The Heart of Spring by Bernadette E.

This story is dedicated to the memory of J.K.B. --- who was easily the bravest ten-year-old I have ever encountered. Most adults aspire to live their lives with as much faith, courage and bravery as she lived in ten brief years.

Part 1: Just the Beginning...

“Izzy! Izzy, wake up! I'm hungry.”

Twenty-four year old Elizabeth Bennet sat up with a jolt---and winced. Small fingers had latched themselves firmly around her hair and were now pulling with strength that belied the culprit's small size. Slowly, carefully, Lizzy detached the small fingers from her braids. The small hands belonged to Lizzy's youngest sister, four-year-old Anya Bennet, who was now watching the elder Bennet girl with wide, expectant eyes.

"I'm hungry, Izzy!" the child repeated insistently.

When last she'd been awake, the fourth floor waiting room of George Washington Hospital had been packed full with family members. Now it was empty---all but for Elizabeth herself and her youngest sister.

Feeling more than a bit befuddled, Lizzy had only her youngest sister to turn to for explanation.

“Where are Mom and Dad, Annie?” she asked, tentatively stretching tight back muscles. The child's only answer was a shrug of her small shoulders and a loud declaration of,

“I'm thirsty, too.”

Elizabeth gave a weary sigh, pulling a faded MSU sweatshirt over her dark blue tank top. Slowly (very slowly---her muscles were complaining loudly), she picked up her youngest sister, balancing the four-year-old on her right hip and checking her watch again.

It was now 8:15 AM.

And where had everyone disappeared to? Only an hour ago the waiting room at the hospital had been packed with people.

Nearly all of the Bennet children had managed to come and show of support. Sean couldn't be there (for obvious reason that he now lived in Mexico), but all Mr. and Mrs. Bennet's other children had all managed to come at one time or another during the night or early morning---Andy and Pete, Jane, Lynnia, Mary, Nick and of course, Anya---everyone that could come had been there, at least for an hour or two. They were a large group and a loud one in the best of circumstances, but they were loyal to each other, despite it all. Everyone had been nervously awaiting the outcome of Kitty Bennet's operation…

“Izzy,” Anya was tugging on Lizzy's braid again, her dark eyes imploring, “Can we get food now?”

“I'll see if I can find you something, honey,” Lizzy responded absentmindedly. She felt as though her mind were going in five directions at once as she walked with Anya down the hallway.

I wonder if something happened while I was asleep?…No, they would have woken me…I should just get something for Annie to eat…poor thing probably hasn't had breakfast…The food in the hospital's cafeteria is so awful...The vending machines down the hall? All the food in those machines is terrible for little children…Not much choice, really. Maybe it'll have something like raisins or crackers or…They should have woken me if something had happened---would have, if something---if Kitty---

“Lizzy!”

A loud voice jarred Elizabeth from her thoughts. She stopped short, barely managing to avoid a mid-hall collision with another of her younger sisters, seventeen-year-old Lynnia Bennet.

“Watch where you're going, will you? We've already got one sister in the hospital; God knows we don't need another,” Lynnia exclaimed crossly. “Lizzy---you look just awful…” her sister wrinkled up her nose.

“How's Kitty?” Lizzy asked, brushing off her sister's comment. “Where are Mom and Dad?”

Lynnia Bennet moved aside to let fifteen-year-old Mary and eleven-year-old Nicholas sneak past her before she motioned Elizabeth aside.

“Mom and Dad are with Kit now,” Lynnia informed her sister. “Mary, Nick and I just ate breakfast. Anya, of course, insisted on staying with you---besides which, she absolutely refuses to eat the cafeteria food---you know what a picky little princess that she right now about her food," Lynnia rolled her eyes and looked pointedly at little Anya. "At any rate, Dad told us to let you get some sleep. And don't get that high and mighty look on your face, Lizzy---Kitty's fine, and you know I would have woken you if something had happened. The surgery went just as the doctor's told us. She's in the recovery room, sleeping of the anesthesia. Mom and Dad are there now. Everyone else had to go to work---Jane's got a performance tonight so she left shortly after you fell asleep. Pete left around 7:30 this morning; he's celebrating 8:00 A.M. mass at Saint Vincent's---said he'd pray for Kitty, of course. Oh, and Andy had a flight---left about ten minutes ago.”

Elizabeth nodded. She'd expected Andy, Peter and Jane to be gone. Twenty-five year old Jane Bennet was a professional ballerina for the American Ballet Theater and had daily rehearsals starting at 9:30 AM sharp, but Lizzy knew she liked to get there early and stretch. Peter Bennet (the eldest of the Bennet children at twenty-nine) was a recently ordained priest and scheduled to celebrate morning mass for his parishioners. And Lizzy knew that Andy (Pete's twin and his polar opposite in everything but looks), a pilot in the U.S. Air Force, had been scheduled for a morning flight to Arizona.

They'd all been doing their best to rearrange their work, trying to spend as much time with Kitty as possible, but it was getting hard for all of them, rearranging their lives now that Kitty was getting worse...

Elizabeth Bennet, now twenty-four years old, had moved back to the D.C. area just three weeks ago. She'd been studying in Europe for the past four years, immersing herself in language with the hope of working as a translator. After four years living in Belgium, she'd managed to gain membership with the American Translators Association. Now that her studies had officially ended and she'd achieved the proper certification, her plan had been to move back to the U.S. as soon a good job presented itself.

She'd been forced to speed up the moving process, though, making a quick return to her family's home in Maryland once she'd heard how ill Kitty had become...

“Jane told me to tell you when she woke up that she needs a ride after her rehearsals this afternoon,” Lynnia continued. “Her car is still in the auto shop.”

“Yeah, I remember…” Lizzy replied absently, putting Anya down. Her arms were beginning to tire. Elizabeth looked to her youngest sister. “Sorry sweetheart. You're getting too big for me to hold for too long." Lizzy turned her attention back to Lynnia, ignoring Anya's pouting expression. "I think I'll go check on Mom and Dad and Kitty. I told Anya I'd get her something to eat---can I get you anything?”

Lynnia shook her head.

“No thanks. And hand the kid over to me, why don't you? I'll keep her occupied. Maybe I can bribe Nick into letting her play with his Game Boy…You just go visit Kitty, maybe get some coffee---it couldn't hurt after the night we've all had…”

Lizzy nodded, gratefully picking Anya up and transferring her to Lynnia's arms.

"No---I wanna stay with Lizzy!" Anya protested loudly, pouting as she was transferred from one sister to the other. Now that she was back from Europe, Lizzy had been quickly donned with the status of Anya's new `favorite' sister.

Ignoring the little girl's protests, Lynnia simply rolled her eyes and waved to her Lizzy, taking their youngest sibling back to the waiting room.

Elizabeth watched her sisters depart, struck suddenly by the realization of just how mature Lynnia Bennet had become in the last few years. Before Lizzy had gone off to study in Europe, she and Lynnia had been like fire and ice. Now that they were both older, though, they seemed to have finally reached some common ground.

Funny how things can change… Lizzy mused as she turned the corridor and walked towards the nurse's station. She motioned to the nearest nurse.

"Excuse me. I'm here to visit my sister, Katherine Bennet? She's recovering from surgery…"

The nurse paused, typing rapidly into the computer.

"Katherine Bennet. Katherine…Katherine Christiana Bennet? She's in room 435." The nurse motioned Elizabeth to follow her past the double doors into the Recovery Ward. As they walked, the nurse handed her gloves and a surgical mask.

"You'll need this," she informed the young woman. "It's for Katherine's protection; she's very susceptible to infection at this stage."

Elizabeth nodded. Suddenly (and, she insisted, irrationally) she was filled with a sense of anxious fear and anticipation for her sister. It was as though a snake had coiled deftly coiled itself around her stomach muscles and was now beginning to squeeze.

"Put on that mask," the nurse instructed her kindly. "And just go in that direction, Miss Bennet."

Nodding nervously, Elizabeth drew the elastic of the mask over her hair and prepared to enter her sister's hospital room.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Good morning, Mr. Darcy. Welcome to our establishment. If you'll please just follow me, I have your table waiting…”

Twenty-seven year old Will Darcy nodded, dutifully following the waiter through the restaurant of the luxurious Four Seasons Hotel.

As he walked, he tried to school his face to passivity, hoping his expression didn't reveal how much he didn't want to be eating breakfast with the very person he was approaching at this moment---world renowned model Helena Allsworth and her business tycoon fiancé, Bill Starling.

Fitzwilliam checked his watch. It was 8:15 AM. He'd arrived there five minutes ago, and already he wanted to leave. He had a sinking feeling that this was going to turn into a long morning.

“Darcy,” Helena Allsworth greeted him coolly as he neared her table. “I thought you'd get here sooner.”

“Good morning, Miss Allsworth,” he greeted her with civil formality as he sat.

“May I bring you our list of breakfast specials, sir?” a waiter interjected politely, handing Will a menu. “Our chef cooks up excellent eggs benedict; we also have a large selection of fresh fruits and yogurts if you're looking for something a bit…”

“Just coffee, thank you,” Will replied, deliberately ignoring Helena coy smile and turning his attention to the waiter. “I'm only here on business.”

Helena smirked and took a sip from her water glass as the waiter departed.

“Some things don't change, I see. At age twenty-seven, you're still as stiff and starched as you were in college, Darcy." she caught a piece of ice between her teeth and bit before continuing, "I did try to warm things up a bit in your life, if you remember…Sad that it didn't work out…”

“I've no doubt you're heartbroken,” Darcy responded dryly as he unfolded his napkin. Helena's only response to that was a throaty laugh.

“I've spent many a sleepless night thinking about it, trust me, Darcy. At any rate, I hear you're a single man again,” a single, delicate eyebrow arched. "Sleeping alone?"

Darcy cut her off with a frown.

"I'm not here for my amusement, Helena. I'm representing my father. Where's Starling? He and I have business to discuss.”

She sat back with a heavy sigh, an annoyed look flitting across her face. Oil tycoon Bill Starling, Helena's newest fiancé, was looking to invest heavily in some of Darcy Industries newest ventures.

“I haven't the faintest idea," was Helena's reply. "All you ever care about is business, Darcy. It's all you've ever cared about,” she took a sip of tea and sighed resignedly, tapping her nails on the edge of the porcelain cup. “If you're that eager to get this over with though, you needn't worry. Starling told me he wanted this meeting short. He's probably on the phone with the lawyers.”

He suppressed a laugh as he watched Helena absently assess the jewels that draped her wrists and hands. She seemed unsure which jewel she fancied most. At last she stopped at the engagement ring---a huge blazing rock set in platinum (the word diamond seemed too paltry to describe such a large stone).

“Nice trinket,” he commented casually, gesturing to her engagement ring as he set down his coffee cup.

“Hmmm…" she examined the stone with pursed lips. "It ought to be nice," Helena gave a weary sigh. "Bill's turning sixty-eight this month, after all.” She shook her head. “He does buy me some pretty things, though…”

She placed her fingers on the table, admiring the shine of the jewelry on the backdrop of the hotel's lace tablecloth.

“Pardon me for interrupting, sir---”

The concierge approached their table, his expression apologetic. Helena's brow furrowed.

“What is it?” Helena demanded. “Where's my fiancé? He hasn't died or anything, has he?”

“I'm sorry to interrupt, Mr. Darcy,” was the man's tactful reply. “But sir, you have a phone call at the main desk. The caller was quite insistent that she be allowed to speak with you---”

“Thank you,” Darcy replied. "Excuse me, Helena." Nodding (and more than a little relieved to have a valid excuse for leaving), Will followed the concierge to the phone at the front desk.

"The caller was quite insistent, sir---" the hotel employee handed him the phone.

Darcy nodded. Curious, and more concerned than his facial expressions revealed, Will picked up the phone.

"Hello?"

“Oh, Mr. Darcy! I'm sorry for interrupting your business meeting sir, but---”

It was Elaine Hess---his father's personal assistant.

“What's happened, Elaine?" Will leaned against the front desk, nervously running his free hand through his dark curls. "What's wrong?”

“It's your father, sir,” she began. “He's in the hospital---the emergency room at George Washington Hospital---”

Oh, God. His jaw clenching, Will tried his hardest to keep his voice calm.

“Another heart attack?”

“They're not sure, sir. I think so, though---he just collapsed on the golf course---in the middle of the seventh hole. I told him months back he should stop golfing but---”

“We both know how stubborn he is,” the young man answered her, inwardly cursing his father's obstinacy. His father was a brilliant man in so many ways, but he could be a damn fool when it came to his own health, they all knew it…

“Oleg called the ambulance as soon as Mr. Darcy collapsed. They rushed him into the E.R.,” Elaine continued, “But don't worry sir, I've got Miss Darcy here in the lobby with me and Doctor Anton's here…”

“Good, Elaine,” Fitzwilliam cut her off. “I'll be there as soon as possible.”

“All right, sir. You'd best arrive soon, though, Georgia's terribly upset---”

Will cut her off and hung up the phone. Quickly, he motioned to the concierge and when he spoke he spoke with speed.

“When Mr. Starling arrives, give him my apologies. Tell him I've been called away by a family emergency; ask him to call my secretary and reschedule the meeting for a time that suits him. Oh, and tell them that their hotel bill is covered compliments of Darcy Industries. Send his bill to my business address.” Will distractedly pulled out his wallet, tipping the concierge with the nearest thing he could reach---a fifty-dollar bill.

Without so much as a goodbye, young Fitzwilliam Darcy was out the door. Business deals and oil tycoons were suddenly the farthest thing from his mind.

He just hoped he'd make it to his father's side on time…

------------------------------------------------------------

“Oh, Mr. Darcy, sir!” Elaine Huntington greeted him breathlessly as soon as he stepped from hospital's elevator. “Thank goodness you're here!”

“Elaine,” he greeted her. “How's my father? Where's Georgia?”

“You're father is in surgery now, sir," she informed him nervously. "Georgia's just down the hall, getting something to eat. She's better now than she was, but I thought maybe some food would help settle her---she was in quite a state earlier, poor girl---couldn't help it though, her hormones being as they are just now. I swear, that girl's growing larger with each day that passes."

Thanking Elaine, Will went in search of his younger sister. She was standing by the vending machine, digging through her purse, her long, dark curls pulled up in a haphazard bun. As he approached, Will could tell that Elaine had been right in her comment; Georgia was getting bigger by the day---Darcy had just been too busy with work of late to take much notice.

Georgia Darcy was now two months pregnant---a fact that was becoming more and more noticeable given Georgia's willowy figure. Will still felt his blood stir in anger at the thought that Gregory Wickham, (Georgia's ex-boyfriend and the baby's father), had nearly beaten Georgia senseless when he'd first heard the news that she was pregnant. Now, however, was not the right time to dwell on that particular issue, especially when Will was trying his hardest to remain calm...

Seeing that she was oblivious to his approach, Will tapped Georgia on the shoulder. Georgia looked up.

“Need money?” he asked her with a weak smile.

Recognizing her brother, Georgia's dark eyes glistened and she threw her arms tightly around Will with a shuddering sob. When she finally pulled away from him, she started to sign.

"Thank goodness you're here." She wiped away a stray tear, and signed quickly to her brother, "The doctors look awfully grim this time, Will."

Twenty-year-old Georgia Darcy was born deaf. She'd learned to read lips as a child, of course, but communicating through sign language had become second nature to the Darcy family.

"They haven't told me much, but I have a feeling they'll give you an honest answer." she shrugged listlessly before her hands shaped her next words, "As you can see, I'm a nervous wreck."

"So am I," Will admitted.

"Excuse, Georgia? Fitzwilliam?"

Will turned to see Dr. Deepak Anton standing before him. The doctor was still in surgical scrubs and held a medical clip board in his hands. Greeting the physician warmly, Will shook the doctor's proffered hand.

"It's good to see you again, Dr. Anton," Dr. Anton had been the
Darcy's family physician since before their mother's death, nearly fifteen years ago. "How is he?"

The doctor pinched the bridge of his nose, scribbling rapidly on his clipboard before responding. Will felt the tight grip of Georgia's fingers on his forearm.

"Your father is a stubborn man," the doctor finally responded with a rueful smile. "He made it through the surgery just fine, all things considered."

Will felt the grip on his arm loosened slowly and he allowed himself to exhale.

"Thank God," Georgia signed quickly before pressing her hand to her heart.

"If you'll just follow me," Dr. Anton told the siblings. "I think it's all right for you to see him for yourself."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Taking a deep breath, Elizabeth stepped into her sister's hospital room, and shut the door quietly behind her. The surgical mask given to her in order to enter Kitty's room made her breath hot and the fabric tickled her nose.

Elizabeth gaze first fell to her sister, who looked small and frail, engulfed by the hospital bed and the medical equipment. Fourteen-year-old Kitty was sound asleep. Her young face looked haggard and swollen from the drugs they'd given her. She was attached to more wires and tubes and expensive monitors than Lizzy wished to count.

Mr. and Mrs. Bennet sat on either side of the child---keeping guard, it seemed. Both parents were similarly garbed in protective surgical masks. Mr. Bennet had a stack full of case files to keep him occupied. His glasses were on and he was rapidly underlining passages of interest, flipping through the stack of papers with speed and efficiency. He seemed as composed and comfortable in the hospital room as he was working in his law office.

Conversely, Mrs. Bennet looked as though she were nearing a breaking point. She was sitting very still, fretfully watching her middle child as she clutched knitting needles and a halfway knit, pale pink scarf.

“Mom?” Elizabeth ventured softly. Her throat felt dry. She stepped closer to the bed, nervously tucking a stray hair behind the elastic of the surgical mask. She took another step, trying to get her parents attention. “Mamma? Daddy? How's Kitty doing?”

Hearing his eldest daughter's voice, Harold Bennet looked up and gave a wan smile, his eyes tired.

“Ah, there's my Ellie,” he said softly, reaching out his free hand to give Elizabeth's a reassuring squeeze. His voice, too, was dulled behind the mask. Elizabeth squeezed right back hoping her expression behind the surgical mask was a confident one---for his sake. Her father was the only one who ever called her Ellie…

“Your mother and I thought it best to let you sleep for a bit,” he explained, “You took such good care of your younger brother and sisters all last night, calming them down in the midst of all this. Every one else managed to get some sleep, but you were up all night. You needed a rest, sweetheart.”

Elizabeth nodded numbly.

“I was going to get Anya something for breakfast,” Lizzy said at last, her gaze shifting to her mother. “Can I get you anything, Mom?”

There was a long pause before Fanny Bennet replied, and when she did her voice sounded distant, distracted.

“Your sister's doing better than we'd thought. More stable, the doctors said, considering. The doctors don't expect her to wake for awhile…not until the anesthesia's worn off…” her voice softened a bit before drifting off at last.

Lizzy struggled to find a response.

“Why don't I get you some coffee, Mom?” she finally managed, wincing to hear her own voice tremble.

“That'll be fine, Ellie,” her father answered for his wife, watching Mrs. Bennet with concern. “Decaffeinated for your mother; and something strong and black for me.”

“All right,” Elizabeth said with an uneasy nod. “Um…I'll be back in a minute.”

Quietly, she exited the room, shutting the door behind her before steadying herself against the nearest wall. Tearing off the mask, Lizzy took a deep breath to calm herself.

Kitty had been in the hospital countless times before this, and they'd all handled it so well. Why was it so difficult for everyone this time?

Maybe it was because they all knew the consequences this time if the tumor came back, again…

When at last she felt collected, she made her way towards the elevator only to hear the sharp riiiinnngggg of her cellphone.

“No cell phones allowed on hospital grounds!” a passing nurse admonished Lizzy sternly.

Lizzy nodded solemnly. Suddenly feeling like a truant school girl, she ducked into the elevator, quickly pressed the down button and answered her phone.

“Hello?” she answered, watching the elevator doors shut.

“Lizzy?” an eager voice said on the other line.

Lizzy exhaled. It was Charlotte Li, one of Lizzy's best friends.

“Char. I can't talk long; I'm in a hospital elevator.”

“How's your sister?”

“Recovering,” was Lizzy's quick response. She slumped against the elevator wall, watching the elevator numbers light up, 5-6-7. She couldn't remember---was the cafeteria on the eighth floor? She hoped so…“I'd rather not discuss it, actually, Char. What's up?”

“I have good news for you,” Charlotte assured her. “I may have found you a job here in D.C.”

“A job?” Elizabeth repeated, straightening up from her slumped position. “How? With who?”

“It's with the company I work for. Darcy Industries. I know you need the work, having just moved back to the area, and everything that's going on with your family, so I talked to some people in Human Resources,” Charlotte responded enthusiastically. Charlotte Li was an accountant at Darcy Industries downtown office. “It's just your luck, Lizzy, they've developd a sudden need for an interpreter---turns out that the girl they first hired had to quit. You'll need to fax them your résumé, of course, and have the obligatory interview, you know the drill, but they're really in a bind and the job pays well. I assured them that you're properly certified now and you've got the right insure. They sounded excited at the prospect of hiring you. If you don't want to the job, though---”

“It's fine, Char,” Elizabeth assured her. “What's the position, exactly?”

“Well, Darcy Industries is negotiating a partnership with two large European corporations just now, one in France and another in Belgium, which I figured is perfect as you've just come back from living there and you've got proper qualifications now, and all of that.” Charlotte explained, “Apparently Fitzwilliam Tech---a subsidiary of Darcy Industries, I'm sure you've heard of them---is looking to go international with Fitzwilliam Wireless. Darcy Industries is looking for foreign financial backers for the primary investment; it'll give them more clout with foreign banks, plus it'll cut down on the personal risk to the company, you understand...”

“France and Belgium? That'll be French and Dutch---though really, most people in Belgium can speak English…Maybe it just looks better for trade relations if they have official documents translated in all three languages...” Lizzy mused.

“I guess...Anyway, you'd work at Darcy Industries' main office, on hand at business meetings and the like. You might have to travel a bit in the upcoming months, but mainly your work will be in their office here in D.C. And it pays well, Lizzy. Really well from what the lady said. Now, the job's temporary. It'll only be nine months, maybe a year depending on how well their business negotiations go, but it's something, at least...”

“It's perfect. Just what I needed right now, Char,” Lizzy assured her friend as the elevator doors opened and she stepped into the hallway, looking for the colored arrow that said 'cafeteria.' “Assuming that they hire me, when would I start?”

“As soon as possible, once you pass their interview,” Charlotte replied. “The lady I spoke to said that assuming all your information checks out, they'd need you to start a week from Friday. Once you're hired, you'll report directly to the main man himself, Mr. Darcy.” Charlotte informed her. “What do you know about F.M. Darcy?”

“Absolutely nothing,” Elizabeth admitted stopping short of the cafeteria. “Sorry, Char, but reading about the stock market and American entrepreneurs isn't my idea of a good time…”

"Erm…" there was a pause on Charlotte's end of the line. “Okay, well, just don't mention that when you meet him."

Lizzy was suddenly growing suspicious.

“Why?”

"Well, it's just that I think you'll find he's just very business-like, that's all. It's a huge company and he's got a lot of responsibility now, especially given his age…"

"What does that mean?" Elizabeth demanded. "Given his age? What in the world does that mean, Char? What--is he an eighty-five year old with about as much personality as a paper bag, or something?"

“You'll see soon enough,” Char responded cryptically. And, with nothing more than a click of her phone, she was gone.

Part 2: Unexpected Introductions

The morning of her first day at her new job, Lizzy dropped her sister Jane off at the Kennedy Center for the Arts (Jane's little green Honda was still in the auto shop).

“Wish me luck,” Lizzy said with a bright grin as they pulled up to the parking lot of the Kennedy Center. She put the car in park.

“I'm sure you'll be just wonderful,” Jane assured her sister solemnly, unbuckling her seatbelt and reaching in the back seat for her dance bag.

“One can only hope,” was Lizzy's casual reply. “I don't know, Jane---Charlotte sounded pretty foreboding over the phone, though. The lady who offered me the job warned me that Mr. Darcy is very intellectual, very driven and very serious.” Lizzy wrinkled her nose. “To hear the talk, you'd think he was Faustus reincarnate, climbing out of the bowels of hell.”

Jane smiled fondly at her sister before exiting the car.

“I'm sure he won't be as bad as all that,” she assured Elizabeth. “Besides,” she lifted her chin resolutely, “You're wearing a very nice outfit today---he won't be able to help but think that you look professional.”

Jane had insisted that Lizzy borrow her cranberry colored skirt and cardigan for the first day at her new job. It'll look great with your skin tone, Lizzy, she had assured her earlier that morning.

Jane had been right---it did look great with her skin tone. And it had fit her, too---though just barely. There wasn't anything unusual in that, though. While petite, Lizzy had always possessed more curves than her willowy, ballerina sister.

“With my luck, he'll be too old and blind to notice,” Elizabeth commented lightheartedly. “It's almost better if he does turn out to be an eight-five-year-old, though. He can adopt me as a granddaughter he never had, make me heir to his fortune and insist on buy me dinners with his reduced rates from AARP,” she said to her sister with a wink.

“You always have liked older men,” Jane replied devilishly, grinning as well.

“True, but dating an older man who's old enough qualify for the title geriatric is taking it a bit far, don't you think?” Elizabeth quipped. “I don't care how rich he might be--- if he's got dentures, it would never work---”

Jane shook her head, laughing and got out of the car.

“See you, Janie…”

“Good luck, Lizzy.”

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Twenty-six year old Charles Bingley had slept through his alarm.

In the course of the morning, he'd also nicked his cheek shaving, spilled ink on his favorite blue polo shirt, and temporarily lost the keys to his Porsche.

It was looking to be a long day.

Charlie, a professional freelance photographer, had been hired to take publicity photographs for the fall production of Swan Lake at the Kennedy Center. His original plan had been to arrive at 8:00 AM sharp, allowing himself plenty of time to set up his equipment and fiddle with whatever finicky lighting the Center had set up for him---he'd never worked for them before, after all.

At this rate, though, the young man thought as he tried to retain hold of his armload of cameras, packs of film and other technical equipment, I wouldn't even manage to get in their front door.

He'd barely made it to the entrance door when he heard a single roll of film from his case fall and hit the pavement. His hands were too full to even contemplate retrieving the lost object.

“I think I need to hire an assistant…”

A cool wind ruffled Charlie's blond hair, sending a chill down his spine.

After a mild autumn, it seemed that the proper seasonal weather finally arrived in the District. He shivered. It wasn't often that young Bingley actually missed the summer he'd spent working in South America (he'd been taking photos for the travel magazine)---but now was proving to be one of those rare moments.

Of course, trying to steer clear of tribal warfare and the drug traffickers hadn't been exactly fun…The weather, though, that had been a definite plus...

He was just about to voice these very words when a voice called him from behind, causing him to turn.

“Excuse me…sir? Um…I think you might have dropped this—”A young woman jogged towards him, holding the discarded roll of film in her hands.

She was a woman of slight build and mid height, wearing a modest and practical outfit of black sweats and a gray fleece (zipped to her chin). Her blond hair had been pulled off her face and back into a delicate bun.

She also just happened to be the most beautiful creature Charles Bingley had ever set his eyes on.

Maybe his morning was looking up after all…

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Switching off her turn signal, Elizabeth Bennet pulled into the official `Darcy Industries' Parking lot. She parked, unbuckled her seatbelt, and sat back in her seat, admiring her new office building from afar.

Okay, so it technically wasn't her office, but it was the office building---the main one, in fact, Darcy Industries world-wide headquarters. And she'd be working for Mr. Darcy himself.

Well, she thought to herself nervously drumming her fingers on the dashboard, I could just as well wait inside the building as she could wait in her car. Might as well go inside…

Suddenly the prospect of working for the "Mr. Darcy" of Darcy Industries was beginning to sound daunting…

She shook her head and reached in the back seat for her purse. She couldn't let herself be intimidated by a thing like that. No doubt this mysterious Mr. Darcy, whoever he was, had a big enough ego running a multi-million dollar company. Elizabeth Bennet was certainly wasn't going to add to that ego by letting herself be intimidated by him.

Fluffing her hair self consciously and nervously fixing her skirt, Lizzy began walking towards her new office building.

It was a large, imposing structure, probably built around the turn of the last century. The building's façade was made entirely of white marble and a sign a few feet from the entrance proclaimed “Darcy Industries, Inc.” in gleaming brass letters.

As she walked towards the office building, Elizabeth couldn't help but recall the previous night's family dinner in her mind.

Everyone was thrilled with her new job---everyone but her mother, of course.

It was a family ritual for any Bennet child living within a half hour drive of Harold and Fanny Bennet's home on 1439 Longbourn Street to attend the nightly family dinner.

Last night, while Jane had kept the younger Bennet siblings occupied (in particular Kitty Bennet, just recently returned from the hospital and now making a slow recovery), Lizzy had helped her mother make dinner.

After staying a week in the hospital, Kitty had been permitted to return home for the rest of her recovery. Since Kitty's return, Fanny had seemed to revert back to her normal self. True to form, her mother had started lecturing Elizabeth from the first moment she'd stepped in the kitchen.

Elizabeth's younger brother, Nick Bennet, who'd been sitting at the kitchen table playing his hand-held computer game (and who was very familiar hearing his mother scold his older sisters), had grinned to hear his mother arguing with his sister. Watching them go back and forth proved to be more entertaining for the eleven-year-old than playing Game Boy.

When Fanny left the room to check on the laundry, Nick got up from his seat. Setting down his game, Nick had leaned against the counter, watching Lizzy chop onions at the cutting board.

“Back from Europe and she's already got you cooking dinner…” Nick snickered, shaking his head as he reached past her to grab a cookie from the cookie jar. He took a bite of the cookie, shaking his head. “Better you than me …”

“You might not say that once you've tasted what I'm making, kiddo,” Lizzy had replied to her brother with a grin. “You forget---it's been awhile since you've eaten anything I've cooked…”

“Nicholas!” Mrs. Bennet had interrupted their conversation as she re-entered the kitchen. Nick froze to hear Fanny Bennet's voice. “Put down that cookie, go wash those hands and set the table---” Lizzy laughed

Of all the things Elizabeth had missed during her time studying in Europe, she'd missed these moments with her siblings the most…

Coming back over to the oven, Mrs. Bennet had shooed Nick away only to continue her lecture to Elizabeth. “Honestly, Lizzy, I don't know how you'll ever manage to take care of children and a family of your own if you don't learn to cook properly---”

“Great Aunt Gardenia can't cook, and she managed just fine when Uncle Alvin was alive,” Elizabeth interjected with a grin to her mother. Fanny gave a disgruntled `cluck' with her tongue.

“You always insist on being difficult,” her mother had answered her. “And as far as your aunt is concerned, she knows as well as I do that you'll just end up getting married soon enough, and then you and your husband will want to have babies and you'll forget about all this career nonsense---” her mother began stirring the spaghetti sauce more vigorously as she spoke “And then you'll have to know how to cook properly!” She put the spoon down, smiling slyly as she continued, “Miriam Collins told me last Sunday that her son Billy is still single ---did you know that? And he at the same place you'll be working...Why don't you go out with him now that you're living in the area---he seems like such a nice boy…”

Lizzy groaned.

Bill Collins, (otherwise known as `Sir-Stinks-A-Lot' in high school for his propensity to skip showers), had been madly in love with Elizabeth all through high school. Lizzy had avoided seeing him since high school graduation.

All she knew about him now (courtesy of her mother, of course) was that he now an accountant also working (unfortunately) for Darcy Industries. She hadn't wanted to know anything beyond that.

“Mother, I refuse to go out with Billy Collins…” she'd insisted.

“Why not? He's successful and he seems to be a very friendly young man---”

“Mother, he's awful! You didn't know him in high school!”

That had pretty much been the end of that conversation. Of all the Bennet children, Fanny Bennet always had the most trouble understanding Elizabeth…

Lizzy stopped mid thought, realizing that she'd reached the doors of “Darcy Industries Inc.” Exerting a good deal of effort, Lizzy pulled open the heavy brass doors and walked into the lobby. After getting herself checked through security, Elizabeth checked her watch. She had twenty minutes to waste before she was scheduled to report to Mr. Darcy's office.

F.M. Darcy was a curiosity for her. She knew absolutely nothing about the man---didn't even know what the F.M stood for---but Charlotte's words about him over the phone had set off warning lights in her head. Surely he couldn't be that bad, could he?

Besides, Elizabeth told herself, she certainly wasn't one to be easily intimidated.

Of course, that didn't mean she didn't get a little nervous on occasion. Now that she was actually in the building, her stomach was feeling a little jittery. Here she was, Elizabeth Ann Bennet, working for the head of an international corporation...

Suddenly feeling in desperate need of some coffee, Lizzy went in search of the cafeteria.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Charles Bingley blinked dumbly at the young woman who stood before him. He swallowed hard before making his response.

“Thank you,” he said, managing to give her a warm smile as she showed him the lost role of film. “Yes, I probably will be needing that. You can just put it in my supply bag---”

She shook her head.

“I can hold it for you; you look like you've got your hands full.”

Deftly maneuvering her way around him and his equipment, she opened the door so that he could get through.

“In case you're wondering what I'm doing with all this stuff,” Charlie explained conversationally as they entered the building, “I'm here to take press photos for Swan Lake's---shots for the posters and print ads.”

The young woman nodded.

“You'll want to go this way, then,” she said quietly, gesturing for him to follow her down the hallway.

There was an awkward silence as he followed her down the hallway and up a flight of stairs. Turning a corner, the woman stopped at the first door on her right, pulling out a set of keys.

“Are you here as my official welcoming committee?” Charlie joked as she opened the door. If that's the case, he thought to himself, I should definitely come here more often.

She didn't seem to have heard him, though; instead, she proceeded to unlock the door of the practice room and step inside, turning on the lights with a quick flick of her fingers.

Charlie followed her into the room. Instinctively he assessed the natural light of the room with an expert's eye. He was pleased to see that the ballet company had taken the liberty of set up a silk clothe backdrop to take the pictures against.

He carefully set his bags down. Popping open the snaps of his nearest case, Charlie began fiddling absently with one of his cameras. While his fingers continued on with their deft motion, Charlie tried his best to casually continue their conversation.

“When I called here last about this job I spoke with an elderly woman---not too pleasant on the phone, either,” he began, testing the shutter of his camera experimentally, “It's good to know that they have some friendlier people working here in their human relations department---”

As he spoke, the blond-haired girl set down the bag she'd been carrying. She crouched down and unzipped it, taking from it a bundle wrapped in soft wool. Setting the bundle on the floor, she slipped off her shoes.

“I don't work in the human relations department,” the girl explained quietly. “I'm a dancer with the ballet here. They told us a photographer would be coming today.”

Placing her sneakers in her exercise bag, she once again picked up the bundle of wool and began unwrapping it. Revealed within its folds was a pair of white ballet shoes.

“I like getting here before everyone else, to go over the choreography alone and clear my mind,” she explained softly as she began slipping on the shoes and tying the ribbons around her ankles. “The others should be here soon enough.”

She unzipped her gray fleece, shrugging it off to reveal a black leotard beneath. Though her outfit wasn't revealing in the slightest, it took all of Charles' willpower to keep from dropping his camera.

As a photographer, he'd found throughout his life that his eyes were naturally drawn to objects of beauty and harmonious composition. Granted, he'd never had a huge interest or appreciation in ballet, but his artist's eye told him that standing before him at this very moment was being of exceptional---and natural---beauty. With such doe-like green eyes, delicate cheekbones and porcelain skin, Charles knew that this woman could draw every eye in the room without even trying.

Watching the woman's movements, he forced himself to look away, willing himself not to blush.

“I hope you don't mind if I stretch a bit while you set up?” the young woman asked shyly, drawing Charlie out of his reverie.

“Hm? Oh---no, I don't mind at all,” he assured her, wondering fleetingly if he'd been caught staring at her. As she stretched, he continued chatting amiably. “It actually makes sense that you'd be a dancer---you seem to give off a natural air of...” Her wide green eyes looked up to meet his, causing him to pause before adding, “…grace.”

Charles Bingley, with his young, handsome features, was not a man easily flustered around women (goodness knows he'd dated more than his fair share of them). At this moment, though, he felt little better than an awkward teenager. He felt like laughing. He'd never been affect this way before---by anyone, and he knew it. “Anyway, I suppose I should have been clued in by your outfit and the…um…the ballerina shoes you've got there....”

“My point shoes?” she corrected him with a hint of a smile.

“Right.” He nodded. He reached out his hand to her, “I'm Charles Bingley, by the way. Pardon my manners for not properly introducing myself,” a boyish grin graced his handsome face. “---what's your name?”

A pale blush graced the girl's cheekbones and she managed to give him a soft, hesitant smile.

“I'm Jane Bennet,” she said. She extended her hand to shake his.

“Jane Bennet,” he repeated, completely unaware of how his blue eyes lit up when their hands touched. “It's very nice to meet you, Jane.”

“It's nice to meet you too,” she answered him softly, though her smile widening.

Charlie felt though his heart had skipped a beat---no, two beats…Forget rainforests in South America---this job was getting better by the minute…

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The cafeteria proved crowded---no surprise, given the early hour and most people's general dependency on coffee (Elizabeth included).

Solely intent on getting something to calm her nerves, Elizabeth got in line and ordered a cup of cappuccino, generally oblivious to the people milling around her.

That proved to be her first mistake.

No sooner had she reached the register, her steaming cup of coffee in hand, than she heard a voice call out to her.

“Lizzy Bennet!”

Oh, no. That voice was all too familiar. Elizabeth saw a man roughly comparable to herself in age, pushing himself through the crowd of patient business men and women to reach her. He was short, portly man, pale-skinned and pink-cheeked. Despite the fact that he was no doubt in his twenties, his hair was already thinning, and he had a long, rather unkempt beard.

Natural inclination would say that in the six years since high school graduation, Bill Collins had not aged well. The sad fact was, though---he'd looked that way in high school.

“That'll be 2.05, ma'am.” The cashier informed her. She nodded absently.

“Hello, Billy,” Elizabeth greeted Bill, summoning up more polite pleasantness than she realized she possessed. “How've you been?”

“Elizabeth,” the pink of his round cheeks deepened as he spoke to her. “Your mother's told me all about your studies in Europe---it's just splendid that you're back in the D.C. area.”

“It's good to be back, Billy,” Elizabeth nodded noncommittally, giving him a friendly smile. She began counting out her change to the cashier. “Here's a dollar, and…”

It was just then that her cell phone started to ring.

“Uh oh,” Elizabeth muttered, counting out the change. “Hang on just a minute…”

She went to reach in her purse, only to find her phone was gone.

“Isn't this a funny phone…” Collins had apparently reached into her open purse as she gave the cashier change. He was now examining the phone critically, trying to alter the sound of the ring.

“Bill, could you give that back?”

“Hang on,” Bill was pressing buttons like an amused child.

“Bill, I need to answer that…”

“Just a minute---”

“Bill, it might be important---please don't reach in my purse like that---”

She reached to grab the phone---only causing Bill to jerk his hand away. In doing so, though, Bill accidentally smacked the man standing in line behind him, scattering cups and trays and causing Elizabeth's ringing phone to go flying high into the air...

Lizzy watched her phone arc before landing on a table at a far end of the cafeteria, right in the center of a group of young businessmen.

Elizabeth watched a young man pick the phone up, examining it.

He was the youngest one at the table---probably not much older than herself. He was also devastatingly handsome. She watched him turn the phone over in his hands.

Elizabeth Bennet shook her head, waking herself from the momentary reverie, forcing her gaze away from the young man and back to the situation before her.

“Are you okay?” Lizzy asked the man who'd been hit by Bill's errant arm. The man nodded ruefully. Elizabeth reached down to help Bill stand.

“Thank you, Elizabeth---my apologies---it seems I've made a mess of things,” Bill said as he stood.

“It's all right, Bill.” It seemed that something never changed, regardless of how much time had passed since high school.

Seeing that Bill Collins was still in one piece, Elizabeth went to retrieve her cell phone.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Fitzwilliam Darcy, his pen in hand, absently began tapping his coffee cup. He sat back in the plastic cafeteria chair, absently watching company employees drift in and out of the cafeteria doors.

He'd agreed to meet the company's top business officers over coffee in the cafeteria that morning. The goal had been to discuss preliminary marketing strategies for the Western European market that Darcy Industries was hoping to establish. They were going to start out small, testing the waters with Fitzwilliam Wireless in Belgium and parts of northern France.

Judging how the sales and marketing campaigns went there would determine how they'd go about expanding Darcy Industries European market as a whole.

They'd been discussing this for only a half hour, now, and Will was already finding himself distracted. The irony of the fact that he was the one person that ought to be paying attention had not escaped him…

Not that it mattered, really---he'd known what they were all going to say. He'd stayed late in the office the night before, reading all of the marketing proposals that they were now discussing in-depth.

Will was feeling restless.

He hated feeling restless.

He hadn't been getting much sleep as of late---too much time spent in the late night hours talking with his lawyers. They'd discussed two things, the most pressing of which (in Will's mind at least) had been the filing of a formal suit against Gregory Wickham, claiming physical battery against his sister Georgia…

The second thing keeping him up at night was the discussion he'd been having concerning legal technicalities now that his father was officially (and finally) retired.

Edward Alexander Darcy's second heart attack, thankfully, hadn't been as grave as initially feared. The doctors had warned his father though, a third heart attack would likely end up killing him.

It had, however, forced his father to officially re-retired.

He'd claimed to be retiring after his first heart attack, of course. That was three years ago, now. Edward Darcy hadn't been able to resist showing up at the board meetings, though, talking with investors and stock holders, basically keeping tabs on every aspect of the company that he could manage.

This time, Will's father insisted, he was really and truly retired.

This of course meant that economically speaking, twenty-seven year old Fitzwilliam Darcy was now one of the most powerful men in corporate America. He'd unofficially taken over his father's role in the company after Edward's first heart attack.

Will Darcy's title of acting president and C.E.O. for Darcy Industries Inc had become official in every sense of the word.

It was really a wonder he'd managed to get any sleep in these past two weeks...

Taking a sip of his coffee, Will looked up to see that two of his employees---Ron Ashling (the company's marketing director) and Fred Fallsley (the internet coordinator) were in the midst of a rigorous debate.

Now would probably be the right time to start paying attention to what they're saying, Will thought to himself.

“What do you think, sir?” Ron Ashling, the company's internet marketing director, asked him politely.

Will was prevented from having to admit that he hadn't a clue what they were talking about by a plastic object---a cell phone---flying through the air and arching to land, on top of the notes sprawled across the table. This was directly followed by a large crash resounded from near the cash register. All the executives turn to see Bill Collins, a pay role accountant, sprawled on the floor. Cafeteria trays and scattered around Collins and plastic coffee cups were rolling across the floor.

All the businessmen's eyes were drawn back to the phone that had landed on their table, now emitting the merry and persistent ring, “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.” It was a bright pink cell phone, decorated with sparkles and violet-colored flowers.

In short, it was the most ridiculous object Will Darcy had seen in quite some time.

Picking up the object, he examined it with a frown, rubbing his forehead with his free hand. It wasn't even noon yet, and already he had a headache.

For a moment, it seemed as though none of the businessmen were sure just what to say …

“Sir?” Ashling finally asked. “What do you think?”

Will paused, debating how to answer.

“What I think, Ashing,” he replied at last, his tone cool, “is that Darcy Industries needs to stop hiring unprofessional children who go carrying around juvenile objects like this, when we have jobs that require an adult's demeanor and a real education---”

“Um---excuse me,” a woman's voice interrupted him from behind. “That's my phone.”

Will turned to see a petite woman with auburn hair standing next to his chair. She looked young and more than a little annoyed. What surprised Will most was the fact that her demeanor conveyed an unusual amount of confidence. Did this woman have any idea who he was?

“This is yours?” he asked, holding it up, his eyebrows raised. He almost smiled; he wasn't used to being spoken to in such a manner.

“Yes, it is,” she answered with a nod. “It was given to my by my seventeen year old sister for my birthday---thank you for terming it `ridiculous.' I'd like it back now, please,” she paused, tilting her head to the side before adding coolly, “And, just so you know,” she addded, “I do not appreciate being referred to as unprofessional or an ill-qualified child. The human resources assistant practically begged me to take this job. I haven't the faintest idea who you think you are exactly, or what it is you do here, but I do know one thing---you, sir, are exceptionally rude.”

It was at that very moment that Fitzwilliam Darcy got a good look at her eyes, which were big and bright and flashed fire as she spoke.

They were beautiful eyes in a young, confident and beautiful face. For the first time in his life, Will Darcy was finding himself speechless.

She stood there, watching him expectantly. Her phone was still ringing in his hands.

“May I have my phone back now?” she repeated insistently.

Silent, he handed it back to her, hoping he didn't appear as shaken as he felt.

“Thank you,” with a dignified nod, she left.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Elizabeth Bennet felt like laughing as she departed the cafeteria. Her first meeting with Bill Collins in six years had proved a fiasco. And the young businessman---despite being incredibly handsome---had also proved to be an incredible jerk.

The look of pure shock on his face when she'd confronted him about his comment had proved amusing enough to make up for it, though. From the look on his face, it seemed as though he'd never met anyone who'd dared challenge him when insulted…

She at last clicked the `talk' button on her cell phone.

“Hello?”

“Where've you been?” a small voice chirped to her. “It's been ringing for ages, now.”

It was her fourteen-year-old sister, Kitty.

“Hello, Kitten,” she greeted her sister warmly as she walked down the hallway towards the elevator. What was it with her cell phone and elevators lately? “What are you doing up at this hour?”

The medicine the doctors had put Kitty on directly after the operation caused such fatigue in her younger sister that she usually spent most of the day sleeping…

“Had to get up,” was her sister's matter-of-fact reply. “Off to see the coats again. Today's Friday, remember?”

`The coats' was Kitty's term for the oncology doctors who'd battled against her cancer for the past three years.

“Oh, that's right…” Lizzy replied.

Kitty had her vitals taken now three times a week, and her blood drawn every Friday.

Fairly soon, Kitty would be getting an MRI to see how much of the tumor the doctors had managed to remove this time around.

They were all hoping and praying that she'd stay in remission this time…

Elizabeth watched the elevator doors slide open. She stepped inside. She'd been instructed that Mr. Darcy's office was on the top floor.

“Hey, Kit---guess what?” Lizzy's tone shifted, becoming lighthearted and mischievous. “My first day at work, and I'm already getting into trouble…”

“How?”

She could tell she'd sparked Kitty's interest. Lizzy smiled.

“It's a long story---suffice it to say, it involved Billy Collins---”

“Eewww! Creepy Billy-Beardo?”

Elizabeth giggled despite herself.

“That's terrible…who told you that name?”

“Lynnia.” Ah, yes. That did sound like her seventeen-year-old sister. “Lynnia also said once that if there's any justice in this world, Bill Collins will never be allowed to procreate.”

At that comment, Elizabeth couldn't restrain her laughter.

“Yeah, well, I won't be the one to contradict Lynnia on that point…” Elizabeth began. The elevator doors slid open and Elizabeth walked out. “Hey, Kitten, I've got to start work now---be careful around the coats today, okay?”

“I will,” was Kitty's reply. “Are and Jane you coming to the house for dinner tonight?”

“You bet we are,” Lizzy assured her sister. “Good luck this morning, Kit, and tell mom and dad I say hello.”

“I will…”

With that, Lizzy clicked off her phone, replacing it back in her purse. The top floor held yet another lobby and another long series of doors. A secretary sat behind a desk in the middle of a room. On the opposite end of the wall was a potted fern and two (expensive looking) leather couches. Around the walls were hung a variety of modern paintings. Elizabeth smiled warmly at the secretary. She was a plump, elderly woman with thick glasses and a bright red sweater.

“May I help you?”

“Yes, ma'am,” Elizabeth nodded, extending her hand. “My name's Elizabeth Bennet---I'm here to work for Mr. Darcy…”

“Ah, yes,” the secretary's eyes showed recognition. “I was told to expect you this morning. Mr. Darcy hasn't come in yet, but I expect he'll be here any moment now…”

Elizabeth nodded. She turned, absently examining the artwork hanging on the wall.

She gestured to the wall, directing her comment to the secretary.

“These are very well done---and unusual,” she said absently, holding her purse in her hands. “Who picks your artwork out?”

“I do.”

Elizabeth turned. What she saw nearly caued her to drop her purse.

Standing before her was that same arrogant young businessman---the one she'd argued with in the cafeteria not fifteen minutes ago.

“Good morning, Mr. Darcy,” the secretary looked up absently from her computer screen, gesturing to Elizabeth. “This is Elizabeth Bennet---she's the company's newest translator. She's scheduled to work with you this morning.”

Darcy eyed her coolly.

“Yes, I know.” His tone was brisk. “My secretary will give you a tour of our ninth floor office, Miss Bennet. After that I expect to see you in my office.”

Elizabeth nodded, too shocked to think of a good response.

This Mr. Darcy was certainly no eight-five-year old geriatric. This Mr. Darcy was startling young, and devastatingly handsome (not to mention cold and arrogant).

And then there was the fact that as things stood now, he looked as though he absolutely hated her…

At that point in time, if given the choice, Elizabeth Bennet would have preferred dealing with the eighty-five-year old…

Part Three: Winter's Chill

Elizabeth Bennet shifted uncomfortably in her chair. Her left foot was falling asleep, and her head had long since started to ache around the temples. She pinched the bridge of her nose, her gaze shifting around her small office. It was a small one and, ironically enough, not far from Darcy's office. She supposed it was convenient that way, allowing him to easily summon her to emergency conference calls, and the like. Still, to Elizabeth's way of thinking, the thought that he was right across the hall wasn't exactly a pleasant one.

When she wasn't working for Mr. Darcy directly, she was supposed to be translating company documents for various international corporations---English to French, English to Dutch. It was dull work in Lizzy's mind---not anywhere near the challenge of simultaneous translation---but after so many hours it made her eyes ache.

After her new boss had left her in the hallway, his personal secretary---who introduced herself properly as Mrs. Margaret Reynolds---gave Lizzy the guided tour of the ninth floor, followed by an explanation of the general atmosphere of Darcy Industries.

“Mr. Darcy is young to have so much responsibility,” Mrs. Reynolds explained as they walked. “He's strict, to be sure; he has to be, to make the business world respect him as they did his father. He's sharp as a thumbtack, you'll see that soon enough, but as far as international business goes, he still has to prove himself to the world.” Elizabeth nodded. Margaret Reynolds continued as they walked towards his office, “You'll notice Mr. Darcy's office still has his father's name on it. That should have been changed some time ago. His father's just retired,” Mrs. Reynolds chuckled slightly, amending, “I believe he's truly retired this time—not like the last time, you see…”

Elizabeth didn't see at all, but she nodded anyway. Darcy can't be much older than I am. His father must be the same age as my dad, and he's already retired? Hmm. Must be nice… Lizzy couldn't help but think of all the years her father would have to continue practicing law to afford giving the rest of the Bennet children a proper education.

“Have you worked here long?” Lizzy asked absently, unable to keep from admiring the office's simplistic, yet classical décor as they walked the long halls.

“Oh---I've been working for Darcy Industries as long as young Mr. Darcy's been alive, and longer still!” was Mrs. Reynolds warm response. Lizzy turned to the elderly woman, eyebrows raised.

“Really?” she said, unable to conceal her surprise. Mrs. Reynolds seemed so kindhearted and down to earth---who'd have thought anyone would willingly subject themself to being around such a stick in the mud?

“Oh, yes,” Margaret Reynolds nodded emphatically. “And I don't regret a day of it---not one day.” They'd arrived at Darcy's office. “Well, I'll leave you here, my dear. Mr. Darcy should be inside waiting for you.”

Elizabeth turned to look despairingly at the office door. Well, Mrs. Reynolds may not regret a single day's work here, but Lizzy certainly did. And this was just her first day. This cant possibly bode well for the future, Lizzy thought grimly.

The conversation in Darcy's office proved even more awkward than their meeting in the hall--- if such a thing was possible.

Of course, in this particular instance, Elizabeth herself had been partially to blame.

She'd been sitting in his office, listening to a very formal rundown from her young boss concerning expectations, philosophy and matters of “personal responsibility.” While Darcy instructed her, he skimmed absently through a stack of papers, signing ones occasionally and throwing others away. She watched his movements, amused by his skills with multi-tasking, and bored with a conversation she found patronizing. At last, she couldn't help but interject,

“Do you always do two things at once, Mr. Darcy?”

He looked up, meeting her gaze with his dark, serious eyes. Obviously, this question caught him off guard.

“Excuse me?”

Much to her own bewildered annoyance, Elizabeth felt a blush rise to her cheek.

“Forget it,” she said, waving the comment away with a small smile and a hint of chagrin. She tilted her head to the side, “I'm sure you're so busy in your job, you have to learn to multi-task. I've just never learned how, that's all. And whenever I try, I just end up flubbing both things up completely. I'll try writing a paragraph and talking at the same time, and suddenly I'll find myself writing down half the conversation.” She laughed, continuing, “It's just---watching you talk to me and read at the same time, it reminded me a bit of my father---he does exactly the same thing.”

She'd been babbling---that tended to happen when she was bored. Not only that, she'd half forgotten who it was she'd been speaking to. The analogy that this Mr. Darcy could remind her at all of anyone in her family was both startling and mildly disturbing. She looked boldly across the desk to see his reaction. His mouth was the tightest she'd seen it yet, and his eyes remained darkly serious. Her smile faded, and she shrugged. “Sorry.”

So much for lightening the mood, Elizabeth thought dryly.

He'd continued on with his instructions as if she'd never spoken a word, keeping his voice formal and his expression tight. He then handed her a stack of files with the instructions that they were to be properly translated (she'd bit back a sharp reply to that particular remark) and placed on his desk by the end of the day. It was all done summarily, without so much as a glance in her direction.

Elizabeth looked down at the documents before her--- one printed in English and the other, of her own hand, in Dutch. Next, she'd have to translate it into French. Elizabeth loved language—she loved speaking them, she loved studying them, she loved everything about them---but hours of document translation was just monotonous. The worst part about it was, she couldn't leave for the day until it was done.

Elizabeth sighed, rubbing her eyes and preparing her mind to resume its work. Heaven help her, these next few months looked to be long.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was only after she'd left his office that Fitzwilliam Darcy let himself exhale properly. He dropped his pen, rubbing his temples with shut eyes. He had so many things on his mind right now, both concerning work and his life at home, and yet one thought, unbidden, kept popping into his head.

Elizabeth Bennet.

He'd been forced to keep his expression deathly serious all through his meeting with her, for fear of revealing his true thoughts. It was irrational, he told himself. He hardly knew this woman. It was irrational, he told himself, and best to be ignored completely.

Of course, it hadn't help that from where he'd been sitting, he'd caught the light scent of her perfume---a soft smell of roses and some other scent, indistinguishable but pleasant to his senses. It also hadn't helped that having her right in front of him allowed him to see all the more clearly just how her eyes lit up when she spoke. They were beautiful eyes, conveying kindness, courage and intelligence. That was the worst part of it. It would have been so much easier if she'd turned out to be unpleasant; then he could have dismissed her as attractive but repulsive to be around. She'd proven herself to be exactly the opposite, with a delightfully unaffected manner and a ready laugh.

In short, the whole situation had the possibility of becoming a major problem. But what could he do about it? He couldn't fire her on the basis that he was attracted to her, and besides that, he needed the translation skills she possessed. Still, for Fitzwilliam, such an attraction could prove inconvenient at best and dangerous at worst.

At any rate, the last thing he needed in his life right now was romance—especially if it turned sour. He had enough burdens on his plate, dealing with the Corporation, his father's health, Georgia's pregnancy, keeping his family's name out of the press, and the organizing the case against Wickham, that he could afford thinking or caring about anything or anyone else.

And besides, while Elizabeth was no doubt educated, she was far from his social status. He couldn't afford to date someone who lived in a world so far removed from his own. There were certain expectations for him in life, he'd known it since childhood, and marriage to a woman of the proper upbringing was just one of them. The whole matter just wasn't practical.

At least, that's what he kept trying to tell himself. Now it was just a matter of making his heart believe it.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sitting on the steps of the Kennedy Center, Jane Bennet checked her watch. With her Honda in the auto shop, Lizzy should have arrived to pick her up from the day's practice an hour ago.

It had been a long day---a rigorous warm-up, followed by a long, intensive dress rehearsal. Added to the pressure was the awareness that she was being photographed while dancing. Opening night at the Kennedy Center was just three weeks away---little more than a blink of the eye in the world of performance art. The Theatre had been dissatisfied with their previous press photos, and had wanted to see what Charles Bingley had to offer. If they liked the results of his work today, his would be the photos used in advertisements for the national tour.

Charles Bingley. Even thinking about the handsome young photographer made Jane blush. He'd been kind to her from the first, smiling a bright smile that reached his eyes and caused every word she could think to utter to die in her throat.

Jane stood, shaking her head clear, and carefully stretched her muscles. It was best not to think about him. No doubt she'd never see him again, anyway, so thinking wouldn't do her much good. Jane hesitated, unsure whether or not to call her parents house in an effort to get another ride. Lizzy had probably gotten caught up in work. That was understandable, as today was her first day and no doubt she'd been given plenty to do. Jane looked up at the sky, now dark and foreboding. She felt a drop of water fall on the crown of her head. It was beginning to rain---large, cold drops that could easily turn to hail or snow. Jane shivered, rubbing her hands together.

And paused, blinking in surprise as a silver Porsche pulled up the curb and rolled down its driver-side window.

“Are you waiting for a ride, Miss Bennet?”

Seeing the car's driver, Jane caught her breath.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Charles Bingley had seen her from afar. Willowy and delicate, she managed to look elegant, even in a dark blue sweatshirt and jeans. She sat there as the rain fell, pale, alone and absolutely engulfed by the grand structure around her.

It was like a hammer to his ribcage, seeing her there like that. She's probably waiting for her boyfriend, Charlie thought wistfully. He'd checked earlier for a ring on her slender finger and found none, so he knew she wasn't married. Still, he had trouble believing such a woman could remain unattached for long.

Nonetheless, he had to try. Pulling up to the curb with his Porsche, Charlie rolled down his window.

“Are you waiting for a ride, Miss Bennet?”

Jane Bennet's expression was blank for a moment, seemingly too surprised to formulate an answer. Finally she responded,

“I'm waiting for my sister.” She shivered. “She was supposed to come pick me up. I think she forgot.”

“I'd be happy to offer you a lift,” Charlie said with a good natured smile. He turned off his car, unbuckling his seatbelt to get out.

“Oh,” Jane protested. “You don't have to if it's an inconvenience. Really, I'm…I mean, I'm sure my ride will come, eventually.”

“I'd be happy to drive you where you need to go,” Charlie waved off her protests, taking her exercise bag from her hands. “I might as well return the favor. After all, you showed me where to go this morning.”

Nodding, Jane smiled. He opened the car door for her before jogging back round to the driver's seat and getting in.

“Where are you headed to?” he asked, starting up his car.

“1439 Longbourn Street,” she told him. She couldn't keep from shivering. Seeing that she was still cold, Charlie was quick to turn up the heat in his car. “My parents live in a small neighborhood called Meryton; it's in Hertford County, Maryland---just over the bridge. I'm sure you've probably never heard of it…”

“Well, now I can say I have,” Charlie responded with a wink.

“Yes,” she agreed. “I suppose you can.”

The trip to the Bennet residence (roughly an hour's drive from Washington, D.C.) was pleasant one. In fact, Jane found that once she started truly talking to Charles, she found talking to him the easiest thing in the world.

There was only one awkward moment in the conversation, though it came at the end of their drive.

“So,” Charles had asked as they turned onto Longbourn Street. “Is this where you live? 1439 Longbourn Street?”

“Oh, no.” Jane shook her head. “I just come here in the evenings for dinner. It's a Bennet family tradition---all my siblings within driving distance come to the evening meal. I can only come when I'm dancing in D.C., of course.” She paused before explaining further. “Most of my time, actually, is spent in New York City and dancing at the Met. That's the main location of the American Ballet Theatre. I do have an apartment in Georgetown---right now I'm splitting the rent with my sister, Elizabeth, and another girl named Charlotte Li. Being here for a few weeks, though, and getting to spend time with my parents and siblings---it's a treat for me. This my home. It always will be, I expect.”

She shrugged and bit her lip, painfully aware of Charles' contemplative silence. She'd been fearful that as soon as Charles knew she didn't live in D.C. on a fulltime basis, he'd never want to see her again.

Thinking they were about to be parted forever, both parties couldn't help but wish the trip had taken just a bit longer.

“Thank you, Charles,” Jane ventured as he helped her from his car. “I enjoyed talking with you.”

Charles smiled sadly as he walked her to her front porch. There was an innocence and a purity about Jane that drew him like a moth to a flame. He couldn't risk never seeing her again. Chances are she probably wouldn't be interested in a long distance relationship---though as far as he was concerned, New York City wasn't that far from Washington, D.C. Still, he had to ask. He knew in his heart, he couldn't live with himself and not ask.

“Jane,” he began. “I know you live in New York City, and I know you must travel a lot, your work being what it is. But I was wondering…” he took a breath, “…would you like to have dinner with me tomorrow night? At 6:30, maybe? I know long distance relationships can be complicated, but I'd be willing to try it, if you are.”

At those words, Jane couldn't contain her smile.

“I'd like that, very much, Charles.” she blushed becomingly. “Let me just get you the address of my apartment in Georgetown. That's where I'll be staying for the night.” She reached for the door, only to have it swing open before she could touch the knob.

“Jane!” It was her mother, Fanny Bennet. Jane winced. “There you are! I knew I heard voices out here!” Her gaze shifted to Charles Bingley, lingering there. “Who is this?”

“I'm Charles Bingley, ma'am,” Charles offered her his hand. “It's a pleasure to meet you.”

“Lizzy forgot to pick me up,” Jane explained. “So Charles offered me a ride here in his car, and---”

Hearing her daughters words, Fanny's eyes rested on Charles sporty, silvery Porsche. Her eyes lit up noticeably and her smile broadened. Fanny's eyes examined him critically. Whoever this young man was, it was obvious he was very well off. A doctor perhaps? A successful lawyer? He didn't look like a doctor or a lawyer. Perhaps he was just independently wealthy. At any rate, certainly seemed interested in Jane, and that was what mattered…

“Well,” Fanny responded enthusiastically. “Don't just stand there shivering, you two. Come inside. Charles will just have to join us for dinner.”

“Mother---” Jane interjected. “He might have other plans for tonight.”

“Nonsense,” Fanny cut her off, beaming radiantly in Charlie direction. “Charles will come inside and we'll add another seat to the place setting. Step inside Charles.”

Fanny Bennet was not to be argued with. Being an observant young man---and eager for a chance to meet this enchanting woman's family---Charlie did as told. Once he was inside, Fanny nodded approvingly to Jane.

For all her faults and foibles, Fanny Bennet wasn't blind. Unbeknownst to her daughter, she'd been watching the young couple talk in front of the porch for the last ten minutes. The expression on the young man's face when he'd spoken to her eldest daughter, he looked half in love with her already.

“Set your sites on him, Jane. He's just right,” Fanny whispered to her daughter, grabbing her arm.

Though she looked calm enough stepping inside the warmly lit house, Jane Bennet felt like she was walking on air.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Jane?” Elizabeth opened the door to her parents' house, barely avoiding careening into her younger brother, Nick. Once she'd realized she was an hour late picking up her sister, Elizabeth had rushed through the last of her work, dropped it off at Mr. Darcy's office without so much as a word, and dashed to her car. She'd driven by the Kennedy Center, but Jane was nowhere in sight. Hopefully, her sister had managed to find a ride already.

Closing the front door, Lizzy turned to see Lynnia Bennet bounding down the steps. Anya, the youngest Bennet child, was in her arms.

“Lynnia,” she stopped her sister. “Have you seen Jane?”

“I sure have,” Lynnia responded with a broad grin. Lynnia motioned Elizabeth closer, whispering conspiratorially. “Jane brought home a hunk home with her for dinner.” She said this statement as if announcing that Jane had brought with her a puppy, or a roast lamb for the general enjoyment of the family.

“What's a hunk?” Anya blurted out, looking from one sister to the next, reaching her small, chubby hands toward the ground. Lynnia smirked. Elizabeth couldn't help but laugh.

“Sounds intriguing,” she said with a smile.

“It is,” Lynnia nodded, her eyes alight. Of all the Bennets, Lynnia seemed to have gotten a large flare for the dramatic. “His name is Charles Bingley and he's loaded, by the sound of it. Mom's been grilling him since he arrived. He hasn't managed a word in edgewise to Jane.”

“If he's lasted with mom this long, he must be the absolute height of patience and fortitude,” Elizabeth commented, shrugging off her coat.

“Yeah, well--did you catch sight of the Porsche? It's parked out front. It belongs to him. He's not a snob though, really Lizzy—I'd never guess how rich he was talking with him. He can't be any older than Pete, he's tall, blond hair, blue eyes—he's really very studly, Lizzy---and he works as a freelance photographer.” Lynnia smiled. “Plus, he likes our Jane, which shows loads of good sense on his part.”

Elizabeth shook her head. “If he's that wonderful, it's amazing mom's not calling the caterers and starting Jane a bridal registry.”

“Tell me about it.”

The two sisters proceeded into the dining room. Dinner was already being set out on the table, and her siblings were being their usual, raucous selves. She gave Bingley full marks if he could manage to around so many Bennet children and still hold his own. Of course, some of her siblings where missing tonight.

Kitty wasn't there---up in bed asleep, no doubt. Her medication caused her to sleep and eat at odd times. Andy and Pete were both working that evening. And Sean was still in Mexico, of course. Still, all the others had assembled. Their father, sitting at the head of the table, was purposefully ignoring the goings-on around him, happily occupied in reading the Washington Post.

When Charles Bingley saw Elizabeth enter the room he stood, shaking her hand with a warm smile. Elizabeth took a seat between Nick Bennet and little Anya, tweaking Nick's ear as she sat down.

“Hey, kiddo,” she greeted her brother.

“I'm hungry,” was Nick's only greeting to her. He glanced across the table at Charles, rolled his eyes and looked back to Lizzy. When the boy spoke, it was in a low, soft tone.

“Mom, Jane, Lynnia—even Mary---they've all been drooling over him since he arrived.” Nick scoffed. “And I want to eat. Are you going to drool over him too?” he demanded.

“Would you prefer us to drool over you, Master Bennet?”

This comment produced a look of pure disdain to grace her little brother's face. It was only sheer force of will that kept her from laughing. Instead, she chose to turn her attention to Charles and her sister, Jane.

Mary had positioned herself between Jane and her handsome young man. Lynnia was right, he was good looking---though traditionally Elizabeth's tastes ran more towards dark haired men than the blond haired-blue eyed all-American boys. Examining Charles features, a thought unbidden drifted into Lizzy mind. Elizabeth knew that though Charles was handsome, her new boss, Mr. Darcy, could put even this man's good looks to shame.

Chasing the thought from her mind, Lizzy turned her attention to the conversation between Mary and Charles. They looked to be in deep discussion, though more than a few times Lizzy saw his gaze shift discretely over to Jane before turning back to Mary---who, by the look of it, was talking on and on and on.

“Netherfield Manor,” Mary was saying, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose. “Yes, I know exactly where that is. It's in Virginia, about a twenty minute drive from Saint Vincent's Church. Our brother, Pete—he couldn't be here tonight---is the new priest at Saint Vincent's…Has your family lived at Netherfield all your life?” Charles nodded. “Oh, I imagine you must have a marvelous library!”

“My father could tell you more about that than I could, actually. We have few by most standards, I think, but far more than I ever bother to read.” Charles shrugged good-naturedly and looked a bit chagrined. “When your family comes to visit---and they must---then I give you free reign of its contents, Miss Mary Bennet.” Picking up his glace, he gave Mary a wink, before shifting his gaze to Jane. Raising his glass as if in salute, he drank.

Lizzy couldn't help but grin. Charles Bingley was absolutely charming---in the best sense of the word. It looked as though he had managed to charm even Mary, who wasn't particularly impressed by anyone. She liked Charles Bingley very much, she decided then and there, and if he and Jane were to start dating, Elizabeth hoped fervently that it worked out between them.

Everyone was fairly well behaved during dinner given the number of Bennet children in attendance for the evening (seven), and the fact that Fanny Bennet was practically treating Charles like a confirmed future son-in-law.

When it was time for the non-residents of the household to depart, Elizabeth motioned her sister over to her.

“Go walk with him out to his car,” she said to Jane. “And feel free to take your time. I'm going to go check up on Kitty, anyway, so I'll meet you at my car in twenty minutes.”

With that, Elizabeth slipped upstairs, knocking on the door before entering Katherine's Bennet's room.

“Kitty?” she poked her head in. The lights were off but the shades were open; the moonlight gave the room an odd, ethereal glow. She shivered, not knowing why, exactly. “Kitty, honey?”

She saw her sister push down her covers and sit up, rubbing her eyes a bit. Lizzy knew she ought to feel better now that the operation to remove Kitty's brain tumor was over, but a sense of apprehension lingered in her gut. The fourteen-year-old looked so small and frail. Her lack of hair made her eyes so big, and her face still looked so drawn.

“Lizzy?” the girl blinked. “Is dinner over already?”

“I'm afraid so.” Elizabeth responded with a soft smile. She walked over towards the girl, perching herself on the edge of the bed, right next to her sister. “Feeling tired today, Kitten?”

Kitty nodded.

“It's the meds, the doctor told me,” Kitty leaned her small frame against her sister's and gave a small sigh. “I can't wait till I'm officially in remission. The initial post-surgery MRI looked good, he said—did mom tell you that?”

Lizzy nodded. Now it's just a matter of keeping it that way. Fanny had called all her children with news of the MRI results. They knew to remain cautious, though---Kitty's form of cancer was a malignant, invasive one. Just because the cancer was gone didn't mean it would stay gone. All they could do was hope and pray for the best.

Everything would be all right in the end, Lizzy told herself conclusively. It had to be all right. With silent reminder to light a votive candle for her sister next time she went to mass, she turned her attention back to Kitty, who been talking for quite a few minutes now.

“---it's just I get so bored here during the day. Mrs. Langley--” Mrs. Langley was Kitty's tutor. She'd begun teaching Kitty at home ever since her illness first developed. “---she's making me learn geometry, and I hate it.” Elizabeth laughed softly at that. She'd never liked it much, either. Kitty yawned before continuing, her tone wistful. “And Annie called this morning. She said people are already talking about who's taking who to the Winter Ball---freshmen are allowed to go, you know.”

Elizabeth nodded; that bit of information she knew from past experience. Elizabeth's first official date ever had been to the Winter Ball. It had been her freshman year in high school and Franklin Tutalla had asked her out, showing up on her doorstep unexpectedly one week before the Ball. She remembered wanting to go so badly. She'd been too shy to ask any of the boys she knew, of course. When she'd opened the door to see Frank standing there---oh, it had been absolute magic.

She smiled, recalling the memory with more than a hint of nostalgia. It looked as though there would be no such “Frank Tutalla” to knock on the door and ask Kitty Bennet to the Winter Ball. She felt a sudden pang in her heart, and her grip tightened reflexively on her sister's shoulder. Elizabeth couldn't help but hope that such a young man would magically show up on the doorstep for her little sister.

Elizabeth opened her mouth, prepared to think of something encouraging to tell her sister about boys and dating. She was saved the effort though; Kitty's eyes were closed, her breathing soft and rhythmic. She'd fallen asleep again. Elizabeth pulled the covers up to Kitty's chin and kissed her sister softly on the forehead before quietly exiting the room.

Lizzy went quickly downstairs, said goodbye to her parents (making sure to tell her mother that Kitty had fallen asleep once more), and stepped outside, only to be hit in the face with a blast of bitterly cold air

It looked as though Charles and Jane had just parted. Jane had a far off look on her face as she stood next to Lizzy's car. Both girls were shivering.

“Quick, Janie, get in,” Lizzy gestured to her sister. “It's too cold to be out here long.”

She was quick to turn on her car, adjusting the heat setting as high as it would go. It didn't seem to help much, though, during the drive to their Georgetown apartment.

For Elizabeth, at least, it wasn't the winter weather that had left such a chill in her bones.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When Fitzwilliam Micah Darcy drove into Pemberley Estate, he felt as though the weight of the world rested upon his shoulders. He'd been stuck in the office until 10:00 PM, making faxes and phone calls, reviewing reports and preparing for the board meeting that he was scheduled to attend the very next morning. Though only twenty-seven years old, he felt ancient.

< out go to need>is what his friend Charles Bingley would tell him. He hadn't talked to Charles in weeks. Truthfully, he'd too busy with work to give much thought to anyone or anything else.

Unbuckling his seatbelt, Will got out of his car and tentatively stretching his legs. It had been a long day and he was happy it was nearly over.

“Good evening, sir. Busy day at work?”

“You could say that,” Will gave a nod and a weary smile to George, the estate's valet, as he approached. He tossed the boy his keys and waved before entering Pemberley House proper.

The entire house was silent. All of the cleaning staff had long since gone home, and that was just as well as far as Will was concerned. He was looking forward to a little peace and quiet. Hearing his stomach growl, he shrugged off his coat, tossed it on the nearest couch in the reception room, and headed for the kitchen.

His sister, Georgia, was sitting in a stool next to one of the long, black marble counters, waiting for him.

It's about time you came back, she signed to him. Georgia was born completely deaf and thus the preferred method of communication between the two siblings was often sign language. Resting one hand on her swelling abdomen, she frowned at him. You look exhausted. Have you eaten today?

Will grimaced.

Does a cup of coffee and a bagel count? he signed back to her.

No. Cook left you dinner in the fridge. Eat it, was her conclusive answer. She shook her head firmly. I don't like this, Will. You're going to make yourself sick if you don't take better care of yourself. And then we'll have three people taking trips to the doctor---you, me and father.”

"Great." He spoke his sarcastic reply. He reached into the refrigerator in search of his dinner. He peeled back the foil. Turkey and mashed potatoes. Putting the plate in the microwave, he turned back to his sister so she could read his lips. "It can be a Darcy family bonding experience."

I'm serious Will! she signed to him firmly. You'll end up just like dad if you keep this up---two heart attacks by age sixty.

Will took his dinner out of the microwave, poured himself a tall glass of wine and sat down next to his sister, taking a bite of his food. As his hands were occupied with eating, he spoke to her instead of signing. Georgia had long ago learned out to read lips.

“Gee, what a cheery thought,” was his response to her. “Is this your maternal instinct emerging? I pity that child if this is your idea of encouragement.

Georgia stuck her tongue out at him, though secretly she was relieved to hear him tease her. As long as his spirits were well enough to tease, he couldn't be doing all that badly.

Father's appointment with the doctor seemed to go well. He's upstairs asleep already. And Rabbi Firestone stopped by this morning, she told him. I said we'd be at Temple this next Sabbath.

Will took a long sip of his wine and grimaced.

“What if I'm working?”

Georgia frowned.

Not on Sabbath, you won't be, she admonished him. It must be the hormones---she'd been acting uncharacteristically confrontational since she'd gotten pregnant.

“Dad worked on Sabbath, and that never bothered you,” he countered.

Dad isn't Jewish! was her sharp response.

A true enough statement, but surprising nonetheless. The Darcy children were Jewish, but the never truly practiced their faith actively. Their father was Christian, though he didn't practice either. He'd allowed their mother, an Israeli citizen, to raise them in the Judaic faith. Since her death ten years ago, Will and Georgia only went to Temple on rare occasions.

“Since when did you get so devout?” he asked her dryly. Georgia just shrugged.

Mother would have wanted us to go, was her only response. I don't know, Will---ever since I became pregnant, I've been thinking about her more and more, that's all---thinking about what she would have wanted of us.

Watching his sister, Will couldn't help but fleetingly wonder if Georgia had any idea how much she resembled their mother in looks. She had that same unaffected beauty and grace, that same sweetness and strength. Standing, he kissed her lightly on the cheek before setting his dishes in the sink.

She would have been proud, Georgia. he assured her. It was an important thing to communicate to her, so he signed it instead of speaking. I know it. I'm your brother, trust me. Will paused. "And as for going with you to Temple---I'll try to make it fit in my schedule, how's that?"

Georgia nodded.

You'll make it fit, she replied firmly. Will grinned.

“Yes, Aunt Catherine,” he said with a bow. Georgia's eyes widened, knowing his comment for the teasing insult it was; their aunt was an insufferable dictator of a woman.

Fitzwilliam Micah Darcy, if you weren't so exhausted---

“And if you weren't so pregnant---” he grinned wickedly.

Georgia giggled---an odd sound coming from a deaf woman, but a definite giggle, nonetheless.

“Go to sleep, Georgi.” he ordered her kindly, pushing her in the direction of her room. Thus instructed---she was so used to deferring to his instructions for so many years, besides which, she truly was tired---Georgia did as told and went to bed.

It took Will far longer to fall asleep. Thoughts kept surfacing in his mind. Thoughts of his sister. Thoughts of his father. Thoughts of his late mother.

Along with these three, another person surfaced in his mind, unbidden and unexpected.

Elizabeth Bennet.

Rolling over in his large bed and feeling suddenly very alone, Fitzwilliam Darcy shut his eyes. He had a sinking feeling that, for all his exhaustion, he'd be getting precious little in the way of sleep tonight.

Chapter 4: Sparks and Embers

“So he took her to dinner?” Charlotte Li asked Lizzy as they stepped from the 9th floor elevator of Darcy Industries. “And then what? Dancing?”

Lizzy shook her head.

“Nothing so cliché, Char. He's an artist; he wanted to be creative, I'm sure. He took her on a long walk across the grassy Mall and then up to the Lincoln Memorial.” Elizabeth dug into her purse, searching for the keys to her office. She and Charlotte had just come back from lunch.

“The Lincoln Memorial?” Charlotte interrupted. She'd been grilling Lizzy on the details of Jane's late night date with Charles Bingley. Charlotte Li had known Lizzy since freshman year of college, and was now splitting the rent to an apartment in Georgetown with the two eldest Bennet sisters (despite the fact that Jane spent most of her time in New York, she insisted on having a home in D.C.). Listening to the details of Jane's date, Charlotte just shook her head. “Well, that's certainly…patriotic…”

“You'll think it's romantic enough when you hear what he brought with him.”

“What?”

“Two plastic wine glasses and a thermos full of hot chocolate,” Elizabeth said with a grin.

“What'd Jane think?”

“Oh, she said it was very romantic; they sat outside under the stars till one o'clock, drank hot chocolate and talked,” Lizzy informed her friend. “She woke me up the very instant she got in the door---one-thirty this morning---to tell me about it."

They'd just passed the secretary's desk, and Lizzy was about to open the door to her office when a voice interrupted them.

“Miss Elizabeth?” Elizabeth turned to see Mrs. Reynolds gesturing to her. “A delivery boy dropped something off for you while you were at lunch. I didn't want anything to happen to it while you were out so I let him in your office. The door should be unlocked.”

“Oh---okay. Thank you for letting me know, Mrs. Reynolds,” Elizabeth said with a nod, more than a little confused. She hadn't been expecting any deliveries today. An early Christmas gift, perhaps? She turned back to Char, continuing their conversation.

"Anyway, I think she's really crazy about him, Char.”

“Oh, you can never tell with her---she's so shy. And sitting outside in December? Sounds like they'd be awfully cold to me,” Charlotte said, shaking her head. “I don't know…I guess I've just never been one for romantic gestures. I just want a husband who's stable and reliable. I've never set my hopes on meeting a Clark Gable or a Pierce Brosnan. A young Bob Hope would do just fine for my standards,” Charlotte admitted, her voice both pragmatic and a tinge wistful. “Besides, I doubt I'll ever inspire a man to the heights of romantic grandeur---not like you or Jane.”

Elizabeth waved Charlotte's comment off with a lighthearted laugh and motioned her inside the office.

“Jane's the goddess here, not me, Char,” Elizabeth corrected her with a wink. Opening the door, she reached for the lights. “I think you overestimate my abilities if you think I can---” Lizzy turned to drop her purse on her desk.

Any further words died in her throat. Lizzy could only stare blankly, unsure whether to laugh or cry out in horror.

A large, pink and red monstrosity had taken residency on her desk. It was an enormous bouquet of carnations, shaped in the form of a heart. Flanking the heart-shaped bouquet were two teddy bears, one red and the other white. One bear had the word `love' stitched across its' chest, the other bore the word `devotion' in bright pink letters.

It was absolutely hideous.

“You were saying?” Charlotte stood next to her, her hands on her hips and her mouth quirking up in amusement. “I don't know, Lizzy, this looks like the height of romance and grandeur to some men…” Charlotte paused, picking up one of the bears before continuing. “Four weeks working here and someone's already sending you flowers. It's rather tacky, don't you think?”

Lizzy, though, wasn't listening. Instead, she was digging through the carnations with her deft fingers, searching intently for a card or a note, anything that would clue her in to the flower's sender. At last, she found it. It was a small, white envelope with the word Lizzy scrawled across it in small, cramped writing. Lizzy tore the envelope open, her eyes scanning the message within. When she saw who had signed the card, she could only think of one thing to say.

“Oh, dear God.”

“What?” Charlotte craned to see. “Who is it? Who sent it?”

“Bill Collins.” Elizabeth said blankly.

“Why would Bill Collins send you something so…so..,” Charlotte paused, searching for a proper word. “Well, let's admit it, it's just plain hideous.”

“Because he's in love with me,” Elizabeth tossed the card careless on her desk. At that comment, Charlotte could only blink in surprise.

“Sorry to ask the obvious here,” Charlotte began, her eyebrows raised, “but why would he be in love with you?”

“How should I know?” Lizzy shrugged her shoulders, turning her back towards the door. “He has been since high school. Oh, Char, you don't understand, my mother and his mother have been trying to set us up for ages now---”

“Lizzy---”

“And I've tried being nice to him; I've tried saying `no' politely; I've even tried saying no impolitely and he just never seems to get the hint---”

“Lizzy, you might want to---” Char interrupted her with an urgent hiss.

“He'll never get it through his thick skull that I'm not interested unless I'm just really blunt---” Elizabeth kept talking, barely aware that Charlotte was even still in the room. Bill Collins tagging around her forlornly was not what she needed. “I'm just going to have to tell him, `Bill, I—”

“Lizzy!” At this point, Charlotte was very nearly shouting. Elizabeth stopped mid-sentence, at last paying attention to what her friend was doing. Charlotte motioned, very subtly, for Lizzy to turn around.

Why didn't I think to close the door?. With a sinking feeling that she knew exactly who stood behind her, Elizabeth turned---

----only to be face to face with not, Billy Collins, but her boss, Mr. F.M. Darcy.

His pose would have seemed casual, but for his brooding stillness. He stood there, one hand leaning against the Colonial-style doorframe, his firmly fixed on the flowery monstrosity now adorning Lizzy's desk. And he was frowning.

His gaze drifted over to her just for an instant; that brief instant Elizabeth could swear she saw a flicker of something---a single ember that lit up his eyes. It was so brief that she might of missed it entirely if not for pure luck. She wondered at the source of that fire. Anger? Maybe. Annoyance? Almost definitely, judging from the firm set of his jaw.

If he's trying to intimidate me, he's going to get more of a fight than he bargained for. Elizabeth thought stubbornly to herself.

“You seem downright entranced, Mr. Darcy,” She stated boldly, shading her voice with amusement. “What's caught your interest? Was it the scintillating conversation, the lovely flower arrangement on my desk here, or are you just standing there for curiosity's sake?”

Summoning all her courage, Elizabeth merely smiled at him, lifting her chin in defiance and knowing full well that, for better or for worse (she suspected, worse), she now held his gaze lock, stock, and barrel.

“Seeing as I am acting C.E.O. of Darcy Industries,” he began his response in a low, curt tone, “And the fact that this office building--- in fact this very doorframe---belongs to the Darcy family, I believe I have the right to oversee what goes on in my office. Would you care to contradict me, Miss Bennet?”

He stopped there, his tone as dark and weighty as a leaden blanket. Had Elizabeth not been made of stronger stuff, she would have cowered at that look. Instead, it only fed the flames of her defiant spirit.

“No, not at all. I just wanted a bit of clarification, that's all.” She gave him an overly sweet smile, leaned up against her desk and tilted her head to the side. With an even gaze and her lips pursed, she was barely aware of the single auburn lock that fell across her pale cheek as she continued speaking. “If you want to stand in my doorway and listen to my conversations, than I suppose that's your prerogative as my employer. Now I know.”

Elizabeth could practically sense Charlotte's jaw dropping as the conversation progressed.

“Indeed,” Darcy cut in curtly. “When two of my employees are having a non-work related conversation during office hours, that is my right.” There it was again, that spark---just as quick to surface in his eyes, and just as quickly suppressed. “Now you know.”

Hearing him throw that phrase back at her, she frowned. Before she could think of a good response, though, he gave both women a brisk nod, and turned, shutting the door behind him as he left.

Elizabeth Bennet took a deep breath. He'd gotten the last word in that conversation, and she found that more than mildly annoying. Still, she had to give him his due for wit. There weren't many people who could match her in a conversation.

“What in the world did you do to him!” she demanded with hiss. Her brown eyes were wide. Having watched the whole scene with dumbfounded astonishment, she couldn't contain herself once the door was shut.

“What?” Lizzy looked over to her friend, at last allowing a mischievous smile to grace her pretty face.

“I've never---ever---seen him act like that with anyone,” Charlotte shook her head decisively. “F.M. Darcy, he's always polite, or he's extremely serious or he's nothing much at all, but he's never anything like that!”

“Like what?” Elizabeth inquired innocently, snapping off a pink carnation from Collin's bouquet and twirling it playfully in her fingers.

“Come off it, Lizzy; `Stupid' was never a role you played well. You know exactly what I'm talking about,” Charlotte said, shaking her head emphatically. “His eyes when you two were arguing---did you see his eyes? ”

“I wasn't looking, thank you,” Elizabeth lied. “And it doesn't matter, anyway. He's gone now, happily; it's time we both went back to doing some real work. Honestly, Char, I really don't want to get either of us fired ---”

Charlotte snorted.

“You could have fooled me…before I go, though, Lizzy---what are you going to do about Bill Collins?”

“I don't want to think about it,” Elizabeth insisted firmly. “Now, go so I can get some work done…”

“All right, all right,” was Charlotte's dry response. She picked up her purse and headed towards the door. “Goodbye for now. Thank heavens we've got a few days off with the Christmas holiday.” She turned back to Lizzy before leaving, her dark eyes suddenly serious. “Honestly, Lizzy, be more careful from now on. His tone…I've never him speak to anyone like that---pure ice.”

Elizabeth had thought it best not to respond to that comment. Darcy's tone had been ice, yes, but his eyes---that was what really stuck with her---those brief, brilliant sparks of emotion. Elizabeth couldn't venture to guess the what or the why of the matter, nor did she particularly want to dwell on the issue. All she knew was that in those brief moments when she'd managed to catch Darcy unguarded, his eyes had contained what looked to her like sparks of bright, shining fire.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Fitzwilliam Darcy shut the door to Elizabeth Bennet's office, his hand lingering on the doorknob in an effort to steady himself. Standing there in her doorway, he'd felt stupid and obvious and completely unsubtle. From what he knew of her, it was no wonder she'd snapped at him. He shut his eyes for just a split second before letting the handle go and made his way to his office. Shutting the door firmly behind him (and happy for the solitude), Will sat down wearily in the chair behind his father's (now his, he told himself firmly, his) large mahogany desk. He turned on his computer, intent on getting some work done.

You seem downright entranced, Mr. Darcy. Elizabeth's words kept echoing his mind. Will tapped his fingers on the keyboard, staring blankly at the screen. She'd hit far too close to the mark for his comfort. He'd seen the flowers on her desk, heard her talking about the sender, and found himself unable to turn away. He couldn't help but wonder if she had any idea how beautiful she'd looked to him back there in her office, leaning against her desk. She'd been wearing a forest-green suit; the color was striking in contrast to the pallor of her skin, and the dark auburn of her hair.

Fitzwilliam took a long sip of his coffee, trying to will away the image that was being conjured in his mind.

The problem was this attraction was proving more than superficial for him. In a situation when any other employee would have backed down, she challenged him. Where every other woman's gaze was something akin to adoration, hers was critical. She was intelligent, yes, and certainly beautiful, but what really drew him—what had drawn him from their very first meeting---was her spirit, a breathless, fiery energy that threatened to leave him completely entranced and melt every one of his carefully constructed defenses.

Within the past four weeks their interactions had been strictly business, mainly just awkward and icy conversations (he purposefully kept his tone even and cool in his dealings with her; he couldn't afford to let emotion creep into his voice and complicate things further). Elizabeth Bennet was highly intelligent and more than qualified to handle the tasks he'd assigned to her. The whole of the 9th floor staff absolutely loved her---in particular, Mrs. Reynolds, his secretary. And she, in turn, was kind to everyone (everyone but him, that is---not that he blamed her, given his behavior so far); she'd even baked chocolate-chip cookies the day before and brought them to the office kitchen, insisting that everyone try some. Realistically speaking, Will felt as though he barely knew her, and yet what little he did know made him desperate to know more.

In short, for Fitzwilliam Darcy, she was very, very dangerous.

Will felt his jaw clench. Try as he might, he couldn't seem to unclench it, either. Thinking about her made him want to do things he just couldn't afford to do. Any contact with her from now on would have to be in the company of others, he decided; they would help him keep a firm check on his defenses.

Not that that did much good today, Will thought ruefully. One of his employees, Charlotte Li, had witnessed the whole exchange between them. Elizabeth stirred a spark within him that Will feared could easily spread to a forest fire. Staring at his computer, Will very abruptly shut it off. He was suddenly feeling in desperate need for some cold, fresh air.

“Mr. Darcy?” There was a knock and Mrs. Reynold peaked in past the door to his office. Will blinked, sitting up straight in his chair.

“I'm sorry to interrupt sir---”

“It's fine, Margaret,” Will motioned her in with a tired smile and rubbing his eyes. “What can I do for you?”

“Two things, sir. First off, I wanted to wish you a Happy Chanukah, sir, and to Miss Georgia, too. Tell your father I said hello and I hope he's doing better. Oh, and thank you for the bonus in my salary, sir; it was very generous of you.”

“I looked over my father's payroll figures for these past few quarters; you deserve a larger salary,” Will admitted, nodding. “I promise from now on, Margaret, you'll get it. Tell your husband I said Merry Christmas.”

Mrs. Reynolds nodded, smiling softly before continuing,

“You do your parents credit, sir. You're a good man and you make a lot of people happy. You've certainly made Mr. Reynolds and I very happy,” she paused. “I've just been waiting for the day when the right young lady will be there to make you happy.”

Though Fitzwilliam Darcy had remained unflinching before far more powerful men in his business career, he suddenly felt an urge to squirm under Mrs. Reynold's probing gaze. What had gotten into him today? Eager to have a change of subject, Will asked her casually,

“What was the second thing you wanted to say, Margaret?”

“Just that your last appointment for the day is here to see you, sir. It's a lawyer, a Mr. George Wickham.”

Hearing that, Will stood, getting up from his desk. George Wickham was the older brother of Gregory Wickham; Gregory was Georgia's ex-boyfriend, father to her unborn child. Fiztwilliam knew that George would be acting as Greg's attorney for the upcoming case. Hearing that he was hear now, Will couldn't help but frown; he could stand George Wickham only marginally more than he could stand Gregory Wickham, and that was saying next to nothing at all. Merely thinking about the situation and Gregory's treatment of Georgia was enough to make Will see red. He knew that given a baseball bat and Gregory Wickham in front of him, Greg would be smart to fear for his life.

“Where is George Wickham right now, Mrs. Reynolds?” Will asked.

“He's in the 9th floor lobby, sir. I told him to wait there.”

Will nodded, following her out of his office. As he walked into the lobby, a sound reached Will's ears. It was a delightful sound---a soft peal of a young woman's laughter; he knew the owner of that laugh the instant he heard it.

Elizabeth Bennet. She was standing there in his lobby, searching for a document in one of the file cabinets near Mrs. Reynold's desk.

Standing next to her (and grinning at her winningly all the while) was George Wickham.

Chapter 5: Home for the Holidays

“Lynnia, Kitty, Mary, Anya---get down here!” Fanny Bennet called to her four youngest daughters, watching them process one-by-one down the steps.

“Yeah,” Elizabeth said with a nod. “Jane can't wait in the car forever. It's cold outside and the engine's running on my poor car.”

“Do you have what you need for the night?” Fanny asked her girls. “And your clothes for morning Mass tomorrow? Kitty, do you have your meds? Lizzy, you and Jane make sure she gets those---”

“We will, mom.” Elizabeth assured her mother.

“And make sure Anya gets to bed by 8:30. And Mary---no reading by the light of your flashlight; it'll ruin your eyes you know.”

Mary rolled her eyes.

“Mother, I already wear glasses. I don't see what the point is in---”

“We're getting you contacts young lady,” Fanny Bennet insisted firmly. “Once your eye prescription stops changing, that's the first thing we'll do. Honestly, Mary, no boys are ever going to ask you out if you hiding behind those glasses…”

Lynnia—who stood right behind Mary---valiantly trying repress a loud snicker. Well, Lizzy thought dryly, at least she tried.

“Mother!” Mary protested, her cheeks turning rose-pink.

“All right, mom,” Elizabeth interjected quickly, shouldering Anya's bag and taking the little girl by the hand. “We're out of here.”

Fanny Bennet kissed her girls goodbye.

“Okay, then. Your father and I will see you all tomorrow. Mary---do you have your inhaler?”

“Yes!”

“And don't drive too fast on the way to your aunt's house now, Lizzy!”

“I won't. Scout's honor,” she assured her mother, her tone solemn, though she winked when she said it. “Goodbye, mom.”

“And call me when you get to Pennsylvania!” Their aunt's cottage was in the valleys of Cheapside County, Pennsylvania.

“We will,” Elizabeth insisted, putting on her coat and kissing her father goodbye.

“Goodbye, Ellie. Merry Christmas, sweetheart.”

“Goodbye, Daddy,” she said to her father, her tone especially fond. She'd always felt closest to her father. Her father smiled back, tweaking Lizzy's ear. “Bye, mom.”

“Oh, and Lizzy, did you ever get in contact with Billy Collins? I thought over the Christmas holiday, you two could arrange to---”

“Goodbye, mother.” Lizzy repeated firmly and for the last time. Directing her sisters out, the girls were out the door and off to their great-aunt Gardenia's house.

For as long as Lizzy could remember it was a family tradition for all the Bennet girls to go visit their great aunt Gardenia on Christmas Eve; the plan was set in stone: the girls arrived, decorated Gardie's tree, ate plenty of sweets and cookies, and were otherwise praised and spoiled rotten by their lovely and extravagant Great-Aunt.

Aunt Gardenia was a widow long since Lizzy was born, and the elderly woman enjoyed having company over the holidays when Jane and Lizzy were little girls. It was fun for them as well, making the yearly trek to their aunt's country house and spending the whole night getting spoiled and talking about all manner of subjects (mainly, the subject ended up being boys, though). Gardie always gave the girls plenty of cookies, the chance to play with auntie's makeup and jewelry (of which the elderly woman had boatloads), and even try a little champagne. Great Aunt Gardenia's house was a place of fun, a place where the otherwise forbidden was possible, and (best of all) a place in which the girls were spoiled rotten.

The tradition had continued through the years, altering slightly as the girls grew older and the number of Bennets expanded, but remaining present all the same.

The plan for this year was as follows: the Bennet girls would spend Christmas Eve decorating and keeping Gardie company; the young Bennet men would spend the night doing fun and “manly” activities at Andrew's houseboat. Best of all, Fanny and Harold got to spend their Christmas Eve in a quiet house (a true rarity), with only themselves and a bottle of very fine French champagne for company.

Elizabeth would drive her sisters back in the morning, and the whole family would regroup at the Christmas service at church, after which they'd head back home, open presents and eat the Christmas dinner together. That was the plan, and it seemed to work fairly well, all things considered.

The drive up to Pennsylvania wasn't a bad one, mainly due to the fact that most of the people in the car were asleep. When Elizabeth finally entered their great-aunt Gardenia's house (it was roughly a two hour drive), the girls found the scent of baked cookies already lingering in the air.

“Aunt Gardie?” Jane called out, opening the front door. “We're here!”

Gardenia came walking out of the kitchen, her hands covered in flower and her eyes twinkling with obvious delight.

“Hello, my pretty Dove,” the elderly woman said with a smile, holding her arms wide. “Still gorgeous as ever, I see. Come here and give your Aunt Gardie a hug. I hear you've got a boyfriend now? Your mother was all aquiver to tell me everything about him…let's see she said he's an artist—a photographer---oh, and rich. I do believe that was the extent of her checklist,” Gardie commented dryly. “Money and occupation.”

“Oh, and he's darn cute,” Lynnia piped up.

“Well, that is a definite plus, Firebug,” Gardie agreed, calling the girl by a life-long endearment coined by Gardenia. She'd long ago started calling each of the Bennet children by a different “pet name.” Gardenia smiled at Lynnia, giving the girl a kiss on the forehead as she entered. Gardie always seemed to take well to Lynnia's passionate, dramatic flare. Whatever Lynnia did---be it loving or hating---it was done with her whole heart, Gardenia knew that. She herself had been much the same, at that age. “You're looking as bright and cheerful as ever, Firebug. I see it's not five minutes you've been here, and we're already down to `boy-talk. Well, we might as well get down to the nitty-gritty important stuff, eh?”

Lynnia grinned broadly.

“It's all about priorities, Gardie.”

“It is indeed, Firebug.” She bent down to pick up Anya. “Why, hello Birdie---oh, my, you're getting big. These old bones can't handle you much longer, little one.” She groaned ever so slightly while holding the child before putting her down and turning her attention to Mary and Kitty. “Owl, dearest---I've found a new book you might like, it's sitting in my study.” Gardie rested her wrinkled hand particularly fondly on Katherine's smooth, pale cheek. “Hello, my sweet Angel. You just go sit down on the sofa and I'll bring you some hot chocolate with whipped cream.” At last her gaze fell on Elizabeth, the last to enter the house.

“Ah,” she appraised her niece sagely. “There's my Lizzy, my Bright Eyes. Come back from Europe, and oh-so sophisticated. Don't you look grown up…”

“Hello, Aunt Gardie,” Elizabeth smiled fondly, linking arms with her aunt. “It comes from dating all those European men,” she joked, walking with her aunt into the kitchen. Gardenia just winked merrily.

The night was a long one for Lizzy---she was tired from trying and confusing day at work---but still vastly enjoyable. The sisters decorated Gardenia's Christmas tree with twinkling colored lights and ornaments, indulged themselves in cookies and ice-cream, gave one another makeovers, and listened as Gardie regaled them with scandalous tales of her escapades in romance and courtship with their late-great uncle Alvin. They'd had many a grand adventure, Gardie and Alvin, and had loved each other with a passion that stood the test of time. To hear Gardie talk, Elizabeth thought a tad wistfully, She makes the whole idea of love sound so…magical.

It was a lovely evening, and Lizzy enjoyed every moment of it. Despite the fact that she and Jane were stuck sleeping on the living-room floor by the end of the night (Gardie's cottage only had five bedrooms, including the one for herself).

Elizabeth spread her sleeping back near Gardie's fireplace, feeling the warmth of the lingering embers. The girls had brought firewood in and started a fire in the fireplace earlier in the night. She plumped her pillow, looking over to her sister, who was doing the same. Jane smiled. Elizabeth just laughed, watching her sister, and shook her head.

“What?” Jane asked, unthreading her silky blond hair from her braid and tossing her hair casually behind her back. “What's funny?”

Elizabeth tugged a sweatshirt over her pajamas, shivering slightly before answering. It was good they had the fireplace. This room tended to get awfully cold in the winter.

“It's a few things,” Lizzy admitted. “One thing I'm laughing at is the fact that I suddenly feel like a ten year old again, sleeping on the floor of Aunt Gardie's cottage. Another is the realization that you, dear sister, can still manage to look beautiful at 2:00 AM, even wearing gray sweats and an oversized sweater. Honestly, Janie, if I weren't your sister, I swear I'd feel like strangling you sometimes.”

Jane laughed; like everything about Jane, it was a sweet, gentle sound.

“Oh, Lizzy, I don't think you know how pretty you really are,” Jane said, shaking her head. “Besides, didn't you mention, before we went to pick up the girls, that there was some man in your office hitting on you? And that another man sent you flowers?”

Elizabeth smiled, thinking back to her conversation in the office with the young man she'd met earlier that day---George Wickham.

She'd been standing there, searching for a revised document to a French business contract (completely oblivious to everything around her, of course) when she heard a sonorous, masculine voice near her ear.

“I don't suppose you can tell me where the bathroom is?” the voice said.

He had a Southern accent, Lizzy detected that immediately. But from what region? Lizzy---an absolute nut when it came to finding information about accents and dialects (true language fanatic that she was…)---had to ask.

“I'll tell you where it is,” she said, pulling out the proper document with a faint smile, “On the condition that you tell me what part of the country you got that accent in.”

She turned, her papers in hand, only to see a very tall—very handsome---man standing right next to her. He was a bit older than her, thirty, perhaps, or thirty-one. But he had a friendly face, and he was wearing an Armani suit. He looked very professional, very business like, and very important. And he was smiling. At her.

Elizabeth felt a slight flutter of butterflies in her stomach. She blinked, faltering ever-so-slightly before saying,

“Oh, sorry about that. I'm just curious about those types of things,” Lizzy shook her head. “At any rate, the bathroom…it's just right around the corner, you can't miss it.”

“It's all right,” the man said with a laugh and a shake of his head. “Let me have your best guess, though. Where do you think I'm from?” His eyes seemed to twinkle a bit as he spoke to her.

Elizabeth paused, tilting her head and listening intently to the inflection of his voice.

“Tennessee, I'd say,” She said finally.

“Very good!” The man gave a low, surprised chuckle. “That's exactly right. And you are---?”

“Elizabeth Bennet,” she said, extending her hand. “I work as a translator for Darcy Industries.”

“I'm George Darcy,” he shook her hand, his smile broadening. “And I'm impressed, too. I figured someone so pretty and well spoken had to be more than just another secretary.”

He stood close to her, but his manner was so casual that it didn't cause Lizzy the least amount of discomfort. She saw him check his watch.

“I was afraid I'd be late for my meeting today, but I have a feeling that if anyone's late, it'll be him,” George explained.

“Him?” Elizabeth asked.

“Darcy,” George said, his tone flat. “I asked for directions to the bathroom so I know which way to go if I get physically ill from his presence.”

“Not a fan of Mr. Darcy, I take it?” she said dryly, surprised to hear someone speak so frankly about her boss. Everyone in Darcy Industries who she'd met either respected the man beyond all rational estimation or feared him. She did neither.

“Not quite,” he admitted, flashing her a wicked grin. “Especially given the fact that I'm defending my younger brother against a case filed by Mr. Darcy---unjustly filed, I might add. My brother's totally innocent; Darcy and his bratty sister are just trying to frame him for defamation of character. It's complicated, but it all comes down to money, I'm sure of it. I'm a lawyer, by the way.”

“Well, I didn't think you were a secretary either; not by that suit you're wearing,” was her quick reply. She saw George eye her appraisingly, obviously pleased with what he saw. He likes me, she realized, and felt more than a bit pleased. Still, the information George Wickham had told her about Darcy was shocking---and she probably wasn't supposed to hear any of it. Strange that he would tell her at all. It certainly wasn't her place to be privy to that type of information. “He may be my boss,” she assured him, “But he's no friend of mine.”

“Well, it's good to know I have an ally,” George said, flashing her another smooth smile. Elizabeth laughed.

It was at that point that Mr. Darcy had shown up and seen the two of them standing together. His eyes were on Wickham, and his facial expression showed pure disgust.

Lizzy had been quick to excuse herself at that point, happy to get away from Darcy, but seething inwardly all the while. To think, she had to work for such an arrogant, egotistical, self-centered, cold-hearted, ruthless man! Her list of grievances towards him just kept getting longer and longer, especially in light of what Wickham had just told her. She'd disliked speaking to him before, she'd thought him arrogant and spoiled and far too rich, but now she honestly couldn't stand him. And to think---poor Wickham, standing up for his brother in the face injustice, and against such incredible odds!

She'd been furious after that, for Wickham's sake; too furious to do much work, really. What had completely lightened her mood, though, came in the form of a knock on her door. It was Wickham. Seeing him, she brightened a bit.

“Come in, please,” she said eagerly.

“I don't have much time,” he admitted. “Off to meet my brother, you see---give him the run down on the list of lies he's fighting here. Darcy and his sister---they're such bastards! Darcy doesn't know what he's going up against, messing with my brother and me. Greg's innocent; he doesn't deserve this,” he shook his head. “Sorry.”

“Really, it's okay. I'd be angry, too, if it were my sibling,” she nodded. Greg just laughed.

“Oh, Elizabeth,” he said. “I like you.” Lizzy blushed. “Look, would you like to go out to dinner some time? Or even just a drink?”

Are you kidding? Who'd say no to that? An attractive lawyer who obviously loved his family. Mother would tell me I could hardly do much better than that---and she'd be right.

She agreed immediately, of course, and the two arranged to have dinner in the first week following the New Year.

Elizabeth told her sister all of this, particularly emphasizing what she perceived as George Wickham's noble cause, and Darcy's generally foul disposition. Jane listened to it all quite calmly, her big blue eyes shifting to the burning wood in the fireplace when Lizzy was finished.

“Well, George truly sounds like a nice man,” she began cautiously. Lizzy's eyebrows shot up.

“But?” She demanded.

“But, he seems very quick to speak ill of your boss, Mr. Darcy,” Jane insisted. Elizabeth's eyes widened.

“Well, I certainly think he has just cause, Janie!” Lizzy hissed softy, careful not to let their voices carry too loudly. They didn't want to wake anyone---especially not Aunt Gardie. “I mean, his brother is being unjustly bullied in the legal courts! Wickham said so, and I have no reason not to believe him,” she insisted firmly, strands of her auburn hair falling into her eyes as she spoke. She brushed it away with a single gesture and plumped her pillow again, resting her cheek against the soft down. Jane did similarly, pulling a blanket up to her chin. It was getting late, and it had been a long time since either girl was relegated to sleeping on a floor. Lizzy, for one, hadn't slept on a floor since college.

“Well, there are two sides to every story,” Jane said sagely, her voice drifting off. She was beginning to fall asleep---perhaps her dreams tonight would be of Charles Bingley?

Lizzy rolled over onto her back and laughed softly at her sister.

“Oh, Janie,” she whispered in the darkened living room. “I swear, you couldn't think badly of a single person on this earth, even if you tried your absolute hardest.” I have an extraordinary sister, she thought to herself. She thought then of all her siblings, of her parents and her great-aunt Gardie and all the people that she loved. An extraordinary family, really. “Goodnight, Janie,” she said at last. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, Lizzy.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I swear, I am in love with Jane Bennet!” Charles Bingley proclaimed confidently as they walked through streets of Washington, D.C. He looked happier than Darcy had seen him in months (not that he'd seen him much at all, these past few months).

Hearing this proclamation, Will Darcy just took a long sip of his soda, laughing a bit and shook his head. He'd heard known Charlie a long time now, had heard him sing this same tune so many times before, about so many different women…

“That's what you said about that Brazilian girl two years ago,” Will pointed out, dropping is now-empty drink in the trash can. “What's different with this one?” Fitzwilliam Darcy was never one to skirt an issue when it came to what he thought---in particular, where his good friends and his family were concerned.

“Brazilian…oh, you mean Francesca?” Charlie just waved the comment off genially. “That was nothing more than boyish infatuation, my man.”

“Didn't she move in with you after two weeks?”

Charlie shook his head.

“No, you're thinking about Marianna in Spain.” Charlie shrugged. “What can I say, Will? With both of them, Marianna and Francesca, I was young and stupid. I was just a kid, really, with too much money and I not enough of an idea…an idea of who I was as a person. I was all wrapped up, and I was just too…” he paused, struggling for a way to explain himself properly. “…I don't know, too emotional. I couldn't think clearly.”

Will looked at him skeptically.

“I remember you said distinctly at the time that Francesca was the love of your life. And the same with Marianna. You insisted you wanted to--” Will cut off his comment, though, looking on ahead at the crowds of people. Of the two of them, it was no surprise Darcy was the one to notice ten-year-old Caroline was no longer in sight. After all, he'd had years of experience watching out for his own younger sister. “Hey, Charlie---where's your sister gone?”

Charlie's brow furrowed momentarily.

“Who'd think she could move so fast, with such small legs? Caroline!” Charles yelled out into the crowd. He quickened his pace until he saw a small, blond-haired figure pressed against the glass display of Tiffany's & Co. Today was the day after Christmas, and Charlie had volunteered to take his younger sister Caroline Bingley, shopping. Apparently the little girl had been less than thrilled with some of her gifts and had created such a stink that their father told Charlie to take the girl shopping and buy whatever she wanted. With a child such as Caroline Bingley, that as a dangerous proposition.

Caroline Bingley was the product of elder Bingley's short lived marriage to an Italian soap-star, and therefore Charlie's half-sister. Fred Bingley married Caroline's mother after knowing her for three months, and divorced her two months into the marriage. All Will had ever heard Mr. Bingley say on the matter was the following: “Thank God for prenuptial agreements.”

Still, Caroline was technically Fred's child, just as much as Charles, and therefore he cared for her and paid Caro's mother a hefty chunk of change in child support. The girl was completely spoiled, and looked to become Charles' polar opposites in temperament. Twenty-six year old Charlie was as genial and easy-going a person as Will had ever met. Ten-year-old Caro Bingley was…well…a brat.

“Charlie!” the Caroline turned, managing to scream into Fitzwilliam's ear as she did so. Will winced. The little girl grabbed Charlie's hand and pointed at a sapphire pendant. Her eyes lit up hungrily as she admired it. “I want this! Get me this!”

The two young men followed the child into the store. The song “Walking in a Winter Wonderland” was being piped over the intercom system.

“They're still playing Christmas music I see,” Charles observed. He didn't seem particularly irritated by this fact. Instead, he started humming the song softly under his breath. That was Charles Bingley for you, the only person in the whole of North America who wasn't annoyed or irritated by the annual overplay of secular and commercialized Christmas tunes. “Hey---how was Chanukah?” Charlie asked Will as they followed Caroline around the store.

“Still going,” Will informed his friend. “It's eight days, which means it ends the 27th of December. Tomorrow. But it's been good.”

“It's a gift every night, right?”

“Yep,” Will nodded. “Eight days, eight gifts. I bought Georgie things I know she'd never get for herself--- things I knew she'd like. And a few things for the baby, too.” He watched little Caroline move voraciously throughout the store. He could swear that child shopped as if she were hunting game in the wilds of Africa.

“Does she know if it's a boy or a girl?” Charlie asked casually. Will's gaze shifted back to Charles.

“She doesn't want to know.” he said and shrugged, obviously puzzled by that fact. “I'd want to know, if it were my child.”

At that comment, Charlie could only laugh aloud.

“For you to have a child, Will,” he said to his friend with a grin, “means you'd have to have a wife, means dating, which means you'd have to do something other than work in your free time.”

“I've thought of that,” was Fitzwilliam's reply. His eyes drifted over the cases and cases of expensive jewels, checking to see if any of it caught his eye. He strummed his fingers on the glass. Nothing.

“Looking for a holiday gift, sir?” a young assistant came up to stand eagerly behind the counter; she noted the expensive watch on his hand, the fine clothing, and smiled her broadest smile. “A gift for your wife, perhaps? Or, would I be more proper in suggesting an engagement ring? A lot of people propose during this time of year---especially New Year's Eve. We have specialists here who can find the perfect engagement ring for you and your girlfriend.”

Will merely frowned. He could see the hope that signaled “possible large commission” fade in her eyes as their gazes met.

“I'm not interested in buying anything,” was his cool response. “Thank you.”

“Hey, Will,” Charlie came up from behind him, oblivious to the whole exchange. “I just remembered something---you are coming to my New Year's Day Eve party, right?”

Fitzwilliam turned, nodding absently. He suddenly wanted to get out of this jewelry store---very badly.

“Yeah,” was the extent of his response. He checked his watch before asking, “Is Caroline finished in here?”

“Yeah, I bought her the pendant. She's just wandering the store, now.” Charlie heralded his sister by calling out, “Hey, Caro, you ready to go?”

Caroline came trotting over to them, her bag in hand. Her thanks to Charles was done prettily enough, Will supposed, but overly sweet and smacking of pretense. Will knew one thing for certain, regardless of how much money he possessed, if he ever married, he and his wife would damn well make sure their children never turned out like that. The mere thought was enough to make him shudder.

He held the door for the little girl. As she exited, she beamed at him, giving him her brightest smile and pulling out her pendent.

“Like it?” she asked with a toothy smile.

“Very nice,” Fitzwilliam nodded casually, waiting for Charlie to catch up. Apparently pleased with having his approval, the little girl proceeded to skip ahead of them. She was happy with her purchases. For the moment, anyway.
“Will,” Charlie said eagerly, “before I forget---you're coming to the New Year Ball, right? Netherfield Manor. Standing invitation, as always.” He clapped his friend companionably on the shoulder. “You'll get to meet Jane. Once you meet her, Will, you'll understand. With her it's just---I feel more alive---she makes me want to be a better person,” Charles' voice drifted off for a moment before clearing again. “Anyway, she's coming, and she's bringing her sister. I've arranged for them to stay in the guest corridors, just like you. I've seen her sister, too---you'll get along with her. She's a sweet girl. Very different from her sister in looks, but pretty in her own right. Name's Elizabeth. She's roughly our age, maybe a little younger.”

It was then that it really hit him. Elizabeth Bennet. Charlie's new girlfriend—this mysterious Jane---went by the last name of Bennet. Had a sister named…

Wow, he thought to himself. You can be really blind some times.

“Do you know offhand where this Elizabeth Bennet works?” Will asked casually.

“You know, it's never come up,” Charlie admitted, scratching his head. Will could tell he wasn't really paying attention, because he shifted the topic right back to Jane. “You'll like Jane a lot, Will. You'll understand what I'm saying once you meet her.” He paused, though, before adding, “And I think you'll like her sister, too. Trust me, man---she's just your type.”

“Yeah, I know. What I mean is, I think I know her already,” Will amended his statement, wondering if Charlie had caught his slip. There was know `think' about this matter, though. Elizabeth Bennet who worked for him and Elizabeth, Jane's sister, were the same person. Had to be. He explained, “I didn't connect the two names Jane Bennet and Elizabeth Bennet, until just now. She works for my company.” He paused. “I'll be there.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Chapter 6 A:

“Wow.” That was all Lizzy could say.

Elizabeth just starred for a moment, absolutely gap-jawed at the thought of spending the night as a guest here. Netherfield Manor. And on New Year's? Who would have thought they'd be invited by the heir of the manor himself. Elizabeth grinned at that thought. Well, there were worse things in this world than being friends with the wealthy heir to a large estate.

“Ready, ladies?” Charlie asked the two women cordially. Despite their protests that they were more than capable of carrying their own luggage, he insisted on doing it for them.

They followed him up the neatly trimmed path across the grassy lawn---up, up the hill to a large, rectangular Colonial-style manor. It was a grand structure to begin with, but in the fading light of dusk, it looked just lovely---all the bushes were decorated with twinkling lights, red bows, evergreen wreaths and swags covered each of the windows and the doors. People were already arriving it seemed, family friends and associates of Bingley's father, and being properly directed to their rooms for the night. Elizabeth could hear the old-style orchestra band warming up as they passed the ballroom.

The Bingley New Years Eve Ball was an annual bash orchestrated by Fred Bingley, Charles' father. Everyone invited showed up prepared to spend the night as a guest at Netherfield Manor. The bands were live, the bar was open, and everyone dressed to the nines.

Bingley led Jane and Elizabeth to their room for the night; a pretty twin bedroom. The only problem was, there were so many halls here and it wasn't a hotel, so there weren't room numbers on any of the doors; Lizzy was more than mildly afraid she'd end up getting lost and opening the wrong door when the party ended.

Second floor, south hallway, fifth door on the right, she told herself as Charlie dropped them off. She excused herself, allowing Jane and Charles a bit of privacy and putting her bags down. It was a nice room, spacious and well decorated in shades of dark red and soft gold. There was a connecting bathroom, and the two twin beds were framed with mahogany wood. She'd been hesitant to accept Charlie's offer at first, afraid she'd feel awkward at the thought of not knowing anyone, and not wanting to get in the way of Jane and Charles on New Year's Eve. Charlie had been quite insistent, though.

“I'll introduce you to one of my best friends,” he'd assured her with a wink. “His name's Will. He's a great guy, and he's not coming with a date. You two could spend the evening together, getting to know each other. He's an upstanding guy, very close to his family, very smart and witty. Really, Elizabeth---he's one of my best friends in all the world. You'll like him. Trust me on this.”

Well, Charles Bingley's word was assurance enough for Lizzy. She'd come, determined that even if meeting this mysterious “Will” turned to be a bust, well, at least she was out of the house on New Years Eve. That had to count for something.

Second floor, south hallway, fifth door on the right. Now it was just a matter of remembering that come midnight.

Elizabeth put her travel bag on her bed, unzipping it and taking out her dress for the evening. Charles had said people dressed very formally to this event (well, that was logical; they didn't call these things “Balls” for nothing), so she'd brought the nicest dress she owned. Bought in a boutique in Paris for a startlingly reasonable price, it was a black velvet off-shoulder gown reaching down to her ankles. It had slits up both sides, a low back, and a heart-shaped neckline. It looked great on her, and she knew it. The only question was, would she wear her hair tonight up, or down?

Best to get another opinion---preferably a man's, as she was opting to dress to impress the gentlemen in attendance tonight. And it hardly mattered if Charles saw her in her gown now or later---Jane was the one who'd be capturing his full attention tonight.

It was decided, then. She'd ask Charles what he thought she should do.

Elizabeth pulled off her turtleneck and jeans and slipped on the dress, shivering ever-so-slightly at the feel of the air on her back. She managed to zip the dress up by herself (the zipper was hidden discreetly in the side of the dress), ran a brush quickly through her hair and looked quickly in the bathroom mirror. Pleased, she moved towards the door. She could hear here sister's gentle laugh, followed by the warm timbre of Charles' voice.

“Can I ask your opinion on something, Janie, Charles?” Elizabeth called out, opening the door. “What do you think would look best with this dress? Should my hair be up, or d---”

She didn't even get to finish her sentence; pure shock had silenced her again (that seemed to be happening a lot, lately). And apparently, it had silenced everyone else too. Jane and Charles were standing outside---not alone---but with a third person. And that person was her boss, F.M. Darcy.

And they were all staring at her.

“Lizzy, you look amazing!” was all Jane could manage. “I've never seen you wear that dress…”

“You look great, Elizabeth,” Charles agreed wholeheartedly. “Stunning.” Her boss, noticeably, said nothing at all. His mouth just formed a thin line. Jane merely looked from Elizabeth to Darcy and back again.

“Charlie was just introducing me to his friend,” Jane said at last. “This is the man he told you about, Lizzy. This is Will.”

Chapters 6B: Ringing in the New Year

Suddenly, the black velvet of Lizzy's gown was feeling very thin indeed. She felt vulnerable, like she was trapped in one of those horrid walking-around-naked dreams that she heard people talk about sometimes. Of all the people in the world that she could meet tonight, why did it have to be him?

“Yes,” Elizabeth nodded in flat reply to her sister's introduction. Her gaze was squarely on Darcy. “We've met.”

“You know, Will told me the same thing a few days ago,” Charles admitted, scratching his chin a bit. He seemed none-the-wiser to Lizzy's discomfort. “Didn't you, Will?”

It seemed Darcy was not so successful at hiding his discomfort. He managed an nod and seemed completely at a loss for anything to say otherwise. Elizabeth suppressed a smirk, strangely gratified to see so wealthy and powerful a man so uncomfortable. He may be rich, but he's probably an idiot when it came to social functions… At last, aware that he was expected to make some sort of response, Darcy spoke.

“I thought there was a very strong possibility that you were the Elizabeth Charles referred to, yes,” he admitted, his eyes lingering on her for a moment. Elizabeth suddenly felt the urge to squirm. “Miss Elizabeth Bennet is an employee of mine.”

Yes, and one you've wanted to fire since the first day of work, no doubt.

“Fantastic!” Charlie cut through the tension with a jovial burst of laughter. “I was afraid Lizzy'd have no one to keep her company tonight. You'll do the honors, right Will? Take care of her for the night, show her around Netherfield.” His cheerful face turned from Darcy to Elizabeth, sure the matter was a done deal. Lizzy frowned. Nice guy though Charlie was, he was suddenly grating on her nerves. Unperturbed, Charlie continued.

“He's the perfect tour guide, Lizzy. Will's been here a thousand times, practically knows the place as well as I do. And I think you'll like Netherfield. It's nice enough, in its own way. Can't compare to Darcy's Pemberley, of course---not nearly as grand, you see…”

Now Elizabeth was just confused…She hadn't a clue what “Pemberley” was, nor did she particularly care. Besides which, while she lacked a date for the evening, she certainly didn't need `taking care of' by anyone, let alone her boss. Guest or not, she was about to inform them all of these facts on no uncertain terms. Come hell or high water, there was no way she wanted to be stuck ringing in the new year with her boss. She'd sooner walk home. Darcy, however, spoke first.

“I'd be happy to show her around this evening,” he said quickly. Though he was obviously speaking to Charles, he gave a nod in her direction. “Tonight, she shouldn't think of me as her employer. Just Will.” He turned now, this time speaking directly to Lizzy. “I can stop by your room at 9:30 tonight.”

The way he said it, it seemed more a proclamation than a question. Lizzy struggled for an answer to that comment, and found none.

“That's very nice of you, Will,” Jane said diplomatically. “And Netherfield is so beautiful…” Hearing that comment, Charles smile widened.

“I'd hoped you'd like it,” Charles said to Jane, his eyes brightening.

Say something! Lizzy's mind ordered her. Darcy is an arrogant, egotistical, horrible man, and absolutely the last person in the world you want to be around on New Year's Eve! Elizabeth's mind, though, seemed to have locked up, like a computer that freezes over right before it's about to crash. She just kept hearing that one phrase of his, over and over again in her head. Just `Will.' What in heaven's name did that mean? Surely, he couldn't expect her to really believe that? Just `Will,' as if they'd just met on the street? “Just Will,” as if she could simply forget he that was one of the richest and most powerful men in corporate America? Just Will as if…as if they could actually be civil to one another…could be friends!

“Um,” Elizabeth said, trying to clear her head of its sudden fog. Of all the times to have her thoughts muddled. Why couldn't she think of a good excuse to keep from meeting him? “Jane and I should really be going---we still have to unpack and finish getting ready---”

Charles nodded, checking his watch.

“You're right, of course. I should go check on how things are coming in the kitchen. Want to come, Will?”

Apparently Elizabeth wasn't the only one who felt like her senses were wrapped in wool at the moment. Darcy, too, looked a bit off center. When he realized Charles was speaking to him, though, he nodded, clearing his throat.

“Yeah…sure, I can come with you,” he stuck his hands in his pockets and giving Jane a cursory nod. “It was nice meeting you, Jane,” He allowed himself on last look in Lizzy's direction. “Until later, Elizabeth.”

Elizabeth responded to him with the absolute minimum that politeness required, and gestured Jane into their room. It had unnerved her the way he'd said that, as though it were a date, or something.

“That's who Charles wanted me to meet tonight?” Elizabeth exclaimed once the door was shut. She plopped down onto her bed, her tone full of dread and irritation and confusion.

“I didn't find out his last name until minutes before you showed up,” Jane explained calmly, locking the door. “He seems…not so bad. He was very friendly when Charles introduced me,” Jane said softly. “He seemed much more restrained after you showed appeared. He's very handsome, Lizzy. You didn't tell me he was so handsome!”

“It doesn't matter,” Elizabeth insisted obstinately. “That's my boss, Janie. Mr. Darcy—the keeper of Mount Doom himself---the man I've been complaining about for weeks and weeks now---”

A small smile of amusement graced Jane's beautiful face as Elizabeth spoke. What could she find amusing at a time like this?

“What is it?” Elizabeth demanded flatly, standing and putting her hands on her hips.

“You sound just like Lynnia when you talk that way. Did you know that?”

Elizabeth let herself a momentary scowl and tried to glower at her sister. She couldn't do it though, not when she was faced with Jane's pale, doe-like eyes staring back at her. Drat. With that look, Lizzy just couldn't stay mad, not even for a minute. The glower was quickly laughed off, and melted into a smile of amusement.

“All right, all right. Fine. Point taken,” she admitted at last with an easy smile. “Enough talk of the dreaded Mr. Darcy. This place is so huge, I'll probably be able to lose him somewhere between the hors d'oeuvres and the footmen. Let's get down to the “nitty-gritty,” as Aunt Gardie would say. I never did see what you decided to wear tonight.” Elizabeth shut her eyes while Jane changed. “Just tell me when you've got the dress on.”

She waited a few minutes, hearing the `zip' of a zipper and the rustle of smooth fabric.

“Finished.”

Eager to see what her sister had chosen to wear for the evening, Elizabeth opened her eyes---and smiled.

“Oh, Jane,” Lizzy exhaled, getting off the bed to examine her sister's dress. Jane gave a graceful spin, allowing Elizabeth to see the whole of the dress. The gown was the color of a pale summer rose---a gentle pink fabric that shimmered a glittering white whenever Jane moved. It was cut just right for her sister, enhancing Jane's willowy dancer's body, amplifying all of her long lines, and making her movements look fluid and watery. Lizzy knew that her sister was gorgeous---no one could see Jane, even for an instant, and not know that. A dress like what she was wearing now, though, really emphasized the fact. “You look absolutely beautiful.”

“You think Charles will like it?” Jane asked hesitantly. Lizzy laughed.

“Oh, Janie---he won't want to let you go come midnight,” Elizabeth shook her head and brushed a stray hair from her eyes.

It had been a very long time since she'd seen Jane this happy---not since before the doctor's had told Kitty she'd need surgery. There was a twinkle in Jane's pale blue eyes, present since she'd started seeing Charles that wouldn't---or couldn't---fade. “You really care for him a lot, don't you Janie?”

“I know it's only been a month,” Jane began with a nod, biting her lip. Elizabeth closed her hands around her sisters' cold fingers. Jane was trembling. “I do, though. Very much.”

Elizabeth had never been in love. Watching its transforming power now over her sister, though, was both wondrous and a little frightening. Elizabeth doubted she'd ever manage to find anyone who could inspire such strength of emotion, such passion in her. To see that Jane had found that in Charles Bingley was consolation enough in Lizzy's heart. More than anything else, Elizabeth just wanted to see her all her siblings happy…

“I do declare, Lady Jane,” Lizzy said at last, and with a wicked grin. She'd taken on a mock-Edwardian accent. “You're well nigh on your way to being in love.”

“Lizzy!” Jane was quick to quiet her sister, her eyes going round and a blush deepening her cheeks. “Oh, I wouldn't dare say---”

“Well, why not?” Lizzy pressed, going into the bathroom to retrieve a brush. She stood in the doorway, brushing her hair back and twisting it up---she'd decided to put it up for the night. “Janie, dearest, he thinks the same, I'm sure of it. He's absolutely enamored with you. It's there in everything he does. Even Dad noticed it.” There was a mischievous glint in her eyes now. “Mom will be thrilled, you know. One of us Bennet girls getting married. Goodness knows she's probably ready to give up on me. I've spoiled my mind with education and career,” Lizzy joked. She walked back over to where her sister stood. “Sweet Jane, we all just want you happy. That's all.”

“He makes me happy,” Jane whispered. It was a simple fact, stated plainly. The plain truth.

Elizabeth squeezed her sister's hand, her eyes bright. She'd seen how Charles looked at Jane in the weeks since they'd been dating---even a blind man could see it. Tonight Jane was a guest for Netherfield's annual Ball. Elizabeth's silent bet for this New Year's Eve though, was that come this time next year, her golden sister would be hosting this party---with a husband at her side.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Fitzwilliam Darcy checked the clock on his laptop. It was 9:15 at night. He was due to meet Elizabeth in fifteen minutes. He leaned back further on his pillow, acutely aware that at this moment, she was just doors away from him---probably still in her room with her sister, Jane.

Jane Bennet was absolutely stunning, Charles had been right on that point---and he ought to know; he'd worked with (and dated) some of the most beautiful women in the world. She seemed to possess genuine sweetness about her, a soft, kind smile, and it was obvious that Charles was falling in love with her. Jane's emotions, however, were less easy to ascertain for Will. She smiled sweetly when spoken to and seemed genuinely attentive where Charlie was concerned. That was about all, though. Fitzwilliam couldn't help but worry that his friend was mistaking Jane's overall sweetness of temperament for something more than what it was.

Strumming his fingers on his keyboard, Darcy moved his mouse to check his email. He opened the file; ten messages. Six messages from board members wishing him a happy New Year. One from a general stockholder at Darcy Industries inquiring about rates of return. One message from his aunt Catherine. Something to the tune of “why haven't you and Georgia come to visit yet,” no doubt. Best wait to reply until he could come up with a good excuse to satisfy her. One email from the President of Beaux-Ciel, the French internet corporation that Darcy Industries was looking contract with in the coming year. And one from his sister, Georgia. It said simply this:

Will,
You shouldn't be checking this email tonight. If you're checking it, it means you're thinking about work. Stop it. Tonight's New Year's Eve, remember? Don't forget your promise. At least one of us should have some fun tonight, hmm? And don't forget I love you. So does Dad.
---Georgia.

Will smiled. Despite his eagerness to see Elizabeth tonight, he could have used Georgia's company. She's seen him before he'd left Pemberley that afternoon, followed him outside to where the valet had parked his car.

Promise me you'll drink a lot of champagne tonight, she'd signed to him as he walked around to the driver's side of the car. I'll be stuck with sparkling cider, and only Dad for company.

Will dropped his bag in the back seat of his car and shut the door before resting his hand on his sister's shoulder.

“You can still come, you know.” His piercing gaze met her's. “You could sleep in my room for the night. I'll sleep on the floor.”

Georgia frowned.

Don't be ridiculous. Her gestures as she formed the words were quick, sharp, definitive. There was no self-pity there, just frankness. I have nothing to wear. Besides, even if I did go---who'd want to dance with me, looking like I do now? I'm as big as a house. Young men won't exactly be lining the block to get my phone number.

“You're only three months pregnant,” he responded insistently. His sister could be so pig-headed sometimes. Just like their father. Just like him, come to think of it. But he wasn't the issue just now. She was. He began again, this time keeping his tone forceful, but level. “You're not expected to stay in confinement here. We're not living in the 19th Century, Georgia. Just because you're pregnant---”

And unwed, and nineteen and I've never been to college, his sister countered, shaking her head firmly. Find me a young man who's interested in dating someone like me at this party, and I'll call you a miracle worker. She shook her head, clenching her jaw.

Loosening his tightly buttoned collar, Will gritted his teeth. If she was trying to make him angry, she was doing a wonderful job of it.

“Georgia Esther Darcy, if that's your best reason,” he stated bluntly, “if what happened with Greg is keeping you from---”

I'm staying here, Will. she cut him off with the firm motion of her fingers and shook her head firmly. That was the end of that where she was concerned, Will could tell it from the set of her jaw. She might be a copy of their late mother in looks, but that stubborn set of that jaw was screamed the family name of `Darcy.'

“Fine. If you insist on beings stubborn, I won't argue with you,” he gave in, taking his car keys from his right pocket. Maybe it really was hormonal, but his sister had been so stubborn lately. Or maybe she was just becoming an adult. And maybe just a true Darcy. At any rate, he was running out of the energy required to argue with her. Time for a change of subject. “What's on the menu for you and dad tonight?”

Veal, Georgia signed back, scrunching up her nose in obvious distaste. I'm not touching the stuff. Dad ordered the cook to make it. `Dietician's menu be damned,' he said. I'm sure it's terrible for his cholesterol levels.

“I guarantee it.” Will agreed with her. “I caught him looking over stock figures this morning.”

Something else he's not supposed to do. He's so stubborn Georgia agreed.

“Stubborn like his daughter is stubborn?” Will tugged teasingly at one of her long, dark curls, the edges of his mouth quirking upwards in amusement.

No, Georgia replied blithely. Stubborn like his son is stubborn---so very convinced that he's right all the time.

“Ah, but that's because I am right,” Will declared, opening his car door and getting inside. “And you know it.”

Arrogant, too, she signed and stuck her tongue out at him, folding her arms atop her stomach. Promise me one thing, can you?

“What's that?” he asked. He stuck the key into the ignition, pleased to hear the purr of engine. He turned his head to see what his sister was asking him.

Have fun tonight. she signed quickly to her brother. No working. Dance if someone catches your interest. Flirt if you want; have fun, drink lots of champagne, and her hands paused momentarily as she pondered how to phrase what she wanted to express. Just try to forget that you're F.M Darcy. The family name was a heavy weight on her brother's shoulders; she saw its effects on him daily. Just be Will tonight, okay? Be yourself. She looked at authoritatively at this point. Promise me?

“I promise.”

Recalling the conversation, Will shut off his laptop and closed it with firm finality. It was a promise he intended to keep. He unplugged the laptop from the wall, determined to leave it off for the night.

Fitzwilliam stood from his bed, his muscles aching. He was 27 years old, his muscles weren't supposed to ache. Flexing his shoulder, Will rubbed the base of his neck. He'd probably just strained a muscle during his morning run and the condition had been aggravated by the stress of tonight's party. What he really needed was a good massage…

He checked his watch again. 9:28. Nearly time to meet Elizabeth. Nervously re-buttoning the collar of his pressed shirt, he retrieved the jacket to his black tux, slipping it on. Closing the door behind him, he walked down the hallway.

As he walked, he started whistling softly under his breath, hoping that would keep him calm and casual. It was a trick always seemed to work for Charlie when he got nervous. Fitzwilliam had been caught completely off guard when he'd first seen her today. It hadn't helped him, of course, to notice how incredible black velvet looked against her skin. This time he'd be more prepared though, and try his best to keep some vestiges of composure.

“Why do this to yourself?” he couldn't help but wonder. “You know you can't get involved with an employee…” Don't mix business and pleasure was one of the oldest adages in the book. Mixing the two was worse than bad business----it was colossal stupidity. Relationships became a quagmire when love and money and authority and power all melded together and intertwined. Expectations became muddled, motivations unclear. For the moment, even if he wished it---and he couldn't ignore the fact that he did wish it---nothing would happen.

So why keep torturing himself like this? Why seek her out?

Ah, but Will was not stupid. He knew himself very well, thus he knew the answer to that question. Actually, he knew it before he'd even thought to ask it.

“Because I can't stand the thought of her hating me,” he whispered to only himself as he neared her door. “Because I'd rather have friendship than…nothing. Because…”

Because there was no going back now. And if he truly wanted her friendship, he knew he'd better start acting more like a friend and less like…well, less like how he'd been acting.

He stopped when he reached her door. Here he was. He hadn't felt this nervous before meeting a girl since before college. Taking a slow breath, he knocked. He was only waiting a moment before the door swung open. He was only waiting a moment before the door swung open.

He thought himself prepared, thought himself able to remain calm and professional and completely composed. Seeing her now, with her auburn hair slightly curled to frame her pretty face, standing close enough to him that he could catch the scent of her perfume, he knew he one thing. He'd thought wrong.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Lizzy had joked with Jane that seeing Darcy in a tux, she'd be stuck with a “James Bond” look-alike as her boss for the evening.

"Oh, my Lord," was the first thought that popped into her head when she opened the door. "He looks better than James Bond."

Not that she could let him know that. He already had an ego the size of California.

“Good evening, Mr. Darcy,” she greeted him politely. It seemed Darcy, however, needed a moment to summon up a reply.

Elizabeth's eyes narrowed. What was his problem? She knew he wasn't a total idiot; she'd seen him function normally enough around other people---a bit starched, yes, but normal enough. Was this man completely incapable of acting like a polite human around her? Did he really hate her that much? If that was the case, why in the world did he offer to give her a tour of Netherfield?

“Really, Mr. Darcy,” she began impatiently. “I'm more than capable of being on my own for the night. I'm sure Charles suggestion was an inconvenience, so why don't I just…”

“Nonsense,” was his quick reply. Seeing Lizzy blink as if taken aback, Will tried to lighten his tone. Why was his gut reaction around her always the defensive? He just needed to relax, like his sister said, to be himself. “I mean it's not a problem. And please, call me Will. I don't want you to think of me as your boss this evening.”

Darn. She'd been hoping he'd just admit this was a bad idea and let her on her own.

“Fine,” she agreed coolly. “Will.” Hmm…she doubted she'd ever feel comfortable calling him that. It was apparently what his friends called him. Funny, she hadn't thought of him as really capable of having friends. And how he could get along so well with someone as genial as Charles seemed beyond her comprehension. She stepped out into the hallway, trying not to show how annoyed she was feeling. “Lead the way, then.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Charles was right when he said Darcy knew a lot about Netherfield Manor. He showed her the best of the Manor, detailing the information he knew about the architectural style of the time, the history of Netherfield itself, and how long it had belonged to the Bingley family. Elizabeth's interest in architecture was passing at best, and she'd expected to be bored witless for the duration of the tour. It was mildly disconcerted to discover how interesting Darcy made all of this information sound. She hadn't wanted to enjoy herself during this excursion, and the very fact that she was almost having fun was both confusing and irritating.

By the time they were close enough to hear the chatter of guests incoming guests and silky voice of the hired bandleader, she knew that the ballroom must be near.

“Thank you, Mr. Darcy, for taking the time to show me around,” she in a voice that she hoped sounded gracious and appreciative. He was her boss, after all. “It was very…informative.”

Darcy was staring at an oil painting hanging on the wall, seemingly only half listening to her. At last he turned to her, an odd look on his face.

“You can't call me `Will,' can you?”

Elizabeth blinked, surprised by his suddenly forthright manner.

“Um…honestly?” she asked him, hesitating for a moment. “No. I don't think I ever can.”

Hearing that, it seemed as though a shadow had fallen over his face. Elizabeth brushed a stray lock from her eyes, unsure of what to do next. Could she go now? Was she expected to stay for a moment and chit-chat?

Well, is was certainly awkward…

They were spared further awkwardness, however, by the approach of another couple further down the hall.

“Darcy!” it was a tall, thin man, balding and wearing a red silk cravat. “It's good to see you here!” He looked wealthy (everyone here looked wealthy) and he approached Darcy with a short stout woman by his side. Elizabeth presumed the woman to be the man's wife.

Darcy seemed to know exactly who this man was. It made sense. Every at this party seemed to be part of Washington's high society, and her employer was certainly that.

“Hello, William,” Darcy shook hands with the tall man and the man's wife politely. “Mrs. Luken.” The stout lady nodded.

“I don't want to worry you while you're working, Darcy, but I wanted to let you know I've filed the proper paper work. Everything should proceed as planned,” the tall man informed him. A knowing smile crossed his face when he saw Elizabeth standing next to Darcy. “And who is this, may I ask?”

There was a tone in the man's voice that she didn't like. Knowing what must be running through his head, Lizzy wanted to slap him. Darcy took up the reigns of introduction.

“This is Miss Elizabeth Bennet,” he explained, frowning a bit as he looked from Lizzy to William Luken. “Elizabeth, this is my lawyer, Mr. William Luken, and his wife, Marta Luken.”

This was Darcy's lawyer? Ah, the papers the man had said he filed…that was probably in reference to Greg Wickham. Maybe that was what George had wanted to discuss with Darcy when she'd seen him in the office before Christmas? George Wickham---the man she was set to have a date with next week...Every word of their conversation came suddenly flooding back into her mind. How could Darcy make himself party to defaming the character of an innocent young man? And for money, no less, when both Darcy and this lawyer probably had boatloads to begin with! The mere thought of such a wrong stirred up every sense of equity and justice within her. Now she really did want to slap him. Than again, if she was slapping people, she really ought to start with Darcy first.

“Ah,” William Luken nodded and smiled, as though a mere introduction made everything perfectly clear. “Well, I heard Bingley tell that the band tonight is wonderful, and the singer for the evening is supposedly top notch. I dare say you're in for a treat tonight, Miss Bennet.” As though on cue, Elizabeth could hear the band music swelling behind the closed ballroom doors. “I hope to see you and my client here dancing the night away.”

Maybe after hell freezes over, she thought icily, suddenly wanting to get as far away from Darcy and this Luken fellow, as possible.

Luken and his wife said their goodbyes, and Darcy and Lizzy were left standing in the hallway once more, very much alone.

“Well, Mr. Darcy, I believe this is where we part ways,” Elizabeth said bluntly. “Thank you for the tour, again.” She moved to reach for the door, only Darcy go their first. His movements weren't either; they were very natural, very fluid. Inwardly, though, the gesture made her seethe. Just because he was pleasant enough for half an hour, didn't mean he was any less of an arrogant, pompous jerk. Oh, why couldn't Charles have been best friends with Wickham, instead of this idiot?

“Thank you,” she said with as much sincerity as she could muster. “Have a good evening, Mr. Darcy.”

She was quick to lose him in the crowd after that. There were a lot of people here, and the room was large enough that it proved easy enough. The ballroom itself was stunning: ornate, colonial style molding, wide, sweeping windows that showed a large expanse of stars and sky, polished, wooden floors. Waiters were drifting through the crowd serving hors d'oeuvres and flutes of white champagne. There was a bar open at one end of the room, and a dance floor on the opposite end.

Lizzy spent the next hour and a half dancing with whoever asked her, enjoying the music of the band and generally trying to get any thoughts of F.M. Darcy out of her mind.

“Lizzy?”

Elizabeth turned around to see Charles standing behind her. It was the first time she'd seen him all evening and he looked very spiffy indeed, having opted to wear a white tuxedo coat for the evening with black trousers.

“Hello, Charles,” she greeted him warmly. She gestured to his coat. “Nice threads.”

“You like it?” he asked merrily. “I hoped Jane would, too. I think she does…she said she does, anyway, and that's what matter right?”

“Exactly,” Elizabeth agreed. Charles smiled, as much to himself as to Lizzy before musing aloud,

“Jane looks beautiful tonight, doesn't she?”

Elizabeth nodded. She'd seen the final product after hair and makeup (not that Jane ever needed much) and Charles was right, her sister looked stunning.

“Would you like some champagne?” Charles asked her, hailing down one of the passing waiters.

“Please,” she nodded, accepting the glass gratefully, taking a long sip.

“I hope you're having a fun time, Lizzy,” Charles said at last, taking a sip of his own champagne and looking around. “I wanted you to. And where's Will disappeared off to? Did he show you around Netherfield?”

“He sure did---just like you asked,” Lizzy assured him, trying her best to give him a pleasant response. It wasn't fair to blame Charles for his poor taste in friends.

“Well that's good,” Charles nodded, taking a sip of his own drink. “I was headed in the other direction when I spotted you; your sister's actually waiting for me at one of the tables down near the band. Would you care to join us?”

He offered Lizzy his arm with a flourish.

“I'd love to,” Lizzy giggled, giving him an extravagant curtsey in return before linking arms with him. Charles really was adorable. It was easy to see why Jane liked him so much.

Having Charles as an escort through the ballroom proved an excellent idea, too. Since Netherfield was his father's home, people just seemed to part ways for him, smiling and raising their glasses in a New Year's salute. There was only one person Charles seemed to have eyes for tonight: Lizzy's sister, Jane.

A cluster of small round tables for fatigued party guests had been set up at the far end of the ballroom. On each table was a votive candle surrounded by an arrangement and evergreens. Jane was sitting at just one such of these tables. Charles pulled out the chair next to where Jane sat for Elizabeth to sit.

“I'll be right back, ladies. I have to go check up on things in the kitchen. And don't get her in any kind of trouble while I'm gone, Lizzy,” he teased Lizzy.

“Who, me? Get Jane in trouble?” Lizzy joked right back. “I don't know what Jane's told you, Charles, but you shouldn't believe her. I am absolutely the height of social decorum.”

“Yeah, I'll bet,” Charlie said with a grin. “I'd almost believe you, Pinocchio, but for the fact that your nose is growing by inches.”

“I promise, I'll be good. Besides,” Lizzy raised her glass to him, “getting into trouble's no fun unless you're here to join us.”

“Good answer,” Charles said approvingly. He gave them a quick wink and an even faster grin before disappearing once more into the crowd of celebrants. Seeing that he was well and gone, Elizabeth leaned across the table to talk to her sister.

“It looks like you might be forced to keep this one around for awhile,” Elizabeth teased Jane, her bright eyes twinkling. She took a sip of her champagne before setting the empty glass down. “He certainly gets high marks for gallantry.”

Jane nodded, her expression very far off.

“I'll miss him when I'm in New York,” Jane whispered, as much to herself as to her sister. Hearing this, Elizabeth smiled and sat back in the chair. Her keen ears picked up on the first notes of the band's next song.

“Jane,” she said to her sister, a smile of recognition forming on her face. “I love this song he's about to play. You should dance with Charles when he comes back. Do you know it?”

She started singing the first lyrics softly under her breath, her gaze drifting to the flickering votive candle on the table.

“When I fall in love,
It will be forever,
Or I'll never fall in love.”

“Hello ladies,” Charles' pleasant voice cut through Lizzy's momentary reverie. “I'm back. And guess who I've brought with me?”

Jane was looking at Charles, beaming. Charles was looking at Jane, also beaming. Darcy was just standing there, looking handsome and imposing…and…and why was he even here? Why wouldn't he just leave her alone?

Lizzy frowned. Apparently she wasn't the only one to notice the band had struck up a new song. She watched Charles lean in close to Jane.

“Feel like dancing?” Charlie held out his hand to the elder Bennet. Jane smiled, standing gracefully and following Charles lead. For her sister, at that very moment, little else seemed to exist in this world but the two of them. That left Elizabeth and Darcy. Wonderful.

Darcy walked over to where Elizabeth sat, crouching down to be at eye level with her.

“Would you like to dance, Miss Bennet?” he asked her softly, holding out his hand to her, palm up.

Strange. The very moment those big, dark eyes of his met her gaze, her voice just couldn't form the proper words of refusal. Seemingly contrary to all rational thought, she found herself not only not refusing, but willingly taking his outstretched hand.

“When I fall in love,
It will be forever,
Or I'll never fall in love."

The singer the Bingley's had hired for the night really was gifted, Lizzy couldn't help but muse. His voice was soft and silky and managed to convey the emotion that the song required. Darcy pulled her onto the dance floor, his movements smooth and confident and without a hint of awkwardness. His touch was light, his hands feather-light around her waist. He'll probably just step on my feet, she thought grimly. But he didn't. His footwork was actually quite good, his movements surprisingly graceful.

"In a restless world like this is,
Love is ended before it's begun,
And too many moonlight kisses,
Seem to cool in the warmth of the sun."

For Will, asking her to dance had seemed harmless enough. Just one dance; what was the harm in that? And it had seemed like the right thing to do at the time---especially since she'd been sitting there by herself. Having her so close though---close enough that he could feel her body heat, feel the smooth velvet of her dress...It was a bad idea, he knew it as soon as she'd touched his hand, and it was testing the limits of his self restraint. Besides which, the scent of her hair was intoxicating…

All the while, Lizzy was beginning to wonder how long they'd be dancing in complete silence. At last, Darcy made some attempt at conversation.

“Have you read any good books lately?” he asked, clearing his throat.

She was in a bit of a sour mood for having to dance with Darcy, but she couldn't help but laugh at that comment. This was his idea of conversation?

“No I haven't,” she shook her head, her hardest trying to suppress an amused smile. “Anyway, I'm sure we don't read the same books…”

“Oh, I'm not so sure about that,” he began, his hand sliding across the fabric of her dress and grazing her skin. His light touch caused a brief shiver across her skin---he could feel it. She looked up at him, her beautiful eyes suddenly burning bright.

“You read something other than the Wallstreet Journal?” she demanded archly, trying to shake off her body's response to his touch.

“Hard to believe, isn't it?” Will joked. There was a small smile playing on his lips, too. Lizzy looked away. She didn't want to see him smile. He was entirely too handsome when he smiled.

“Well, regardless, I'm sure we wouldn't agree on what the author was trying to say,” she insisted obstinately.

“Well, we could debate on an issue, than,” he suggested, shifting his light grip around her hand. Her skin was so soft, and her hands were so small in contrast to his...

“I don't think that's a good idea,” Elizabeth shook her head. He spun her around, looking as though he were trying not to laugh.

You're right of course,” he agreed with her, his voice soft next to her ear. “We'd probably just end up arguing. We usually do…”

Elizabeth frowned, hearing that response. Was F.M. Darcy teasing her? No, that was impossible…

“It was good the Bingleys had such nice weather tonight,” he tried to break the silence again, barely allowing his hand to graze the velvet of her dress. “It rained all day last New Year's and the guests tracked mud all over the ballroom floor.”

“Ah,” was the extent of her response. She was determined not to enjoy herself dancing with Darcy. She absolutely refused to. Besides, he'd probably just asked her to dance out of pity.

"When I give my heart,
It will be completely,
Or I'll never give my heart.
And the moment I can feel that
You feel that way too,
Is when I'll fall in love
With you. "

Elizabeth loved this song and had to constantly check herself from singing along to the lyrics. Besides, this particular song was just so personal. To lesson her discomfort, she'd just have to keep talking to him. Maybe that would block out the lyrics of the song. At the moment, though, she couldn't think of much to say...

"When I fall in love
It will be forever,
Or I'll never fall in love.
In a restless world like this is,
Love is ended before it's begun.
And too many moonlight kisses
Seem to cool in the warmth of the sun."

He slacked his grip around her waist and stepped back to spin her around with a surprising degree of grace. When he pulled her back to his arms, she was positioned a good bit closer to him than she had been before---closer than he'd intended, actually. Not that he minded. It had just worked out that way. She just sort of melted into him, resting her head on his shoulder without even thinking about it and letting the music carry her. She could smell the scent of his cologne. He could feel the soft velvet of her dress. Both were so caught up in the music and the moment that at that very second, neither one felt a minute's hesitation. It just felt…right.

"When I give my heart,
It will be completely,
Or I'll never give my heart.
And the moment I can feel
that you feel that way too,
is when I'll fall in love
With you."

“Darcy! Miss Bennet!”

That voice calling out to them was enough to break the sudden magical spell that had wrapped around them like a golden cloud. Dazed, Elizabeth pulled away from him. She took a breath, shaken.

“I'd hoped to see you two out on the dance floor tonight,” Mrs. Luken called out to them loudly, her husband by her side. “I've seldom seen such fine dancing---and such a lovely couple.”

Elizabeth frowned at that comment, stiffening noticeably. She'd nearly gotten caught up in the moment---nearly forgotten who she was, who he was…nearly forgotten and all about Wickham and Luken and the whole lawsuit. Nearly forgotten what a jerk Darcy could be.

“I'm sorry,” he began once the Lukens were gone. “I forget what we were discussing earlier…”

Maybe it had been the champagne…Yes, that had to be it. Darcy seemed as irritated by the interruption as Lizzy was—though why he'd be angry, she certainly couldn't guess. The song was nearly done though, and then she'd make sure to stay far away from him for the rest of the night.

“I don't think we were discussing anything,” she paused, her voice sharp and her mouth thinning in obvious displeasure. “But if you're so keen on talking, Mr. Darcy, tell me one thing---do you and your lawyer over there enjoy defaming the character of an innocent young man? One would think you'd have enough money already…but some people can never have enough, I suppose…”

Darcy looked as though he'd been struck.

“What are you talking about?” he whispered, his voice suddenly dry.

“You should know,” she replied tartly. The song was coming to a close so she dropped his hand and stepped back, folding her arms across her chest. “His older brother told me all about it.”

Now Fitzwilliam couldn't keep the angry glint from his eyes. She didn't care to hear his answer, though. Instead, she left him there on the dance floor, trying to weave her way through the crowd---all blue-blooded socialites and businessmen who'd had far too much champagne.

If he tries to follow me out of here, I'll slap him---boss or no boss, she thought decisively, weaving her way through the crowd.

He follow her; he couldn't just leave things like that between them. He could imagine what Wickham had told her, and none of it was good. Jogging down the hall, he caught up to her, reaching out to touch her shoulder in an effort to catch her attention.

“Elizabeth---” he began and watched as she jerked away at his touch. This young man tried not to flinch, but couldn't. Hoping she hadn't noticed, at last he spoke. “If George Wickham is your main source of information,” he began coolly, “then I suggest you get a better one.”

“Oh, and I suppose the Wickham family is completely in the wrong here, full of lies and deceit and you're completely in the right?” she asked him sarcastically, her bright eyes blazing with indignation.

“Yes,” he said flatly. “You know absolutely nothing of the situation.”

She seemed taken aback by this answer.

“And you don't think any prejudice on your part could have something to do with this?” she demanded of him.

“No,” he answered her curtly, his voice not wavering for an instant. If she'd thought she'd seen him angry before, oh, she'd been wrong. Now his blood looked fit to boil. Not that that made her back down for an instant, of course.

“Well, It's good to know you're so sure of yourself,” she snapped. “I'm sure that must help you sleep at night.”

It was at that moment---that very moment---that the whole ballroom full of people suddenly chanting.

“Ten! Nine! Eight! Seven!”

In the midst of their arguing, they'd both nearly forgotten the fact that it was New Year's Eve. The sound of the chanting echoed down the hallway like the steady beat of a drum. Elizabeth and Darcy just stared at each other for a moment, seemingly unsure whether to keep arguing or…or to…what?

“Six! Five! Four!”

A thought slipped into Lizzy's mind, causing her momentary panicked. Weren't people supposed to ring in the New Year with a kiss?

“Three! Two! One!”

Well, ceremony be damned, as far as she was concerned; there was no way in hell she was kissing him---even if he was rich and young and handsome! Besides, from the dark anger in his eyes, he certainly looked in no mood to be kissed.

The ballroom absolutely erupted.

“Happy New Year!”

Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth just stared at one another, unsure what to do next and both still seething with anger. Lizzy, of course, could think only of Darcy's faults and Wickham's noble fight against the `lions of injustice.' She had no way of knowing that, at that very moment, Fitzwilliam's anger was directed not towards her, but towards the Wickham brothers.

“Well,” Elizabeth said at last. “We don't seem to be doing much good just standing here, do we?”

Not really aware of what she was doing, she ran her fingers through her auburn hair, freeing it of its curls as she spoke. She had no way of knowing, how beautiful she looked at that moment, even when she was so very angry.

“It would seem not,” Darcy agreed, his voice tight. She waited for him to continue.

“Fine,” she said at last. What a way to ring in the New Year...She certainly hoped Jane was having a better time than she was. “Fine. Well, goodnight, Mr. Darcy. Happy New Year.”

“Goodnight, Miss Bennet."

With that said, they both turned and went their seperate ways for the evening, not saying another word to the other. Both were dissatisfied, though for very different reasons.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Silver confetti fell down in waves around Charles Bingley, showering his hair as he released Jane from a midnight kiss. Jane's cheeks were flushed and she was smiling at him, despite the crush of the crowded ballroom.

“Happy New Year, Jane Bennet,” he whispered to her, cupping her face in his hands. “Does it look to be a good one?”

Jane nodded and shut her eyes for a moment, as if saying a silent prayer. When she opened them, she knew one thing for certain: she'd never felt so happy.

“Happy New Year, Charles,” she whispered. At that point, Charles couldn't help himself. He had to kiss her again.

The ballroom was still packed with people. Confetti was still falling around them, the band was still playing its last song, and noisemakers were sounding off all around them. For Charles Bingley and Jane Bennet, however, New Year's Eve could be described with one simple phrase: pure joy.

Chapter 7: Judging by the Book

Jane and Lizzy went to their respective cars that New Year's morning, prepared to part ways outside of Netherfield. Jane was readying for her drive back to New York City and Lizzy was set to return to her Georgetown apartment.

“Be careful driving,” Lizzy instructed Jane, giving her sister a warm hug and meeting her gaze. While Elizabeth freely admitted to having a bit of a lead foot when it came to driving, she'd driven enough with sweet, mild-mannered Jane to know that her sister was an accident waiting to happen when it came to driving on the Pennsylvania Turnpike.

“I promise you, no speeding,” Jane assured her.

“All right, I'm holding you to that,” Lizzy said with a nod. She exhaled, watching her breath crystallize in the cold winter air. Her gaze traveled across Netherfield's long, grassy lawn---now covered in a crisp, morning frost “Have you said goodbye to Charles?”

The mere mention of Bingley's name caused Jane's already rosy cheeks to a bright to a pleasant crimson. “He said he'd met me out here in a few minutes. I think he just wanted to make sure his little sister was awake and dressed first.”

“His sister?” Lizzy asked speculatively, shading her eyes from the sun. “I didn't know he had one. Did you get a chance to meet her?”

Jane hesitated before responding.

“Her name's Caroline,” she said at last, and Lizzy could see that her face looked a little pinched. “Charles calls her Caro. She's an…unusual child." She shrugged. "I can't imagine growing up in a place as grand as Netherfield. It would be difficult to stay grounded with such an upbringing.”

Elizabeth suppressed a giggle. After twenty four years of living, Elizabeth knew that in `Jane-speak' the term `unusual' generally meant irritating. Goodness gracious, if Jane thought Charles' sister was irritating, the girl must be an absolute demon.

“Well, Charles seems to have managed it all right.” Lizzy said casually. “I guess it depends on the personality.”

Jane nodded, buttoning her coat as high as it would go and shivering a bit. “Did you have a nice time last night?”

Now it was Lizzy's turn to hesitate.

“In a place as beautiful as this is, with free champagne and a whole ballroom full of rich young men? What do you think?” Elizabeth responded at last, forcing a smile and deftly avoiding her sister's gaze. She saw little sense in telling her sister and her host for the evening what a disastrous night she'd had. “At any rate, I should leave you to your Romeo. I'm sure he'll want a private goodbye,” Elizabeth said with a wink, giving her sister a kiss on the cheek before walking over to her car. “Call me when you get back to New York.”

Opening up the trunk, she dropped her suitcase inside. Closing it firmly, she walked around to the driver's side of her car, unlocking her door. At just that angle, she could see the front door of Netherfield Manor. Within its archway were three people---Charles Bingley, a golden haired child in a pink dress, and F.M. Darcy.

Elizabeth shivered, as much from the thought of having yet another awkward confrontation with her boss as from the blustery winter wind. She pulled nervously at her knit hat, tucking an errant strand of hair within its confines and opened her car door. It was definitely time for her to go.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“There she is,” Charlie pointed to a pair of cars at the far end of the driveway. One was a small, green Honda with a tall figure beside it. Even as bundled up as the figure was in a thick woolen coat and hat, Will knew the person to be Jane Bennet. The car in front of Jane's was a Ford Taurus, and the figure that spoke to the dancer with such humor and vivacity could be none other than Elizabeth Bennet.

“Charlie, I'm bored,” Caroline tugged on her brother's sleeve. “It's cold and I want to go inside. Why are we standing here staring at the blond girl?” She stamped her small foot on the ground. “I don't like Jane,” the little girl shot a dark glare in Jane's direction. “I miss Marianna. She was prettier. And who's that other lady standing next to her? She's wearing an ugly hat. It looks like it was bought at Walmart.” Caro snickered scornfully. “Poor people shop at Walmart. Is she poor? Why are there poor people at Netherfield?”

“Hey, Charlie, why don't I take Caroline inside---” Will interrupted Caroline's tirade. For such a small child, her lungs were extraordinarily powerful and Will was momentarily fearful of the thought that Elizabeth could hear this conversation. No doubt it would just serve to confirm her worst thoughts about people of the upper class… “You haven't eaten yet, have you Caroline?”

Hearing this suggestion, the `poor women' at the front lawn were all but forgotten in Caroline's mind and the girl turned eagerly towards Darcy. “Oh, can you see my new kitten? Daddy got it for me as a New Year's eve gift.”

“Maybe later, Caroline,” was Will's casual response.

“Would you mind taking her in, Will? I'll meet you inside then,” Charles said with a nod, his gaze shifting back to Jane. “I won't be seeing her for a month. After another week of dancing at the Met, her company goes on tour.”

Will nodded, knowing instinctively that while his friend would be staying in D.C., his heart would be firmly attached to wherever Jane Bennet wandered. Ever since Jane and Charles had started dating---roughly a month now---Charlie's head had been firmly lodged in the clouds. What was it about the Bennet women that could make rational young men abandon all sense of reason and logic? What was it that was so very entrancing?

“Darcy!” Caroline stomped her foot, seeing him staring off in the distance and desperate for his attention. Will kept hearing the echo of last night's confrontation in his mind. He couldn't stop thinking about it, or about what she must think of him... “Darcy, I'm hungry.”

“Oh, right,” he nodded, forcibly tearing his eyes away from Elizabeth and following the little girl back into Netherfield, through the main hall and into the kitchen. The Bingley's had given their cook the day off, so Will knew Charles and his little sister would be fending for themselves for the day.

“What would you like for breakfast, Caroline?” Will asked the girl, summoning up a cheeriness he didn't really feel. He knew he must look awful. He'd hardly gotten any sleep the night before and he hadn't bothered to shave this morning. It's good to know you're so sure of yourself…That must help you sleep at night. Elizabeth's sharp words had haunted his mind since the moment they'd sprung from her lips. That was the irony of it. He was sure of himself and the truth of the matter. And because of that, he got no sleep.

Elizabeth Bennet. He needed to fix the situation with her, and do it sooner rather than later. More for his own sanity and peace of mind than anything else. But not, of course, until he could think clearly. Not until he could sit down in his office in Pemberley and write…

“Nanny always gets me a glass of orange juice,” Caroline dictated to him.

Will sighed, rolled up his sleeves and looked around the kitchen. When his mother died, he'd started making breakfast for Georgia. Surely it couldn't be that much more difficult to manage with Caroline Bingley?

“And we have chocolate chip cookies in that top shelf,” The little girl added primly, taking a seat at the kitchen table and looking as though it was perfectly natural for him to act the part of her manservant. She smiled at him, fiddling with her puffy pink dress as she sat and batting her eyes at him. Will turned towards the refrigerator to get them both a glass of orange juice, groaning inwardly. Watching a ten-year-old girl try to make eyes at him was terribly disturbing. He hoped Charles was planning on coming back soon…

“I don't think Charles wants you to eat chocolate chips cookies for breakfast,” Will said finally, sitting a glass of orange juice down in front of her.

“Nuh-uh,” Caroline shook her head and frowned at him. “My nanny lets me have them for breakfast when she's here…”

He didn't believe that for an instant, of course.

“Well,” Darcy said with a frown. “I don't look like your nanny, do I?”

“No,” Caroline Bingley answered him slyly. Oh Lord---why was she batting her eyes again? And where was Charles? Trying his best to ignore her fluttering eyelashes, Will continued.

“Well, if you lived in the Darcy house, you'd be getting Cheerios for breakfast,” Fitzwilliam answered the girl pragmatically, opening a cabinet and finding it full of different brands of cereal. He picked one and poured out a bowl for the girl, adding milk and setting it down before her. “There you go.”

She glared at the bowl and then at him, with an equal measure of displeasure directed towards both the bowl and the man.

“My daddy's very wealthy, you know,” she said flatly.

“Yes, I know that,” Will answered her evenly, meeting the girl look for look. “But I'm even wealthier, and I say if you're a good girl, you'll eat your Cheerios.”

It was at that point that Charles strolled into the room. Seeing the ongoing between his sister and his best friend, he frowned.

“What's going on?”

“It's his fault, Charles!” Caroline shot an accusatory glare in Will's direction. “He's trying to make me eat something disgusting.”

Charles walked over to his sister, inspecting the bowl of soggy cereal.

“Caroline,” he said with a sigh. “Just eat your breakfast, okay? I'll take you out for lunch, how's that?”

It was a peace offering, and it seemed to subdue her, though she didn't come any closer to touching the cereal. She just sat in her chair and sulked, glancing in Will's direction every once and awhile as if sincerely disappointed.

“How's Jane?” Darcy asked casually.

“Fine, I guess,” Charles shrugged and took a seat next to his sister. Will sat down in the chair across from him. Something was wrong, that was evident enough by the mild crease in Charles' brow. “It's just…a little odd…”

“What's odd?” Will asked, taking a sip of his orange juice.

Bored with a discussion that didn't include her, Caroline Bingley simply rolled her eyes and jumped down from her chair, fleeing the room and yelling in her wake, “I'm going to be in the stereo room playing with my new MP3 player, Charlie!”

Both young men ignored her, of course, and when Charles finally spoke again, his tone was low. “It was strange. I kissed her goodbye…We won't be seeing each other for a month, you know? I suggested that I could meet her in California, she and I could spend some time in San Diego, seeing the sights and checking out the restaurants, nice and romantic and secluded…She said `no,'” the young man shrugged, obviously baffled. “She just frowned and shook her head…I don't know…she just didn't seem interested.”

Charles fiddled with his sister's glass of untouched orange juice while he spoke, running his forefinger against the smooth surface, watching how the light from the eastern window refracted a golden-white pattern on the wall. “I don't know, Will,” Charlie gave a shrug, his shoulders slumping a bit. “Everything seemed to be going so well and she said she had a wonderful time last night…I didn't think it was just politeness on her part...” What he said next was said in nearly a whisper, as though the thought were too horrible to dare speak aloud. “Could it just be politeness?”

As with most things, Fitzwilliam weighed his words heavily before making his response.

“I won't lie to you, Charlie,” Will said finally. “I don't know Jane as well as you do. She strikes me as very polite, very sweet, very young and…very eager to please.”

He let his words linger in the air for a moment, sinking in.

“What does that mean?” Charles asked at last.

Will shrugged, knowing his friend wouldn't like what he had to say next.

“It means that she's very young and you're very rich, and you sweep her off to a place like Netherfield on New Year's Eve...It means maybe she got caught up in the fantasy of your lifestyle and now that she sees things in the light of day, she's grown frightened. I mean, honestly Charlie, has she given you any definitive sign of her affections?”

“No. She said she was happy last night---she looked happy---but she's never said anything more than that…” Charles shook his head. “I knew she was shy, but it's like there's a…a barrier, you know? And whenever I'm about to say something, something really definitive about how I feel, it's like she draws back…”

Will sighed, inwardly cursing his friend's poor choice in romance. He didn't want to be right about Jane Bennet, he really didn't, but he was afraid he was…

“Sounds a lot like the way Marianna acted,” Will said at last, draining his glass and setting it down on the table. Hearing that, Charles flinched.

“You think so?” Charles asked his friend, his voice raw.

“Just keep your eyes open this time, Charlie. That's all I'm saying.”

Charles felt his jaw clench and willed himself to breathe. He'd thought the two to be note at all similar until Will had mentioned it. But now that he thought it over, the comparison to his ex didn't seem that preposterous. Marianna had been shy and coy, eager to please and hesitant to commit to him. After four months of dating, two diamond necklaces and a trip to Fiji, she'd left him for another man. She'd told him one night over dinner that she'd been swept away by him at first---by his money, his charm, his romantic lifestyle. She'd pretended to love Charles because it was romantic, she said, because she'd thought he was her Prince Charming. Only after four months, Marianna came to realize she didn't love Prince Charming. She loved a stock broker from New Jersey.

The worst part about it was, he knew he hadn't loved Marianna. But he was fairly certain he loved Jane. Charles drained his own glass, down to the last of the pulp. He might as well have swallowed the glass, for all the good it did him. Last night---all this month, in fact---everything had seemed so bright, so complete and sure, so…well, magical…Now, in the light of a new day and with Jane gone back to New York, the thing left to him was the cool shadow of doubt.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When Elizabeth Bennet opened the door to her apartment building that morning, she expected see her roommate Charlotte Li bustling around cleaning, or perhaps making breakfast, depending on when she'd woken up.

What she didn't expect to see was her younger sister, seventeen-year-old Lynnia Bennet, sleeping soundly on her couch. Elizabeth blinked and shut the door, allowing herself a momentarily puzzled look in her sister's direction before setting down her suitcase. She knew Lynnia had possessed a copy of her apartment key for as long as Jane had been renting with the apartment Charlotte. Still, this was odd.

The curtains in the room were drawn and nothing else looked out of order. The whole room was so silent and still, in fact, that Lizzy wondered if Char was still sleeping as well. Strange. Char never slept past 8:00.

Setting her keys down on the radiator, Lizzy walked over to her answering machine. There was a steady, blinking `one' shining up at her. Making sure the volume was set low enough so as not to wake her sister, Lizzy pressed `play.'

“Lizzy,” a nervous, nasal voice filled her ears. Elizabeth winced. “It's just me, Billy Collins, calling. I see you're not home…you're quite a busy woman, I suppose…I was just wondering about your plans for New Year's Eve. Your mother didn't know what you were doing this evening when I called your home, and my parents are having their annual fondue party, so I just thought---”

Blessedly, the message cut off there. She hadn't thought her night could possibly be any worse than it had been, but perhaps she'd been too hasty in that conclusion. A fondue party with the Collins family sounded…well, if not worse, then just as bad.

Pulling off her cap and smoothing out her hair, Elizabeth walked over to her sister. Lynnia was still dressed as though she'd spent a night on the town. Her free-thinking sister always possessed a proclivity for the daring and the dramatic, especially in her style of dress. Today's outfit---Shakespearean maiden meets punk-rock---was different, but that was nothing unusual where Lynnia was concerned. The girl wore a long, pale blue, Renaissance style dress with wide bell sleeves. In stark contrast, Elizabeth could see that beneath the dress the girl wore black fishnet stockings and black boots that laced up to the knee. The teen's blond hair was in twin braids and covered in silver glitter.

Which of course mean that the sofa on which she was now sleeping was covered with glitter…

“Lynnia?” Elizabeth reached out, touching her sister's shoulder to wake her. “Lynnia, dear?”

Lynnia rolled over, groaning slightly, and blinked. She was wearing black eyeliner and purple eye shadow.

“Lynn, honey, do Mom and Dad know you slept here?” Elizabeth asked tentatively. She knelt down next to the girl, speaking softly. “What happened?”

Lynnia sat up slowly, sniffing and rubbing her eyes. She looked on the verge of tears. Lizzy felt her heart catch in her throat. Oh, dear God… “Lynnia, did someone hurt you?” she demanded, trying to fight her initial reaction of panic. “What happened?”

Lynnia's eyes clouded with tears.

“Carter Dennysen dumped me,” Lynnia sniffed. She leaned up against her sister, allowing herself a choking sob.

“Is that all?” Elizabeth said with a relieved laugh, tightening her arms around her sister. “

“What do you mean, `is that all?” Lynnia said, her tone clearly indignant despite the fact that it was muffled. “Isn't having my heart wrenched from my chest and torn into bits enough for one night?”

“Oh, Lynn,” Elizabeth said, smoothing out her sister's hair with a sigh. “When I saw you here and then you started to cry, I thought you'd been---”

“What?” Lynnia pulled away from her sister, wiping her eyes. “You thought what? That I'd been raped?” she guessed bluntly. “God, no…” she snorted, wiping tears from her eyes. “Not hardly. I didn't suffer through four years of self-defense lessons with Andrew for nothing. I hope you don't mind I crashed on your sofa for the night. Mom thinks I'm staying with Jenny Bailey, so I didn't think it'd make much difference, here or there, I'm not expected to be home regardless…”

Elizabeth nodded and handed her sister a Kleenex. “What happened?”

Blowing her nose loudly and wiping off her running mascara, Lynnia just shrugged.

“Well,” she began slowly, her voice still thick, “I don't think you knew this, but Carter's older brother owns a dance club about a fifteen minute drive from here. They were having a live band for the night, and Carter said he could get me in, as long as we didn't drink, right?”

“Okay,” Elizabeth nodded slowly. She already wasn't liking the sound of this story…“And?”

“And I didn't drink,” Lynnia answered defensively, rolling her eyes. “I'm not an idiot, Lizzy. I know better than that. Carter drank, though, whatever his brother gave him. He was being an idiot the whole night---”

“That tends to happen when people get drunk,” Elizabeth agreed. She pulled off her coat and folded her arms expectantly. “Then what?”

“Then…” Lynnia shrugged. “Then I was bored, so I wandered around a bit, decided to take a look around and see if there was anyone worth talking to...That's when I met him…”

“Him?”

“Yeah. I don't know, just some guy,” Lynnia said, sniffling and standing up herself. She walked over to the mirror hanging in the apartment foyer and frowned at her own reflection. “Can I take a shower here before I go back?”

“Be my guest,” Elizabeth nodded. “Who was this man?”

“He said he was a friend of a friend of Carter's brother. That was all. He asked if I wanted to dance and I said `yes'---I was bored out of my mind and this guy seemed nice enough…a little old for me, but nice…”

“How old?” Lizzy demanded suspiciously. She'd been to enough D.C. clubs in college to know the kind of men that could haunt these places.

“I don't know…maybe Jane's age. Maybe a little older,” Lynnia Bennet replied casually, dropping her tissues in the nearest wastebasket and turning back to Elizabeth. “He didn't look like a creep though, and I can handle myself regardless, so we start dancing. It was fun for awhile, he seemed nice…great voice and he whispered in my ear, real low.” Her brow furrowed as she continued. “But then…he started feeling me up. He was really subtle at first, but before I knew it, his hands were everywhere…Honestly, I felt like I was back at my high school homecoming with Aaron Parks freshman year. He was Aaron, only older. So I did the only rational thing I could think to do---”

“What's that?”

“I punched him in the gut,” Lynnia said succinctly. “He backed off really fast, Lizzy. The only problem was Carter saw the whole thing; I tried to explain what happened, but Carter was drunk by then and he said…” she shrugged, “…it doesn't matter what said. Suffice it to say it wasn't pleasant.” The teen started tearing up again and bit her lip. “Carter and I have been dating since sophomore year, and now it's just...over.”

“Oh, Lynnia,” Elizabeth said, shaking her head with a sigh. She could be gone for four years or forty years and some things would never change.

“Lizzy?” a voice called out behind them and Elizabeth heard the front door shut. It was Char. “Lynnia?? What are you doing here?”

“Hey,” Lynnia waved, sniffling and looking more than a bit chagrinned. “Sorry to just barge in while you were with that guy last night, Charlotte. I had kind of a bad night…”

Elizabeth turned towards Char, surprised. “I thought you were staying in on New Year's Eve…”

Charlotte shrugged, blushing a bit. Funny. In all the years she'd known Charlotte, she'd never seen her blush. “I had kind of a last minute date,” her friend admitted.

“Um…I'm going to go take a shower now, Lizzy.” Lynnia interrupted, trying valiantly to suppress a giggle. She leaned over to whisper in her sister's ear, “Charlotte's date was Creepy Billy Beardo.”

Hearing this, Elizabeth's gaze shifted back to Charlotte.

“You went out with Billy Collins?” she demanded, incredulous. “Why?”

Charlotte frowned. “What? I can't have a date for New Year's?”

“Char, it's not that,” Lizzy shook her head. “It's just...I heard the message and---”

“Look,” Charlotte interrupted, crossing the room as she spoke. “I know you weren't interested in him. That doesn't mean I didn't want to date him…”

“If you wanted to date him, that's fine, Char, I'm just surprised. I mean, Billy Collins…he's just…he's not exactly handsome or charming or even very smart…”

“Face the facts, Elizabeth,” Char began bluntly. “I'm not pretty like Jane, or you, or even Lynnia…I can't have my pick of handsome young men, okay?” Her tone was angry and defensive. Elizabeth blinked in surprise. “It's just…I know Bill, and I picked up the phone in the middle of his message to you and…” she sighed heavily before continuing. “Knowing you and Jane for so long, and watching men fall all over themselves to be around both of you…for once, I wanted to feel worthwhile. He might be ugly and awkward and verbose, but Bill Collins can make me feel wanted. Is that so wrong?”

Sufficiently humbled, Elizabeth could only nod in agreement. She suddenly felt as though she hardly knew Charlotte at all. “You're right, Char. If he makes you feel that way, then the rest doesn't matter. The way he looks doesn't matter, as long as you're happy with him. It was rude of me and as your friend, I shouldn't have said it. I'm sorry, Char.”

“Easily forgiven,” Charlotte gave a light shrug, a bit embarrassed herself. “You're not the only one to be surprised, I'm sure. Me dating Bill Collins…who knew?”

“Can't judge a book by its cover, right?” Lizzy quipped back.

But wasn't it nice when both the book and the cover were appealing? Ah, well. This week she'd be having dinner with George Wickham, a man who, as far as she could tell, seemed to have both the proper book and the proper cover. A definite rarity in today's world. Her sister Jane had certainly managed to find both book and cover at the end of this past year. Elizabeth couldn't help but hope that this year, it would be her turn...

---