Babies And Bachelors

By A. Leah Marie

Jump to new as of December 2, 2001
Jump to new as of December 6, 2001

Chapter 1

Posted on Thursday, 1 November 2001

Charles Bingley sat glumly in his car, looking at the great house of Pemberley with what could only be described as resigned trepidation. It wasn't that he didn't want to see William Darcy and his lovely wife, Elizabeth. Nor was he dreading seeing Georgiana and Jeremy Blake or Richard and Jane Fitzwilliam. They were old friends and that's what people did during the holidays; spend them with loved ones.

He had been strong-armed into making his appearance three days early by Elizabeth, who insisted that the Darcys and their extended family were going to partake of an old-fashioned Christmas holiday with all the trimmings. To Charles it meant he would be participating in frilly traditions while watching people in love make memories together.

Pursing his lips, Charles admitted to himself that jealousy was his main excuse for remaining in his car. He stared at the front door as if it were an enemy to be beaten rather than just a slab of English oak that was centuries old. He really didn't want to go into the house, but he'd promised Elizabeth and that was enough.

With an angry grunt, Charles slammed the car into park. He climbed the ancient stone steps of the grandest estate in Derbyshire not caring a bit about the beauty or the history of the place like he'd done many times in the past. For a change, Charles Bingley was in a very bad mood.

The heavy wooden door was open before he even knocked on it, which darkened his mood a little more. The Darcy's butler, Bobbitt, seemed to be a throwback to the days of yore. He served loyally and to the utmost of his ability. He was severe looking with a long, narrow face and cheekbones like straight razors. He reminded Charles of an angry Jeeves because he never gave the impression that he was fond of anybody, unlike Mrs. Reynolds, who had battled heartily with Richard and mothered Georgiana.

In return, Charles was not fond of Bobbitt.

"Good evening, sir," the butler said dutifully. "Mr. and Mrs. Darcy are in the Red Drawing Room."

"Thank you. I know where it is," Charles muttered. The sooner Bobbitt was gone, the better. He paused as the butler took his leave. Once again, despite his foul mood, Charles took a moment to admire the splendor that was Pemberley.

Elizabeth had taken what might have ended up as yet another museum-like manor and turned it into a home. For its girth, Pemberley was warm and almost cozy. She had indeed done amazing things to the place since she'd become its mistress, but it was mostly due to her actions, not the color schemes she had chosen.

There was a huge Christmas tree, nearly fifteen feet, he noted, standing in the center of the foyer. It twinkled with white lights and shimmered with glitter-dusted creamy glass ornaments. The bright packages beneath it were for the underprivileged children in the village, whom the Darcys invited over on Christmas Day for breakfast.

Charles set off for a door on the left side and then stared down a short hallway he made a right turn down another corridor. Darcy ancestors watched him pass by, uninterested in his angry state of mind. A few moments later, he reached the Red Drawing Room. He put a hand on the brass door latch and, taking a deep breath, he turned it. He wanted to enter quietly so as not to draw to much attention to himself.

"Charles!" William bellowed as if he'd been lying in wait.

Blast! Charles thought. He threw a look around the room, and indeed, all the happy couples were present and accounted for.

The Blakes were chatting with Elizabeth at the bar while William, now standing to greet his friend, had been engaged with the Fitzwilliams near another enormous tree.

This one was decorated with garlands of dried berries and popcorn to complement the room's red silk walls. Red and green lights blinked in a vicious war of superiority. The mounds of presents beneath this tree were for family.

William pulled Charles into a happy hug and then dragged him over to the sitting area. Jane, who was beautiful even when she was the size of a small car, smiled up at him. She practically glowed as she leaned against her husband. Richard proudly patted her swollen belly and Charles groaned inwardly.

"You're looking lovely as usual," Charles told her and meant it despite his irritation. "This old rat taking proper care of you?"

Her smile widened and she rubbed her belly absently. "Fitzwilliam? Are you kidding? I'm lucky if I get bread crust and water at dinner and, I assure you, the scrap of cloth he calls a blanket barely covers my feet."

Charles laughed, feeling some of the bitterness fall away. Jane could always do that to him. "I told you the day you married him that you chose the wrong man, but I've moved on. Somebody had to fill those legendary shoes vacated by my Casanova cohort."

He neatly avoided the kick that Richard tried to deliver to his shin.

"You'd have never been happy with her, Chuck. Her feet are always cold and she adores oatmeal."

"You bloody savage!" Charles exclaimed with feigned horror.

"Are you abusing my pregnant sister?" Elizabeth asked. She passed out the drinks she was carrying then approached Charles to land a kiss on his cheek.

"It's a dirty job," was Charles' only reply as he shrugged his shoulders. He returned Elizabeth's kiss then bussed Georgiana. "Is this our entire party?"

"No, my other sisters should be here before dinner," Elizabeth informed him, letting her husband settle into his chair before she claimed his lap as her own seat. "You could have brought Caroline and Louisa."

Charles' lip curved into a half-smile and the bad mood slipped into only a nagging annoyance in the back of his head. He knew that Elizabeth was only being gracious. There was no love lost between his sisters and the lovely Mrs. Bennet-Darcy. He didn't blame Elizabeth in the least. In fact he quite understood that it was bad form to insult a bride on her wedding day in front of four hundred guests.

"Louisa and Caroline have run off to New York to spend money that they don't have. I swear, I think they should change their names to Eddie and Patsy or, at the very least, get royalties from that show."

Georgiana and Jane giggled. William just shook his head.

"How have you been, Chuck? I haven't seen you in ages." Richard asked.

Charles was a barrister for an international conglomerate that often forced him to be away from London for months at a time. His last big case had earned him enough money to buy a house outside of London.

It was an old manor house called Netherfield Park, but it might as well have been advertised as a handyman's special.

"Well, you know about Netherfield," Charles began. "It's an absolute mess. Looks like I'll be staying in my flat a bit longer than I wanted."

"You wouldn't know what to do outside the City!" Richard exclaimed. "Not for any length of time anyway."

Charles just shrugged.

"Would you mind terribly if I came and took a look about, Charles? From what I hear it isn't too far from Longbourn," Elizabeth asked, leaning back into William's chest.

"Would I mind? Lord, no! I was prepared to beg you to come and diagnose the malady," he chuckled. "Or, at least, estimate how deep my pockets are and the quickest way to drain them."

She rolled her eyes and shook her head. She had like Charles from the moment that she's met him, back when she'd redecorated his flat in Kensington. He was her favorite of all her husband's friends. She always enjoyed seeing him, but noticed lately that he'd been around less and less.

Charles never just popped by for a visit anymore. He had to be prompted and then only showed up after several impatient invitations. Elizabeth had begged William to pursue the matter, but he didn't see a cause for alarm. He summed it up by saying that Charles was a very busy man who worked odd hours.

Elizabeth didn't accept that excuse. Mostly because every time she called his flat, Charles answered. In fact, when she had called to confirm Christmas he had pleasantly told her that he'd taken a month off then panicked when she insisted that he come to Pemberley early.

She continued to watch him as he became engrossed in the inevitable heated football talks with the Blakes and the Fitzwilliams. She was so intent on Charles that she barely heard William.

"What?" She asked, after realizing that he was speaking to her.

"You keep staring at Chuck like that and I may be forced to wonder what's going on," William growled into her ear so that nobody else could hear.

"Hey, if he's willing to share me, you shouldn't complain," she replied smugly. She always thought William's jealousy, while a complete turn-on, was amusing.

"Not funny, Lizzy," he pouted.

Elizabeth broke her gaze from Charles to nuzzle William's neck. "I'm worried about him is all. He seems so distant lately. When was the last time that he called you? We never see him anymore. I wonder if he's in some sort of trouble."

William fought laughing out loud at the thought when he noticed the genuine concern in Elizabeth's brown eyes. Perhaps there was something to her worries.

"Would you like me to talk to him?"

"Would you? Please?" She asked, a hint of hope in her voice.

He kissed her forehead and nodded. Then, without warning, he tightened his arms around her waist and kissed her plump, pink mouth hard.

"You shouldn't do that in public!" She cried breathlessly. She knew, though, that the football discussion diverted the group's attention sufficiently that she could've necked all she wanted with her husband and nobody would be the wiser.

"We're amongst friends. Besides, you love it."

She smiled wickedly. "That is beside the point."

"Don't you two ever ease up?"

The party looked toward the door where Kate and Lydia were entering the room. The two girls couldn't have looked more different.

Kate, the artistic genius, had dyed her hair a startling platinum blonde and was wearing contact lenses the color of tanzanite. Her clothes grabbed no less attention for the tight black leather pants were like a second skin. She wore a blue man's dress shirt that hung open to reveal a camouflage tank top that read "fight girl" in handwritten silver letters.

When Lydia, simply dressed in a black pantsuit with her chestnut hair clipped back from her face, saw the crowd take in Kate's latest look, she elbowed her sister in the ribs.

"I told you that is wasn't shocking enough. See, Jane isn't even in labor," she added.

"I'm so glad that you two are here!" Elizabeth screamed, jumping up from William's lap so that she could scoop Lydia into her arms. Since her youngest sister had gone off to Oxford two years before, Elizabeth had suffered acutely from empty-nest syndrome. She kissed Lydia's smooth, white cheek and then attacked Kate.

"Did we beat Mary?" Kate asked nervously, obviously dreading the lecture that was guaranteed.

"You're safe for the moment. I actually expect her anytime now."

The three sisters then went to hover around Jane. Georgiana joined in and the football conversation was effectively dead in the water. Babies invaded the dialog with Jane talking about cravings and Georgiana talking of late-night feedings.

"Where is Gigi?" Kate asked of Georgia Jane Blake.

"She's coming with my parents tomorrow," Jeremy said.

"And you seem nervous just sitting there," Lydia told Richard.

"I'm not nervous," he protested, a look of hurt clouding his fair features. "I'm cautiously prepared."

Jane chuckled. "He's nervous. He sleeps as far away as possible because he's afraid he'll touch me and I'll pop."

"Not so!" He cried. "You just take up so much more room, Bennet!"

"Oh, good lord, Richard! You may not be married by the time the baby's born if you keep making remarks like that!" William commented.

The distaste on Richard's face plainly suggested that he did not enjoy the flavor of his own foot. He looked piteously at Jane and shrugged his shoulders.

"I forgive you. Anyway, who would I get foot massages from if I divorced you?"

Richard pecked Jane's cheek casually and Charles, quite unexpectedly, felt a pang of jealousy. To be able to have a cheek to kiss in such an easy way suddenly seemed quite heartbreaking. All the dark feelings came rushing back and he discreetly slipped away to find solace at a window.

Absently, he noticed that the conversation turned away from babies and toward fashion as Kate relayed the latest scandal from the show she was working on. Everybody seemed enthralled by the tale.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

Charles started, surprised to find Lydia standing next to him, holding up a glass of wine. She sipped her own as he accepted the glass with a statement of gratitude.

"My thoughts aren't worth a penny right now."

"Oh, come, Charles, it can't be as bad as all that." Lydia looked out the window too. She smiled gently. "Unless you're watching for Mary."

That brought for a chuckle.

"In which case," Lydia continued, "your life is wholly pathetic and you enjoy nothing."

"I am continually amazed that the five of you share the same parents."

"Oh? Haven't you heard?"

He shook his head.

"Mum and Dad found Mary in a cereal box. At least, that's what Jane told her when she was three. She also said that Mum was never very happy with the prize that she got."

"That's terrible!"

"Mary's never forgiven Jane," Lydia said gravely. "That's why she's always so cross."

"Now you're just teasing," Charles laughed.

"Of course! Now, are you going to tell me why you look like somebody just kicked your puppy or are we going to have to resort to international bylaws on corporate structure?"

Charles shook his head and rolled his eyes.

"All right, corporate law it is." Lydia cleared her throat and dove in.

She was studying law with the hopes of one day going into politics. It never failed to amaze Charles how brilliant and driven she really was. She had been just seventeen when he'd met her, but even then her ambition was evident.

They were so engrossed in their conversation by the time Mary arrived that they didn't even notice that dinner had been announced. Indeed, they barely acknowledged William when he interrupted them to get them to the dining room. Absently, they followed him and sat next to each other at the table.

Lydia, as if noticing that the scenery had changed, suddenly looked shocked.

"Oh, lord, Mary! I didn't even see you arrive!"

"I noticed," Mary grumbled, throwing a glance toward Charles, who had always been a favorite of hers though it never seemed to fail that Lydia always had him engaged.

"Mary, don't be so sour. I rarely see you the way it is. Try not to spoil the experience," Lydia retorted.

"Fine," she replied grudgingly.

Kate rolled her eyes.

Elizabeth, without missing a beat, raised her glass and exclaimed: "To the holidays and to family."

Everybody but Mary laughed.

Chapter 2

Posted on Wednesday, 28 November 2001

Dinner ended without any further incident. Coffee was served, and, despite the early hour, Georgiana insisted that, while she was not ill, she was exhausted and she needed sleep. Jeremy accompanied his wife to their suite. Elizabeth suspected that the couple wanted to take advantage of the fact that they had no Gigi Blake to interrupt them.

Mary disappeared again, most likely back to the library, to avoid another scene like the one at dinner. People would be surprised that Mary Bennet was only uncomfortable around her family. At school, Mary had found herself. She wasn't the plain, philosophical girl that was overshadowed by the serene Jane or the fiery Elizabeth.

However, when faced with the prospect of being in the same room with the four other personalities that she'd grown up with, Mary discovered that it was just easier to go to the library.

The Darcys, Richard, and Kate went to the garage to inspect Elizabeth's latest acquisition, a rare 1932 Dusenberg. Car collecting had become a passionate hobby since their marriage, and Richard was completely fascinated with it.

Elizabeth still had Addie, of course, and William still beamed with pride when people looked twice at Archie's gunmetal grey body, but since they had become serious about collecting they had acquired two more Jaguars, a Lotus, a Bentley, and three Mercedes-Benzs, which were all rare models. They didn't count William's Hummer, because Elizabeth hated the behemoth.

The rest of the party retired to the game room where Charles and Lydia engaged in a game of chess. Jane settled into a chair with a stuffed cloth tote bag and pulled out a mound of pastel colored yarn that would eventually be a blanket for her baby.

Charles scowled at the chessboard as he concentrated on his next move. He frowned for a moment; saw another opportunity that was risky but potentially better, and took the chance.

"You're such a rebel, Charles," Lydia remarked, smirking. She leaned forward and rested her cheek against her closed fist. Her mouth twisted as she considered what she would do next.

A few moments later she grinned widely as she made an excellent move.

"Lucky break, Miss Bennet," Charles muttered.

"Nope, just smarter than you, Mr. Bingley."

He snorted incredulously then lost a pawn. His eyes narrowed. "Why did I agree to play this game with you?"

"Because a game of checkers would have ended ten minutes ago? With me winning obviously."

Charles rolled his eyes.

"Oh, goodness, you two sound like children!" Jane exclaimed, looking up from her knitting. She watched them for a few minutes. "No, you sound worse than children!"

"Do you think she'll win mother of the year with that attitude?" Lydia asked.

"Nope," Charles replied, capturing a bishop.

Jane giggled. She was used to being teased by the surrogate family that she had found herself in. For some reason they all saw her as goodness personified, though she never quite knew why. Her own sisters had also adopted the attitude that Jane was as near to perfect as one could get, even though they knew better.

"Well, I'll just have to make a note to not thank either of you when I do win," she replied haughtily.

"Only because you slept with the judges," Lydia retorted cheekily.

Charles laughed outright at Lydia's remark and threw a glance at Jane. Imagining perfect Jane Fitzwilliam doing such a thing was hard enough, but in her present state it only added to the comedy of the situation.

Jane, suddenly bored with what seemed to be an endless project, put it aside and stood. Blood rushed to her head and stars floated in front of her face. Jane felt air escape from her lungs in a light, breathy sigh and she was coming up fast on the shiny wooden floor beneath her feet.

Charles and Lydia were out of their seats as she hit the ground. Charles lifted her shoulders and cradled her in his arms then instructed Lydia to retrieve water. Quickly, the younger sister did as she was told.

Jane's eyes fluttered open as the door to the game room swung open and in walked her husband and his party. The laughter immediately ceased when they all saw Charles and Jane on the floor and Lydia returning with a glass from the bar.

"Bennet!" Richard yelped, skidding across the floor. He slid into place beside her, taking over for Charles. He reached for the glass and held it to his wife's lips. She sipped slowly.

"What happened? Are you all right? Is the baby okay?" Richard demanded.

"I think I just stood too quickly," Jane replied. Indeed, she was getting her bearings back and felt fine enough to stand, if her husband allowed it.

"I think we should take you to the doctor, just to make sure. Elizabeth doesn't have the good sense to put carpet down on these hard floors for instances just like this!" Richard muttered, trying hard to make light of the situation, even though he was scared out of his wits. He knew Jane was tougher than she looked, but that didn't make him feel any better.

"We'll take you into the village," Elizabeth said, taking William's hand in her own. "Dr. Farmer will still be in his office at this point."

"I'm fine," Jane insisted. She moved into a sitting position slowly and looked at Lydia and Charles pleadingly. She didn't want to go to the doctor.

"Better go get checked out anyway," said Charles, trying to be reassuring.

William approached Jane and Richard on the floor and, with Kate and Elizabeth's help, managed to get Jane standing without further distress. They slowly made their way to the door and left, Richard taking over for Kate when they reached the hall.

Lydia stared down at Charles, who was still sitting on the floor, the water glass that Richard had given back to him in his hand. He looked as if he'd just gone through a battle.

"You okay?" She asked. She held out her hand to help him up.

He gazed up at her then took the proffered hand. "I was really scared for her, Lyddy."

"I can see that. She'll be okay. Us Bennet girls are made of strong stuff."

Charles smirked. "Good thing, I suppose, considering all you've all been through. You Bennet girls are remarkable."

"We know," she said, smiling. She pulled him up a bit too hard and they bumped into one another. She looked up at him. "Oh, dear! I'm sorry, Charles. I don't suppose I know my own strength."

He stared down at her, suddenly thinking that Lydia Bennet had gone from a charming schoolgirl to a stunning woman without him even noticing.

Her hair was clipped back, but he suddenly found himself wondering what it would feel like flowing through his fingers like water under a night sky. Her eyes were a clear blue and you could see the wit and intelligence dance there in a happy combination. He had never seen such a perfect heart-shaped face before.

"When did you become so grown-up?" He whispered, not realizing that he was clutching her hand.

Lydia gulped. She didn't have a witty retort for his question, nor could she think of one with his warm breath caressing her cheek. He stared at her so intently that he could have borne holes into her with his eyes. Charles had always treated her like a kid sister, or, at least, a sister he liked as opposed to the two he already possessed. Why was he suddenly gazing at her as if he'd never seen her before?

She found herself swimming in his eyes and not wanting to leave. Somehow, Lydia had become trapped in whatever had caught Charles.

"My God, you're beautiful," he whispered as if it were a revelation. His hand found her cheek and he stroked it.

"Charles," she said weakly. Her eyes broke from his and slid down, inadvertently taking the broad expanse of chest that filled her vision.

With the fingers that were paused on her cheek, Charles easily slid them beneath her chin and lifted her face.

"Lydia!"

For a moment the world froze as Charles' lips paused over Lydia's. As her name pierced the air again, Lydia snapped to and pulled away from Charles Bingley, taking her lips, her eyes, and her hand away from him. Charles shuddered inwardly, trying to squelch the disappointment while also attempting to understand what had happened.

"In here, Mary!" Lydia called back as she retreated to the bar to fix herself the strongest drink she could muster.

Mary stepped into the room. "Where is everybody? I was trying to find Lizzy to ask her a question about that breakfast she has for the children, but I can't find her."

Lydia, her cheeks pink, explained what had happened to Jane and where everybody had gone. As her story drew to a close, she noticed that Charles had quietly slipped out of the room to disappear into the depths of the huge old house. She wasn't sure whether to be happy or sad about that. In fact, she wasn't even sure what had just happened. All she knew was that a part of her wanted it to happen again.

Chapter 3, Part 1

Posted on Wednesday, 5 December 2001

Charles fled to the bedchamber that he always slept in when he was a guest at Pemberley. It was the obvious choice of location in which he could disappear. It was a comfortable suite, smaller than some of the others than Pemberley housed, but a fine set of rooms regardless.

Elizabeth had seen to it that it was decorated in shades of crčme and burgundy that gave it a stately yet homey feel. The tiny sitting room had a couch and a chair that had bold damask coverings and a walnut armoire that housed an entertainment area. The bed had a deep wine-colored chenille coverlet that hung perfectly over the sides of the walnut sleigh bed. Like most of the rooms in Pemberley, the bathroom was separate and down the hall. Which meant that he would have to leave his room at some point and chance facing Lydia.

He sank into the plump light caramel-colored and sighed heavily. What in the world had just happened? He had almost kissed little Lydia Bennet! If Mary hadn't come along when she did, what would have happened?

"But she didn't look so little," Charles muttered, recalling the clarity of her blue eyes and glow of her peaches and crčme skin. Indeed, he would be a fool to think that Lydia was still a child. "Why did I do that?"

He rationalized it the best way he could, using his mood from earlier this evening. He had been lonely and hungry for somebody to put his arms around. Lydia had just been a convenient distraction, a way to forget that people in love surrounded him.

There was no denying that she had become a beautiful young woman. It could also be put down to that fact, that he's just noticed her.

Charles told himself this, but didn't really believe it. He had never been a cold man, or a heartless man. If Lydia had suddenly moved him, it was just a simple truth.

There was a knock on his door. Charles closed his eyes. It could only be one person.

With a sigh, he stood up and went to answer it.

Lydia's face reddened as soon as the door opened. In spite of himself, Charles was charmed.

"Can we talk?" Lydia asked softly.

"Sure. Come in."

She did, her small body floating passed him, obviously trying to avoid his touch as she did so.

"Please, have a seat," Charles told her. "Would you like to ring Bobbitt for some tea?"

Lydia shook her head sadly. He was being so formal now where he'd never been formal in her presence before. She didn't want things to change because of one silly little moment. She'd adored Charles since the moment she'd met him.

Neither the forlorn look nor the sad shake went without notice. Charles sighed heavily then followed Lydia to take a place beside her on the couch.

"Well, at least you didn't sit in the chair," she remarked, some of the mischievous light returning to her eyes.

"What? And miss a second chance to try to snog you?" They both looked at each other. Charles had not meant to say that, not aloud anyway.

"Lydia, I'm sorry. I don't know where that came from."

"It's just natural. That's what we do, Charles. We flirt." Lydia's explanation was genteel enough though she looked away from him. She stared at the ivory silk covered windows and wondered why she had come here. He had left for a reason and she should have respected that. She started to stand and looked down in shock as Charles' fingers encircled her wrist.

"Don't go," he pleaded. "Lyddy, something happened downstairs whether we choose to acknowledge it or not. Regardless of that, it changes things. It's up to us to decide if those changes are good or bad."

Lydia considered his statement for a moment. She was quite content with the way things were and she wanted them to stay that way. Suddenly, she wanted to forget what he'd smelled like when he'd leaned in to kiss her; the way his fingers danced over her skin. If she could forget that it happened then she and Charles Bingley could remain the best of friends without incident.

She settled back into the couch and threw a casual glance down at Charles' fingers, which still surrounded her wrist. With a guilty look, he released his hold on her and let his hand fall to his lap.

"Why do things have to change?" Why can't we just go about as we were?"

"Because, Lyddy," he started patiently, trying to not to think she was too young for this kind of conversation. "What do you think happened downstairs?"

"Chalk it up to temporary insanity?" She offered.

"Lydia, you know we can't do that."

Her blue eyes flared, indignation burning bright. "Why not? Why do we have to analyze it and make a mountain out of a molehill? Things do not have to change. We have a perfectly lovely friendship. Why should one near-kiss ruin it?"

After a moment, Charles looked away from his dear friend. "I didn't say that it would ruin it."

Lydia sagged against the back of the sofa. She hadn't meant for her remark to hurt him. She was scared, unsure. Charles had always been so good to her. She simply didn't want to lose that.

"It wasn't entirely unpleasant," she chided.

Charles heard the unmistakable lydianess of the statement and let a smile shine for her. This, this right here was what he loved about their friendship; the ease, the unrelenting fun that Lydia seemed to bring into his life by the bagful. She had always being like Tinkerbell to his Peter Pan and he adored it.

Looking at her brilliant smile, Charles felt his stomach roll with joy.

"You're one of the people in this world most dear to me." His eyes lit up when she nodded that she felt the same. He touched her cheek softly. "You know that, while I am a barrister, I am not a liar. When I told you that you were beautiful tonight I meant it."

"I know, Charles," she replied softly, trying desperately not to lean against his caressing hand. She was failing miserably.

"And when I was going to kiss you it was because I wanted to." Not able to restrain his sudden, flaring desire, Charles ran his thumb over Lydia's bottom lip. "In fact, I think I still want to."

His fingers slipped beneath her chin for the second time that evening and he looked into those gorgeous ocean-colored eyes, seeing flashes of wanting that mirrored his own.

"No, I definitely still want to kiss you."

Lydia sucked in a long, shaky breath as she thought of her darling friend and the torment he was inflicting upon her. He had seen her through so much: going away to school, her first beau and, subsequently, her first heartbreak. He had sat through many a late night telephone call when she had doubts about law school. He was the first person after Elizabeth that Lydia had to share good news with. Until this moment, she'd never realized what Charles Bingley had come to mean to her.

"I want you to kiss me," she replied in a stubborn whisper that seemed to catch in her throat before it slipped to life from her lips.

He looked momentarily surprised then the soft smile fluttered away from his lips as he got down to the serious business of kissing his best friend.

His hand caressed her cheek so lightly that if she hadn't seen it she wouldn't have been sure it was there. Then it disappeared behind her head and she heard a faint click indicating that the clip that had secured her hair was no longer in place. Charles slipped his fingers into the silken mass of chestnut ringlets that had been unleashed and seemed to stroke each strand. With his hand still behind her head, he pulled her forward, tilting her face back so that he met her lips gently, delicately.

His mouth felt like satin beneath hers, she thought as her arms snaked around his neck. Her fingers stole his idea, dancing up into the sandy curls perched haphazardly on the top of his head.

The kiss grew warmer as Charles realized the need to taste her. His tongue found its way into her lovely mouth without so much as a warning. His snogging partner, however, did not seem to mind.

For several minutes they were a tangle of searching hands and probing tongues.

It was Lydia who pulled away first, fighting for air and looking dazed.

"Lord!" She exclaimed. "If I would have know you kissed like that we would have done that years ago!"

"If I would have kissed you like that years ago I would have ended up in jail," was Charles' cheeky reply. He licked his lips lecherously, tasting the remnants of her there.

"Point well taken," Lydia conceded. "Would you think terribly of me if I suggested that we try to do that as often as possible? I'm sure that it would improve my liking of you a great deal."

"How could you like me anymore? I thought I was your best friend."

"Oh, no. I dislike you greatly. One might even go so far as to say that I hate you."

"Well, dear," he snorted and pretended to mull it over. "In that case, I must be willing to make a dire sacrifice. We'll do that as much as we can until you're mad about me."

Charles straightened for a moment and steeled himself to continuing sacrificing for Lydia.

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