The Perfect Year

Chapter 1 - The Perfect Year

Lizzy sat thoughtfully in front of the phone for a while after hanging up. It should have been simple. Her sister and brother-in-law, Jane and Charles Bingley, had decided to combine their housewarming party with the beginning of 2003 and naturally Lizzy had been invited. She'd promised Jane that she would attend but that was before Jane had dropped the bombshell. He would be there. Lizzy supposed that she shouldn't really be surprised; he was Charles' best friend, after all. But she hadn't known Dr William Darcy for five minutes before she realised that he was the last man she could ever get along with. He was arrogant and proud, one of Britain's bluebloods with the attitude to prove it.

Suddenly, the party had become a chore to be endured. She knew that Darcy would wind her up the wrong way; he always did, which was why she tried to avoid visiting the Bingleys when he was around. She didn't want to ruin Jane's party, which meant that she would have to make a concerted effort to get along with him. It was a recipe for disaster.

She surveyed her wardrobe and made a decision. If William Darcy was going to be at this party tonight then she was going to go all out. For once in his life, Darcy was not going to be the coolest cucumber in the room. Not if she had anything to do with it. Power dressing, she had learnt a long time ago, was an effective technique for improving one's outlook on a situation. It was the look good, feel good factor - if she dressed well then she would feel good about herself - it was as simple as that. With this in mind, she located her bag, grabbed her coat, and set off for Oxford Street.

Oxford Street was typically busy. The streets were packed with people looking for the after-Christmas bargains, people shopping before everywhere closed for the New Year. The sales were in full-swing, something that Lizzy had been counting on when she'd left her flat. She wanted something sexy, and although she wasn't surviving on a particularly tight budget, she wasn't exactly made of money either. Smiling slightly at the prospect of the sales racks, she headed for Debenhams.

The party was black tie; Charles and Jane had decided to go the whole hog with their entertainments, and as Jane said, what woman didn't enjoy the opportunity to dress up. Charles, unable to deny his wife anything, had complied with her wishes and Lizzy had intended to reuse one of the many ballgowns she had used in her Cambridge days. She smiled, remembering the May Balls she had been to and the fun that she had had. She had several dresses that would be suitable for the occasion, and if she was honest, there was no real justification for her buying a new one but she had been out of university for nearly two years now and she decided that there was nothing wrong with occasionally treating herself.

Debenhams was Mecca to all women looking for the perfect outfit to see the New Year in with. Everywhere she turned, Lizzy was surrounded by ladies, young and old, vying for the drastically marked down items. Thankfully, the evening wear department was not quite so busy; most people were looking for sparkly clothing, not for something chic and sophisticated.

She surveyed the racks dubiously. There were a wealth of colours and materials to choose from and she suddenly wondered whether she was doing the right thing. Generally she took somebody shopping with her in order to gain a second opinion, the result, she suspected, of years of pink silk and lace at the hands of her mother. Then she reminded herself that she was a successful professional, perfectly capable of making important decisions, and that dressing up was hardly as serious as the child abuse case she was currently working on. Thinking about that, she frowned slightly - it was particularly distressing - but firmly reminded herself that it was important to leave her work at the office as far as was possible. With this resolution in mind, she continued her perusal of the displays with renewed vigour.

She eventually took several dresses with her to the changing room. They were all considerably marked down and she was fairly sure that the colour and cut would suit her. Long experience of such situations had taught her that often such decisions were based on the fit of the selected clothing. In spite of being labelled as the same size they would almost certainly be slightly different in terms of fit when she tried them on. Thus, she stood in a queue the length of the shop and patiently waited for the opportunity to try her selections on in the privacy of a cubicle. Twenty minutes later, she had finally reached her goal.

Wriggling out of her dark jeans and woollen jumper, she selected a red cocktail dress. Pulling it over her head, she was particularly pleased with the effect its vibrant shade in contrast to the rich chestnut of her hair and ivory smoothness of her skin. She was not convinced by it, though; there was something missing from the ensemble. Sure, she looked good enough in it but she didn't feel particularly stunning. Sadly, she consigned it to the hangar and moved on to the next dress. This one was more promising, a gold organza evening dress. When she couldn't get it done up, she cursed her ample bust and gave it up for a bad job. That left only one dress. Crossing her fingers, for she had no desire to try any of the other department stores, she stepped into it. And on seeing her reflection in the mirror, she knew that this was the one. Unlike the other dresses, which had been quite showy in colour, it was a gorgeous shade of navy blue. Like the red, it flattered her colouring, but it also leant her an air of sophistication that she felt she would need to see her through the night. Especially when she realised that Charles' sister, Caroline, would also be attending. She had long known that Caroline did not approve of the Bennet family and had been absolutely horrified when her brother had married Jane. What made matters worse was Caroline's persistent belief that William Darcy was her personal property. When she had learnt that Elizabeth cared very little for him, she had become even more abrasive than she had been before, if that was possible. And to add insult to injury, Caroline insisted on calling her `Eliza'.

Having found the perfect dress - knocked down from £140 to £40 - she set off to hunt down the perfect pair of shoes. Although Debenhams had a perfectly acceptable footwear department, Lizzy decided to make the most of her location and took herself off to Dolcis, one of her favourite shoe shops. Shoes were Lizzy's biggest weakness; although she was fairly restrained in actually buying them, she was usually unable to tear herself away from the displays of brand new leather. On this particular occasion, though, she was aware that she was working to a deadline, as she had promised to arrive at the Bingley's townhouse early for pre-party drinks, she needed to be as fast as possible in this shopping trip. She wanted to have plenty of time to beautify herself before her arrival at the party. She particularly wanted to enjoy a long soak in the tub with lavender oil and scented candles to relax her. Heaven only knew, she would need it with both Darcy and Caroline to contend with!

Lizzy was feeling very pleased with herself when she arrived back at her flat. She had found the perfect dress, shoes and accessories for under £100…just. Of course, such a sum was a ridiculous splash out for one evening, but one of the benefits of being related to Mr `I have more money in my bank account than most people earn in their lifetime' Bingley was that such clothing came in particularly useful. She greeted her cat, Haydn, affectionately. She had always wanted to own a large dog but her career choice had meant that such a move was not viable. However, she had no real desire to live alone. Rather than share her personal space with a virtual stranger, she made the decision collect Haydn from the Cats Protection League. A smoky grey cat, he was her closest companion now that Jane was married.

She glanced at the phone to check that she didn't have any messages and when she saw the light flashing, she sighed and hit the play button.
“Elizabeth! It's Mum. What are you doing this evening? You're not staying in on your own, are you? New Year is a very good time to find yourself a young man and you're not getting any younger, you know! I had two children by the time I was your age, remember! I've got some friends that I think you might like; phone me back. Do you hear me, Miss Lizzy? I want to hear your voice this weekend. Just because you're not living at home anymore, I'm still your mother. Oh, I'd better go, you're father's just got back with the vol-au-vents for our party with the Lucases. You're welcome to come! Byeeee!”
Lizzy sighed as her mother's voice blared out of the answer machine. She grimaced even more when her mother mentioned setting her up. It was Deborah Bennet's aim in life to see all of her daughters successfully married and now that Jane had entered that happy state, Elizabeth was the primary recipient of her prodding.

After a light lunch and a cuddle session with Haydn, she felt considerably better. Thinking about Jane and Charles, she smiled. Her sister and brother-in-law were the classic fairytale couple. They had fallen in love at first sight, braved the disapproval of his family and the vulgarity of hers, and against all the odds they had married three months ago. Seeing them together lifted her spirits immeasurably, although she felt a pang of longing for a similar kind of relationship of her own.

Lizzy arrived at Jane and Charles' Chelsea home at 6 o'clock that evening, fully dressed for the entertainments and feeling ever so slightly self-conscious against the casually dressed inhabitants of her less wealthy neighbourhood. She thanked the cabbie and gave him the requisite fee before noticing the sleek silver Mercedes convertible sitting in front of the Bingleys' house. She knew of only one person who owned such a car and he was not someone that she was desperate to see. It was with a fixed smile, therefore, that she lifted her hand to the doorbell.

Jane came flying to let her in, a vision in white, blonde hair tied back with an elegant simplicity that was very becoming. She took Lizzy's coat and gloves and ushered her through to the kitchen where Charles and William Darcy were engaged in conversation.

“Lizzy!” Charles exclaimed when she appeared. “You look fantastic!”

“Thanks,” Lizzy replied. “You look pretty good, too!”

“Elizabeth,” Will Darcy greeted her coolly, although she felt a hint of pleasure noticing the way his eyes travelled over her body. She was all of a sudden grateful for the two-inch stiletto heels of her shoes, which helped her to walk tall and proud.

“William,” she returned his greeting. “How lovely to see you,” she added, doing her best to be polite, as she had promised Jane she would be.

“It's such a shame Georgie couldn't come,” Jane said, sympathetically.

“She was upset to be missing this,” Will admitted. “But she'd already agreed to spend New Year with our aunt and uncle when we received your invitation, so she had to refuse.”

“Well, I'm sure she'll have more fun there, anyway,” Charles noted. “She's not terribly fond of crowds, after all.”

“No,” Will agreed, his face tightening. “She's not.”

Lizzy settled herself on a stool at the breakfast bar and smiled as Jane handed her a glass of coke. “That is diet, right?” she reminded her sister.

“Of course,” Jane said, returning her smile. “I wouldn't forget, Lizzy!”

“I didn't think you would,” Lizzy admitted, “but it's better to be safe than sorry.”

“Are you on a diet?” Will asked, in a tone that suggested he thought diets were ridiculous.

“You could say that,” Lizzy replied, tersely.

“You shouldn't be,” he replied, in a tone that made her want to strangle him. “You're fine as you are.”

“Why thank you,” she said sarcastically. “I think so too. Sadly, though, I shall continue with my diet until my doctor sees fit to advise me otherwise.”

“Lizzy's diabetic,” Jane hastened to explain.

“Ah,” Will nodded. “I understand.”

“Good,” Lizzy said, hoping that the subject would close. No such luck.

“What type?” Darcy the doctor enquired.

“Type one,” she said, briefly. He nodded, and took a sip of his whiskey. Lizzy found herself admiring the set of his shoulders in the jacket of his suit, before swiftly recalling herself. She had never disputed that Mr Darcy was handsome - he was very good to look at, any fool would notice - but he was most definitely Not Her Type.

The party was in full swing, and Lizzy had to admit that she was enjoying herself. Happily, thus far she had managed to avoid William Darcy and Caroline Bingley had yet to arrive. Consequently, she was enjoying chatting to friends, both old and new, and sampling the expensive champagne that Charles and Jane had provided for the affair.

She had to admit that Jane had outdone herself decorating the rooms. In the living room, there was a Christmas Tree standing proud at six feet tall, elegantly decorated with a variety of ornaments, both old and new, white candles adorning the branches. They weren't lit, for which Lizzy was truly grateful - they would have been quite a serious fire hazard, she feared - but the whole room oozed festive cheer. There was a cosy fire roaring in the hearth and silver beads were strung around the picture rail. She had started the evening settled into a sofa in the living room but had soon migrated to the conservatory, which was decorated with the classic elegance that was so characteristic of her sister. White fairy lights provided lighting, with the occasional evergreen garlands for variety. And Lizzy could almost swear that there was Mistletoe somewhere in the wreath at the apex of the room. Everything suited her mood perfectly. The dining room had been turned into a dance floor but she was not in the mood for waltzing, preferring the pleasant chill of the conservatory and the contrast between the solitary sky and the crowds mingling in Jane and Charles' house.

She had been thankful to escape from Darcy's clinical mind when the guests had started to arrive. It wasn't that he was ill informed about her condition - quite the contrary - it was just that she preferred to make light of it as much as possible. And spending an hour discussing the ins and outs of every hypo and hyper she had ever had did not fit under the category of `ignoring the problem'. Oh, plenty of people had told her that pretending she didn't have a problem was a bad idea; that diabetes was a serious illness but she'd been dealing with it for long enough that she felt she was entitled to get on with life regardless.

“Eliza Bennet!” a snooty voice carried across the room. Elizabeth did her best to hide her grimace; there were people looking, after all. “How…wonderful to see you.”

“You too, Caroline,” she replied, cordially.

“Have you seen William?” the expensively dressed brunette demanded.

“No,” Lizzy replied, thinking that even if she had she wasn't going to tell Caroline so. Whatever she thought of William Darcy, nobody deserved the attention that Caroline deemed to be acceptable when flirting. “Not since the party started.”

“Oh,” Caroline looked bored. “Well, I'll just go and see if I can find Charles then.”

“Fine,” Lizzy replied. “He's dancing with Jane in the dining room,” she added, saying a silent prayer of repentance for sending Caroline in Jane's direction. The room, which had previously seemed comfortable, suddenly felt overwhelmingly claustrophobic. She found that Caroline's perfume had that effect on her. Hastily, she left the conservatory and made for the laundry room. Obviously, it was not being used for party purposes, so she expected that she would be alone, except for Snuffles, the Bingleys' Golden Retriever, who had been relegated there for the evening. She was therefore somewhat startled when she bumped into a tall and muscular specimen of manhood on her entrance.

“I'm sorry,” she spluttered, thankful that his hands steadied her, for he was quite twice her size, and she would have fallen over backwards without their influence. “I didn't expect anyone else to be here.”

“Evidently,” came the polished reply. Recognising William Darcy's distinctive baritone, Lizzy's first instinct was to flee. She turned around to suit action to thought but was stopped by his hands, which were still gripping her arms. “Presumably you came here for a reason,” he commented. “There's enough room for both of us.”

Caught in a trap of her own making, Lizzy realised that there was no way she could get away from him without appearing abominably rude. With a sigh, she closed the door behind her.

“Are you okay?” he asked, sounding concerned.

“Fine,” she replied. “I met Caroline,” she added.

“Ah,” he said and if she didn't know better, she would have sworn that she saw a hint of dimples around his mouth. “I understand.”

“She was looking for you,” Lizzy added. “I told her I hadn't seen you.”

“I'm safe, then,” he told her. “Are you comfortable like that?” he added, noting her posture, leaning against the washing machine.

“I've been in more comfortable positions,” she admitted. “I usually sit on the worktop,” she explained, “but in this dress…”

Before she knew what was happening, he had placed his hands on her waist and raised her to the work surface. To say she was surprised was an understatement; she had imagined that he wouldn't be impressed by her habit of sitting on kitchen appliances. Evidently she was wrong because as soon as she was settled comfortably, he joined her.

They sat in silence for a while and Lizzy began to feel uncomfortable. It was true, she had escaped the party for the sake of quiet but that quiet was supposed to be obtained in solitude. Sitting in silence with a man she couldn't stand was entirely different.

Before she could make an escape, though, Will spoke.

“You don't like me, do you?” he asked. She was surprised at the regret in his tone.

“You're not top on my list of dinner guests, no,” she admitted.

“Why?” he asked simply. For a second she was stumped; surely he knew why. If she didn't like him it was his own fault, after all.

“Do the words `Making money from other people's suffering' ring any bells for you?” she asked, her eyes flashing with remembered indignation. Will had the grace to look embarrassed.

“You weren't supposed to hear that,” he told her.

“What, so if I hadn't heard it, it would have been all right?” Lizzy was incredulous. “For your information, most of the cases I take on focus on child abuse. And most of those are legal aid. Yes, I get paid for helping people who are suffering. Everyone in the public sector does. You think the women who come to you for help with their pregnancy don't suffer? Think again, batman!”

“I'm sorry,” Will said and he sounded genuinely contrite.

“So you should be,” Lizzy replied self-righteously. “Who died and left you to judge us all?”

“I told you I was sorry,” he said, starting to sound peeved. Before she could offer a retort, though, he continued. “I didn't mean for you to hear what I said and I didn't really mean it myself. I know that lawyers do good work. A patient of mine was going through a messy divorce at the time. She was six months pregnant. Do you blame me for feeling bitter?”

“I'm not responsible for every divorce that happens, William,” Lizzy told him, not quite ready to give up this fight. “I don't waltz into a household and start throwing things at one spouse or the other. All I do is help people who need my help. It's not the solicitor's fault if a marriage breaks down.”

“I know that,” Will admitted. “And I admit I was out of order.”

“You do?” Lizzy looked at him sceptically.

“I do,” he said, smiling. He had really cute dimples, she decided.

“Good.”

“Am I forgiven?” he asked. He looked so much like a small child with his hand caught in the biscuit tin that she couldn't have maintained her dislike even if she wanted to.

“I suppose so,” she said, returning his grin.

“So will you dance with me?”

“Later,” she promised. “No doubt Caroline will want to claim the first waltz,” she added, mischievously.

“I think I'll stay here,” he groaned, comically.

“You don't like her, do you?” Lizzy asked, being as this was a time for confessions.

“I don't dislike her,” William protested. “I just don't like the way she's convinced that I'm going to marry her one day. The woman throws herself at me at every opportunity. And I don't like the way she treats Jane, either.”

“You and me both,” Lizzy admitted. “I couldn't care less that she treats me like dirt but Jane didn't deserve any of the grief that she and Louisa laid on when Jane and Charles got married.”

“They wanted him to marry a socialite,” Will told her.

“Jane's better than any socialite,” Lizzy said loyally.

“I quite agree. And even if I didn't, Charles loves Jane. As his friend, I have to accept that.”

“You have to say that,” Lizzy told him. “I'd beat you to a pulp if you didn't!”

“You and what army?” Will asked and it was a valid point. Compared to his 6'4” of toned musculature, Lizzy was nothing. Even with two inch heels on she only stood at 5'5”!

“Stilettos are surprisingly versatile,” Lizzy informed him, slipping a shoe off and brandishing it menacingly.

“I have no doubt,” Will agreed, watching her warily. “Are you ready to go back?”

“I suppose,” Lizzy said, reluctantly. She slipped from her perch, only to be affectionately sniffed by Snuffles. “If you get hair on my dress…” she warned the dog, “I won't be responsible for my actions.”

Will laughed and held the door open for her. “After you, my lady,” he said. Smiling, Lizzy dipped a mock curtsey and together they headed back to the party.

By the time they returned to the ballroom, it was already eleven, but it wasn't until ten to midnight that Will finally appeared again. In his absence, Lizzy had enjoyed various discussions but for some reason the thought of dancing with him filled her with a happy sort of anticipation. She had done so only once before, at Jane and Charles' wedding, back when she still thought he was the worst man in Great Britain, and even then she had admitted that it was a pleasant experience. She suspected that it could be all the more enjoyable if you were on speaking terms with the man you were dancing with.

“How are you doing, Lizzy?” Will asked, coming up behind her.

“I'm okay,” she smiled. “Getting ready for the champagne. Did Caroline track you down?”

“Yes,” he said, ruefully. “She didn't let me out of her sight for three quarters of an hour, until I insisted that I needed to spend a penny. And even then, I'm surprised she didn't come and wait for me outside the bathroom door.”

Lizzy laughed. “You poor thing,” she commiserated.

“Do you mind going outside of a bit?” Will asked, looking around the room nervously. “Only it won't be much longer before Caroline uses her radar to track me down.”

“Tut tut,” Lizzy said, smirking. “Avoiding Caroline again, William? A big strong man like you?”

“You avoid her too,” he pointed out. She merely looked at him, raising an eyebrow mockingly. She did, however, assent to his request.

The two of them moved across the room and Lizzy was tempted to dodge around people with a fake gun a la Mission Impossible. However, she felt that such behaviour was not becoming for the sister of the hostess and she wasn't sure quite how Will would react. Their discussion this evening had shown her that her previous judgement was not entirely correct but she didn't really know the man and for some reason, having secured his good favour she was loath to lose it.

They stood in Jane and Charles' back garden, which was lightly frosted with the night's chill. Lizzy began to regret not bringing a coat out with her but Will, true to his origins, offered her his jacket and was wrapping it around her shoulders before she could refuse.

“Won't you get cold?” she asked.

“No,” he promised. “I'm a big strong boy, after all,” he added, smiling again. It was ironic, she decided, that prior to this evening she had never seen William Darcy smile and now it looked like he was making a habit of it. Who was the real Will?

“Do you know what I hate about London?” Will asked, breaking into her thoughts. “I hate not being able to see the stars. There's always too much light for them to be properly appreciated.”

“I used to stargaze a lot in Cambridge,” Lizzy admitted. “It was calming, to be alone with the celestial bodies. It gave you a sense of perspective.”

Will nodded.

From inside the house, they could hear the guests begin to shout the countdown. Ten, nine…

“It looks like we'll be seeing the New Year in here, then,” Lizzy remarked. Four three..

“I guess so,” Will replied. There was an eruption of cheering. “Happy New Year, Elizabeth,” he said, and before she had the chance to reply, his lips were on hers. It wasn't a passionate kiss but it wasn't a greet Great-Aunt Maud kiss either. Lizzy looked at him bemused, unconsciously fingering her lips where his had been only moments before.

“Happy New Year,” she whispered.

“Would you like to dance?” Will asked her, softly. She nodded, unable to form a coherent sentence. Taking her arm, he steered her back into the house and towards the dining room. “I've been wanting to do this again for a while now,” he admitted.

“What, kiss me?” Lizzy asked, stupidly.

“I don't think I've ever done that before,” he said, arching an eyebrow. “I meant dancing, actually.” They reached the floor when the band was in the middle of a waltz and before she knew it, Will had whisked Lizzy into the swirling circle of dancers.

Lizzy didn't feel the need to speak as they were dancing; she was too busy enjoying the sensation of his arms around her. He was skilled at ballroom dancing. She supposed that she shouldn't be surprised; he had been born with a silver spoon in his mouth, after all, but she hadn't anticipated the proficiency he displayed. For the first time since dancing at university, she felt that her partner was fully in control and she had to admit, it was a sensation that she definitely appreciated.

“You're very good,” Will whispered in her ear.

“I learnt at Cambridge,” she admitted, as he whirled her around. “I'm a bit out of practice, though,” she admitted.

“You seem to be doing pretty well to me,” he told her.

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” she quipped.

“Good,” he replied as the song ended and everyone paused to clap. “I wanted to ask you something.”

“Shoot,” Lizzy invited.

“Come out with me,” he said. It was the last thing that she had expected to hear and for the second time in the course of an hour she stared at him, dumbfounded. “Please?” he added, with a vulnerability that was endearing.

“When?” she asked.

“Whenever you like,” he replied as the singer started crooning.

Bring out the old, bring in the new
A midnight wish to share with you
Your lips are warm, my head is light
Were we in love before tonight?

I don't need a crowded ballroom
Everything I want is here
If you're with me next year will be
The perfect year

They swayed to the music and Elizabeth was struck by the lyrics. If she hadn't been enjoying herself, she would have been looking for Jane to see if this was a set up. She had long known of her sister's desire to see her in a relationship and from things she had heard Charles say about Will, it appeared he wished the same for him. She was prepared to bet any money that they were behind the music now blaring out of the speakers.

No need to hear the music play
Your eyes say all there is to say
The stars can fade and they can shine
Long as your face is next to mine

I don't need a crowded ballroom
Everything I need is here
If you're with me next year will be
The perfect year

“Let me know the date and I'll arrange things,” Will broke into her thoughts again, continuing their previous conversation.

“Okay,” she said, as if she could have said anything else. “Why not?”

We don't need a crowded ballroom
Everything I need is here
If you're with me next year will be
The perfect year

It's New Years Eve and hopes are high
Dance one year in, kiss one goodbye
Another chance, another start
So many dreams to tease the heart

“Thank you,” he said softly and once again she was caught up in his dark brown eyes and suddenly they were alone on the dance floor and she had found her heaven in his arms.

We don't need a crowded ballroom
Everything we need is here
And face to face, we will embrace
The perfect year

We don't need a crowded ballroom
Everything we need is here
And face to face, we will embrace
The perfect year...

Chapter 2 - Magic Abroad in the Air

“You're happy today,” Kate Reynolds said to her employer. In reply, William simply smiled. “Had a good weekend, did you?”

“Wonderful,” he admitted.

“Are you going to elaborate?” she asked.

“Perhaps,” he replied. Had any other of his staff spoken to him in such a manner he may have been more forbidding, but Mrs Reynolds had been with the Darcy family since he was a little boy and after his mother's death she had taken her place. Consequently, she was allowed certain liberties that others were not.

“The Bingleys' party, was it?” Kate asked, knowingly. “Finally managed to get a smile out of Mrs Bingley's sister?”

“How…” Will stared at his housekeeper in surprise. He had never voiced any opinion on Elizabeth in her presence, so how on earth had she deduced that it was Elizabeth he had sought.

“I've known you for a long time, William,” Kate teased. “And I saw you at young Charles' wedding. Couldn't keep your eyes off of that young lady, though she didn't seem too impressed with you.”

“Yes, that,” William frowned. “It was a misunderstanding,” he explained. “We cleared that up in the laundry room.” Mrs Reynolds raised her eyebrows at him. “Oh, we were trying to escape Caroline,” he added, swiping one of the freshly baked biscuits from beneath her nose.

“William!” Kate said in shock, although she was clearly amused by the situation.

“Oh, come on Kate,” he complained. “Caroline was all over me when she did eventually find me. I'm just glad I'd promised to dance with Elizabeth earlier or she might have dragged me to the dance floor and you know she's got two left feet, in spite of her belief to the contrary!”

“So, what of Miss Bennet?” Kate asked curiously.

“We're going out,” Will announced.

“Where?” Kate asked. Will's face fell. He hadn't really thought much beyond getting Lizzy to accept a date.

“I have absolutely no idea,” he admitted.

“What does she like?”

“Jane says she's very musical; apparently she plays the cello,” he mused. “I suppose we could go to a concert.”

“Possibly. Or you could take her out for dinner and then a show,” Kate suggested. “Most people like that kind of thing.”

“That's true,” William agreed. “But there are so many shows to choose from,” he complained.

“You know, your sister would probably be able to help you out,” she suggested, but Will shook his head.

“I'm not asking Ana for date advice. Give her half the chance and she'll marry me off - she's always wanted a sister.”

“It has been a while since you brought anyone home, dear,” Kate pointed out gently.

“I know,” Will sighed, “which is why I want things to go well with Elizabeth. She's very different from all the other women I've met. Interesting to talk to. Not just after the prestige I can offer.”

“William, darling, from what I've seen of her, your prestige is the last thing on her mind. I don't know what you did to offend her but I suggest you treat her like a Queen. If she's anything like Mrs Bingley then she's a treasure worth holding on to.”

“Oh, you,” Will laughed. “You're as bad as Ana. I know you're just interested in grandchildren.”

“It would do my heart good to see you settled down, Will,” Kate said, seriously. “You've been alone for far too long.”

Will was thankful that he had been arranged to take the New Year as holiday, as it gave him the opportunity to spend some time searching for the perfect place to go on his date with Lizzy. Kate's suggestion of a show made a lot of sense and in spite of himself, he was very tempted to ask Ana for advice. His little sister was the expert when it came to Musical Theatre; she was an incredibly talented musician with a definite interest in that sector. However, she was still his little sister and if he could make a decision without her help then he would. Besides, he had seen plenty of shows himself - after all, he was the one who took Ana to see them - and he was pretty sure that there was something out there that would suit both Lizzy and himself.

In the end, he narrowed his choices down to two: Starlight Express or Les Misérables. He had seen the former in Ana's company and had thoroughly enjoyed it. On the other hand, Ana had seen Les Misérables with her school and had gushed about it for weeks. Consequently, he was stumped. In the end, he decided to ask Kate for her opinion. His housekeeper was a keen theatre goer and would no doubt offer valuable insight into what would make the night perfect for Lizzy.

“They're both good shows, Will,” she told him. “I expect Miss Bennet would enjoy either of them.”

“That doesn't really help me much,” Will pointed out.

“If I were you, I'd see the show you haven't seen before. Make it a first experience for both of you. Starlight Express is a wonderful show and if you think Miss Bennet would prefer that then by all means take her there, but Les Mis is such a touching story…”

“Hrmm,” Will pondered. “Do you think I'd be better taking her to see the Royal Philharmonic or something?”

“William…” Kate looked at him, her eyes twinkling in amusement. “I think that seeing a show is perfect. It's musical, so she'll enjoy that aspect, but it's also a play, so there'll be something to make her laugh or cry.”

“Okay,” William agreed. “Les Misérables it is. I just hope that's not an omen for what the evening will be like.”

“Don't be silly, William,” Kate chastised him. “You will have a wonderful time!”

When Kate left the room, Will stared at the phone. He couldn't get any further with his arrangements until he had spoken to Elizabeth. He had promised her that she could pick the date and he had a feeling that if he tried to get around that they would be back to square one. He didn't want her to go back to hating him, which meant that he would have to play his cards carefully. Elizabeth Bennet was like no other woman he had ever met. She was unimpressed by status, interested in people for who they were rather than what they offered. She also had an amazing body and eyes that made his heart skip a beat. He suspected that he could very easily fall in love with her, if he let himself. It was a sobering thought.

He studied the napkin she had scrawled her number on last night and smiled. In a distinctly feminine hand, she had written Elizabeth Bennet and her phone number. As if he could forget that it was hers! With a determined deliberation, he punched the numbers into the phone and listened as it rang once, twice, three times.

“Lizzy Bennet,” her voice came to him, sounding business like.

“Hi Lizzy, it's Will.”

“Oh, hi.” Her tone warmed considerably, something that gratified him enormously. “Sorry, I thought you might be my mother. How are you?”

“I'm fine. Just wondering if you'd had any thoughts about when you wanted to go on that date?”

“Oh… Um… To be honest, I haven't really been up that long. Let me just check my diary.”

“Okay.” He was slightly disappointed that she hadn't thought about him since last night but it was the early days yet.

“Will?” After five minutes and a little muffled cursing, she came back on the line. “Sorry about that. I'm free on Friday, or is that too soon?”

“No, that's fine,” he said, pleased that she was keen to see him after all.

“Are you sure? It's Wednesday today; that's not giving you very much notice.”

“It's fine, Elizabeth.”

“Sure?”

“Positive.”

“Okay then. I guess I'll see you then.”

“Yeah,” Will smiled. “I'll get back to you with the details, but I'll pick you up from your flat, so don't worry about transport.”

“Okay, thanks Will. See you soon, then.”

“Speak to you soon, Lizzy. Take care.”

“You too. Bye.”

“Bye!”

After putting the phone down, Will realised that he'd just agreed to taking Lizzy out in two days and he had no plans fixed up yet. With a worried expression, he once again turned on his laptop and thanked God for lastminute.com. Within half an hour, he had booked seats for Les Misérables and made reservations for dinner. Smiling, he settled back in his chair and took a swig of coffee. He then pulled a face; it was freezing cold. With a grimace, he stood up and went in search of Mrs Reynolds.

As far as Will was concerned, Friday couldn't roll around soon enough. His sister was staying with relatives, so he was alone in the townhouse with the exception of Kate. And because he was practically counting the minutes until his date with Elizabeth, the days dragged by. He lost count of how many made-for-TV movies he had sat through. Generally he avoided such things but he was desperate for any kind of distraction from clock watching. His only respite was his work at Guy's and St Thomas' Hospital, where he spent his days treating pregnant women and bringing babies into the world. But even that wasn't much of a distraction; as soon as he arrived home he started musing about Friday again. He wanted this date to be a success, wanted there to be more dates in the future. Elizabeth Bennet intrigued him.

Eventually, the appointed day arrived, and Will spent most of it ensuring that everything would be perfect for the evening. By four o'clock, Kate was chivvying him to stop fussing and get ready. Smiling at her with affection, he headed for the shower. He had selected his favourite suit, a dark grey affair which did the Saville Row tailors proud. Teaming it with a pale blue shirt and tie, he was just about satisfied with his reflection. It had been a long time since he had made such an effort for a woman and he was beginning to wonder if the fact that he was out of practice would count against him. With a resigned sigh, he straightened his tie one last time and raised his hand to flatten his unruly curls. They were the bane of his life, but no amount of barbering could prevent them from appearing tousled.

“You look lovely,” Kate announced when he emerged from his den. “Miss Bennet won't know what hit her.”

“Thanks, Kate,” he smiled. “Do you think I've got enough time to go to the florists?” he asked. “I'd like to get Elizabeth some flowers.”

”I think you'll be okay,” she told him.

“Well, wish me luck,” he said, kissing her cheek.

“You don't need it, dear,” Kate said dotingly. “You're wonderful and if Miss Bennet can't see that, then more fool her.”

“Thanks.” He smiled at her and then walked out of the front door, taking a deep breath as he did so. This was it. Make or break time. Climbing into his car, he headed for the nearest florist where he picked up a large bunch of carnations. Then, following Elizabeth's instructions, he headed for her flat in Lambeth.

It wasn't like the houses he was used to, he noted, as he pulled up outside, but then Elizabeth wasn't from the world that he was used to either. That was part of what attracted him to her. She was refreshing. Parking the car, he picked up the flowers and made his way up to her second floor apartment where he rang the bell nervously. A minute or two elapsed and he was beginning to contemplate ringing again when the door opened and Elizabeth appeared.

“Sorry,” she said, looking contrite. “I'm not quite ready.” He had worked that much out from the fact that she was attired in just a dressing gown but was too much a gentleman to say anything. “Make yourself comfortable,” she told him. “I won't be long.”

Will settled himself on the battered sofa and busied himself studying the literature settled in disarray on her coffee table. In amongst the Independent and Radio Times was a well-worn copy of Tolstoy's War and Peace and a slightly newer looking Shopaholic Abroad. He smiled, recognising the title as one that his little sister had put on her Christmas wish list.

“I'm so sorry about that,” Elizabeth apologised, startling him when she reappeared. She was wearing a red dress with a black chiffon overlay which emphasised her slender figure and ample curves. It suited her. He was amused to note that she was also wearing Winnie the Pooh socks.

“That's quite all right,” he said and then laughed when she settled down next to him holding a pair of four inch heels.

“I didn't want to be too much shorter than you,” she explained. “At the moment, you dwarf me.”

“True enough,” he agreed. “But you know, they say all good things come in little packages.”

“Does that make you a bad thing?” she asked impertinently.

“I hope not,” he said and offered her the flowers.

“Oh, you shouldn't have,” she exclaimed, examining them with a pleased expression. “Hold on a minute, I just need to put them in some water and then we can be off.”

“That's fine,” he told her, as she disappeared again. When she came back, she was clutching a full length black coat and produced a scarf and gloves from down one of the sleeves. It reminded him of his childhood when Kate had done exactly that with his outerwear. He took the coat from her and helped her into it, earning a smile of thanks that made his heart sing.

They didn't really talk much until they arrived at the restaurant. William had been focusing on navigating the traffic and Elizabeth seemed perfectly happy to simply admire the scenery. This, too, was a change from dates he had been on in the past when the woman he was with had demanded his full attention at all times. Then again, he supposed he shouldn't be surprised. Elizabeth had never struck him as the type of woman that needed constant reassurance.

Will had made reservations at the Ritz for dinner. Located in Picadilly, it was one of the most prestigious hotels in London. It was also very expensive but money was not an issue for Will. He did note the look of awe on Elizabeth's face as they pulled up, however.

“The Ritz?” she raised an eyebrow at him.

“It's a good restaurant,” he defended himself.

“It's an expensive restaurant,” she pointed out.

“Maybe,” he hedged. “You don't have to worry about that, though. This is my treat.”

“Look, Will,” she began in a tone that made him instantly wary. “I'm not used to being a kept woman. I know you've got money in the bank but if you want this to go further than this evening, then you have to accept that I like to go dutch.”

“Go dutch?” Will looked confused.

“Split the bill,” she explained with a smile. “Or take it in turns to handle the tab. Whichever suits you.”

“There's really no need-” he began but she cut him off before he could continue.

“Don't. I won't be happy unless we do this my way.”

“Fine,” he said, folding his arms over his chest. In some ways it was refreshing to have someone who wanted equality in the financial sense but it also irked him that the one woman (other than his sister) that he didn't mind treating was adamant that she should be allowed the same privilege.

“Don't look so put out,” she said, linking her arm with his. “It's not the end of the world, you know!”

He smiled at her, pacified, and together they strolled into the opulent restaurant with its gilt decorations and plush chairs. Elizabeth's eyes widened, making her look like a small child, and Will was suddenly grateful that he'd made the decision to share this with her. From the look on her face he assumed she'd never been there before.

“It's amazing, isn't it?” he said.

“It's beautiful,” she breathed. “I've never seen anything so lovely! It's like walking back in time.”

“I suspect the band has a lot to do with that,” Will suggested.

“Perhaps,” she agreed. “Thank you,” she added, smiling up at him. Her hazel eyes sparkled with delight and Will felt himself being sucked into their depths. Fortunately, the waiter appeared to seat them before she noticed anything was awry. With an efficient grace, he led them to their seats and offered them the menus.

They studied them in silence, Elizabeth biting her lip in concentration. It was an action that was oddly endearing. Will asked what she wanted to drink. She accepted his offer of wine, on the proviso that she didn't have to drink too much of it, and excused herself. Will was left alone to ponder the night thus far. True, they had not really done much, but he felt happy that things were going well. She didn't seem uncomfortable, at least.

“Sorry about that,” she said, with an apologetic smile. “What are you having?”

“I'll probably have the salmon to start, then the veal and then poached pear for dessert.”

“Sounds good,” she agreed. “I'm not really sure what to have,” she admitted. “There's so much to choose from. I quite like the idea of `Braised baby leeks with potato and truffle shavings laced with a foie gras vinaigrette',” she said, quoting the menu. “But…”

“It's very good,” Will assured her. “And don't look at the price,” he added, seeing her about to object. “View it as an apology for my comments when we met, if you like, but please don't spend the evening worrying about money. “

Elizabeth nodded reluctantly and returned to the menu. By the time the waiter arrived to take their order, she had decided on the braised leeks, noisettes of Edward VII lamb, and Upside down tart. William smiled at her choices. Most women would have gone for the chocolate. He was about to say as much, when he remembered that she was diabetic and thought the better of it.

“You've been awfully secretive about this evening,” she said to him when the waiter had left.

“It's supposed to be a surprise,” he told her.

“What if I don't like surprises?” she countered.

“You liked this one, didn't you?” he pointed out.

“You're so full of yourself,” she laughed. “Do you ever not get your way?”

“Occasionally,” he admitted. “Mostly, though, people do what I want.”

“That can't be good for your ego,” Elizabeth joked. “Too much bowing and scraping to your id!”

“I beg your pardon?”

“The dear doctor doesn't know about Freud?” Elizabeth looked incredulous. “Your id, Mr Darcy, is the untamed part of your sub-conscious. Freud suggests that we have an id, an ego and a super-ego. The id is based on the pleasure principle and somewhat wild; the ego is the part you present to the world; and your super ego is divided into your conscience and your ego ideal, which is what you compare the behaviour of your ego with. It's a bit confusing, really.”

“I don't want to know why you know this stuff,” Will commented.

“Crazy English teacher,” Elizabeth explained.

They chatted companionably until their food appeared. Will was pleased to notice that although Elizabeth did not neglect conversation when her meal was in front of her, neither did she pick at her food. He was even more pleased to see the delight that was evident in her face when she savoured her food. The Ritz was renowned for the standard of its cuisine and tonight was no exception. He was very aware that they were working to a strict timetable; the show was to start at 7:30, which gave them precious little time to savour their meal. Fortunately, their waiter was aware that many of the diners were there prior to an outing at the theatre and consequently the food was prepared in record time. As they ate, Will spoke to Elizabeth on a vast range of topics, from growing up in Hertfordshire as one of five girls to her life in the office and what it was like living alone so far away from the rest of her family. In his turn, he spoke to her with unusual candidness about life as an orphan and his relationship with Georgiana. She was very easy to talk to and he found himself telling her things that he'd voiced to no one. She never appeared to judge him and by the time their puddings arrived he knew that she was a very special young lady.

“I don't know how I'm going to manage this,” Elizabeth laughed, when her tart was placed in front of her. “I'm practically full to the brim!”

“I know!” Will agreed. “But you have to eat it,” he added. “It's the best part of the whole meal.”

“I never had you pegged as a big kid, William,” Lizzy laughed. “Quite the contrary.”

”You learn something new every day,” Will said, lightly. The band, which had been playing jazz standards all evening, began another song and Elizabeth smiled broadly.

“I love this song,” she announced before placing a forkful of fruit and sponge into her mouth. Will nodded and listened in fascination as a singer belted out an old classic.

That certain night, the night we met
There was magic abroad in the air
There were angels dining at the Ritz
And a nightingale sang in Berkeley Square

He noticed Lizzy swaying gently to the swing rhythm as they ate. In respect for the appreciation that she had voiced, he remained silent whilst the song played content to watch her in her enjoyment. It was as though she had completely forgotten about him. Her dessert had been deserted and she was sitting, chin cupped in her hands, dreamy expression in her eyes. In a moment of clarity, Will realised just what it was that he was missing from his life. He was jaded. Here was someone who took pleasure from simple things and who enjoyed life to the fullest.

I may be right, I may be wrong
But I'm perfectly willing to swear
That when you turned and smiled at me
A nightingale sang in Berkeley Square

When they left the restaurant, Elizabeth was still starry eyed, humming the song they had heard. She had a beautiful voice, Will noted. She had slipped her arm through his once more and was leaning into him unconsciously. He smiled and placed his arm around her waist protectively, amazed at how small it was.

The moon that lingered over London town
Poor puzzled moon, he wore a frown
How could he know we two were so in love
The whole darned world turned seemed upside down

He smiled as he listened to her. Oh how easily he could fall in love with this woman. She was the breath of fresh air he needed in his life. He hastily put the brakes on that particular thought, though. It was far too early to be thinking such things.

“We're going to see Les Misérables?” Elizabeth looked at him incredulously. “But how did you know?”

“Know what?” he asked, in bemused confusion. They had chosen to take the tube to Leicester Square; it was only a stop away on the Piccadilly Line, after all, and thankfully it was too late for there to be much in the way of the traffic hour rush. Nevertheless, seating was limited. There had only been one seat available and naturally William had offered it to Elizabeth.

“But you'll have to stand,” she'd protested.

“It's only one stop,” he had pointed out.

“If you're standing, I'll stand too,” she said, stubbornly. “Please, Will. You're practically as tall as the carriage. Sit down. I can perch on the rests or something.”

“I've got a better idea,” he said, grabbing her hand. “I'll sit on the chair and you can sit here,” he pulled her into his lap and she laughed. When she laughed, she threw her head back and did it properly. More to the point, her beautiful eyes sparkled with amusement, mesmerising him. She had to poke him when the automated voice announced that they were at Leicester Square. Smiling at her, he offered her his hand and together they exited the station.

The Palace Theatre was a huge affair. It had started out as an Opera House in 1891, but nowadays it was most definitely a theatre. Les Misérables had been playing there since 1985 and it was one of the best loved musicals of all time. Elizabeth had voiced her delight at Will's choice of entertainment so effusively that he'd been forced to explain that it had been Kate Reynolds' idea for them to attend. She did her best to keep her enthusiasm in check but it was clear that she was delighted with the way things were going and it did William's heart good to see this.

He had booked seats in the Dress Circle, where a good view was guaranteed, and he was pleased with this decision when the overture started. They had the perfect view of the stage and Elizabeth was riveted. She watched with rapt attention as they learnt of Jean Valjean's history, how he had spent 19 years in prison for stealing a loaf of bread. She held her breath when he stole from the Bishop and smiled when the Bishop gave him a lease of life. She sobbed at Fantine's death and laughed at the antics of the Thérnadiers. When the curtain fell for the interval, she turned shining eyes on Will.

”Thank you,” she said, clasping his hand with affection. “This is wonderful. I've never been to anything so moving!”

“My pleasure,” he said, feeling slightly embarrassed by her show of emotion. He excused himself to buy them some refreshments, returning with a diet coke for Elizabeth and a bottle of water for himself. Before they really had a chance to discuss what they had seen, though, the curtain rose once more and both were gripped by the second act. If Lizzy had cried over Fantine's death it was nothing to her grief when Eponine passed away, the victim of a French bullet when she made her way to the barricade. And if Will had been concerned by that, then when the curtain finally fell, after Jean Valjean's passing, he was truly concerned. Even Ana had never cried that much when they saw a show.

“Are you okay?” he asked. She nodded, still crying too hard to speak. He noticed how beautiful she looked, in spite of the tear stains on her cheeks.

“It was just…so beautiful,” she sniffled, rifling through her handbag in search of a tissue. “Thank you,” she added, slipping her hand in his as they left the theatre. This simple gesture made Will's heart soar. He had been very careful not to push her this evening, aware that only a week previously she had despised the ground that he walked on. That she had reviewed her opinions enough to treat him with such affection pleased him more than he could say.

Elizabeth was still crying when they reached the car, after another ride on the tube, and Will was beginning to wonder whether the musical had been such a good idea after all. However, she assured him that she had enjoyed it and that it had been a wonderful evening. And by the time they had been driving for five minutes, she had recovered fully, only the red around her eyes and nose betraying her tears.

“Do you want to come in for a coffee or something?” Lizzy asked when they arrived back at her flat.

“Coffee would be lovely,” he agreed, still worried about her earlier show of emotion. She led him through to the kitchen, as cosily cluttered as the living room had been, and gestured that he should seat himself on one of the stools while she busied herself with the kettle.

“Thank you,” Will said to her. She had thanked him many times for the evening but he had not had the opportunity to show his gratitude until now.

“What for?” Elizabeth looked genuinely bemused by his thanks.

“For your company,” he told her. “For agreeing to come with me. For making tonight special.”

“But I didn't do anything,” she complained, handing him a mug of coffee.

“You were yourself,” Will said, taking a sip of the beverage. “That was more than enough.”

“Thank you for your company too,” Elizabeth said, looking shy. “I don't think I've enjoyed myself so much in years!”

“So you wouldn't be averse to doing it again sometime?” Will asked, tentatively.

“I'd love to,” she said, grinning broadly, “but this time it's my treat,” she added.

“Yes, Ma'am,” Will said, saluting.

When Will finally left Lizzy's it was the early hours of Saturday morning. Before he left her, he bent down and placed a gentle kiss on her lips and was pleased to feel her response. He didn't push though; it was fairly chaste, nothing to write home about. Elizabeth was worth more than a quick fling and he wanted to make her feel as special as she clearly was. She had squeezed his hand, touched his cheek lovingly, and bid him goodnight with starry eyes. He loved her eyes; they were truly windows into her soul.

Sitting in the car, he recalled the song that she had been enraptured by in the Ritz and wondered if it was prophetic. He certainly hoped so.

The streets of town were paved with stars
It was such a romantic affair
And as we kissed and said goodnight
A nightingale sang
A nightingale sang
I know `cause I was there
That night in Berkeley Square

Elizabeth had promised to phone him in the morning. As he pulled up to the townhouse, for the first time since his father had died, he looked forward to tomorrow with joyful anticipation.

Chapter 3 - Why Does It Always Rain On Me

Costa Coffee wasn't Lizzy's favourite place in the world, but when Will had suggested meeting up after work for a chat she had been unable to refuse him. She consoled herself with the thought that it wasn't Starbucks. She had never truly understood the ski lodge effect that chain had gone for; at least Costa maintained a minimalist chic look at its many outlets. She sat alone at a table, feeling self-conscious. Will had yet to arrive, presumably because he had further to travel than she did. She wondered if she should order before he got there. Surely that would be rude, though? She smoothed her suit skirt anxiously, and began to curse herself for agreeing to this. She could have been at home by now, cuddled up with Haydn and a good book.

“Lizzy!” The object of her thoughts jerked her out of them. “I'm so sorry I'm late. The tube was a nightmare.” So the tube ride on Friday hadn't just been for her benefit, then.

“Hi, Will!” she greeted him, standing up. Her instinct was to kiss his cheek, but she realised that even if she stood on the tips of her toes she was never going to manage it. Even though she was wearing high heels he was still nearly a foot taller than her. She offered him a smile instead. Will seemed to prefer her initial idea, though, because he bent down and greeted her with a kiss.

“How are you today, Miss Bennet?” he asked formally.

“I've had better days,” Lizzy admitted. In truth, her day had been awful; it had started with a court appearance in which she had been obliged to attempt a mediation with a father who had chosen to represent himself and finished with a story of child abuse that made her wonder what the point was, especially considering the various divorce cases she was also working on, where one partner or the other was only interested in how much compensation they could get from their soon-to-be-ex-spouse. “How are you doing, Will?”

“Pretty well, actually,” he smiled. “Lots of babies. Must be the Christmas spirit or something; there always seems to be an increase in new patients at this time of year.”

“Ah, sex is a good way of keeping warm,” Lizzy said, a trifle flippantly. “What's the betting that the poor kids will be part of a single parent family in ten years time?”

Lizzy supposed she deserved the frown that Will levelled at her. Right now, though, the contrast between their jobs was too much for her to bear. He spent his life bringing people the hope of a new life. She spent hers trying to salvage what was left of their old lives. His work brought joy, hers was inevitably fraught with pain. Maybe she should have stuck with translating after all.

“Are you okay?” Will asked her. “Honestly okay, I mean, not just `let's shut Will up' okay.”

“Like I say, I've had better days,” she sighed, feeling dejected suddenly. This wasn't what she'd anticipated from meeting him again. “It doesn't matter.”

“It matters to me,” he said gently. “If you want to talk, I'll listen.”

“I dunno. There was a new case today, absolutely appalling stuff some of it, and I spent the morning in court watching parents fight over their children and insult each other. Sometimes I just wonder what the point is. I could run off to Spain or Italy and earn my living as a translator, or a teacher, or do something useful. Instead I spend my time listening to tales of woe when nine times out of ten it's a case of six of one and half dozen of the other.”

“I'm sorry,” Will said. He genuinely sounded sorry too, but it wasn't his fault. “How long have you been practising?” he asked.

“Two years,” Lizzy admitted. “I got my degree 2000 and then I did a conversion course. I started up with the practise in August 2001.” Even she could hear the note of resignation in her voice. Way to make him think you have job satisfaction, Lizzy, she thought.

“Do you ever wish you'd done something different?”

“Sometimes,” she admitted. “I've got a degree in foreign language that I hardly ever use. I wanted to travel, work in Europe, maybe in South America as well. Instead, I let my mother talk me into the law. Mind you, that makes it sound like if it wasn't for her I wouldn't have done it. That's not true either; I was thinking about it and she basically said that it would be better than traipsing around the world. And my dad… I didn't want to leave him. He was ill a couple of years ago; had to have bypass surgery. He's fine now, but… That's what made me go for Law, I guess. Mostly I don't regret it. Just occasionally, though, you have days when you wonder why you bother.”

Will nodded. Lizzy was pleased to note that they had reached the front of the queue; she wasn't sure that she was ready to bare her soul to him just yet. She ordered an iced tea and they made their way to the table companionably, the conversation turning to more neutral subjects. They passed an enjoyable hour discussing their favourite Shakespearean plays, before Lizzy reluctantly admitted that she needed to head home before it got too late The tube was reasonably safe but she saw no reason to chance things and she didn't particularly want to waste money on a taxi.

“What are you doing at the weekend?” Will wanted to know. She was gathering her things together, but she turned to him regretfully.

“I promised my mother that I'd go and visit her and Dad. The brats will be back at uni and I think she's beginning to feel a bit lost without anybody to instruct. I drew the short straw.”

“Oh,” Will looked crestfallen. “Well… have a good time.”

“Don't worry,” she said, teasing him, “I'd probably enjoy myself far more with you. But duty calls. I haven't seen them since Christmas and Dad will no doubt need someone to save his sanity.”

“Oh, fucking great!” Lizzy exclaimed in frustration as her car gasped it's last. “Just what I needed!” It was eight o'clock on a Friday night and she was on her way to her parents' home in Hertfordshire. Her car, heretofore old but reliable, had decided that it didn't fancy spending another half hour in the freezing cold and although the engine was spluttering, it was not turning over. With a harrumph, Lizzy clambered out of the car to prop the bonnet open in an effort to see what was wrong. Sighing, she conceded that she was no mechanic and reached for her mobile, thanking god for the AA. In spite of its unfortunate choice of acronym, the Automobile Association promised to be there as soon as they could and Lizzy was confronted with the knowledge that she faced at least half an hour of waiting in the cold. “I should have got the train,” she sighed, easing herself back into the car. Not wanting to run the battery flat, she couldn't even turn the radio on.

She dialled her parents' number, and was greeted by her mother's strident tones.

“Debbie Bennet.”

“Hi Mum, it's me.”

“Elizabeth! What are you doing? You should have been here an hour ago!”

“Mother, I'm not that late,” she complained. “I'm just phoning to let you know that the car's broken down. I'm waiting for the AA now.”

“Lizzy! I've told you before that your old banger is only good for the scrap heap, but do you ever listen to me? No! I'm only your mother!”

“Yes, I know,” Lizzy sighed. “But it was fine before today.”

“It's not fine now, though, is it young lady?”

“Well, the AA will soon fix me up, I'm sure. I just thought I'd let you know that I'm going to be a bit late. I'll get back to you when I know what's going on.”

“Well, make the most of the opportunity to meet a nice young man,” Debbie Bennet told her daughter. “They don't grow on trees, you know.”

“I know, Mum,” Lizzy said, in a resigned tone. “I'll see you soon, okay?”

“Fine. Remember, Lizzy… Use your charms; goodness only knows you've got enough of them. Your father's side of the family always were a bit buxom.”

“Bye, Mum.” Lizzy hung up the phone and sighed. A weekend of her mother's raving. How would she cope? No doubt Will had something much better in mind than slouching about in the freezing cold waiting for the rescue services.

She wondered where that thought had come from and when Will had become so integral to her life. True, he had been phoning her every day or so to catch up and if he didn't phone then she was guaranteed a text message, but that didn't make him part of her world. He was anything but! She couldn't imagine what his reaction would be to continued exposure to her mother but she suspected it wouldn't be pleasant. She was jerked out of her thoughts by the ringing of her mobile. Caller ID flashed up Will Mob indicating that Will was phoning her. For the second time that week, he had caught her thinking about him. Smiling, she answered.

“Lizzy Bennet.”

“Why do you do that?” Will's amused voice came down the line. “You know it's me. You could just say `hello' like most people.”

“Hello to you, too,” she retorted.

“Hello,” she could hear him smiling. “Have you made it to your parents' yet?”

“No,” she said testily. “I'm stuck in the middle of nowhere with a clapped out car waiting for the AA.”

“Oh.”
“Oh, indeed,” she mimicked.
“Sorry,” he told her. “I just thought I'd phone to see how you were doing. Evidently you're not doing too well.”

“No shit, Sherlock.”
“Do you always swear when you're upset?”
“Only when some bugger at the other end of the phone asks stupid questions,” she retorted.

“It's just me, then?” he sounded like he was about to laugh and that just made Lizzy even madder.

“Do you see any other fuckwits in the vicinity?” she demanded.
“I'm not in your vicinity, Lizzy,” Will said, suddenly sounding more serious. “Are you all right?”

“No,” she told him frankly. “My engine has gone bananas, so I'm stuck without any heat or entertainment.”

“Do you want me to turn the radio on?”
“I'd rather you spoke to me,” she admitted, wishing that she wasn't so obvious. When he next spoke she could practically hear the grin in his voice. In fairness to Will, though, he did keep her very well distracted from her discomfort until the AA man turned up and fixed her engine. She supposed she would be flattered if he voiced a desire to hear her voice. Stupid egotistical bastard. Stupid egotistical bastard with an adorable voice. Stop it, Lizzy, she told herself. You're not supposed to be thinking nice things about him. You're annoyed with life and the world. But in spite of herself, she smiled.

When Lizzy finally arrived at her parents' house, Longbourn, it was ten o'clock. She was tired and hungry, and in no mood for her mother's effusive greeting, spattered as it was with references to her non-existent - or so Debbie Bennet thought - love life. It took all of Lizzy's will power to keep from mentioning Will to her. She knew if Debbie found out that Lizzy had a love interest then she wouldn't rest until Will had been brought up for inspection in Hertfordshire, and once he had been proclaimed acceptable, no doubt Debbie would start to arrange the wedding and never mind that he hadn't even proposed!

She finally made it to her childhood bedroom, thankful for the opportunity to have some time to herself. She loved both her parents dearly but whilst time spent with her father was true quality time, she found dealing with her mother was often difficult. Deborah Bennet believed that women were put on earth to be wives and mothers, and nothing her daughter said would change her opinion on that. Lizzy found this infuriating, not least because she had spent a fair amount of time climbing to the top, first at Cambridge and now as a solicitor. That her mother saw her job as a way of finding a husband merely rubbed salt into the wound.

In spite of her misgivings Lizzy slept well. Friday had been a long day, especially with the unplanned stop while her car was fixed. She didn't stir until her mother opened her curtains at 9 o'clock the next morning. She winced as the bright winter sun hit her face and wondered what she had done to deserve such torture. Her mother was soon forthcoming with the answer.

“Good morning, Lizzy! Breakfast is ready and then you must start thinking about what to wear! You're going on a date this evening, and you need to look your best!”

“A date?” Lizzy looked at her mother incredulously. No, please no! Please don't let her have set me up with another of her friends' sons.

“Yes, a date. With Bill Collins; you know, Vera's son.”

“With Bill Collins?”

“Are you deaf?! Yes, with Bill Collins; he's Vera - you know Vera, she used to make cardigans for you when you were small - he's her son.”

“Oh.”

“Is that all you're going to say, Elizabeth?” her mother sounded hurt. Lizzy could think of several things to say but none of them would have pleased Debbie, so she opted to hold her tongue. Not that her mother would have listened, anyway, for she was already off on a rant. “You're twenty-two years old, Lizzy. No spring chicken. It's time you started to think about getting married and making me a grandmother. The clock's ticking!” Lizzy wondered whether her mother had been reading Bridget Jones. “Bill is a lovely boy; he's got good prospects too. He's a vicar, you know. Very respectable.” A vicar? Somehow Lizzy couldn't see herself getting on too well as the wife of a vicar. Especially not Reverend Bill Collins, whom she remembered from childhood as a snivelling, snotty sort of boy. What was her mother thinking?

She never found out what her mother's motivation had been; after breakfast she managed to escape to the cosy environment of her father's study. Robert Bennet had long ago learnt to take refuge from his wife's enthusiasm in his own sanctuary and Elizabeth had always been a welcome guest. More so than any of her sisters, she enjoyed a close relationship with him. Debbie often said that she was his favourite, and she supposed that in many respects it was true. What was beyond refute was that she was her father's daughter.

“I hear your mother's found you a companion,” he said when they were sitting companionably drinking tea.

“I do wish you'd try and stop her,” Lizzy replied, pulling a face. “She won't listen to me; God knows, I've tried!”

“Elizabeth, my dear, when your mother gets an idea into her head, the Devil and all of his minions would not be able to stop her from carrying it through.”

“Well, could you orchestrate it so her ideas don't involve me and the sons of her friends?” Lizzy pleaded. “I'd be eternally grateful. Do you know, I found her looking through my bag to find something suitable to wear! No doubt she'll decide we need to go shopping.”

“Humour her, Lizzy,” her father replied. “She misses you all now that you've left. Lord knows, I'm not much company for her.”

“Aren't you glad to have some romance back in your life?” Lizzy teased. Her parents were mismatched in practically every way; her father was an intellectual, her mother probably wouldn't know what Pythagoras' theorem was if it hit her in the face. Her father was serious with a biting wit, her mother was frivolous. In spite of their differences, though, they had a healthy marriage which had produced five daughters in eight years.

“Your mother announced that she is too old for romance,” her father declared with a wicked glint in his eye. “Apparently I should be saving up for your wedding,” he added.

“No chance,” Lizzy retorted.

“What, no young man in your life? Well, if they haven't noticed what a gem my Lizzy is then they don't deserve you!”

“Well…” Lizzy wouldn't mention Will to her mother, but her father was different. He had been her confidante for as long as she could remember. “There is someone…”

“Oh…” her father raised an eyebrow.

“He's Charles' friend, Will. We've been out a couple of times - nothing serious…”

“But you like him?”

“Yeah. Funny, isn't it, how life works out.”

“Didn't you hate him a month ago?” Rob Bennet had a good memory and Lizzy's comments on her brother-in-law's best man hadn't been exactly discreet.

“We resolved our differences,” Lizzy said primly.

“Well, you be careful, Lizbet,” her father said, using the nickname from her childhood. Jane had been unable to say `Elizabeth' when Lizzy was born, and her name for her sister had stuck, at least until Lizzy was old enough to insist that her name was Lizzy. Her father was one of the privileged few allowed to use the nickname.

“I will be, Dad,” she promised. “Anyway, Mum's married me off to Bill Collins now!”

True to Lizzy's prediction, her mother had insisted that they go shopping to find an appropriate outfit for Lizzy's date. Vain were her protests; Debbie Bennet was in battle mode and woe betide anyone who crossed her. With a resigned sigh, Lizzy had realised that her credit card was going to get a workout that afternoon.

Indeed it had, and as she surveyed the results in the mirror she had to admit that her mother had good taste. Against her better judgement, she had bought a three-quarter-length red skirt with a black chiffon overlay and a deep red shirt to match. Her mother hadn't thought to ask where Bill was taking her, and so she had been obliged to shop for a `smart-casual' look. This outfit was dressy enough that she would be acceptable wherever Bill took her. The problem with blind dates set up by your mother, she decided, was that no one really knew the dress code.

She was appalled that she was actually making an effort for this date. It wasn't Bill Collins' fault that her mother had arranged it, though, and it wouldn't be fair to make the evening an irritation for him. Even so, she couldn't help thinking how much more she had looked forward to her date with Will just over a week ago. Sighing, she surveyed her reflection in the mirror and admitted satisfaction. As her mother was fond of telling her, she would never be as pretty as Jane but she would do well enough and that was what she wanted for this evening.

As she took hold of the door knob to leave the room, the doorbell rang. Bill was right on time, it seemed. Sighing, she squared her shoulders and prepared to face the evening with a graciousness she didn't really feel. She could hear her mother fluttering around her date before she even reached the staircase and as she descended she wished for the ground to open up and swallow her. Could she be more obvious? she wondered.

“Ah, here she is!” Debbie squealed. “Lizzy, this is Bill! Bill, Lizzy's been looking forward to this all day, haven't you, sweetheart!”

“Oh, yes! Couldn't wait!” Lizzy agreed, with a touch of sarcasm that caused her mother to glare at her. Bill Collins was nothing like Will. He was short; barely taller than Elizabeth and that wasn't a particularly great achievement as far as she was concerned. His hair looked like he'd rolled in the gel pot and his eyes had a rather worryingly lecherous gleam in them. She couldn't help but notice how his eyes seem fixated on her cleavage and she began to wish that she'd done up another button of her shirt.

“Pleased to meet you,” Bill said, offering his hand. She took it and to her surprise, rather than shaking it, he gave her a slobbery kiss. She fought the urge to shudder with repulsion. “Our chariot awaits, my lady,” he announced, causing Lizzy's mother to laugh shrilly and Lizzy to wonder what she had done to deserve this torture.

Bill turned the radio on; apparently he needed to focus on his driving and couldn't cope with conversing at the same time. The Stereophonics came blaring through the speakers.

Sunny days
Where have you gone?
I get the strangest feeling you belong

Why does it always rain on me?
Is it because I lied when I was seventeen?
Why does it always rain on me?
Even when the sun is shining
I can't avoid the lightening

Lizzy had to laugh at the irony of the situation. The song was all too appropriate; she hadn't been in Bill's company for five minutes before she knew that he was most definitely not the man for her. She was glad that her skirt was long; judging by his affection for her breasts she could only suppose that a flash of leg would send him delirious with delight. She wasn't sure quite how he'd qualified as a priest and she didn't want to know. But as far as she knew lust was prohibited by the Church of England and what she saw in Collins' eyes was most definitely lust. It made her feel quite sick.

Things progressed as they had begun. Eventually Bill parked the car outside a pub-cum-restaurant. Lizzy wasn't a snob, but this was so different from the way Will had swept her off of her feet, wining and dining her in the grandest possible fashion. And unlike Will, Bill was not interesting company. His favourite topic of conversation, other than himself, was Lady Catherine de Bourgh, the senior member of his parish who had ensured that he had gained his position. Lizzy didn't know what kind of drugs the woman was on but she quickly decided that no one in their right mind would appoint Reverend Collins as a parish priest unless they were insane. Either that or the woman was an egomaniac and Collins fed her vanity. Either way, she could think of better ways to be spending a Saturday evening.

“And then Lady Catherine said that the children simply had to put on a nativity, and that she would oversee things. She's such a wonderful woman, always ready to help out. Why, she was almost solely responsible for equipping the church hall with a stage and theatre lighting! Such foresight! We rent it out to dramatic societies now!”

“It sounds wonderful,” Lizzy said dutifully, trying not to grimace as he continued to talk, his mouth full of food.

“And she leads the WI as well, you know. I don't know where St Michael's would be without Lady Catherine; she runs it almost single-handedly! There aren't many church wardens like her!”

“You must be very lucky, then,” Lizzy said, sensing that she was expected to compliment the woman. She was fast coming to hate Catherine de Bourgh and everything that she stood for.

“The Church is on her land, you know, but she's always very accommodating about letting us do things. Her benevolence is quite humbling…” Lizzy wondered if Collins had been reading some nineteenth century conduct book - such language was not exactly commonplace in twenty-first century Britain. And she wished he wouldn't talk with his mouth full. It was putting her off of her dinner, dinner that she had to eat in order to maintain her sugar levels. She grinned suddenly and wondered how Collins would react if he found the syringe in her handbag. She had no desire to tell him about her diabetes. He would probably think it was contagious.

It was with a great sense of relief that she waved to Bill as he drove away from her parents' house. Collins, it seemed, was the pushy type and hadn't been content to finish their date before he had stuck his tongue down her throat. Feeling slightly nauseated by the garlic and chocolate combination on his breath, Lizzy would have been all too pleased to fall into bed and forget about the whole embarrassing experience. Sadly, her mother had waited up for her so such a course of action was impossible. Instead she had to sit through a maternal dissection of her date followed by recriminations for not arranging another outing.

“Mum, I am not going out with him again, okay!” she had finally reached the end of her tether when her mother had tutted and announced that she would phone Vera and arrange for her to meet with Bill again. Over my dead body, she thought.

“Well, there's no need to be so ungrateful!” her mother replied, sounding hurt. “I worry about you, Miss Lizzy. You're not getting any younger and, you know, men like their women to be fresh. You're pretty now but who knows what will happen in five years. No one's interested in marrying a bluestocking with saggy breasts!”

“Mother!” Lizzy was mortified. What had the world come to when her mother was discussing the state of her bosom with her!

“It's true,” Debbie continued self-righteously. “Why can't you take a leaf out of your sister's book? Look at Jane, all settled down with Charles! He's got lots of friends; surely you can find someone who's interested in you!”

“Mum, Jane is twenty-five, and has been married for three months. If I take a leaf out her book I've got another three years before I even have to think about marriage. Anyway,” she added, “I'm not sure I want to get married. Maybe I'll live in sin.” She didn't really mean that, she was as keen on the idea of a big white dress as any other woman, but she was in no mood to humour her mother.

“Elizabeth! Don't be so ridiculous! Don't even think such things! What would my friends say?”

“Quite frankly, mother, I don't give a damn,” Lizzy announced. “I'm not interested in Vera, Sally or any other of your friends. I'm interested in me and what will make me happy. And so should you be. Good night.” Ignoring her mother's protests, she walked out of the room and to bed, seething inside. What had possessed her to come home? It was the same every time, yet every time she put herself through this. It was ridiculous.

“Was it really that bad?” Jane asked, placing a cup of coffee in front of her sister.

“Worse,” Lizzy said, putting a hand to her forehead dramatically. “Seriously, Jay, I was worried that I might strangle Mum before the weekend was out!”

The two of them were sitting in the Bingleys' kitchen on Monday evening dissecting Lizzy's weekend. Jane had laughed at Lizzy's description of her date with Bill and insisted that it couldn't have been that bad, but Lizzy was adamant that it couldn't get much worse than it was. The vision of Collins eating steak still haunted her.

“You know Mum only wants what's best for you, don't you?” Jane said.

“I know,” Lizzy sighed. “Why do you think I didn't strangle her?” She smiled ironically. “I don't know, Jay, I really don't. I know she wants me to get married and be a housewife and do that kind of thing, but right now I'm enjoying my independence. I don't want to be worrying about flowers and venues just yet. And I don't want to go for any man because of what he can offer me. It's love or nothing! Mum seems to be living about two hundred years behind the rest of us. I don't need a man to get on in the world anymore!”

“I know,” Jane soothed her. “I think Mum worries,” she added. “You remember Auntie Janey, surely?” Lizzy nodded. “She was your classic old maid,” Jane reminisced of their Great-Aunt, smiling. “I've heard Dad say you're just like her,” she added. “But the point is Auntie Janey lived out her old age on her own. Mum doesn't want that for us.”

“But Auntie Janey was happy,” Lizzy pointed out. “She had us and she had her friends. She didn't have time for men!”

“I know,” Jane agreed. “But Mum wants for us to have the same companionship in life that she and Dad have. I know you sometimes wonder what induced them to marry but they love each other. She wants that for you. It's not that bad being married, you know!”

“I know,” Lizzy admitted. “But the more Mum pushes for it, the more I wonder whether it's worth all the hassle. Especially nowadays when you don't have to marry to get legal protection. Who really needs a piece of paper?”

“It's symbolic, getting married,” Jane told her. “I'm glad Charles and I did. I like being Mrs Bingley.”

“I've gathered,” Lizzy said, dryly. “I don't want to be Mrs though. I like being Elizabeth Bennet.”

“You don't have to take on your husband's name,” Jane pointed out.

“True,” Lizzy mused. “But people expect you to and most people do. Mum would go mad if I continued to be Ms Bennet after getting married.” She laughed. “Another thing for her to harangue me about!”

“Oh, Lizzy!” Jane chuckled. “You make her sound like an ogre! But enough of Mum; tell me about you and William!”

“I knew you were in on that!” Lizzy exclaimed. “Perfect Year, indeed!”

“Wishful thinking, then?” Jane asked, sounding disappointed.

“Premature,” Lizzy corrected her and Jane smiled broadly. “Will is lovely. Certainly much better than Bill Collins. I enjoy spending time with him. But I don't want to rush into anything. I don't want to get hurt. It would make things difficult, especially as he's Charles' best friend.”

“Oh, but I'd like him as a brother,” Jane said. “He's a real sweetheart. You should see him with Georgiana. He's adorable!”

“Georgiana?” Lizzy looked confused.

“His sister,” Jane explained. “He's told you about her, surely!”

“Oh, Ana!” Lizzy put two and two together belatedly. “Yeah, if you listen to him she's the best thing since sliced bread.”

“She's lovely,” Jane insisted. “Will doesn't exaggerate that much. Ana's a bit shy, but she's got a wicked sense of humour once you get to know her. You'd love her.”

“Funny, Will said the same thing,” Lizzy mused.

“He's talking about introducing you to Ana?”

“Yeah,” Lizzy said.

“He must like you, then!” Jane exclaimed. “He hardly introduces any of his girlfriends to Ana!”

“I'm seeing him, Jay, I'm not his girlfriend.”

“Give it time,” her sister predicted infuriatingly. “I guarantee you'll be hopelessly in love within the next six months. And it couldn't happen to anyone more deserving.”

When Lizzy returned home that evening, she pondered Jane's words. Sitting, staring unseeingly at the blank television screen, Haydn in her lap, she wondered whether there was a grain of truth in what her sister had said. She didn't love William, that much she knew with certainty. She enjoyed his company, true, and would be pleased to get to know him better, but nobody fell in love in a fortnight, especially with someone that she had hated only a month ago. Tread carefully, Lizzy, she told herself. Will Darcy is a force to be reckoned with. He had told her himself that he was used to getting his own way and she had a feeling that if she wasn't careful he would be calling the shots with her too.

Chapter 4 - Learning You Were Wrong

Before Lizzy knew what had happened, January had rolled into February, and love was in the air…well, love was in the air everywhere except at her Legal practise. People were still getting divorced, families were still waging custody battles, and Lizzy was still fed up. Away from work, though, her relationship with Will was progressing. They had been on several dates since her disastrous weekend with her parents, some formal, some not. What had become apparent was that Will was the kind of guy that Lizzy had always dreamed of meeting and had decided didn't exist.

It had become a habit for Will and Lizzy to spend Friday nights together and the Friday before Valentine's Day was no different. Lizzy had volunteered to cook dinner in spite of Will's loudly voiced fears of food poisoning. Thus it was that Will stood leaning against the worktop in Lizzy's kitchen whilst she stirred a cheese sauce.

“If you want to be useful, you could grate some more cheese,” she told him, brushing a lock of hair out of her eyes with her wrist.

“More cheese?” Will looked at her incredulously. “You've already used about half a pound of the stuff!”

“It tastes better if it's cheesy,” Lizzy said defensively, whilst peering into another pan, full of quorn mince and tomato sauce.

“There isn't even any meat in it!” Will complained.

“Oh, stop complaining!” she said, swatting him with her tea towel. “I promise you'll like it.”

“If I don't die of food poisoning,” Will retorted for the sixth time that day.

“For the last time, William, you are not going to die of food poisoning. I have been cooking for myself for years and I have yet to be hospitalised because of poor food preparation!”

“But you've been hospitalised for other things?” Will was quick to pick up on what was unsaid.

“I'm a little accident prone,” Lizzy admitted. “I'm much better now though,” she said brightly, hoping to avoid an interrogation.

“That's good to know,” Will said sarcastically, although she was pleased to note that he was grating the cheese as requested.

“Ah, stop fussing! You're like an old woman!” Lizzy smirked at Will and then went back to her saucepans thus missing the grimace he sent in her direction.

Half an hour later, the two of them were sitting at Lizzy's table enjoying their food. Will was forced to concede that Lizzy could indeed cook and Lizzy was crowing victoriously in between mouthfuls of garlic bread.

“What are you doing next weekend?” Will asked when there was a lull in conversation.

“Probably sitting at home feeling sorry for myself and watching films of failed love affairs,” Lizzy told him frankly. “I hate Valentine's Day.”

“Oh.” Will looked crestfallen.

“Why did you ask?” Lizzy's curiosity was peaked.

“I was going to see if you wanted to spend the weekend at Pemberley with me,” he admitted. “But if you don't like Valentine's Day…”

“Oh.” Lizzy was at a loss as to what to say to that. “Well, you know, I haven't actually had a Valentine for the last ten years,” she admitted. “That probably has a lot to do with my hatred of the day.”

Will looked at her blankly.

“If you're asking me to spend the weekend with you then I'd be happy to come,” Lizzy said, swallowing her pride. He had looked very perturbed by her comment, after all.

“Well…don't feel you have to,” Will said, sounding doubtful.

”I want to,” Lizzy insisted. “I wish I hadn't said anything now!” She could feel her skin flushing. If she'd realised he was proposing a romantic mini-break a la Bridget Jones then she would never have been so flippant. Me and my big mouth!

“I'm sorry,” Will smiled at her bashfully. “I'll collect you from here at half six, then? We should be able to get to Derbyshire on Friday, if we're lucky.”

“Long car journey…fun,” Lizzy said sarcastically. “That's fine, Will. I'll be ready and waiting.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive. It will be great to get away for a bit, and with good company too!” she winked at him.

“Flattery, Miss Bennet, will get you everywhere,” he smiled.

Valentine's Day dawned fairly sunny, if cold, and Lizzy was feeling surprisingly chirpy at the end of the day. For once there had been very few difficult cases to deal with and she had faced the minimum of inter-family abuse. That was always a cause for a celebration. She took the tube home and conversed happily with Haydn whilst waiting for William. Jane had promised to look in on the cat over the weekend but Haydn didn't like the idea of being left on his own; he sat in Lizzy's bag with a determination that was unusual for him. Lizzy, whilst gratified by his affection, was running on a tight schedule so she dumped him unceremoniously on the floor. He didn't appear to like that and went off to sulk in the corner.

“What to wear, what to wear,” Lizzy muttered, surveying the contents of her wardrobe. It may have been sunny during the day but there was still a bitter chill in the air. In the end she settled for comfy casuals, on the grounds that they would be spending a significant amount of time travelling. Thrusting her feet into a battered pair of trainers, she hoped Will wouldn't be offended by her lack of glamour. It was too late to change anyhow, for just as she had finished tying up the laces the doorbell rang.

“Hiya!” she greeted Will with a kiss. “Come in, I'm just about ready, I think.”

“Lizzy…” Will looked nervous.

”Will…” she mimicked.

“You might want to change into something a bit less…casual.”

“Why? We're only going to be in a car.”

“Well, that's the thing. I was thinking; it is Valentine's Day and I'm sure you'd rather be wined and dined than spend hours on the motorway. So I thought that I'd take you out for dinner this evening and we could stay at the townhouse and then leave for Derbyshire early tomorrow morning.”

“You thought that, did you?” Lizzy asked, a hint of steel in her voice. In fact she was delighted that he had been so thoughtful but she didn't want him to think that he could walk all over her. “You could have phoned me, you know.”

“It was a spur of the moment thing,” Will informed her.

“Well, you'll have to wait while I get ready now,” she announced grandly. “You can't wine and dine me in my oldest pair of jeans, that's for sure!”

Laughing, she left the living room for the comfort of her bedroom and once again stood in front of her wardrobe. She was running low on fancy stuff, she noted. In truth, her wardrobe consisted mostly of business suits and shirts and jeans and t-shirts. However, she found a little black dress at the back of the cupboard and decided that it would do as well as anything else. She just hoped she had some tights which were free from ladders and snags.

When she reappeared, she looked completely different. Gone was the denim and trainers, replaced by a knee length dress with a deep v-neck, and the same shoes she had worn to Jane and Charles' New Year's do. She had let her hair free from the ponytail that had previously been binding it, allowing her curls free reign to flirt around her shoulders. A hint of make-up had finished the look to her satisfaction. If Will's reaction was anything to go by, he was pretty impressed too.

“Do you have everything?” he asked, gesturing towards her holdall.

“I think so,” she replied. “I put my casual clothes in there. Are there any more surprises to be aware of?”

“No,” Will smiled. “You look lovely,” he told her sincerely. “I'm impressed,” he added. “You were only gone for twenty minutes!”

“Shame on you,” she replied laughing. “It doesn't take that long to put a dress on!”

Will helped her into her coat, a full length black one with detachable faux-fur collar. She wasn't terribly enamoured by the collar initially but when it was cold she was always glad of the extra warmth it offered. The hardy warmth of her outerwear offered a sharp contrast to the sexy yet skimpy dress she wore underneath it.

They drove to a little Italian restaurant where Will insisted that she make the most of the day. Grinning at him, she surveyed the menu and sighed. Something told her that gorging wasn't an option in her current couture - any extra pounds would show quite clearly through the clingy material.

“If you'll excuse me, I have to go and stab myself,” she announced to Will, who nodded sympathetically. With a sigh, she took herself to the ladies loos, where she wasted no time in checking her blood glucose levels before administering the necessary insulin into her thigh. She supposed that wearing a skimpy dress had some benefits; not only did Will seem very appreciative, but it saved her from having to undress, although she had been known to just put the needle through her jeans before now.

“Okay?” Will asked when she returned to the table.

“Sorry about that,” Lizzy replied apologetically.

“Don't worry about it,” Will brushed away her apology. “What do you fancy?”

“Pasta?” Lizzy winked at him, resisting the urge to say `you'. He was looking particularly irresistible this evening; he was wearing a suit without the tie, and the top button of his shirt was consequently undone, lending him a sort of refined casualness.

“Sounds like a good idea,” he agreed, leaning back in his seat and surveying her critically. Lizzy could feel a blush rising to her cheeks. He was the only person who could induce such a reaction from her and she hated that he had that power. Deciding to turn the tables, she openly checked out his attire, only to be caught in her deliberations by the waiter. Faltering slightly, she ordered spaghetti bolognaise while Will opted for carbonara.

“I'm always a bit worried that carbonara will be burnt,” Lizzy admitted once the waiter had left them.

“What, because of the `carbon'? I suppose that makes sense, even if it is totally false,” Will smiled at her.

“You've never tasted my little sister's cooking, clearly,” Lizzy replied. “Poor Marie; she tries so hard but the kitchen just isn't her forte.”

“That surprises me,” Will told her. She looked at him quizzically. “Both you and Jane are very good cooks,” he explained. “Even if I do complain about food poisoning,” he added as she raised her eyebrow sceptically.

“So you admit that you're wrong?”

“I didn't say that!”

“You so did!” Lizzy crowed. “Hah, Will Darcy likes my cooking!”

“It's not that exciting!” he complained.

“You haven't been on the receiving end of your comments or you wouldn't say that,” she retorted good-naturedly.

“Sorry,” he said, soundly slightly remorseful. “I was only joking.”

“I know,” she admitted. “If I hadn't known I would have sent you home hungry ages ago!”

Lizzy was surprised when she glanced at her watch and noticed that it was gone eleven. Will, noticing her gesture, did likewise and reluctantly admitted that it was probably time for them to go. Nodding, she gathered her coat and bag while he called for the bill which he insisted on paying. Together they made their way to his car, she with her arm through his. Before he turned the engine on, he laid a gentle kiss on her lips.

“Thank you,” he said, simply.

“You too,” she replied, wondering if his kisses reduced everyone to incoherent messes or whether it was just her.

They made the drive to his house in virtual silence; not the oppressive kind of silence that needs breaking but the companionable type of silence that speaks of true understanding. Lizzy was secretly rather pleased by this turn of events, thus far he had managed to avoid taking her to his house. It made more sense for him to come to hers, as he was happier driving in the city than she was, especially given the late hours that they kept in each other's company. Nevertheless, Lizzy was keen to see his native turf and wondered what it would show her of his character.

It was gone midnight when he led her into the house and she knew straight away that she was in the presence of a wealthy man. She had known, intellectually at any rate, that Will was not poor but nothing had prepared her for the shock of walking into a house that looked like it came straight out of the pages of a magazine. She might have been put off by it were it not for the black and white blur that hurtled past her to jump up at Will and cover him with affectionate kisses.

“Will, there's a dog glued to your chest,” she noted, stating the obvious.

”I had noticed,” he replied, dryly. “Lizzy, meet Venus. Venus, this is Lizzy. Be nice to her.” Lizzy knelt down to pet the Border Collie, pleased that William was a dog person. “We keep collies at Pemberley,” Will explained, “for the sheep. Venus was Ana's favourite, though and I didn't have the heart to tell her she couldn't keep her, so she travels around with us. Mostly with me, actually, as Ana's at school a lot of the time. Venus will be coming up to Pemberley with us, if that's okay with you?”

“Fine by me,” Lizzy agreed, through a yawn. Her eyes widened in embarrassment. “I'm so sorry!”

“Boring you, am I?” Will asked, smirking. Lizzy shook her head vehemently. “Never mind, Lizzy; I shouldn't keep you up. We're going to have to leave fairly early tomorrow after all if we want to make it to Pemberley in good time. Kate has this weekend off as well; she's off somewhere nice with Robert, her husband, I think, so we'll have to fend for ourselves at breakfast. I'll just show you to the guest room and then you can get a decent sleep.”

He duly did so and after a brief goodnight kiss he left Lizzy to her own devices. She was pleased that he hadn't assumed anything, although she couldn't help wondering whether that meant he didn't find her desirable. Then again, she had a feeling that if Will asked something of her she would be unable to refuse and as she was not yet ready to commit to him physically she had to feel relief at his gentlemanly actions.

Sliding into the luxurious bed, she wondered what his house was like. She knew from earlier discussions that Pemberley proper was now let to the National Trust and therefore open to the public. The Darcys, when they were not in London, lived in the old farmhouse. The farm was maintained by two of Will's staff when he was not present, although he had a very active finger in the pie at all times, it seemed. Who knew what tomorrow would bring?

Tomorrow, in fact, brought a long car journey. Will's Mercedes was mercifully very comfortable. Nevertheless, Lizzy had never been one for travelling long distances, especially as a traveller. They left London at half past eight in the morning; far too early in Lizzy's opinion, but Will had been adamant that there would be no point in going to Pemberley if they didn't get there for lunch. In the end she had allowed him to talk her into getting up and they were now ensconced in the car.

“Tell me about Pemberley,” Lizzy said as they turned on to the M1. It was still too early for there to be a considerable amount of traffic, for which she was thankful. There was nothing worse than being stuck in a traffic jam on the motorway.

“What do you want to know?” William asked, keeping his eyes focused on the road.

“Anything. Everything. Whatever you can tell me!”

“Okay,” he agreed, glancing at her. “The first record of a house at Pemberley dates back to the Doomsday book. The D'Arcys came over from France with William the Conqueror in 1066, and Pemberley's land was a gift from him in recognition of the family's service to him. Obviously, the house was improved upon as the centuries passed, but the Norman original building was central to any design. Then, when Civil War broke out in 1642, we became a bit of a target for the Roundheads. The Darcys were staunch Royalists and during the war Pemberley was shelled - you can still see some of the ruins now. Anyway, during the Interregnum, the family fled to France where they stayed until the Restoration. Pemberley was rebuilt using a lot of the original stone and has been pretty much the same ever since, save a few modernisation efforts.”

“How do you know all this?” Lizzy asked. “I don't even know the names of my great-grandparents.”

“I had a cousin who was interested in genealogy,” Will explained. “She wrote her findings down and I read what she had to say. Plus the National Trust found out a fair bit when we let them have the house. It's still Darcy property, but people can visit it and look around. We have no need of a great big mansion like that anymore, especially as we're hardly in Derbyshire anymore thanks to my job and Ana's schooling.”

”So you live in the farmhouse?”

“Right,” Will nodded his head. “We moved there in the 80s when Dad first turned the house over to the Trust. Pemberley's always had a farm and the farmhouse was large enough to house all four of us, so there we went. Mr and Mrs Giles, the farmer and his wife, were pleased to have us. Ana and I stay with them whenever we visit Pemberley nowadays - there's no point in staying at the big house.”

Lizzy nodded and settled in to enjoy the drive; not that motorway driving was ever particularly scintillating. London was about three and a half hours from Lambton, the town nearest to Pemberley as Will had told her, and Pemberley was another half a hour's journey from there.

Lizzy was pleased when they arrived in Lambton. It was midday and about time for lunch. By this time she was fairly sure that she was in the throes of a hypo and consequently any food would have been good. She was, therefore, not happy when Will announced that they would continue to Pemberley before lunch.

Suffering from a sugar low, Lizzy spent the rest of the journey feeling hungry, nauseous and headachy. She knew that she ought to eat a chocolate bar or drink some of the Lucozade she kept in her bag for occasions like this but if she did then Will would know that something was up and the last thing she wanted was for him to see her as weak. It was one thing for him to be au fait with her condition when she was in control, quite another for him to witness the effect it had on her when things went wrong. Closing her eyes, she willed him to drive faster.

Eventually, Will paused, apparently to give her the best view of the old house. Unfortunately, by this time she was feeling so ill that she didn't really appreciate it.

“Are you okay, Elizabeth?” Will asked, as she made vague appreciative noises.

“I'm fine,” she replied, shortly.

“Are you sure? You don't look fine.”

“I said I was fine,” she snapped. Another symptom of hypoglycaemia was aggression and she knew that she was guilty of suffering from it.

“You're not,” Will stated. “Don't you look at me like that,” he added, as she glared at him. “I might be an obstetrician now, Elizabeth, but I trained as a doctor just the same as everyone else. So don't try and fob me off. What's the matter?”

“Nothing,” she insisted.

”Elizabeth…” there was a note of warning in his voice.

“Oh, for fuck's sake Will, just drive me to your goddamn farm,” she snapped. Will did as he was bidden, whilst Lizzy felt guilty for taking it out on him. It was only when she stepped out of the car that she realised she was having difficulty supporting her own weight. Panicking, she clutched at the car.

“Elizabeth?” Will looked at her questioningly. Realising that it was futile to pretend any longer, she gave in.

“I'm having a hypo,” she told him resignedly.

“For how long?” he demanded.

“Just get me some chocolate, Will,” she said, feeling too groggy to say anything else. Unable to support her own weight any longer, she collapsed on to the ground.

“Elizabeth…” Will was by her side in an instant. “Lizzy?”

“If I faint, call an ambulance,” she said, before passing out.

When she came to, Lizzy was lying on a bed, a worried Will checking her pulse.

“I thought I told you to call an ambulance,” she said, with a weak smile.

“Don't you ever do that again,” Will replied, sitting down next to her. “You nearly gave me heart failure. As for the hospital, as I told you, I'm a doctor. We got some sugar into your system, which was all that was needed. But you worried Maggie, collapsing like that!”

“I'm sorry,” Lizzy said contritely. “I didn't mean for that to happen.”

“No one in their right mind would,” Will replied. “How long, exactly, had you known you were having a hypo?”

“Not sure,” she said. “Half an hour, three quarters of an hour?”

“Then why on earth didn't you do something about it?” Will demanded, folding his arms over his chest.

Lizzy looked at him sheepishly, not wanting to put her reasons into words. He sighed, sat down next to her and pulled her into an embrace.

“You scared me,” he said, softly. “Lizzy, I promise not to coddle you about this if you promise me not to make light of it. It's not a big deal if you don't make it into one.”

“All right for you to say,” Lizzy complained. “You're not the one on the receiving end.”

“True enough,” Will agreed. “But you have no idea how worried I was. Promise me, Elizabeth.”

“I promise,” she agreed. After all, she had no wish to repeat the occurrence either.

“Good girl,” he said, kissing her forehead. “Do you feel up to getting up?”

“I feel fine,” she admitted. “Hungry. Any lunch going?”

“If you're lucky,” Will replied, laughing.

Will ushered Lizzy into the kitchen and her first thought was that it looked like something out of one of the period dramas her younger sister was so fond of. The room was dominated by a large Aga, which was currently generating heat. The smell of freshly baked bread was in the air along with something that Lizzy could not identify, although she was happy to admit that it smelt good.

“Elizabeth, meet Maggie,” Will said, coming to a halt near to a middle aged woman who was manning the cooker.

“Hello,” Lizzy said obligingly. “Nice to meet you.”

“A pleasure to meet you too, dearie,” Maggie Giles replied. “Any friend of Will's is more than welcome to the farm!”

“Thank you,” Lizzy smiled.

“Tis not a problem,” Maggie said. “I hope you're feeling a bit better now. Will nearly gave me heart failure coming to the house with you like that!”

“I'm sorry,” Lizzy said, blushing.

“Don't worry, dearie,” Maggie said patting Lizzy on the shoulder. “Just sit down and rest a bit,” she guided Lizzy to a chair, “you'll soon feel better.”

“How long until lunch, Maggie?” Will asked.

“Five minutes,” that lady replied. “Gregor should be in soon. He's been busy with sheep this morning, making sure they're all cosy, like.”

“What's that?” A large bearded man entered the kitchen at that point. “Something smells good, Maggie.” He went to the stove and made as if to stick his finger in the saucepan. Maggie batted his hand away with a wooden spoon.

“Get out of it, Gregor Giles! It will be on the table soon enough!”

“Awww, Maggie!” Gregor sounded like a recalcitrant child. His whining didn't work though; his wife shooed him off to sit with Will and Lizzy at the table. It was then that he noticed Lizzy. “Hello, there! You must be young William's Lady Friend.”

“Lizzy Bennet,” Lizzy introduced herself, offering Gregor her hand.

“Lovely to meet you, Lizzy,” Gregor smiled. “It makes me feel old,” he continued. “I can remember when me laddo was knee high to a grasshopper. He was a funny little fellow, always wanted to know the why and how of everything. Grew up on this `ere farm, he did.”

“Oh, you hush with your babbling, Gregor!” Maggie butted in. “Will was a lovely lad. Never a harsh word for anyone, always sharing his good fortune. Not like others I could name.” A dark look crossed Maggie's face.

“I am here, you know,” Will pointed out.

“Yes, dear, we had noticed,” Maggie said affectionately, as she placed a large plate of crusty bread on the table. “Now, how about you tell us how you met Elizabeth…”

“She's Charles Bingley's sister in law,” Will explained. “You know Charles, of course. Have you met Jane?”

“Oh, of course!” Maggie beamed. “I remember Mrs Bingley; what a lovely lady! And you're her sister?”

“I have that distinction, yes,” Lizzy admitted. “I'm nothing like Jay, though she's like Mary Poppins: practically perfect in every way. I'm a bit more human.” She laughed.

“I'm sure that's not true,” Maggie protested, setting a bowl of soup in front of Elizabeth. “Any friend of William's is a friend of ours!”

“Maggie has a crush on him,” Gregor murmered. “Has had ever since he went into long trousers.”

“I heard that, Gregor Giles!” Maggie said indignantly. “Don't listen to him, Elizabeth.” She settled herself into a seat next to Will. “Tuck in, everyone.!”

For several minutes there was silence as the assembled company sampled Maggie Giles' cooking. The chicken soup was unlike any other Lizzy had sampled and she had a feeling she would never be satisfied by any other version again and it was clear that the bread was home made. Clearly the Gileses looked after Will.

She said as much to Maggie, and was regaled with tales of Will's childhood. The picture she painted was nothing if not flattering. From Maggie's description Lizzy grasped that William had been a sensitive child who always had time for friends and family. In spite of the Darcy's obvious wealth, he had been involved in normal childhood activities ranging from water fights to tidying his bedroom. “He was never spoiled,” Maggie had said, and Lizzy couldn't help but compare the child she was hearing about with the man sitting next to her. The perfect child had grown into the perfect man, she decided, once you got past the indifferent façade. Her heart would most definitely be in jeopardy if she wasn't careful.

“What do you want from life?” Will asked suddenly. They were curled up in front of a roaring fire on Saturday evening, Lizzy fully recovered from her earlier misadventure. If the question struck her as odd, she didn't show it.

“What does anyone want from life?” she responded. “I guess one day I'd like to get married and have children. I'm only 22, though. I don't think I want children until I'm at least 26. I've spent enough time as a slave to school and then university; I want to enjoy life for me. I'd like to get married and enjoy my husband for a bit and then have children.” She pondered this for a bit, and then turned the question around on to him. “What about you?”

“The same, I think,” he agreed. “Marriage, a family. Happiness, I suppose. I don't want to end my days lonely. I'd like a large family. It's been Ana and I for so long… I don't know; I miss family life more than anything else…” he looked sad, so Lizzy hastened to distract him.

“A big family would be nice,” she agreed. “Although having come from one, it's not all sweetness and light,” she added. “I don't know…I'm not always sure I want to go through pregnancy and childbirth…”

“You and millions of other women,” Will laughed. “I see that a lot in my patients. Once you're pregnant, though, that's it.”

“Maybe,” Lizzy nodded. “I guess I see so many broken homes and know of so many children that have ended up in care, part of me wants to help them. It seems a travesty to bring more children into the world when there are so many neglected kids already.”

“Hrmm,” Will looked thoughtful. “Perhaps. I'd like my own children though. Could you not do both?”

“Hrmmm…” Lizzy looked at him with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. “Planning to have your children with me, are you? Aren't you supposed to ask me first?”

Will laughed. “This is a hypothetical discussion,” he explained. “I'm a doctor who deals with women having babies every day. You're surprised that we're discussing this?”

“Not really,” Lizzy smiled. “It makes sense, really. It's sort of like the sex and contraception discussion. Beforehand you think it will be awkward, and sometimes it is, but it's better to get your cards on the table straight away.”

“Indeed,” Will nodded and looked at her expectantly.

“I walked right into that one, didn't I,” Lizzy laughed. “Sex… I don't know. A part of me thinks it would be nice not to have sex until I'm married, but I don't think that's as likely to happen in this day and age. And I'm not entirely sure I want to wait, either. It's always a good idea to know what you're getting yourself in for.”

“You're…” Will raised his eyebrows at her.

“Oh, give over Will, I'm twenty-two. In spite of what the Daily Mail would have you think, we're not all at it like rabbits. When would I have had an opportunity to sleep with someone at school? And then at uni I was too busy focusing on getting a degree to get that serious with anybody.”

“And after that…?”

“Honey, there is no after that,” Lizzy smiled at the look on his face. . “After uni, the only men I really had the chance to see were interested in divorcing their spouse, which doesn't exactly fill me with enthusiasm for the opposite sex, nor for marriage.” She smiled at the look on his face. “You need to work on your come to bed eyes,” she told him

“Hmph,” was all the response she got.

“And yes, I am on the pill,” she told him. “Bloody periods. Literally.” Will pulled a face. “Will, you spend all day looking at women's bits and pieces and you're still squeamish when people talk about menstruation?”

“Too much information,” Will replied. “Anyway, by the time ladies get to see me menstruation isn't really an issue. And even if it was… well, its one thing to know the ins and outs of patients, it's quite another to hear it from your girlfriend.”

“Is that what I am?” Lizzy asked.

”What else would you call it?” Will asked, holding her gaze with his own.

“I don't know,” she admitted. “I don't want to get too serious too quickly, Will,” she added. “I like you. I like you a lot. Hey, I might even be persuaded to love you. But right now, I'm not ready for a wholesale commitment.”

“Elizabeth, saying you're my girlfriend isn't the same as saying you're my wife,” he pointed out.

“I know,” she admitted. “I haven't done this before, Will. Be patient with me.”

“Whatever you need,” he said, affectionately. “And for the record, I like you a lot, too.”

“Nice to know,” she grinned, snuggling further into his embrace.

Having spied a selection of films by the television, she had charmed Will into agreeing to watch Disney's Beauty and the Beast. First released in 1991, it was a film that her younger sisters had watched incessantly for months. In the mood for nostalgia, she wriggled into a comfortable position lying on the sofa, with Will's solid warmth behind her and watched with interest.

The film followed the standard fairytale format so common for Disney in those days, a charming blend of dialogue and music. Lizzy, who had been subjected to some of Disney's more modern offerings thanks to the existence of small cousins, was convinced that the company had been in its prime during her youth. And when the Beast and Beauty finally got along she couldn't help but see the parallels between their situation and her own, although in fairness to Will he had never sported a mane!

Tale as old as time
True as it can be
Barely even friends
Then somebody bends
Unexpectedly

“I love Mrs Potts,” Lizzy sighed, causing Will to smile into her hair. “If I ever had a housekeeper I'd want one just like her.”

“You'll like Kate, then,” Will told her. He'd told her about Kate Reynolds in the past and Lizzy had to admit to being just a little intimidated by the prospect of such a woman.

Just a little change
Small to say the least
Both a little scared
Neither one prepared
Beauty and the Beast

“What about Jane and Charles?” Lizzy asked.

“What about them?”

“Well, I'm Beauty,” Lizzy informed him. “And you're…”

“Let me guess,” he said, with a mock scowl. “I'm the beast.”

“Yep,” Lizzy nodded and then squealed as he tickled her.

“Jane and Charles are Lumiere and his French Maid. You know Bingley could charm the birds from the trees!”

”But Jane's not a French maid!” Lizzy complained.

“Charles isn't a candlestick,” Will retorted. “More to the point, I'm not a beast!”

Ever just the same
Ever a surprise
Ever as before
Ever just as sure
As the sun will rise

“Well, neither is that Beast,” Lizzy pointed out. “He's actually a nice guy, now he's learnt his lesson. Just like you.”

“What do you mean, `just like you'?” Will demanded, fingers poised to tickle her again.

“Well, I thought you were an arrogant so-and-so when we first met,” Lizzy told him, placing her hands over his in a futile attempt to foil his attack. “And actually, you're really rather lovely. So, first impressions can be misleading.”

Tale as old as time
Tune as old as song
Bittersweet and strange
Finding you can change
Learning you were wrong

“True,” Will agreed, although he still tickled her. Apparently such a slight on his character warranted this attention. “So you think you're Belle, do you?” he asked, pausing in his torture.

“Naturally,” Lizzy mocked herself. “Can't you see my stunning figure, perfect smile and amazing singing?”

“You can't see singing,” Will objected.

“You know what I mean,” Lizzy replied.

Certain as the sun
Rising in the East
Tale as old as time
Song as old as rhyme
Beauty and the Beast

“I've never heard you sing,” Will said.

“Pardon?”

“I don't know whether you sing well because I've never heard you sing,” he repeated.

“No real loss,” she replied, not unaware of his meaning. She loved Will's flattery because it was so very subtle. Somehow it meant more than a cursory `you look beautiful'.

Tale as old as time
Song as old as rhyme
Beauty and the Beast

“Yes it is,” Will replied, his mouth mere centimetres away from her own. “One day you must sing for me,” he breathed. “Jane says you've the voice of an angel.”

“Jane exaggerates,” Lizzy whispered in reply, trying to ignore the racing of her heart.

“I don't think so,” he said, as his mouth caught hers. His kiss, though gentle, was entirely different from any he had ever bestowed on her before and Lizzy felt herself melt in his embrace, surrendering herself to the emotions he was evoking.

As Lizzy came back to consciousness the next morning she was greeted by gentle kisses. Will, it appeared, was an early riser. He had left her at the door of the guest room in the wee hours of the morning, kissing her before taking himself off to his own quarters. There had been no pushing for a more physical commitment and Elizabeth admired him for that. Nevertheless, he clearly felt that it was his duty to ensure that she woke up feeling cherished.

“Good morning,” she said sleepily, gazing at his well muscled figure, which was currently seated on her bed.

“What's the time?” Lizzy asked, enjoying the feeling of peace that her current position afforded her.

“About eight,” Will replied. “You'll need to get up soon if you want to see Pemberley.”

“I didn't think it would be open today,” Lizzy said, confused.

“It isn't,” Will replied. “But it's still my house. We can have a look around in peace and quiet; no one will be there today.”

“Not even cleaners?” Lizzy found that hard to believe.

“Not even cleaners,” Will confirmed, slipping out of bed.

“Where are you going?” she demanded.

“To get a shower,” he replied.

“Hrmm,” she muttered incoherently, rolling over and going back to sleep.

They finally left the farm at half past ten. Lizzy would have been happier to leave earlier, but Maggie had insisted on giving them a full English breakfast, luring Will into the kitchen. Lizzy had felt obliged to follow, and in truth had fully enjoyed the treat that Maggie had prepared. She treated herself in such a fashion rarely, for although it is a myth that diabetics cannot eat such food, it is true that they must be aware of what they are putting into their system, and generally Lizzy opted for a breakfast high in carbohydrates.

“All ready, then?” Will asked as they stood outside the farmhouse, both dressed in jeans and warm winter coats. Elizabeth nodded her assent and together they crossed the rough tracks to the main house. Will explained that there were gravelled paths around the property, but that the farm had been kept separate in order to afford the family privacy. It made perfect sense to Elizabeth.

It was obvious when they reached the great house's grounds, for the grass became well-kept lawn and the wild flowers transformed into a gardener's pride and joy. As for the house itself… It was the stuff that fairy tales are made of. It's classic lines and pale stone structure gave it charm and understated elegance. Lizzy had seen many stately homes in her time and Pemberley stood up there with the best of them. There was no doubting that there were hideous monstrosities of architecture in Great Britain but Pemberley was simply magic. When she told Will this, he laughed.

“You're not the only person to think so,” he told her. “Lots of people like the place so much that they decide to get married here. It gives everyone extra work and the extra cash is always welcome, so it doesn't bother me. I'm not here most of the time, anyway. Babies wait on no man!”

“Do you want to get married here, then?” Lizzy asked.

“I don't know,” Will looked thoughtful. “I don't think so. Generally you get married in the bride's parish and even if we didn't, I'd still want to marry in a church. I'd probably settle for the chapel in Lambton…”

“Are you religious, then?” Lizzy was curious. They hadn't been to church, but that meant nothing.

“I believe in God, if that's what you mean,” Will told her. “Believing that there is heaven helped me through my parents' deaths. I go to the services if I have the time. It's peaceful. I don't know that I'm what they'd call a devout Christian, but I believe in something.”

Lizzy nodded and they continued towards the main doors of the house, which was guarded by a flight of steps. Once inside, Lizzy was forced to accept that William Darcy was a very wealthy man. Although some of the items on display belonged to the National Trust, for the most part the house was furnished with items that had been in the Darcy family for centuries; items that were probably priceless. Lizzy might not have been an expert in such matters but she knew quality when she saw it and Pemberley exuded quality. If she was honest, it was quite intimidating and she was thankful that they were staying in the farmhouse and not in the great house itself. Beautiful it may have been but it was from another era and another world, a world she was not sure that she was compatible with. Nevertheless, she enjoyed William's tour and especially the family anecdotes he regaled her with and when they eventually left Pemberley it was laughing, arm in arm.

Maggie provided them with a late lunch when they arrived back at the farmhouse. She and Gregor had already eaten, but she was happy to provide a meal for the two of them, offering thick slices of smoked ham with homemade bread and butter and a large Victoria Sponge.

“It's Georgiana's favourite,” she told Lizzy. If Lizzy wondered why Maggie was making the favourite of the sister when the brother was in residence then she didn't say anything. “Will's fond of it, too,” Maggie added.

“What's that?” Will looked up from the paper he had been studying in time to see the slices of cake and his face lit up like a small child's. “Maggie, you are an angel. Ana would kiss you if she were here!

“She'll be home for half-term soon enough, Will,” Maggie told him, as Lizzy noticed the wistful look on Will's face as he spoke of his sister. “Do you remember all those tea parties she used to subject you to? I'm surprised you let her get away with it!”

“Ana's fifteen years younger than me,” Will explained. “So by the time she was playing with tea sets I was getting ready to go to university. Mum died when Ana was two,” he added, his face clouding. “And Dad was busy with work. There weren't really any other children around for her to play with and it was no hardship to eat cake with her and her dolls.”

“It must have been hard,” Lizzy said, sympathetically, unable to imagine growing up without her mother. For all that Debbie Bennet could irritate her, she loved her mother and knew that she owed a lot to her.

“Maggie helped a lot,” Will said, his eyes taking on a faraway quality. “But yeah, it was hard. Dad was gutted by it. He died five years ago and since then it's just been Ana and me. There I was, twenty-five years old with a ten year old to look after.”

Lizzy placed her hand over his in a gesture of comfort. It was clearly painful for him to talk about his parents, yet his pride in his sister was clear with everything he said about her.

“She's at school at the moment,” Will explained. “In Kent. She boards. It was a difficult decision to make but I was just starting out as a doctor, working ungodly hours. It's better for her to be with girls of her own age. I hoped it would improve her confidence; she became very withdrawn after Dad died.”

“Did it?” Lizzy asked, pressing his hand again.

“To some extent,” he sighed. “She's still shy of strangers, but she's not as isolated now. The school is a fantastic one and gives her plenty of opportunity to develop her interests. She's an amazing pianist,” he explained. “I don't know where she got her talent from but at Benenden she has the chance to hone it.”

“She sounds lovely,” Lizzy said, and although she could hardly say anything else, she truly meant it.

“Would you like to meet her?” Will asked. “It's half term in a couple of weeks and we've decided that she'll come to me in London for the week rather than travelling all the way up here. I'd like to introduce you to her.”

“It would be an honour,” Lizzy said, wondering what meeting his family meant for their relationship. She found herself deciding that it really didn't matter. If Will was getting serious about her then she didn't mind. She had decided that she could fall in love with him, if she let herself.

Chapter 5 - Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered

When Will had been searching for the ideal place to send his little sister after their father's death, he hadn't really been sure what to look for. At just twenty-five, he felt the burden placed on his shoulders heavily. Moreover, he was determined that Ana would get the best that money could buy. George Darcy's death had left the ten year old vulnerable and withdrawn and he felt that he could not help her on his own. Just out of university, he was a struggling junior doctor. True, the family business would have welcomed him to the fold but he had gone into medicine with one goal in mind: obstetrics. His mother had died when Georgiana was just two as a result of a complication with pregnancy; having already determined that he wanted to study medicine, he vowed there and then that he would devote his life to helping other women like his mother. But becoming a specialist took time and Georgiana was growing up quickly. He determined that the best thing for her would be boarding school and together they had scoured the country searching for the perfect place for her. Benenden offered just the advantages he was hoping for; it was close enough to London that his sister would be able to return home over the weekend, the setting was beautiful, the opportunities were amazing, and Ana had blossomed there. Looking at the beautiful building, he was filled with a sense of peace. Ana had thrived there; he had done the right thing.

He sat in the car for a while, knowing that his sister would find him eventually. Undoubtedly she was busy saying goodbye to her friend. Half-term only lasted a week, but not everyone had the opportunity to return home. Many of the pupils were from overseas. The school offered plenty of activities for them but he knew that Ana sometimes felt guilty returning home to London when her friends were so far away from their own families.

He was startled from his thoughts when the car door was opened and a slight young woman poked her head in.

“Sorry I'm late, Will,” Ana said, bending in to kiss him. “Adalia was upset because her parents won't be around over half term. She was really looking forward to seeing them and little Heidi. They're in Germany at the moment, though. It's not fair that you've seen the baby and Addie hasn't!”

“I'm sorry,” Will said, in mock contrition. “Would you rather I let Adalia do my job?” Liesel Schulmann was one of his patients and he had seen her through a difficult pregnancy before Heidi was born. He softened, realising that Ana's friend had probably been concerned about her mother and sister. “I'm sorry, Ana. I wish Adalia had been able to see Heidi - she's gorgeous.”

“You say that about all babies,” Ana pointed out. “And most of the time they're red and scrawny.”

“They're all miracles, though,” Will replied. “But Heidi is a beauty - she looks like her mother and you know that Frau Schulmann was a model before she married Adalia's father.”

“She is pretty,” Ana agreed grudgingly. “Addie's Vater sent her a picture. She's tiny, though. Her Mutti says she's just like Addie, but I can't imagine it. Addie's so tall!”

“Babies do grow, Ana,” Will pointed out.

“I know that,” Ana retorted. “But still…”

“You were quite a big baby,” Will went on. “And look at you now; you're tiny!”

“I know,” Ana pulled a face. “I wish I was taller. I don't know anyone who's shorter than me!”

“Elizabeth is,” Will told her, not really thinking about it.

“Elizabeth?” Ana caught on to his slip very quickly. “Who's Elizabeth?”

“Elizabeth, my dear, is Jane Bingley's sister. Also my girlfriend.”

“You have a girlfriend?” Ana looked at him incredulously. “Are you sure you're feeling okay, Will? I'd begun to think you were gay!”

“Less of that, cheeky,” Will said affectionately. “Elizabeth is lovely. You'll like her, Ana. And not just because she's shorter than you!”

“How short is she?” Ana had reason to ask; she stood at 5'4” in her socks.

“About an inch shorter than you,” Will replied. “But she usually wears heels,” he added.

“How do you kiss her?” Ana asked curiously. Will glared at her. “Okay, forget I asked that,” she said, blushing. “But it must be hard,” she continued. “I mean, you're more than a foot taller than her!”

“I'm impressed by your mathematical capabilities, sister, dear,” Will said dryly. “We manage.” He had no intention of discussing his love life in great detail with his little sister. Fair enough, Ana wasn't a child anymore, but he simply wouldn't feel comfortable with her knowing such things. He'd been her father figure for so long that he had got used to keeping his business from her as much as possible and that included the women in his life. In spite of Ana's belief to the contrary, he had dated women in the past few years but none of them impressed him enough for him to introduce them to his sister. Elizabeth was different. “Now, tell me about your singing,” he said, effectively changing the subject.

“Miss Smith says that I'm doing very well,” Georgiana smiled, as she mentioned her singing teacher. Even before she had started at Benenden she had a penchant for music and once she had enrolled, the staff there had encouraged her to develop her skills. Consequently, she had signed up for singing and piano lessons. Will secretly wondered if, in those early days, she had used music to deal with her grief at the passing of their father. She had never said as much to him, but he came across her playing and singing melancholy tunes so often that he had been worried for a while. As she had increased her proficiency, so she had increased her repertoire, and nowadays he was more likely to hear the Blues than Chopin's preludes.

“I'm glad to hear it,” he said, smiling at her. “You're a clever old stick, Georgiana Darcy. I'm proud of you.” He laughed inwardly at his sister's blush; Ana had never been one for accepting compliments. It set the tone, though, and they spent the rest of the journey laughing and joking, catching up on each other's lives. Elizabeth, by a tacit agreement, was not mentioned again.

When they arrived home, Kate was waiting impatiently for them. William suppressed a smile at her obvious desire to see Georgiana. After their mother's death, Kate had became the maternal figure in the little girl's life and it was Kate that Ana turned to when she needed an ear to talk to. Many people of William's acquaintance might have frowned at the relationship between his sister and housekeeper, but it bothered him not a whit. Ana needed a woman to guide her through life and Kate Reynolds treated her like the daughter she had never had. Ana turned to Will for support as often as she did to Kate, but Will was only to happy to have Kate explain the birds and the bees to her; he had no idea how to deal with such topics in spite of his chosen career path.

“Let me look at you!” Kate exclaimed, after pulling Ana into a bear hug. She stepped back to eye her charge critically. “You're growing up, Ana,” she said, looking sad. “You're not a little girl anymore.”

“You've said that every time I've come home from school since I first started,” Ana replied, laughing. “And I've hardly grown at all, Kate. My clothes all fit still!”

“Still no growth spurt, then?” Kate smiled. “Never mind, Ana. All good things come in little packages. Remember that. If you were tall you'd only want to be shorter.”

“That's what Steph says,” Ana told her. “She says that it's a nightmare buying clothes when you're long and lanky, and that I should think myself lucky. It's much easier to find petite clothes than it is to find tall ranges, apparently.”

“Poor Stephanie,” Kate looked sympathetic. Ana's friend Stephanie was nearly six feet tall and hated it.

“I don't want to be that tall,” Ana explained. “Just tall enough to reach the top shelf of the cupboards!”

“You want to grow so you can reach the chocolate biscuits?” Will looked at Ana incredulously, while Kate chuckled. “But we have a ladder, Ana!”

“Yeah, but it makes a noise,” his sister told him, sulkily. “And then Kate hears me and tells me off,” she added. “I can't help liking chocolate.” She sounded wounded.

“That was five years ago, Georgiana Darcy, and you'd already made yourself sick gorging on cakes. I think you know the value of moderation nowadays!”

“Hrmph,” was all the reply she received.

“Don't you get all teenager on me, Miss,” Kate said, affectionately. “Come on, let's get your bags to your room, and you can fill me in on all the gossip. No doubt William wants to phone his young lady.”

“Have you met her? What's she like?” Ana's eyes lit up when Kate mentioned Elizabeth.

“I haven't met her. Your brother only brought her here once and that was on my weekend off. She sounds like a lovely lady, though.”

“I bet Will told you that,” Ana challenged.

“Actually, Charles did,” Kate referred to Charles Bingley.

“You mean he wasn't waxing lyrical about his angel?” Ana looked shocked.

“Leave Charles alone, Ana,” Kate warned. “You might be in his shoes one day.”

“I doubt it,” Ana laughed. “I suppose it's romantic, really, but you have to admit that he does exaggerate. Jane is a sweetie, but the way Charles talks you'd think she was the best thing since sliced bread.”

“Perhaps to him, she is,” Kate replied, ushering Ana up the stairs.

“Oh, by the way,” Will called, just as they reached the landing. “You'll get to meet Elizabeth tomorrow, Ana. She said she'd come to dinner.” And with that he walked off to his study, leaving sister and housekeeper gaping in his wake. He'd never introduced them to any women before. As he slipped into his room, he heard Ana's shocked tones.

“It must be serious,” she said. “He's bringing her in to meet the family!”

“Are you sure you don't want me to come and collect you?”

“Positive,” Elizabeth affirmed. Will had phoned her to check that she knew where she was going. She was due for dinner in just under an hour. “I'd much rather get the tube, and no doubt you want to spend some time with your sister.”

“I don't like the idea of you travelling home on your own, though,” he worried.

“I may be persuaded to let you escort me home,” she laughed. “How do you think I got around before you came along?”

“Car?”

“Not bloody likely!” Elizabeth laughed. “In London traffic? I'd have to be suicidal. No, the tube works perfectly well for me, Will. I'll be with you soon, don't worry. Do you want me to bring anything?”

“No. Just yourself.” He smiled. This was part of a ritual they had developed. Whenever he visited Lizzy, he offered to bring something. Whenever she met him she made the same offer. Neither had ever taken the other up on their gesture, but it had become a sort of in-joke between them.

“See you later, then,” he could hear her smile.

“See you later, Elizabeth .”

“Bye!”

Will smiled as he settled into his chair. He had no doubt that Elizabeth and Ana would get on like a house on fire once his sister got over her initial shyness. With people that she knew she was only too chatty but she had never got over her innate wariness of new people. She was much better in an intimate setting but Will knew only too well that she hated crowds. Kate had long ago suggested that her first memory of such an event was of her mother's funeral. The confusion that she had felt then had probably left her with a deep fear of such situations.

“Will?” the object of his thoughts poked her head around the door. “What should I wear?”

“Whatever you like?” he was confused.

“I want to make a good impression,” Ana explained, somewhat sheepishly. “You obviously like Elizabeth and I want her to like me.”

“Just be yourself, Ana,” he assured her. “And you look fine as you are.”

“But I've been wearing this all day!” Ana protested.

“So? Elizabeth won't dress up.”

“She won't?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

“Will, are you telling me that you're not dating a fashion plate?”

“Yes.”

“You're going soft in your old age,” she said, patting his arm affectionately. “You only used to date those annoying superficial women.”

“I never dated them, Ana, they threw themselves at me!”

“You went out with them.”

“Out of politeness. And how do you know, anyway?”

“I'm not blind, Will! You do occasionally have parties when I'm around, you know!”

“Well, Elizabeth is most definitely not a `lady who lunches', so you'll be fine,” he referred to the high society women by the term that his mother had used when she had been alive. Lady Anne Darcy, in spite of her family connections, had never been a lady who lunched. As Ana smiled and left the room, Will sighed. He wished his parents were still alive. They would have loved Elizabeth; he knew he did. He shook his head. It was too soon to be thinking such thoughts. He wondered if women weren't the only people with biological clocks that ticked. Then he smiled, recalling the conversation with Elizabeth that had introduced him to that phrase. She was everything he had ever hoped for and more.

True to William's prediction, when Elizabeth arrived she was wearing a chunky red roll neck with pale combat trousers and trainers. From Ana's expression, Will couldn't decide if she was delighted or horrified. He hoped for the former. Certainly Elizabeth was unlike any other women he had ever been involved with, Ana had been right about that.

“Am I late?” Elizabeth asked anxiously as she removed her coat and raised her face for Will's kiss. “I hate it when I'm late.”

“You're fine,” he assured her, hanging her coat on the stand and leading her into the living room, where Ana was hiding. She had spied Elizabeth out of the window, which was how he knew that she was surprised by that lady's appearance. “There's someone I'd like you to meet,” he said, taking her hand and leading her to Ana. “Elizabeth, this is my sister, Georgiana. Ana, meet Elizabeth Bennet.”

“I'm so pleased to meet you at last,” Elizabeth smiled, as she settled herself on the settee next to Ana. “Will's told me so much about you!”

“Has he?” Ana looked doubtful.

“Of course!” Elizabeth laughed. “Like all elder siblings, he's only too happy to tell everyone about your achievements. Jane is exactly the same. I remember what she was like when I got into Cambridge.”

“You went to Cambridge?” Ana looked at Elizabeth, eyes wide with awe. Will couldn't help but smile at the way Elizabeth effortlessly overcame Ana's instinctive shyness without it even becoming an issue.

“For my sins,” Elizabeth nodded. “It wasn't the Cambridge thing that got to me so much as the fact that she was telling everyone how old - or rather how young - I was. Everyone she came across `Lizzy's going to Cambridge! And she's only fifteen! My sister's a genius!' I nearly died. If I ever entertained any notion of underage drinking, Jane ruined it there and then.”

“Were you really only fifteen?”

“Well, I was when I got the acceptance letter,” Elizabeth clarified. “I didn't actually start until I was sixteen.”

“But…I'm fifteen now!” Ana looked incredulous.

“Tell me about it,” Elizabeth looked at her wryly. “I skipped a couple of years at school,” she explained. “I'd already done the first year, really, because whatever Jane did I wanted to do too, so they moved me up before I got too bored. And then I skipped a year at secondary school too. So I ended up going to uni the year after Jane, even though she's three years older than me.”

“What did you study?” Ana was enthralled by Elizabeth's narrative, Will could tell. To be honest, he was fairly interested himself. He knew that Elizabeth had started at university when she was absurdly young, but she didn't really elaborate any further.

“Medieval and Modern Language,” Elizabeth smiled. “It was a four year course, and then I did a year's conversion course before starting at the legal practice. So I made up for the years I missed at school by doing extra years at university,” she laughed. “I started practicing law when I was twenty one, and I'm nearly twenty-three now. I've been working at the firm for eighteen months, near enough.”

“When's your birthday?” Ana asked and Will smiled. He'd been wondering how he could find that out without being too obvious.

“29th February,” Elizabeth grinned. “So, technically I've only had three birthdays.”

Ana laughed and Will's smile broadened at the sound. He knew that Elizabeth and Ana would like each other.

“You need to meet Kate,” Ana announced, challenging Will to defy her with her eyes. “She's in the kitchen. Come on, I'll show you.” Will stood up to follow them, but Ana turned around and stopped him. “Not you,” she told him. “We need to have a girlie chat and tell Elizabeth about your bad points!”

“I'm not sure I like the sound of that,” Will told her.

“I didn't think you would,” she smirked. “Don't worry, we'll be gentle,” she called over her shoulder, as she led Elizabeth from the room.

Ana and Elizabeth spent half an hour with Kate, a half hour that Will found rather uncomfortable. It wasn't that he thought they had anything too awful to tell Elizabeth about, but rather he was unhappy about being forced to spend time away from Elizabeth, knowing that she was in his house. He was therefore very relieved when Ana and Elizabeth reappeared to tell him that Kate was just serving dinner up.

Taking the arm of each of the ladies, he escorted them to the dining room, noting Elizabeth's amused look as he did so. He couldn't help but smile at the mischief in her eyes; instinctively he knew that she could bring laughter into his life. Indeed, he had laughed more in the couple of months that they had been together than he had in the previous five years!

They settled down at the table, Will at the head, Elizabeth to his right and Ana to his left. Kate had set it beautifully with the best dinner service. Will resisted the urge to laugh - when Elizabeth had stayed over on Valentine's day she had eaten her breakfast from Ana's Peter Rabbit bowl. The contrast was dramatic.

“This looks lovely!” Elizabeth exclaimed, her eyes flitting from the place settings to the flower arrangement in the centre of the table, before resting on his face.

“It is pretty impressive,” Ana agreed. “We don't normally eat like this,” she added. “I think Kate wants to impress you!”

“I'm impressed,” Elizabeth laughed. “It's a far cry from my flat, that's for certain! I don't even have a dining room!”

“Do you live on your own?” Ana asked, curiously.

“Yeah,” Elizabeth nodded. “I used to share a flat with Jane, but then she married Charles, and I had to get a home of my own. I suppose I could have moved in with a friend or something, but I was glad to have my own place. It's home.”

“I'd hate to live on my own,” Ana told her. “It's bad enough with just Will and me to fill the house up.”

“My flat's a bit smaller than this,” Lizzy smiled. “I like the solitude. There are plenty of people I can visit if I want company. It's nice to be able to relax when I get in, though. And there's no one around to complain if I don't wash the dishes.”

“You need Kate,” Ana smiled. “Then you wouldn't have to worry about dishes. She says I don't clean them properly.”

“You don't,” Will told her, smiling. “The one time she let you have the kitchen to yourself it looked like a bomb had hit.”

“Yeah, well…” Ana looked sheepish. Before she had a chance to defend herself, though, Kate entered the room carrying a steaming dish.

“Toad in the Hole,” she announced in response to Ana's questioning look. “I'll bring the veg out in a minute,” she added.

“Thanks, Kate,” Will smiled. As always, his housekeeper had come through. In spite of its somewhat dubious name, toad in the hole was the perfect meal for warming the cockles of the heart on a cold February evening. And if he knew Kate, there would be roast potatoes amongst the vegetables. If there was one thing that Will had a weakness for it was Kate's roast potatoes - crunchy on the outside yet deliciously fluffy on the inside.

“I've always wondered why it's called toad in the hole,” Elizabeth mused. “It's not like we call sausages `toads' or anything.”

“I have no idea,” Will admitted. “As long as it tastes okay, though, I'm not going to concern myself with that too much!”

“ Typical man,” Georgiana quipped. “Always thinking of your stomach!”

Will did not deign to reply to that comment, and the three of them spent a companionable half an hour consuming Kate's cooking and chatting about all manner of things. It was clear to Will that Ana was very taken with Elizabeth, and he was delighted when the two of them arranged a shopping trip for the following weekend.

After dinner, Elizabeth persuaded Ana to perform for them. Knowing that his sister was very shy about performing for strangers, Will was surprised when Ana agreed, with the proviso that Elizabeth should also play for them.

“I didn't know you played the piano!” he said accusingly.

“I don't, not really,” she told him. “Most musicians can manage to hammer a tune out, though. The cello is my real love, but I doubt that you have one hiding around the corner, so you'll have to make do with my attempts at working the ivories!” The smile she gave him melted Will's heart.

Ana led them to the music room and Will noticed Elizabeth gape at the Steinway, which had pride of place. He smiled. It had been a present for Georgiana when she passed her Grade V exam. He knew that some people might think it was a bit excessive but he had used some of his father's legacy to make the purchase and the joy on Ana's face had made it more than worth the money he had paid for it.

“You have a Steinway,” Elizabeth breathed, still enchanted by the vision in front of her.

“I know!” Ana grinned. “Will bought it for me!”

“I should be jealous,” Elizabeth smiled. “As it stands, I'm pretty impressed. What's it like to play?”

“Amazing,” Ana told her proudly. “You'll be able to find out for yourself in a minute.”

“I thought you were going first,” Elizabeth countered.

“I am,” Ana smiled.

“What are you going to play?” Will asked, looking forward to this exhibit of his sister's talent.

“The piano,” Ana smirked. He glared at her. “Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered.” She relented, glancing at Elizabeth, and then at Will significantly. “I thought you might appreciate it. Besides, Miss Smith said it was coming on really well. I'd like to know what you think.”

“I'm sure it will be wonderful,” Will told her.

“You always say that,” she complained. “I'm sure you exaggerate.”

“That's his job,” Elizabeth joined the conversation. “He's a big brother.”

Ana smiled at her, and took her place at the piano. Without the aid of sheet music, she started to play the opening bars. Will watched Elizabeth and was pleased to see the enchantment on her face.

“He's a fool and don't I know it
But a fool can have his charms
I'm in love and don't I show it
Like a babe in arms…”

Will listened as his sister's voice caressed the notes. Idly he reflected that there was something wrong about listening to Ana singing about love but he pushed that thought away. Ana had improved since he's last heard her; the song came to life from her lips.

“Love's the same old sad sensation
Lately I've not slept a wink
Since this half-pint imitation
Put me on the blink…”

Half-pint was right, he reflected, glancing at Elizabeth. She was tiny. But imitation? What he felt for Elizabeth was real, he knew that. It was simply a case of waiting for her to realise the same about him.

“I'm wild again
Beguiled again
A simpering whimpering child again
Bewitched bothered and bewildered am I

Couldn't sleep and wouldn't sleep
When love came and told me I shouldn't sleep
Bewitched bothered and bewildered am I…”

He watched Elizabeth intently, noting the way her eyes glazed over as though she were far away from them, in her own world. He wondered what she was thinking.

“Lost my heart but what of it
He is cold I agree
He can laugh but I love it
Although the laugh's on me

I'll sing to him, bring spring to him
And long for the day when I'll cling to him
Bewitched bothered and bewildered am I…”

He watched his sisters' hands fly over the keyboard as she played the bridge, reflecting on the talent that Ana possessed. He delighted in watching her develop before his eyes; it was almost as though she was his own child, although he was painfully aware that he could never replace his parents in her life.

“Lost my heart but what of it
He is cold I agree
He can laugh but I love it
Although the laugh's on me

I'll sing to him, bring spring to him
And long for the day when I'll cling to him
Bewitched bothered and bewildered am I

Bewitched bothered and bewildered am I.”

The last note of the song echoed in the stillness of the room. There was a moment of complete silence before Elizabeth broke into delighted applause.

“That was fantastic,” she told Ana enthusiastically. “You're amazing! There's no way I can follow that!”

“You promised,” Ana reminded her.

“Did I?” Elizabeth looked thoughtful.

“Not technically,” Ana admitted. “But you said you'd play. So now you have to.”

“I'm not going to get away without performing, am I?” Elizabeth asked. It was clearly a rhetorical question, but Ana answered anyway.

“No.”

“Thought so,” Elizabeth smiled. “Well, don't say I didn't warn you. And I'm afraid I can't play without music, so you'll have to wait while I find something.”

Will watched as she crossed the room to the piano and began to rifle through the music, which was stacked on a bookshelf near to it. Her dark curls were tied back loosely at the neck, and when she leant forward she exposed her neck, which simply begged to be kissed. With Ana in the room, though, Will resisted the urge to act on that impulse.

Finally, Elizabeth settled down on the piano stool, adjusting it slightly so that she could reach the pedals. She placed her music on the stand and spread her fingers over the keys.

Will had studied Elizabeth's hands before, many times, but it was at this moment that he realised they were the hands of a musician. Her fingers were long and elegant in comparison to her palm, although her hands themselves were tiny. As she launched into Mozart's Viennese Sonatinas, he noticed how she had to strain to make the octave. In spite of that, her fingers flew over the keyboard masterfully. It became evident that, regardless of what she suggested, Elizabeth was nothing if not proficient on the piano.

When she finished playing, he told her as much. She brushed off his praise easily.

“I manage,” she told him, “but I'm no pianist. Not a proper one. And the Mozart isn't that hard. Ana is far better than me. You don't have to be a music critic to work that out.”

“I thought you did very well,” Ana informed her.

“Yes,” Will agreed.

“You're just being kind,” Elizabeth refused to accept their compliments. “If you were praising my talents as a cellist I might be persuaded to believe you, but I haven't practised the piano properly for years. I dabble, certainly, but it's not exactly the hour a day that my piano teacher used to insist on.”

“Will you play the cello for us one day?” Ana asked eagerly. “It's such a lovely instrument. I've always wanted to be able to play it.”

“Maybe one day,” Elizabeth stalled. “I can play for you when we go shopping,” she added, “if you don't mind coming to mine for dinner.”

“That would be lovely,” Ana beamed. Will was filled with affection for Elizabeth - it was just the kind of thing that Ana needed. He was all too aware that her opportunities to get out in London were limited - most of her friends were not Londoners and although there were plenty of attractions she could view, he was all too aware that there was little fun in going out on your own.

“She might poison you,” Will said, teasing Elizabeth. She glowered at him, and he smiled sweetly in return.

“Just for that you'll have to come over, too, and do my washing up,” she announced.

Will laughed. That was his Elizabeth, always ready to issue a challenge. “It will be my pleasure, ma'am,” he told her, bowing stiffly in the manner of the period dramas that Ana enjoyed watching so much.

“Yeah, well,” Elizabeth looked at him warily, “be nice. Or you'll regret it.”

Lizzy, Will thought, I could never regret any time spent with you.

“Will,” Ana said, as they drove back to Benenden at the end of half term. “How serious are things with you and Elizabeth?”

“Serious,” he replied. “Why?”

“I like her,” Ana said, simply. “She makes you happy. I haven't seen you laugh so much since… I haven't seen you laugh so much for years.” Will knew that Ana was thinking of their father and he reached over to squeeze her hand in sympathy.

“Did you have fun together yesterday?” Will asked. As promised, Elizabeth and Georgiana had met up and trawled the streets of London for bargains and Ana had returned home with enough bags to start a boutique of her own. When asked how much she'd spent, she had just laughed and Will had yet to see any change from the £100 he had sent her off with.

“It was great,” Ana said enthusiastically. “Elizabeth really knows where to find a bargain! I would never have found so many things on my own! And she's got really good taste, too.”

“That's good to hear,” Will smiled, and then continued in a teasing tone, “if she'd had awful taste would you like her less?”

Ana poked her tongue out at him and stared out of the window contemplatively. William did the same. He hated to admit it but he had missed Elizabeth's company in the past week. She had insisted that he devote his time to Ana and any time they had spent together had been in Ana's company. He was longing to kiss her. Just the thought of her made his stomach turn and not in a bad way. You're head over heals, man, he thought to himself. And that fact didn't bother him. He was thirty years old and after twelve years of hard work had finally reaped his reward professionally. But his personal life had paid the price of such dedicated training. Being called from bed at two in the morning had caused the failure of more than one relationship in the past. With Elizabeth he felt instinctively that it would not be an issue. Elizabeth was different and he was beginning to wonder if she was `the one' that Ana's romantic films and chick lit spoke of. Elizabeth was young, she was beautiful, and the world was her oyster. He wished that he knew what she thought of him. He was in grave danger of losing his heart to her, if he hadn't already.

Chapter 6 - All the things you're losing

Elizabeth woke with the sound of the telephone ringing in her ears. Groggily she reached for the cordless shrilling away on her bedside table.

“Hello?” she asked, her voice suffering from first thing in the morning syndrome.

“Hi, Elizabeth, it's Will,” Will's voice purred back at her. She smiled. As if she couldn't recognise his voice. “Just phoning to apologise for leaving so quickly last night.” He did this every time his pager interrupted their dates. No matter how much Lizzy insisted that she was only too aware of the demands of his job he still apologised profusely.

“Don't worry about it,” she insisted. “It's not like I'm not used to coming second to your pager,” she added, teasing him. “I take it mother and baby are doing okay?”

“Mother and baby are fine. A little girl, born at half past two this morning. Absolutely beautiful.”

“You say that about all of `your' babies, Will,” Elizabeth pointed out.

“Because it's true,” he insisted.

“Whatever you say, sweetness,” Elizabeth humoured him. It was wonderful to wake up to his deep baritone and even if the telephone made an almighty racket, it was still much more palatable than her alarm clock when it heralded a discussion with Dr Darcy.

“Anyway,” Will began and Elizabeth could tell from the change in his tone that he was about to challenge her. “You can't exactly say that you leave your work at the office…”

She threw a glare in the general direction of her living room, where the tell-tale case files sat on the coffee table. “Perhaps not…” she agreed reluctantly. “However,” she added, a renewed bite in her voice, “my work doesn't ring me at midnight to demand my presence.”

“Touché,” Will replied, a hint of laughter in his voice. “What are you up to today?”

“Bleugh,” Lizzy made a noise of distaste. “Don't ask,” she clarified. “Family court this morning - a couple of access cases to deal with - they should be fairly straightforward though. Then I think a new client is coming in this afternoon to talk to me about getting a divorce, or at least, that was the gist of what Emma told me. Same old, same old.”

“Sounds riveting,” William told her. “I'd better leave you to it, though. It's already half seven and if I keep you any later you'll be late.”

“Is it?!” Lizzy glanced at her alarm clock. The LED display corroborated Will's words. “Bugger. You're right, I'm going to be late. I'll speak to you later, then?”

“Yeah,” Will agreed. “Have a good day, Elizabeth. Take care.”

“And you,” she replied, reluctant to hang up on him and face another day of legal wrangling.

“Bye, Elizabeth,” Will prompted and she could hear him chuckling.

“See you later, Will.” She placed the phone back in its cradle and sighed. She couldn't help comparing Will's job satisfaction with her own day to day existence based solely on her need to meet the bills she had incurred at university. And she was one of the lucky ones; the government had paid two years worth of her fees for her. Still, she was in the business of making ends meet. Deep down Elizabeth knew that Law was not the career for her. Increasingly she grew frustrated with her caseload and the depressing existence that family law offered. With a shrug of resignation she rolled out of bed and into the shower. She didn't have time to philosophise.

“Morning Lizzy!” Emma Woodhouse, the practise secretary greeted Elizabeth when she arrived at Brandon & Dashwood's at five to nine. “Mark and Elinor are already in; we're just waiting on Marianne and the new guy.”

“New guy?” Elizabeth looked at her blankly.

“You know, the temp who's covering Harry…” Emma looked at her expectantly, and suddenly Lizzy clicked. Harry Tilney had married three weeks previously, but was only now taking his honeymoon. His wife, Cate Morland, was a popular novelist of the sci-fi genre. As understanding dawned, Emma spoke again. “George Wickham is his name.”

“I doubt I'll see him,” Lizzy told her. “I'm going to be in court all morning and then I've got appointments all afternoon. Besides, I expect he'll be busy getting up to speed with Harry's cases…”

“Well, Marianne tells me that he's cute,” Emma confided. Marianne Brandon was the practise manager, wife to Mark Brandon and sister of Elinor Dashwood, the owners. “Mind you, I don't suppose you're worried about that, eh,” she winked at Lizzy. “How are things going with your bit of stuff, then?”

“Fine,” Lizzy said, not wanting to go into details. Emma was a gossip and she had no desire for her love life to be the topic of conversation in the office for the next week, especially if there was going to be a stranger in their midst. “I'd better dash, Em - I'm due in court at half past, and I still need to get some notes.”

“Suit yourself,” Emma said, with a grin. “Good luck with the hearing, Lizzy.”

“Thanks,” Elizabeth waved. “I'm going to need it,” she added, as she entered her office.

As offices went, Elizabeth's was pretty standard. There were bookshelves full of legal literature - literature that she wished had never been written sometimes - lining three of the four walls. On the fourth there was a large notice board, dominated by a calendar on which Lizzy had scribbled various birthdays and anniversaries. There were also many notes pertaining to cases that she was working on, not to mention the folders that contained all the paperwork generated by life in a legal career.

She sighed, collecting some folders and placing them in her briefcase. She would drive to the family court and discuss issues of access with parents who had a parting of ways, then the magistrate would announce his verdict, and that would be that. Generally, on such days she spent most of her time sitting around and drinking coffee; there were always plenty of people waiting their turn with the officers of the law.

Grabbing her post on the way out, Lizzy sat in the car and turned the ignition. She generally preferred to use public transport in London, but professionally it wasn't really a viable option. She simply moved around too much. Easing into the morning traffic, she mentally considered all of the cases she was working on that day. Most of them were straight-forward enough, she decided, although it was never exhilarating to aid someone in splitting their family in two. But then, the family would split with or without her aid, she supposed. Her job was to make sure that the split was fair and that each party was protected by the law.

Three hours later, Elizabeth made a dash for the office, baguette in hand. She had spent more time in court than she had anticipated and, as a result, she was running late. It would be a working lunch for her today; she had some letters to dictate so that Emma could type them up and get them in the post that evening, and her first afternoon appointment was due at 2 o'clock. It was nearly half past one now.

Not paying much attention to where she was going - most of the office staff went out for lunch - she was jerked out of planning a letter to a client by broad masculine chest. Large hands reached out to steady her and her gaze travelled upwards to a pair of startlingly green eyes.

“I'm so sorry!” she gasped, moving away from him. “I should have been paying more attention!”

“Don't worry about it,” the man smiled, revealing boyish dimples. “You must be Miss Bennet?”

“That's me, yeah,” Elizabeth nodded. This had to be the temp that Emma had told her about. “And you must be George Wickham,” she said, offering a smile of her own.

“Guilty as charged,” he offered her his hand. She took it and noted his firm handshake, feeling vaguely discomfited as his green eyes traversed her body. Almost as if he were undressing me, she thought.

“Well, it's wonderful to meet you, Mr Wickham,” she said, eager to end this interview, “but I can't stop to chat at the moment. I've got loads to do before Mrs Johnson arrives this afternoon and I still haven't had any lunch!”

“The life of a solicitor, eh,” Wickham laughed. “You must call me George,” he added, “ as we'll be working together.”

“Sure,” Lizzy nodded. “In that case, I mostly go by Lizzy. I really do have to dash, though.”

“See you later then,” he moved out of her way and she practically fell into her office with relief.

So that was George Wickham. Tall, dark and undeniably handsome, with those unusual eyes; no doubt he thought that women were his for the taking - especially if the way he looked at her was anything to go by. But she didn't trust him, for all that. His overt ogling did nothing to endear him to her, and she couldn't help but contrast the shrewd gleam of his eyes with the gentle warmth of Will's gaze. Nevertheless, Wickham was going to be working with them for at least a month - Harry and Cate were off on a cruise - so she would have to make the best of things.

Shaking all thoughts of Wickham from her mind, she turned her attention to her Dictaphone. With a sigh, she began dictating…

“Further to your letter, dated 6th March, I am writing to inform you…” she paused to take a bite of her baguette, thinking as she did so. She hated working lunches and much preferred to take an hour away from the gloom of the office but sometimes it simply wasn't possible. Shrugging in resignation, she returned to her letters and remained occupied until Emma called her on the internal phone to announce that Mrs Johnson had arrived.

Thursday evening found Lizzy surveying the contents of her wardrobe. There wasn't really any need to worry about what she would wear - they were only going to Jane's after all - but she should still make an effort. Besides, she had no desire to dine with her sister wearing her work suit. She would feel conspicuous, up against Jane's very feminine beauty. Jane, the illustrator. Jane who had followed her dream, and met Charles Bingley in the process. If ever you needed proof of `happily ever after' you need only look at the Bingleys. Not that Jane didn't deserve her happiness, quite the contrary. But Elizabeth couldn't help comparing her own lot with her sisters, wondering whether her future held as much happiness as Jane's did.

If she was being strictly honest, she would have thrown on any old thing for dinner but for the fact that Will was taking her. Prior to Will she had thought nothing of arriving at Jane's in her oldest jeans and baggiest sweatshirt. She wanted to make the most of herself for Will, though, because William Darcy did things to her. She could see the admiration in his eyes when he took in her form and unlike the leering of Bill Collins or George Wickham, it was admiration for herself and not for her endowments.

Smiling at the thought of Will's appreciation, she made her selection. Nothing too exciting, just a skirt and jumper, but more sophisticated than her Cambridge University hoodie, something that she still wore on a regular basis. Humming to herself, she pulled on her clothes and then combed out messy chestnut curls, wincing every time the comb hit a tangle. When she was finally satisfied with her shiny tresses, she twisted them into a messy bun at the back of her head and jammed ornate chopsticks through it to secure it in place. Giving her reflection a satisfied grin, she moved to the living room to await her knight in shining armour. Picking up a Fiona Walker book - Lizzy was always happy to read Chick Lit - she settled into the large armchair, Haydn on her knee. So engrossed was she in her story that the chiming of the doorbell made her jump in surprise.

“Hello, beautiful,” Will said and gave her one of his trademark smiles, the type that made her insides feel mushy. He bent to kiss her, his lips gentling her own, warm and firm. It wasn't a chaste kiss - they had moved beyond that now - but neither was it a kiss of passion. Rather it was a kiss of companionship. For all that, Lizzy knew instinctively that Will would happily give her the kissing of her life, should she wish that. Without his saying anything, she was acutely aware of the fact that he was going slowly with her, allowing her to feel her way into the relationship.

“Hi, hon,” she smiled at him, running her tongue over her bottom lip self-consciously, wondering if the kind of thoughts she was entertaining about him were normal. For two pennies she would abandon the courtship dance they had initiated in favour of the double bed in her room. Then she shook her head; such thoughts were dangerous. Will was attractive, yes, and she was fond of him. But did she love him? It was far too soon for her to say. “I'll just get my bag and then we can be off,” she said, disappearing into the kitchen as she did so. Her insulin was in the fridge and she couldn't go to dinner without it. When she re-emerged he was settled on the settee, deep in conversation with her cat.

“Are you ready?” he asked. She nodded. He abandoned his position and met her at the door, offering his arm companionably. “Best be off then,” he smiled. “No doubt Jane and Charles will be waiting.”

“And Caroline,” Lizzy added, grimacing. Why Jane had seen fit to invite her sister-in-law to dinner Lizzy did not know; it was no secret that Elizabeth and Caroline did not get on. Nevertheless, for Jane's sake she would not make a scene. She just hoped that Caroline would be equally polite, although given that Charles' sister had been eyeing Will up for as long as anyone could remember it was highly unlikely that she would allow dinner to pass without comment.

“Ah, Caroline,” Will rolled his eyes.

“You realise she'll be insufferable, don't you?” Lizzy asked, slipping her fingers through his.

“She usually is,” Will agreed.

“She'll be even worse today,” Elizabeth insisted, “if I arrive with you.”

“Which you will,” Will pointed out, squeezing her hand. “Caroline will get over it, Elizabeth. She's a big girl now.”

“A big girl who has her heart set on Pemberley,” Lizzy countered. “And you know she doesn't approve of me.”

“Well, I do,” Will said firmly. “So it doesn't matter what Caroline thinks”

Together they descended to the underground station, paying for a ticket to Earls Court and waiting for the automated voice to announce `Please Mind the Gap' so that they might board the carriage. Once they were comfortably ensconced in the - mercifully fairly quiet - tube train, Elizabeth returned to their previous topic of conversation.

“I wonder what possessed Jay to invite Caroline this evening,” she mused. “She doesn't normally expect the two of us to make polite conversation.”

“Can't your sister invite people to a dinner party without you questioning her motives?” Will teased. “Remember, Caroline is Charles' sister. Perhaps he invited her.”

“I suppose,” Lizzy looked doubtful. “Mind you, Charles knows that Caroline doesn't like me, though goodness only knows why.”

“She's jealous,” Will said, as if it was the most obvious explanation in the world. “That's why she's always so keen to look down her nose at you…and at Jane.”

“But that's ridiculous!” Elizabeth looked at him in shock. “What's to be jealous of? Okay, so Jane married her brother...why should she be jealous of that? And she's ten times richer than I am and fully established on the A-List.”

“But she's half as pretty, half as intelligent and ten times less interesting than you and she knows it,” Will told her. “She feels threatened by you…you're not intimidated by her wealth or social standing; there's no way for her to even the playing field. You're successful, Elizabeth. You have a Cambridge degree to prove it and Caroline would kill for one of those. But a place at Cambridge is one thing that her money can't buy and she never worked hard enough to have a hope of going there. And then you came along, a mere slip of a girl, and you have everything that Caroline can only dream of.”

“And you,” Elizabeth pointed out, shyly.

“And me,” Will agreed, smiling at her.

“I'd better put my suit of armour on, then,” Lizzy said, only half joking. “She'll be sharpening her claws on me tonight.”

“Just be nice to her, Elizabeth,” Will said. “She's not so very bad, really.”

“If you say so,” Lizzy said, dubiously. “Might I remind you of the time-”

“No, you may not,” he said, putting an arm around her. “Oh, I know that I'm the first to disappear if Caroline is in the vicinity, but at heart she's lonely. Her father was never interested in her, you know. That's why she's so obsessed with being loved and getting married. She needs a man to accept her.”

“Sad, really,” Elizabeth frowned, wondering if any of her clients' children felt that way. “I'll try to be nice, Will, though it would be easier if she was pleasant to me.”

“Good for you,” he said, squeezing her close. “Jane will appreciate it, I know.”

“Good old Jay,” Elizabeth grinned. “Always ready to see the best in people. I believe she feels sorry for Caroline.”

“And so she should,” Will announced. “She has everything that Caroline wants.” He was interrupted by the automated voice, so much a part of the London experience. “And now we're here. Come along, Miss Bennet, no time for dawdling.”

Lizzy threw back her head and laughed. She was lucky, she mused, to have friends like Will and a sister like Jane. Without them she could very easily have ended up as lonely as Caroline evidently was. There were plenty of blessings for Elizabeth Bennet to be thankful for, she decided, as she linked arms with Will for the short walk to her sister's townhouse.

“Lizzy!” Jane threw her arms around her sister as though it had been months since they had last seen each other, when in fact it was only a matter of days. “You look lovely! What's the occasion?” she teased, and Lizzy poked her tongue out in mock indignation. “Hiya, Will,” Jane added, standing on tiptoes to kiss his cheek. Lizzy watched and wondered how her sister could be so tall when she was so short.

“Hullo, Jane,” Will smiled, and returned the kiss. “Good to see you. Where's that husband of yours?”

“He's in the living room with Caroline,” Jane told him. “Do you want a drink, Will?”

“I'll have a coffee, if you're offering,” he smiled. “I'm on duty tonight,” he added, explaining away his decision not to partake in the wine that usually preceded dinner in the Bingley household.

“Lizzy?” Jane looked at her sister expectantly.

“A drink would be good,” Elizabeth said, “something very alcoholic would be even better…”

“Bad day?” Jane asked, sympathetically.

“You could say that,” Lizzy agreed wryly. “Why did I go into family law, again?”

“Goodness only knows,” Jane laughed. “Come on, sis, come and help me with the drinks and forget all about work for the time being. Plenty of time to worry about people's divorces tomorrow!”

Lizzy smiled and followed her sister into the kitchen. She was glad that Jane was happy and glad that things had worked out for her and Charles Bingley. It had been hit and miss for a while; Charles' family had not approved of Jane at all, had wanted him to marry a society girl. But Charles loved Jane and none of his sisters' objections could change that.

“How are things, then, Lizbet?” Jane asked, when they were alone in the kitchen. “In love with Will yet?” she teased.

“Oh, hush, Jay! We can't all have your luck!”

“Luck has nothing to do with it,” Jane insisted. “It's fate. And you and Will are perfect for each other.”

“Don't push, Jay,” Lizzy warned her sister. “Things with Will are good. I like him. A lot. But it's early days, yet.”

“I just want you to be as happy as I am, Lizzy,” Jane insisted, a slightly apologetic note in her voice. “I don't mean to be pushy.”

“Heaven only knows, Mum is pushy enough for all of us!” Lizzy laughed. “I promise you that should I ever reach the roses-around-the-door stage you'll be the first to know!”

“That's all right, then,” Jane said, offering Elizabeth a glass of wine. “Get that down you! And will you take Caroline's as well? I've got a glass for Charles and Will's coffee.”

“Nothing for you, Jay?”

“I've got an orange juice in the living room,” Jane smiled.

Through the open door of the living room they could hear Caroline Bingley fawning over Will. Elizabeth grimaced at Jane who merely raised a warning eyebrow, a silent admonition to `be nice'. Lizzy winked at her sister and then entered the room.

“Evening Charles, Caroline,” she said, noticing that Caroline had contrived to sit next to Will on the two-seater.

“Good evening, Eliza,” Caroline said, wrinkling her nose slightly as she took in Elizabeth's attire. Naturally, she looked a million dollars, literally, dressed in Armani from top to toe. In fairness to Caroline she was actually a very attractive woman: tall and slim with a well-formed figure and Elizabeth was surprised that she didn't have men knocking her door down. Then again, knowing Caroline, she probably did have men knocking the door down, she simply wasn't interested in any man other than Dr William Darcy.

“Hiya, Lizzy!” Charles beamed at her. “You're looking ravishing, as always!”

“Flatterer,” Lizzy laughed. “How are you, bro?” She had taken to referring to her brother-in-law as `bro' purely to irritate his sisters and the label had stuck.

“I'm great! Never better!”

“And you, Caroline?” Lizzy turned to Jane's sister-in-law politely. “How have you been? It's been a while…”

“I've been busy,” Caroline said, her mouth a moue of dislike. “Breast Cancer Care is having a champagne reception to raise funds in a fortnight…” Caroline worked for the charity making the most of her social contacts to raise money for research into the disease. It was one of the few things that Lizzy admired about her.

“That sounds interesting,” Will said, giving Caroline a smile.

“Oh, it will be wonderful,” Caroline enthused. “We've got a wonderful caterer booked; there's talk of the BBC giving him a contract for one of their celebrity cook programmes…”

“I often wonder how you manage to raise money at these things,” Charles pondered. “It seems that you spend a fortune putting them on!”

“Oh, Charles!” Caroline rolled her eyes. “People pay for their tickets, and some of them will make donations. The ticket fee more than covers the expenses. I've told you that before.”

“So you have,” Charles said, scratching his head. “Sorry, Caroline.”

Caroline waved a dismissive hand and fixed Elizabeth with a glare.

“How about you, Eliza? What have you been doing with yourself?”

“Working, mostly,” Elizabeth admitted. “Divorce, access, neighbour disputes... It brings in the pennies.”

“Indeed.” Caroline looked down her nose at Elizabeth. Lizzy supposed that she had never had to worry about bringing in pennies; her trust fund saw to that. Fortunately she was saved from the necessity of replying by the shrilling of the oven timer.

“That's dinner ready,” Jane announced. “Why don't you all go and get yourselves seated while I serve up?”

“Are you sure you don't want any help?” Lizzy asked.

“It's fine, Lizzy,” Jane insisted, shooing them towards the dining room. “I won't be long.”

“Must be a special occasion,” Lizzy teased. Usually they ate in the Bingleys' kitchen. “I'm just nipping to the loo… I'll be with you in a minute.”

By the time she returned Jane had placed dishes of roasted vegetables on the warmers in the middle of the table and the scent of roasted lamb filled the air.

“Smells good, Jay,” Lizzy smiled as she sat down.

”Doesn't it just,” Will agreed. Lizzy turned to face him - he was seated to her left - and pulled a face.

“I note that you don't make comments about food poisoning at my sister's table,” she said in mock dudgeon.

“Jane's a good cook,” he replied.

“Meaning that I'm not, I suppose,” she challenged, eyes flashing.

“I never said that,” he replied, mildly.

“I'm sure Will was just joking, Lizzy,” Jane said, ever the peacemaker. “And don't sit there looking at everything,” she added, “tuck in!”

There was a clinking of china and cutlery as the diners helped themselves to what was on offer. Lizzy helped herself to a generous portion of potatoes; nobody made them quite like Jane. Once everyone was served, conversation began once again.

“You really should get a cook, Jane,” Caroline said. “There's no need for you to slave over the oven all day.”

“I like cooking,” Jane replied, mildly. “It's no bother.”

“Have some wine, Jay?” Elizabeth asked her sister, waving a bottle of red in over Jane's glass.

“No thanks,” Jane placed her hand over her glass in a gesture of refusal. “I'll stick to water tonight.”

“Are you feeling okay?” Lizzy teased. “Jane Bennet, refusing a good vintage? What is the world coming to?”

“Jane Bingley,” Charles corrected, raising an eyebrow at his wife and smiling.

“What's with the cryptic looks?” Lizzy demanded. “You're no good at keeping secrets, Jay…” She looked at her sister expectantly. Jane's cheeks pinked prettily and she smiled.

“We were going to tell you after dinner,” she hedged.

“Tell us what exactly?” Caroline demanded.

“Weeelll…” Jane paused to beam at Charles. “This time in September there'll be another Bingley at the table…”

“Louisa's coming back from Australia?” Caroline looked at Charles strangely. “But we all knew that!”

“I don't think that's what Jay means, Caroline,” Lizzy said, a smile splitting her face in two. “Is it, Charles?”

“Not at all,” Charles beamed. “Jane and I are having a baby, Caroline,” he added. “You're going to be an auntie!”

“Congratulations!” Lizzy squealed, all thoughts of wine and potatoes leaving her mind. “I'm going to be an auntie!”

“Auntie Lizbet has quite a ring to it, I think,” Jane teased.

”So when's it due?” Lizzy demanded.

“Beginning of September, I think,” Jane said, looking at Will for confirmation.

“About the sixth,” he confirmed, causing Lizzy to look at him in astonishment.

“You knew?” she asked incredulously. “You knew and you didn't tell me?”

“Patient confidentiality,” he shrugged.

“Hrmph,” Lizzy said, grudgingly accepting his explanation. “I can't believe you told him before me!” she complained.

“We didn't want to raise your hopes if I wasn't…” Jane said, shrugging. “You are pleased, though, aren't you Lizzy?”

“Oh, ecstatic,” Lizzy grinned. “Congratulations, you two! Now I get to go and shop for baby things!”

“Are you pleased, Caroline?” Will asked. Caroline was sitting looking slightly flummoxed by everything.

“Of course,” she said, sounding a bit dazed. “Charles as a father?! The mind boggles!”

“Cheeky,” Charles winked at his younger sister, causing Elizabeth to smile. At least Caroline wasn't making any disparaging remarks about the child's maternal heritage.

“What would you like?” Elizabeth asked. “A boy or a girl?”

“As long as the baby is healthy, I don't really mind,” Jane smiled.

“Oh, a little boy would be better,” Caroline said. “Someone to carry on the Bingley name…”

“I wouldn't object to a daughter,” Charles offered. “A little girl, just like her mother.”

“You do realize that the child might favour you, Charles?” Elizabeth asked, quirking an eyebrow. “

“Yes,” Caroline insisted. “A little boy, just like his father. That's how it works.”

“I hate to disillusion you, Caroline, but that's not how it works at all,” Elizabeth pointed out. “Sure, the kid might be like Charles, or it might be like Jane, or - perish the thought - it might resemble you or me!”

“Well, I hope for a baby boy in Charles' image,” Caroline maintained. “And you must call him after Grandfather, Charles. Edward Bingley.”

Lizzy wondered just who was having the baby. Who gave Caroline the right to make such declarations?

”We haven't thought about names yet,” Jane said, giving Lizzy a warning look. “Edward is very nice, though, thank you, Caroline.” Lizzy shook her head. How did Jane manage to be so nice?

“Have you told Mum and Dad, Jay?” she asked, anxious to move away from the baby's sex and name.

“Not yet,” Jane admitted. “We wanted you to be the first to know.”

“No doubt your father would like a grandson,” Caroline suggested. “After all, he's been a man alone in a houseful of women for too long…”

“I believe Mr Bennet is rather fond of his daughters, Caroline,” Will jumped in to diffuse a potentially volatile situation. Lizzy was thankful for his interruption; left to her own devices she would have been much more scathing.

“Yes, but men like to have sons, don't they, William, dear,” Caroline stuck to her point tenaciously.

“Children are all equally precious,” Will insisted, “be they boy or girl. No doubt Mr and Mrs Bennet will be delighted about the baby, Jane. I know I've said this already, but I'm really happy for you.”

“Thank you,” Jane smiled at him gratefully. “Now eat up, all of you! We don't want things to get cold!”

“I can't believe that you knew about the baby and didn't say a word!” Lizzy exclaimed, much later. After leaving the Bingleys' they had returned to her flat and were standing in the kitchen waiting for the kettle to boil.

“It wasn't my place to give Jane's news away,” he replied, coming to stand behind her. “You're pleased for them, though?”

“Of course,” Lizzy shrugged. “I hadn't anticipated being an Auntie quite this soon, but I know it's what Jay and Charles wanted. They'll be good parents.”

“They will,” Will agreed. “Mind you, with four younger sisters I daresay Jane's had plenty of practise at mothering people!”

“Jane was born maternal,” Lizzy laughed. “She'll be a great Mummy. At least their children won't have to sit through access proceedings…” She sighed, thinking that the evening would have to end soon. Both of them had work tomorrow morning.

“ No,” Will agreed, slowly. He turned her around so that she was facing him. “Elizabeth…”

”Yes?”

”Why do you stay at Brandon & Dashwood's? You don't get any satisfaction from your work there…”

“Says who?” Lizzy asked, warily.

“It's obvious,” he told her. “You dread going to work in the morning and you come home stressed in the evenings. And you're obsessed with the idea that all relationships will fail and that having children is asking for trouble!”

“That's not true at all!” Lizzy shook her head.

“Isn't it?” Will challenged. “Then why, when you should be over the moon for your sister, are you thinking about access cases?”

“It's my job to think about access cases!” Lizzy pointed out. “It's not like you don't think about babies and pregnant women!”

“In this instance, that's justifiable, don't you think?” Will demanded. “Your sister is, after all, pregnant. And that's just the point…I don't think about my work all the time. And when I do think about it, I don't get depressed. You don't see me worrying that every patient I ever see will have a miscarriage!”

“That's completely different!” Lizzy exclaimed. “I can't believe that you're comparing our jobs!”

“It's exactly what you're doing, Elizabeth!” Will shot back. “You wrap yourself up in other people's misery, day in, day out, and it's killing you!”

“Oh, so we're back to that, are we?” Elizabeth's voice was cold. “Other people's misery…”

“Oh, for God's sake, Elizabeth, I didn't mean it like that!” Will slammed his fist down on the table in frustration, causing Lizzy to jump and recoil.

“I think you'd better go,” she said, softly, eyeing him warily.

“That is exactly my point!” Will said, exasperation evident. “I am not going to beat you, woman! I'm not like that, but your damn job makes you think that all men are imbeciles!”

“No,” Elizabeth insisted. “That's not true at all.”

“Isn't it?” Will demanded. “Then why are you scared of me, all of a sudden?”

“I'm not,” Lizzy told him. It was a lie; she had heard of too many wives in exactly this situation who had ended up in Casualty.

“You are!” he maintained. “You don't trust anyone! You're letting your work consume your life! You've got a degree in languages, Elizabeth! Make the most of it: translate books for people, answer phones, travel the world… Anything but live a life where you're scared of what taking a few risks with your heart might do!”

“Where the hell did that come from?” Elizabeth demanded.

“It's the truth, Elizabeth,” he said, softly. “You decided to go into law because your mother told you to, isn't that what you told me. You wanted to travel the world, but your father had been ill, so you changed your whole life plan because you were scared of what would happen to him.”

“Do you blame me for that?” she asked, anger flashing in her eyes.

”No,” he said, holding her gaze with his own. “Not at all. But there are plenty of jobs for a linguist in Britain, Elizabeth. Jobs that don't involve dealing with other people's dirty washing. You said to me that you weren't sure it was justified to have children because there were so many who were neglected in the world. Told me you saw too many broken homes in your line of work… But you are not your clients, Elizabeth Bennet. And if you can't leave your work at the office then perhaps it isn't the best job for you…”

“From the man who disappears in the wee hours regularly,” she shot back. “And who are you to be telling me what I should and shouldn't do?”

“I care about you Elizabeth. You're on a path to self-destruction. You see the potential for discontent in every situation. You go to weddings and think about divorce; to births and think about access. That's not right. You can't even think about having your own family because you're so caught up in a world where nothing works out. But things do work out. Jane and Charles are happy together. Your parents are happy together. My parents were happy together to the extent that my father was heartbroken when my mother died. Maggie and Gregor Giles still worship the ground the other walks on even after forty years of married life. Makes you think, doesn't it?”

Elizabeth looked at him, seeing a myriad of emotions on his face, feeling all at once angry and drained, tired, fed up. She was not equipped to have this argument, and he should never have brought it up.

“I should probably go now,” Will broke into her thoughts, his tone resigned. “Take care, Elizabeth.” He walked towards the front door, pausing before leaving. “I love you.”

Elizabeth stood and stared at the door long after it had closed. That was it? He told her that everything she did was bad for her, said goodbye as if it were forever, and then announced that he loved her? You are playing with my mind, William Darcy, and I don't like it, she thought, mutinously.

Much later she lay in bed listening to the radio, trying to establish what Will had meant. It seemed a peculiar way to argue; they had hardly raised their voices, and he had left telling her that he loved her. But something told her that there was more to Will's comment than met the eye.

The devil's in the dreaming
He tells you I'm not sleeping in my hotel room alone
With nothing to believe in
You dive into the traffic rising up and it's so quiet
You're surprised and then you wake

Was he right? Was she destined to spend the rest of her life alone because she couldn't trust people? But that was ridiculous; she trusted plenty of people. Regardless of what Will said, she trusted him. She did.

For all the things you're losing
You might as well resign yourself to try and make a change
I'm going down to Hollywood
They're gonna make a movie from the things that they find
Crawling round my brain

She looked at the radio in confusion; the song just about summed up her state of mind. She was confused, that much was more than apparent. And Will seemed to be suggesting that she came with more baggage than a British Airways flight.

I wish I was a girl so that you could believe me
And I could shake this static everytime I try to sleep
I wish for all the world that I could say,
"Hey Elizabeth, you know, I'm doing alright these days."

Elizabeth jerked at the sound of her name; what was this, some kind of mystic karma or something? She was just fine, thank you very much, and Will was completely mad if he thought that her work was a problem. He was probably just frustrated because he hadn't managed to get inside her pants yet…

The devil's in the dreaming
You see yourself descending from a building to the ground
You watch the sky receding
You spin to see the traffic rising up and it's so quiet
You're surprised and then you wake

In the quiet of the night, Elizabeth shook her head. It was unfair to think that; Will had never pressured her to do anything that she didn't want to, and there had been something in his eyes when he had announced that he loved her, something that made her believe him.

For all the things I'm losing
I might as well resign myself to try and make a change
But I'm going down to Hollywood
They're gonna make a movie from the things that they find
Crawling round my brain

Had she lost Will, then? Was that it - one argument and bam! He was out of her life? She shook her head, willing away the tears that seemed to be welling up in her eyes. Why did the prospect of life without Will scare her? Had he really become that central to her existence?

I wish I was a girl so that you could believe me
And I could shake this static every time I try to sleep
I wish for all the world that I could say,
"Hey Elizabeth, you know, I'm doing alright these days."

He'd been right, she acknowledged to the dimly lit room. She hated her job, and it didn't take a genius to work that out. She hated spending all of her time worrying about other people's problems, dealing with society's misfits. She couldn't jack it all in, though, could she? What would she do if she didn't practice law?

In one of these dreams, you forgive me
It makes me think of the bad decisions that keep you at home
How could anyone else have changed?
All these wrong conclusions that leave you alone
How could everyone rearrange?
How could everyone else have changed?
What I see I believe

She thought of her sister and brother-in-law, expecting a new life. She thought of Caroline, who drove her mad but did something of worth for society, something that she enjoyed. Mostly, though, she thought of Will. Will, who saw babies safely into the world, who mourned the babies that might have been, who helped women no matter how trivial their ailment might seem. Will, who loved his job, whose smile of delight after each birth lit up the world around him. She compared the brightness of his day to the darkness of her own. And then she cried.

For all the things I'm losing
I might as well resign myself to try and make a change
Well, I'm going down to Hollywood
They're gonna make a movie from the things that they find
Crawling around my brain

I wish I was a girl so that you could believe me
And I could shake this static everytime I try to sleep
I wish for all the world that I could say,
"Hey Elizabeth, you know, I'm doing alright these days."

But I can't sleep at night
I can't sleep at night
I can't sleep at night
I can't sleep at night

Chapter 7 - Sorry Seems to be the Hardest Word

Will closed the door behind him and then leaned his head against the wall. He had not planned to corner Elizabeth like that, but somehow, when she had commented about access proceedings after talking about Jane and Charles' baby he had just flipped. It was not right that she should be thinking in that way. And, much as he cared about her - loved her - he couldn't stay in a relationship with her until she realised that her attitude to her job was unhealthy.

Slowly, he walked down the stairs and hailed a black cab. The driver engaged in mindless conversation talking about everything and nothing in particular. Will listened but he did not hear the driver's words. Instead he thought of Elizabeth's face when he had given in to his frustration and hit the table in frustration. It hurt that she thought he was capable of domestic violence and only fuelled his belief that she was not suited to her profession.

He was thankful when he arrived home to be able to fall into bed. It had been foolish to tell Elizabeth that he loved her, but it had slipped out somehow. Elizabeth didn't believe in love, he was convinced of it. But he had hoped that she was softening towards him; their time together at Pemberley and with Ana had suggested to him that she was becoming reconciled to romance. Her reaction to his words suggested otherwise, though. Wearily he resolved to let things be for the time being, and fell asleep with a worried frown on his forehead.

At breakfast the next morning it must have been apparent that he was not in the best of spirits for Kate wheeled out all of his favourite dishes in an attempt to cheer him up. Her efforts had dubious success but he appreciated the gesture.

“Are you okay, William?” Kate asked, noticing his dark countenance. “You seem worried.”

“I think I may have done something utterly stupid last night,” he admitted, knowing better than to beat about the bush where Kate was concerned. “I told Elizabeth to give up her job.”

“You what?!” Kate looked at him incredulously.

“She didn't take it very well,” he sighed. “Don't look at me like that, Kate! I didn't say `Elizabeth, you must give up your job!' I simply told her that I felt she wasn't best suited to it. And if you'd been there you'd probably have agreed with me.”

“Yes, but to actually say it to her! No wonder she was upset!” Kate scolded him. “You'd best make up with her, Will. You'll be miserable until you do.”

“But that's the point, Kate. We can't go any further with our relationship until she accepts that some of what I had to say was true!”

“William, people often don't take kindly to things that they see the truth in. Let Miss Bennet make her own decisions about her career. Be patient with the child.”

“She's hardly a child, Kate!” Will complained.

“Maybe not,” Kate looked at him over her spectacles, “but she is a lot younger than you, Will. Try to remember what it was like to be twenty. You've had years to decide what you want from life. Miss Bennet has barely had time to even consider the matter.” She squeezed his shoulder encouragingly. “Now then, eat up!” she told him. “You'll be late, otherwise, and that would never do!”

Will smiled at Kate's retreating figure acknowledging the wisdom of her words. He had pushed Elizabeth too far last night; whilst it was frustrating for him to watch her fall into the downward spiral of a job that she hated ultimately the decision to change careers lay with her alone. He wouldn't have been too impressed if she had suggested that he give up obstetrics because it interfered with the time they spent together, after all. Of course, his motivation in saying something hadn't been that shallow, but it was still something that he ought to have thought about before opening his big mouth. They never have this problem in films, he thought, ruefully, as he knotted his tie.

If Will had hoped that the pressure of work would take his mind off of things then he was vastly mistaken. It had not helped that one of his patients had developed gestational diabetes. It was a relatively common condition, nothing to cause him too much concern, but it reminded him painfully of Elizabeth. She had begun to trust him, he thought, and then he had gone and blown it all with an ill timed comment. By the time lunchtime arrived he was only too ready for a break, and regretted that he had agreed yesterday to meet up with Charles for lunch. Charles would remind him of Elizabeth, something he could well do without at the current time.

Nevertheless, his sense of duty meant that he arrived at the Italian restaurant at the appointed hour and scanned the reception area for his friend. Typically there was no sign of Charles; he was invariably late for everything, something that Will's punctual soul found highly irritating. He settled down on one of the settees provided for those waiting for a table, and studied the menu to while away the time. It was not long before Charles breezed in, bright eyed, bushy tailed and irritatingly happy.

“Will!” the blonde man clapped his hand enthusiastically. “Excellent, you're already here. Shall we get a table, then?”

“Might be an idea. I don't have long, Charles.”

“You never do,” Charles pointed out, with a smile for the waitress who led them to a secluded table in the corner. “And I thought I was supposed to be the big time executive!”

“That means you can pick and choose your hours,” Will pointed out dryly. “I, on the other hand, am at the mercy of the NHS.”

“So you are, and good for you. Jane and I are ever so pleased that you're her obstetrician. Very comforting, knowing about your doctor.”

“Yes,” Will nodded, hoping that Charles did not intend to discuss his pending fatherhood all through lunch. He had enough of that at work, and he wasn't sure he could muster up the appropriate level of enthusiasm after the dramas of yesterday. Then he chastised himself; Charles deserved to be happy.

“I can't believe it, you know,” Charles continued. “One minute Jane and I are getting engaged, the next we've got a baby on the way. Hard to believe all the problems we had this time last year!”

“I'm pleased for you,” Will assured him. “You'll make a great father.”

“Thank you!” Charles beamed. “And what about you, Will?” He raised an eyebrow. “When can we expect the sound of baby Darcys? You're older than me, after all.”

“It takes two people to make a child, Charles, as you well know,” Will pointed out.

“I thought things looked pretty serious between you and Lizzy,” Charles said, looking perplexed.

“I'm serious about her,” Will admitted. “But I don't think she feels the same way.”

“You've got to be joking, Will! I've seen how she looks at you! I know Lizzy's stubborn and everything, but good God, man! The woman adores you!”

“No, she adored me, if what you're saying is true,” Will said, glumly.

“What?” Charles looked bemused. Will couldn't blame him; he felt the same.

“Elizabeth and I had words,” Will explained. “I don't think she'll be wanting children with me any time in the near future.”

“Well, make up, then! You two are made for each other!” Charles narrowed his eyes at Will. “You haven't hurt her, have you, because if you have, I swear…”

“Charles!” Will looked at him. “Is that what you think of me? I simply told Elizabeth that I didn't think she was getting much from her choice of career and that perhaps she might benefit from considering an alternative occupation.”

“Is that all? Jane tells her that all the time! What's the problem?”

“Jane is her sister, Charles. She can say things like that, but they'll still be sisters. I cannot claim that level of familiarity. It seems that Elizabeth didn't appreciate what I had to say.”

“Well, I can't blame her,” Charles mused. “She's very touchy about it, even with Jane. And I know what you're like, Will. You can be rather…forceful…when the mood is upon you.”

“Thank you for your support,” Will said wryly, smiling his thanks as their waitress placed a plate of spaghetti in front of him.

“You look like it's the end of the world, and it shouldn't be,” Charles continued. “Lizzy's reasonable; she has to be. She is a solicitor you know. Just apologise for butting in. I'm sure she'll understand.”

“Is it really that simple?”

“I don't see why not,” Charles said, eyeing his own meal appreciatively. “I mean, you might have to beg a bit, obviously,” he added absently. “Lizzy can hold grudges when the mood is on her. But I expect she'll be okay; she's already overcome hating you once!”

“You're filling me with confidence,” Will glared.

“Ah, it's my duty as her brother to make things awkward for you,” Charles smiled. “Personally, I expect that she'll welcome you with open arms. Like I say, she's head over heels with you, she just doesn't realise it.”

“How on earth do you know that?” Will demanded.

“Jane says so,” Charles replied, smugly. “And she would know.”

Indeed she would, Will mused. Perhaps the situation wasn't quite as dire as he had first thought.

The problem with apologising, Will decided that evening was that there was no simple way to do so. It was all well and good saying that a simple `Sorry' would suffice, but it wasn't exactly the most romantic of gestures. He sighed and idly flipped through his parents' collection of LPs. Selecting one at random, he put it in the record player. He found listening to music his parents' loved soothing; it made him feel closer to them, if that was possible.

He sat at his desk and let the music of the 70's and 80's wash over him, feeling himself relax as he did so. A flash of white caught his eye, and he realised that it was the napkin Elizabeth had written her number on for him. It seemed like it was forever since that magical night when they had first talked, and yet it was actually only 3 months. Three amazing months, and now he was back where he started.

“Nice going, Will,” he muttered to himself, slumping in his chair in defeat.

A distinctive piano melody caused him to pay attention to the music flooding for the room, and he was transported back twenty years or so.

What have I got to do to make you love me
What have I got to do to make you care
What do I do when lightning strikes me
And I wake to find that you're not there

His parents had fought occasionally, he remembered. Their fights were never loud, nor particularly vocal, and they never lasted particularly long, but always, after reconciling, they played this song. He had always wondered at the significance of it. After his mother died he had even spoken to his father about it, but George Darcy had simply smiled a secret smile and refused to say anything other than that it was special to them. As he paid attention to the words, Will realised that they were all too appropriate for his current situation.

What do I do to make you want me
What have I got to do to be heard
What do I say when it's all over
And sorry seems to be the hardest word

It was true, he realised, that `sorry' was one of those words that people couldn't stand to say. Misplaced pride, an inability to admit that you were wrong ultimately resulted in further heartache. He had meant what he said to Elizabeth - he truly believed that she would be happier working in a non-legal career - but he was sorry that he had upset her with his arguments, and he acknowledged that he hadn't been exactly tactful about presenting them to her.

It's sad, so sad
It's a sad, sad situation
And it's getting more and more absurd
It's sad, so sad
Why can't we talk it over
Oh it seems to me
That sorry seems to be the hardest word

It was ridiculous, Will acknowledged, to sit around and try to formulate some romantic way of saying sorry. The longer he left it, the harder apologising would be. As Charles had said, Elizabeth was a reasonable person. If he just explained to her then surely they would be able to work something out. Certainly there was no point in torturing himself about something that he could not change.

As the song faded out, Will picked up the telephone, and listened to the dialling tone. He was about to dial Elizabeth's number when he realised that it was the coward's way out. He wanted to apologise face to face. It was important to strike whilst the iron was still hot, so he put his coat on, grabbed his keys and left the house, slamming the front door behind him.

Will had every intention of apologising to Elizabeth that very evening. Sadly, fate conspired against him. When he arrived at her flat it was ominously dark. He did try ringing the doorbell, but it because patently obvious that Elizabeth was not in, or if she was, she was not answering the door. Will looked at the flowers he was holding and sighed. Back to Plan A. The only problem was, he hadn't entirely worked out Plan A before moving on to Plan B.

By the time he arrived back home, Will had reached a conclusion. He needed help. And as Kate couldn't provide him with anything more substantial than “apologise, and be quick about it” he would have to turn elsewhere. He dialled the Bingleys' number.

“Hello?”

“Hi Jane, it's Will,” he announced.

“Ah, Will. I was just thinking about you…”

“You were?”

“My little sister phoned me this morning,” Jane elaborated.

“Oh.”

“`Oh' would be right,” Jane continued, and for the first time he could hear the bite in her tone. “She's rather upset, and I gather you're the cause…”

“I'm sorry, Jane. I didn't mean to upset her. That's why I'm phoning, actually. I wondered if you knew where she was - I tried calling at the flat but she wasn't in.”

“No, she wouldn't be,” Jane told him. “She's been asked to play in a concert with a Symphony Orchestra - a favour for a friend - rather short notice, actually, so she's going off to Kent for the weekend. She's coming back to London on Monday.”

“Oh.” Will didn't really know what to say to that. It rather ruined Plan A.

“You're becoming rather monosyllabic, Will,” Jane teased, and he gave a sigh of relief. Evidently Mrs Bingley was back on his side.

“Well, I'm a bit stuck as to what to do,” he admitted.

“You could try phoning her,” Jane suggested.

“She'd hang up on me. You know what she's like.”

“True. What are you doing next Sunday?”

“Next Sunday?” Will didn't think he could wait that long.

“Well, that's when she's next free. She's supposed to be going on a course next week, hasn't she told you?”

Now that Jane mentioned it, Will remembered Elizabeth mentioning that she would be away in Nottingham for a week when they had stayed together at Pemberley. With recent developments he'd completely forgotten. Some boyfriend you are, he chastised himself.

“Jane, I can't leave it a week! Where is she going to be?”

“Kent, I told you. I don't know the specifics; she didn't know them herself.”

“Do you not know where in- Oh, bugger!”

“What?”

“Richard made me promise to visit him in Surrey this weekend, and then I'm working all next week… Shit. I really need to sort this!”

“I'm sorry, Will. I really don't know where Lizzy is, exactly. I'll tell her you asked after her when she phones, if you'd like.”

“It would be great if you could let me know where she is,” Will told her. “I can persuade Richard to let me detour if I know where I'm going.”

“I'll do my best, but when I spoke to her earlier her mobile was flat. Knowing Lizzy, it will take her a while to get around to charging it if she's not at work.”

“Don't worry, Jane, just do your best. I'll try phoning her, if you haven't got anything for me by Monday.”

“Don't mess her around, Will. Lizzy's not as tough as she seems. And if you hurt my sister…”

“I know,” Will smiled. “Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, except for that of her siblings.”

“Something like that,” Jane laughed. “Good luck, Will. Hopefully my silly sister will see sense.”

“If she'd see me it would be a start,” Will said, feeling rather dejected.

“Oh, and Will… Everything you said is completely justified… I've told Lizzy the same thing dozens of times. Perhaps she'll listen to you. Now, I have to go, the peas will go mushy, else!”

“Thanks, Jane! I'll see you soon!”

“Take care, Will. Bye!”

“Bye.” Will hung up. He stared at the phone thoughtfully, and then sighed. There was nothing more that he could do, other than try to phone Elizabeth. Praying that Jane was wrong about her mobile, he punched in the number. He was greeted by her voicemail, and so he gave up. He would have to wait until Jane got back to him. He paced the room. Waiting did not suit William Darcy. He was a patient professional - he had to be; babies took anything from minutes to hours to be born - but he was not so willing to rest on his laurels in his personal life. It went against the grain to depend on someone else to help him solve his problems. With a gusty sigh, he poured himself a large measure of whiskey. He needed it.

”Are you sure this is okay, Lizzy?” Charlotte looked at her anxiously.

“It's fine, Char. It's not like I haven't played most of this stuff a million times before.”

“You're a lifesaver!” Charlotte hugged Elizabeth in a rare demonstration of affection. Charlotte Lucas had been Elizabeth's best friend at university. They had met through the college orchestra where both of them played cello. They had soon struck up a rapport that carried them through their degrees and ensured that they stayed in touch in spite of the distance between their homes.

“Don't mention it,” Lizzy laughed. “It's nice to get away for a bit.”

“Do I detect a hint of depression there, Miss Bennet?” Charlotte studied her critically. “Yep, there's a definite depressed aura around you. Okay, Missie. I don't need to go just yet. How about you tell your Auntie Char all about it!”

“There's not much to tell,” Lizzy insisted.

“It's nothing to do with your new man, then?” Charlotte asked shrewdly.

“It has everything to do with Will, Charlotte, and you know it!” Elizabeth pulled a face. “We had an argument, and he walked out. And I can't help but think he's not going to come back.”

“What did you argue about?” Charlotte asked.

“Work,” Lizzy replied, shortly. “He said that working as a solicitor was making me unhappy and that I should make the most of a degree in languages and translate or something…”

“Well, he's right,” Charlotte said bluntly. “Sorry, Liz, but you can't stand your job. You only took it because you wanted to be near your dad, and you wanted to get away from your mum!”

“Yeah, but he's not supposed to say that…” Elizabeth sighed. “It's one thing to know that things aren't as perfect as they could be, quite another for someone to tell you as much. Particularly when that someone is your boyfriend.”

“Don't you think you overreacted a bit?”

“You weren't there, Char. He picked my whole lifestyle to pieces!”

“Hrmmm,” Charlotte did not look convinced. “Well, things will work out. They always do, as my dear mother is wont to say. I think you're overreacting, but like you say, I wasn't there.”

Before Elizabeth could respond a car horn sounded outside.

“That will be my lift,” Charlotte said, looking anxiously at Lizzy. “Are you sure you'll be okay? Rich will bring me back on Sunday evening, so we'll have the week to catch up. I'm just sorry that work clashed with next week's gig, and you know what they're like. No respect for prior commitments!”

“Shoo!” Elizabeth laughed and pushed her friend out of the house. “I'll be fine. Enjoy the weekend with Richard. I can't wait to meet him.”

“I can't believe you haven't met the man I'm engaged to marry!” Charlotte laughed.

“Neither can I,” Elizabeth smiled back. “Have fun, Char.”

“You too, Lizzy!” Charlotte climbed into the taxi and Elizabeth stood and waved before returning to her house. She eyed her cello case contemplatively, before searching out the most mournful sounding symphony she could think of. It suited her mood perfectly.

Will sighed as he turned off of the M25. Richard had phoned him the previous week, asking him to make the trip to Surrey in order to meet his fiancée. Will was surprised that Richard had allowed himself to be pinned down; he was a veritable bachelor. The family despaired of his ever getting married. Just when his mother, Will's Auntie Sarah, had given up hope of any grandchildren from his quarter, Richard had taken the plunge and asked Charlotte Lucas to marry him. And thus, Will was travelling to Richard's home in Camberley to meet her.

The drive was mercifully not too long, and when he pulled up outside Richard's detached house - whatever else was said for his cousin, Richard was economically successful - he was not too ratty from the journey. He was, however, frustrated by the problems of his love life.

“Good God, Will!” Richard answered Will's insistent ringing, “where's the fire!”

“Nice to see you, too,” Will growled.

“Well, yes, that as well,” Richard smiled. “Come on in, cuz, and we'll soon put a smile on that ever so serious face of yours.”

“Still the same Richard, then…”

“Still the same me,” Richard shook his cousin's hand and then gave him a bear hug. “Thanks for coming, Will. It will be nice for Charlotte to know some of my family when we have this engagement jamboree that Mama is planning.”

“You know that Auntie Sarah only wants what's best for you!” Will replied, with a smile. Richard's cheery manner was infectious.

“I'm more worried it will scare Charlotte away, to be honest,” Richard confessed. “But such is life. Marry me, marry my dear old Ma.”

“Auntie S would kill you if she heard you calling her that,” Will pointed out, raising an eyebrow. “You know she hates being called `Ma'.”

“Who wouldn't?” Richard replied, irreverently. “It makes her sound like an old biddy. C'est la vie, however. Molly's made up the spare bedroom for you, so feel free to settle in!”

“I could have stayed at home, you know,” Will told him. “It's not that far to come!”

“Oh, don't be bloody ridiculous,” Richard replied. “You drove here, and if you were going home you wouldn't be able to have a drink. Live a little, man!”

When she arrived at the concert hall, Lizzy felt a rush of nerves. She didn't know anyone in the orchestra; there was no guarantee that anyone would like her, and what if she wasn't as good as they expected? She watched the familiar hustle and bustle in the unfamiliar room. As was always the case before a rehearsal there were instrument cases littered everywhere, musicians tuning and warming their fingers creating a racket that no self respecting composer would ever appreciate, some of them frowning at music, pencils in hand, others chatting idly to their fellow instrumentalists.

She dropped her cello case on an empty piece of floor and busied herself undoing the latches. Her cello was her pride and joy, made of maple and spruce with ebony fittings. She ran her fingers over its smooth surface, allowing its planes to sooth her before removing the bow and tightening it reflexively, adding rosin as she always did. And then, reverently, she lifted the cello from its case, grasping it firmly by the neck, and made her way over to the other cellists.

“You must be Lizzy,” a young woman greeted her with a smile. “I'm Leanne. Charlotte's told us to be nice to you - as if we'd ever be nasty. Jeremy's not here yet, so you've got plenty of time to get settled.” She paused, and gestured at the other cellists in their immediate vicinity. “Nick and Matt to your left, and to your right are Jenny and Louise.”

“Hi,” Elizabeth greeted them with a smile, before turning back to her instrument and plucking the strings experimentally. It was slightly flat, but that was not unusual. She played around until it was tuned to her satisfaction and then ran through a few scales, the familiar movement relaxing her.

“There's Jeremy,” Leanne interrupted her. “Right on time, as always. Hang on and I'll introduce you.”

Jeremy turned out to be a typical conductor, enthusiastic, brilliant and ever so slightly mad. But he went out of his way to put Elizabeth at her ease, and she was pleased when he called the proceedings to order and introduced her to everyone. They all seemed very friendly, but she was glad that she was only expected to play one short solo, Rachmaninov's Sonata in G minor for Cello and Piano. The theme of the concert was Russia in Turmoil, the line up focusing on Rachmaninov and Prokofiev, composers who had written during eras of great change in Russia.

The whole day was dedicated to rehearsing in Elizabeth's case, for whilst she was playing for only five minutes in the spotlight, she was also needed to take Charlotte's place in the orchestra, involving a great deal of what almost qualified as sight reading. Some of the music she had played at Cambridge, but none of the line up was particularly fresh in her memory, something she confided in Leanne. Leanne laughed and assured her that it wasn't difficult to pick up, and that if she was as good as Charlotte had intimated then she would be fine. Elizabeth didn't find this terribly comforting, but she got through the rehearsal very well and was thankful to her old teacher for an insistence on the rigid practice of scales, which came in very handy in some of the pieces.

It was after lunch, though, that her nerves really set in. She had yet to meet the pianist who formed the other half of her duet, although Charlotte had told her his name was Andrew Denny and that he was slightly younger than Elizabeth herself. Fortunately, he was a friendly young man, and in no time at all they were comfortable enough to argue about speed and which instrument was harder to play.

“I can't believe how easy you make it look,” Elizabeth laughed, as Andrew's hands flew over the keyboard. “I know it's bloody difficult to play the piano part; Rachmaninov isn't exactly renowned for his simplicity, but you make it look like child's play!”

“Hah, you can talk!” Andrew replied. “I tried to play the cello once, you know. It's not as easy as it looks; and that hand wiggling business is beyond me!”

“What?!” Lizzy looked at him in confusion, and then down at her left hand, which was moving along the strings out of habit. “Oh, you mean vibrato!” she exclaimed, giving an example.

“Yeah, that. An absolute nightmare. Someone told me it was like…well, let's not talk about that…”

“I imagine I've heard it before,” Lizzy laughed.

“You're an angel for helping us out, you know,” Andrew said, seriously. “This performance is for my A-Level, and Charlotte was gutted not to be able to help out.”

“You're A-Level? I didn't realise you were that young!” Lizzy looked at him with renewed admiration.

“I'm eighteen,” Andrew laughed. “Hoping for a place at the Royal College, but who knows.”

“Well, good luck with that,” Elizabeth smiled. “You've got the talent for it, at any rate.”

“Ah, you're flattering me,” he laughed. “Let's go over the opening again…”

On Sunday morning, Will walked into the kitchen to find Charlotte and Richard involved in a heated discussion about their plans for the day.

“I'm sure your friend will be fine, Char,” Richard insisted. “You said you'd asked Leanne to look out for her, and Andrew's a good lad. No need to go traipsing back to check up on her!”

“I'm sure she's fine too,” Charlotte agreed, “but I still feel guilty for leaving her there, and she wasn't in the best of spirits when I left her. Besides, I want you to meet her!”

“I see… You want to show me off!” Richard winked at Charlotte and smirked. “Why didn't you just say so?”

“You're so vain!” Charlotte laughed, and noticed Will in the doorway. “Is that okay, Will? My friend is standing in for me at the orchestra this weekend, and I want to check that she's okay.... Jeremy - the conductor - is lovely, very enthusiastic, but he has his cranky moments, and she wasn't at her best when she arrived on Friday.”

“That's fine,” said Will, not really listening. He was more interested in getting back to London and finding out if Jane had made any progress. Richard had stolen his mobile and his pager at the start of the weekend, insisting that he needed to have fun and no amount of protesting could get his cousin to give them back.

“Thanks,” Charlotte smiled. “Do you want some breakfast, by the way? I think Rich was about to cook some eggs…”

“I was, was I?” Richard growled at her.

“Yes,” Charlotte nodded firmly. “You were.”

Will watched them together with a pang of envy. If he hadn't gone and ruined things, this was the kind of relationship he could have had with Elizabeth. The kind of relationship he could still have, if only he could track her down and apologise. He sighed… The weekend couldn't end soon enough.

When they arrived at the concert hall, Will and Richard followed Charlotte through to the auditorium, where a grand piano was set up, a young man caressing its keys. Charlotte put a finger on her lips, and tiptoed down the stalls, towards the stage. It was then that Will noticed the cellist, and felt a pang. She was dark haired and petite, and could easily have been Elizabeth. But that was silly; Elizabeth and Charlotte could not know each other; nothing was that fortuitous.

When he got close enough to make out the cellist's features, Will's heart gave a leap. It was her! Elizabeth, dressed in faded blue jeans and a faded Cambridge University sweatshirt, caressing her instrument as though it was the only thing that mattered in the world. He was mesmerized by her, watching in amazement as her fingers moved effortlessly over the strings.

The music she was playing was incredible; it was so full of yearning. Elizabeth's face was set in a mask of sorrow and she shook her head ever so slightly occasionally, as if despairing. He gazed at her, taking in every inch of her, the way her brow furrowed when she was concentrating, the tatty trainers he had teased her about only a week ago, the brown curls that were falling from their confines. She looked younger than her years and more fragile, somehow. His heart lurched as he noticed the dark circles under her eyes even as he marvelled at her talent.

As the piece ended, Charlotte began to clap. Will watched as Elizabeth took a confused expression, realising that she had been so immersed in her playing that she had not noticed their presence. As Elizabeth took in Charlotte's form, she smiled, before turning to speak to the pianist. She had laid her cello on its side and jumped down from the stage before she noticed Will's presence but he saw her visibly shrink as she acknowledged his appearance. Charlotte appeared not to notice, and rushed forward to greet her.

Getting to speak to Elizabeth alone wasn't easy but Will had finally managed it. They were standing in a practice room, and the tension between them was palpable. She stood with her back to him, arms folded over her chest in a gesture of protection. He had hurt her. Regret lanced through him.

“Elizabeth,” he began, gently, risking rejection by placing his hand on her shoulder. She did not reply, but nor did she move away from his touch. She was hostile, but she could be worked on. “I'm sorry,” Will said, wondering at the sheer inadequacy of words. “I should never have left you like that. Hell, we should never have had that discussion. I'm sorry for upsetting you, and I'm sorry for not apologising sooner. I tried, but by the time I made it to your flat you had already left.”

“You could have called,” Elizabeth said, turning around to face him, and to his horror, her eyes were brimming with unshed tears.

“I thought you'd hang up on me,” Will said reasonably.

“You could have tried,” Elizabeth insisted, and he was glad to note the softening of her manner.

“Would you have hung up on me?”

“Probably,” she admitted, and then caught his smirk. “That's not the point though,” she complained. “I could have been crying myself to sleep, and you didn't care to find out!”

“I'm sorry,” he said again, and he truly was. “Let me make it up to you? It was just a spat, Elizabeth. All couples have spats…”

“Yeah, but it hardly fills me with confidence when you walk out rather than resolve things…” Elizabeth looked at him expectantly.

“You were in no mood to listen, Elizabeth,” Will explained. “You thought I was going to wallop you, for goodness' sake!”

“I didn't,” Elizabeth said, and there was a note of apology in her voice, “not really. But you hear stories…”

“I would never do anything to hurt you, not deliberately,” Will insisted. “I thought you knew me better than that!”

“I'm sorry,” Elizabeth replied, contrite. “I didn't really think you'd hurt me, but you get a bit paranoid when you see battered wives in the course of your job.”

“You didn't trust me,” Will pointed out.

“You told me my life was pointless,” Elizabeth countered.

“I did not!” Will exclaimed. “I said I thought you'd be happier in a different job, and I stand by that. But I don't think what you do is worthless - far from it! You're a very good solicitor, Elizabeth. But you get too involved.”

“That's what Jane says,” Elizabeth replied, dryly. Will was pleased to note that she wasn't flying off the handle this time around.

“A wise woman, your sister,” Will said, smiling at her tentatively. She returned his smile with one of her own. “I'm sorry, Elizabeth,” he said, holding her gaze. “I shouldn't have rushed in like that. I shouldn't have let my frustration get the better of me…”

“And I shouldn't have been so easily wound up,” Elizabeth finished, moving to his side, and slipping her hand tentatively into his. He turned towards her, cupping her face with warm hands. “Am I forgiven, then?” he asked, huskily.

“As soon as asked,” Elizabeth returned, her voice barely more than a whisper. He lowered his lips to hers and sealed their reconciliation with a kiss, long, deep and reassuring, drinking in her scent, her feel, the essence of Elizabeth. He resolved to be more careful in future. His relationship with Elizabeth was not to be treated lightly.

Charlotte and Richard were meeting her parents that evening, which was why Charlotte had asked Elizabeth to cover for her in the orchestra, but Will stayed to watch the concert. Having reconciled with Elizabeth he was determined to make a good impression and banish all thoughts of their argument from her mind.

It wasn't until Elizabeth moved centre stage, cello in hand, that he truly focused on the performance; prior to that he was running through his plans to ensure that everything was perfect. But taking in Elizabeth's appearance he was once again amazed by her beauty. She had tied her hair back from her forehead, but had left it free to fall down her back in silky ringlets. Wearing a deep red dress with a wide skirt, she settled herself into the chair and adjusted her instrument to a comfortable position. The pianist caught her eye, and Will couldn't help feeling a flash of jealousy as they shared a smile, in spite of knowing that the boy was only eighteen and unlikely to be a threat to his courtship.

Will watched as Elizabeth closed her eyes and immersed herself in the music, placing her fingers delicately on the strings of her instrument, swaying slightly as she began to play. He was fascinated by her, and almost jealous of the instrument between her legs. Cellos, Will decided, could be very erotic instruments. He wished that it was him she was caressing rather than the beautiful instrument.

Idly, he looked at the programme notes, and read that the Andante was probably the most romantic cello and piano duo ever written. It did nothing to stem the tide of desire that Elizabeth's playing had awakened in him. Impatiently, he waited for the programme to finish, thanking his lucky stars that Elizabeth's moment in the limelight was towards the end of the repertoire. When the orchestra stood for the final applause he was flooded with relief; he couldn't wait to have Elizabeth to himself, especially as she would be disappearing for a week the next day.

“You were fantastic!” Will greeted Elizabeth when she emerged from backstage, cheeks flushed with the fever of success. “Absolutely amazing!”

“Thank you,” she said, blushing even more. “Do I need to change before we leave? I'm probably a bit dressed up for whatever you have planned…”

“What I have planned, Miss Bennet, is a night of dancing and cocktails, and you can do that perfectly adequately in your dress. Don't even think about removing it,” he dropped a feather light kiss on the top of her head, inhaling the scent of her shampoo as he did so.

“Where exactly are we going, Will?” Elizabeth asked, relaxing in his arms.

“Always with the questions! Don't you trust me?” he teased.

“No… Should I?” she joked back. He looked at her for a minute, trying to gauge whether she was speaking the truth when she said she did not trust him. He hoped not. That was the problem Elizabeth; she often hid her true thoughts behind a veneer of humour.

“Yes, you should,” he informed her seriously, offering her his arm. “Your carriage awaits, Madame,” he said, offering her his arm. She took it, and he relished her hand's gentle pressure at his elbow. With any luck this evening would have a happier ending than their last night out.

Much later, they arrived at Lizzy's flat, breathless and laughing. She smiled at Will, and held the door open for him. He pushed it gently shut behind him before turning to her and kissing her soundly.

“I've been wanting to do that all evening,” he announced huskily.

“Don't let me stop you,” Elizabeth murmured, stretching her arms up to his neck. He bent down and repeated the kiss, this time with more force than before.

“You, Miss Bennet,” he growled, between kisses, “are too sexy for your own good.”

“You're pretty hot yourself,” she replied, breaking the kiss to look into his eyes. “Do you mind if we go into my room?” she asked, chewing her lip nervously. “The heating isn't working in the living room…”

“Are you sure you want me to?” he asked, holding her gaze with his own.

“Yes,” she said, firmly. “I do trust you, Will,” she told him.

So they moved into Elizabeth's bedroom, and it's double bed. Will caressed Lizzy's body with skilful fingers, and she could feel liquid desire pooling in her stomach. She kissed him with a passion she had not known that she possessed, her fingers wandering to his shirt buttons of their own accord, desperate to feel his skin. Before long it was discarded and she was free to enjoy the solid warmth of Will's chest. Her fingers traced his chest hair, travelling down his chest to his stomach before disappearing underneath his waistband. She marvelled at his masculine beauty, tasting the skin between his nipples, alternating play bits with kisses, causing him to smile down at her.

“Can anyone play at that game, or is it reserved for you?” he asked indulgently.

“It's exclusive,” she told him, “but I might be persuaded to make an exception for you. And she did. His fingers sought out the zip of her dress and lowered it down to her waist, his eyes taking in her form appreciatively. Elizabeth couldn't help blushing; it had been a while since any man had seen her in this state of undress. She lowered her eyelashes, avoiding his gaze.

“Look at me,” he commanded in a soft voice, gently tipping her chin up so that she had no choice but to meet his eyes. “We don't have to do anything. Only as much as you want to do, Lizzy. Just tell me to stop, and I will.”

“I don't want to have sex,” she told him, before she allowed her hormones to carry her away. “We've only just made up…”

“We can do other things,” he said, cupping her face in his hands. “Do you want to?”

In answer to his question, she began to fight with the fastenings on his trousers. He laughed throatily.

“You are a minx, Elizabeth Bennet,” he chuckled, as he pulled her dress off completely so that she was in just her bra and knickers, red lacy concoctions courtesy of La Senza. With his help, she returned the favour, and they lay in their underwear, cuddling up to each other. Will kissed her, gently at first, covering every inch of her face before caressing her lips with his own.

She wasn't sure how they ended up naked, but they did, and she didn't feel at all embarrassed. It seemed like the most natural thing in the world, to enjoy each other's bodies. She was aware of Will's fingers, running up her leg to her knee and then back to her heel, creeping further up at each pass until she wasn't sure she could bear to be teased any more. She lay, passive, letting him do what he would with her. He held her gaze with his own as his hand caressed the heart of her desire before slipping into her. She gasped, the sensation was so unfamiliar and yet so wanted. As he kissed her lips, his fingers worked their magic, tracing patterns, writing elaborate hieroglyphs and painting pictures that made her squirm and wriggle and laugh and cry out until she came with a delicious shudder.

Afterwards they laughed together, before Lizzy looked at Will questioningly as she caressed his erection with tentative hands. He stifled a groan, and she smiled and began to play it as though it were her cello, making use of the vibrato technique she had been so reliably informed would give him pleasure. He closed his eyes in ecstasy, and she licked her lips, before bending her head to take him into her mouth, nipping and sucking him into oblivion.

In the aftermath of this shared loving, they cuddled up to each other, he caressing her back and resting his chin on the top of her head, murmuring words of love to her, she revelling in the joy that came with trusting someone completely. When he suggested that he ought to leave her, she clung to him.

“Don't leave, Will. The bed's plenty big enough. Stay with me.”

So he did, and they slept, spooned against each other, his hands around her waist, her cheek against his chest. His heartbeat soothed her to sleep, and she wondered how she had contemplated life without him.

Chapter 8 - Too Good To Be True

“Are you ready, Elizabeth?” Will called through to her. Elizabeth surveyed her reflection in the mirror one last time and sighed. She wasn't sure why she was so nervous about meeting his extended family but the mere thought of it sent butterflies fluttering in her stomach.

“In a minute,” she shouted back. “Be a good cat, Haydn,” she instructed her pet, “Jane will be in to feed you and play with you and I'll be back in a couple of days. No shredding the furniture, okay?” She stroked the grey fur and then picked up her holdall.

“You took your time,” Will greeted her, waiting at the door, sunglasses clipped to his crisp white shirt. April had melted into May with the traditional spate of downpours as the flowers in the municipal gardens began to blossom, and Elizabeth and William continued to enjoy an old fashioned romance. Today they were off to Will's uncle's estate in Yorkshire, Woodhouse, where the Fitzwilliams' were throwing a party to celebrate their younger son Richard's engagement to Charlotte Lucas.

“Sorry,” she checked in her handbag for her keys and ushered him out of the flat.

“Don't worry about it,” Will took her hand in his as they walked to his car. “You're shaking,” he accused.

“No, I'm not,” Lizzy refuted his claim, snatching her hand back.

“You are,” Will insisted. “What's up?”

“Nothing.”

“Something is.”

“I'm fine.”

“Elizabeth…”

“Wiiiilll,” Lizzy mimed his drawing out of her name. “I'm fine. Stop fussing.”

“But why are you shaking?”

“Nerves,” Elizabeth smiled sheepishly. “Meeting your family freaks me out a bit,” she admitted.

“It shouldn't,” Will told her, taking her hand again and tracing patterns on it with his thumb. “They'll love you, I promise…”

“Don't make promises you can't necessarily keep, Will,” Lizzy cautioned him. “To quote Mary Poppins, `that's a pie-crust promise - easily made, easily broken.'”

“Ah, the wisdom of Disney,” Will laughed. “Come on, ma'am, your carriage awaits. And stop fretting. Everything will be fine.”

“Famous last words,” Lizzy laughed, as they climbed into his car. “I'm holding you to that.”

Wentworth Woodhouse was a large estate in the West Riding of Yorkshire. Its greatest defining feature was the East Front, the longest country house frontage in England. Elizabeth gazed at the façade in awe as they drove down the long driveway.

“What do you think?” Will asked.

“It's…big,” Elizabeth replied in awe. It truly was amazing; a neo-classical structure complete with Romanesque pillars and the like. She knew that she would never want to live there - it was a little too ostentatious for her simple tastes. Nevertheless, she would be the first to attest to its grandness.

“It is rather impressive,” Will admitted, sheepishly. “Been in the family for centuries. I often wonder what Uncle Giles does with more than one hundred and fifty bedrooms, but I've never been able to work it out.”

One hundred and fifty bedrooms? Elizabeth looked at the house again with startled fascination. It was the kind of place that you only saw on television, and yet here she was, visiting it in the flesh.

Will parked the car in an impressive looking place that he calmly informed Elizabeth was the `Stable Block', causing her to gape even more, and look around in search of the horses. He laughed at her and led her around to the front of the house.

Once they had entered the house - the door was answered by a rather impressive looking butler - they were greeted by an older woman of noble mien.

“William! Excellent, you made it!”

“Auntie Sarah! How are you?”

“I'm fine, darling, as you can see. Giles is taking good care of me, as always.” She held him out at arms length and surveyed him critically. “You know, you look more and more like your father every time I see you, young man!”

“I'm sorry!” Will said in mock contrition. “Auntie Sarah, may I introduce Elizabeth Bennet. Elizabeth, this is Sarah Fitzwilliam, Richard's mother.”

“Oh, Charlotte's told me so much about you!” Sarah Fitzwilliam took Elizabeth's hand in a firm grip and smiled at her. She was a beautiful woman, Lizzy decided; her bright blue eyes and blonde hair reminding her of Jane. Lady Sarah, though, had a certain bite in her expression that Jane lacked. Elizabeth wasn't sure whether to be amused or frightened. She chose the former course.

“You have me at an advantage then,” she smiled back.

“It's all been good things, I assure you,” the Countess laughed. “Now, where has my son disappeared to…” she looked around as if expecting him to appear suddenly. “Richard's always disappearing at the most inopportune of times,” she explained.

“I expect he's avoiding Aunt Catherine,” came another voice. “Good to see you, Will,” a man slightly older than Will pulled him into a manly hug. “You need to get out of London more often.”

“I'm always telling him that,” the Countess sighed, and then turned to Elizabeth. “Miss Bennet, this is my elder son, Howard. Howard, Miss Bennet is a friend of Charlotte's.”

“Pleased to meet you, Miss Bennet,” Howard smiled the same smile as his mother and shook her hand.

“Oh, please, call me Lizzy!” Elizabeth exclaimed.

“Then you must call me Howard,” he laughed. “I think I'll rescue you from Mama's clutches and take you to meet the others. Coming, Will?”

“Will can come in a minute,” the Countess announced, regally. “He and I must catch up first.”

“Fair enough,” Howard shrugged. “Come along then, Lizzy. We'll go and find Emilia - my wife - and the children. I think Richard and Charlotte have disappeared, and Julia - my younger sister - hasn't arrived yet.”

He led her through the house and into a conservatory, where a woman sat on a rug, legs curled underneath her, nursing a baby, whilst keeping an eye on two small children, who were playing with a couple of saucepans.

“You know that Michelle will kill you, don't you, dearest,” Howard greeted the woman with a kiss. “Fancy letting the sprogs loose on her saucepans…”

“For you information, Michelle gave them to James when he asked for something to play with,” she replied. “And stop being so rude, Howard! Introduce me to our guest!”

“Oh, terribly sorry!” Howard turned to Elizabeth and gestured that she ought to take a seat. “Darling, this is Elizabeth Bennet, a friend of Charlotte's according to Mama, although I'd warrant she's a friend of Will's too!”

Elizabeth blushed in response.

“Take no notice of Howard,” the woman laughed. “I'm Emilia Fitzwilliam, by the way. For that matter, take no notice of Sarah. She's ever so protective of Will and Ana. Seems to feel it's her duty to watch out for them…”

“She's better than Aunt Catherine, though,” Howard pointed out. “And stop scaring Lizzy!”

“I'm not!” his wife laughed. “Come and meet the children. James, Louli!” she called. The little boy and girl looked up and at Emilia's gesture, came to greet the newcomer. The boy was clearly older than the girl, and had the same bright blue eyes as his grandmother, and a shock of wavy hair. His sister was smaller, fair like her father and had startlingly green eyes. “This is James,” Emilia touched her son on the head, “and this is Louise. And this,” she cooed at the baby in her lap, “is Beatrice. Say hello to Miss Bennet!”

“Hello,” James greeted her, sitting down at his mother's feet. Louise merely stuck her thumb in her mouth and hid behind her mother. “Louli's scared of strangers,” James explained. “What's your name?”

“Elizabeth.”

“That's a pretty name.” He said it with such gravity that Elizabeth had to force herself not to laugh.

“Thank you,” she replied with equal gravity.

“Louli's name is Louise,” James continued, “but we call her Louli.” He looked at his sister. “She should meet you,” he declared, and wandered over, presumably to talk to his sister. Elizabeth smiled.

“You like children, then?” Emilia asked, although it came out as more of a statement.

“As long as I can send them home to Mummy and Daddy,” Lizzy winked, causing Emilia to laugh. Before she had a chance to reply, though, her children approached Elizabeth.

“Louli, say hello to Elizabeth,” James commanded.

“Hello, Wizbef,” the little girl said obediently.

“Hello, Louise,” Elizabeth offered the little girl her hand, which Louise regarded thoughtfully before putting her own small hand into it and shaking it. “I not Louise,” she announced, as she continued to pump Lizzy's hand. “I Louli.”

“Louli is a pretty name,” Elizabeth smiled. “Shall I tell you a secret?”

Louise nodded her head. Elizabeth whispered in her ear, and the little girl smiled.

“Wizzy!” she said, cuddling up to her new friend.

“Close enough,” Elizabeth shrugged, and then jumped as hands caressed her shoulders.

“Befriending my niece already, are you?” Will asked.

“Uncle Will!” James launched himself at the newcomer, and was caught up in a bear hug.

“Hiya, Jimbo!” Will swung the child around, causing him to squeal with delight. “Are you being a good boy for Mummy?”

“I am,” James agreed. “Louli is being good, too,” he added.

“I don't doubt it,” Will laughed as he set his `nephew' on to the floor. “Let me talk to Elizabeth for a bit, and then I'll come and play with you. Is that okay?”

“Okay,” James wandered back to his saucepans and his sister ran after him.

“How are you doing?” Will asked, settling himself down next to Lizzy and wrapping an arm around her. “Auntie Sarah has gone to find Rich and Charlotte. Julia and Sam will be here soon, but in the meantime we could go for a walk, or something. The grounds are lovely at this time of year.”

“But you've just promised to play with James,” Elizabeth pointed out.

“I promised to play after I've spoken to you,” Will corrected her. “And I don't see why I can't talk to you and go for a stroll at the same time.

“Fair enough,” Lizzy got to her feet, and turned to Emilia. “I think I'm being kidnapped,” she announced.

“See you later, Em,” Will said as he tucked Elizabeth's hand around his elbow. “Howard's in the kitchen, I think, if you want him…”

“That's fine,” Emilia smiled. “You two go and have fun. I'll see you later.”

“Sorry about that,” Will said, as the walked through a wooded area. “Auntie Sarah can be somewhat protective…”

“I noticed,” Elizabeth sighed. “I thought they were going to love me?”

“Well, she hasn't had a chance to get to know you yet…”

“I take it that was what your `catch up' was about?” She took Will's silence for an affirmative. “But surely she already knew about me…”

“Of course,” Will looked wounded. “I think she was expecting someone…older.”

“Older?” Elizabeth looked at him in confusion. She was twenty-three, Will was thirty. Seven years wasn't that much of an age gap!

“Yes…” Will looked sheepish. “You do look younger than you are, Elizabeth…”

“I should be flattered,” she laughed. “I get that all the time,” she added. “I can't help being short, you know!”

“I wouldn't have you any other way,” Will insisted, pulling her into a hug and resting his chin on her head. “You make a wonderful leaning post,” he added, with a chuckle.

“Oooh!” Lizzy took a play-swipe at him. “Take that back, Mister!”

“It's the truth,” he said, grabbing her hands and holding them high above her head.

“Why you- mmf…” Whatever she was planning to say was covered up by his lips as he proceeded to show her exactly why it was pointless to fight with him. With slow deliberation, he licked her lips, slipping his tongue into her mouth and tasting her thoroughly, nibbling at her lower lip whilst running his fingers through her hair. As she responded, what started out as a play kiss turned into something much steamier with neither of them pulling back until a need for air forced them to.

“You were saying?” Will smirked at her, releasing her hands. She leant against him for support; it should be illegal to be that good at kissing, she decided. It gave him a most unfair advantage in any fight…

“Good,” he smiled.

“Did I say that out loud?” she demanded.

“Yep,” he grinned. “Come along, Miss Bennet,” he kissed her fingers slowly. “Time is running by and we'll have to go back soon. Auntie Sarah will never forgive me if we aren't around in time for lunch.”

By the time they returned to the house, the other Fitzwilliam siblings had joined Howard and Emilia and the whole group was partaking in pre-lunch drinks. They had barely stepped into the conservatory when a dainty young woman, the image of the Countess, approached Will with a smile.

“Hiya, Jules!” Will greeted her with a hug. “Good to see you!” he eyed his cousin's stomach thoughtfully.

“Stop being a doctor, William Darcy!” Julia Dovecoat smacked him playfully. “Number 2 is doing just fine, thank you.”

“I still think you should have let me do the honours,” he complained.

“Will, I love you dearly, but there are some things that your cousins should not see. This is one of them. And when are you going to introduce me to your lady friend?” Julia smiled charmingly at Elizabeth.

“Terribly sorry,” Will said, in a mock haughty voice. “Lady Sarah Dovecoat, may I present Miss Elizabeth Bennet, and vice versa.”

“Beautifully done, cos,” a masculine voice interjected, and Elizabeth smiled. Here, at least, was a familiar figure.

“Hello, Richard,” she smiled. Charlotte's fiancé returned the smile and kissed her cheek.

“Good to see you, Lizzy. Char will be glad that you're around to stem the tigers.”

“Distract them, more like,” Julia muttered.

Elizabeth looked from one to the other in confusion. There was a clear family resemblance between the two of them; they had the same colouring, although Richard was slightly darker than his sister, they had the same impudent smirk. Elizabeth got the feeling that she would get on quite well with Lady Julia, given half the chance.

“Stop baiting Lizzy,” Richard berated his sister. “Introduce her to Sam or take her to find Charlotte or wax lyrical about Andrew or something, but be nice!”

“Yes, sir,” Julia saluted him. “Come on, Elizabeth and meet my husband and son. I think Charlotte is playing with Drew anyway; he's more forthcoming than Howard's kiddies. I love them dearly but they take after Emilia's side of the family!”

Chattering away and allowing Elizabeth little opportunity to speak, Lady Julia wove her way across the floor to where a tall dark haired man had a toddler perched upon his shoulders. He was conversing with a woman that Lizzy discerned to be Charlotte with great relief. She wasn't sure how many more introductions she could stomach.

A cold buffet was served in the conservatory as the family took the opportunity to catch up with its various members. Elizabeth couldn't help but feel out of things, somehow. She was the only `non-family' member; Charlotte, as Richard's fiancée, was clearly perceived to be a Fitzwilliam already and the rest of the guests would not be arriving until the evening.

She looked on as Will played with his nieces and nephews and acknowledged that there was something peculiarly sexy about a man who was good with children. He had baby Beatrice on his knee and was jiggling her up and down with a practiced ease whilst chatting to James Fitzwilliam. Meanwhile, Louise Fitzwilliam and Andrew Dovecote - Lady Julia's son - were content playing in the sandpit their grandmother had brought in especially for them.

Having filled a plate for herself and Will - it had become apparent that he was not going to make the buffet - she settled herself besides him and his audience.

“Thanks, Elizabeth,” he gave her a grateful smile as he accepted her offerings. “Have you had some lunch, Jimbo?”

“Mummy gave us some sandwiches earlier,” the little boy replied. “What are you eating, Uncle Will?”

“I have no idea,” Will announced, with a laugh. “You'll have to ask Elizabeth.”

“A vol-au-vent of some kind…” Elizabeth shrugged. “It looked like something you might eat.”

“Well, it's very nice,” Will nodded his approval. “Do you want to try some, James?”

“No, thank you.”

“I always thought small boys were more…boisterous,” Elizabeth said to Will in a sotto voice. “Is he always this solemn?”

“James isn't solemn!” Will laughed. “Ignore Julia; she likes to bait people. He's a bit shy about new people and it comes out as a sort of reserve, but wait until he relaxes around you and you'll soon see that he's as boisterous as the next child!”

“Here, let me take the baby,” Elizabeth held out her arms. “Then you can eat properly.”

Reluctantly Will relinquished his burden to her and she settled baby Beatrice in her lap so that the little girl could see what was going on.

“You look like you've done that before,” Julia stopped to chat on her way to the buffet table. “Nieces and nephews?”

“Cousins, actually… my Uncle Edward is much younger than my mother and his children are still in the kiddie stage at the moment,” Elizabeth smiled thinking about her young cousins. “Matthew - their youngest - is only three…”

“Oh, I see! So you're not exactly a novice. And Bea is a little angel most of the time, aren't you precious?” Julia blew kisses at the baby, doing the doting auntie act to perfection.

“Bea is just perfect,” William announced, taking a pudgy little hand in his own. “You're beautiful, yes you are!” he cooed at Beatrice and Lizzy watched in astonishment. This was a whole new side to her man.

“Yes, I'll leave you to Uncle Will's cooing,” Julia smiled at Elizabeth sympathetically.

Elizabeth looked on in fascination as Will began to play a game with her tiny charge, gently pressing a button nose and waggling his eyebrows humourously.

“Do you want her back?” she asked, realising that she was unlikely to get any of his attention while Beatrice was in the vicinity.

“No, you keep her,” Will waved a hand. “You look good together,” he grinned.

“Don't you go getting ideas, Mister,” Lizzy laughed. “I don't want one just yet, thank you.”

Will pouted. Elizabeth looked at him thoughtfully. Although he had been speaking in jest she guessed that there was an element of truth behind his words. He was older than her; old enough to want to settle down and start a family, something that Lizzy had every intention of putting off for as long as possible. She planned on at least another five years freedom before she began putting down roots and leaves, in the form of marriage and children.

“You want one, don't you,” she said, softly, stroking Beatrice's back without thinking about it. “You want to be a Daddy.”

“Eventually, yes,” Will nodded. “Is there anything wrong with that?”

“No, just as long as you know that I don't plan on being a mother for a long time.”

“We have discussed that, yes,” Will agreed. “I'm not going to push you, Elizabeth,” he said, seriously. “You're still young enough to want to see the world on your own and I appreciate that. Don't make more of things than you need to,” he held out his arms to take Beatrice back and Lizzy could sense that she had in some way upset him.

“Will…” she placed a hand on his arm. He looked at her, one eyebrow raised. “I'm sorry if what I want doesn't tally with what you want,” she said, softly. “I'm not used to this, okay? You've had time to think about children and so forth in a real sense. Everything I know about them is much more abstract…”

“I'm sorry,” Will anchored Beatrice on his knee with one hand and touched Elizabeth's face with the other. “I shouldn't… It's just… After my parents died and it was just Ana and me… I want a family, Lizzy, of my own.”

“I don't blame you for that,” Elizabeth said, kissing his fingertips. “But I want to get away from that for a bit. You grew up with a sister fifteen years your junior. I shared a bathroom with four other girls. I suspect our perspectives are somewhat different!”

“I know,” Will smiled weakly.

“Anyway,” Lizzy stood up, “I think I ought to go and mingle with the munchkins. I've always had a thing for sandpits…” with a wave, she left him to Beatrice and walked towards Louise and Andrew, frowning slightly once she'd turned her back to him. Regardless of what Will said she knew that she wasn't ready to give him what he wanted and she wasn't sure whether it was fair to expect him to wait. She settled in with the children and shrugged. Life was so much easier when you were three.

“Hiya, Lizzy! How are you bearing up?” Elizabeth whirled round to see Charlotte's familiar - and at this moment very welcome - face.

“God, Charlotte, someone should have warned me that I was going to be on trial!” she wailed. “I can feel the hostility from here!”

“Oh, don't mind Sarah,” Charlotte laughed. “She was exactly the same when Richard first introduced us. She worries about her boys.”

“They're practically middle aged, Charlotte,” Elizabeth pointed out, dryly. “One would hope they were old enough to make their own decisions!”

“It's the maternal instinct,” Charlotte chuckled.

“Don't talk to me about maternal instincts,” Lizzy moaned. “I've had enough of maternalism to last me a year!”

“Come on Liz, the kids aren't that bad! They're really very cute!”

“Oh, the children are lovely,” Elizabeth agreed. “It's the adults that are the problem. And I think I've upset Will. And I'm so confused by this whole bloody thing that I wish I'd just stayed at home and come up later like everyone else!”

“Everyone else will be here soon,” Charlotte soothed. It was six o'clock and the party was due to start at seven thirty. The rest of the household had disappeared to `dress', but Elizabeth had stayed downstairs for a while, knowing that Charlotte was not usually inclined to worry about formalities.

“If I'd come at the same time as everyone else then I'd just be one of your friends. Instead, I'm being measured up as the New Mrs Darcy, in spite of the fact that I have no intention of being anything other than Elizabeth Bennet for a long time yet!”

“Would it be so very bad if you did marry Will?” Charlotte asked, thoughtfully. “He clearly adores you and you're not exactly immune to his charms, Bennet. Stop wimping out! At the end of the day, the only people who matter are you and Will. Everything else is just the icing on the cake. Relax and enjoy yourself!”

“Easy for you to say,” Elizabeth grumbled. Then she sighed, “I'm sorry, Char. I don't mean to be so grumpy, I just… seeing Will with the kids made me think. He doesn't want what I want; he wants the whole shebang, marriage, children, an estate car… I'm not ready for that.”

“You think too much,” Charlotte said, matter-of-factly. “Will knows what you want and he respects that. It's not like you've ever made a secret of what you want from life and you've been together for five months now. If he was going to walk, he would have done it ages ago.”

“Maybe…”

“No, definitely,” Charlotte was firm. “Look, Lizzy, Will loves you. He loves you. That counts for an awful lot. And I think that if you were brave enough to admit it, you'd agree that you love him too. But you don't want to admit it because you've seen what `love' does to couples. But you're not one of your cases. Stop worrying about the future and start thinking about what's happening in the here and now.”

“Easy to say, much harder to do,” Elizabeth smiled in spite of herself. “Okay, Char, fair point.”

”Now, bugger off and get yourself dressed,” Charlotte grinned. “Otherwise you'll be wailing in my ear about not looking good enough!”

“Yes, Mum,” Elizabeth laughed, and hugged Charlotte impetuously. “Thanks,” she said, simply. “I needed that.”

“Any time,” Charlotte smiled. “Now, shoo. Skedaddle!”

Laughing, Elizabeth skipped up the stairs to the suite that she had been allocated. Charlotte was right; there was no point in worrying about things. She would simply roll with it and enjoy the occasion. After all, this weekend wasn't about her, it was about Charlotte and Richard and acting like a wet weekend in Dorset only served to detract from their happiness.

Elizabeth descended the spiral staircase on William's arm, dressed up to the nines. She felt much more comfortable knowing that there were other guests at Wentworth Woodhouse to celebrate Charlotte and Richard's engagement, a fact that was clear in the way she carried herself and the energetic sparkle in her eyes.

She smiled broadly, thinking of Will's reaction when he had come to collect her from her room fifteen minutes earlier. Miraculously her hair had remained in place - she suspected that it was one of the benefits of the loose bun she had woven it up in. Her gypsy style dress was in black, accentuated with red ribbon at the neckline, sleeves and just about the flouncing hem. Its greatest attribute lay in the fact that it was up to date and sexy without being tarty. Coupled with Elizabeth's dark hair and some red strappy sandals it was perfect for the occasion; formal enough for the older generation and yet relaxed enough that she wouldn't stand out amongst Charlotte's friends.

“You look lovely, Lizzy,” Richard greeted her with a smile. “And you've brushed up pretty well too, cos!”

“Thank you, Richard,” Will said with sarcasm. “You don't look so bad yourself. Charlotte, you look enchanting, as always.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” Charlotte laughed. “Go and mingle, please! My friends are all a bit shell shocked by everything…”

“We'll rescue them, Char, don't worry!” Elizabeth laughed and hugged her friend. “Congratulations again, by the way,” she slipped an envelope into Charlotte's hand. “I didn't know what to buy you, so I got you these instead…” The envelope contained vouchers for John Lewis on the grounds that pretty much anything could be purchased there.

“You weren't supposed to give me anything,” Charlotte berated Elizabeth.

“Rules were made to be broken…” Lizzy laughed. “Come on Will, let's go and get the party started. Are you waiting for many more people, Char?”

“Hundreds,” Charlotte moaned. “All Richard's friends seem to believe in being fashionably late…”

“More fool them,” Elizabeth smiled her commiseration as she and William walked towards the ballroom where the festivities were being held. They were immediately accosted by acquaintances keen to get caught up, and parted for the moment to speak to their respective friends. However, when Richard and Charlotte appeared, the first dance was announced and Will tapped Elizabeth on the shoulder to claim her attention.

“May I have this dance?” he asked with a formal bow.

“I would be honoured,” Elizabeth mimicked with a curtsey, as the band began to play. Will took her in his arms and they swayed as a man began to sing…

You're just too good to be true.
Can't take my eyes off you.
You'd be like Heaven to touch.
I wanna hold you so much.
At long last love has arrived
And I thank God I'm alive.
You're just too good to be true.
Can't take my eyes off you.

“It's very gushy for Richard,” Will commented. Elizabeth laughed. Having seen 10 Things I Hate About You she knew what was coming, but to the uninitiated the serene beat could easily be perceived as your standard slushy love song. She was not disappointed when the brass section kicked in after a second verse.

I love you, baby,
And if it's quite alright,
I need you, baby,
To warm a lonely night.
I love you, baby.
Trust in me when I say:

Will looked startled before leading Lizzy into a jive. She caught his eyes and raised an eyebrow.

“Fitting for Richard's sense of humour, don't you think?” she asked with a smirk.

“Very fitting,” Will replied, dipping her with a thoroughness that she had hitherto never experienced.

“You did that on purpose,” she accused.

“Perhaps,” he agreed, a wicked glint in his eye.

Oh, pretty baby,
Don't bring me down, I pray.
Oh, pretty baby, now that I found you, stay
And let me love you, baby.
Let me love you.

Elizabeth laughed as he twirled her around the dance floor with an energy that she would not have imagined he had five months earlier. She was almost disappointed when the more sedate verse tune returned and they reverted to a slower dance. There was something exhilarating about being flung around by Will, caught in his strong arms. Then he pulled her closer and caressed her back and she reassessed her conclusion. There was a lot to be said for dancing with your head on William Darcy's shoulder - here she thanked the gods of fashion for high heels - feeling his lips drop kisses in her hair. She could definitely get used to this.

“Kind of an appropriate song, wouldn't you say?” Will asked as they left the dance floor.

“What do you mean?” Lizzy asked, feigning innocence.

“`Let me love you',” Will quoted, “kind of sums up my role in our relationship, don't you think?”

“Works both ways,” Elizabeth countered.

“See, there you're wrong,” Will told her. “I would be only too pleased to have you love me, but you, as we have already established, prefer to keep the world at arm's length…”

“Most of the world,” she told him, stopping and turning to face him, raising her face to meet his steady gaze. “There are some people I'd rather keep close to my chest.”

“Is that literally or metaphorically?” Will asked.

“Both,” Elizabeth replied softly. Then, before she let her heart get the better of her, she dragged him onto the dance floor again. The fates, though, appeared to be conspiring against her as strains of Here, There and Everywhere began to fill the room. Swaying to Will's rhythm, Elizabeth became caught in the vortex of her thoughts, images of herself and Will flitting through her mind. Their first dance at Jane and Charles' party, the subsequent dates and late night discussions; his joy in his work and his insistence on looking out for her, the way he looked at her when he thought she wasn't looking. She couldn't help but smile.

“I love you, Will.” It slipped out without her thinking about it, but even as she said the words she knew that she meant them, that she did love him.

“Pardon?” William looked at her in shock.

“I love you,” she repeated with a smile.

“I'm sorry, for a minute there I thought you said `I love you,'” Will looked at her incredulously.

“I did,” Elizabeth laughed. “I love the way you do that,” she gestured to his arched eyebrows, “when you don't believe me, and I love the way your hair falls into your eyes when it gets too long, no matter how long you spend trying to get it to lie right, and I love the way you talk to me about everything as if I was the most important person in the world. I love you for being you.” She laughed. It was an incredibly saccharine declaration of the kind that only really worked on film, but it was all true.

“You don't know how long I've been waiting for you to say that,” Will said with a boyish grin.

“I have a fair idea,” Elizabeth replied. Anything else she might wish to say was swallowed up by his kiss, a very deep and thorough `not for public eyes' type of kiss that made her knees weak and her pulse race. She was vaguely aware of the wolf whistles, subconsciously she realized that she hated public demonstrations of affection but for all that, she lapped up every drop that Will had to give. When he had finally finished they looked at each other, flushed and breathless, before Will reached up to brush an errant strand of hair behind her ear.

“In case you hadn't gathered,” he said, with a smile, “I love you, too.”

Chapter 9 - The Day That I Die

“I can't believe I agreed to this,” Elizabeth muttered, as she threw her bag into Will's car. Will raised an eyebrow at her. They were only going to a barbecue with her family; it wasn't so very bad, surely? Then again, in the past six months he had got used to Elizabeth's irrationality and had learnt to simply take things as they came.

“It's not that big a deal, Elizabeth! It's just a barbecue!”

“You haven't met my mother,” Elizabeth frowned darkly.

“I have, actually,” Will said, smiling. “I was Charles' best man, remember?”

“That doesn't count,” Elizabeth sniffed. “She was more interested in Charles then and I threatened to pull out of the ceremony if she so much as mentioned the `m' word in conjunction with anyone other than Jane and Charles.”

“It is impossible for anyone to be as bad as you make out,” Will laughed. “Besides, I really don't care how embarrassing you think this is going to be, I'm looking forward to meeting your family. You have met mine, after all!”

Elizabeth simply rolled her eyes and pulled her sunglasses down. Will smiled; regardless of what Lizzy said it was nice to spend the weekend together. They were driving up to Hertfordshire for the day to celebrate Deborah Bennet's fiftieth birthday and he viewed it as a definite good sign that Elizabeth felt comfortable inviting him along. He glanced in the rear view mirror to check on Venus - Elizabeth had assured him that her family would love to meet the collie - before turning the radio on.

Before too long, Elizabeth had perked up. The golden oldies had that effect on Will too, which was why the radio was tuned into Magic FM in the first place. Will's work was not sweetness and light; after helping a family to cope with a stillbirth or miscarriage he found it soothing to relax to the songs his parents had listened to when he was a child. Elizabeth had once commented on his choice in station, implying that she thought he was the type to listen to Classic FM or similar, but Will had just shrugged. There was a time and a place for everything. As Elizabeth belted out American Pie - the original version, not Madonna's cheap imitation - Will couldn't help but smile at her enthusiasm.

“Helter skelter in a summer swelter.
The birds flew off with a fallout shelter,
Eight miles high and falling fast.
It landed foul on the grass.
The players tried for a forward pass,
With the jester on the sidelines in a cast”

He added his baritone to her soprano, as they turned onto the M25, causing Elizabeth to look at him in shock. He winked at her and then they both dissolved into laughter.

“I'm bored,” Elizabeth announced, some time later. Will smirked. She sounded like a small child.

“Are we nearly there yet,” he whined, mockingly.

“No,” she told him. “We need to do something.”

“Not `I Spy',” Will vetoed the popular and mindless game. “I refuse to play `I Spy'…”

“I Went to the Market,” Elizabeth suggested.

“Care to elaborate?” Will asked.

“It's simple; I say `I went to the market and I bought an apple' and then you say `I went to the market and bought a banana and an apple' and so on and so forth.”

“Oh, fascinating,” Will said sarcastically.

“Well, no, not with apples and bananas,” Elizabeth's eyes danced wickedly. “But you can have a theme. Charlotte and I played once and we had to come up with parts of the human body - we changed it to `I went to Frankenstein and I bought…'”

“So what do you propose we use as our theme, then?” Will asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Sex toys,” Elizabeth replied, promptly, with a smirk. “I went to Ann Summers and I bought…”

“Kinky,” Will laughed. “Okay, Miss Bennet, you're on. Do your worst…”

By the time they reached Longbourn, Will was beginning to regret agreeing to Elizabeth's game. Some of her suggestions turned him on far more than he was prepared to acknowledge. He had been fine until she bought the Kama Sutra, which had led to a discussion in which he discovered that yes, she had read it, and also seen the animated online version, and from then on he had been hard pushed not to imagine his girlfriend pouring over the sex manual. All in all he was pretty grateful when they made it to her parents' home; he was fairly sure that they would not have any risqué conversations there.

“I apologise in advance for my younger sisters,” Elizabeth said as they got out of the car. “They cannot be held responsible for their actions.” There was a hint of mischief in her tone that told Will she was not entirely serious. From what he remembered of the younger Bennets, they were rambunctious but fairly normal. Nothing to worry about, at any rate, and he told her as much.

“That was two years ago,” she told him. “A lot can change in two years.”

“True,” he grinned. Her opinion of him had certainly changed a lot in two years, so he supposed anything was possible. He was about to say as much when the front door opened and they were ushered in by a middle aged woman who could only be Mrs Bennet.

“Oh, Lizzy! At last! You're late! Your Auntie Michelle has been asking after you; wants to know if you've got yourself a man yet. She says that she knows someone who knows someone's son who would be just perfect for you! Wouldn't that be wonder-”

“Mum, this is Will,” Elizabeth interrupted and Will hid his smile behind his hand.

“Oh!” Debbie Bennet looked taken aback, but swiftly recovered her countenance. “I know it's Will, Elizabeth Bennet! He was Charles' best man and you know that I remember everything about darling Jane's wedding! It's good to see you again, Will!”

“And you, Mrs Bennet,” Will smiled and kissed her cheek, causing her to blush.

“Oh, call me Debbie, please,” Mrs Bennet hastened to tell him. “Lord knows, everyone else does.” She turned to her daughter. “They're all outside, Lizzy; go and find your father and tell him to get Will a drink. And then come back and help me with the salad, there's a good girl!”

Elizabeth rolled her eyes, but nevertheless led Will through the house to the enormous back garden. Children were playing in a paddling pool which had been placed under one of the large trees, whilst a group of adults sat under the shade of a parasol enjoying pink lemonade. Elizabeth led him towards the latter.

“Look who it is!” one of the men exclaimed upon seeing her. “We weren't sure you'd make it, Lizzy!”

“As if I'd miss my mother's fiftieth,” Elizabeth scoffed, before dropping a kiss on his cheek. “Good to see you, Uncle Edward!” She smiled, and then gestured to Will. “This is Will Darcy - you might remember him from Jay's wedding? He was the best man. Look after him for me; I been summonsed to help with the salad!” With a laugh she headed back into the house, leaving Will with a group of strangers.

“That girl of mine,” a man Will recognised as Elizabeth's father smiled at him. “She'll be the death of me one day! It's nice to see you again, Will. Sit down and pour yourself a drink; there's some Pimms as well, if you'd rather.”

“This will be fine,” Will said, although he actually preferred his drinks to retain their normal colour. Drinking a pink liquid was not something he would generally agree to.

“Have you met everyone? Probably, but names are so difficult to remember… You've probably gathered that this is Edward Gardiner, Debbie's brother,” Elizabeth's father gestured towards the man that Elizabeth had spoken to, “and his wife Meg - the children are theirs, but you can meet them later - and this is Elizabeth's Aunt Michelle and her husband, Gregory. Jay and Charles will be here soon, I've no doubt, and we're expecting the girls later, but for now things are fairly civilised!” He winked at Will, who immediately warmed to the man. He recognised the source of Elizabeth's wit and acknowledged that it was her father, rather than her mother, that Elizabeth resembled.

“So how long have you been with our Lizzy?” Elizabeth's Aunt Michelle demanded. “She's kept things quiet, I can tell you!”

“About six months,” Will said, uneasily. He wondered why Elizabeth had not told her family about him. He supposed that there was a perfectly logical explanation but he couldn't help but feel hurt that she hadn't mentioned their relationship.

“She did mention that she had a new man in her life,” Meg Gardiner said and Will recognised that there was a subtle difference between the two sides of the family. He knew that Michelle and Edward were both Debbie Bennet's siblings, but whereas Michelle appeared to be cut from the same mould as the cast of Eastenders, Edward and Meg Gardiner appeared to have greater discretion. Mrs Gardiner's statement also suggested that Elizabeth had talked about him with some of her family, at least.

“Yes, she's quite taken with you, young man,” Edward smiled companionably. “Just treat her well and you'll be fine. Upset Rob's little girl, though and you'll wish you'd never met us! He pretends to be relaxed and laid back about the girls but I defy you to find a father more protective of his children!”

“I'll bear that in mind,” Will laughed, nervously.

“Don't mind Edward,” Meg smiled. “He's just teasing you. We're delighted that Lizzy's brought someone home at last; her work has made her very wary of relationships…”

“And I can't say I blame her,” Edward added. “Some of the stories she has to tell about couples that she's met…it's surprising she hasn't converted to Catholicism and joined a nunnery!”

“I always said it was a bad move letting her go to Cambridge and become a lawyer,” Michelle added. Will noticed that Robert Bennet had left them to their own devices and was off with the Gardiner children. He suspected that Mrs Phillips would never have said such a thing if Mr Bennet had been in the vicinity; from what Elizabeth had told him he gathered that her father was fiercely proud of her achievements.

“Don't be so old fashioned, Shelle,” Edward jumped to his niece's defence. “It's common enough for women to have a career these days and a damn good thing, too.”

“I don't know, I've always said that women are better off at home,” Michelle insisted. “You'd never catch me standing up in court, I'd die of shame! It's like I always said-”

“What did you always say, Auntie Shelle?” Elizabeth appeared behind Will carrying a bowl of salad.

“Oh, nothing, dearie,” Michelle beat a hasty retreat. “I was just telling Will how proud we are of you.”

“Yeah, right,” Elizabeth muttered under her breath so that only Will could hear. “That's very kind of you,” she added in a louder voice before settling herself in the chair next to Will's. “Isn't it wonderful news about Jay, though?” she added, deftly turning the conversation to Jane and Charles' impending parenthood. “Mum's over the moon about being a granny!”

“And what about you, Lizzy?” Michelle insisted. “Any thoughts about children…?”

“Not yet, Auntie Shelle,” Elizabeth said firmly. “Let Jay have her time in the limelight first. Besides, Mum'd kill me if I had kids before getting married!”

“I should think so too!” her aunt said in shock. “You listen to me, Elizabeth Bennet, I don't know what you learned at that college of yours, but in this family we do things the right way and the right way is to get married and then have children!”

“You'd never guess that she and Mum were sisters,” Elizabeth whispered in Will's ear as Michelle ranted through her diatribe. “Mum gave me exactly the same speech when I suggested being a single mother to her!”

“Elizabeth did just say she didn't want to have children yet, Shelley,” Edward hastened to placate his sister.

“Well…” Michelle still looked put out, but fortunately the arrival of a small Gardiner prevented her from continuing her sermon.

“Hihi Lizzy!” the little boy piped up, clambering on to his cousin's lap. “We missed you!”

“Hiya Matt!” Elizabeth ruffled his hair. “I missed you too! But I brought you a new friend today! This is Will and I bet he's very good at hide and seek,” she winked at Will.

“Are you really?” the child asked, with a lack of shyness that proved he was used to being in the company of his elders.

“Oh, it's a long time since I played,” Will said, ignoring the fact that he had played with his nieces and nephews at Richard and Charlotte's engagement bash, “why don't you tell me how you do it and I'll see what I can do?”

“Okay!” The child's face lit up. “I'm Matthew. I'm nearly four! How old are you?”

“Lots older than you,” Will laughed. “I think I'm what you might call a grown up,” he explained.

“Come on Lizzy!” Matthew tugged at his cousin's hand. “You've got to come and play too!”

“Looks like I've been summoned!” Elizabeth laughed, excusing herself from the table. “I'll catch up with you guys later,” she added, with a significant look at her Auntie Meg which did not go unnoticed by Will.

Matthew took both adults by the hand and the three of them walked towards the rest of the children, who seemed to happy playing in the water. It was an uncommonly hot day and Will envied them the coolness that their swimming costumes offered.

“I'm baack!” Matthew announced, causing his siblings to look up from their game. “And I brought Lizzy and Will with me, too! They're going to play Hide and Go Peek with us!”

“Hide and Seek, Matt,” an older boy corrected him. “Hi Lizzy!” he added, smiling brightly. “Mum says we have to stay in the shade for a while, but Uncle Rob got the paddling pool out for us, so that's okay.”

“Your mum is a very sensible woman,” Elizabeth told him, returning his smile. “But do you think you could leave the pool for a bit and meet Will properly. Matt hasn't quite worked out his introductions yet…”

“Oh, he's too little,” a small girl announced, coming over to hug Elizabeth. “Mummy says that he'll remember more when he gets bigger. He's only four,” she told Will confidentially.

“Be nice, Allie,” an older girl remonstrated. “It's not that long since you were Mattie's age!”

“Shut up, Helen!”

“Hey hey!” Elizabeth chastised the girls. “What have I told you about using those words?” she asked the smaller girl.

“Sorry. But Mummy did say-”

“I know, but you must always be kind to your sister,” Elizabeth interfered. “Now, come here and let me introduce you to Will.” Elizabeth placed her hands on the child's shoulders and smiled at her boyfriend. “Will, this is Alice, also known as Allie. I expect she'll play with us a bit later. David and Helen aren't so fond of Hide and Seek anymore, are you guys?”

“Not when Charles is coming!” David beamed. “We play football,” he explained to Will. “Helen plays too and so do Jay and Lizzy. The others are too girly to join in and Allie and Matt are too small. You can play with us if you like!”

“I think Will's looking after Matt and Allie,” Elizabeth told him. “And Jane won't be able to play today, not now she's expecting a baby. But you're welcome to play hide and seek with us…”

“Well…” David contemplated the offer. “I'll see what Charles says,” he decided.

“Charles likes hide and seek,” Will assured him. “He's a big kid at heart.”

“He likes football too, though,” David informed him. “And we always play!”

“Maybe you can talk Marie into playing with you,” Elizabeth suggested. “And Kitty might join in, if you ask her nicely.”

“But they kick like girls!” David dismissed his other cousins.

”They are girls, silly,” Helen told him.

“Lizzy doesn't kick like a girl,” David replied. “She plays properly!”

“Marie knows all the rules, though,” Helen objected. “And Kitty isn't so very bad!”

“But she'll be doing things with Lydia,” David pointed out. “And Lydia's no fun at all!”

“Hey!” Elizabeth interrupted. “Be nice, guys. Lydia doesn't like football, but that doesn't mean she's not fun!”

“She plays dolls with me,” Alice told her. “And she gives us chocolate sometimes.”

“That's to keep them quiet,” Elizabeth muttered in Will's ear. “Yes, you see! Lydia's very nice.”

“I don't think she is,” David insisted. “She only gives us things because she doesn't want us to make a fuss.” Will couldn't help but smile. David Gardiner was clearly a child who knew his mind.

“Oh, be quiet about Lydia!” Helen butted in, clearly sensing that neither David nor Elizabeth would back down. “Look, there's Charles and Jay! Let's go and say hello!”

And as quickly as that, the four children left Elizabeth and Will to their own devices, swarming over to the oldest Bennet and her husband.

“Sorry about that,” Elizabeth apologised. “They can get a bit carried away sometimes…”

“They're children,” Will pointed out. “It's what they do.”

“They're good kids, really,” Elizabeth smiled.

“I thought you didn't like children,” Will teased.

“I never said that!” Elizabeth complained. “I just said that I didn't want any of my own just yet! That's completely different. When and if I do have children, I hope they're like the kids, though…”

Will looked at her thoughtfully. This was the first time that Elizabeth had said anything about wanting children. He knew that she wasn't ready to have them now, but her speech gave him hope. It showed that she was not completely opposed to having a family. Previously he had got the impression that she was completely hostile to the idea of children, but her actions around her cousins - and his cousins come to that - showed that she would make a good mother, should she ever decide to take that step. He sincerely hoped that she would and that he would be the father of her children but he knew instinctively that it was much too soon to say as much to her.

“Come on,” he said, offering her his hand. “Let's go and see Charles and Jane.”

“I daresay they'll want rescuing from the sprogs,” Lizzy laughed. “David thinks Charles is the best thing since sliced bread. He was Matt's age when Jay started going out with Charles and he's been devoted to the guy ever since!”

They made their way over to the Bingleys. Jane was looking gorgeous as always, her bump just beginning to show. Will knew that she was due for a scan in the next week and that both she and Charles were extremely excited at the prospect of seeing their unborn child for the first time. Will couldn't help the pang of envy that shot through him; he wanted a family too, but the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with was not amicable to such a thing at the current time. He sighed. Patience was a virtue that every obstetrician knew the value of. He supposed he would have to extend his patience to his private as well as his professional life.

Before long, Jane and Elizabeth disappeared to discuss whatever it was that sisters talked about, leaving Will and Charles watching the children.

“Looks like things are going well with you and Lizzy, then,” Charles commented. “I don't think I've ever seen her look so happy…”

“Things are okay,” Will agreed. “Elizabeth isn't running a mile at the thought of a relationship. That's always a good sign.”

“You joke about it, but it bothers you, doesn't it?” Charles knew Will too well to accept his blustering.

“Yes,” Will sighed. “I guess it does. I want to marry her, Charles, and she has difficulty in telling people that I'm her boyfriend, for goodness' sake! It's like being back at school, only now everyone else is coupled up and has a baby or two… This isn't how I planned for things to happen, you know.”

“Give her time,” Charles told him. “Lizzy's always been wary of men. If she says she loves you - and from the look on her face when she's with you, I'd guess that she has - then take her word for it.”

“I know,” Will agreed. “And I do. But we want such different things at the moment. I want a wife and children - a family, and Elizabeth wants her independence. How long can we carry on like that? She told me she doesn't even like children.”

“Well, that's complete bollocks,” Charles laughed. “Lizzy loves kids! Always has. By the same token, she's always said that she doesn't want her own. She doesn't think she'd make a good mother,” he explained.

“That's complete crap!” Will exclaimed. “I've seen her with children; she'd be a great mum!”

“You didn't grow up with Debbie Bennet as your mother, Will. Elizabeth has never been what her mother wants her to be and what Debbie wants more than anything is for Lizzy to settle down and have children. Elizabeth's got it into her head that because that's what Debbie wants she will fail miserably at it. All the blustering about not wanting children… Yeah, I guess it's true to some extent; she's still young, barely more than a child, but I know Lizzy, and she will want a family at some stage. You just have to bear with her.”

“Yeah and by the time she's ready, I'll be impotent,” Will sighed in frustration. “I know you're right, Charles, but I want more than the life I have at the moment. I'd like, just once, to come home to a house where someone is waiting for me. To know that they'll be someone to distract me after a bad day. I want someone to share things with…”

“That's what Lizzy wants too, she's just more wary about entering into it,” Charles assured him. “You and Jane are right - her job does her no favours - but she has to make her own decisions. If you try and force her hand she'll run a mile in the opposite direction, as you know. No one tells Lizzy Bennet what to do!” he laughed.

“I worked that out for myself,” Will said dryly.

“Look, Will, you have two options. You can give Lizzy time and you can eventually have the life you want with her, or you can find someone else. Either way, that's your decision. But I'm telling you this as your friend and her brother: if you hurt her, there will be hell to pay.”

“What is it about threatening me today?” Will asked, slightly put out that Charles felt it necessary to issue such a warning. “Her uncle's already threatened me!”

“Edward was joking, Will. I'm not. Lizzy's not as tough as she makes out. Remember that, eh?”

“I'm not planning on hurting anyone,” Will told him.

”That's good to know,” Charles smiled. “Oh,” he added, offhand, “don't let the girls put you off, either. They do it on purpose; any man who can put up with them is okay for their sister. And for God's sake, don't say anything to Lizzy about them!”

“I wasn't intending to. She's already warned me, anyway,” Will laughed. “It can't be that bad!”

“Don't you bet on it,” Charles laughed. “Just remember, Lizzy is the one you're going out with and you'll be fine.”

They were eating when a flurry of activity signalled the arrival of the younger Bennets. Will noticed Elizabeth tense and smiled at her in an effort to signal that it didn't matter.

“-what do you mean Lizzy's brought a man? Lizzy doesn't do men!” a loud voice carried through the house. “I bet he's as ugly as a toad…”

“Thanks, Lyd,” Elizabeth muttered. Will bit down a smile; ugly as a toad, was he?

Three young women appeared at the patio doors, arguing at the tops of their voices.

“That's my necklace, Lydia!”

“Well, I've been wearing it all day, and you've only just noticed, so you can't be that attached to it!”

“You could have asked!”

“You would have said no!”

“Exactly!”

“Meet my sisters,” Elizabeth said, with a roll of her eyes, as the only sister not involved in the argument came over to join them. “Hi Marie,” she added, kissing her sister on the cheek. “You remember Will, don't you?”

“Sure,” Marie smiled. “Good to see you again, Will. I take it you're the mystery man that Mother is trying to marry Lizzy off to…”

“Marie!” Elizabeth glared at her sister.

“Oh, take no notice of Mum,” Marie added. “She seems to think that a woman's place is in the home, no matter how often we tell her otherwise. She's positively archaic in some of her beliefs!”

Will noted the ease with which Elizabeth and Marie conversed and came to the conclusion that they had a good relationship. Marie seemed to accept Elizabeth as she was, and although she was not above teasing her sister, she was clearly supportive of Elizabeth's choices. In looks she was more like Jane than Elizabeth, fair haired and blue eyed. But where Jane was undoubtedly stunning, Marie was more average looking. Her hair was verging on mousey and where Jane's eyes were a piercing shade of blue, Marie's were a murky sort of grey.

“Hiya, Liz! How's things?” another sister joined the tête-à-tête.

“Kit! Nice of you to join us!” Elizabeth laughed. “Will, this is Kathryn-”

“But you can call me Kitty,” Kathryn interjected with a smile. “No one calls me Kathryn except Dad and then only when he's in a mood.”

Will nodded and returned her smile. Thus far he saw no real reason to be scared off by Elizabeth's sisters. Certainly they could be rowdy but they all seemed fairly normal to him. He saw a lot of Elizabeth in Kitty; they shared the same diminutive stature - although Kitty had an inch or two on Elizabeth in that department - and dark curly hair. But whereas Elizabeth wore hers long, Kitty's was cut in a bob that framed her face.

“Where's Lydia disappeared to, Kit?” Elizabeth asked.

”She's probably touching up her make up,” Marie rolled her eyes. “Honestly, Liz, did you see what she was wearing? You can practically see her knickers!”

“I don't expect she's wearing any,” Kitty said, calmly. “You know Lydia; always one to make a fuss. Besides, she'd get a VPL under all that PVC.”

“Will really needed to know that, Kitty,” Elizabeth said, dryly.

“Sorry,” Kitty had the grace to look embarrassed. “Anyway,” she said, brightening, “as long as Lydia isn't here she can't embarrass us…”

“Too late,” Marie muttered, as Lydia joined them. Wearing a micro-mini dress with a plunging neckline, she looked like some kind of tart. Will swallowed his distaste and greeted her civilly.

“Lovely to meet you too,” she said suggestively in response to his greeting. “Are you girls all going to sit there like old cronies or are we going to do something interesting?” she then demanded of her sisters.

“This is interesting,” Elizabeth said, through gritted teeth. “We haven't seen each other for months, Lydia! If you're that bored go and play with the children! I'm sure they can come up with something more `interesting' for you to do!”

“But I'll ruin my dress and anyway, they don't like me. Matthew bit me the last time I played with them.”

“He was a baby, Lydia, and you hurt him!”

“Details,” Lydia waved her hand distractedly. “Now, I want to hear all the goss. Have you and Mr Tasty committed the act yet? I can lend you my copy of Cosmo if you want to spice things up a little…”

Will was appalled; she was speaking as though he wasn't there. He quickly reassessed his opinion of the Bennets; Marie and Kitty were okay, but how on earth could people like Jane and Elizabeth be related to someone as crass as Lydia?

“Lydia!” Elizabeth shot her sister a horrified look, which was greeted by a shrug of the shoulders and a practiced pout.

“Just trying to help,” the youngest Benent informed her. “Honestly, you're much too uptight, Lizzy!”

“You're much too loose, in that case,” Elizabeth retorted.

“Oh, please!” Lydia laughed. “Look at yourself! He won't stay with you for long if you dress like that! You need to give him something to look at. Get your tits out, that kind of thing…”

Will bit down hard on his tongue in an endeavour not to get involved in the argument. No gentleman was interested in someone who looked like a hooker and not even a high-class one at that. Elizabeth always looked delectable to him and she rarely showed of more than a hint of cleavage. Lydia's trashy dress looked like it was going to expose her nipples at any second.

“Be more like you, you mean?” Elizabeth shot back. “Because, of course, I want to look like I ply my trade in SoHo!”

“You bitch!” Lydia flew at her sister but was restrained by Kitty, which was fortunate, as Debbie Bennet chose that moment to join her daughters.

“Girls! Are you fighting again?” she demanded shrilly. “Lydia, stop trying scratch your sister! Kitty, let her go at once!”

“Lizzy called me a whore!” Lydia whined. Debbie turned to Elizabeth, who got to her feet and walked away before her mother had a chance to chastise her.

“That girl will be the death of me,” Debbie moaned. “Lydia, you look lovely, I'm sure. Take no notice of Lizzy, she doesn't know what she's talking about…” Will didn't stay to hear more, but instead followed Elizabeth to a small copse at the end of the garden. He found her banging her head against a tree trunk in frustration.

“Hey!” he caught her hand and turned her round. “There's no need to damage yourself!”

“I'm sorry,” Elizabeth said, not sounding at all sorry, “but she makes me so mad!”

“She's not that bad,” Will soothed, mentally crossing his fingers.

“She is that bad, though! She's so crude, and loudmouthed and tarty… God, sometimes I wonder how we came to be related…”

“Trick of genetics,” Will replied, with a smile. “Come on, don't let it get to you. I'm not running away screaming, am I? It will take a lot more than Lydia to scare me off!”

“I suppose I should look on the bright side,” Elizabeth said, with a laugh, “at least Marie and Kit have grown up a bit… When Jane brought Charles home it was like the Spanish Inquisition…”

“They're lovely,” Will said, genuinely. He had no reason to dislike Marie or Kathryn Bennet.

“They've got over the teenage rebellion,” Elizabeth acknowledged. “It's just Lydia…”

“Forget about it,” Will soothed. “Everyone has relatives they wish they could lock away. Just wait until you meet my Aunt Catherine!”

“She can't be any worse than Lydia,” Elizabeth complained, as he gave her a hug.

”Don't you bet on it,” he said, dropping a kiss on to her head.


Chapter 10 - Things I Want In A Lover

Elizabeth was not having a good day. Inviting Will to meet her family had seemed like a good idea at the time, but she had barely walked through the door before she was cringing with embarrassment and shame. Her mother had hardly said hello before starting to detail her new plan for finding Elizabeth a man. Fortunately she had noticed Will and cut that thought short, but Elizabeth had been less than impressed. Things had only got worse after she had abandoned Will to the tender mercy of her father, aunts and uncles.

“You didn't tell me you had a boyfriend!” Debbie Bennet's voice had been shrill and full of hurt. “I've been worrying about you for months, and you've been out enjoying yourself! I'm your mother, Elizabeth! You should keep me informed about these things!”

“Sorry,” Elizabeth had muttered, shredding lettuce with grim determination.

“So…?”

”So… what?” Elizabeth had known that her mother was fishing for information, but she was damned if she was going to make acquiring it easy.

“Tell me about him, silly girl! How did you meet? I mean, obviously you met at Jane and Charles' wedding, but you didn't even like him then! When did this happen?” Debbie had waved her knife around as she spoke causing Elizabeth unnecessary worry.

“We've been together for six months,” she had told her mother, quietly. “Since Jane's New Year's party.”

“That long?” Debbie had been appalled. “Honestly, Lizzy, do you have no compassion! I've been worried sick about you, all alone in that little flat of yours, and then I find you've been dating a multimillionaire for six months! How do you think that makes me feel?”

Elizabeth didn't really care how it made her mother feel. Well, that wasn't strictly true; she loved her mother, of course she did, but Debbie's obsession with her love life was unhealthy. Elizabeth wished that she had a better relationship with her mother, but the fact was that she and Debbie were just too different. Debbie, whilst being a genuinely nice person, was also rather simplistic in her view of the world. Elizabeth, who had inherited her father's quick wit and intelligence, found that she had little in common with a woman whose main concern was the fate of Phil in Eastenders (and that was another thing - why was Debbie so impressed by Phil Mitchell? He was chubby and unattractive, to Lizzy's mind).

“Mum, Will and I have been dating for six months. That doesn't mean we're going to get married,” Elizabeth had pointed out at the time. “Besides which, he's really shy and I didn't think it would be fair to inflict the family on him.”

“Oh, nonsense, Lizzy! He's a famous businessman, for goodness' sake. Of course he's not shy!”

“Actually, he's an obstetrician,” Elizabeth had pointed out. “And he is. Very shy.”

“Well, I think you're exaggerating,” Debbie had huffed. “And you take care to keep him, Miss Lizzy. He's rich, he's handsome, and he seems to like you. You could do much worse than that. It's wise to bear these things in mind.”

Elizabeth had gritted her teeth and said nothing, throwing the salad into a bowl and taking it out into the garden. Her mother had that effect on her. Debbie didn't seem to understand that Elizabeth wanted more than comfort; she wanted passion. She wanted to be cherished and respected. Above all else, Elizabeth wanted a marriage of equal minds. Having grown up with a mother who was the butt of most of her father's jokes, Elizabeth had determined that when she married she wanted more than that. Money didn't come into it.

The memory made Elizabeth grit her teeth and shake her head into Will's shoulder. He had been very good about things, especially considering Lydia's conduct. She sighed. Lydia was just another one of the problems she didn't really have the strength to deal with. It was painfully apparent that her youngest sister was running wild. Whilst it pained her to admit it, Elizabeth's words to her sister had been wholly justified. Lydia looked like she would be more at home touting on a street corner than at a family party, and it was painful for Elizabeth to realise that her parents would do nothing to stop this.

“You okay?” Will asked, tilting her chin up so that he could look her in the eye.

“Yeah,” Elizabeth smiled weakly. “Just, you know, dealing with the family…”

“It's not that bad, Elizabeth,” he smiled. “Come on, let's go and find Charles and Jane.”

“Did I see you talking to Charles earlier?” Elizabeth asked, taking his arm as they crossed the lawn.

“It was more Charles talking to me,” Will laughed. “He was getting into his role as your big brother,” he explained when she gave him a quizzical look.

“Oh,” she raised an eyebrow. “But we've been together for ages,” she pointed out. “Why wait until now? And anyway, he and Jane are our biggest fans!”

“Yeah, well… They care about you,” Will met her eyes, and she could see something smouldering in them. Without really thinking about it, she stood on her tiptoes and kissed him languorously.

“Well, they should try remembering that I'm an adult,” she informed him, licking her lips wickedly. “I'm sorry,” she added. “I knew this was a bad idea.”

“No,” Will caught her hand and prevented her from continuing towards Jane. “It wasn't a bad idea, Elizabeth. It's nice to finally meet your family.”

“Such as it is,” Elizabeth smiled ruefully. “Okay, I concede the point.”

Will smiled at her, and took her hand. With a gentle tug, he pulled her towards Charles and Jane, and under the influence of their genial and intelligent conversation Elizabeth found that the frustration she had felt towards Lydia gradually faded away. Will was right; as families went hers wasn't so bad. Sure, Lydia and her mum could be annoying sometimes, but they all cared for each other, and she knew that when push came to shove she could depend on them for support. She squeezed Will's hand in appreciation for his patience, and gave her sister a radiant smile. Things could be much worse.

“You're back then, Lizzy,” Jane smiled. “Lydia doesn't mean it, you know,” she added softly.

“I know,” Elizabeth sighed. Then she brightened, and placed a hand on her sister's stomach, which was now showing evidence of the baby growing inside her. At five months pregnant, Jane was radiant. “Has the sprog been good in my absence?” she asked.

“I do wish you wouldn't refer to your niece or nephew as `Sprog', Elizabeth,” her Aunt Michelle, who walked past at that moment, complained.

“It's better than calling the poor child `it',” Elizabeth responded. Her aunt huffed, but moved on.

“Speaking of names, have you thought of any you like yet?” Will asked.

“Oh, hundreds,” Charles beamed, as Jane groaned. “If it's a girl I think she should be called `Jane' after her mother-”

“Over my dead body,” Jane announced, in a tone of resignation.

“-and if it's a boy,” Charles continued, as if oblivious to her interruption, “then I think we should call him Sting.”

“Sting?” Both Elizabeth and William raised their eyebrows in horror. “Oh no,” Elizabeth continued. “You cannot possibly inflict that on the poor kid!”

“I think it would be a great name,” Charles enthused.

“I don't,” Jane whispered to Elizabeth, causing her sister to giggle.

“Are all Charles' suggestions like this?” Will asked, his tone a mixture of amusement and horror.

“No,” Jane assured him, “some of them are worse!”

“What can possibly be worse than calling you child `Sting'?” Elizabeth demanded.

“He thinks that a little girl called `Thunder Storm' would be cute,” Jane sighed. Elizabeth covered her mouth to stifle her amusement. Somehow she'd never seen Charles as the hippy type.

“Please tell me you are not serious?” Will demanded of Charles.

“Well, Jane doesn't like it very much, so no,” Charles agreed reluctantly. “I think it's quite sweet, though…”

“What about you, Jane?” Will asked, and Elizabeth sensed that he was relying on her sister for a more sensible answer. “What do you want to call the baby?”

“I don't know, really,” Jane admitted. “There are so many nice names out there, it's hard to pick just one,” she laughed. “If we have a little girl then her middle name with be Elizabeth,” she added, with a warm smile for her sister.

Elizabeth wasn't sure how to react to that. She was aware that it was a huge compliment, but was it appropriate to thank Jane? After a couple of seconds she laughed. “Are you sure it's fair to name your child after me?” she asked.

Jane nodded. “We want to,” she said. “You've always been there for us, and as the baby will be your first niece, we thought we'd mark the occasion. And if we have a little boy then his middle name will be Charles, after his Daddy.” She beamed at Charles after saying this. “We haven't come to any decisions about first names, though,” she added. “I like Isabelle or Harriet, or maybe Grace for a little girl, and Hugh, James or Leon for a boy. But it's early days yet.”

“Mmm,” Elizabeth pondered, “not that early, Jay. In three months The Sprog will be upon us!”

“I can't wait!” Jane laughed. “I feel like a beached whale already!”

“But you're hardly showing at all!” Elizabeth exclaimed.

“Exactly.”

“Horror stories getting to you, Jay?” Elizabeth gave her sister a sympathetic look. “I don't think I like the idea of being pregnant at all,” she mused. “Morning sickness, bloating, mood swings, tiredness, not to mention actually giving birth… Maybe I'll stick to being an auntie…”

“You shouldn't believe everything that people tell you, Elizabeth,” Will said quietly. “Having a baby is a pretty straightforward business, you know.”

“Not if you're diabetic,” she retorted.

“Even if you're diabetic,” Will insisted. “You just have to be careful.” He gave her a significant look, causing her to wriggle uncomfortably. “Most women with diabetes have a successful pregnancy and healthy babies,” he explained.

“Always assuming they're on top of their glucose levels,” Elizabeth pointed out.

“Which you are,” he shot back. Without meaning to, Elizabeth flushed. In truth, her glucose levels had been rather high recently, probably due to the stress of work and a new relationship.

“Lizzy?” Jane looked at her sister, concern filling her face. “You are okay, aren't you?”

“I'm fine,” she insisted. Jane gave her a significant look, and she sighed. There was no point in trying to fob her sister off; Jane knew Elizabeth well enough to know when she was lying. “I am fine,” Elizabeth said, resigned, “but my sugar levels are a touch on the high side…”

“How high?” Jane demanded.

“High enough that I've changed my diet,” Elizabeth told her, in a tone that brooked no argument.

“How high is it, Elizabeth?” Will asked, softly.

“Too high,” she sighed. “But like I say, I'm working on it.”

“Why didn't you tell us?” Jane asked, looking hurt.

“Because I'm old enough to be in charge of my own life,” Elizabeth said harshly. “I'm fed up of people spending all their time worrying about my damned blood. Fine, I'm diabetic, but there's more to me than that. I'm an adult; I'm on top of things. And yes, I have seen my doctor,” she added, noticing Will open his mouth to say something. Before anyone had a chance to respond to her rant she got up and stalked off, not in the mood for recriminations.

The thing with diabetes, she mused, was that keeping it under control was no mean feat. You had to be constantly on the ball, constantly aware of glucose levels, of hypers and hypos, totally in tune with your body. Other people would worry about her, whether she liked it or not, but sometimes she wished that they would let her deal with things in her own way. She was not stupid; it didn't take a doctor to tell her that diabetes could potentially be life threatening. She was, however, fed up of having her health discussed as par for the course. The fact that she had brought her disorder up in conversation conveniently slipped her mind.

“You know, you really need to stop running off like that,” Will said softly, when he found her. She shrugged and kept her back to him. She knew that his concern was fuelled by his love for her, but that was precious little consolation. “You can't ignore me forever,” he added, a hint of laughter in his tone that served to infuriate her further. “I'm driving home.”

“Have you never heard of trains?” she demanded, still refusing to face him.

“How do you plan to get to the station?” he countered, his hands falling on her shoulders and beginning to massage away the tension. In spite of herself, Lizzy could feel her tense muscles relaxing.

“Bus?” she suggested, unconsciously leaning against him.

“You'll be lucky,” he laughed, turning her to face him. She smiled in spite of herself; he knew exactly which buttons to press to take the edge off of her anger, or in this case, her frustration. She sighed, and his face turned serious. “You know, we only ask because we care,” he said, gently. “We worry about you. I told you once that your diabetes wasn't a big deal unless you made it one. I stand by that fact, but you promised me that you'd let me know if your sugar levels went crazy. Why didn't you?”

“Because it's not something that I like to talk about,” Elizabeth sighed. “It's not a big deal, really,” she told him. “Like I say, I've seen my doctor and my dietician, and we're working on getting things back to normal. But these things take time. And then you start talking about babies, and it being easy, and for me it's not, Will. I'm not stupid; I know that I count as high-risk. I don't want children now, but even if I did, I wouldn't be able to have them without risking all sorts of defects. I know you think I live with my head in the clouds about this, but believe me, I know more than I ever want to about living with this condition, and I know that no matter what you say, it's something that will always affect my life…”

“Only if you let it,” Will insisted. “You can get your blood glucose levels down, Elizabeth. You can have children when and if you do want them. You can do whatever you want as long as you are aware of your body. And you are.”

“Exactly,” she said. “I am aware. But no one else needs to know about that. You don't ask Jane what her blood sugar's doing, do you? Why must I be treated differently?”

“Shh,” Will soothed, pulling her into an embrace. “I'm sorry,” he mumbled into her hair. “But I wish you'd tell me about these things. A problem shared is a problem halved, and all that…”

“I know,” Elizabeth sighed, breathing in the smell of his aftershave. “I'll try…”

“That's all I ask,” Will assured her, dropping a kiss on the crown of her head. They stood together for some time, each absorbed in their own thoughts. Elizabeth was embarrassed that he'd had to act as a calming influence twice in a short space of time, and admitted to herself that family gatherings could be quite stressful. Longbourn was no longer home to her, and she felt vaguely uncomfortable when subjected to her mother's rants and her sisters' social faux pas. Even the calmest of people would become volatile under such influences.

“Wake up, sleepy head!” Will shook Elizabeth gently, bringing her back to consciousness.

“How long have I been asleep?” she asked blearily.

“You were gone by the time we hit the motorway,” Will smiled.

“That's your fault,” she accused. “You shouldn't keep me up so late at night!”

“You're a big girl, you can handle it,” Will retorted.

Elizabeth and Will had left her parents' house fairly early in the evening, Elizabeth pleading fatigue in order to get away from the stress of her mother's diatribes. She was genuinely sorry to have to leave her father, but she was aware that her family took some getting used to, and she didn't want to frighten Will off. He, however, appeared to be perfectly at ease with the Bennets, taking them as they came with an amiability that impressed Elizabeth more than she realised; the Will she had met at Jane and Charles' wedding was far more judgemental about other people. She supposed that the old idiom, `don't judge a book by its cover' was only too true.

She slid out of the car, stretching her limbs gratefully. Her sleep had been very refreshing, but she was the first to admit that cars did not make good beds. Together, she and Will made their way into the house.

“We're back, Kate!” Will called to his housekeeper, causing that redoubtable woman to emerge from the kitchen to greet them.

“Did you have a good time?” she asked, as she wiped her hands on a tea towel. “It must have been nice to see your parents, Elizabeth,” she added, smiling at Lizzy.

“We had a wonderful time,” Will said, to Elizabeth's relief. Not one for lying, nevertheless she had no real desire to inform Kate of just how irritating her family could be. Thus far the housekeeper approved of Will's relationship with Elizabeth; she wasn't going to give her any reason to take that approval away. Not, she reflected, that Kate was likely to be influenced by her family, but still; it was best to err on the side of caution.

“I'm glad,” Kate said, smiling. “If you're back then I'll be off,” she added. “I've put a salad in the fridge for you,” she told them. “I didn't think you'd be too hungry after the barbecue…”

Elizabeth smiled. Kate knew about her diabetes, of course - she was responsible for cooking her meals far too often not to be made aware of the condition - but she never made a big thing of it, taking everything in her stride. She did not usually work so late on Saturdays, Lizzy knew, but Ana was returning from Benenden next weekend, and Kate wanted everything to be perfect for her arrival, and had jumped at the chance to have a good clean without Will under her feet - not that Will was around all that much anyway; his job saw to that!

“Thanks, Kate,” Will smiled at her, and bent to kiss her on the cheek. The easy affection between the two of them was wonderful to behold; it reminded Lizzy of her relationship with her Auntie Meg. Although Kate Reynolds was not a Darcy by blood, she was as much a member of the family as Will or Georgiana.

When they eventually sat down to Kate's `salad' - in fact a monster affair involving chicken in a Caesar dressing, garlic bread, cous cous and various other delicacies - Elizabeth watched Will thoughtfully.

“What's up?” he asked, between mouthfuls.

“I was just thinking,” Elizabeth hedged, knowing that the topic of her thoughts was potentially painful for him.

“What about?” he asked, raising dark brown eyes to meet her own. She could never resist those eyes, whether she wanted to or not, and they worked their charm now, much to her chagrin.

“I was wondering what your mum was like,” she admitted, and regretted it, as Will's fork abruptly stopped its progress to his mouth. He placed it back on his plate and thought for a moment, before replying.

“She was wonderful,” he said, with a wistful smile. “But then, most people say that about their mothers,” he added. “She died when I was seventeen,” he explained, with a sad sigh. “She had a miscarriage, and then haemorrhaged.” His eyes misted over, and Elizabeth placed her hand over his sympathetically. “She'd miscarried before,” he said, “that's why there's such a big age difference between Ana and me. She was so pleased when Ana was born,” he sighed. “It was her dream to have a daughter. She used to joke that she had the matching pair; the brother and the sister. But she really wanted three children, and because she'd been okay when Ana was born, she decided to risk it again. I guess she didn't want Ana to grow up lonely, not like I had. But it was too much for her.” He paused, and it was obvious that he was dragging his mind to happier memories. Elizabeth wished that she hadn't brought the topic up, although knowing how his mother had died explained his choice of profession.

“I'm sorry,” she said, squeezing his hand. “You don't have to talk about it…”

“No, its fine,” he assured her, returning the squeeze. “We should talk about her more,” he admitted. “Ana doesn't really know anything about her. It's sad, but I've always been worried about upsetting her. But she was a wonderful mother,” he smiled. “She did everything with me when I was small. I vividly remember going to feed the ducks on the lake, taking the stale bread, and how we would sometimes go for picnics with the dogs. And when I got older, she used to read to me, and we worked together, and then, when I was eleven, I was shipped off to school. She hated that, but Darcys have been going to Eton for centuries, and Dad didn't want to break with tradition. I doubt my grandfather would have allowed it,” he smiled. “Then she had Ana, and she was so happy. She really loved looking after us; we didn't have any nannies or anything like that. My aunt was horrified!”

“She sounds like a very special person,” Elizabeth said, softly.

“She was,” Will agreed. He sighed. “I wish you could have met her,” he said. “She would have loved you.”

“I doubt it,” Elizabeth laughed. “Mothers don't like women who take their little boys away.” He smiled a sort of sad smile at that, and turned the conversation to more frivolous topics.

Elizabeth moaned when Will woke her, not least because the awakening was rude in the extreme. Still half-asleep, she pulled his face up to greet him with a kiss.

“Morning,” he grinned, looking particularly pleased with himself.

“Mmph,” Elizabeth mumbled, burying her face into his shoulder. “Need sleep.”

“Sure?” Will asked, tickling her ribs gently to rouse her more fully.

“Stop it!” she exclaimed, grabbing at his hands in an effort to prevent the torture.

“I haven't touched you…”

“Yet. I know you, William Darcy!”

“Well, I was perfectly happy before you woke up,” he announced, walking his fingers down her torso suggestively.

“I noticed,” Elizabeth said, wriggling closer to him. He bent his head, and she willingly lifted her head to bestow a passionate kiss. More than she liked to admit, his earlier attentions had aroused her as well as roused her.

“Are you complaining?” he asked, eyeing her lasciviously.

“Not in the least,” she smiled.

“Then you just lay back and relax, and let me do my thing.”

Elizabeth did as she was told. It had taken her a while to be comfortable with the idea of oral sex - it was almost too intimate. She had no problem with performing the act herself; in fact she quite enjoyed the power that it gave her. It was nice to know that she had the power to reduce a man twice her size to his knees. But trusting Will enough to lie back while he satiated himself on her was a whole different matter. It had taken a lot of coaxing on his part before she would consent to such activities.

With a skill that Elizabeth knew he must have learnt from somewhere - or someone - Will reduced her to a quivering wreck. A combination of his tongue and fingers invaded her most private parts, and she was powerless to resist the sensations that they provoked. Not that Will had any intention of doing so; it was clear that he took great delight in pleasuring her. Elizabeth wasn't going to complain; her past experience of sexual acts had been such that she had given up hope of ever reaching climax without the aid of her vibrator. That will knew which buttons to press was a revelation that she was perfectly happy to revel in.

They had not had sex yet, and Elizabeth was glad about that. They had slept together, many times, and she enjoyed sharing a bed with him. There was something compelling about waking up to his warm form, his smell distinctly masculine and distinctly his leaving her feeling secure in his affections. The fact that his pager had often interrupted their nights together was irrelevant; she had known what she was taking on when they had started dating and she was realistic enough to accept that somebody's unborn child was far more important than her sleep patterns.

All in all, she reflected - when she was capable of reflection, that was - life with Will was pretty rosy. He understood her, sometimes better than she understood her self. He was kind, compassionate, funny, and unique. She wondered what the catch was…

It was a particularly fine weekend, and Elizabeth was already sweltering by the time she and Will climbed into the car, destined for Georgiana's end of year Prize Giving.

“Are you sure I look okay?” Elizabeth asked anxiously. She had absolutely no idea what to wear to a posh public school do, and had said as much to Will, who had just laughed, and said that she'd look lovely whatever she wore. In the end she had chosen to wear a knee-length pencil skirt with a fifties-style flounce and a form-fitting fuchsia sleeveless top, with a demure black cardigan lest the weather should take a sudden turn for the worse, as it was wont to do.

“You look lovely,” he said, giving her an admiring look. “Good enough to eat.” She could tell he was thinking about their morning interlude and blushed in spite of herself.

“I just hope that the parents aren't members of the twin-sets and pearls brigade,” she said, to distract him. “I don't want to let Ana down!”

“The what?”

“Twin-sets and pearls brigade,” Elizabeth explained. “It's what we used to call the teachers at school. They inevitably wore woolly twin sets in pastel shades and a strand of pearls; very demure, but absolutely terrifying!”

“I know the type,” Will laughed. “No doubt some of the parents will be dressed up like that, but we're a bit younger than them! They won't expect you to look like somebody's grandmother, Elizabeth!”

“Well, that's a relief!”

“It's not that big a deal, you know,” Will said gently as he started the car. “You just sit and listen as some old biddy reels off names of girls.”

“I do hope you don't think of Ana's teachers as `old biddies',” Elizabeth chastised him. “And it might not be a big deal for you, but it is for me. I've never had to do the whole `mother substitute' thing before…”

“No one expects you to mother Ana.”

“I don't intend to.” Elizabeth placed her hand on Will's knee and looked at him thoughtfully. “But that's what this jaunt off to Kent is, really. Parental substitution. Because your parents aren't here to go, we're off to perform the honours in their stead. And frankly, I find that task somewhat daunting.”

“You're not the only one,” Will said quietly, his expression troubled.

“You worry about her, don't you?”

“I can't help it. I've been parenting her for so long, and yet I know that I'm never going to be as good as Mum and Dad. It's hard.”

Elizabeth nodded her agreement. It was hard, knowing that in taking on Will she was taking on Ana too. Will's sister was a wonderful person, and Elizabeth had no qualms about being her friend, but she suspected that as Will's partner she was so much more than that. And Will had been shouldering that responsibility for years.

“I wish it wasn't like this,” Will mused wistfully. “I hate Prize giving, you know. All those families…it brings home what Ana doesn't have…what I don't have…that's why I'm glad you're coming this year. At least we can pretend to be vaguely normal. A family.”

Elizabeth was touched. Will rarely spoke about their relationship in such terms, knowing that she was uncomfortable with being pushed into committing to him. She had been flattered when he had asked her to accompany him to the school, and knowing that he saw her as part of the family…somehow that meant more to her, almost, than his declarations of love. It was easy to profess love for someone, she knew. Men had said those three magic words before, and nothing had come of it. But to be part of a family…it was more enduring somehow.

“Ana's lucky to have you,” she told Will, with a smile. “There aren't many brothers as devoted to their sisters as you are to her.”

“I'm all she has,” he replied, as if that made it obvious.

“She has your aunts and uncles. No doubt they would have been willing to take charge…”

“She's a Darcy,” Will said, shortly. “Besides, I couldn't bear the thought of sending her away to them. It was hard enough leaving her to board at Benenden. I didn't want to abandon her.”

That was Will all over. He perceived his duty and he carried it out, regardless of the hardships or problems it might throw at him. He was wholly dependable. She supposed that was why he was such a good obstetrician; his ladies trusted him. He was the kind of man who knew where the boundaries were, strangely aloof and yet strangely approachable. It was easy to tell him your problems, but so much harder to get him to confide in you. That's why you love him, a voice in her head told her. You want to be there for him because he's always there for you. It was true. That was why she had jumped at the chance to escort him today. Like Darcy, Elizabeth Bennet knew her duty. And today, her duty was to be there for her man.

“Will! Lizzy!” Ana greeted them in a flurry of navy blue and white, her plaid skirt flirting around her knees as she threw herself at her brother.

“Hey, steady on!” Will laughed. “Anyone would think you were pleased to see us!”

“Oh, just Lizzy,” she replied nonchalantly. “I saw you last weekend!”

“Charmed, I'm sure,” Will laughed.

Lizzy smiled to witness the obvious affection between the two of them. Their relationship was complicated; Will was the ultimate in brothers in many respect, and yet paternal in many others. Again she felt awe at the magnitude of the task he had been entrusted with when his father had died.

“How are you, Ana?” she asked, greeting the girl with a hug.

“I'm fine,” Ana waved a dismissive hand. “Glad that term's over, though. The summer is here, and I am going to make the most of it!”

“Sounds like a plan,” Lizzy laughed.

“Maggie and Gregor are looking forward to seeing you, Ana,” Will added. “No doubt Maggie's been baking up a storm. She's most upset that Kate gets to see you first!”

“Good old Maggie! You've met her, haven't you, Lizzy?”

“Yeah; Will took me to Pemberley for Valentine's Day.”

“Ooooh,” Ana smiled knowingly. “Very nice, too. Did he show you the house?”

“Yeah,” Elizabeth smiled. “Right now, though, I'm more interested in seeing your room. I've never been inside a boarding school before. Is it really like an Enid Blyton book, or the Chalet School?”

“I have no idea!” Ana laughed. “You can have a nose around later; we don't have time now. You're late,” she turned accusingly to Will.

“We are not late,” he said sternly. “And if you stopped gassing and got a move on then we might actually make it to the marquee before the show starts!”

“Show! Ha!” Ana looked dismissive. “It's a boring waste of time, if you ask me,” she explained to Elizabeth. “But it's `traditional'.”

“Georgiana…” Will gave his sister a look. Rolling her eyes, she led them to a marquee, before disappearing to sit with the rest of her form. Once she was sure her brother's back was turned, Ana poked her tongue out at him. Elizabeth chuckled.

“You okay?” Will asked, slipping his hand around her waist. “Ana's right, really. It's hugely boring, but the school likes to make a big thing of their achievement. My advice is to take the opportunity to daydream, but if you're busy trying to emulate Enid Blyton by all means, be my guest!”

“I preferred the Chalet School, actually,” Elizabeth admitted as they took their seats. “Enid Blyton was all a bit too jolly hockey sticks…”

Will did not have the opportunity to reply as the orchestra chose that point to strike up, announcing the beginning of the ceremony, and for the time being the couple say quietly, watching an endless procession of girls cross the stage.

Do you derive joy from diving in and seeing that
Loving someone can actually feel like freedom? are you funny?
la self-deprecating? like adventure? and have many formed opinions?

As they entered Ana's room, Elizabeth's ears were assailed with the voice of Alannis Morissette blaring out of the radio. She admired Ana's taste; Morissette was one of her favourite singers.

These are 21 things that I want in a lover
Not necessarily needs but qualities that I prefer
I figure I can describe it since I have a choice in the matter
These are 21 things I choose to choose in a lover

Ana silenced the radio hurriedly, and stood in the middle of the room, looking at Elizabeth expectantly. Two desks flanking a large window dominated the room, which also had two beds and the various storage facilities that were necessary for young girls. The room was bright and airy, and Elizabeth was impressed. She said as much to Ana, who smiled and shrugged.

“It's not as good as the sixth form rooms, but it's pretty nice,” she admitted. “At least we don't have dorms.”

“I thought that dormitories were part of the fun of boarding school?”

“No! It's nice to have some privacy every now and again!”

“I see your point,” Elizabeth laughed. She motioned to the various suitcases in the middle of the floor. “Do you need help getting this lot to the car?”

“Sounds like a plan,” Ana smiled. Will had gone to retrieve the car so they didn't have to walk as far. Elizabeth grabbed a holdall and began to carry it out of the building, Ana following struggling with a suitcase.

“You should have left that for your brother,” Elizabeth told her, when they finally made it to the driveway. “He would have had no problem!”

“Sure, but he'd want to know what was in it,” Ana laughed. “And then we'd get into a `discussion' about how much you need to get by at boarding school, and how he never had half as much when he was at Eton - which is a huge lie, by the way - and it's just easier to do it myself!”

“I see your point,” Elizabeth grinned. “Speak of the devil.”

Will parked the car, and between them they managed to get Ana's things into it, although she seemed to be quite squashed in the back seat. She had laughed when Elizabeth had offered her the front seat and pointed out that it was her stuff that was taking up all the space.

The three of them chatted companionably on the way back to London, and when Elizabeth got back to her flat that evening she was amazed to realise that they truly had felt like a family. They had eaten Ana's favourite Chinese meal on the terrace and laughed at some of the anecdotes she had to tell, and when Ana had gone to bed, she and Will had snuggled in front of the television.

It was a scary thought, yet somewhat liberating at the same time. The ease with which she slotted into the Darcy family allayed many of her fears about her relationship with William. In fact, recently she had begun to feel that he was perfect. She laughed. No man was perfect, it was a physical impossibility. But Will came pretty damn close.

What you mean, Elizabeth Rose Bennet, the part of her mind that refused to be silenced told her, is that he is perfect for you.

Chapter 11 - In the Mood

Will watched as Richard fiddled anxiously with his cravat. He couldn't help but smiling at the agitation his ever-calm cousin was displaying. Clearly getting married was a nerve-wracking business.

“It's all very well for you to stand there smirking,” Richard complained, as if reading Will's thoughts, “but Charlotte will kill me if anything goes wrong.”

“You're exaggerating. Your mother will kill you if anything goes wrong. Charlotte just wants to marry you.”

“And you think Mum is less scary than Char?” Richard raised an eyebrow, finally abandoning the mirror. You must be crazy.”

“She's just happy. She's been waiting for you to tie the knot for the last ten years, you know!”

“Not that long, surely!”

“Well, at least since Julia got married…”

They shared a laugh. When Richard's younger sister had beaten him to the altar his mother had begun a serious campaign designed at getting him to follow in her tracks. The fact that all the young women she found for him bored him silly was neither here nor there. It was ironic, but as soon as Lady Sarah had given up hope of seeing her younger son married Richard had met Charlotte.

“Howard will be here soon,” Will told his cousin. He had to help Emilia with the children, but he promised he'd be here at least an hour before the ceremony. I think he's planning to get you mellowed out.”

“Anyone would think I was nervous!”

“Richard, you have been wearing morning suits for as long as I can remember - you went to Eton, for goodness' sake - yet you have spent the last half an hour fiddling with your cravat… I think Howard is probably justified in his assumption.” Richard's hand once again crept up to his cravat at Will's words, and William rolled his eyes. Richard, if you don't stop fingering that cravat I will personally see to it that you are handcuffed until the ceremony begins!”

“Hey! You're supposed to be supportive!”

“I am being supportive! If you keep fingering it like that it's going to be a dishcloth before you arrive at the Chapel!”

“You're like a little old woman!”

The two men stood glaring at each other, both their chins set with characteristic stubbornness. The arrival of Howard broke the impasse. Richard's older brother surveyed the scene with an experienced eye, and raised a sardonic eyebrow.

“Are you two fighting? I thought you left that behind when you left school…”

“William is not performing his best man duties,” Richard said, a hint of humour creeping into his voice in the face of his brother's obvious amusement.

“I am! Your fidgeting is driving me mad, though! Howard, see if you can get him to stop playing with his cravat. He's going to ruin it!”

“It would appear he is trying to strangle himself before making the biggest mistake of his life,” Howard quipped ironically. Can you blame him?”

“Shut up, Howard! We're supposed to be telling him everything will be okay, not that he's walking into a trap!”

“So if marriage is a good thing then why haven't you tied the knot, Will?”

“Yeah, Will,” Richard piped up, having abandoned the mirror in favour of flopping on the bed. Why aren't you married?”

“Because the object of my affections isn't ready for marriage yet, not that it's anything to do with you,” Will announced.

“So you are thinking about it, then?” Richard pressed.

“Sure. But patience is a virtue, and in this instance, I think it's a virtue worth practicing.”

Richard and Howard tried to grill him for more details but he refused, pointing out that he wasn't a kiss and tell kind of guy. They had to be satisfied with the knowledge that Elizabeth Bennet had captured their cousin's heart. As far as Will was concerned, that was more than enough information.

Elizabeth smoothed the skirt of her dress as she waited for Jane and Charles to collect her. She was looking forward to the wedding, inasmuch as she wanted to be there for Charlotte's sake, but she was petrified of alienating his family in some way. Whilst her previous visit to Wentworth Woodhouse had not been the unmitigated disaster she had feared, she was astute enough to realise that Lady Sarah Fitzwilliam did not like her. No, that's not true, she told herself, glancing at the clock on the wall impatiently, she doesn't know me. But she's wary. She certainly didn't welcome me with open arms. Probably thinks I'm only after Will for his money. She sighed and surveyed her reflection in the television screen.

Not bad, she decided, but probably nowhere near as classy as the Fitzwilliams. She gave a wry laugh. Of course she wasn't going to be as `classy' as the Fitzwilliams; she had bought her dress for £55 in Next. The Fitzwilliams had the resources to go somewhere more haut couture and from what she knew of Lady Sarah, no doubt did. Still, Elizabeth felt that her outfit suited her. It emphasised her cleavage - something she was actually quite proud of - but hid the parts of her figure she would hate for the world to take a gander at. She'd pulled her hair up in a bun - the forecast for the day was warm - and felt that she had done a pretty good job.

The doorbell rang, preventing any further tweaking even if she had been minded to commit it, and she hurried to greet Jane. Her sister was looking typically elegant in spite of the large bump Sprog now created. In a beautiful cream dress with embroidered detail at the bust Jane looked like a Madonna figure. Elizabeth sighed, noting her sister's graceful presence and comparing it to her own. Jane was always going to be the pretty one. It always made Elizabeth laugh when people spoke of Plain Janes. They clearly hadn't met her sister.

“Are you ready, Lizzy? Sorry we're a bit late; Charles couldn't find his sunglasses.”

“I'm ready and raring to go! You look stunning, as always, you fiend!”

“Oh, hush Lizzy! I can't look stunning, I'm fat like a beached whale!”

Elizabeth snorted. Any thing less `beached whale' than Jane Bingley was hard to imagine. Beached whales did not glide around effortlessly - although admittedly she had seen her sister supporting her back with her hands recently, a concession to her pregnancy - and pregnancy suited Jane. It gave her an added bloom. Elizabeth got the feeling that it would be Jane impressing the `in laws' rather than her. Damn. What had seemed chic and flattering in the living room suddenly felt flashy and overbearing next to her sister's understated style.

“Perhaps I should get a wrap…” she murmured.

“No!” Jane shot her a warning look. You've got your cardigan for if it gets chilly - which I doubt. You don't need a wrap!”

“I suppose you're right.” Reluctantly Elizabeth picked up her handbag and closed the door. Together she and Jane made their way down to the car where Charles was waiting, his hand tapping against the steering wheel in time with the music. He looked up as they approached.

“Hiya Lizzy! What's up?”

“Same old, same old! How are you, Charles? Taking good care of Jay, I hope?”

“Of course!” Charles grinned. Get it the car, Lizzy. I hope the traffic's not bad or we're knee deep in shit without a poop-a-scoop in sight!”

“Charles!” Jane exclaimed, as she settled awkwardly into the car.

“Sorry, dear.” He looked sheepish.

“Where on Earth did you find an expression like that?” Elizabeth demanded.

“Oh, I made it up,” Charles said airily. It's the Bingley variant on `up shit creek'…”

“Not anymore, it's not,” Jane told him, firmly.

“Yes, dear.”

Elizabeth laughed. Charles was so good for Jane; he was the only person she knew who matched her sister in amiability, and yet he had a wicked sense of humour when provoked. His wholesome blonde good looks did nothing for Lizzy, but she would stake her next pay packet that her niece or nephew would break a few hearts when they got older. With genes like Jane's and Charles' it would be impossible not to.

She settled back into her seat and closed her eyes against the fierce glare of the sun, already almost unbearably hot in spite of the early hour, and relished the cool of the air conditioning. She imagined making the trip in her own battered, non-air conditioned car and heaved a sigh of relief. The heat, combined with the gentle sound of Charles and Jane's conversation, soon lulled her into a doze.

William first saw her laughing with Charlotte's mother outside the chapel. His heart leapt at the sight of her and he drank in her petite form, draped in an elegant pink chiffon. My God, she's gorgeous, he told himself, not for the first time. At that moment, she looked up and he caught her gaze with her own, the air fizzing between them from the heat of their attraction. With a smile, Elizabeth excused herself from the conversation and sauntered towards him, the skirt of her dress flirting around her knees in a way that drove Will crazy.

“Hi, handsome!” Standing on tiptoe she lightly brushed his cheek with a kiss.

Now that she was standing before him Will could truly appreciate the subtleties of her attire. Her dress was strapless, exposing a vast expanse of creamy skin to his eager gaze. The swell of her breast enchanted him; a tantalising glimpse of the treasures he knew were hidden under the pale pink wrappings. She had tied her hair back, he noticed, and he wanted nothing more than to kiss his way down to the nape of her neck before removing the dark locks from their confines.

“Hello? Will?” Elizabeth waved her hand before his eyes, bringing him back to earth with a jolt. No matter what he wanted - and he wanted, very much so, to peel that tantalising second skin away from her and ravish her until she gasped her pleasure - he realised that it was neither the time nor the place to dwell on such thoughts. Blushing slightly, he apologised. Eyes sparkling, she waved off his apology with a laugh. Don't worry about it,” she said. Things going okay?”

“Fine.”

She smirked, and he got the feeling she knew exactly what he was thinking and wouldn't object in the slightest to his ministrations. Little tease, he thought, chuckling. Elizabeth knew enough about him now to realise that Public Demonstrations of Affection from William Darcy were the exception rather than the norm.

“I won't keep you,” she told him, “I'm sure you're busy with best manning, so I'll let you get on with it.” She turned to go, but he put out a hand to prevent her departure. She raised questioning eyes to his.

“I love you,” he said, giving her a warm smile. Enjoy the service.”

“You too,” she smiled, and walked away, turning to blow him a kiss before disappearing into the crowds of people. William sighed. He was glad Elizabeth was there; he was secretly petrified of the speech element of his duties, but knowing that she was around seem to calm his nerves somewhat. He felt in his coat pocked to ensure he still had the cue cards and was relived to feel their comforting presence. With a shrug to loosen his shoulders, which had stiffened at the mere thought of the wedding breakfast, he walked into the chapel to find Richard.

Elizabeth sat in a pew with her sister and brother-in-law, soaking up the atmosphere in the Old Church. On their previous visit to Wentworth Woodhouse, William had explained to her that although the New Church was generally favoured by residents, the Old Church - now mostly ruins - was occasionally used. Richard and Charlotte had favoured the older building for their wedding rather than the New Church, which had been built by the sixth Earl Fitzwilliam in 1872. Filled with flowers, it made a beautiful scene for the exchanging of the wedding vows, and Elizabeth couldn't help her instinct to glance towards the chapel door every few minutes in anticipation of the bride's arrival.

When Charlotte did arrive, Elizabeth was not disappointed. The princess line of Charlotte's dress emphasised her slim waist. It was a true fairytale wedding dress - not the kind of thing that Elizabeth would choose to wear to her wedding; it was too full skirted for her personal tastes - perfect for Charlotte. As her friend processed down the aisle on the arm of her father, Elizabeth felt inexplicably moved. There was something about the joy which illuminated Charlotte's face, making her without doubt the most beautiful woman in the church, which touched her.

“We are gathered here today in the sight of God and angels, and the presence of friends and loved ones, to celebrate one of life's greatest moments, to give recognition to the worth and beauty of love, and to add our best wishes and blessings to the words which shall unite Richard and Charlotte in holy matrimony…” As the vicar spoke the familiar words, Elizabeth was caught up in the moment, absurdly touched, especially when the time came for Charlotte's father to give her away. As he spoke the obligatory `I do' his voice trembled slightly, causing more than one of the congregation to shed a tear.

It was the vows that affected Elizabeth the most, though. The couple had chosen to follow the traditional ceremony, and she couldn't help but laugh as Charlotte pledged her troth. There was something comical about the ever-upstanding Charlotte pledging to be `bonny and buxom at bed' that filled her with mirth. She made a passable effort to quell her giggles however, studiously avoiding the eyes of any other guests.

After what seemed like hours kneeling at prayer, the vicar finally pronounced the Honourable Richard Matthew Giles Fitzwilliam and Charlotte Louise Lucas man and wife. As the wedding party streamed out of the church, Elizabeth caught sight of William. He looked unbelievably handsome in his morning suit, and were it not for the formality of the occasion she would have made every effort to run her hands over the silk of his waistcoat. However, such urges could keep until the dancing. In the meantime, it was time to head for the wedding breakfast.

As they posed for the photographer, Will wished he could be anywhere but here. It was all well and good for Richard and Charlotte; they would be able to get the album out every so often and laugh at the joy of their day. For him, though, every minute before the wedding breakfast was torture. He was not by nature an exhibitionist, and the prospect of verbalising on why Richard and Charlotte would make such a good couple scared him far more than he was prepared to admit. As if perceiving his discomfort, the photographer promised that they would only be a few more minutes. Will sighed.

“What's up, Will?” Howard demanded. You look like someone's given you a death sentence!”

“I'm fine,” Will said shortly. I'll just be happy when all of this is over.”

“You're worrying about the speech?” Howard looked vaguely sympathetic. Will scowled; he could have done without his cousin's pity. You didn't have to speak, you know. Rich would have understood.”

“I'm his best man. Of course I have to give a speech. Anyway, someone has to do damage control after you've done your worst!”

“Your faith in me is touching.”

“Ah, you'll take any excuse to embarrass Richard. It's what you're supposed to do!”

“And you're not supposed to get wound up about things. Chill out, Will! It's a wedding, not a funeral!”

Will glared at Howard, but said nothing. His cousin was right; he should be enjoying the day, not worrying about something that everyone would probably forget within ten minutes. He took a deep breath and resolved to think about something else. Glancing around his eye alighted on his girlfriend, and he smiled. Elizabeth was as good a distraction as any.

“Ladies and gents, can we all get in for the group photo! On these steps, please!” The photographer broke into Will's reverie and prompted a rush on the steps behind him. Any move that he might have made was prevented by the photographer's hand. “No need for you to move, sir. We'll keep the bridal party here, in front of everyone.”

Will nodded his assent and stood waiting patiently while the photographer made the appropriate noises, clicking and twisting the lens all the while. Finally his patience was rewarded, and the group was released, finally able to grab some of the free flowing champagne.

Will's interest was not in the alcohol, however. Instead his eyes roved the crowd of well-wishers, searching for the elusive form of his Elizabeth. He was consequently startled when small hands obscured his vision and a well-loved voice spoke.

“Guess who!”

“Elizabeth!” He turned, and embraced her. Finally!”

“I get the impression you didn't enjoy having your picture taken!”

“About as much as having my teeth pulled.”

“Grumpy,” she laughed, one hand reaching up to flick invisible dust off of his lapel. Come on, let's go and mingle or something. We've got a while before they serve the wedding breakfast.”

“Do we have to?” Will moaned. I hate mingling.”

“Yes, we have to! Come on, Jane and Charles are over there. They'll feel neglected if you don't speak to them!”

“I am reliably informed that on our first meeting Richard tried to throttle me. Of course, he was only three at the time, and hadn't yet mastered that babies should not be carried around the neck, but I'm fairly sure that my mother and Aunt nearly had heart failure when realising what he'd done!”

Elizabeth laughed along with the rest of the guests as Will delivered his speech. He had confided his fears to her earlier, but thus far she could see very little evidence of the nerves, which had been plaguing him all day.

“In spite of this early attempt at homicide, Richard has been as good as a brother to me. He takes every opportunity to mock me, bloodied my nose a couple of times during our youth, and never missed the chance to hijack the women in my life.

“This propensity for charming the female sex was long a source of contention between the two of us. You may not know, but today is actually Richard's second wedding day. The first took place in April 1980, during his final year at junior school. His first wife, regrettably, was not available to offer Charlotte advice on marriage with a man of Richard's calibre; however, I can hazard a guess that she would advise copious amounts of chocolate along with the answers to the latest exam…”

Elizabeth rolled her eyes and wondered why Will had worried. It was clear that he was a natural at speechifying. It was interesting to watch him transform from the serious man she knew and loved to the jovial best man who had his audience in stitches.

“The family never imagined that Richard would actually commit to a woman `in the sight of God and man', especially after Julia and Sam got married. Rich has always been what you might call a `confirmed bachelor'. So when he announced that he was getting married we naturally assumed that he was joking. Then we met Charlotte.

“Some of you know Char, some don't, but I can promise you that from the moment we met I knew that she was the right woman for my cousin. Anyone who has seen them together can't possibly doubt the depth of their love for each other. It's been a long journey to the altar for my cousin, but it's been a good one.

“My lords, ladies and gentlemen, please raise your glasses to Mr and Mrs Fitzwilliam! Charlotte and Richard!”

Will's speech was short and to the point, but it made that point well, and Elizabeth stood up along with everyone else, raising her glass to the happy couple with a wink towards her partner. Will's had been the last speech - Charlotte's father had delivered a touching tribute to his eldest daughter, and Richard and Howard had the audience in fits of laughter with their own brand of oratory before Will had cleared his throat and begun to speak. Consequently, they were now free to abandon the dining room in favour of the ballroom. As soon as people began to move, Elizabeth moved towards Will, intent on congratulating him.

“Well done!” she said, offering him a smile. You were wonderful. No one would believe that you were so scared!”

“I'm just glad it's over,” Will laughed, all smiles now that the nerve wringing aspect of the event had finished. Then he grinned and took her hand. And now I have a chance to see to you properly, Miss Bennet,” he raised an eyebrow rakishly.

“And how do you propose to do that, Dr Darcy?” Elizabeth laughed.

“I have my ways,” he told her, before murmuring into her ear. If you knew how much I wanted to peel that dress off you wouldn't shoot me such provoking looks!”

Elizabeth couldn't help blushing. She always did when he paid her compliments on her looks. It seemed impossible that he could be telling the truth; Jane was the beauty of the family after all. Nevertheless, his eyes held a sincerity that made it impossible for her to demur.

She allowed him to tuck her hand into his arm and escort her from the room, trusting him implicitly, although they were walking in a direction contrary to that of the rest of the guests. Sometimes you had to take risks. This was one of those times.

As soon as they reached one of the many private alcoves that Wentworth Woodhouse boasted of Will pulled Elizabeth out of the sight of prying eyes and touched his mouth to hers. Something - and he didn't know what it was - had possessed him. He wanted her, desperately, and drank her in like a parched man quenching his thirst.

“I love you,” he breathed, pulling away a fraction, taking in the flush of her cheeks and the brightness of her eyes.

“I know.” She ran her hand through his hair, a simple caress that sent shivers of desire running through him.

“You drive me to distraction,” he told her, trying to pull himself together, but unable to prevent himself from plundering the depths of her mouth once again. Not that she put up much of a fight. Without his realising it, one hand snaked up to support her neck whilst the other slithered down to cup the fullness of her buttocks.

“Whoa, there,” she laughed, moving away slightly. This might be a good time to find the others.”

“Probably,” he agreed, making no effort to stop his administrations. The relief of having got through the ordeal of the speeches had made him reckless.

“Will!” Elizabeth's protest was half hearted, but at heart Will knew that she was right. Reluctantly he moved a decorous distance away from her, taking her hand once again.

“Be still my beating heart,” he quoted, with a wry grin.

“Aren't I supposed to say that?”

“Don't be sexist.”

Together they made their way to the ballroom, arriving just in time to witness Richard and Charlotte take to the floor for the first dance. In a style typical of them, they had eschewed the tradition of sappy love songs in favour of Glenn Miller's `In the Mood'.

“Have you ever heard the lyrics to this?” Will asked Elizabeth as they watched Richard and Charlotte jive energetically.

“No…” she took her eyes off of the couple to regard him quizzically. He grinned mischievously before regaling her with them as they watched the newly-weds dance.

“Who's the living dolly with the beautiful eyes, What a pair of lips I'd like to try 'em for size, I'll just tell her baby won't you swing it with me, Hope she tells me maybe, what a wing it would be. So I said politely, “darling, may I intrude”, She said, “don't keep me waiting when I'm in the mood.””

Elizabeth laughed at his playfulness; as he whispered the words in her ear he stood behind her, circling her waist with a queer blend of possessiveness and flirtation. It was clear that he was getting into the swing of things, finally. He was also turning her on something chronic. She wondered if it would be possible to leave after the first dance, preferably heading in the direction of their bedroom.

“First I held her lightly and we started to dance Then I held her tightly what a dreamy romance And I said “Hey, baby, it's a quarter to three There's a mess of moonlight, won't-cha share it with me” “Well” she answered “Baby, don't-cha know that it's rude To keep my two lips waitin' when they're in the mood,”” he paused as the band launched into the chorus and twisted her around so that she was facing him. The chorus is pretty boring,” he explained. Lot's of repetition.”

“I should have known you'd know all the jazz standards,” Lizzy laughed, as other couples began to take to the floor. Where's Ana?” she asked, suddenly realising that she had hardly seen Will's sister all day.

“With Julia and Emilia. She couldn't be with me because of the whole best man thing, and anyway, she likes to see the children.”

“Who are coming in our direction,” Elizabeth told him, noticing Ana and the two small Fitzwilliams. Well, that ruled a quick getaway out, then. Where's Andrew?”

“I expect he's still with Julia. He's too much of a boy to want to dance!”

The children dominated them for the next hour or so. Elizabeth wasn't sure what to make of Will's popularity with the younger generation; it was forced home once more that James and Louise were besotted with their uncle. Once again she found herself questioning whether it was fair to ask him to wait before starting a family of his own. Except you haven't asked him to wait, she told herself. He made that decision.

“Auntie Charlotte dooks `ike a princess,” Louise confided in her, wistfully. Unca Richard dooks very handsome, don't you think, Wizzy? When I'm big, I want to dance `ike that.”

“You can dance like that now,” Will told her, having heard the last part of their conversation. In fact,” he paused and schooled his features into solemnity. Lady Louise, would you do me the honour of the next dance?”

“Who's `Wady Louise'?” the little girl asked, curiously, as her uncle bowed to her. Elizabeth noted that although she seemed to have a problem with her ls, Louise had her own name down pat.

“It's you, stupid,” James informed his sister. Uncle Will is asking you to dance!”

“Oooh!” Louise clapped her hands in glee. Reawy, Unca Will?”

“Of course,” he said, picking her up so that she could put her arms around his neck. Come on, my lady, the next dance is about to start!”

Will whisked the little girl off to enjoy a waltz, leaving Elizabeth with his sister and James Fitzwilliam.

“Would you like to dance, Auntie Ana?” the little boy asked, solemnly.

“We can't leave Elizabeth on her own, Jimbo!” Ana told him, with a smile.

“Sure you can,” Elizabeth assured her. Go and enjoy yourselves!” Privately she wondered how they would get around the height difference. Her attention was focused on Will and Louise, though; the protective way in which he held her, whilst at the same time making a small girl feel as much of a princess as her new aunt.

By the time the children were sent off to bed Elizabeth was high on champagne and happiness. Weddings did that to a person. She looked around her, seeing Charlotte and Richard, schmoozing to some trashy love song, Jane and Charles cuddled up in the corner, Lord and Lady Fitzwilliam laughing with some of their guests, and realised that ultimately that was what she wanted. The realisation was startling, and no doubt it would be scary in the morning, but for now it went well with the bubbly warmth that was springing from deep inside her.

“What are you looking so happy for?” Will asked, standing behind her and wrapping his hands around her waist.

“Do I need a reason?” she demanded.

“No.” He smiled.

“I was just thinking how lovely everything was,” she told him, aware even as she said it how redundant such a comment was.

“Isn't it,” he agreed, gently turning her to face him. Come along, Miss Bennet. I think you owe me a dance.”

He tugged her on to the dance floor, clasping her tightly to him, rocking gently to the ballad that filled the ballroom. Unconsciously she allowed herself to lean into him, savouring his warm masculinity. Looking up into his eyes, it was easy to forget about the rest of the guests milling around, strange though it might seem. In the thrall of Will's gaze, Elizabeth was transported into a different world in which only she and he existed.

Then she realised what Will was doing. Very skillfully, he was dancing her across the room to the exit, presumably with more private things in mind. She laughed delightedly.

“What's so funny?” Will growled in her ear. I've been waiting to get you to myself for hours!”

“But people will miss us!” she complained, not really expecting - or wanting - him to take her seriously.

“Tough,” he retorted, as they manoeuvred their way out of the ballroom and on to the cool terrace. Come on!”

“Where are we going?” Elizabeth demanded, as he tugged her along behind him.

“Somewhere where you can get out of that,” he told her, his eyes darkening in a manner that made it perfectly clear exactly what he wanted.

“I thought you liked it!”

“I do,” Will glanced around before ushering her up some steps. But I like you even more.”

They appeared to be in the kitchen. Elizabeth raised her eyebrow at Will, who responded with a shrug.

“Servants' entrance,” he explained. No one is likely to look for us back here. We can go and find our room!”

In spite of herself, Lizzy could feel the beginnings of something stirring deep inside her. Will's stealth excited her in a way she hadn't expected it to. It was exhilarating. It was also a huge turn on, watching her man trying to find a way to be alone with her. Who would have thought it? she pondered. I'm a sex goddess! She tried to repress a smile at the thought, not too successfully.

Elizabeth was so absorbed in contemplating her new role that she failed to notice where they were until Will pulled her into a deserted room and fused his mouth to her own. If she'd had the time and inclination to think no doubt she would have been impressed by his skill - although she was already only too aware of the potency of Will's kisses - but the intensity of his ardour was such that Elizabeth was perfectly happy to save analysis for later.

“Mmm,” Will murmured, coming up for air. You taste of strawberries.”

He tasted of chocolate and champagne and of forbidden pleasures, and Elizabeth didn't give a damn what he thought she tasted like, she just wanted him to keep on kissing her, to give her the opportunity to possess that lovely mouth all over again. But Will had other ideas. Moving to stand behind her, he bent to suck gently on her neck, making her shiver with pleasure. Slowly - too slowly - he moved downwards, caressing the line of her shoulder with his lips and tongue, filling her with molten desire. Unthinkingly she leaned into him, relishing the feelings he was provoking.

She felt the breeze cool on her skin as he licked a path around to kiss her throat, pausing to nibble on the hollow beneath her chin before whispering feather light kisses down to her cleavage.

With a practised ease he reached around her and slid down her zip, causing her dress to fall to her waist, exposing her to his delighted gaze. Another gentle tug, and the filmy material was gone, leaving her standing before him in just her underwear and high heels.

“My turn,” she whispered, amazed at her own daring. Standing on tiptoe - even with heels she was nowhere near as tall as him, she caught his mouth in a long luscious kiss, even while her hand pushed his tailcoat off of his shoulders. Without the thick fabric of his coat she could feel the heat of his skin through the thin cotton of his shirt, the tautness of his muscles a testimony to what he was feeling. She nibbled his Adam's apple whilst her fingers made quick work of the buttons on his waistcoat, which soon joined its mate on the carpet.

She met Will's gaze, then, standing back slightly as she allowed herself to tease him a little. With painstaking deliberation she freed each of the buttons of his shirt, gradually exposing more and more of his broad musculature, relishing the sheer manliness of him. Eventually she managed to free him from the cotton of his shirt, at which point his patience seemed to run out.

Lifting her up so that her legs dangled uselessly, he crushed her to him, kissing her with a frenzied passion that warned her of the devil she had unleashed. Strangely, it didn't frighten her. His lust for her combined with the knowledge of his love made her feel safe, and the strength and heat of his arms against her skin only served to reassure her that she was doing the right thing.

With very little effort, Will carried Elizabeth to the bed, gently laying her down and letting his gaze linger on her. Then he began to touch her, using his mouth and tongue and hands to caress every inch of skin on offer to him, leaving her helpless against the tide of his love. Gently, with infinite care, he removed her bra, and began to kiss the inside of her breast. The coil inside her wound tighter and tighter until she thought she would burst, as he took her nipple into his mouth and teased it with his tongue. She moaned, unable to think of anything save the sensations he was creating within her.

She was almost too far gone to notice when he eased her knickers down, all the while keeping focused on pleasing her. She arched her hips up to him, desperate for more, and his hand crept up her thigh to rest lightly at the apex of her thighs. He was teasing her, testing her, and all she wanted was to feel him inside of her. With a sudden clarity, she realised that nothing save Will would do. It was not his fingers that she craved, there was more to it than that.

“I want you,” she gasped, and he obliged by moving his hand, touching a fingertip lightly to her clitoris. No,” she insisted, her breathing ragged, “I want you. All of you. Inside me.”

His startled gaze told her that he knew exactly what she meant. They hadn't really discussed this. Will had always accepted the boundaries that she set, and before now she had been adamant that this was one hurdle they were not crossing.

“Are you sure?” he asked, keeping his eyes locked on hers.

“Yes,” she breathed, knowing that only he could bring her the fulfilment she so desperately craved.

Will's answer was to kiss her again, transmitting all the passion that he had henceforth bottled up through his kiss, whilst he fumbled with his trousers; desperate to be free of the impediment that was keeping him from her. Finally there was nothing save for the two of them. Elizabeth sighed, knowing that it was only a matter of time before Will joined her.

“Lizzy?” he pulled back, slightly, hovering over her, settled between her legs. She met his eyes unflinchingly, transmitting her acceptance, willing him to understand.

She could feel him; rock hard against her stomach before he pulled back and slowly sheathed himself within her. The sensation surprised her, and she gasped as he bushed past the boundary of her virginity, and as pain mingled with an indescribable pleasure. Throughout he kept a watchful eye on her, and sensing her discomfort he pulled back, kissing her gently, allowing her to become accommodating to his unforgiving hardness.

Then he began a gentle rocking motion, and Elizabeth screwed her eyes tightly shut against the pleasure he was invoking. Gradually he built up the tension, a slow acceleration of pace and hardness until she was mindless but for the unknown pleasures her body was experiencing for the first time.

And then, suddenly, she was spiralling out of control, seeing stars and stripes and explosions, shuddering against him, wanting nothing more than to remain like this forever, and he joined her with a sigh, breathing her name so softly that it was like the whisper of the wind.

Chapter 12 - Shattered Illusions

Waking up with Lizzy in his arms was a luxury that Will could definitely get used to. In the weeks since Richard and Charlotte's wedding he'd spent most of his nights at Elizabeth's flat. Her bed wasn't long enough, her cat drove him mad, and her fridge was never fully stocked, but all of that paled compared to the delight of making love to her at night and waking up with her the next morning. He glanced at the clock - 6:00. He'd have to get up soon in order to get home in time for a shower and change of clothes before going to work. Elizabeth said that he could keep some clothes at hers if he wanted, but he hadn't taken her up on that offer. William wanted her to move in with him, and it irked that she was continuing to refuse his offer. He frowned, but as Elizabeth stirred he pushed unpleasant thoughts away and focused instead on her fluttering eyelids.

"Good morning," he said, dropping a kiss on the tip of her nose.

"Urgh. What's the time?" Elizabeth glared at the alarm clock, and then at him. "You do realise that we could have an extra hour in bed, if you'd just give up and bring a shirt over, don't you?"

"Someone's grumpy this morning," he teased. "Anyway, your bathroom was designed for midgets. It's impossible for me to stand upright in there. If you'd just move in with me, all of these problems would be solved."

"Will..." her voice took on a warning note.

"I know, I promised not to pressure you. It's just..."

Elizabeth pressed her forefinger to his lips, illustrating that he should stop now. He forced the words back reluctantly.

"I do understand, Will. You're at that stage in life where you want to settle down, and for some reason you've decided that the person to settle down with is me. And I'm flattered by that. More than flattered, I'm sorely tempted. But... I can't make that decision yet. There are so many things I want to do with my life, and getting hitched isn't one of them."

"I didn't-"

"I know you didn't mention marriage," Elizabeth cut him off before he could protest. "But I know you, Will. You're an old fashioned honourable type. You won't live with me for long before deciding that you want to put a ring on my finger. And I'm not ready for that."

Will cursed her for knowing him better than he knew himself, even as he admired her ability to think his thoughts. He should know better than to get into an argument with a lawyer, he supposed, but he was in love with this particular lawyer, and he was damned if he wasn't going to at least try to get her into his bed with some semblance of regularity.

He realised that Elizabeth was using gentle fingers to smooth away his frown. "Don't push me, Will. I love you, but I can't always do what you want me to."

"I know," he sighed, drawing her petite form to his and holding her close. "I know it's unfair to pressure you. I just want to be with you, always."

"I know." Elizabeth snuggled into him, and he relished her silent embrace for a moment. Then she spoke again. "You haven't forgotten about the office party today, have you? You did say that you could come."

"I'll be there, if it's humanly possible," he assured her. "Assuming there are no emergencies, I don't see any reason why I should be late."

"Excellent."

Reluctantly, Will disengaged from her and began to pull on last night's clothes. Truth be told, he felt a bit like a naughty teenager, sneaking around at dawn in old clothes, but he refused to move his things in with Elizabeth. He still harboured hopes that he'd be able to talk her around to his way of thinking, and irrationally he felt that if he conceded this point then Elizabeth would never see things his way.

He bent over her prostrate form and dropped a tiny kiss on her nose, and then took himself off to the kitchen. He brewed up coffee for himself and tea for Lizzy, and spread some jam on toasted bread, and then returned to the bedroom. They ate together in companionable silence, Lizzy propped up against her pillows, Will perched next to her.

When they were finished, Will simply gazed at Elizabeth, drinking in her sleep dishevelled form. "You look eminently kissable," he announced, suiting action to words. She laughed, and squirmed away.

"You look eminently rumpled," she mimicked. "And, much as I'd love to indulge in some early morning frolics, you need to go if you want to be at work on time."

William scowled. He preferred not to be reminded of that fact. Nevertheless, Elizabeth was right. Thoroughly disgruntled, he acknowledged this. He bent down for a final kiss, tempted to say 'screw work', but knowing it was impossible.

"I'll see you later," he told Elizabeth, still frowning. "Have a good day."

"And yourself," she replied, with a smile, blowing him a kiss. "Try not to have too many of your ladies fall in love with you."

He had to smile at that - it was a running joke between the two of them. With one last longing glance at the bed, he strode out of the door.

Fortunately, work was not too hectic, and Will made it to Elizabeth's office not long after the party began. She'd been vague about what the party was for - not surprisingly, given that he'd been tickling her when he'd asked. He was pleased that she'd invited him, though - being invited to a work party meant that she saw him as her partner. It was a public affirmation of their status, in much the same way that Richard's wedding had been a public declaration for him.

"You made it!" Elizabeth launched herself at him, throwing her arms around him in a typical demonstration of affection. "Come and meet everyone!" She dragged him towards a tall blonde wearing a sharply tailored suit. "Emma, meet Will. Will, you've heard me talk about Emma Woodhouse, the practice secretary: this is she."

Coolly Emma offered him her hand and stared him over top to toe, as if cataloguing his merits and flaws. It was vaguely disconcerting, but knowing that Elizabeth was fond of the woman, he bore it stoically.

"So, you're the famous Mr Darcy," she purred. "Lizzy talks about you all the time. Anyone would think she was besotted or something!" She smiled, and William relaxed, realising that he'd just been assessed and passed muster.

They stood and chatted for a while, and were surprised to learn that they had a mutual friend, George Knightley. Emma had known him since childhood, whilst William had university with him. Elizabeth beamed at them both, clearly feeling very pleased with herself. Will couldn't help but smile back.

Next he was introduced to Marianne and Mark Brandon. Marianne was a gorgeous redhead, whilst her husband was a large swarthy man - one might have described him as homely were it not for his brilliant blue eyes. They were a pleasant enough couple, obviously devoted to each other, and equally obviously very fond of Elizabeth. Will found them very easy to talk to, especially when he learnt of their stables. They passed a happy half an hour discussing the finer points of horse breeding, much to Elizabeth's horror.

"Oh, look! There's Elinor!" Elizabeth broke into the conversation. Marianne and Mark turned instantly, and Marianne's jaw dropped.

"Is that Edward Ferrars with her?" Mark asked, grinning at his wife's expression.

"I thought he was going out with Lucy Steele!" Marianne exclaimed. "Ellie's a sly one not to tell me about this!"

Elinor Dashwood was not as stunning as her sister, but she certainly qualified as pretty. The man accompanying her - Edward Ferrars - was equally attractive. They made a handsome couple, but there was a trace of awkwardness between them that made William wonder what had happened in their past.

"Have you met everyone, William?" Elinor asked now, causing him to jerk back into the present.

"Everyone except George," Elizabeth told her. "Where is he, anyway?"

"Out having a fag, probably," Marianne said, wryly. "That man cannot go two hours without a cigarette!"

"Speak of the devil," Elinor said, nodding towards the door.

Will followed the direction of her gaze and froze. The man in lounging there was not unknown to him. Quite the opposite. Wickham. What on earth was George Wickham doing here?

"George isn't too terribly important," Elizabeth explained, sotto voce, as they approached the man in question. "He's only here temporarily, covering for Henry while he and Cate are on their honeymoon."

Will just nodded. He wasn't entirely sure what to say, to be honest. Elizabeth had referred to 'George' often enough, but, like most people, she tended to refer to her colleagues by the first names, and he had not realised that the George in question was George Wickham, his childhood nemesis.

Unfortunately for William, Wickham had no reticence about acknowledging their prior relationship.

"Darcy!" he exclaimed, offering his hand. Will studiously ignored it. Elizabeth stared. Will knew that refusing to shake Wickham's hand was petty, but he was damned if he was going to offer any courtesy, no matter how rudimentary to the bastard.

"You two know each other?" Elizabeth asked, looking from one face to the other in confusion.

"We grew up together," Wickham announced. Will gritted his teeth. "Inseparable as boys, weren't we, Darcy?"

Not the way that Will remembered it, they weren't. Oh, Wickham had certainly spent a lot of time in his company; their fathers had been friends and they had inevitably been thrown together as a result of this. But Will had never liked the boy, and he didn't like the man.

"You've never mentioned George, Will," Elizabeth said, looking puzzled.

"No," he agreed. She looked at him expectantly, but he remained silent. There was plenty that he could say about Wickham, but none of it was pleasant. And sadly, his manners meant that it was impossible to insult the man at a party. Not so much because he cared about Wickham, but because it would upset the other guests. William was always aware of common courtesy, never more so than when his deepest desire was to ignore it.

Wickham smirked, clearly enjoying Will's discomfort. Will - not a violent man by any means - had a sudden urge to punch him. It wasn't actually a new experience - Wickham had led him to murderous impulses in the past too, although he'd never acted on them.

Elizabeth apparently sensed the tension in the air around the two men, because she excused herself and Will and dragged him off to a secluded table.

"What's going on?" she demanded, hands on hips. "How do you know George?"

"His father and mine were friends. He used to visit with Mr Wickham. We were expected to play together."

"And..."

"And what?"

"And why were you giving him a death stare."

"I don't like him."

"Why on earth not?"

"It's not important."

"Of course it's important!" Elizabeth sounded exasperated.

"It's not. Just drop it, Elizabeth, okay?" Will's tone warned that argument was futile. Fortunately, Elizabeth seemed to take the hint and the subject was dropped.

Wickham's arrival had essentially killed any enjoyment Will might have gained from the evening. Elizabeth kept shooting him questioning looks - she might have had the sense not to vocalise her curiosity, but it was clear that she wanted to know what was going on - and Will found himself dwelling on how much he disliked being in Wickham's company. The man appeared to be everything that was amiable, but Will knew that he was not. He was only too happy to leave the party early, and to allow the pleasures of Elizabeth's body to erase his memories of a childhood nemesis.

Elizabeth was having a hard day. It wasn't actually particularly unusual for her to have a hard day; it was part of the job description, she supposed. That didn't make it any less difficult, however. She did occasionally think about William and how he'd suggested she find a different career. At her worst moments she admitted that he might have a point, but being as stubborn as she was, she refused to allow him to know this. More importantly, she'd spent a long time and a lot of money getting the qualifications she needed to become a solicitor, and even if the job wasn't always the most exciting or satisfying, she did enjoy the thrill of winning a case. It was just that sometimes the cases themselves were so very harrowing.

"You okay, Lizzy?" Emma asked, and she realised that she was rubbing her temples absent-mindedly.

"I'm fine," she nodded, knowing that it wasn't entirely true, but not willing to admit otherwise. "When Mrs Griffiths arrives send her in, would you? I wasn't as long with Mr Mullins as I'd thought I might be."

"Sure," Emma nodded. "Do you want a cup of tea? You look like you need something!"

"Tea would be lovely," Elizabeth smiled. "I can make it for myself, though. Tea making isn't really a part of your job, you know."

"Try telling George that," Emma sighed theatrically. "Mr Wickham seems to think that secretaries are there solely to see to his whims."

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow.

"I wouldn't put it past him," Emma said, acknowledging Elizabeth's unspoken insinuation. "Fortunately I am more than able to put randy boys off. It's the school-teacher look, don't you know?"

Elizabeth laughed. Anyone less like a school-teacher than Emma was hard to imagine. She was slim, blonde, and had curves in all the right places. She was almost pin-up perfect - from a male perspective. At least, Elizabeth imagined that she was, not being a male herself she couldn't say so definitively.

"Thanks for the offer Em," Elizabeth smiled. "I'll be back to my dictation now, shall ?" The reception phone rang before Emma had a chance to reply, so the secretary simply nodded and waved her hand at Lizzy in acknowledgement.

Returning to her office and her dictation, Elizabeth set the kettle to boil and settled down to work. It was a busy afternoon - Mrs Griffiths was going through a messy divorce and custody battle, and the woman was fairly emotional. Lizzy had learnt to keep a box of tissues on standby for their appointments. Mr Griffiths was apparently gay, but saw no problem in remaining with his wife and children. Mrs Griffiths, whilst she was unhappy about ending the marriage, pointed out that to stay with her husband was to live a lie. Mr Griffiths responded by petitioning for custody of their three children. And thus a nightmare was begun. Using a combination of sympathy and firmness, Elizabeth managed to get her client to focus on the legal issues, but in truth she thought the case resembled a plot line in EastEnders.

Mrs Griffiths was followed by Mrs Vernon, a new client, in her early sixties, if Lizzy judged her age correctly. When Lizzy asked how she could help, Mrs Vernon announced that she wanted a divorce. When Elizabeth explained that divorce needed grounds, the woman went into embarrassing detail about her sex life. It was more information than Lizzy cared to be exposed to, but she carefully guarded her reaction.

By the end of the day Elizabeth was only too ready to go home. Sadly, she had some paperwork that desperately needed her attention, and so found herself at the photocopier at twenty-five minutes past five. To her surprise, George Wickham joined her there.

"You still working, Lizzy?"

"For my sins, yeah," she agreed, looking at him curiously. She hadn't really seen him since the office party two weeks ago, but she hadn't forgotten the strange animosity that William seemed to have for George, either. It intrigued and perplexed her. She wasn't a huge George fan - in truth she hardly knew him - but she didn't see anything overly objectionable about him either.

"How long have you and Darcy been together?" he asked, casually.

"Since New Year," she said, looking up from her photocopying. "We hooked up at midnight. Very romantic."

"He always was good with the women," George shook his head. "Excellent taste, too."

"Thanks, I think," Lizzy smiled.

"Do you fancy going out for a drink after work?"

"Oh, no - William's meeting me here today - he's finishing early for once. In fact, I expect him any minute."

"Really..."

"Yeah. He's a real sweetie. But I'm sure you already know that, if you knew him when you were little."

"Oh, I knew him. Very well, as it happens." There was an odd note to his voice, and Lizzy looked at him questioningly. It was then that she realised he'd invaded her personal space so that there were barely three inches between their faces.

"Um, George..." she pushed against his chest, but he was immovable.

"Shh, Lizzy. I've seen how you look at me. I know you want this."

"No, I-" Lizzy began to object, but Wickham took advantage of her open mouth to kiss her. He thrust his tongue into her mouth, and thrust suggestively. Lizzy pushed frantically against him, but he was much stronger than she was. Panicking, she moved against him, desperate to get away. Unfortunately, in doing so, she inadvertently aroused him further.

"What the fuck are you doing with my girlfriend?"

Will was having a good day. He'd delivered two babies and confirmed the pregnancies of three women. These were the joyous moments of his career that made it all worthwhile. One of his patients had been told that she was infertile, and was rendered speechless by his confirmation of her pregnancy, her partner hardly less so. It made him wonder what it might be like to be in the same position. Of course, Elizabeth didn't want children, but he was hoping to work around that, so the point was moot.

He was particularly happy because he was finishing early, and would be able to meet Elizabeth at her office. He had the whole evening planned; it was a Friday, and Elizabeth had agreed to stay with him for the weekend, so he had booked tickets to the ballet and a table for two at one of his favourite restaurants. He'd also ensured that there were strawberries in the fridge at home for later on.

Walking down the road to Elizabeth's office, he mused on his plans for the evening. He was hoping that they might utilise the large tub in his bathroom; it was easily big enough for two people, and had a jacuzzi function that he knew Elizabeth would love. He smiled, imagining her expression of pleasure, and opened the front door to the office.

Elizabeth had warned him that she might be in her office, but had given him directions on how to find her if she wasn't waiting for him. He duly followed her instructions, only to be caught up short as he walked past a different room by a voice he knew all too well.

"Shh, Lizzy. I've seen how you look at me. I know you want this."

Wickham? And Elizabeth? Will felt as though his whole world had disintegrated. Surely there must be an explanation. His feet moved with a mind of their own, entering the office. Elizabeth was flagrantly pressed up against Wickham's body, and the man was obviously deriving great pleasure. He appeared to be eating her too. Furious, Will couldn't control himself.

"What the fuck are you doing with my girlfriend?" he demanded, prepared to tear George limb from limb.

Lazily, George looked up, and Will caught a glimpse of Lizzy's flushed countenance.

"Your girlfriend, is she?" George asked, his tone jeering. "It doesn't look that way to me. She was positively gagging for it!" He remained in his position in front of Elizabeth, but Will was too furious to register this fact.

"Get away from her. Now." His tone was dangerously quiet. George laughed, full of bravado, but did as he was told.

"Elizabeth." Will stared at her, chilled to the bone. "We need to talk." He marched out of the room, expecting her to follow him. She dutifully did so, but instead of following him to the reception area, she turned towards her office. Will grasped her wrist to stop her.

"I need my jacket." He nodded, and let go, glancing at his watch as he waited for her. She reappeared shortly, he jacket over her arm, and he frogmarched her out of the building and to his car. Once inside, he let rip.

"George Wickham? Of all the scoundrels to cheat with, you chose George Wickham?"

"Will, please, it's not like that!" Elizabeth stared at her formerly gentle and compassionate partner, wondering if he had been abducted and replaced by aliens. She had never seen him so furious. Shaking as a result of George's assault, she found that she was not up to accounting for her actions to him, particularly as she had nothing to account for. George had assaulted her. Pure and simple. And if Will believed otherwise then he was a fool.

"I saw, Elizabeth! I saw you, rubbing up against him. Am I not enough for you? I should have known, with your upbringing, it was too much to expect you to stick to one man at a time!" he roared.

"What the fuck? You bastard!"

"I'm a bastard? I'm a bastard? Who was it getting up close and personal with MY WORST ENEMY! I thought we had something special Elizabeth! I thought I meant something to you!"

"You did! You do!"

"Sure. I believe you. That's why he had his TONGUE DOWN YOUR THROAT!"

"I was not kissing George Wickham." Elizabeth said, with dignity.

"I saw you, Elizabeth." Will's brown eyes snapped furiously. "I know you too well to think that you'd allow such liberties unless you wanted them."

"No, Will," Elizabeth said, sadly. "You don't know me at all." She climbed out of the car and slammed the door.

In spite of the summer heat, she found herself shivering. Her throat ached with suppressed tears. She had thought he loved her. He had told her he did. But love did not fall apart at the first hurdle. Will had truly believed that she had cheated on him. He didn't even ask for an explanation. He was judge and jury and she had been condemned. She glanced back towards his car. It was still there, but he was making no move to follow her. Choking back a sob, she walked down the road, desperate to get home. She wanted a shower and she wanted her cat. Later, perhaps, she would want Jane, but right now all she could think about was her desire to scrub Wickham off of her body and her need to cuddle someone as uncritical as Haydn.

She descended into the tube station, oblivious to all the odd looks she was getting as tears ran unhindered down her cheeks. She was not even aware that she was crying.

After Elizabeth left the car, Will stared out of the front window. He couldn't believe that she had betrayed him. With that scum Wickham. It didn't seem right, somehow. It wasn't right. If he hadn't seen them together, he wouldn't have believed it. But he had seen them together, and it was true. Elizabeth, like so many women before her, had been charmed by Wickham, blinded to all the faults of his character than made Will dislike him so much. Chief amongst those was Wickham's propensity for stealing Will's girlfriends. They had flocked to him like bees to honey, and Will had never understood why. He knew that Wickham was more gregarious than he was, but he also knew that his character was more robust. Not for nothing had Wickham been known as 'Love-em-and-leave-em' at university. Fortunately, William had not attended university with him, but the man had boasted loudly enough about the appellation that it was impossible not to be aware of it.

He turned the key in the ignition and drove back to the town house. He wanted nothing more than to sit in his study with a good whiskey and dwell. He was numb now, but for his bewilderment and sense of betrayal. The halcyon days of his relationship with Elizabeth Bennet had turned into a nightmare.

Elizabeth, wrapped in a towelling dressing-gown, snuggled Haydn to her. “He didn't even ask for an explanation,” she told the cat, willing herself not to cry again. “He just assumed. He really believed it, puss. He believed that I could be that bad a person. After all that we have been through together, he really believed it.”

She flicked through the Radio Times absent mindedly, not really noticing anything. The words blurred before her eyes, but she steadfastly refused to cry. He was not worth crying over. To cry would be to mourn a dream, and Elizabeth Bennet did not deal with dreams. She dealt with reality. It was just that her reality was no longer that which she had imagined it to be.

She clicked the radio on, desperate to dispel the imposing silence of her home. Natalie Imbruglia was singing. She had always loved the song, but today it was far too apropos to be anything other than harrowing to listen to. Nevertheless, in an effort to keep things normal, she sang along, just as she would have done on any other day.

Well you couldn't be that man I adored
You don't seem to know
Seem to care what your heart is for
But I don't know him anymore
There's nothing where he used to lie
The conversation has run dry
That's what's going on
Nothing's fine I'm torn

She felt the tears trickle down her cheeks as she acknowledged the truth in the lyrics. The warm and loving man that she had fallen in love with had turned into a cold and forbidding presence. He was justified in being upset - if the situation had been reversed she would have been too, but he should have been more willing to listen to her. He should have listened.

I'm all out of faith
This is how I feel
I'm cold and I am shamed
Lying naked on the floor
Illusion never changed
Into something real
I'm wide awake
And I can see
The perfect sky is torn
You're a little late
I'm already torn

Angrily, she clicked the radio off, and wandered into her bedroom. She sat down in front of the mirror and stared at her reflection. She didn't look all that different this evening than she had done this morning, yet she felt as though she had been torn in two. It was over. She had thought that she could have a relationship, that she could be loved. It was an illusion, and that illusion had been shattered. Its shards were piercing her soul. Choking on her sobs, she threw herself on to the bed and allowed herself to feel the pain of betrayal.


Chapter 13 - Wondering

Elizabeth staggered to the toilet, falling over the bowl just in time to retch. Dry heaves wracked her body, which had been purging itself systematically for the past twenty-four hours. When the paroxysms were over she rested her forehead against the cool porcelain. In the background, the Corrs played on the radio, compounding her misery.

“Sick,” she muttered, unable to form a coherent sentence. Wine was the last thing on her mind. “Jane.” She needed to let someone know she was sick. Needed for Jane to call her regularly. She could feel that she wasn't right, knew that the stomach bug combined with her diabetes was sending her sugar levels dangerously high. Stumbling slightly, she headed towards the bed, grabbing the phone and shakily dialling her sister's number.

“Hello, Jane speaking.”

“Jane.”

“Lizzy? Is that you?”

“Sick.”

“Lizzy?”

“Need you.”

“Are you okay?”

“Sick.”

“I'll be right over.”

“Hurry.”

Monosyllables were about all that Lizzy could manage. She reached for the blood testing machine by her bed, watching her hand shake as she did so. She fumbled whilst attempting to insert a testing strip into the machine, inwardly cursing as it refused to do what she wanted. Eventually she was successful. With a shaking hand, she picked up finger-pricker, and tried to get some blood from her fingertip. She found that she had difficulty - she was feeling weak and even the simple task of pressing the lanclet to her finger was causing problems. Persevering, she managed to squeeze a droplet of blood on to the test strip, and waited for the results to come up. The acceptable range for a normal person was between 4 and 8. When the screen returned a result of 18, Elizabeth fought the urge to laugh. As if she hadn't already guessed. She needed insulin. She started, wondering how she was supposed to manage to inject herself when she could barely hold a strip of paper. Knowing that it simply wasn't possible, she reached instead for the ever-present glass of water by her bedside. If she couldn't lower her levels through injecting then she would have to use good old fashioned osmosis. She fell back against her pillows and, with an effort, began sipping through the straw.

By the time Jane arrived, Elizabeth was retching again. The water idea was a good one, but she found that she couldn't keep it down for long enough for it to have an effect.

“Lizzy!” Jane rushed to her sister's side and began to gather her hair up in a loose ponytail. “What's the matter, sweetie?”

“No idea,” Elizabeth choked out between spasms.

“Have you checked your blood?”

“Too high.”

“Have you had your injection?”

“Can't.”

“Have you checked for ketones, Lizzy?”

“Nup.”

“Perhaps you should.” Jane offered her support in getting Elizabeth back to the relative safety of her bed. Breathing fast, Elizabeth proffered her finger, and Jane repeated the earlier test, this time looking for the level of ketones in Elizabeth's blood. Ketones meant Ketoacidosis. In a nutshell, because she couldn't hold her food down, her body was burning fat, but there wasn't enough insulin in her body to deal with the acids released from said fat, causing her sugar levels to rise, and with that the level of ketones in her blood. It meant her diabetes was out of control. It meant hospitalisation. She hated hospitalisation. She glanced at her sister, and noticed Jane's worried frown.

“It's too high, Lizzy. Looks like we're in for a trip to the hospital.”

“Jolly good,” Elizabeth muttered, feeling her eyelids drooping. She was too tired for all of this, but she knew that she needed to keep awake, that to fall asleep would be inviting disaster, but she couldn't find the willpower to open her eyes again.

It had been three weeks since they had broken up, yet thoughts of William still tortured Elizabeth's dreams. She knew that he had been in the wrong, that she was justified in her actions. But she couldn't help wondering whether that made them right. But Will had hurt her. And, floating on the edge of a reality she couldn't quite reach, she found that she wanted to know why. What had turned him against her so quickly? Groaning, she clutched her stomach involuntarily. But she remained beyond the realm of the awake, hazy on what was real and what was not. In her mind's eye, she saw William as he had been that first night they had spent together, tender and loving, and then the view changed suddenly to his menacing visage as he had castigated her for her association with George Wickham, a man that she didn't even like.

“Lizzy? Lizzy, wake up!” A vague voice punctuated her thoughts, recalling her to the present. Jane. She fought to reach her sister, her eyelids flickering as she desperately sought to regain consciousness. “Come on, Elizabeth, now is not the time to do this to me!” Jane sounded cross. Elizabeth tried to frown - Jane was never cross.

“Damn you, Lizzy,” she heard Jane swear, still far removed from her. Then she heard, from a great distance, her sister conversing on the phone.

She was vaguely aware of strange voices, of being moved onto a stretcher, of the faint wailing of sirens, but it was a long time before Elizabeth fully regained her senses.

Her eyes flickered open, and she fought to focus the bright lights about her, knowing that she was not in her bed at home and wondering why. She flickered her eyes to the left and saw her sister, keeping anguished vigil at her bedside.

“Jane,” she said, her voice croaking with a lack of usage. “Where am I?”

“Lizzy!” Jane caught her sister's hand in her own and squeezed it, a beam spreading across her lovely face. “Oh, thank God. Don't you ever scare me like that again, young lady!”

“What happened? Where am I?”

“You passed out. Gave me the scare of my life! I nearly had the baby there and then from sheer panic!” Jane patted her large stomach, smiling gently. “We're at Tommy's. I had to get an ambulance to get you here - I couldn't lift you on my own. You were having a hypo.”

“I was sick,” Elizabeth nodded her agreement. “Really sick. Urgh.” She pulled a face. “I am never eating sushi again.”

“They've put you on a drip. It should get your levels back to normal. I think they want to keep you in for a day or so to check that everything's back to normal.”

“Oh, God! Do I have to?”

“Yes,” Jane said, scowling at her. “I know you hate hospitals, Lizzy, but I wasn't joking when I said you scared me. Never ever do that again. Why didn't you call me when you first started being sick?”

“It was just a stomach bug,” Elizabeth pointed out. “I didn't want to make a fuss.”

“You know better than that. It's never just a stomach bug. You're supposed to call me if you're sick.”

“You have better things to do than monitor your little sister. Like planning your baby's nursery.”

“The baby has another few weeks before it shows up. And I'd quite like him or her to have an auntie here to greet her. It was serious, Lizzy.”

“I'm sorry.” Elizabeth gave her sister a tentative smile.

“I know. Next time, though, do you think you could call a bit earlier?”

Elizabeth nodded. “When do I get to go home?”

“When they're happy you don't have any ketones. You scared me, Lizzy. I was worried you wouldn't wake up!”

“I'm sorry, Jane. I'm okay now, I promise - well; as okay as one can be, stuck in a hospital bed with a drip attached.”

Jane looked as if she might say something more, but was prevented from doing so by the entrance of a young doctor. He was frowning slightly, but smiled when he saw that Elizabeth was awake.

“Ah, Miss Bennet! Welcome back! I'm Doctor Richardson, and I'm looking after you today. How are you feeling?”

“Much better, thank you. Is there any chance I might get to go home?”

“It's unlikely,” the doctor admitted. “Ketoacidosis is very serious, Miss Bennet. It can be fatal.”

“I am aware of that, doctor.” Elizabeth was aware that she sounded vaguely defensive, but she couldn't help it. She was the one who had to live with diabetes, and she certainly knew the risks. In some cases, though, with the best will in the world it was impossible to prevent things from happening. She told the doctor as much.

“I understand. There are further complications with your condition, though. Can you tell me when you last menstruated?”

“No.” It was blunt but effective. “I've never been exactly regular - I take the pill, but it doesn't always have much of an effect on the frequency of my periods.”

“Okay.” Doctor Richardson frowned as he scribbled something on the clipboard he was holding. “Were you planning a pregnancy at all, Miss Bennet?”

“No,” Elizabeth looked at him, concerned at the tone of his questions.

“But you've been in a relationship recently?”

“Yes. Can I ask why you need to know this?”

“I'm sorry - I understand that this must seem unnecessary to you. The thing is, we did a routine pregnancy test when you came in…”

“Yes…” Elizabeth had a huge sense of foreboding.

“It came back positive.”

“But…that's impossible! We took precautions!”

“The pill? I'm assuming you take the progesterone-only pill because of your diabetes?”

“That's right.”

“It has up to a 4% fail rate. It's entirely possible that you are one of the unlucky ones. You haven't been on antibiotics recently?”

“No. Nothing like that… This is unbelievable!”

“It's okay, Lizzy,” Jane looked as shocked as Elizabeth felt, but she placed a reassuring hand on her sister's forearm.

“There are some complications,” the doctor said, hesitantly.

Bring it on, Lizzy thought. It wasn't like she hadn't had her world shaken enough for one day.

“This episode of ketoacidosis…it's almost invariably fatal for the baby. There's a risk of miscarriage at the very least, and even if the baby does survive there's a chance that it might be disabled in some way.”

“Almost invariably? So the baby might be fine?” Elizabeth didn't like the idea of her unborn child suffering. She hadn't quite grasped the fact that it was hers, but she knew that she didn't want it to have problems. “So the baby could be fine.”

“It's unlikely, but there is a slight chance that it is, essentially, unaffected.”

“So, what do I do?” Elizabeth looked at Doctor Richardson, hoping for some advice.

“You have several options. We don't know how far into gestation you are - usually we calculate based on the date of your last period, but obviously that's not possible in your case. It's unlikely that you're too far gone to be able to consider all of the options.”

“All the options?” Jane asked, suspiciously.

“You mean abortion?” Elizabeth asked, at that same time.

“Abortion is a possibility, yes. With your condition, unplanned pregnancy is very risky. We usually recommend that you get your diabetes fully under control before even considering conceiving. There's also the fact that the baby might have been adversely affected by the ketoacidosis - it's important that you know you're not backed into a corner at this stage.”

“So…what happens next?”

“Next we get you booked in for a scan - then we can see whether there are any problems with the baby. We'll run some tests on you too - it's possible that the pregnancy might be responsible for your difficulty in holding things down. We'll also get you booked in to see the Diabetic Nurse, who will be able to advise you on the best course of action, and of course you'll need to see the Ob/Gyn people.”

Elizabeth stared at him, shellshocked by the bomb that he had dropped into her lap. She barely registered the rest of the conversation; she was too busy dwelling on the implications of the pregnancy he had just announced. It struck her as unfair that ten minutes of his day had irrevocably changed her life. No matter what decision she made she was never going to be quite the same, knowing that she had conceived a child and that her inability to manage her diabetes had jeopardised that child's health.

“You okay, Lizzy?” Jane asked, her hand caressing her bump. The unconscious gesture brought a lump to Elizabeth's throat. That could be her in a few months time.

“I'm fine,” she said, even though it was a blatant lie. For one thing, she was surrounded by IVs and sick people, and for another, she had just discovered she was carrying the child of the man who had broken her heart.

“What do you think you'll do?”

“I have no idea.”

“Abortion?” Jane looked horrified by the suggestion, but Elizabeth was numbed reactions - including her own.

“You heard the doctor. It's a possibility.” She sighed. “Is it fair to bring a child into the world if it's going to have no quality of life? Wouldn't it be fairer never to let it develop that far?”

“Do you have the right to play God?” Jane countered. “Do you want to?”

“No.” Elizabeth was sure on that front. “No, I don't. But then, I didn't particularly want to be sick. I didn't ask to be impregnated. And if I had to be pregnant, I sure as hell didn't want to be pregnant and facing the fact that my child might be a vegetable.” Suddenly she was consumed with anger. Anger at her sister for having everything, the perfect husband, the perfect pregnancy. Anger with Will for getting her into this situation. Anger with herself for not being in control. “Don't judge me, Jane. I never asked to be here. Should I have an abortion? I don't know, but you have no right to suggest that if I do I am in some way playing God!”

Jane had nothing to say to that. She simply looked at Lizzy, her face a mirror for her feelings. Hurt was strongly present, as were confusion and bewilderment. Pulling herself together, she leaned forward to embrace her sister as best she could.

“Don't worry just yet, Lizzy. The scan will tell you whether the baby has been harmed. Concentrate on getting better.”

“It might take nine months,” Elizabeth pointed out bitterly.

Jane just sighed and hugged her all the harder.

It didn't take the hospital very long to arrange for an ultrasound scan for Elizabeth. She supposed that it was important they established whether her baby was even alive before they proceeded with their treatment. Thus it was that she found herself lying on a bed with some sort of Vaseline spread over her - still flat - stomach.

The radiographer moved the wand around her stomach, looking for signs of life, or so Elizabeth assumed. Idly, she watched the screen. There was a small blob, much like an alien. That poor baby's got two heads, she thought, with detachment.

“Do you see that?” the radiographer asked. Lizzy nodded, not really seeing anything except that the baby was horribly deformed. “It's twins,” the radiographer beamed at her.”

Twins?! Elizabeth looked up at that, shocked into a response. It appeared that it wasn't just one baby she had to deal with, but two.

“They look okay - strong heart beats, look.” The radiographer indicated some blobs in the middle of the screen. “There are no problems that I can see. You're probably about six weeks along, dear.”

Six weeks. A month and a half. It was late August now, which meant that the babies had been conceived in mid-July. Elizabeth nodded her thanks.

“Would you like a picture?” The radiographer smiled, and took Elizabeth's silence for an affirmative. Ten minutes later, rather dazed, clutching a small picture of a blob - or two - as though it was a lifeline, Elizabeth returned to her ward.

The next morning Jane arrived to visit Elizabeth, anxious to hear what the scan had revealed.

“Do you want the good news or the bad news?” Lizzy asked.

“Good,” Jane said, raising her hand to her mouth as if to gnaw her fingernails. It was a childhood habit that Lizzy thought she had outgrown. Out of ingrained habit, she reached out to prevent the nail mutilation.

“The good news is that the baby seems to be fine. The heart is beating, and they can't see any abnormalities. I'm about six weeks gone, they think.”

“Right. And the bad news?”

“There are two babies.”

Jane looked at her, gobsmacked. “Two? Twins?”

“Yep.” Elizabeth was surprisingly cheerful about things. It was amazing what discovering that your babies were alive and well did to your mood. She also suspected that the absence of vomiting, courtesy of the IV, was having a positive effect on her. “Two babies. Twins. I nearly had a heart attack.”

“What are you going to do?” Jane asked, anxiously.

“Keep them.” Elizabeth was succinct. “There's no contest, really. They're healthy, and I can afford to look after them. Seeing them on that screen - it makes them real. I can't not have them.”

“Are you sure about this?” Jane asked, but she was smiling.

“Positive.”

“What about Will?”

“What about him?” Elizabeth had considered this question herself; or rather she had thought about it and decided against considering it.

“Doesn't he deserve to know? He is their father, after all.”

“Yes,” Elizabeth sighed. “It's a tricky one. It would be wrong not to tell him, I know that. But right now I've barely taken it in myself. I don't want to let him know until I've worked out how I'm going to support them and what we're going to do. We won't be able to stay in the flat, for instance - there's not enough space for three people in there. I want to present him with a fait accompli.”

“I hate to point this out, Lizzy, but this is a fait accompli. The babies are there. Will can't do anything about that.”

“No, but I know him. He'll want to take over. He'll probably want to keep them for himself. I don't want that.”

“That's a bit unfair, don't you think?” Jane looked troubled. Elizabeth knew that her sister had been upset by her split with Will. Charles' friendship with the man had put the Bingleys into a difficult position, she realised. In some respects it would be better if Jane wasn't aware of her pregnancy - that way she wouldn't feel that her loyalties were in conflict.

“I don't know, Jane,” Lizzy admitted, looking sad. “I don't know what to think anymore. He didn't let me explain or anything. He made his decision and he stuck to it. Who knows how he'll react to this.”

“He's a reasonable man. He'll understand.”

“He'll probably think that I did it on purpose to get child maintenance from him,” Elizabeth said gloomily. “It's not like he has a particularly high opinion of me, after all.”

“I'm sure that was a misunderstanding, you know. If you'd just talk to each other, it could be sorted out.”

“He accused me of cheating without any real evidence and didn't give me a chance to defend myself. I don't see how anyone can misunderstand that!”

“Neither of you has given the other a chance,” Jane pointed out, gently. “If you weren't so stubborn then there wouldn't be a problem.”

Elizabeth raised a dubious eyebrow at her sister, but refused to comment. She wasn't convinced by Jane's arguments, but telling her so wasn't going to stop her from making them, and Lizzy really wasn't in the mood. She had enough on her plate attempting to sort out a life with two new additions, without worrying about William Darcy and his insecurities. And never mind that at one time in the not so distant past his insecurities had been some of his more endearing attributes.

“I wonder how good Haydn will be with children,” Elizabeth pondered, suddenly worried about her cat. “You have been feeding him, haven't you?”

“Regularly. He's going to get fat. He also misses you, and is very vocal about it.”

“I miss him too. Give him a kiss from me.”

“I think I'll pass, but I'll send the love on,” Jane grimaced. She wasn't a cat person, and Haydn delighted in provoking her. The two had a love-hate relationship - Jane loved to hate Haydn and the cat just plain loved Jane.

Elizabeth's change of subject ensured that they moved away from discussing her relationship - or lack thereof - with Will. She was grateful for this. She still missed him, and knowing that she carried his children was not helping with that. She was still hurt by the speed in which he had concluded that she was cheating on him and the way that he had ended their relationship, but she knew that she still loved him.

“It's probably a good thing,” she whispered to her stomach when Jane had left. She had happy memories, after all, and her children had been conceived in love. “We have to tell your Daddy about you,” she added, wondering about her sanity as she did so. “Goodness knows how he will react. He's a very clever man, your Daddy, and he'll make sure that you're healthy and happy when you're born. As for me - I'll just love you and provide you with a home. It's a pretty good deal, really.” At least, it was a good deal for the babies. As for Lizzy herself…only time would tell.

Will missed Lizzy. He didn't like to admit as much to himself, but without her he was miserable. He had grown used to her companionship in the early mornings and late at night. He'd wanted to make it permanent, as she had guessed. And then she had betrayed him, and now he was hurting and missing her, and he was coping with his loss in his usual fashion: he threw himself into his work. Always a dedicated doctor, he took to working even longer shifts, staying later to catch up on paperwork, and avoiding home like the plague.

It was a rare day that he actually saw Kate now - he was usually out of the house before she had a chance to see him, visiting the gym before continuing to work. By the time he got home, Kate had usually gone to bed. She always left him food and a note, but in truth he was rarely hungry. In the past weeks he had lost weight. Kate tutted whenever she did see him, and plied him with his favourite desserts, which he tried to eat to humour her. But as with so many things, eating has lost its allure now that Elizabeth wasn't there to show her appreciation of fine food. With her, dining had been a gourmet experience. Without her, it was just another of life's necessities.

It was a day like any other, and Will arrived at the hospital in plenty of time to begin his shift. He was greeted by his friend and colleague, Edmund Bertram A couple of years younger than Will, Ed was one of the Senior House Officers within Obstetrics.

“Can you do me a favour, Will?” Ed asked, after they had exchanged greetings.

“It depends what it is,” Will said, hedging his bets. Ed wasn't one for practical jokes, but one could never be too careful.

“My mother's coming up to town this afternoon for a check-up, and she really wants me to go with her - to interpret the jargon, she says. Thing is, I'm supposed to be with a patient. You wouldn't cover for me, would you?” Mrs Bertram had been suffering from breast cancer, but had recently gone into remission. It was understandable that she wanted her son with her at this, her first post-treatment check-up, and Will was happy to agree.

“Make sure the files are sent to my office,” he reminded Ed. “Hopefully I'll have a chance to look through them before I see anyone, but if not, no worries. It's all straight-forward, right?”

“As far as I know, but I haven't had a chance to look myself, yet.”

“Don't worry about it. I'll take the cases, and if there are any problems, I'll deal with them.”

“Cheers, Will. I'll make it up to you.”

“You'd better,” Will smiled. Ed waved, and continued towards his office. Opening his own door, Will studied his room objectively, wondering - as he did sporadically - if there was any way to make it more welcoming for patients. It was decorated in standard hospital colours, but there wasn't much he could do about that. He had brightened it up with some prints he had found in the attics at Pemberley, and there was a large pot plant in the corner - Kate had assured him that a plant worked wonders for stress levels. He had several photos of Georgiana around the room, as well as a photograph of his parents on their wedding day. It wasn't special, he supposed, but short of installing a coffee machine - and there was a perfectly good one of those in the waiting room, anyway - he didn't see what else he could do to improve it. He smiled. It was always nice to feel that something was going right.

The day passed with surprising speed, and all too soon Will realised that he was covering Ed's first patient in five minutes. He was about to study the file when a call came through for him. One of his patients had slight bleeding and was worried that it might be a problem. It was nothing that the midwife couldn't deal with, but Will understood that pregnant women were not always the most rational of people. Before he really had a chance to think about it, he realised that he was calling his next patient.

“Miss Bennet,” he said, reading the name on the file. His heart leapt for a moment, before he scolded himself - Bennet wasn't exactly an unusual name, after all. Besides, what would Elizabeth be doing seeing an obstetrician. They'd been careful - there was no chance that she could be pregnant.

He looked up, to see a dark curly head moving in his direction. It's owner was petite, her figure etched in his memory. He wondered if he was hallucinating - what on earth was she doing here? Realising that he was staring, he fought to get a grip on his emotions.

“Doctor Darcy,” she nodded, as she passed through the door.

“Elizabeth,” he said, not noticing his use of her given name. He stared at her, unsure of what to say.

“I-“ she began, as he started to speak. “You first,” she said, keeping her expression neutral, although her eyes gave away her unease.

“How can I help you today?”

“I thought I was seeing Doctor Bertram,” she said, inconsequentially. “That's what they said downstairs.”

“Downstairs? He glanced down at her file, and noticed that she was an inpatient. “You're staying here? What's wrong?”

“Other than the obvious?” she asked, wryly, unable to meet his eye. “I had ketones,” she explained. “Kept being sick. Have you actually read my notes?”

Well, she was nothing if not direct, he'd give her that.

“No - Doctor Bertram only passed them on to me this morning, and I've been busy all day.” He wondered why he was making excuses to her. He hadn't done anything wrong, after all.

“Right. Do you want to?”

“I'm sorry?”

“Do you want to read my notes?”

“How about you tell me why you're here, and if I need to look at your notes I will.” Will fought to keep his demeanour professional.

“Well, obviously, I'm pregnant,” she said, searching his face for his reaction. He didn't disappoint her.

“Pregnant?” he asked, sure that he hadn't heard her properly. “Are you sure?”

“Well, there was a baby on the ultrasound, so I'm pretty certain,” she said, tartly. “Two, actually.”

“Two?” He realised that he sounded like a moron, echoing her. But it was impossible to take it in. “Twins!”

“Twins,” Elizabeth agreed. “They said I had to see an obstetrician because I'm puking left right and centre, and it's really messing up my blood sugar levels, which can't be good for the babies.”

“Hold on,” Will said, trying to take in the information she had given him. In desperation, he referred to her file. She was silent as he read. Six weeks, he thought, as he took in the probable gestation period noted by the radiographer. That meant she had conceived in July. “Is it mine?” he asked, and then mentally kicked himself for asking. The middle of a consultation was not the time to ask personal questions.

“Well, they're certainly not anybody elses,” Elizabeth retorted. “I'd be insulted, but I already know that you hold me in low esteem, so if you could just let me know what to do when, I'd really appreciate it.”

He read through her notes again, asking her pertinent questions this time, before giving her his diagnosis.

“I'd guess that you've got hyperemesis gravidarum,” he said. “That basically means acute morning sickness,” he added.

“I know,” she said, and he remembered that her degree was in Modern and Medieval Languages. Of course she knew.

“Usually we try dry food - crackers, toast, that kind of thing, and see if you can keep that down,” he said, maintaining his detachment with difficulty. “It seems that they've tried that downstairs with no success,” he added, checking her notes again. “We can prescribe some anti-nausea tablets, which should help.”

“If they don't?”

“If they don't then you'll be put on an IV. But the drugs should work. It's important that we monitor you, though - if you can't keep anything down then it will interfere with weight gain. It can also cause dehydration. Both of which are dangerous for you and the babies, especially when we throw diabetes into the mix.”

“Right. So, what happens now?”

“First, I give you a prescription, and once they discharge you downstairs you should be able to try that and see if it helps. We'll arrange a follow-up appointment, and see how things go.”

“The follow up will be with Doctor Bertram?”

“If that's what you want,” he agreed, feeling as though he had been punched in the gut.

“I do,” she nodded. He scribbled her a prescription and handed it over. “Thank you,” she said, turning to leave. As she touched the door handle, William stopped her.

“Elizabeth?”

She arched an eyebrow at him in silent question.

“We need to talk.”

Chapter 14 - Right or Wrong

“We have to talk.” It was such a cliché phrase, Will knew, but at this moment there was nothing else that he could say. He was watching the woman who haunted his dreams - a woman he feared had betrayed his trust, a woman who now told him she was carrying his children - and he knew that he had to say something, do something - anything - to make sense of her.

“Not now Will,” she said, sadly, without turning to face him. And then she was gone.

“We need to talk…” Will's question echoed in Elizabeth's brain, even as she dismissed him.

“Later, Will,” she said, tiredly. It was simply too much. They couldn't have this discussion here and now. He had work to do and she… If she was honest, she didn't know what she had to do. She just knew she couldn't deal with confrontation right now. She didn't give Will a chance to push for more; she left the office, her mind ringing with all that he had said.

Is it mine? That question, too telling and too hurtful for her to truly acknowledge, made its way to the forefront of her consciousness. Of course it's yours! Her subconscious railed at him. Whose could it be other than yours? The depths to which her relationship with Will had sunk scared her. She placed a protective hand on her stomach, not wanting her children to suffer from the enmity that he had for their mother. It was palpably unfair, though, to suggest that Will would be anything other than a loving father - always assuming he accepted his paternity.

The worst thing, the thing that she hated more than anything else, was that she still loved him. After everything that had been thrown at them, she still loved him, and she missed him, more than she could ever have imagined that she would.

Back on the ward, she gazed at the scan picture. In some respects she was glad that it had been Will who had done her initial consultation. It took the worry of how to inform him of her condition out of her hands. At the same time, she couldn't help but resent fate for interfering. She hadn't fully come to terms with the enormity of impending motherhood herself, without having to deal with the reactions of other people. It will be all right, she reassured her babies, mentally communicating with them. We'll work it out. I promise. It was strange how attached she was getting to the children. When she got out of the hospital she would have to visit a book shop and get some more information on pregnancy and foetal development.

It will be all right.

Will had always thought of himself as a reasonable man. He was not overly-sentimental, nor was he devoid of feeling. He took things into his stride, and he fixed them. Yet, when Elizabeth Bennet closed the door on him, it was a metaphorical slap in the face. A pang of anguish attacked him, even as he derided himself for his weakness.

There was no time to dwell, not now. He had other patients to see, other work related things to worry about. But he wasn't going to give up until he had spoken to Elizabeth, until he had worked out where it had all gone wrong. If he was the father of her children then he had the right to know what she was planning. If he was the father of her children.

She said that he was, and curiously, he believed her. Or at least, 99.9% of him believed her. He had seen her in a clinch with Wickham, though, and he knew what that man could do. It was all part of an increasingly confused whirl of emotion and fact that his brain seemed incapable of untangling.

By the time he had finished his case-load for the day, it was late. Early evening had given way to the hazy twilight of a summer night. Will found himself unable to leave the hospital without at least seeing Elizabeth again. He needed to know that they would talk, that things would resolve themselves, one way or another. It was a matter of little effort to locate her; the inpatient's wristband gave him enough information to find her using the hospital computer system.

It was with mixed feelings that he made his way to her ward. He was nervous, of course, and confused, and more than a little bit excited. To see her, after so long away from her, was balm to his soul, in spite of his fears. He paused at the entrance to the ward, bracing himself for his reception; in truth he did know what that reception would involve, but he wanted to be prepared. He doubted that he was Elizabeth's favourite person; it wouldn't surprise him if she tried to send him on his way. He had no intention of going, though. Not until she agreed that things between them weren't over.

Firm in the knowledge that what he was doing was right, William wandered nonchalantly to the bay he knew housed Elizabeth's bed. The curtains were not fully drawn about it, and he could see her laying on her side, focusing on a scan photograph, mouthing something. She looked as beautiful as he remembered, in spite of their surroundings, and he found himself wondering how it had come to this.

He stood awkwardly for a while, before she became alert to his presence. When she did, it was almost as though a shutter went down; her gaze became wary, and she tucked the photograph under her pillow, almost as though she was protecting it.

“William,” she said, warily

“Elizabeth,” he said, wondering if it would be inappropriate to smile. “I...” He paused. Now that he was actually with her, he found it much harder to put his thoughts into words. “I needed to see you. We need to talk.”

She nodded and gestured to the chair by her bed, raising herself on her pillows as she did so. Will took the chair with a feeling of relief. At least she hadn't refused to speak to him. That was something.

“How are you feeling?” he asked. It was a stupid question, the kind of pleasantry he would deplore had he been in her position, but it was the best that he could do.

“I've been better,” she said wryly, a flash of the old Elizabeth in her tone.

“I guess it's all a bit much,” he agreed. There was an awkward pause, and then they both spoke at the same time.

“I-”

“So-”

Elizabeth gestured for him to go first.

“I came to apologise,” he said, surprising himself. That hadn't been part of what he'd planned when he'd came here, but now that he had said it he knew that it was true. “Earlier, when you told me-” he paused, unsure what to say, but she nodded, and encouraged, he continued. “I shouldn't have said what I did. If you carry a child then it is mine.”

“Children, actually.”

“Yes, children,” he nodded. And then it hit him. “Children. Two babies. Jesus, I'm going to be a father!”

“Do you want to see them?” she asked, shyly.

“Yes! Yes, of course!”

Elizabeth fished the photograph out from under her pillow and held it out to him. He took it, with slightly trembling hand.

“They don't really look like babies yet,” she said, cocking her head to one side. “More like beans. But they're there.”

“They're...” He was speechless. In his hand he held evidence of his relationship with the woman before him, evidence of the love they had borne for each other. The love he still felt for her, underneath the hurt.

“It's a lot to take in,” Elizabeth said. “A lot to think about. That's what I've been doing, mostly. Thinking.”

He looked at her, enquiring.

“It was never part of my game plan to be a single mother,” she said, with an almost bitter laugh. “It certainly wasn't part of my grand scheme to be pregnant at my age. I've hardly considered children, and now I'm going to have two of them. There's so much to think about...” She gestured helplessly. “I'll have to find somewhere else to live - they'll never fit in my flat. A new job, eventually; working for the firm isn't exactly going to meld well with looking after them, and childcare costs would take up every spare penny I had. And God only knows how I am going to tell my mother...”

“I want to be their father, Elizabeth.” He said it as firmly as he dared. “They're my babies too.”

“And how unfortunate that is,” she snapped. “You were all too ready to dismiss me not so long ago. What makes you so sure they're yours now?”

“I know you,” he said, simply. “You're not the type of woman to do that.”

“Strange,” she mused, acidly. “It seems that you were perfectly willing to believe that I was exactly that type of woman.”

“No! I never believed that of you... It was Wickham. He can't be trusted. Women, they don't understand how dangerous he is, they fall for him.”

“He is a smarmy arsehole,” Elizabeth snapped. “And don't try and bullshit me. If you believed that I was voluntarily making out with Wickham - in my office, of all places - then you believed that I was capable of cheating, which means that you cannot be sure of your paternity of my children. You can't have it both ways, Mr Darcy.”

Ouch. That hurt. She hadn't called him 'Mr Darcy' in that tone for a long time.

“I was wrong,” he admitted. “I should never have flown off of the handle like that.”

“Damn straight,” Elizabeth muttered. “What I want to know,” she said, in a louder voice, “is why? What had I ever done to make you doubt me?”

“Nothing. Nothing, truly. But Wickham...Wickham is a whole different story.”

“So tell me,” she demanded.

So he did.

“George Wickham and I grew up together. We were friends, of sorts - his father worked for my father, they were friends, and so it was a given that we would grow up together. But George...he wasn't like me, even then. He was sly. To quote Blackadder, he was more cunning than a fox, more cunning than the professor of cunning at Oxford University. He grew up wild, and I...didn't. I wasn't a perfect child, of course not. At times I was a holy terror, and my parents despaired of me. But at core I had good moral values. Wickham never did.”

He paused, patching his thoughts together. It was hard to talk about, even now. He had desperately wanted to please his father, who had also happened to be George's godfather, in a bizarre twist of faith, but he simply could not get along with the boy, any more than he could stomach the adut he had become.

“He wasn't stupid; that's the last word you could ever apply to George Wickham. He never let any of the adults see how it was. I was forever being blamed for his misdeeds. I couldn't tell on him, though - that was against every school boy instinct I had. But I was the only one who knew George Wickham was bad. I was glad when I was sent to Eton, because he wasn't going there. I thought that perhaps he was jealous, and that if I wasn't there he might improve. He didn't, though.

After I went off to boarding school, Wickham and I didn't really see much of each other. We weren't proper friends, the kind that you stay in touch with, and by the time we were thirteen we were damned sure that we didn't want to spend any more time together than we absolutely had to. I was relieved. Wickham had fallen in with a bad crowd; drugs, sex, rock and roll, that kind of thing, and not in a good way. I didn't think it was a sensible life choice, but it wasn't my place to say, and as long I wasn't affected I didn't see the point of causing conflict.

I was in my final year at university when I realised just how bad Wickham had become. I have a cousin, the daughter of my mother's older sister. Anne. Aunt Catherine and Uncle Walter were off on a cruise or something, and as Anne wasn't going with them, she was ferried off to live with my dad as company for Ana. And that's when she fell into Wickham's clutches.

He didn't bother with university, not then. He was doing heaven-only knows what, and with who I don't know. And when he met Anne, he found someone he could initiate into his hard living lifestyle.”

Elizabeth said nothing, watching his face avidly. He didn't want to have to say this; he still felt awful for what had happened, and he still believed that it had been his fault. He knew, though, that the only way Elizabeth was going to let him back into her life, and give him the chance to offer his children a proper family, was by baring all to her.

“You have to understand, Anne is an only child. She was sheltered growing up; Aunt Catherine is very overpowering, and I think Anne was glad of the freedom she had with us. For the first time she could do what she wanted to do without too much of an inquisition. I'm not saying that my father was negligent, but if Anne went somewhere with George than Dad assumed that she would be fine. He trusted him.

I didn't know anything about this, of course. As far as I knew Anne was having a great time helping out with Ana, and I thought it was good for her to stand on her own two feet for a bit. No one mentioned George to me, probably because by then they'd all worked out that I didn't particularly like him. Then, one Sunday, I got a phonecall.

It was Anne. She was absolutely hysterical. I couldn't get anything out of her, and in the end I promised that I would go home the next weekend and speak to her face to face. She couldn't stop crying, and I felt so helpless. It was clear that something was wrong, but I couldn't simply up and leave university; it didn't work like that.

The next weekend, I saw her. She looked awful, at least, she did to me. Dad hadn't said anything, but then he probably hadn't noticed; he'd been particularly busy with a project at that point, and had hardly seen either of the girls. Plus, Anne told me, she'd been using make-up to disguise how pale she was.

She told me what had happened. George had been paying lots of attention to her, and she was flattered. She'd never had a boyfriend, and at home she was generally dismissed as plain and boring. It was soothing to her ego to have someone so much older, and so handsome, clearly chasing after her. She let herself be caught, and soon she was caught up in George's little group. He gave her cocaine and alcohol, got her out of her head with it, and then had sex with her. It wasn't rape, she said, because he didn't force her, and I could never persuade her to press charges for it. She'd stopped going out with him, then. She didn't tell anyone because she was ashamed of what she'd done, thought they'd tell her off for experimenting with drugs. Then she found out she was pregnant.”
He took a deep breath. Speaking about it brought it all back again, reminded him of how devastated Anne had been when she'd told him, and how powerless he had felt. He'd wanted to smash Wickham into smithereens, but Anne wouldn't let him. She said that she didn't want him to go to jail, and that she needed him. But he'd failed her.

“It was the worst thing that could have happened to her,” he said, softly, almost to himself. “There she was, sixteen years old, all of her life ahead of her, and pregnant. I hadn't protected her. I should have. I'd been looking out for her since the day she was born. We were close, emotionally if not in terms of location. Aunt Catherine would have liked us to marry, I think, but it was never like that. I was a surrogate big brother for Anne, and she was another little sister.

What do you do when you're in that situation? What are your options? I promised Anne we would work things out. She said she didn't want any of the adults to know, and I had to respect that. She made me promise before she would tell me anything. So then, I had to let her know her options.

We talked about going through with the pregnancy and putting the baby up for adoption. We talked about going through with it and keeping the baby. And we talked about abortion.”

Elizabeth tensed. He wondered if anyone had spoken to her about abortion, and if so, how she had felt about it. He would have liked to have asked her, but couldn't, because if he got sidetracked now he wasn't sure he'd ever finish his story.

“Anne didn't want an abortion, not really. She was a pro-lifer. Very determined in her opinions, and unwilling to even consider what she called 'murder'. I didn't blame her. But she was, to all intents and purposes, raped. She didn't consent to what happened. She shouldn't have to live with the reminder. And she shouldn't have to go through the shame of being sixteen, unmarried and pregnant. In the end, I persuaded her to have a termination.

It was the hardest thing I've ever had to do. I had to organise it all for her; she refused to let me talk to my father or my aunts. She didn't want anyone else to know. We arranged for her to spend her half-term week with me at university, and she had the termination then. I went with her.”

He paused, remembering Anne's face, full of anguish as they had wheeled her off to the operating theatre. He remembered wondering if he had done the right thing. And he remembered afterwards, the tears, the recriminations, the way she had curled up as if she never wanted to get up again.

“She wasn't the same afterwards. Not really. She had a little counselling, but not enough. I tried to persuade her to have more, but she just wanted to forget everything. But how do you forget? She went through something no child, no woman, should ever have to experience. And it was my fault.”

“No.”

The sound of Elizabeth's voice startled him. She had said nothing since he had begun his tale. He looked at her, and noticed the frown that marred her brow, the angry set of her jaw.

“It wasn't your fault, Will. It was Wickham's. The man is slime. But I don't understand,” she added, suddenly sounding uncertain. “If you knew all that, you knew what he was like. Why did you believe that I would-” she broke off and bit her lip.

“I didn't think,” he admitted. “I saw you, and I saw him, but I didn't really see you and him, I saw him and I thought of Anne, and I wanted to kill the bastard, and I wanted to hurt you for being stupid enough to be alone with him. But none of that was rational. And then, by the time I'd calmed down, you were gone.”

“You could have phoned,” Elizabeth said.

“You wouldn't have answered,” he replied.

“Maybe. But you should have tried.” She looked at him, holding his gaze, and he wondered if she could see his soul, so intense was it. “You hurt me, Will. You didn't trust me. You treated me as though I was a slut. I gave you everything, and you threw it back in my face. I thought we had something better than that.”

“I'm sorry,” he said, and he meant it.

“It's not enough to be sorry,” she said, sadly. “Wickham might have made you angry and irrational, but I didn't deserve to have you take it out on me. You didn't trust me, and that's no basis for a relationship. For the record, there never was anything between me and Wickham. I thought he was an arrogant arse. I never liked him. He cornered me, and he forced his attentions on me, and I was trying my damndest to knee him in the goolies when you showed up and went off on one. I felt violated, and you called me a whore.”

“I'm so sorry.” Will felt awful.

“So am I.”

There was silence for a moment, a silence of lost dreams and forgotten hopes. Then William focused on the future.

“Where do we go from here?” he asked.

“Who knows?” Elizabeth shook her head. “Thank you for telling me - about Anne, I mean. Is she okay now?”

“She's grown up and moved on. Okay? I don't know. She accepts what happens, and she accepts that it wasn't her fault. She's living her life, and that's the best we can hope for.”

Elizabeth nodded. “We need to talk about this, too,” she said, gesturing to her stomach. “We need to work things out. For their sake.”

“What did you have in mind?”

“They deserve a father,” she said, and he nodded. In fact, he was thrilled - she wasn't going to write him out of her life and that of their children. She was prepared to give him a role. It was more than he had expected, although perhaps not what he had hoped for.

“You'll need to move.”

“I know. I don't know where, mind you. I'll have to find a different job, too. Supporting the three of us could be interesting.”

“I could support you,” he said.

“No.” There was no arguing with that tone. “No, you won't support me. I will support myself, somehow. I'm hardly the only woman left to parent on her own.”

“I want to support you,” he insisted. “They're my children. I was responsible for this as much as you were, and it's my right to bear some of the financial responsibility.”

“For them. Not for me.”

“We'll talk about that later,” he said, determined to change her mind. He couldn't be happy, knowing that she might work herself into an early grave to provide the best possible home for the children. And he knew enough about Elizabeth to know that that is what she would do.

“Do you want to be my birth partner?” Elizabeth asked, suddenly. Will looked at her, eyes wide. That, he had not expected.

“I thought you'd want Jane,” he admitted.

“She'll be busy with her own baby. You don't have to be if you don't want to,” she said, hurriedly. “I mean, I don't want you to feel pressured.”

“Of course I want to be your birth partner,” he exclaimed. “I want to see the babies born, I want to know everything about them. I want to count their fingers and their toes. And I want to know that you are all right.”

She didn't say anything, and he wondered if she regretted making the offer. He couldn't bring himself to ask her, though - he desperately wanted to be present at the birth. Then he looked at her again, more critically. She looked tired. She'd been ill, he knew, and it was late. Now wasn't the time to go into the wheres and wherefores of everything.

“We can talk about this another time,” he said. “You look tired. May I come back tomorrow?”

“Yes,” she said.

“Thank you.”

“That's okay.”

“I'll see you tomorrow, then.”

“Yes.”

“Well... Good night.”

“Night.”

Will was nearly out of the cubicle when her voice halted his progress.

“Will?”

He turned to look at her.

“Will you buy me a book? About their development? And what to expect?”

“Sure,” he agreed, with a small smile. “Night, Lizzy.”

“Night, Will.”

As he drove away from the hospital, Will couldn't help smiling a little. He had come further in one conversation with Elizabeth than he had in weeks of ignoring her. He supposed that wasn't surprising, but it was nice to know that she didn't hate him. It was even better to know that she was prepared to allow him the opportunity to be a part of his children's lives.

Children. His smile widened as he thought about them. Two little beings that were his to love and spoil and protect. He wondered who they would look like, whether they would have Elizabeth's eyes or his nose, whether they were boys or girls or one of each. There were so many questions he had about them that simply couldn't be answered because they didn't yet exist in his world, only in the world of Elizabeth's womb.

He was almost jealous of that fact, jealous of her and jealous of them. The three of them had a connection that he could never experience. It wasn't exactly that he envied Elizabeth her pregnancy - his job left him in no doubt as to the aches and pains of that state - but rather he envied that she was always with their children, that she could talk to them, feel them, be with them whenever she wanted to. Equally, he wished that he had the right his children had to be with Elizabeth. Before the Wickham incident he might have been entitled to it, but now… Now he would have to work hard to win back Elizabeth's trust.

He turned on the radio, and listened as Daniel Bedingfield's voice floated from the speakers.

If I don't need you then why am I crying on my bed?
If I don't need you then why does your name resound in my head?
If you're not for me then why does this distance maim my life?
If you're not for me then why do I dream of you as my wife?

I don't know why you're so far away
But I know that this much is true
We'll make it through
And I hope you are the one I share my life with
And I wish that you could be the one I die with
And I'm praying you're the one I build my home with
I hope I love you all my life

Chapter 15 - Like a Grown Up

Never, in her wildest dreams - or, more accurately, nightmares - could Elizabeth have imagined a pregnancy like hers. Every morning she woke up and made a dash for the toilet, promptly spewing her guts up in a most undignified fashion. She then proceeded to eat a little breakfast. Or at least, to try to eat breakfast; most of the time said breakfast graced her toilet bowl within half an hour.

Since her rush to hospital, Elizabeth hadn't been to work. It wasn't that she didn't want to go into the office - if nothing else, work would distract her from the myriad problems that were currently occupying her mind - but she was not so foolhardy as to believe that it was possible to function as a legal representative whilst purging her stomach. She'd been given anti-emetics, but they were about as effective as a chocolate teapot. Oh, some days they made it possible for her to venture out of the house, but not for long. After one memorable experience, involving vomit and a restaurant, she had abandoned any hope of leading a `normal' life, at least for the first trimester - her prolific reading of What to Expect When You're Expecting and similar literature all suggested that morning sickness would cease at the magic twelve week mark. Only another three weeks to go, then.

Sitting at home, watching yet another pointless episode of trashy daytime television, she was all too pleased to be interrupted by the ringing of the doorbell. Even if it was someone canvassing for double-glazing, human contact was always welcome in this, her bubble of nausea.

In fact, it was not a door-to-door salesman, nor even a charity worker. Standing outside her flat was William Darcy. She grinned to see him. He had been her most faithful visitor in the fortnight since her release from hospital, and he inevitably brought a smile to her face. Things weren't perfect between them - far from it - but they were friends. Having a friend who actually understood what she was going through - intellectually, if not literally - was a massive relief. Even Jane, who was still pregnant, and had experienced morning sickness of her own, did not fully understand the hellishness of life with HG.

“Come in!” She waved Will through to the living space, unable to keep the beam from appearing again.

“How are you doing today?” Will asked, as he sat down on her sofa. She curled up next to him, in much the same manner as she had when they were together. It wasn't the same, though. There was still a certain constraint between them that prevented her from laying her head on his shoulder, or him from patting her knee reassuringly.

“Same old, same old,” she said, with a wry laugh. “Today's a good day, so far - touch wood - only three episodes. Mind you, it's only midday, so who knows what's going to happen?”

“How are Tweedledum and Tweedledee?” Will asked, eyeing her still-flat stomach.

“Fine, I guess. I can't feel them moving, but you would know that. No complications other than the sickness, though, thank goodness. I don't know that I could cope with anything else.”

“You're being a real star,” Will said, admiration in his voice. “Do you need anything? Perhaps we could go for a walk - it's not good for you to stay cooped up in here. You don't even have a garden, and it's lovely outside!”

“It would be nice to get out,” Lizzy said, a little wistfully. “But every time I go out, I'm sick. And that's not nice for other people.”

“We don't have to go far,” Will coaxed. “It will cheer you up. I know you're fed up of staying in here.”

“I don't want to be sick in front of people,” Lizzy insisted, stubbornly. She'd lost control of so much since the two wee aliens had taken up residence in her uterus; she didn't want to lose her self-respect. She didn't want people to look at her and assume that she was a freak - or worse.

“If you feel sick we can turn around and come back. The fresh air might chase the nausea away, you never know…”

“Oh, please - spare me! If the drugs don't work - and they're hardly effective - then the not-so `fresh' air of the capital city is hardly going to settle my stomach!”

“Trust me - I'm a doctor.” Will reverted to the tried and tested cliché, and Elizabeth grimaced.

“You're not going to take no for an answer, are you?” she asked.

“No,” he replied, not at all repentant. “You've been in the doldrums all week, and it's bad for you and for the babies. We'll take things easy. If nothing else, you can look on it as practice.”

“Practice?”

“Practice. For this evening, when we are going to the Bingleys for dinner.”

“Dinner?” Elizabeth snorted. “I do hope that was a joke.”

“Elizabeth, Jane is worried about you. You don't have to eat anything if you don't want to - if you don't feel you can - but at least show your sister that you haven't turned into an agoraphobic. She needs you - the baby's due any day now.”

“I know,” Elizabeth replied, feeling a little guilty. “I wish I could help her more, but with these two -” she gestured at her stomach “- doing somersaults, it's hard.”

“So this evening, we'll go. If nothing else, it will be a change of toilet bowls for you.”

“Oh, ha-bloody-ha,” Elizabeth snorted. “You're such a comic.”

“I do try,” he said, modestly. “Have you got a jacket? It's not cold out, but it's not exactly hot, either.”

Elizabeth shrugged on a denim jacket, and followed him to the door. He gallantly offered her his arm, which she took, gratefully. She was surprised to find that she felt hugely anxious about a simple walk to the park - what was happening to her? Pregnancy had taken over her body, and now it looked like it was planning to take over her mind. She could almost resent Will for his role in her current situation, but for the fact that she had been quite happy to join him in perpetuating her pregnancy, and his continuing support in spite of her occasional tantrums and almost constant depression.

The ambled down the street companionably, and to Elizabeth's surprise, she found that Will was right. She still felt nauseous; that had become a part of her life, but she felt the spectre of despair - ever threatening in the confines of her small flat - recede with exposure to the bright September sun.

“The leaves are turning,” she observed, as they passed one of the many trees that lined the streets. “We won't be having weather like this for much longer.”

“How very British of you, to talk about the weather,” Will laughed. “You're right, though. Soon it will be cold and miserable, and you'll be glad to be tucked up under your duvet, toasty and warm.”

“By then, I suspect I'll be sick of my flat, and everything in it, including poor Haydn.”

“Poor cat.” There was a pause - it was clear that Will wanted to say something, but that he was hesitant. Then he blurted it out. “You don't have to stay in your flat, you know. I know you get lonely. You could move in to the town house, with me.”

“Um,” Elizabeth looked at him, not really sure how to react to that. “I don't really thing we've got to the living together stage, Will,” she said, gently. “There are things…” she waved a hand expansively, as she trailed off.

“You don't have to live with me,” Will assured her. “Well, obviously you would be living with me - it is my house, I know. But not with with me. Not as my partner. I mean - you can have a guestroom. Hell, you can have a guest wing. But we have a huge garden, and Kate would be able to help you. I worry about you, all alone. What happens if you don't call Jane in time next time you nearly pass out?”

“Well, I hope that I don't nearly pass out,” Elizabeth replied. She felt oddly hurt that he had said she wouldn't be living with him as his partner, even as she acknowledged that he could hardly say anything else. She was reluctant to agree to his proposition, though. Oh, she knew what he said made sense. It would be a relief for everyone if she was living with somebody who could take care of her in the worst of her illness.

“Think about it,” Will urged. “I know that you want to say no, I understand that. But for the sake of your health - and for the babies - it makes sense. You can't stay in the flat on your own, not really. Especially if you're never going to venture out of it.”

Elizabeth glared at him. He was only speaking the truth, but she resented that it was true, resented that her pregnancy was more of an illness than a joy, that it could take away her independence. Even as she glared, she knew that ultimately she would accept his offer. Contrary to popular belief, she did not enjoy worrying her nearest and dearest, and surely it would be good for the babies, to have every opportunity to bond with their father in utero, regardless of her own feelings towards said father.

They returned to her flat in silence, and Elizabeth was glad of it. There were things she needed to work out in her mind - the logistics of living with this man, a man who had so easily broken her heart, the reality of life with HG, the difference that a little help might make. It wasn't until they were through the front door, and the smell of the air freshener hit her, making her dash to the bathroom, that she realised she hadn't been sick at all during their excursion. Little things, Lizzy, she told herself. Little things.

“You know, I could be forgiven for thinking that you don't work,” Lizzy said to Will, as he helped her into his car that evening.

“It's my day off,” he said, with a shrug.

“What, and you had nothing better to do than to nursemaid me?”

“Well, I could have done the dusting, but Kate would be offended. Besides which, I thought it might be a good idea to help out the mother of my children.”

“So you came over because of Tweedledum and Tweedledee?”

“No, I came over because you need someone to get your arse out of your house. And also because I have a vested interest in the outcome of your pregnancy. But mostly because you needed someone to do something with you.”

Lizzy wasn't convinced. It seemed to her that Will had only made an effort to renew contact after learning of the children. Whilst she was glad that he was prepared to be a very visible father, she also felt like something of an incubator. When the babies arrived, would his interest in her cease? Did she want that to happen? She shook her head, trying to force the doubts from her head. He was here, and he was helping. That was enough.

Their travel was mostly silent, save for occasional observations. They arrived at the Bingley's house, and Will helped Lizzy out of the car and up the steps. The door was flung open, and a very pregnant Jane threw her arms around her less-visibly pregnant sister.

“Lizzy! I've missed you!”

“How're you doing, Jay? Looks like the Sprog is ready to drop any minute!”

“Elizabeth!” Jane complained, and Will put a hand to his mouth, presumably to hide a smirk.

Jane ushered them into the house, and settled Elizabeth onto the sofa, anxiously asking about her health as she did so. Finally, Elizabeth could take no more coddling.

“Jane! Stop it! I'm pregnant, not dying! And anyway, shouldn't you be looking after yourself? All joking aside, you look fit to burst!”

“Are you sure you're okay, though, Lizzy? I haven't seen you for weeks, and I know you've hardly been out. If it wasn't for Will I could be forgiven for thinking that you were collapsed out on your floor again!”

“I've phoned!” Elizabeth complained.

“I know. But it's not the same as seeing you. You look…” Jane hesitated.

“I look crappy, I know.” Elizabeth laughed. “It's the puking that does it.”

“I didn't say that.”

“You just thought it. It's okay, I have a mirror. With the best will in the world, no one could say that I look my best right now.”

Jane clucked, but said no more, turning instead to Will.

“It's good to see you, too, Will. How's Ana?”

“She's doing okay - went back to school last week. She was looking getting back into the swing of things.”
“She'll miss you, though,” Jane said, with a smile.

“Where's Charles?” Elizabeth asked, realising that her brother-in-law had yet to make an appearance.

“He's just getting a quick shower,” Jane explained. “He was late home from work.”

“That's a bit inconsiderate, isn't it?” Elizabeth asked. “The baby's due any day now!”

“That's life, I'm afraid,” Will told her. “It's better that Charles works as much as possible now and can take all of his paternity leave when the baby arrives. Jane will need him more then.”

“Hrmph,” was all that Lizzy said in response.

“Will's right,” Jane agreed. “And Charles would only annoy me if he was at home. He keeps poking the baby. I'm surprised my stomach isn't black and blue!”

They all laughed, but secretly Lizzy couldn't help but be a little envious of Jane, who was glowing, if huge. Moreover, she felt awful about being envious - Jane deserved her happiness. But it was hard not to feel a little down comparing her sister's fertile beauty to her own wan complexion and dull eyes.

There was a thudding on the stairs, and then Charles appeared, his hair still damp from his shower.

“I'm here!” he announced. “What did I miss?”

“Hello to you, too,” Lizzy laughed. “How are you doing?”

“Better than you are, by the looks of things.”

“Charles!” Jane chastised her husband, but Elizabeth only laughed.

“He's right, Jane,” she said. It was, oddly, a relief to have someone comment so definitively on her less than perfect health. It made her feel like less of a leper, somehow. She knew that Jane was trying to be helpful by not making her feel self-conscious, but somehow that only made her moreso. Charles, with his matter-of-fact statement, rendered any pretence unnecessary. “If you must know,” she added, “I feel like shit. But all in a good cause.”

“Pfft. You're not even showing,” Charles said, with a wink. “Now Jane… Ah, my lovely wife. Ripe with child, even as I speak.”

Jane swatted her husband playfully, but took no offence. The affection between husband and wife was tangible, and Elizabeth couldn't help but smile at them. They were cute together, twee as it sounded, and in spite of the problems in her own life, she was happy for them.

“Is there anything you fancy for dinner, Lizzy?” Jane asked, and Elizabeth felt her stomach churn in response.

“A cocktail of anti-nausea drugs would be grand,” she said, with a wry grin. “Failing that, I'll try whatever the rest of you are having. You never know…”

“Poor Lizzy,” Jane said, sympathetically.

“And you're not even allowed a glass of wine to drown your sorrows,” Charles said, with a mournful look belied by the cheeky glint in his eyes.

The Bingleys disappeared in the direction of the kitchen, leaving Will and Elizabeth to their own devices. Normally Elizabeth would have followed them, but her current sensitivity around food suggested that it might not be such a good idea to sit in the kitchen whilst dinner was cooked; she didn't want to ruin the tiled floor.

“It's not so bad, is it?” Will asked.

“Well, there's Jane, all beautifully glowing, and then there's me. Who is not.”

“Jane had her share of sickness, Lizzy,” Will chided, gently. “And you know, in some ways you're lucky.”

“Lucky?!”

“You have an early diagnosis. That can be hugely helpful in treatment. And symptoms generally disappear by week twenty-one.”

“Week twenty-one?! I was counting down to week twelve!”

“Well, it might go by then. But…it might not.”

“Well, whoop-de-do. Thank you so much for that thrilling information.”

“You didn't do any research at all, did you?”

“Well, given that you are a doctor, I thought I could rely on you for information. What with being busy puking every five minutes I haven't had the time - or the inclination - to consult Google!”

“I'm sorry. If you'd asked…” Will hesitated.

“To be honest, I don't really want to know,” Lizzy admitted. “I like the hope that tomorrow I will wake up and the metallic taste will be gone, my stomach will be steady, and all this will have been a bad dream. Crazy, I know, but…it's all I've got right now.”

Will nodded, his brown eyes sympathetic. There wasn't really anything he could say to make things better on the sickness front, and Elizabeth was glad that he recognised that fact. Still, she wasn't entirely happy with being an object of pity. So she sought for a change of topic. Glancing around the room for inspiration, she noticed a DVD sitting on the entertainment unit.

“Jane's been in the Disney,” she said, grinning and showing the cover to Will. “Must be getting some practice for when the baby arrives.”

“I don't think the baby will be that interested in Hercules for a while yet,” Will pointed out.

“Our babies will be,” Elizabeth told him, slipping the disc into the player. “They're going to be precocious. I can just tell.”

Will just smiled and shook his head. Unconsciously, Elizabeth sat on the settee next to him, tucking her legs up underneath her as the film began, leaning against his shoulder to get more comfortable.

It was a lovely dinner, Lizzy thought. It was a shame that she couldn't eat any of it. The smell alone was making her nauseous, but she had control over things. Jane, bless her, had prepared chicken broth for her, and it seemed to be staying down, at least for now.

In fact, it was nice to be out for dinner. For once things weren't focused on her; Jane was days away from her due date, and the main topic of conversation was the Bingley baby. It was exciting; Lizzy couldn't wait to meet her niece or nephew. It was much easier to be excited about Jane's baby than it was to look forward to her own children's birth; the rigours of HG were such that any thoughts of her children were tinged with frustration. It wasn't that she didn't love the babies - she did - but carrying them was not the easy task that pregnancy propaganda would have it be.

“We've finished the nursery,” Jane was saying. “Charles put up the pictures at the weekend. You'll have to have a look after dinner, Lizzy.”

“Are you desperate for the baby to put in it?” Lizzy asked. “I can't believe you're going for a home birth!”

“Well, I want you to be there, and I know how much you hate hospitals!”

“Jane, you should not have made a decision based on me! It's all about what's right for you!”

“This is right for me! I don't want to give birth with my feet in stirrups. I want it to be relaxing and beautiful and-” she paused and pulled a face. “-I think my waters just broke.”

All three of Jane's dining companions looked at her in disbelief. Lizzy wasn't actually sure why they were so surprised; her sister looked fit to burst. Maybe it was the fact that Jane hadn't said anything about contractions.

“Are you sure?” Charles asked, rather stupidly.

“Well, I'm sitting in a puddle,” Jane said.

“Will?” Charles looked at his friend. Lizzy had to admit that there were some perks to having your obstetrician to dinner.

Will had already moved around to Jane, and was helping her out of her chair.

“It looks to me like Baby Bingley will be making an appearance in the near future,” Will smiled. “You might want to help your wife upstairs, Charles.”

“I'll clear up, shall I?” Elizabeth asked.

“I'll be down shortly,” Will promised. “I expect it will be a while yet, and you shouldn't do too much.”

“Come up, soon, though, Lizzy,” Jane asked, a hint of a plea in her voice. “I want you with me.”

“I wouldn't miss it for the world,” Lizzy promised. She wondered what effect bodily fluids would have on her sickness, and then shrugged. This was no time to worry about HG - her niece or nephew was going to be born!

Whilst the others made their way upstairs, she cleared the table. By dint of not breathing whilst holding plates, she managed to keep the nausea to a manageable level. By the time Will returned she had managed to put all of the dishes in the dishwasher, and was contemplating mopping up the amniotic fluid that was currently staining Jane's beech wood floor.

“Here, I'll do that,” Will said, taking the mop from her. “You go up and see Jane.”

“Thanks,” she said, with a grateful smile.

She found her sister pacing around her bedroom, dressed in a clean nightie. Every now and then she would stop and lean against the wall.

“How are you doing, Jay?” she asked, rubbing her sister on the back.

“All right,” Jane said, stoically. “I thought they were just Braxton Hicks,” she added. “And why do they hurt so much more now that I know this is the real thing?” she added, with a forced laugh.

“Psychological?” Lizzy suggested. “What did Will say?”

“Three centimetres dilated,” Jane said. “Doesn't mean much, does it?”

“Well, I expect it does to him,” Lizzy pointed out.

“It means the baby is coming,” Jane agreed.

“Where's Charles?” Lizzy asked.

“Running me a bath,” Jane admitted. “Will said I could have one if I wanted. It's unlikely that things will progress too quickly, and he said that even if the baby is born in the bath, it will be fine.”

“Well, water births are popular,” Lizzy agreed. “Do you want anything?”

“A stiff vodka would be nice,” Jane admitted, with a grin. “Failing that, I'm good.”

Charles appeared at that moment, announcing that the bath was ready. Lizzy nodded, and Jane disappeared with her husband.

“I'll wait here,” she promised. If Jane wanted her around that was fine, but this was a time for her and Charles and Elizabeth had no intention of getting in the way.

The hours passed, and Elizabeth paced - when she wasn't rubbing Jane's back or offering words of support. The wait seemed interminable; she knew that labour was a drawn out occurrence, but this…this was excruciating.

Every extra centimetre of dilation was a reason to celebrate - it meant they were one step closer to having an actual baby. Watching her sister breathe through the pain, Lizzy felt helpless. She could rub, she could talk, she could offer tea and water and biscuits, but ultimately, nothing that she could do would take away from Jane's travail. The only person who could have the baby was Jane.

Through it all, Will remained, offering advice and support, calm and unflappable in spite of the tension around him.

Jane gave birth to a little girl in the early hours of the morning. By that time everyone was exhausted. Elizabeth dreaded to imagine how Jane felt, and determinedly did not think about her own labour and delivery. According to Will it had been easy, but watching her sister strain and moan, Elizabeth didn't see anything easy about it.

“It's a girl,” Will announced, placing the baby directly on to Jane's chest before cutting the umbilical cord. “Congratulations!”

“A girl,” Jane breathed, touching her little cheek. Charles bent over her and the two shared a smile of such tenderness that Elizabeth could have wept for joy.

“Hello, baby,” Charles said, stroking his daughter's head. “Pleased to meet you.”

Jane laughed. “'Baby' has a name now, darling,” she told her husband. “Megan Elizabeth,” she explained to Will and Lizzy.

“She's beautiful,” Lizzy said, unbelievably touched by her sister's gesture. “Are you sure?”

“Of course.” Jane knew exactly what she meant. “I'm naming her after my best friend. What better legacy could she have than that?”

Will finished whatever he was doing to Jane's nether regions - Lizzy preferred not to ask - and took over.

“Do you think you can clean her up?” he asked Charles. Charles looked dazed, but nodded.

“You help him, Lizzy,” Jane instructed. “Charles has never bathed a baby in his life!”

“He'll learn,” Elizabeth smiled, following her brother-in-law into the en-suite.

“She's so beautiful,” Charles gushed, as Lizzy ran warm water into the baby bath. “Just like Jane.”

“I think she's the spit of you, actually,” Lizzy said. “But definitely beautiful.”

“Come on Meggie-girl,” Charles said, placing the baby gingerly in the water. “Time to get nice and clean.”

Megan wailed lustily at the indignity of it all, scrunching her face up in anger. Elizabeth smiled as she gently sponged the birth fluids off of the little body, counting ten tiny fingers and ten tiny toes. When the time came to wrap the baby in a towel and dry her off, Charles left Elizabeth holding her to check on his wife.

Elizabeth gazed into wide blue eyes and felt her heart swell.

“Hello,” she said, softly, giving Megan her finger. The baby blinked, and clutched the digit eagerly. It was a reflex action, Elizabeth knew, but as the tiny fist closed, she realised that she was smitten.

Reluctantly she gave up her burden when Charles returned to bear the baby off to meet her mother properly. She watched as he settled on the bed next to his wife and gave her their daughter to nurse. She smiled, and then exited the bathroom via the door to the hall.

She met Will as he was leaving Jane's room.

“That was the most beautiful thing I have ever witnessed,” she admitted.

“I know,” he agreed, placing an arm around he waist and propelling her towards the spare room. “There's nothing quite like witnessing a birth.”

Elizabeth nodded, covering a yawn with her hand.

“You need to get some sleep,” Will told her, guiding her to the bed. “As do we all. I expect Charles and Jane will be up for a bit, but they know what to do, and if they need help they can always come and find me.”

She nodded again, too tired to say much of anything. On impulse, she shyly rose up on her toes and placed a kiss on his cheek.

“Thank you,” she said.

“You're welcome,” he smiled, and walked towards the door. She stopped him.

“Will,” she said, and he turned to look at her. “What you said earlier - about moving in? Can we talk about it? Tomorrow?”

He nodded and left her to her thoughts.

She was going to agree to live with him, she had decided. Watching Jane this evening, she had known that she couldn't go through this alone. She had lost too much weight to do much of anything any more, and Will had been right; she needed other people around to keep her from falling into a depression.

She had resisted that realisation, of course. Because living with Will wouldn't be easy. Admitting she needed help wouldn't be easy. But then, having children wouldn't be easy either. The hardest thing of all, though, was admitting to herself that she still had feelings for him. Living with him would keep those feelings raw, and she worried that her instinct for self-preservation would be compromised. But seeing him with her sister, the gentle way he had encouraged Jane through the worst of the pains, the joy on his face when he had delivered the baby, she had known. Regardless of what it cost her, this man deserved to be involved in his children's development from the very beginning. He deserved the chance to talk to them whilst they were still inside her. Whatever his failings as a partner, he would be the best of fathers. For the sake of her children, she would move in with him.

As she drifted off to sleep, a song ran through her head.

Who d'you think you're kidding
He's the earth and heaven to you
Try to keep it hidden
Honey, he can see right through you
Girl you can't conceal it
We know how you feel and
Who you're thinking of

Oh no, not me,
I won't say it, no no
You swoon, you sigh
Can't deny it uh-oh
It's too cliché, I won't say
I'm in love

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