Pride and Publicists

By Lucinda

Jump to new as of August 6, 2001
Jump to new as of August 14, 2001
Jump to new as of September 2, 2001

Chapter 1

Posted on Friday, 27 July 2001

Meryton was by no means a mecca of business, arts, or politics. However in its own charming way it held its own in the cruel world known as Michigan. A small progressive town nestled within the confines of the lower peninsula, somewhere a couple of hundred miles away from the bustle of Detroit and plunked down around patches of Michigan's famous cherry orchards, it sprawled slowly and sleepily like a lazy, growing teenager deciding that noon was a good time to wake up and finally think about the future. It was a nice place to grow up, but the general consensus was that it was also a good place to get out of, too.

Elizabeth Bennet was one of those who needed to get out of town. She was at her mother and father's house today, a comfortable house that screamed middle-class from each green and white awning to each overgrown peony bush in the front yard that drooped heavily with dew and rainwater.

"Mr. Bennet!" trilled her mother's voice from the kitchen. Elizabeth sat in the living room in front of the large bay window that showed two of your high-school aged sisters scrambling out of a rusty white Honda. Their shrill giggles wafted, or rather punctuated the air with sound as a fleet of air force pilots on speed would if doing practice flights through their neighborhood. "MR. BENNET!" came her mother's voice again. "I have the most amazing discovery! Where are you hiding yourself, my dear?"

Mrs. Bennet came tumbling into the room where Elizabeth sat meditating over a pencil and paper. She panted, eyes bright, and complexion heightened with a pinkness that disturbed to Elizabeth. But the ping of fear she felt soon gave way as she realized that her mother was in one of her "moods" again where her condition resembled what bad actors would consider having a heart attack would be like. She returned to staring at the piece of paper. She kicked at a pile of books and magazines at her feet irritably.

"Lizzy, do you know where your father is?" A blue magazine flapped excitedly in her mother's hand, the pages trembling. Elizabeth wondered if it was doing so in time with the raptures of her mother, or if they trembled so in fear. If she had to empathize with the magazine, she would pick the latter.

"He is in the study, Mama, but he's working..."

The blue magazine was thrust into Elizabeth's face, a page coming precariously close to scratching one particularly fine, brown eye. Elizabeth jerked sideways and crashed into the wall as her sisters Lydia and Kitty burst into the house, a flurry of excitement to be out of school and even greater excitement because of the homecoming football game being held tonight that pitted the Meryton Militia Men against the Rosings Park Royals.

"Look!" cried Mrs. Bennet, the magazine advancing on Elizabeth again. "Do you not see? Oh, isn't he handsome?" There was some more blubbering and fawning that Elizabeth missed as more noise continued to assault her formerly quiet domain.

"Lizzy!" cried Lydia, flying into the room. "You're home, though I don't know what for." She laughed explosively as if she had just told the best joke of all time, and flopped down into the sofa. "Are you coming to the homecoming game tonight?"

"Yes, are you?" added Kitty who was a little calmer than her younger sister. "It is sort of the point that former graduates come back. And you were on homecoming court your senior year." A twinge of jealousy touched Kitty's voice. She was a senior this year and had no such distinction as her two eldest sisters had previously held, especially Jane whom had been elected as queen by a landslide.

"Thanks, but no thanks," Elizabeth answered good naturedly. "Although I'll be sad to miss the Michigan Militia in action." Her eyes twinkled at this, but no one else caught her allusion. She sighed and returned her attention to her mother who was getting more agitated at being ignored.

"Yes, Mother?" she asked tiredly.

An extremely exasperated sigh came from her mother's lips. "Well you of all people should know this, but I doubt you do." Elizabeth quirked an eyebrow but let her mother continue on without interruption. The magazine came very close again, but Mrs. Bennet held it at enough of a distance to avoid injury to Elizabeth, and close enough for her to get a discerning look.

There was a picture of a very tall, lean man, his silhouette dripping dark brooding and intensity. Most of his face was shadowed, which as a shame because he gave the impression of being handsome, and he was in profile at that. He was staring out the window, and Elizabeth could not help thinking that this was not a happy man. The room he stood in was obviously an office, but one without clutter; without adornment. There was a menacing sexiness to its Spartan nature, and Elizabeth would have sworn her mother was showing her a supermarket celebrity magazine if she had not caught the words, "CEO of Pemberly Publishing Inc. and subsidiaries." Before she could read on the periodical was ripped away from her site with accompanying squeals.

"Let me see!"

"I had it first, Lydia! Give it back!"

Elizabeth rolled her eyes and wondered how fast she could get out of the Bennet household and back to her apartment, or even to Jane's apartment which was much closer. Much too close for Elizabeth's own comfort, that was for sure. Her mother's excited laughter brought her once again, and most unpleasantly, back to reality.

"And he is coming here, to Meryton!"

"What?"

"And you call yourself a reporter. I don't know why you didn't go into business like I said, or fashion design. That's where the real money is, Lizzy girl. Like I told your father, 'What is that girl going to do with an English major? She'll write herself into poverty!' That's what I said. And now Mary is off at college studying British history and music. What will I ever do with you girls? Well, at least Jane had the providence to go into something practical like education, and look at how successful she is now with her daycare center. The best in the area, I've heard everyone declare. But English, Lizzy? How will you ever support yourself, if not me and your father when we are old and crippled and sick from the cruelties of life?"

"Mom. You forget father was an English major, and he owns the Longbourne Gazette, which has kept this family fed and clothed all these years. And you forget too, that I work there."

Mrs. Bennet sniffed disdainfully. "It's certainly no Meryton Daily Register. Why, it only comes out once a week. How are we supposed to live on that sort of income?"

"Well enough! We are hardly what you called impoverished, and," Elizabeth added acidly in a hiss, "I would sooner marry our cousin, Mr. Collins than work for that conservative piece of fluff! I mean, it might as well declare with foot-tall headlines that women belong in the kitchen and men, as the hunter and gatherers of the human tribe should be out killing our endangered species for burgers and barbecue ribs on Saturday nights! It's preposterous what that...."

"What is this racket?" came an oddly calm voice into the hubbub. Mr. Bennet came into the doorway. "Have I missed something important? Are pigs running amuck in the yard, or has Lydia just put in one of her horrendous pop music CDs? Oh, Lizzy," he remarked upon seeing her. "Why are you still here? Did you not manage to escape your mother's clutches in time? Or did your sisters detain you with some of their empty-headed gossip?"

"Originally, neither." Elizabeth shot a glance at her female relatives who were too absorbed with themselves to pay attention to the father-daughter exchange going on. She gestured to her work table. "I was struck by an idea after I finished speaking to you about next week's featured article and I figured it would be best to write it down right away before I forget." She sighed unhappily. "But it seems all for naught. Total writer's block."

Mr. Bennet had now fully entered the room and had made his way over to his two youngest daughters who were paging through the previously offending blue magazine. Lydia and Kitty were giggling madly over it, pointing and covering their mouths in scandalous delight, but put up no fight when Mr. Bennet confiscated the magazine, examined it briefly with an enigmatic smile, and moved to where Elizabeth sat at the writing table. He dropped the magazine in front of her and paged quickly to the section where her mother had previously been forcing on her.

"What is this? Mother was just showing this to me."

"This, Lizzy, is a gentleman soon to be taking Meryton by storm, and this is whom you are currently experiencing writer's block about. You see, he is the owner of Pemberly Publishing which is coming to set up a smaller branch of its offices here in Meryton very soon."

Indeed, Elizabeth was writing the feature article this week about the affect such a big company would have on their modest little city.

"He looks very handsome," Kitty remarked in a half-hearted kind of way, more used to the conventional beauties of boy bands and pre-teen movie superstars.

"And he is disgustingly rich!" exclaimed Lydia who received a glare from her father. Mrs. Bennet shook with spasms of happiness.

"Mayor Lucas tells me that there is to be a welcoming assembly for him next Saturday. I hear that this was all set up in advance by Bingley and Company, apparently a very prestigious publicist firm in New York. You and I will be attending for purely academic reasons. " He gave his wife and youngest daughters an appraising look, then sighed resignedly. "Others though, I can vouch will not be doing so. Rather, I think the opposite. But what is a party without a scene? I'm sure it will give this Mr. William Darcy quite a colorful impression of us all."

"No doubt," Elizabeth murmured, her eyes darting to the picture of the mostly obscured man, staring so far away in that picture, and suddenly coming so near in so soon a time.

Chapter 2

Posted on Saturday, 28 July 2001

He should have been used to things like this by now-he certainly had enough practice at it--but he wasn't. However perfunctory and practiced the press junkets or "welcoming parties," as Charles called them, were, William Darcy still felt strangely nervous, or at least mildly anxious whenever he had to attend an event where his company was the main focus, or "featured presentation" as he'd like to call it. Ever since taking over Pemberley Publishing five years ago when his father had passed away leaving him the reigns, the whirlwind of activity had only increased. Some people enjoyed these lavish parties and get-togethers where the powerful and beautiful mingled, made deals, and stabbed each other in the back with the friendliest of smiles. For instance, Charles and Caroline Bingley, although for reasons that could not be more polar opposite than they already were.

Charles loved the people and their company. He loved everything, it seemed, in general, and everyone loved him right back for his genuine sincerity and amiability. It was hardly a wonder that he was head of one of the top publicity agencies in New York. If one wanted to be adored, or at least tolerated, Bingley and Company was the place to call. Will, not precisely known for his affability and openness in large groups, knew how lucky he was not only to have Charles Bingley representing him, but having him as his closest friend, and visa versa.

Then there was Caroline, a wunderkind at PR in her own right. Most people whispered that she only had such a high position at Bingley and Company because she was the president's sister, but secretly they knew, (but would run into oncoming traffic before they would admit), that she could spin the spin better than most people in the same business. She relished the power--dishing it, getting it, and taking it all away with a snap of her fingers. Caroline flattered and preened, airbrushing the images of her clients like a master bored with how easy it was. If trouble arose she was the Doberman in the corner, snarling and foaming at the mouth, ready to bite the heads off anyone who dared to further sully the image of those who paid her the big bucks. And when the cloud passed she could become Miss Mary Sunshine again, and all would be well in the world.

Will strode around the large ballroom where the "welcoming party" was enduring the finishing touches. Caroline, barking at the caterers, stopped for a moment to smile at him. He returned the smile with reluctance and turned away so he could let out the grimace that came naturally with encounters with her flirtatious side. It confounded him that someone who excelled at making others look good had absolutely no inkling of how to work the same magic on herself. She could be more or less tolerable, but he knew that he only put up with her for Charles's sake. Lately though, he noticed her increasing preoccupation with himself and the state of matrimony, and it made him shudder involuntary, sometimes at the most awkward or random moments.

"Darcy! Isn't this grand?"

Charles.

"As always, Bingley, you do a remarkable job, although, do you think," he said gesturing to the elaborate ice sculpture and gourmet buffet, "this is a little extravagant for Meryton, Michigan? Or should I mention, this entire press junket? It's not like we're bulldozing half the town to build a skyscraper. I'm simply opening a Midwestern branch. "

"Nonsense! These people may not be sophisticated as the lot we're used to, but that doesn't mean they don't deserve the same treatment."

"But it hardly means that they'll know how to act in such an environment. I would hardly be surprised if they mistaken the garnish for the appetizer."

Charles simply laughed and slapped his friend soundly on the shoulder. Will's face tightened.

Turning to find somewhere to sit, Will heard a tremendous noise coming from the hallway. What the . . . ?

"Charles!" he shouted, distress coloring his tone of voice.

"Didn't I tell you we were getting a live band, Darce?" his friend said grinning broadly. He had come jogging up to him as soon as the noise had begun. "This should be a real party. I think the Meryton populace will be a lot more apt to dance. The lot in New York and Boston are rather too stuffed-shirt for my taste. They're far too disdainful of actually having a good time, wouldn't you agree? "

"I think that's what I like about them," Will muttered. Charles didn't hear him and almost clapped in jubilation at the fun to be had later on in the evening. His blue eyes danced, and it seemed every golden ringlet of hair on his head bounced along with him in anticipation.

Will's eyes darted around the room in the meanwhile, wondering where there was a coat room or similar, where he could run to and hide until this was all over.

"You know, Jane, this may be fun after all." Elizabeth fumbled around with an earring. She winced as it found the right spot, the pointy back practically repiercing a hole that had partially re-healed from lack of use.

Her sister smiled sweetly as she readjusted her skirt. "What did I tell you, Lizzy? I don't know why you were so pessimistic about this to begin with. It seems it will be a pleasant evening, and you must admit, it is something to do."

"Yes, that is true. There are only so many times one can go to the movies or go out to eat without either going broke or gaining the weight equivalent to a third leg. I just can't help at wondering at all of this, though."

"At what?"

"Well, opening a publishing house hardly merits a big party that makes the effort to invite the press. It just seems suspicious, and makes me wonder at what ulterior motives might be at work."

Jane laughed. "Always the reporter. And I always thought you wanted to write novels. Father's influence has certainly made its mark on you."

"Well don't you think it's strange that of all places a powerhouse company like Pemberly Publishing would pick Meryton over say, Chicago, Detroit, or Milwaukee for a Midwestern office? Perhaps they're hiding from something, and they think that they can run away from their problems from a small town."

"That seems hardly the case, Lizzy." Jane walked over to her jewelry box and began to pick through her baubles, finally deciding on a simple, pearl drop pendant that went with the silver-blue dress she wore. "I'm sure the people at Pemberly Publishing have read enough books to know that if anything, all a small town has to do is talk and gossip. They could hardly escape from such a thing no matter where they went, no less here."

"But why the publicists? The supposed entourage of body guards, make-up artists, and personal masseuse? "

"Perhaps that's just gossip. The group might prove to be smaller than first reported. But you'll have a chance to ask Mr. Darcy himself about all of this, won't you, Lizzy? Didn't you set up an interview with him for later this week?"

Elizabeth acknowledged that she had, via a Mr. Bingley. "I just want to know the facts, though. Be ready for it, you know?"

"Well, unless you start getting dressed," Jane said, indicating the simple, but elegant cream blouse and black skirt Elizabeth had placed on her bed, "you'll never be ready for the party."

Will Darcy stalked the perimeter of the room as per usual. People had begun pouring into the assembly room. 'And in all manner of dress!' Caroline had remarked snottily to him as she eyed people decked out in clothing ranging from jeans and sweater vests to what, according to her, looked like off-the-rack prom dresses. He had just escaped her witty comments, but the impression had left its mark. He could not help noticing now the silly dress and behavior of the people around here. Nerves had turned into annoyance and he continued to brood as he paced, hoping that either he would shake the mood or that he could escape notice by staying out of the fray.

However, if he only knew how much this was drawing attention to himself, he would have stopped immediately and made a run for that coat room he had been thinking about earlier. Amongst a room full of people thoroughly enjoying themselves and mingling, he stood as the only person grumping around and looking displeased. As word spread that this was William Darcy, the inevitable talk began.

Elizabeth and Jane Bennet had arrived before the rest of their family having gotten ready together at Jane's apartment. Both lovely and well-liked, friends and acquaintances came in a steady stream to welcome them, and of course, spread the gossip.

Mrs. Lucas, the mayor's wife began her conversation with them not by greeting, but by pointing out the lean and handsome man making himself disagreeable over by the pate. "He's very handsome. I hear that back in New York he was voted most eligible bachelor, but he hasn't said a word to anyone so far, from what I hear. I have to say I'm a bit miffed he hasn't introduced himself to me. I am the first lady of this town, after all."

"So that is Mr. Darcy?" Jane said.

"Very lean and smoldering," Elizabeth said with a wicked grin.

"Do you think we should introduce ourselves?" Jane asked as Mrs. Lucas disappeared to greet the next round of people entering the room. However Jane never had the chance because at that moment the tornado that was Charles Bingley interrupted what Elizabeth was to say and introduced himself.

"So you are Ms. Bennet!" He shook her hand vigorously. "It's absolutely delightful to finally meet you. I hope you'll have a pleasant time this evening!"

"You just want me to do a good write-up on your client," Elizabeth said teasingly, but Charles, not understanding her humor broke into earnest apologizes that that was not his intention at all, and it took Elizabeth a minute or two before he was sufficiently calmed and satisfied that she had not mistaken him. Near the end of these apologies, however, he was suddenly struck dumb. Elizabeth looked and saw that his attention had finally fallen on Jane who had remained demure and quiet during their exchange.

"Mr. Bingley ..."

"Charles, please."

"Then please call me Elizabeth. This is my elder sister, Jane Bennet."

Jane, shyer than usual managed to say, "It's a pleasure to meet you, Charles."

"Do you like to dance?" he suddenly blurted out, but to Jane and not Elizabeth. "Because if you do," he continued haphazardly, cheeks rosy with embarrassment, "I would be honored if you would dance the first dance with me. That is, if the band ever plays anything besides this dull stuff."

Jane consented and the two simply stared at each other for a moment longer before Elizabeth felt the need to clear her throat.

"Oh! How rude of me! May I introduce you ladies to some friends of mine? My colleague, err, well actually my sister, Caroline is here too, and of course my friend and client, William Darcy." He pointed to the perimeter man, and Elizabeth smiled to herself that she had been correct in her assumption as to who William Darcy was. "I'm sure Darcy will like you very much," he added to Elizabeth. Elizabeth noticed how he had only addressed her and not Jane. She smiled and thought, in love with my sister so soon? Men. How territorial! But this was an endearing trait in Charles Bingley, and Jane hadn't noticed it, or at least hadn't taken the comment as a slight, so Elizabeth did likewise.

Charles offered his arm to both of them, and they made their way through the crowd. William Darcy was still prowling around and looking very unhappy. He didn't notice their approach.

Perhaps he may like me, Elizabeth thought as she noted his sour look, but I don't know how much I may like him.

Chapter 3

Posted on Wednesday, 1 August 2001

"I am so sorry that you have to endure this, Will," Caroline whispered sympathetically in his ear.

Will nearly catapulted into a large fern. He had not seen her coming, and Caroline, being Caroline, had taken the liberty of not simply addressing him without warning, she did it by trying to whisper directly into his ear, blowing faintly by means of increasing the seductive nature of the action (which, in actuality, failed miserably). Will supposed that it was better than having her whisper sweet nothings to him, but really, it was of little consolation.

He straightened himself but did not turn to meet her eye. He watched those gathered before him instead. "You forget, Caroline," he began stiffly, "you were the one that set this whole thing up."

"Pish posh," she clicked dismissively. "It was what Charles wanted, and he would not have it any other way." She sighed affectedly. "If only I had been given sole control of this account. But you know how he is."

The truth was, Caroline had only been given permission to work on this particular account because she had psychologically-beaten Charles into it, lecturing him for months on why she should be involved. Her brother would have relented right away, his nature so complying and kind, but he knew Will's disposition regarding Caroline, and he esteemed his friend so much that he would never do anything that would displease him. Charles had only relented after Will saw his deteriorating mental state in the hands of his sister. However there was one condition: That Charles be in primary control and Caroline, due to some persuading by Will, would handle the small (but "important") details to give it her special touch. Her vanity flattered, Charles' sanity saved, Will thought himself a good friend and diplomat until now, when he began to question his wisdom in this eleventh hour.

"I would have set up the most sophisticated little event, and," she continued with a sweeping gesture, "one without the attendance of the dregs of society." She laughed, no doubt attempting to have it sound like tinkling crystal or coins spilling together. Will had heard this laugh before, as well as her accompanying commentary on how she thought it sounded. He rather thought it sounded horsy, alternately high and then low. He recalled her real laugh, and it was quite normal. He wished she would've stuck to that, or best yet, simply left him alone. But it was a wish entirely in vain.

She continued to flatter him. He continued to give her "a hint," which she missed. But he was saved, when, spotting a couple who looked quite rich, or at least moderately upper-middle class, she excused herself and buzzed her beeline in their general direction.

His mood entirely spoiled now, Will lost himself in his own thoughts and paced. If only he could be at home right now or on vacation with Georgiana, he thought. Although young and still with a lot more maturing to go, his sister was at least sane, and not the least grating on the nerves. Thoughts of her inevitably turned his thoughts to her recent troubles, and the worry only proved to furrow his forehead further.

"Darce!"

Will looked up, astonished, but not astonished, to see Charles approaching him with two women on his arms. He rolled his eyes, a well practiced expression of his that although subtle, was powerful at showing his contempt. Country tarts.

"Charles," he answered cordially, inclining his head to the two new strangers. He gave them a quick once-over, looking them both in the eye. Will generally found that under his intense scrutiny that a person's true character would come out depending on their reaction to him. The blonde one, he had to admit, was very pretty, and she smiled complacently at him. The brunette, however, was making him nervous. He felt his stomach flip and make desperately to claw up his esophagus in order to escape. He tried to suppress the feeling. She was looking at him so intently that he found he could not hold eye contact with her any longer. He turned his attention back to Charles who was eager to make introductions.

"Ladies, this is my good friend, William Darcy. Undoubtedly you've heard of him. Will, this is Jane Bennet." His smile was large, but it froze there when Charles realized that he had little more to add to her description, at least nothing he could say out loud at this juncture in their acquaintance.

"My sister," the other woman offered. "She runs a prominent day care here in Meryton."

Charles nodded encouragingly, then turned to introduce the brunette.

"And this is Elizabeth Bennet." Will and Elizabeth briefly acknowledged each other. "She is a reporter for the Longbourne Gazette. You have an interview together later this week. Maybe you can become acquainted tonight!"

Will was hardly paying attention. Something was causing a stir near the entrance, and his attention had been drawn towards the noise. He saw a flighty woman in a lime green dress suit enter, her voice carrying over the hum. Behind her came, no doubt, her daughters. He was shocked at their outfits. They looked like common hookers. He prayed Georgiana had never even entertained thoughts of purchasing anything like that. Then his cellular phone began to ring insistently in his pocket. He felt his heart jump. It could only be one person-on this particular phone at least.

"Uh, excuse me." He immediately moved away from them without another word and headed towards the terrace in order to get a clearer signal.

Elizabeth was absolutely miffed. How abominablely rude! she thought. What kind of impression was he trying to give off? This was hardly a way to introduce yourself into society, that was for sure. And his actions after hearing that she was a reporter were beyond suspicious. However there was little time to think on these matters. The noise, Elizabeth soon discovered, was the entrance of the remainder of the Bennet family. She shot Jane a meaningful glance and excusing herself to Charles, headed over to her family before matters got even more out of hand.

"Oh my, isn't this nice?" Mrs. Bennet trilled. Kitty and Lydia came bounding in after their mother, faces flushed and already giggly beyond comprehension. Mr. Bennet came in caboose looking amused.

"Oooh!" the younger girls squealed in unison as they spotted a cluster of boys in Meryton Militia letter jackets by the buffet table. The boys appeared to see them and straightened up immediately, posing in the cockiest manner they could manage.

Lydia pulled her sister by the hand. "There's Denny and Sandy! Let's go and ask them what they think of our new dresses! What do you think they'll say if I ask them if they think my skirt is short enough? I'll bet they blush beet red!" They left a trail of giggles and silliness in their wake. And they had only just arrived.

Elizabeth had just reached her family to hear this, but her sisters were off before she could stop them. Her mother had grabbed her arm and now held her as the hostage of her disclosure.

"Oh, Lizzy!" she exulted, "this is some party, isn't it? Look at all the food, and the decorations! How elegant! And how well everyone looks." There was a pause, and leaning towards her second daughter Mrs. Bennet whispered, "Well, not everyone. Mr. and Mrs. Gouldings look as though they just woke up, and what isMary King wearing? I've never seen anything so ugly in my life. Does she not know that redheads should never wear that shade of pink?" She laughed merrily. "Well, regardless no one compares to my girls. Especially Jane . . ." Her words trailed as she saw her eldest across the room speaking to a handsome young man. "Oh, oh!" Mrs. Bennet was having one of her attacks of excitement. They commonly were characterized by some sort of vocal rendition of heart palpitations. Elizabeth knew the symptoms all too well.

"What is it, Mama?"

"Who is that handsome man with Jane? He looks so well dressed, and so, well, rich! That is Mr. Darcy, I am sure. Oh, I knew Jane was so beautiful for a reason. He looks already in love with her."

"That is not Mr. Darcy," Elizabeth said patiently. "That is Mr. Bingley, Mr. Darcy's publicist. I've met him. He's a very nice man, although I cannot say the same about Mr. Darcy." Her last words were marked with disdain. "He's your typical rich man."

"And what, may I ask, Lizzy, is so wrong with that?"

Elizabeth did not have a chance to explain. Lydia's shriek pierced the room. One of the boys, Denny or Sandy, were holding high above his head a black garter. Lydia jumped up and down in delight. "Give it back!" she pouted, but it was clear it was for show. Elizabeth was horrified, but it only got worse as Lydia jumped onto the boy and appeared, to try and climb him. She was dumbstruck, and could hardly move until her mother exclaimed,

"Do you see that boy Lydia's with, Lizzy? That's Denny Masterson, and he's the captain of the Meryton Militia football team. His father owns Masterson's lumber. Also very rich." Then with a self-satisfied sigh, "My dear Lydia sure knows how to attract the good ones."

"Excuse me," Elizabeth blurted when she recovered her wits. She immediately made her way towards her sister. It was enough the reputation Lydia already had, but more talk was never welcome, especially in the company of strangers and those who would no doubt talk even more about those "wild Bennet girls."

Elizabeth almost stopped in mid-stride because she felt the weight of someone's gaze on her. Out of the corner of her eye she saw William Darcy looking at her intently. She flinched, then gathering up all her strength, turned away with a hot face to stop her sister for making things worse than they already were.

It had been a false alarm. Georgiana had simply called to see how things were going, and forgetting about the time difference had caught him before she had wanted. It felt good to speak to her, though. She had been so quiet of late, and he had worried about her incessantly before the incidents of last spring. She seemed a little more talkative tonight, but the conversation still remained short and un-detailed.

He slid the phone back into his coat pocket and surveyed the room for Charles. He saw his friend talking to the blonde that he had introduced earlier. A small, begrudging smile came to his face. In love again so soon, Charles? he thought. Faint reverie was short lived. The noise that had signaled his departure was still as apparent, although now it came from different quarters. A teenage girl by the buffet was jumping up and down scandalously, her skimpy dress providing little for support, and even less for the imagination. The other commotion came from the same lime-green woman. However his attention only remained on her briefly. Next to her he found the intense-eyed brunette, her face pleading. He heard her hiss, "Mama," and came to the startling conclusion that they were mother and daughter. When he saw her leave the lime-green woman and head towards the skimpily-clad girl, the next conclusion hit him like a bullet train. Her sister! Who else was tucked away in their family closet? He could only wonder.

So caught up in his own thoughts, Will hadn't realized how he was staring until the brunette turned to stare back at him, her gaze just as mighty as before. It made him back off, and he resumed his prowling of the perimeter. He checked his watch an groaned when he realized how much more was left to be endured.

Dancing. Will felt extremely uncomfortable. He would have been inconsolable if one more woman had come up to him to ask him to dance, but Caroline, claws extended, had made it clear enough that he was off-limits. He was pretty certain as to what she had told them, and as much as he hated the idea of Caroline going around and figuratively "marking her territory" around him, it served its purpose, and that was enough for him for now.

The music was hardly the kind he would have danced to anyway, and even Caroline knew that if she had asked he would have refused regardless of their acquaintance. And Caroline would never do anything knowingly to displease William Darcy. Charles seemed to be having a good time, though. He was out on the dance floor with the blond Jane again. They looked awkward, Will thought, but they looked to be enjoying themselves. The current song died away, and a substantial pause followed. Will looked towards the live band Charles had hired, then spotted the skimpily-clad girl again. She leaned towards the lead singer, one leg up in the air as she tossed her head. The man blushed; she whispered, and a new song began. Will choked when he heard the first chords of the song. It was a fast song, loud on bass and heavy on drums. It was something more appropriate for the clubbing scene, a song the DJ would only put on late into the night when only the hard-core partiers remained. Most of the older couples blanched or looked confused. They left the floor hurriedly while the younger set stormed on and began to dance shamelessly.

Charles had left the floor and left his pretty partner at the buffet table to refresh herself with some punch. His cheeks were red, his eyes bright. Will feared Bingley would soon burst if he didn't check himself. And he feared that Charles would burst near him and spread his indefatigable sense of good cheer like an infectious virus.

"Darcy, you have to dance. I insist!"

"You know I never dance. And certainly not to this music. You can hardly expect me to do this shake and wiggle bump and grind nonsense."

"I would not be as fastidious as you for the Microsoft fortune, Darcy! I'm sure a better song will come on soon. Come on. You're the guest of honor, you have to. And there are so many pretty girls, too." Will saw his eyes flicker over to Jane. "So very many."

"You are dancing with the only pretty woman here."

"Isn't she beautiful? And an absolute angel, too. I've never met such perfection! But come on, there are other pretty women here. What about her sister? She's very pretty, and extremely charming."

Elizabeth, who sat nearby, overheard the majority of this exchange. Her heart soared righteously at Charles' praise of Jane, and she was beginning to feel abashed at her eavesdropping when she heard herself mentioned. She folded her hands nervously in her lap. She saw William Darcy glance her way.

"She's tolerable, I suppose, but do you really expect me to dance with some corn-fed, country-bumpkin with little style and likely very little substance?" His thoughts flickered back to the lime-green woman and the scantily-clad girl. "I'm in no mood for this, Charles. I only wish this evening would end soon." He checked his watch with a relieved intake of breath. "And it appears that will be soon, according to your plan. Go back to your pretty partner before she turns into a pumpkin, Bingley. Enjoy her smiles."

Bingley didn't need to be told a second time and soon returned to Jane's side. He had been rather singular about it the entire night, and it left little doubt of his admiration for her. However Elizabeth was hardly aware of this. She had felt the sting of William Darcy's tongue, and although there had been some pain it soon went away. Gathering herself, she stood up and strode towards her friend Charlotte Lucas who stood near the open doors of the terrace. Elizabeth smiled. What was the insult of an over-bearing rich man to her? She resolved that he would not have the last laugh.

Charlotte, seeing her friend, waved. Elizabeth smiled brightly, her eyes shining with pleasure at the fun she was to have at the expense of William Darcy, and at the resolute way she had struck down any hurt that might have vexed another. Then, seeing the buffet table an idea struck her.

Will saw her pass by, saw the sly smile and playful eyes pass him. She walked directly before him, and although it was merely a feeling, he sensed she had purposely done so, and purposely ignored him to make a point. Had she heard him? He told himself that it didn't matter much if she had, but the knot twisting inside told him that he did care, although he didn't know why. And he didn't know why he could not take his eyes off of her, what he had to admit, pleasing figure. He watched her, insensible of all else around him. She stared intently at the food table, and seeing something catch her eye, swooped down to retrieve it. From there she made towards a plain, although not unattractive woman whom he had been introduced to as Charlotte Lucas, the mayor's daughter. Together, he saw them whispering, and Will thought he saw more than one look his way.

If he was unsure whether or not he was the subject of their conversation, certainty came trotting down the lane and cracked him upside the head with a cast-iron frying pan when he saw what happened next. Elizabeth Bennet revealed the object she had been searching the buffet table for. His mouth opened in astonishment as he saw her raise on a cocktail toothpick a piece of baby corn. She shot a meaningful look towards her friend, inclined her head slightly in his direction, and took a bite with relish. They laughed, and Will found himself turning away, face burning and flushed bright red.

His head pounded, and he found himself snapping at Caroline when she came to him again and attempted to blind him with her sparkling wit. He felt very disturbed by the evening's events, but not for the reason that he would have found logical. He should have been angry, insulted by Elizabeth Bennet, but he found he could not. More than once during the remainder of the evening did he find himself searching the crowd for her, and when the evening finally reached its inevitable conclusion, he found himself wishing the night was just beginning.

Chapter 4

Posted on Sunday, 5 August 2001

In Meryton there was little to do in terms of entertainment, especially in the off-season as it was now mid-September. That Will Darcy was not particularly inclined to:

a). go to one of eight restaurants that did not have drive-thru windows,
b). watch the latest crop of disappointing Hollywood movie by-products that usually came out this year that managed to make an appearance in one of the five movie screens in the old downtown Rialto theater, or
c). play miniature gold either by himself or with Caroline (neither of which could tempt him unless held at gun point, or at least for the latter option),

He was often left to his own thoughts, trapped in his hotel room, or for a change, enjoying the last of the nice weather poolside. Disturbingly, to him at least, his thoughts found themselves drawn to Elizabeth Bennet, her fine eyes, and a cob of baby corn, (in that order of importance). He'd reconsidered his indignation at her insult various times over the three days that had passed since the "welcoming party," and although he still felt that prick of insult when he thought about her open mocking of him, he wasn't insensible to fact that she hadn't meant him to see, that, and that his comment about her was hardly gentlemanly. And so very wrong, a little voice would admonish.

A newspaper was folded out in front of him, curled up to display a small headshot. His glass of green tea sat nearby, beads of condensation growing larger and larger as he kept it untouched. However the newspaper began to unroll and he sprang to grab the glass before it could damage that precious picture, that smiling face that if he could not see in person, he would have on paper.

Will sighed. He was alone again. Charles had been AWOL these last few days. Will only saw him at dinner and sometimes at breakfast, and seeing the contrast of early-morning exuberance turn into evening sullen disappointment, he could only figure that Charles was on the prowl. On the prowl through Meryton for a particularly pretty blonde and without success apparently.

Will sighed again, and it made his brain tired. How many daycare centers could one small town hold? Or was Charles looking for love in all the wrong places? Will remembered the rest of the Bennet family and felt a sudden jolt. He still hadn't touched the tea, but wished he had when he swallowed hard on air and began choking. Jane Bennet was not the only member of that particular family. He worked to erase the beginnings of a plan forming in his head. For a moment he had considered "doing Charles a favor" and going to find Elizabeth Bennet and asking her where her sister worked, but that could hardly be proper, especially for a man like him. His eyes strayed to the newspaper again, its black and white ink getting more smudged with each passing day. Soon she would be a blur. Perhaps that's what she should become to you, he chided to himself.

Interrupting his solitary thoughts, a family walked out onto the deck and a small boy went catapulting into the pool. A wave crashed onto the deck, chlorinated raindrops showering Will, his tea, and his precious picture.

"Sorry!" the little boy's mother called, but she hardly sounded as if she meant it.

Will looked down at his wet shirt, a bad feeling surging into his brain. Somehow he had the feeling this might be a reoccurring theme if he didn't watch out. He looked up again when he heard something like a stampede. A little girl had gotten on the diving board, and in seeming slow motion she flew into the air, tiny limbs tucked into a cannonball. A second tsunami hit, and Elizabeth Bennet's fine eyes and face were gone.

Shaking off some of the water, Will began to wonder where Caroline was. There was only so much he could take, and her company would be something to break the monotony...He suddenly jerked as if slapped awake. Did he just think what he thought he had just thunk? A gut-wrenching groan escaped his lips. He had to get out of town. And soon.

Elizabeth hadn't wanted William Darcy to be much in her thoughts these last few days, especially considering his rudeness at the assembly, but it could not be helped. Her father looked on as she toiled at her desk, magazines and files cascading onto the floor, only getting in her way when they crashed onto her keyboard or on top of her head. She had researched her heart out the past few days but to no avail. William Darcy's motives for opening a branch of Pemberley Publishing in Meryton remained as enigmatic as its owner.

He appeared in enough articles; that was for sure. Elizabeth held one up where his photo adorned a corner, the headline blazing Publishing's Young Blood. He was only twenty-three in that picture, but looked as brooding and unpleasant as he did now at twenty-eight.

One particular picture she had taped up next to her monitor. It was a photo layout titled Pemberley's Lord and Master: Single and Seeking a Mistress. She laughed every time she looked at it. It came from a self-serving, although highly-esteemed magazine in New York, and the contents of this issue consisted primarily of the city's "Most Eligible Bachelors."

"Most eligible with a net worth over the million dollar mark," she remarked to Charlotte who had come by to see how her work was progressing.

"It would be a great photo if he didn't look so annoyed," Charlotte lamented as she gave it a lingering look. Charlotte, who worked part-time for The Longbourn Gazette as a photographer polished her camera lovingly as Elizabeth tossed a number two pencil against the wall.

"I think that's his normal face," Elizabeth said wryly.

"You have to admit, he is handsome."

Elizabeth snorted. "Classically speaking, I might have to grudgingly concede, but I always find that a person's personality will considerably alter their attractiveness. I honestly don't think he knows how to smile." She flipped through a stack of papers, William Darcy's face flashing by in a flipbook of portraits.

Charlotte leaned over Elizabeth's shoulder and looked down at a picture of William Darcy again. She moved and sat on Elizabeth's desk, smiling mysteriously at her friend. "I don't know, Lizzy. I think I saw him smiling a great deal at you during the party a few nights back."

Elizabeth laughed loudly. A few people turned their heads to see what caused the commotion, but they soon grew bored and returned to their work. "No doubt he was relishing the praise that Caroline Bingley was heaping on him. I can hardly believe that woman is related to Charles Bingley. He's such a nice man. She's-well, you can fill in the blank."

"I'll refrain from it today, thanks. Hey, Lizzy, isn't your interview with Will Darcy this afternoon?"

Elizabeth looked up at the clock, her face breaking into a look of surprise. Her eyes darted down to the pad of notes where she had been scribbling down questions to ask during the interview. Unfortunately most of the page consisted of curly-cues, doodles of daisies, and little notes more or less saying, "If not for corn, I ne'er be born," in several variations.

"You're right, Charlotte! I can't believe I almost forgot." Elizabeth scolded herself. Even if it was Mr. Hoity-Toity William Darcy, she was a professional and should act likewise. Any lack of punctuality would reflect directly on her, if not on the paper, her family, Meryton, and probably all small Midwestern towns as she knew them if Will Darcy had anything to say about it. Quickly the papers found themselves in her bag, and hopping out of her chair Elizabeth snapped her hips, shoving the chair back into position with one fluid motion. She gave her friend a killer smile and dashed off.

Charlotte clapped and laughed. "Good luck, Lizzy!" she called, but Elizabeth was already fast out of the door by the time the words left Charlotte's mouth.

Elizabeth tore down the street, but she knew where she was heading and how to get there so it was of little concern of finding the destination. She just had to make it on time. In mid-stride she flipped her wrist over, her watch's face resting on her pulse point. It read 3:50. The interview had been set up for 4 PM. The Meryton Inn was in the downtown district and she was in striking distance of making good time if she just continued to hurry. Jogging leisurely up and down Main St. was not something unusual for Elizabeth, so the shopkeepers of the more upscale boutiques there paid her no heed. "Lizzy Bennet was just frolicking about wildly, again," they would undoubtedly say to each other when they closed up at six, but it was something always said with good humor, and they honestly liked to see that some of their young people were still lively these days. That at least some weren't just sitting around in their middle-class lives lamenting the plight of angst-ridden suburbia's youth-that or trying to work out how to start their own dot-com and make their first million before the age of twenty-one.

Elizabeth flew by some potted wildflowers of orange, purple, green, and pink in the early autumn hot and cold that began setting in this time of year, but found herself skidding to a halt soon after. One might have thought she was "stopping to smell the flowers," but something else had caught her eye. Across the street a familiar form was walking very closely with a young man. A familiar blonde with a familiar young man.

"Jane!" Elizabeth exhaled, half from surprise, the other half from trying to catch her breath. She squinted her eyes and peered across the mostly empty street. Detecting a rosy blush on her sister's cheeks, one that normally didn't touch Jane's cheeks unless it was really meant, Elizabeth started speaking to herself.

"With Charles Bingley, no less. What's going on, Jane, and why haven't I been told about this at all?" Her eyes stalked the couple as they disappeared into the ice cream shop on the corner with the checkered blue awning. Elizabeth, sorely tempted to follow her sister and Charles Bingley, repressed the impulse to go and tease them both shamelessly. She glanced at her watch, and with a start let out a slew of curses. She had barely two minutes to get down to the hotel, through they lobby, and into the pool area where he was waiting for her.

Clunky shoes and all, she tore down the street at a much faster speed, hoping she'd have the good fortune not to betray a cool demeanor by panting, sweating profusely, or anything else remotely embarrassing in front of such a proud and disdainful man who would no doubt find another reason to mock her if given the opportunity.

Will Darcy was waiting, and Elizabeth Bennet, armed and ready, was coming.

Will strode in the lobby one last time to check his appearance. Blue and white striped shirt. Check. Silver-blue, metallic looking tie. Check. Smart navy blue suit. Check. Anxiously, he checked to make sure he had no toilet paper attached to his shoe or any spinach in his teeth, never mind that he hadn't gone into any public restrooms or had any spinach today. He took in a last, long gaze at himself. Cool, yet casual. Friendly, but not overbearing or imposing. Those were his thoughts, and it calmed him to try and believe it. He tried to push back the nagging thought as to why he made such a big deal out of this interview. Thoughts like that would make him nervous-or defensive, and he wanted neither of that. He felt nervous enough as it was waiting for her to arrive and grill him. However that was one thing he was perfectly calm about. If anything, he knew his business, knew how to field questions regarding Pemberley. It was just everything else he was worried about. He checked his watch and with a start hurried back towards his poolside table where he needed to take deep, even breaths as he waited for Elizabeth Bennet's arrival.

His foot twitched, and Will could not control its frantic energy. It continued to twitch away while he scanned the area for her arrival. The Meryton Inn pool area was almost empty but for the small boy and girl from the previous few days and their parents. The mother lay on her belly, taking in the late rays of sun. The father was absorbed in an issue of Sports Illustrated. By the nervous glances he kept giving his wife, contrasted with the round-eyed look of equal shame and pleasure on his face, Will got the impression it was probably the swimsuit issue. The little boy and girl scurried around the deck, and for a time at least appeared to be calm and wading in the shallow end of the pool.

A chill breeze blew through, and Will pulled his coat a little tighter around himself. It was just the wind, he told himself. Not the neves. William Darcy, CEO of Pemberley Publishing, Inc. and Subsidiaries did not get nervous. Agitated, maybe, but not nervous. At least he hadn't ever before. Deep breaths, he thought.

Just when calm began to descend Zen-like upon him, he spotted a figure emerge from the hotel doors. It was obviously a woman. A woman with dark, curly hair, at least he thought so. The glare of the sun was bright in the sky, and it was difficult to be sure. And he was on the other side of the pool, so there was some distance in the way. Whoever she was, he saw her form exploded out of the doors as though she had just finished running and her legs were still carrying her with the momentum into a walk. He turned his head away, catching his breath. It was probably her. So look back, you idiot! With some effort Will turned back, but the sun was still there, and his eyes had to readjust to the glare again. As he began to refocus his hearing became keener. He heard little voices, little voices that became little shrieks which accompanied the fast sound of small feet. A loud splash followed and by instinct Will jumped out of his seat to avoid being victim to splashdown. Just then his eyes found adjustment, but when he looked the woman was gone.

Puzzled, he walked towards the doors. He stopped abruptly when he reached the shade of a tree. The two little children were peering into the deep end of the pool, little faces round with an emotion he couldn't identify. Was it fear? Surprise? Laughter? Were they hungry?

A shock of water flying out of the pool shook him from his thoughts. The children shrieked and ran off towards their parents. Cautiously, Will made his way to the edge of the pool where the commotion had originated. With small steps he found himself looking down into the deep end. What he saw there left him speechless. It took a moment, but he finally managed to croak out in a small voice,

"Ms. Bennet? Is that you?"

The sound of his voice startled her, but only for a moment. The surprised melted away, and her face tightened into one of cool resolve. She looked straight into his eyes.

"As you see me, Mr. Darcy."

Chapter 5

Posted on Monday, 13 August 2001

"Will you excuse me for a moment?"

Will Darcy, initially frozen in surprise, finally acquiesced with a confused nod. Elizabeth quickly turned in the pool and began swimming, poised as possible in such a situation, towards the ladder. The water was cool and so was the air temperature, but her face was burning. So much for first-well, second impressions, she thought sourly.

"GAAH! You naughty, naughty boy! And YOU!"

Elizabeth dragged herself out of the pool, clothes heavy with chlorine and probably some water too. The screaming voices approached her, but she didn't register the bullet train of sound assaulting her ears until it nearly crushed her in the middle of the tracks.

"Miss! Miss! Oh my gawd, I am SO SORRY!"

Elizabeth looked at her wet shirt. Her wet, cream colored shirt, and thought it no consolation that it was cream and not white. She crossed her arms over her chest quickly. Turning, she double-checked to see if William Darcy was still there. And he was, completely immobile and staring at her. Well, she thought, at least he has a reason this time.

"Oh, oh, Miss!" The one other woman poolside was immediately at her side. With her she pulled a little boy and little girl by their ears. They squirmed and whined, shrieking when their mother pulled on their ears, which she did only when they continued to squirm and whine. A vicious circle, if anything. The children looked up pleadingly at Elizabeth. She recognized them to be the small children who had run into her, startling her at once and knocking her into the pool.

"Please let me apologize for these little brats. They have no manners, but I can't say it's my fault. I blame their father. He spoils them all the time, and I can't do a thing about it. They won't listen to a thing I say anymore!"

"Mrs. ..."

"Mary Musgrove." The woman did not release her children to shake hands with Elizabeth or anything. She continued to pull.

"Mrs. Musgrove, it's all okay. It was an accident. They're just being children." Elizabeth grinned at the two twisting and withering children.

"But you're all wet! You'll catch a cold!"

"No one ever died of little trifling colds. Please," here Elizabeth smiled at Mrs. Musgrove and both her children, "don't worry yourself on my account. I'm okay. It's just a little water. No trouble, really. I can find a towel and dry off."

Elizabeth saw Mrs. Musgrove glance in the direction of William Darcy. "But, oh ... they must have ruined your date with that man. I'm so sorry. Your clothes ..."

"No. No date. It's a little complicated, but it's nothing. Really. Get back to your vacation and relax. You deserve the break."

Mrs. Musgrove looked pensive, but it only required a moment for her to brighten up. "Yes. I think you're right. I do deserve a break. I tell you, Miss, sometimes these children just wear on my nerves to their fraying ends." She shot her husband a venomous look. "No one knows what I suffer," she sniffed. "They don't know how ill I am treated, they really don't. I suffer in silence."

"Yes, indeed," Elizabeth said to herself as Mrs. Musgrove returned to her deck chair and released her children to cause further trouble. Elizabeth saw William Darcy looking at her confusedly, but she remained rooted in her spot a moment longer. There were more pressing issues at hand, and she was in search of resolution. Elizabeth soon found it, a white hotel towel crumpled on the concrete and hidden behind a potted plant. She darted over and scooped it up, expertly swinging it around her shoulders like a shawl. An involuntary shudder convulsed through her body when she felt that it too was wet. She just hoped it was from water and not something else less pleasant.

"Miss Bennet?"

Elizabeth whirled to face William Darcy, a look of genuine concern obvious on his face. His arms were still at his side, but Elizabeth had the strangest feeling that he was tempted, and possibly restraining himself from reaching out and touching her to ... what was it? To comfort her? That feeling was shaken off faster than Lydia brushing off the school nerds. Eventually he stuffed his hands into the pockets of his very posh, and very expensive jacket. Was he afraid of her? she couldn't help but wonder. A little thrill of almost-triumph surged up her spine, but as soon as it did she felt a little ashamed, but also a little something else-something she could not pinpoint or name.

Elizabeth returned from thoughts to reality and noticed he was still staring silently. She felt herself cross her arms even tighter around herself as he gaped, his eyes scanning up and down but finally settling back on her own eyes. She noticed that they glazed a little. Was he bored?

"Shall we begin the interview, Mr. Darcy?" she said crisply as though she hadn't just fallen into a pool.

"Uh, wouldn't you like to change into something else less ... damp?"

"It'll dry. Falling into a pool has never stopped me before."

The confusion finally turned into something else. William Darcy looked amused. "You do this often?"

Elizabeth smiled. "Generally I try to avoid it. But please, let's start the interview. I know how valuable your time is. I wouldn't want to keep you from anything important." She said this without a hint of meanness, without the slightest sarcasm. She only sounded teasing, and if she had only known how much this made Will Darcy's heart quicken she might have stopped, but of this she remained blissfully ignorant.

"But it's getting colder," he pressed. "And the sun is going to set soon. You really should find some dry clothing. I'm sure you would be much more conformable, and please, do not make yourself uncomfortable on my account. I have no pressing engagements, and even if I did I would postpone them."

"Really, Mr. Darcy ..."

His voice deepened a little and consequently softer. "Please, Miss Bennet, call me Will."

The sun was beginning to set, and Elizabeth tried to repress a shiver. She looked at William Darcy's face shrouded in shadow. She could not read it, but more for the reason that she did not want to know what he meant, rather than its being obscured in darkness. It seemed more likely to herself now that her discomfort stemmed from her proximity to him, not to be dripping wet and in what basically was a white shirt. But the water did bother her, and the towel did little to remedy the problem.

"Okay, Will," she said slowly, "if we should be on such familiar terms, then please call me Elizabeth. This mister and miss thing does sound a little archaic, I suppose." She gave a little laugh, but the laugh quickly turned into another shiver when a gust of early autumn wind blew in.

Before she realized it William Darcy had whipped off his very posh, very expensive jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders over towel, wet shirt and all. Elizabeth stood still in surprise. Then she felt rather than saw him retreat. Both avoided the other's eye with practiced awkwardness, that is, a practiced awkwardness that had become routine in their few minutes of acquaintance with each other.

"Uh, thank you." It came out sounding more like a question than a statement. Quickly Elizabeth began to recover her wits. "Thank you," she said with more resolve, "but I can't. I wouldn't want to ruin your coat." As she said this she realized that he must have closets and closets full of similar jackets. She felt even stronger remembering who he was, where he came from, and what, according to her own suspicions, he was doing in Meryton. "There's a shop across the street. Let me just run over there and buy something quick. I'll be right back." As she pulled off her coat she saw something like a blush explode on his cheeks. Realizing just how wet her shirt still was, she sprinted out of the pool area, across the street, and into a pricey downtown boutique, a list of obscenities so clouding her brain that she simply grabbed the first thing off the rack that looked like it actually fit and tore into the dressing room.

"Well," he said out loud to himself. "Well."

Will held his jacket in his left fist and stared into the space where just moments before Elizabeth Bennet had stood. He could still see her wet shoe prints although it looked mostly like a puddle at this point. He reached his own foot out and touched the puddle, pulling some of the water towards himself distractedly. Apparently everything that involved Elizabeth Bennet, including the pool water that touched her, distracted him.

Will looked up and around. The rambunctious family, children and all, had disappeared back into the hotel. He sighed in relief, glad for some privacy to collect his thoughts. However it only lasted a minute. A pool man came into the area dragging his cleaning equipment, snaking water hoses, strange suction contraptions, bottles of chemicals, and on and on.

Deciding that he would stop looking like the idiot that just fell off the turnip truck, standing there holding his jacket as though it would explode if he moved an inch, Will moved back to his table and watched the pool man switch on the outdoor lights. His tea was now long gone, but it hardly reigned as the most important thing on his mind.

With a flick of the switch the pool came alight in a shimmering aqua, and the potted garden that bordered the whole area suddenly looked lush and wild. Tiki torches blazed on with timed gas flames and danced merrily in the ever-encroaching darkness. More lights popped up. The next thing that caught his eyes were two stone statues with the air of something meant to look exotic. The place was looking tackier and tackier, and according to Bingley, the Meryton Inn was the best hotel within a thirty-mile radius. He wondered when the hula music was to kick in, but instead found himself pleasantly surprised when the pool man switched on a small stereo player on his cleaning cart. Something classical, a little familiar, but calming and spirited at the same time began to fill the quiet night. Just like Elizabeth Bennet, the thought assaulted his mind.

The thought and the appearance of movement from the hotel doors jerked him back to attention, the music quickly forgotten. He held his breath, but it only served to further unnerve him, and Will found that suspense or not it wasn't a good idea. Instead he found himself breathing short, little breaths. That also didn't help, but it seemed at least to be a better idea.

The figure came slowly, a figure dressed in something sheer and flowing like a fairy, princess, or goddess out of a romantic poem. Squinting in the darkness he thought it looked like her. He stood up and began to stride that way, steps quickening. A Tiki torch suddenly blazed to life and there she stood, her face illuminated by firelight. He stopped in mid-stride, his muscles feeling as though they had just all decided to go limp. If not for his own self-control he would've collapsed to the ground in a mass of infatuated goo. Elizabeth Bennet was a vision. Not like a fairy, princess, or goddess, but a vision of an elegant woman, a woman who declared her liveliness and enthusiasm for life with every step she took. If Will Darcy had not been taken with her before, well, he would be lying to himself.

She strode in with purpose, although slowly because the only shoes she could fit into and actually afford were high, strappy things that made it hard for her to walk, unaccustomed to heels as she was. She was draped in a knee-length, spaghetti strapped red dress decorated with tiny, shimmering black beads. It had a v-shaped neckline that drew attention to the slender curve of her throat, but Will Darcy, not exactly your fashion connoisseur, hardly noticed beyond the first look. He only saw her face and those eyes.

It all looked as though she were coming towards him in slow motion. Each step taken gingerly, all the scene needed were some large fans to blow her dark hair back and a fashion photographer. The idyllic scene soon broke as things tend to do in such situations. Everything happened so quickly that the action that followed could only be products of instinct. Propriety, logic, and pride be damned.

Elizabeth was within paces of Will when he saw her step falter. No small children were in sight but again she appeared to be magnetically drawn to the pool. Her left ankle gave out on her, and she fell backwards, her body twisting to the right and beginning its descent backwards into the pool once more. However fate, or the luck of having a young man with cat-like reflexes nearby, intervened. Will sprung forward and grabbed her left arm, promptly guiding her towards himself. Elizabeth spun into his embrace and soon found not only his arms wrapped tightly around her, but hers clutching tightly at his strong back. She stared at him wide-eyed. He looked similarly caught in the headlights.

Neither, for the time at least, let go.

Chapter 6

Posted on Tuesday, 28 August 2001

To anyone who passed at that moment, the sight of Elizabeth Bennet and William Darcy wrapped up in each other's arms would've appeared embarrassingly intimate, something meant for their eyes only. It would've likely been construed as the embrace of two lovers either meeting up again after a long, painful absence, or one of two people parting, not knowing if this was to be their last moment together. Either way, the air was infused with indefinable intensity and overwhelming emotion, as well as with tension-although of what type depending on which person.

For the immediate moment though Elizabeth remained immobile in surprise, barely aware of herself as she clung to him, her hands gripping his strong, warm back. If she could've acknowledged it to herself amongst the jumble of confusion swirling in her mind, the strange comfort she derived from his proximity would've not only deeply embarrassed her, but disturbed her. As to his feelings, she could hardly concentrate no less analyze them, but if Elizabeth had been in possession of herself at that time she would have been greatly astonished by how naked and raw his emotions were being bared on his handsome features, and particularly surprised that they in no way resembled the impression of his feelings towards her that he had given at the assembly.

The offending shoe that had caused Elizabeth to trip so ungracefully, before simply maimed, now died as it gave way one last time, the heel snapping off with a crack like a fresh green bean. It could not be helped-Elizabeth once again jerked backwards as balance gave way, but Will's arms still slung protectively around her waist caught her fall and she was pulled forward again. On the rebound, even though her eyes had slammed shut, she could feel that her face came very close to his. She could smell him; feel his breath against her cheek. Her lips slightly open, she pulled back somewhat and wet her dry mouth.

"My shoe," she offered lamely when she dared to open her eyes. When she did she saw his large-eyed stare. When she blinked, he did the same. Finally, as Will apparently realized that he still held her possessively and was making her rather uncomfortable, he let go and she slid, for once, she thought, gracefully out.

Elizabeth straightened as well as once can in broken heeled sandals and said formally as possible, "Thank you." Although her initial dislike of the man could not make her as civil as she normally would be, Elizabeth could not be unconscious to the fact that he had done her a service by preventing another dip into the pool. She hoped that she was not the type of person to let resentment overpower gratitude when it was truly deserved.

Will said nothing, but nodded slightly and averted his eyes. . Again, another pregnant pause filled the air. Elizabeth looked at him, and eventually he looked back at her.

"Shall we start the interview now? That is, as long as there are no more pool-related catastrophes planned for this evening?"

He gave a short answer yes and politely motioned for her to lead the way. Sighing Elizabeth limped ahead in her broken shoes. It was more than she could take after a few steps and stopping abruptly, she leaned down and removed them. Will, if he hadn't been following her cautiously, almost knocked her over in some horrible domino effect of hilarity and disaster.

Elizabeth popped up, shoes in hand and padded over to one of the more well-lit tables and waited for Will to catch up. He pulled out a chair for her and although startled by his archaic, although chivalrous behavior, she made good time in thanking him and sitting down. He pulled a chair out for himself, seating himself across the table from her, his arms folded over his chest. He seemed to lean as far as possible away from her, apparently wanting to sink into his chair. But being a cast-iron chair it was near impossible to sink into with a normal human body temperature.

This behavior only made Elizabeth more suspicious. William Darcy appeared defensive, and if possible more withdrawn than previous. She mused at this while pulling out her notes. Her notes which now resembled something of a inky yellow wood pulp. She sighed and shook the mess off her fingers and back into the bag. Well it's not like I had a whole lot written there, she thought.

"No notes?" he asked calmly, an eyebrow raised in a perfect arc over his brown eye.

"I thought you would prefer something less formal. I mean, this is only The Longbourn Gazette after all." She gave a small, wry smile.

"But you have no paper or tape recorder. How will you remember everything?" He seemed genuinely puzzled. The interviews he generally gave came along with the requisite equipment, notes, articles on his business, and often to his disdain, about his personal life.

Elizabeth tapped a forefinger to her temple. "Mind like a steel trap."

He seemed to smile, but Elizabeth was unsure. He might have been suppressing a grimace instead. She decided to move on, get it over with as soon as possible and remove herself from his presence. He had a strange way of unnerving her.

"Shall we start?"

He nodded, and they began.

To say he was slightly perturbed by having Elizabeth Bennet in his arms only a few minutes before, was the understatement of the year. Will neatly folded his hands in his lap. He had to hide the fact that he was trembling, although only slightly. She had a strange way of unnerving him, but he could not say whether or not he liked it or not.

"Will?"

His head jerked up. "I'm sorry." He reddened. "Could you please repeat the question?"

Elizabeth pursed her lips, tapping her pen against the table even though there was no paper for her to write on. "Do you find it difficult running Pemberley Publishing, especially at so young an age?"

"Ah. I see." He paused and relaxed slightly. "I don't actually think it's difficult running it. I've been doing it for the last five years, and before that my father was training me to take over eventually. I can hardly remember not having a hand in the business." He could not help but puff up a little in pride at this.

Then Will braced himself for the inevitable next question--why isn't your father running the business anymore-- but it never came. Apparently she had done her research and had possessed the tact not to try and force him to answer something that was intensely personal. However after preparing for that blow, he braced for the next, for the slew of questions about his personal life. At first when he had taken over the company the New York media had focused more on his being rich, handsome, and available, and not so much on his youth, his family tragedy, or the future of the business. Even as much as he trusted the Bingley's to deal in his publicity matters, their decisions were not always sound. A whirlwind of what he could only compare to being a teen heart-throb poster boy followed, and only stopped when Caroline had closed her iron grip on any publications that dared to say that William Darcy was available and marriageable, threatened legal action, scorn, and bodily harm at her capable hands. Whatever her motives-and he was painfully aware of them-it had worked and the relief at being left alone from that kind of scrutiny proved greater than any plans Caroline devised.

"Why Meryton?"

"Pardon?"

Elizabeth sighed in exasperation. "Really, Mr. Darcy..."

"Will."

"Really, Will. Focus. I know this gives you as little pleasure as it does me, and it will be good for both of us to be done as quickly and painlessly as possible."

He gaped, but said nothing.

"Why is a company large as Pemberley Publishing opening a branch in Meryton, Michigan of all places? Most would consider it an unwise business decision. Why not a larger city? The Midwest does actually have quite a few, contrary to what people on the coasts may think."

Will answered without hesitation. "I am aware of the larger cities, thank you, but the move was based on the hypothesis that a smaller city could benefit from having such a company in its confines. Not only would it provide jobs to the people of the city, it would bring more culture, sophistication to the place."

"You are all kindness, Will. But you must realize that not everyone in Meryton is equipped to work in the publishing industry, unless you mean for all of us to pour coffee for the big guns swooping in from New York to order us poor, corn fed Midwesterners, around."

Will's jaw clamped tight. She was downright impertinent! "I assure you that wasn't my intention." He calmed down a rising temper and raised his defensive shields. "This branch was, and is intended to foster less mainstream, but more quality fiction and non-fiction. The other offices will handle more of the so-called, 'commercial fiction,' and this branch will concentrate..."

"May I ask who will be running this branch, sir?" she interrupted.

Sir? He coughed nervously. What was she playing at? And why, even as it bothered him, it wasn't? "Richard Fitzwilliam. My cousin."

"Your cousin?" She smiled mysteriously and tapped her pen again, the clip on the cap clicking clicking clicking. She brought it to her mouth and chewed on the end thoughtfully. Will suppressed a groan at just how much that was making him more bothered--hot and bothered. "Interesting."

"How so?"

"Well, first your father grooms you to be his predecessor, which you have proved to be very competent at, but you not only hire your own friends to represent you-and I mean the Bingleys-but now you hire your own cousin to head a new branch of your company. Isn't that a just slightly unfair?"

"I don't see how," he remarked stiffly.

"Well wouldn't you agree that it shows a bit of favoritism? There are many other qualified persons out there who could well-handle such a job, but you promote your cousin to the position. Is nepotism a common practice at Pemberley?" she asked with playful innocence.

Will, finding something to grab onto now, calmed and leaned forward on the table. He smiled enigmatically. "Isn't that a little like the pot calling the kettle black?"

"Now what do you mean by that?" He forced himself not to become too interested in how her lovely eyes darkened in color when challenged.

"Well," he began slowly, "isn't your father the owner and editor of the Longbourn Gazette? And not are you only the head writer, but isn't your sister an occasional contributor, and isn't your friend, Charlotte Lucas, also employed by your father?"

Elizabeth sat quietly, then she too leaned forward on the table to look him directly in the eyes. "What we have at the Longbourn Gazette is different. We're a family business. A small, family business, and my father would not employ any of us if we didn't do our jobs well."

"The same can be said for Pemberley Publishing, then. We are also a family business. And please believe me, Elizabeth, when I say that I would not hire my cousin if he were not one of the most capable men. He's more than one proved his intelligence and shrewdness. I doubt Pemberley would be as successful if I didn't believe in hiring those whom I deemed talented, regardless of relationship. And as for the Bingleys, Charles became my friend after I hired him. There was no nepotism involved there."

They both gave each other wary smiles, but remained as they were, each giving the other a steady, penetrating gaze across the table. How long they might have remained there, staring each other down, would never be known, for only moments after Elizabeth and Will had each decided that they were at a stalemate, that for now at least they were on equal footing, an interruption came swooping in and trilling her welcome.

"Will, darling! What are you doing out here? I've been searching all over for you. Are you hiding from me again? Well, now that I've found you I insist, you must have dinner with me tonight."

Will looked up, annoyance clearly written on his face. Elizabeth suppressed a snicker.

"Caroline." A thought stuck him then as he stood up to greet her. "Where have you been, Caroline? I haven't seen you for days. You haven't been exploring the countryside...have you?"

The surprise and honest hurt on her face became clearly visible in the tiki torch lamp light. A look of confusion replaced it. She sputtered. "Why I..." She then saw Elizabeth staring at them both in obvious amusement and quickly turned her eyes back to Will. "Will, you silly man, don't you know? I've been in New York these last two days. Louisa, you know, my sister-she had some problems with her husband that only I could handle. You must have known. You had to have known I've been out of town..." She trailed off in defeat.

Will shook his head and spoke earnestly. "I honestly didn't know, Caroline."

Caroline's head jerked back and forth-first to Will's impassive face, then to Elizabeth Bennet's slight shakes of laughter. Caroline stiffened and brought up all the courage she could muster.

"Oh, you are such a joker, Will!" She laughed in a manner that could only be described as approaching that of a hysterical hyena and continued. "Always teasing me. Ha ha, well, you almost had me there." She leaned forward and touched his shoulder flirtatiously. "And for your little joke I insist that you come to dinner with me. No, no objections." She held up her bony hands before he could speak. "Even if you've already eaten, you have to at least sit with me."

"Caroline," he finally managed in broken exasperation. He jerked his head to indicate Elizabeth. "I'm sort of in the middle of an interview right now. Could we speak about this later?"

"Pish posh," she clicked. "It shouldn't be a problem to cut this interview short."

"Caroline," Will insisted. "This is business. You can wait."

Elizabeth let out a little laugh that could no longer be suppressed. She stood up to face them both. "Please don't bother. I think we're done here, Mr. Darcy. Thank you for your time." Elizabeth started off for the doors before Will could say another word. She threw a look over her shoulder at them. "Enjoy dinner." And she was gone. Will sighed resignedly.

"Good riddance," Caroline remarked as she forced Will's arm loose from his side and attached herself to it. "What a rude, woman. She hardly even acknowledged me, but again, what can you expect from country manners?"

Will made no comment about Caroline's lack of acknowledgment to Elizabeth, but stood fast, not letting her drag him away just yet. Instead, he gazed at the doors through which Elizabeth had disappeared. Something like wistfulness crossed his handsome features.

"Oh, poor Will. I know what you must be thinking now. You're thinking what an awful waste of time it is to have to spend time in this one cabbage town and having to give interviews to hack writers. And of how tiresome and dull it all is. I know how you feel."

"Actually, my thoughts were more pleasantly employed," he murmured more to himself than to her. "I was just thinking about how much pleasure can be derived from looking into the eyes of an honest, intelligent, and beautiful woman."

Caroline Bingley smirked in triumph. "And whose eyes, may I ask, are you speaking of?" She batted hers and nearly caused a tidal wave somewhere in Japan.

"Elizabeth Bennet."

Dumbstruck, Caroline forget herself and dropped Will's arm. She turned on him and narrowing her eyes and furrowing her eyebrows said, "How astonishing. But I suppose it must have been a trick of the light. Yes."

But it wasn't, and she knew it even as she dragged him into the hotel. But it would be a cold day in Aruba before she would ever admit it to herself.

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