I'll bump into Bridget, too."

They were partway around the rather large garden when a swarm of children playing chase nearly knocked them over. Within a few minutes she found herself chasing them back; the kids were clearly surprised that an adult was doing so, and shrieked with delight as they turned around and chased her again. As she feigned taking refuge by Mark, he smiled and tried to play along, but she could see his heart was not in it.

As the children fluttered off and she attempted to regain her breath, she saw that distinct pink/yellow combination heading into the house. "Mark," she said. She needn't have pointed, though; he'd already seen what she'd seen, and he headed quickly towards the house.

She returned to the stone bench under a tree upon which she had earlier deposited her coat and bag. She slipped on the coat as the air was starting to cool and a storm seemed likely to roll in, and decided to wait for Mark there. The breeze blew at wisps of her hair, but her eyes never left the door of the house. She was on tenterhooks waiting to see some sign of how their talk had gone.

She didn't have on a watch, but she didn't think it had been very long before Mark exited through the same door. Her heart sank to her feet. He didn't look happy, and his stride was long and determined. Without conscious thought she jumped up and headed towards him. "Mark!" she said. "How did it go?"

"Do you have your things?" he asked gruffly.

"What?"

"Your coat. Your bag."

"Uh," she said; she would have thought her coat was obvious. "Yes. My hat's in the car."

"We're leaving," he said, not once stopping.

As Rebecca went to sit in the car she turned and locked eyes with Bridget, who had clearly followed Mark out of the house. Rebecca felt a smile spread on her face, even as she saw that Bridget looked visibly upset.

She knew without asking that the talk had not gone well.

Halfway through the drive back to Rebecca's place, she asked, "Want to talk about what happened?"

He did not say a word. The discomfort of the silence between them was to the point where she thought maybe he'd stepped over the line. It wasn't until he pulled up to her building that he responded. "She's back with her ex," he said.

Rebecca exhaled. "I'm sorry."

The cords in his neck went taut for a moment before they loosened, but he did not look at her. "I'll… see you on Monday."

"Yes," she said. "See you then."

She walked towards her building but turned to see Mark drive away, pealing off a little more quickly than strictly necessary. She felt badly for Mark; she felt even worse for realising she had not gotten over her own attraction to Bridget.

………

Through the rest of April and mostly into May, Rebecca managed to reclaim some of the footing she'd gained during Mark's time with Bridget; they sometimes even had lunch together, conversed easily on a variety of subjects. She was even able to elicit an occasional smile. However, she knew he spent most of his evenings either working or home alone. She did not dare ask if he was trying to find someone new. It was obvious he hadn't moved on. In all honestly, she understood. She had hardly felt able to find anyone new herself, and she had only ever longed for Bridget from afar. She could not imagine how difficult it must have been for Mark.

"It's really good of you," said Giles as he poured himself an overly large mug of coffee one morning. "Being such a good friend to Mark."

"I only wish there were more I could do," she said, thinking specifically about telling Bridget that Mark had never been untrue.

Giles smiled. "I bet. You've been scads more patient than a lot of other women would be."

"Patient?"

"Well…" He stopped, lowering his voice. "Mark's not exactly responding, is he? Must really have had his heart broken but good."

In that instant, Rebecca realised Giles was under the impression that she wanted Mark as her own. "I have no ulterior motive than to be a friend."

Giles winked. "Right."

She realised there might have been a very good reason that Giles was now a single man. "I have to get back to work," she said, biting her tongue on what she truly wanted to say to him.

………

It had been a surprisingly stormy and muggy May, and the one night where the weather finally seemed to break was the first night in almost a week where Rebecca was actually able to fall asleep and stay asleep. The telephone ringing startled Rebecca out of that welcome state. Blearily she opened her eyes, blinking and trying to adjust and focus her eyes on the brightness of the digital clock on the bedside table. Nearly midnight. Who on earth was calling?

She answered with a scratchy, sleepy voice. "Hello?"

"Rebecca. It's Mark." The panicked tone in Mark's own voice brought her to instant wakefulness.

"What's wrong?"

"I know it's late but I need you to come meet me down at the office. It's very important."

"What is it?"

"I'll explain once you get here."

Quickly she dressed, pulled her hair back into a ponytail and patted at her face with some loose powder to look somewhat presentable (because she had no idea what or whom awaited her at the other end), before jumping into her car for the short drive. The drive seemed interminable, mostly due to the uncertainty waiting for her. As she parked the car along the street, she glanced up and saw that the office was ablaze with lights and movement. It did not help the mounting anxiety she felt; she searched her memory for possibilities. Had something gone wrong with the Congolese nurse's resident status, or the Mexicans? Was it instead to do with the Peruvians, with whom they were not scheduled to meet for at least another week?

She opened the door, threw her purse and jacket down at her desk before going to Mark's office. "I got here as quickly as—oh. Hello."

Seated across from Mark's desk was, surprisingly enough, Jeremy's wife Magda, as well as three individuals she had never met before, a man and two women, all of whom looked sepulchral and a touch confused as they looked up at her. This was not at all what she was expecting. Mark had the telephone receiver up to his ear, but put his hand over the mouthpiece and said, "I need you to look into booking me on the next possible flight to Lyon."

Lyon? "Absolutely."

She returned to her desk, opened her rolodex, and started making calls. She couldn't find that anyone left for Lyon before nine in the morning, so she went back to Mark's door to let him know.

"That's fine," he said. "Earliest, and fastest flight, please. I have more calls to make. In fact, if you could locate home or mobile numbers for these individuals…."

She reached forward and took the list from him. "Yes."

"I feel like such a dupe." This came, in a throaty, emotional voice, from the blonde woman at Mark's desk. "I don't know what I'll do if you can't get her out."

"I'll do whatever I can," said Mark tersely. "We have to remain calm."

"I know you will," said the other, a brunette, just as she was walking away.

After much digging, Rebecca was able to locate at least a home number for each individual and a mobile for most of the others; as she found them, she messaged them to Mark, who replied to every one of them with a Thank you. She could hear that he was on the telephone nearly nonstop. She did not dare to interrupt further.

It was nearly three when Mark led the group out of his office.

"I've done all I can do for now," he said. "I'll leave for France in the morning. I'll keep you up to date as I can. Go home and get some sleep. Sharon, you especially must be exhausted after your flight."

"Don't know how we'll ever be able to thank you," said the man, tall, lanky, his short dark hair a mess.

"No need to thank me," he said. "I'm very glad you came to me for this."

Magda took Mark's hands in hers, looked up at him earnestly. "I have every confidence in you, Mark. She's in the best possible hands."

He only smiled stiffly. "I'll do everything in my power. I promise you."

With that, Magda nodded once, then released his hands. "Try to sleep yourself?" she said.

"Doubtful," he said. "But I'll try."

It was after they left that Mark sat down at his desk once more, his head heavily in his hands, exhaling deeply. "Mark," she said. "What's going on?"

She thought maybe he hadn't heard, so long was his silence, but then he spoke. When he looked up at her, she was shocked at the change in his expression. He was scared beyond reason. "Bridget's been jailed in Thailand on suspicion of drug smuggling."

"Oh my God," she said. She felt the blood drain from her face.

"A man Sharon met there gave her a gift which was unknowingly packed with cocaine," he explained, regaining a little of his composure. "And unfortunately Bridget put it in her own bag for transport as Sharon had run out of room."

She felt a little dizzy. She could only imagine how Mark felt.

"Magda's right," said Rebecca. "Bridget's in excellent hands."

He offered that stiff smile again. "Even if she won't have me," he said, "there is nothing I wouldn't do to get her home."

She smiled tenderly, patted his shoulder reassuringly. "I don't doubt that."

"Well. I have a little packing to do before I get to the airport. Why don't you go back to your place and get a few more hours of sleep? Take off the morning." He tried to stifle a yawn, but couldn't. "I'll likely need to do more travelling to get to the bottom of this."

She understood what he was asking: to be available to make more arrangements for him if needed. "Sure. Have a good flight, and be careful driving."

Wearily he smiled. "I'll probably get a car to take me to the airport. Don't worry."

"I meant home."

He nodded. "Talk to you soon."

………

It was left to Rebecca to advise Jeremy, Giles and the others in the office where Mark was, though when asked, she couldn't honestly say how long it would take. They were more than willing to take care of handling whatever of Mark's work they could, and Rebecca made arrangements to postpone anything they couldn't.

It wasn't until the afternoon of the day following his departure that she next heard from Mark. He needed passage to Dubai, needed for her to arrange the flight. "I'll find a place on my own to stay, if I'm even here long enough to stay overnight."

"Dubai?"

"That's where the suspect is. Jed. Impossible to extradite people from. The Home Secretary's working with our ambassador in Riyadh. We have to move fast, especially if Jed catches the faintest hint that Interpol knows where he is." He sighed. "Hopefully I will have good news soon."

"I hope so too."

She had a flight for him very quickly, and she messaged the flight information via SMS. A brief acknowledgement came back within moments.

It was another two days before she heard from him again. The suspense was veritably killing her, as were the constant requests for more information from her.

"Becky," he said, his voice crackly and distant. "Need a flight from Riyadh to Bangkok, as soon as possible."

"Absolutely. What happened?" she asked, beginning her search immediately.

"Jed's in custody," he explained. "He's being extradited out of Saudi Arabia, back to the UK."

"I thought he was in Dubai."

"He was," he said, a bit of triumph evident in his voice. "The government of Dubai agreed that the negative publicity wasn't worth it, so they picked him up and put him on a plane to Riyadh. He found the police and myself waiting for him on the other end."

She smiled. It seemed Bridget's ordeal was nearly over. "Oh, thank goodness."

Mark continued, "I'm heading to Bangkok now to ensure Bridget's release, and gather any information I can that will strengthen the Crown's case against him."

"Well done," she said, grinning broadly. "Ah. I have that flight information for you." She read off the flight number and the time it was departing.

"That gives me three hours to get to the airport," he said. "Thank you. I'll call soon with an update, I promise." He disconnected.

She did not hear from him again that day, nor the next, nor the one after that.

………

"Good afternoon."

Rebecca's head snapped up to see Mark striding in, looking weary but none the worse for wear, as he headed for his office. He placed a pastry on her desk as he passed by; she noticed his hand was a little red and abraded. "Just a little something in gratitude."

"Mark!" She jumped up from her desk, surprised at his nonchalance. "We've been dying to know what happened!"

"Bridget's free. She'll be back in the UK tomorrow. Meanwhile, I have a conference with the Peruvians to prepare for." He went into his office and closed the door.

Rebecca realised just then how utterly maddening he could be. She followed him into the office; she did not bother to knock first.

"What happened?" she asked again.

"I told you—"

"I don't mean that. I mean your hand."

"Ah." He looked to the side. "I thought she was in Thailand with her friend on holiday. It turns out that it was a work assignment and Daniel was there too. Her ex." He took in a deep breath, then released it slowly. "I knew they were back together, but it was still difficult for me to hear about Bridget visiting him at his hotel, staying with him overnight."

"I'm sorry."

"Nothing for you to be sorry about," he said. "You've been indispensible during this whole ordeal."

"The least I could do," she said. She smiled; he hadn't yet answered her question. "Your hand."

"Right. Well, when I learned of this then learned he had left her at the airport…" His expression turned sheepish. "I admit I let my anger get the better of me. So I went to find him. We had a fight. And that's when… well, it turns out they weren't back together at all. Never had been. She had not stayed overnight. Not for a lack of trying on his part, apparently."

"So that means—" Rebecca said hopefully.

"She's obviously moved on," he finished for her. "I should too."

She smiled sympathetically. "But she's not with him," reminded Rebecca, trying to raise his spirits. "Do you think you might try to talk to her again, try to win her back?"

"Nothing would make me happier," he began, then drifted off, silent for many moments before he continued. "But after the way I behaved, I would be surprised if she ever wanted to see me again for the rest of her life." He looked to Rebecca again. "When I saw her in prison, she was reaching out to me, looking for reassurance from me, telling me she thought of me every day, and I was so angry about Daniel that I—I was an arse. I deserve what I get."

She knew Mark well enough to understand what he meant to do. He had not stopped loving her, and from the sound of it, she still had feelings for him, but he was prepared to sacrifice everything because of a misapprehension.

He was being a bloody emotional martyr.

"Mark," she said. "Never say never."

A fleeting smile passed his lips. "Nice of you to say," he said. "However, I prefer to remain realistic."

……….

"The conference is due to conclude at three," said Mark the following morning. He looked better, or at least a little bit more well-rested. "Afterwards, we're coming back to my house for a debrief, the lot of we lawyers. So, if you wouldn't mind going to my house in advance to set things up, I would appreciate it."

"Of course."

"If you could be there at one, the housekeeper will still be there. I'll let her know you're coming."

"Great. Will do."

He smiled reservedly. "Hm. Well. I should get down to the meeting. Due to start at eight sharp."

"I'll see you later."

She wrapped up her work at the office, went out for a light lunch, and was at Mark's house just prior to one. She got his meeting table all set up with pads of paper, pitchers of water and glasses, and copies of the meeting agenda Mark had prepared in advance so that they could discuss the progress they'd made that day.

She was considering making coffee for them when she heard a knock at the door. She looked to the clock on the wall. It was barely two, but she supposed it was possible Giles or Jeremy left the meeting early. She went to the door, swung it open—

She couldn't believe her eyes. It was Bridget.

"Oh!" Bridget said, clearly disheartened. "I forgot about you."

Rebecca was rendered completely speechless. She didn't realise Bridget was due back so early in the day. Despite her prison stay, she looked rather healthy and as lovely as ever.

"I just wanted to, um, say something to Mark," continued Bridget.

Thinking he'd be there probably within an hour or so, she said, striving for a tone approaching normalcy, "He's at the office. Do you want to come in?"

"Oh. Oh, no," Bridget replied. "No, no, I don't think I will." She offered what was obviously a forced smile. "I really hope that you'll be happy together."

"Sorry?"

"You and Mark. I really hope that you'll be very happy together."

Oh God. Bridget still thought Rebecca and Mark were having a fling—and yet still wished them well despite her own feelings, despite her own broken heart, evidenced in that look of disappointment when that door had swung open—

Bridget had to know, despite Mark's insistence that she say nothing, that Rebecca was no impediment to happiness with Mark. She would say whatever she had to say, do whatever it took, to get it through to her.

"No, no, no, no, no, Bridget, listen. You've got it completely wrong. I'm not in love with him," Rebecca said. She knew this was it. Her heart was racing a million miles a minute as she continued. "How could I be, when I'm totally heartbrokenly smitten with someone else?"

"Someone else?" Bridget echoed.

After keeping it to herself for so long, it was unbelievably easy to admit:

"You, Bridget."

"Me?"

"Ever since I saw you here with your hair messed that night and bits of garden stuck to you," she confessed, thinking fondly back to that night of the meeting in February. "You must have noticed. I try to hide it, but every time I see you, I… I light up."

"I thought you were just, you know…" she began, her shock and disbelief evident. "…lying."

"Was every look I ever gave you a lie?" Rebecca asked; the last thing she wanted was for Bridget to think she was lying now to protect Mark. On impulse, she reached forward and pressed her lips against Bridget's; even as she did it, she couldn't believe she had dared.

Bridget was clearly taken aback, which was more than understandable for a straight girl; she gave Bridget no more than a lengthy peck before standing upright again, smiling at Bridget, willing her to really, truly understand that she had no romantic feelings at all for Mark.

"Thank you very much. That was lovely," said Bridget, still stunned; "Really lovely. But I'm afraid it's still men in general, and Mark Darcy in particular, that I love." She offered Rebecca a smile. "If… if I ever do decide to, um, you know, bat for the other side—" Her smile broadened; Rebecca did not delude herself into thinking it was for anything but realising Mark had not been unfaithful. "—well, there's no one else. Only you."

Rebecca smiled tenderly. She knew Bridget was only saying it to be kind, but she appreciated that her reaction had not been negative. "Thanks."

With another beaming smile, Bridget raced off; it was only then that she noticed Giles standing there on Mark's walk with his umbrella as the rain poured down. He looked as shocked as Bridget just had.

Oh God, thought Rebecca.

"Hello Giles," trilled Bridget as she ran by.

"Hello Bridget!" Giles returned, grinning madly. He continued up the path and ascended the stairs. "Well," said Giles as he followed Rebecca into the house. "I guess you were really only trying to be Mark's friend, eh? Trying to get close to Mark's girlfriend?"

"No," she said, feeling her face flush hotly.

"It's all right, Rebecca," he said, winking in a very exaggerated manner. "Secret's safe with me, eh?"

It was probably the most titillating thing that had happened to Giles in his life. She decided there was nothing to be done about it than move past it and change the subject. Rebecca asked, "Why don't we go into the meeting room? The others should be here just after three, right?"

"Probably sooner. Everything was ahead of schedule. Hm. Coffee?"

Giles went in and Rebecca went to make coffee as she had originally intended, but she could not stop thinking what had occurred. She'd have to tell Mark about her crush on Bridget. She probably should have told him ages ago. Hell, she'd probably have to find another job, which was especially tragic. She loved her job.

She was just bringing the coffee, some mugs and sugar and cream when there was another knock at the door. She deposited the tray in the meeting room and opened the door. It was Jeremy. He was looking positively giddy.

"Meeting went well?"

"You will never believe what happened."

Jeremy came in and headed straight for the meeting room.

"What happened?" asked Rebecca, hot on his heels.

"Giles! You will not believe what happened after you left!" Jeremy said. Giles looked up at Jeremy.

"You will never believe what happened here!" countered Giles.

"Giles!" said Rebecca.

Jeremy raised a brow.

"Fine, fine," huffed Giles. "So what happened? Did Santiago blow his top and punch out Hernandez?"

"Hardly." Jeremy laughed. "Bridget showed up!"

Rebecca felt her mouth drop open of its own accord. "At the meeting?"

"Yes! And oh, it was absolutely priceless… Santiago bid her to speak, and she did." Jeremy looked squarely at Rebecca. "What do you know about Mark seeing a lesbian?"

She felt her face turn crimson as Giles guffawed again. "This is better than a French farce!"

"If you two are quite finished giggling like schoolboys," she said authoritatively, "tell me what she said to Mark."

"She said she loved him, if you must know," said Jeremy. "Then he pulled her by the arm out of the meeting… and never came back in."

Filled with hope for them, Rebecca felt a broad smile spread over her face. With any luck, they were talking, making up, or… well, maybe something even better. "Good," she said.

"So what happened here?" said Jeremy.

"I convinced Bridget that Mark and I were not having an affair," she said, taking the wind out of Giles' sails, since he'd seemed hell bent on telling anyone who'd listen anyway.

Jeremy quickly did the mental math and furrowed his brows. "So… it was you that—?"

"Mark and I were never seeing each other." Rebecca heard her mobile ringing. "Excuse me." She went to her purse, saw that the incoming call was Mark. Her stomach fluttered as she answered it, walking back into the entryway.

"Becky, it's Mark."

It was a good sign. He didn't call her 'Becky' when he was stressed.

"Hello, Mark," she said, calm as she could manage. "Everything all right?"

"Hmm. Yes." She heard a light laugh, a woman's laugh, in the background. Butterflies began to cyclone in her stomach. It was Bridget. "I was mainly calling for two reasons. One, tell Giles, Jeremy, and anyone else who turns up to go home. Debrief's cancelled. Er, postponed, rather. We'll reconvene another day."

"Oh… okay."

"If you don't mind staying long enough to see everyone out, I'd be grateful."

"Sure," she said, then asked, "You're not coming home?"

"Um," he said; he sounded distracted. Little wonder. "No. That's the other reason I called. I wanted to thank you for kissing Bridget."

"What?" she gasped, surprised that he had not reacted badly to the story of the kiss.

He started to laugh. "It was terribly brave of you to do that in the name of bringing the two of us back together. Bridget said it best: the kiss was what really drove home that there truly was nothing going on between you and I. She said that the 'smitten' thing was a nice added touch, too."

Her thoughts whirled. Was it possible that they believed her words and actions to only be an exaggeration?

"In any case," Mark continued, "we have more than apologised and made up. So thank you for your part in it."

She smiled, feeling a little emotional. While she suspected resolution couldn't be that simple, now was not the time for detailed discussion on the matter. "I told you…. I should have said something weeks ago."

Mark laughed. "So you should have." She heard Bridget's voice softly call his name from somewhere in the background. "I ought to go. One last thing though."

"What?" she asked, thinking he was going to ask her to phone in reservations for the two of them for dinner or similar.

"You'll be pleased to hear that the ring will finally come out of my bureau drawer."

"You—did you propose? Wait, that's silly of me, of course you did," she blurted. "Congratulations!"

Mark said in a low tone, "Thank you." She heard Bridget's voice again, louder, closer to him, light and teasing:

"Becky, Mark has to go now!"

Rebecca laughed. "Goodbye, Mark. Have a lovely evening."

She reasoned he hardly needed her good wishes, but she wanted to offer them all the same.

………

"Hello, Rebecca."

Rebecca looked up quickly to see Bridget standing there, wearing a mackintosh and a bright top and skirt underneath. She was smiling, and from the look of it, it was in no way forced. Rebecca could not help herself and beamed a bright smile back up to Bridget.

"Bridget," she said. "It's so nice to see you. I'm sorry, Mark's not here."

"Oh, I know," she said. "I was actually here to see you."

"Me?"

"Yes, I was just coming by to invite you to a drinks party this weekend. Saturday, seven o'clock, Mark's house. Would have called, but was down here anyway for work…"

Rebecca was surprised, and touched beyond belief. "Oh. That'd be really nice—my weekend is totally free. Thank you."

"Great!" she said. "I'm so glad. You were such a good friend to Mark during—well, two months I'd rather just forget."

Rebecca offered a small smile. "I understand congratulations are in order."

Her former cheeriness returned, but her smile was a little bashful. "Yes," she said. "Thanks."

"May I see—?" She started to ask for a look at the ring, but stopped short.

Bridget, however, anticipated the question, and thrust her left hand forward. "It's gorgeous, isn't it? He has such good taste."

"Yes he does," she said. Without thinking she took Bridget's hand to have a closer look; her hands were soft, her nails recently manicured and painted with pale pink gloss. She looked at the glittering stone and smiled again, as if their happiness washed into her. "Lovely."

"Thanks." Bridget took her hand back and stood upright again.

"I'm glad he finally found the moment to ask," Rebecca said.

She drew her brows together. "'Finally'?"

"He had the ring—" She stopped again. If Mark hadn't told her, perhaps it was not her place to do so.

"Rebecca," said Bridget in a very serious tone. "He had the ring for how long?"

Quietly she said, "Since February."

She blinked rapidly. "February?"

Rebecca nodded. "Yeah."

She watched Bridget's eyes get a little misty. "Oh. Oh!" She suddenly looked mortified. "Law Council Dinner?"

Recalling the box in his suit pocket, Rebecca said with a little nod, "As a matter of fact, yes."

Bridget clasped her hand over her mouth, tears glimmering in her eyes. "Oh my God. And I said I'd say 'no'!"

"Bridget?"

Bridget whipped around at the sound of Mark's voice, whom Rebecca could not see from her present position; Rebecca realised in peering around her that he had one of the Peruvian dignitaries, Mr Santiago, with him. This seemed to matter little to Bridget. She ran to Mark, her arms outstretched, and jumped up to throw them around his neck and plant a big kiss right on his lips before hugging him within an inch of his life, burrowing her face into his shoulder. His arms came up to embrace her, though a red flush could be seen creeping up from under his collar.

"Everything all right?" Mark said, turning his gaze to Rebecca.

"Everything's fine," Rebecca replied with a smile.

"You had this ring in February, Mark Darcy," Bridget said, her voice muffled though tremulous. "February! I am the world's biggest idiot and I don't deserve you."

He queried Rebecca with his eyes; she only mouthed the word Sorry.

With a smirk, he mouthed back, shaking his head slightly, Don't be.

Rebecca smiled, looking down briefly.

"Miss Gillies, nice to see you, and you too, young lady," said Mr Santiago, bowing to Rebecca and Bridget in turn.

Bridget stood upright, her skin pink. "Hello, sir," she said, backing away, standing rather primly with her hands together. "Please, forgive me. I'm still getting used to the idea that I… well… deserve Mr Darcy here."

Mark chuckled, along with Santiago. "It is quite all right," the Peruvian said. "It is clearly a reunion that is a long overdue. And we all need a little spark in our lives, no?" He winked at Rebecca.

She smiled. "Well said, Mr Santiago."

"I was just stopping by to get some paperwork before returning to the meeting," said Mark. He still had Bridget's hand in his. "Still on for later?"

"Wild horses couldn't keep me away," Bridget said with a grin.

To Rebecca's surprise he bent and kissed Bridget, placing his free hand on her face; the kiss lingered a little longer than she would have expected given they were in the office. Rebecca lowered her gaze until she heard him say, "Until later."

Mark headed for the door, but Rebecca cleared her throat gently.

"Was there something else?" Mark asked.

Rebecca held up the envelope containing the papers he'd come for. With a sheepish grin, he stepped forward and took it from her grasp before darting out for good.

Bridget was still smiling moonily after they left. "Still feel like I'm dreaming," she said. "Feel like at any moment I'll wake and be back in the Thai prison."

"Prison must have been awful," said Rebecca.

"Oh, you have no idea," Bridget said.

"I'm very glad Mark was able to do what he did."

"That's the odd thing," she said. "No one told me he was working so hard for me. Not even him."

Rebecca thought back to what he'd said about being an arse when he saw her in the prison. "I think he was afraid of letting on he still loved you."

"Yeah," she admitted. "That and he was angry about Daniel. My ex. Ugh. Worlds apart from Mark in every way."

"Bridget!" It was Giles, who had just come in.

Bridget turned to face him. "Hello Giles. How are you?"

"Very well," he said, then waggled his eyebrows, smiling. "Didn't interrupt anything, did I?"

Bridget slapped his upper arm playfully before noticing the clock on the wall. "Crikey. Is that the time?"

"Mm-hm," said Rebecca.

"Oh dear. Have to get back. Talk to you soon," she said. "Maybe lunch sometime?"

Rebecca smiled broadly. "I'd like that."

Bridget waved, then stepped out of the office.

"Have a date?" joked Giles.

"You are incorrigible," said Rebecca with a smirk.

………

Rebecca had never seen Mark's house all done up for a fancy party before. It was a gorgeous place regardless, but Mark—or Bridget, she suspected—had turned it into something rivalling palatial elegance. There were ivory pillar candles lit on the table in the foyer, and armfuls of fresh flowers on the occasional table as well as in the front sitting room. In the dining room, the tablecloth and the sideboard runners appeared to be sheer silver silk; the window treatments had been done over with the same fabric too. The table settings upon which the hors d'oeuvres were being presented were heirloom and quite refined, the silverware ornate and tasteful, the stemware clearly of the finest crystal.

Rebecca was among the last to arrive, despite it only being twenty minutes past seven. Present were Jeremy and Magda, Giles, and the two women she had seen in Mark's office late that night when Mark had learned of Bridget's ordeal.

"Oh, I am so glad you made it!" It was Bridget; she looked beautiful in a long dress made of blue silk, her hair pulled back into a stunning silver barrette at the base of her neck. As seemed to be the norm and as just Mark had predicted, she wore little adornment in the way of jewellery, only her silver heart necklace, and, Rebecca noticed with a small smile, her lovely diamond ring. "Let me introduce you to my friends. Shazzer! Jude!"

The women from that meeting in Mark's office turned upon hearing their names, and offered tentative, polite smiles as Bridget and Rebecca approached. "Hello," said the blonde.

"Shaz, Jude, this is Rebecca Gillies, Mark's secretary," said Bridget. Rebecca offered her hand to each of them in turn. "Rebecca, this is Shaz, or rather, Sharon. And this is Jude."

The women's brows furrowed with a sort of curiosity at the sound of her name. "Rebecca," said the brunette, Jude. "We've heard so much about you."

"Oh, I didn't realise you were that Rebecca," asked Sharon, overlapping Jude a little. "You work for Mark? I thought your father owned half of Australia."

"Sharon!" said Bridget.

Even as she was surprised and even a little offended by this woman's brash directness, Rebecca blushed. "Well, not quite," she said. "He is well off, but I prefer to live a life of my own choosing." She looked to Bridget, then back to her new acquaintances. "What have you heard about me?"

The three of them started to chuckle.

"Pay no attention to Shaz, who has no concept of tact," said Bridget. "And I put very little stock in the things that Janey Osbourne has to say."

Ah, thought Rebecca. The world's most obnoxious busybody.

"We've kind of been along for the ride the whole time," explained Jude. "When we thought you were trying to pinch Mark and everything. But we know the whole story now, and if Bridge thinks you're okay, then we do, too."

"Thanks," she said, touched that she'd say so, yet somehow unsurprised that Bridget's friends had that much trust in her.

"Where the hell is Tom?" asked Jude.

"Let me text him. Fucking late again," said Sharon as she reached for her mobile. As the two of them stepped away, she turned and added, "Nice to meet you, Rebecca."

"Nice to meet you too."

As the two of them wandered away, Rebecca asked, "The whole story?"

"Well," said Bridget with a smile, "the condensed version, anyway."

Rebecca smiled, then frowned a little. "Where's Mark?"

"He's around here somewhere. Very odd," said Bridget, looking around. "It's not like he's hard to miss."

Rebecca laughed. "I don't see him—oh wait, here he is."

Mark entered the room with another man, the third person unknown to Rebecca at that meeting about Bridget being in prison, and Mark's expression was somewhere between amused and horrified, at least until he saw Rebecca. "Hello," he said, managing a small smile. "Glad you could come."

"Thank you so much for inviting me. Everything looks lovely."

"Oh, Rebecca," Bridget said, "this is my friend Tom. Tom, Rebecca."

Tom shook her hand, offering an impish smile. "Legs up to here, indeed."

Bridget rolled her eyes. "Not like you're interested." She looked from Tom to Mark back to Tom again. "Tom. What have you been saying to Mark?"

Rebecca had only just truly met Tom, but it was clear that Tom was feigning innocence. "What makes you think I said anything?"

"He was giving me the talk, Bridget," said Mark.

"The talk?"

"Mm," said Mark, slipping his arm around Bridget's shoulders, pressing a kiss into her hair; this spontaneous act of affection without apparent conscious thought was adorable and so very unlike the old Mark. It made Rebecca smile. "Advising me, like an overprotective patriarch, that should I ever hurt you, they'll—what was the phrase you used, Tom?—tie my bollocks 'round my neck." Tom looked quite pleased.

At that Bridget began to laugh, and Rebecca found she could not stop herself from laughing too—both that Mark would repeat such a thing, and the very thought that Mark would ever do anything to intentionally hurt Bridget given what he'd gone through the first half of this year.

Regaining her breath, Bridget grabbed Tom's elbow. "Come on. Let's get you a drink—excuse me, will you?"

"That's fine," replied Rebecca before turning and smiling at Mark. "It was really sweet of you to invite me today, given everything that happened."

"Actually, Rebecca," said Mark, "I'd like to talk to you in private about that."

"Oh," she said. Rebecca had wondered when this might come up; Mark had been so wrapped up in his reunion that he was hardly aware of anyone or anything but Bridget. "Sure."

He smiled. "No need to look panicked."

The two of them went back into the entryway, then headed for Mark's office for a little privacy. Mark closed the door behind them.

"About what you said to convince Bridget of my fidelity. Specifically, what you did." He paused as if to consider his words. "Bridget seems to believe that your confession was a bit of an exaggeration to get her to believe you weren't interested in men. In me. That the kiss was just an over the top exclamation mark at the end of your sentence. But I think I know better."

Rebecca felt her face flush, and she glanced down. "It was only a peck."

"Oh, Becky, I'm not angry," Mark said. "In fact, I can honestly sympathise. After all, I myself was unable to resist falling for her." The glimmer of a grin touched on his lips. "I also know that if you'd planned on acting on how you feel, you would have done so while Bridget and I were apart."

"Mark—" she began, then stopped. She had no idea what to say.

"I guess what I'm saying is: as far as I am concerned, nothing has changed between you and I," he said.

Rebecca stuttered, "I—I'm glad."

"And not only do I trust Bridget implicitly, but she's as straight as an arrow."

Rebecca smiled, recalling Bridget's words on Mark's front porch the day she'd come back into his life.

"That said," continued Mark, "I know that Bridget would like to become friends with you—that won't be a problem, will it?" he asked.

"No," Rebecca replied automatically.

Mark smiled broadly. "Excellent. Glad we cleared that up. So let's go have something to drink, shall we?"

………

It didn't surprise Rebecca in the least that Bridget was late; given what she knew of her so far, this seemed to be the norm. She didn't mind in the least. It gave her time to reflect about the party last weekend, the genuinely good time she'd had in not only welcoming Bridget back to England, but celebrating her engagement to Mark. She also thought about how much she was looking forward to becoming better friends with Bridget… and how interesting it was that the more she got to know Bridget, the less like a love-struck teen she felt.

"Hey, you're early."

Bridget's voice startled her out of her thoughts, and she looked up with a smile. "No," she said with a light laugh. "You're late."

"Sorry. I meant to be early," she said, removing her overcoat to slip it on to the back of her chair before sitting down. She looked lovely in a rose-coloured sweater and a black skirt with printed flowers in that same shade of pink. "So," said Bridget brightly, still smiling.

"So," Rebecca said in return, her smile widening.

Bridget grinned, then began to laugh, and Rebecca did too, to the point that by the time the waiter came around to take their drink orders, they were giggling uncontrollably and breathless with laughter. They each managed to order a glass of wine, and at last, settled down until they were returning to something approaching a normal state.

"That was—" began Bridget.

"Not very dignified," supplied Rebecca.

"I was going to say 'silly'," she replied, then chuckled again.

"What?"

"'Not very dignified'," Bridget said. "You sound like Mark."

Rebecca felt a flush heat her skin.

As the wine arrived, Bridget pulled herself to sit upright and held her glass aloft. "So, where shall we begin?"

Rebecca lifted her glass too, then began talking.

The end.