Nothing Can Be Forgotten ~ Section I

By Kelly E.

Beginning, Next Section

Chapter One

Posted on Monday, 3 October 2005

William Darcy was not having a good day. He had just been in a conference with the US President over the state of their alliance, most of the problems had been patched up and the UK was unlikely to go to war with the US anyway, but just after that he had met with the French delegation and things had spiraled out of control from there. As if it wasn't bad enough that he had members of his own party calling his foreign policy absurd, he had now learned how to say 'rubbish' in 15 different languages including Japanese, Russian and Spanish. There was no way that this day could get worse.*

Then Charles Bingley, the Deputy Prime Minister, bounded into Darcy's office. He was reminded that this day would indeed get worse, if only because Bingley's perpetual optimism was a strain on Darcy's own cynical temper. However one could simply not get into an argument with Charles Bingley - it was impossible as Bingley always attempted to be a peace-maker in any argument and would generally acquiesce with the other. His bright, youthful looks and vibrant personality had endeared itself to the voters and Darcy knew that there were factions in his own Cabinet who wanted Bingley to replace him. Still, he didn't let politics influence his friendship with him.

“Jolly good Darce! I loved the way you stood up to the French ministers! Marvelous!”

“You mean the way I just made one of the biggest mistake of my political career?”

“Pardon?”

“Bingley think about it. The French government already don't like us, I doubt my little outburst helped relations with them.” He sank his head into his hands and let out a long sigh which contained all the anxiety and tiredness in his person. Bingley came nearer to the desk and sat on the end of it before patting Darcy on the shoulder.

“You think too much about work Darcy! Lighten up a bit! Don't take it too seriously.”

“Charles Bingley I do not believe that those words came out of your mouth. Don't take my job too seriously? I'm in charge of the United Kingdom. I think that merits my devotion.” He could see that Bingley was about to protest but got in before him, “And do you think you could fit more exclamation marks into your speech today?”

“Darce don't be such a spoil-sport. Come on, let's go for a drink. I'll bet we can sneak out past the security guards.”

Darcy just shook his head, watched as Charles scampered out of the room before getting up slowly and following him with barely any enthusiasm. Only Charles could face the public, the media and the varying committees in one day and still be cheerful. Then Darcy wondered why he had taken up politics in the first place. Sometimes it just didn't make sense. Well then life wasn't meant to sometimes.

Bingley was standing in an old corridor which was hardly ever used any more, which was shown by the decoration which looked more fitting in a 1950s film than in a state of the art house in Downing Street. Darcy could smell smoke wafting from him and realized that Charles must be smoking, a bad habit that he had picked up during the last general election campaign. Of course Bingley didn't smoke normal cigarettes like normal smokers did, oh no!, instead he preferred the menthol variety which supported his addiction but still left his breath and clothes smoke-free. Honestly!

“Ah I was wondering how long it would take for you to get here.”

“Well the scent of tar drew me here,” Darcy replied dryly.

“I know these cigarettes are brilliant, aren't they? No horrible stinks.”

“Almost as if you didn't smoke.”

“Yeah. Listen I found this passage thingy.”

Darcy cocked one eyebrow in disbelief, “Passage thingy? Bingley in case you haven't noticed we're not in one of the Famous Five books.”

“Oh I wish we were though, don't you? All that eating picnics and occasionally solving a few crimes. Oh the life. It'd be very exciting wouldn't it? I'd love to do something like that.”

Darcy decided that he wasn't going to say anything, it would only make matters worse. However he was reminded that behind Bingley's friendly demeanour was a shrewd and intelligent politician who had a fond spot for the ladies. In fact the latest one Hyacinth had just been left at the way-side yesterday. Shame, she seemed half decent, thought Darcy. Then again Bingley had a different woman every week or so and none of the affairs had reached the press. That was miraculous as Darcy's accidental kiss with Caroline Bingley had been front page news. He'd have to speak to someone in the Press Office.

“So what are we doing here?”

“Thought we'd go out for a drink. There's a great pub down the street. Serves the best beer.”

“And how do you plan that we get there and stay there without being accosted?”

“Disguise.”

Darcy rolled his eyes and wondered if a Cabinet Re-Shuffle was in order. A mentally insane Deputy wouldn't do the country much good, but then there'd probably been some in the past. “Disguise Bingley? What masks and fake moustaches?”

“Don't be so sarcastic Darcy. Just put on a hat, change what you're wearing and smile. No-one will notice it's you. Actually never mind the other things, even if you just smile no-one would guess it was you.”

“So droll Charles Bingley. Very amusing.”

“Go on, jump to it.”

Thank the Lord that they were friends or Darcy wouldn't be able to practise his sarcasm on a daily basis. Somehow he didn't think it would translate well with the ambassadors. He hopped up the back staircase and into his bedroom, a magnificent dark blue room which was very masculine. He quickly changed into jeans, an open necked shirt and tweed jacket. Then he decided that the tweed would give the game away too easily and opted for a black one instead. He was back downstairs within ten minutes, complete with cap on his head which shielded his upper face from public view. Bingley was waiting patiently, leaning against the banister. The guards had miraculously vanished.

“So, this passage...”

Nearly forty minutes, a lot of wriggling and effort later they were both standing outside The Meryton, a pub-nightclub thing. Darcy ardently wished that this wasn't one of those dreadful places where all the - what was the word used now? - chavs** stumbled out drunk from. Drugged up probably.

The bouncer was a stern, heavy man who asked for their ID but let two young women with virtually nothing on in without even a question. So this was the electorate. Probably support Labour, he shuddered at the thought. Labour was increasing in strength and as a result of the general election had reduced the Conservative majority considerably. Apparently there was some hot-shot young Labour MP for one of the Southern Constituencies who was leaving everyone else far behind him. Couldn't remember the chap's name though which was a great pity to Darcy as he prided himself on knowing all the competition, even the non-threatening ones.

Eventually the bouncer let them in, although it was probably due to fact that he couldn't find a reason to beat them up, thought Darcy arrogantly.*** Inside the club was a lot more attractive than the outside. The walls were painted a bright pink and blue with metal furniture, which was not what he would have chosen himself but then what choice did he have? He supposed that he could use his Prime Ministerial powers to have it re-decorated, but then that would take too much effort. When Darcy looked round for Bingley he discovered that he was gone and that he was left alone in the middle of a crowded London club on a Friday night. Possibly not the best thing in the world. Then he glanced towards the dance-floor and saw that Charles was, well he presumed dancing was the correct word but it appeared to be something completely different, dancing with a tall blonde girl who seemed to be very attractive. Of course she had to be for Charles to notice her, sometimes he was so shallow. They didn't look like they were going to be finished for some time so he went over to the bar and ordered a whiskey. The bar-tender peered strangely at him, probably never heard anybody order a whiskey before in this dreadful place, and then placed the drink on the counter.

“Fiver.”

“Five pounds?”

“Yeah.” Damn it was getting expensive to buy a drink. Maybe he should talk to the Chancellor about it. Then again, tearing out his eyebrows would be more fun than talking to the old bore about taxes.**** Good job he didn't make a habit of going out too much, well apart from the compulsory public appearances of course. God, those were dreadful. He glanced down the bar and noticed a young woman sitting a few chairs down from him looking thoroughly fed up. She seemed quite pretty but maybe that was the alcohol talking. So he moved seats so he was beside her. She didn't even look up at him as she ordered another drink. Her voice wasn't slurred so she wasn't drunk but she was definitely not stone cold sober. The woman picked up her glass of wine and chugged about half the contents back in one go. Darcy winced for her. She would have a gigantic headache in the morning.

“Excuse me, are you planning on staring at me all night?” She looked directly up at him. She had the most beautiful eyes he had ever seen, and he had a feeling that if he gazed at them long enough he would fall into their depths. “Do you speak?”

“Pardon? Oh yes, I do.”

“Well then...” She paused clearly waiting for an answer which Darcy could not give because he did not know what she was asking him. She carried on for him, “Staring at me all night? You're not one of those people who hate drinkers are you? Cause if you are I'll tell you now that I'm not in the mood for that tonight. Get enough of it from my mother.”

Darcy lifted his glass. “I drink.”

“So you do. Whiskey hmmm, never liked the taste.”

“Well it's an acquired taste,” he said smiling at her.

“Like fox-hunting and going to Eton?”

“Excuse me?”

She pointed at him. “Your accent. Very posh. Upper middle class I'd guess. Maybe even upper class full stop.” Darcy was baffled. This woman continued to amaze him. No-one had ever been so bold as to tell him the truth so bluntly. She put her hand out. “Lizzy Bennet.” Something about that name triggered alarm bells but Darcy ignored it. What was the most important thing now was to think of a reasonable pseudonym.

“Will.”

“Just Will?”

“Yep.”

“Like Cher?” She was looking at him in wonder.

“I was thinking Madonna personally but valid point.” She laughed. It struck a chord deep inside him and he grinned inwardly - she thought he was funny. Or was she laughing at him? That wasn't good. Well as long as she was having fun it didn't matter.

They continued chatting until the early hours when Lizzy decided to do something very rash.

She kissed him.

And he kissed her back.

The rays of light fluttered in through the blinds and Darcy found the left side of his face was warm with their heat. Then he realized that something was lying in his arms. Looking down he saw that it was Lizzy. She looked so pretty and peaceful that he didn't want to wake her so he just gazed at her for nearly half an hour before realizing that he had a press conference in two hours and that he would need to get back to Downing Street fast. So he jumped out of the bed, he presumed that it was hers, dressed and went out without looking back at Lizzy.

He was the Prime Minister. He could not have a relationship with a woman who was so inferior to him in every way. No matter how good it had felt last night their relationship could not go any further.

That's the last time I'll see her.

Explanatory notes:

*At this moment in Britain there is a lot of political unrest about Britain joining the EU. Conservatives and Labour are the two main British political parties and the UK Conservatives are not the same as the US ones. Think Conservative = middle/upper classes, and Labour = working classes and sometimes middle classes.

**A chav is a derogative term for a young working class person who wears a lot of big, fake gold jewellery. The opinions expressed here are Darcy's and they may or may not differ with the author's.

***If anyone's wondering why the bouncer didn't recognize Darcy or Bingley from their ID, my explanation is this. A survey carried out a few years ago found that only 97% of the British people questioned knew who Tony Blair was, bearing in mind that he was PM at the time.

****This story is completely fictional and in no way attempts to talk about the Blair/Brown situation. (Brown is the Chancellor of the Exchequer and there is allegedly a feud going on between them for the leadership of the Labour Party).

For any more information on British politics you can visit this website:

www.parliament.uk

Chapter Two

Posted on Tuesday, 11 October 2005

William Darcy, Prime Minister of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, was not a calm man today. It was about an hour after he had left Lizzy's house and after ignoring the security guards he found himself in his office with various members of the cabinet gathered around him, some looking at him like vultures. John Willoughby, the Chancellor and pain in the a***, was sitting looking very smug with his arms folded and his feet propped up on the table. The Home Secretary Knightley was standing with his hands folded behind his back beside Anne Elliot the Foreign Secretary. Charles, as usual, was smoking his menthol cigarettes. Someday Darcy was going to put a ban on menthol cigarettes before they sickened him to death.

“Well Prime Minister, looking forward to your crucifixion this morning?” Willoughby gloated, leaning forward in his chair slightly and sniggering. “I'm sure they'll give you an easy time.”

“Yes Willoughby. I'm sure they'll all forget about the massive failure that was the meeting with the French delegate and the fact that despite our protests the US President won't back down about anything.” Knightley was getting exceedingly annoyed. If there was one thing he hated in this world it was vain, slick and sly men such as John. Although Darcy shared his opinion he could not demote the Chancellor as half of his party would revolt. Not a good way to start a second term.

“George, calm down. At least you're not going to lose your job if things go badly,” Anne offered a faint smile but failed miserably, her face was pale and she clutched her hands together to stop them shaking.

“Anne, you won't. I promise.”

“Thanks William.”

“Mr Darcy it's time.”

“Thank you James. Well, let's face the hounds.”

The press room was chocked full of journalists and cameras and as Darcy entered the room he was almost blinded by what felt like millions of flashes. Such was his inability to see, he had to stand still for a moment before he could continue. He hoped it looked like he was in control, because inside he was a bag of nerves. All he could think about was the previous night and Lizzy, every thought of foreign policy, his policies in general and his successful election campaign was blown out of his head, and in it's place was a pair of dark brown eyes that seemed to stare into the soul.

He snapped out of the trance he was in and decided not to put off the inevitable.

“Steve, first question.” Steve was a journalist for the BBC and in private he and Darcy were reasonably good friends. However now this wasn't personal, it was politics.

“Prime Minister, do you feel that the vast majority of female MPs voted in during the last election signals that the British public want more female members of the Cabinet? How do you feel about female MPs in general?”

Okay, not about France or the US. Good. “Well I believe that the government should accept that there are women involved in politics however scarce they may be. I confess that Anne Elliot is the only female minister in my cabinet and she does a good job. However some women in politics do have a tendency to mither on about some issue with no relevance to running the country. Obviously they do appear to be more caring than their male counterparts and perhaps this is the price we must pay for living in such difficult times.”

“Most of them aren't much to look at either. Dull and dowdy and approaching menopause. Not the sort of people one wants to work with eh Prime Minister?” It was Steve again. Maybe a more suitable explanation should be used for him, he was a smart guy who loved to antagonize people. Darcy knew this and although he did not want to criticize the press (that would finish his career - he was sure that they could make up some scandal or other. Probably with a call-girl. Or a call-boy. It depended on whether they were being particularly cruel that day.) he did not want to be branded a misogynist either. So he compromised.

“Quite,” he offered a slight smile at this, saying to Steve 'thanks for that'. Steve raised his eye-brows in return. Only then did Darcy realize what he had said. Tomorrow, during Prime Minister's Questions, they were going to kill him. Slowly and painfully.

“Next question.”

“How do you feel about America's resistance to compromise?” Finally, something sensible.

The rest of the press conference hadn't gone much better. Questions about France, the United States, oil prices. Sometimes things were just tedious. The next morning the memory didn't get any better. He woke up, showered and got dressed before plodding downstairs and meeting a sea of tired faces.

“What's happened?”

The comment about women had happened. As usual Downing Street had all the newspapers so they could cover every story, every leak. Now on the Cabinet table, all Darcy could see were pictures of him smirking with different headlines. His favourite was “Darce the Arse.” Hmm. Who knew the headline writer's vocabulary was so large and varied. He was berating himself for making that stupid comment about women. If only he'd have said that women MPs were the best thing since sliced bread. Then he probably would have the same headline, same picture only the story that he was criticizing male MPs. Darcy hated being in the public eye. If only one could run the country in secret. Could be a viable option. Then again the media would probably turn it into some dreadful reality show: Who's the PM? Vote A if you think it's Darcy, Vote B if you think it's Bingley, Vote C if it's a bloody chimpanzee! He wondered if he could ban those shows as well.

“I can't believe what you said you bloody w*****!” Willoughby came bursting into the room, his face crimson with rage and exercise. Darcy was surprised. He would have put money on it that he would come in full to the brim with joy. Maybe he had been wrong about Willoughby. “You could cost us all our jobs! Why didn't you just stick with the foreign policies and the talks yesterday? Get Elliot away and allow us to stay in government!”

“John I think that you've said quite enough. That was totally inappropriate. In case you have forgotten, William is our Prime Minister. He deserves your respect!”

Willoughby seemed taken aback by Anne's outburst but continued anyway, “What he's our leader? He's not a bloody President. Ever heard of the phrase 'primus inter pares'? Probably not.”

“Actually John I studied Latin at university. It means 'first among equals'. And before you say anything William is. He always consults us and, unlike you, doesn't have a burning desire to sleep with every attractive woman in the world.”

Will felt the guilt creep in there. He wondered what Anne would say if she knew that he had had a one night stand with an extremely attractive woman last night. He wondered what Lizzy had thought when she woke up to find that no-one was there beside her. She must have felt so used. Then again she probably had loads of one night stands. Those girls always go for any man. Yet deep down inside himself he knew, as he knew that Labour was his political enemy and that the Liberal Democrats would never get into power in his life-time, that she wasn't that type of a girl. She seemed innocent. Somehow. More than likely she hated him now. He felt a twinge of pain inside him and pushed it aside in favour of watching the highly amusing sight of charmer John Willoughby being taken down a peg or two by the meek and quiet Anne Elliot.

Wonders would never cease.

A while later he made his way towards the House of Commons and into the chamber. All the seats were full and he could glimpse other MPs squashed round the entrances, hoping to see and hear the PM. He sat down beside Willoughby and Charles and took a deep breath. He always hated these things as they tended to raise hairy issues and generally lasted far too long for his own liking. Charles was humming some pop song under his breath. It was very irritating. The song that is, not the humming. So he decided to put an end to the ridiculous alleged melody and asked Charles quietly about the night before.

“It was brilliant, wasn't it Darce? I met this angel. Blonde, young and really pretty.”

“I know. I saw you.”

“With Jane? That's her name you know, Jane Bennet.”

Bennet? Bennet? Oh don't let her be anything to do with Lizzy. Please.

“Nice name,” suddenly Darcy's voice cracked as his throat became dry. For the life of him he didn't know why though. “Did anything happen?”

“Happen? No. I wouldn't do that to a woman that I'm interested in. Really interested. Not just for a one time use. I can feel it, she's special. She's a primary school teacher you know.” Darcy's mind was all a-whirl. Bingley, the consummate flirt, had just said that if he was seriously thinking about a woman then sleeping with her at the start wasn't a good idea. Darcy had known this but Charles' cheerfulness undermined the misery he felt as a result of abandoning Lizzy. Perhaps he could sneak out again and apologize profusely to her before she slapped him for his rakish behaviour. “You wouldn't do anything like that, would you Darcy?”

He stumbled over his words. “No. No. Of course not.”

“No. Couldn't imagine you as a primary school teacher.”

“What?” Darcy spluttered. Primary school teacher? What the-

Before he could finish his thought the speaker announced that they would begin. The first question was from a balding man whose suit looked like it had last been worn in the seventies. Doug Rowden. Labour. Very Labour. Verging on Socialism, Labour.

“Does the Prime Minister feel that his economic policies, particularly the tax system, are too hard on the poor and that he is just appeasing his rich friends at the expense of the working class?” Claps and jeers filled the chamber as Rowden sat down and Darcy rose. Honestly, sometimes this place is a pantomime.

“No I do not feel that our tax system, nor any of the economic policies which this government has implemented, are targeted at one particular range. Nor do I feel that I discriminate against the working class in favour of the upper ones. Every citizen should be equal. Perhaps you should spend time not being a hypocrite and realize that everyone's the same. You're criticizing me for, allegedly, not caring for the working classes and supporting the upper echelons of society, while you do exactly the reverse. Please look at the facts before you argue with me again.” This garnered a massive round of cheers and boos as Darcy sat down again. Most of the other questions followed in the same vein with the exception being about the size of hedges in an MPs constituency. That was a nice break.

After one particularly raucous response to his words he sat back down beside Bingley who congratulated him on his answer. A mixture of the applause and Charles' chat meant that he did not hear who was to ask him a question next. The noise died down as the person got up and Darcy had to search before one of his friends in the row behind told him that the speaker was in the Labour seats at the top left. Darcy turned his head. However before he could see who it was he heard a voice.

“Surely the Prime Minister must admit that his views on female MPs are utterly despicable and that what he meant to say yesterday was that women are for bedding one time only and that it is a practice which he admires.” Everyone actually gasped at the audacity of the MP. No one had dared to comment on the PM's private life like that.

However Darcy was not thinking clearly at all. He had recognized the voice but he had told himself that he was imagining things. It couldn't possibly be who he thought it was. Then he had looked at her and saw that it was her and could not believe it. He listened to her comment. He shuddered at her words.

For there in front of him stood a stony faced Lizzy Bennet.

Explanatory notes:

The Liberal Democrats (or Lib. Dems. As they are more generally referred to as) are the third political party in UK politics. They haven't been in power since the 1920s. The Cabinet is a group of around 25 ministers who meet to discuss policies etc. The main jobs in it are PM, Chancellor of the Exchequer, Foreign Secretary and Home Secretary. Prime Minister's Questions is a weekly event when MPs get to ask the PM what they want. This is normally a very loud event and the sharp witted-ness of the politicians, especially the leaders, is put to the test as they have to be alert and know exactly what the government is doing, their policies etc. This is broadcast on television.

Chapter Three

Posted on Tuesday, 18 October 2005

“Surely the Prime Minister must admit that his views on female MPs are utterly despicable and that what he meant to say yesterday was that women are for bedding one time only and that it is a practice which he admires.”

Oh No.

This was definitely not happening.

No.

It was a figment of his imagination.

No.

Soon he realized that he would have to respond to her before he made himself look like a complete fool. But what was he going to say? 'Look I'm sorry I used you hope you do well in politics'? That would go down extremely well in the Commons. Already as he looked around him he could see that Willoughby was smiling - no doubt he was relishing this opportunity to humiliate his rival. This would be one thing due to one stupid comment that he wouldn't live down. Brilliant. Absolutely bloody brilliant. As he rose he wasn't sure if his legs would hold him but luckily he came to the table with remarkably little hardship or embarrassment. Speaking of that, his face was probably entirely crimson by now. How the press would laugh.

“My honourable friend I am astonished by your question. The comment that I made yesterday about women was terrible and I fully admit that. However your accusations are unjustified. I have the utmost respect for women and would never treat them in such a way.” He saw the disbelief on her face and more than anything he wanted her to understand that he had not discarded her, that he felt that last night was a miraculous thing which would never be equaled and that he wanted to know more about her. Who her family were, what she liked doing, why she got into politics. “I apologize if I caused you any offence. Believe me I did not mean to.”

It was over. Thank the merciful Lord that the ordeal was over. He tried not to stare at her, he really did. However his eyes kept straying towards her and all he could think of was that she looked as good in a suit as she did in the dress she had been wearing the previous night. No! You mustn't think like that! She probably hates you. Definitely does by the look on her face. And so Darcy was left in a fit of melancholy for the rest of PMQs and when it was over he believed that he had managed to give half decent answers to the other questions and fought off the taunting of the leader of the Opposition Edmund Bertram - or Ed as his PR team said that he preferred to be addressed as. Honestly that man was as sanctimonious as he was pious. Darcy really couldn't understand how a man who had attended Eton and Cambridge - like he had himself - could then launch a vehement attack on some of the Tory MPs because of their upper-class background.

As Darcy came out of the chamber he saw that Bertram was talking to Lizzy - Elizabeth - and she was laughing at one of his jokes. Instantly Darcy became jealous. Why was she laughing at him? Did she like him? Were they having an affair? At the last thought Darcy mentally kicked himself as he knew for certain that Lizzy had not slept with her leader before. Anyway, why should it matter to him what - or who - she did? Stop it right now! She looked up at him as he passed and he couldn't even discern a flicker of expression on her face, it was neither hate nor embarrassment nor anything else he could identify. Perhaps she really didn't care about his actions. Maybe she was one of those politicians whose life revolved around their job and everything else was irrelevant. He was one of those politicians!

Willoughby came up beside him and patted him on the shoulder rather roughly. “Whatever did you do Darce?”

“Darcy to you.”

“Bingley calls you Darce.”

“Charles is my friend. You aren't.” Willoughby chortled and seemed genuinely impressed with Darcy's reply.

“Very good. Now what was the lovely Lizzy Bennet angry about?”

“Elizabeth,” Darcy automatically corrected the Chancellor and then realized that sticking up for the opposition - and a critic - was going to seem extremely suspicious. Willoughby picked up on Darcy's anger and started to torment him.

“All that stuff about you believing that women are only good to sleep for then dump was brilliant. She's going to have a bright career ahead of her.” He leaned in and leered across at Lizzy who was talking with another of her colleagues. A woman Darcy noted with joy. “All she needs to do is apply what she thinks you think and she'll be on top in no time. Wonder who'll be on the bottom?” The suggestiveness in that comment made Darcy finally snap. He grabbed Willoughby by the collar, pulled him close then shoved him up against the wall.

“How dare you say that about her! She is an amazing woman!”

“And how would you know about that?” Willoughby gasped. “How about the fact that you and Bingley disappeared last night and that although he returned in the early hours you did not make an appearance until morning? Were you with that slut?”

“Shut up now!”

“Oooh I might just get the tight-a***d Darcy to swear! That would be an achievement. Did you make her swear last night?”

That was the final straw. Darcy's fist connected with Willoughby's face and the latter fell down slightly but slumped against the wall. His face was strained and contorted. “You'll get what's coming to you.” Unfortunately for the Chancellor there was no press loitering around as they were heading towards the MPs offices. Darcy took advantage of this to edge nearer to the other man.

“You ever, and I mean ever talk about Lizzy that way again and your political career is finished.”

Willoughby stood up straight and when he reached his full height he matched Darcy's. The two men stared at each other before Willoughby had to look away and proceeded to slink down the corridors. Darcy gazed at him until he was out of sight. Suddenly he became aware of a presence behind him. Thinking it was Charles or Anne he turned round with something resembling a smile. However when he saw who it was and the smile disappeared.

“Lizzy.” He took her appearance in and attempted to memorize the exact expression of her eyes at that moment. She was so beautiful and Darcy immediately scolded himself for leaving her that morning. What was that - tenth time that morning? She just gazed at him, her eyes a mixture of admiration and uncertainty. It was with great hesitance that she spoke. Her voice was nothing like it was in the House of Commons.

“Hello Prime Minister.”

“Call me Will.”

“So you weren't lying to me last night then? You probably thought it would be a great joke to bed the opposition.”

“No such thought entered my head. I didn't know who you were. Didn't you know who I was?” Then he got to thinking. She should have known that he was the Prime Minister - she probably had known. That left Darcy with the terrible conclusion that she had slept with him for purely political reasons and a fabulous kiss and tell story should her career go down the pan.

“I was drunk. It had been a hard day.” Immediately Darcy was concerned about her and angry at whoever had made her suffer then as he remembered what she said he grew curious. He probably shouldn't have said what he did then but he couldn't help it.

“So are you saying that you slept with me because you were drunk? Wouldn't you have done so otherwise?”

“I would have noticed that you were the PM if I had been sober. Note to self: Lizzy and alcohol don't mix. Really should learn that.” She put a hand to her head and sighed. Darcy felt guilty about bringing up her drinking, obviously things had gone wrong in the past. “At my eighteenth birthday party my friends and I went out to the pub down the road - novelty and all that - and I got completely..well let's just say that it wasn't a pleasant experience.” He wanted to know more but feared that it was too early in their relationship - Hang on, relationship - to divulge such information. “It sounds like some trashy romance novel doesn't it? From opposite sides of some sort of divide, forbidden love and all that. Not that we have love for each other or that we would you know but metaphorically speaking,” she was babbling. A quality which Darcy found was endearing in her. A soft smile curved his lips upwards and when she glanced up at him she stopped. “Sorry. I didn't mean to- You know I'm really different with politics. That I can get right.”

“No, I wasn't making fun of you. It's nice to see someone who hasn't got a God-complex.”

“Like that jerk Willoughby?” They began to walk down the corridor which said man had recently passed through and Darcy was actually embarrassed at his colleague's behaviour.

“I'm sorry about him. Did you hear everything he said?”

“Pretty much. Arrogant git.” Darcy smiled at Lizzy's choice of words. It was something that he had called John before. “And...And I just wanted to thank you for sticking up for me. Despite what you said about women,” she glanced teasingly up at him. He groaned.

“Did you have to ask me that in the Commons?”

“Actually I had thought up a question about your alliance with certain countries but I thought that the other one would add some comic relief into parliament. Needs it sometimes.”

“Well thanks.”

She stopped and abruptly he stopped as well. Suddenly the serious expression was back on her face. “I'm still angry with you, you know. When I woke up this morning you were gone and you didn't say anything. I believed that I was just a one-night-stand and that you had already forgotten me. It..well it really hurt. All I could think was that you were gone and I had been so stupid to...you were my...”

“Your first. I know.”

“What sort of a woman loses it with a complete stranger? Or Prime Minister in disguise?” She was very distressed and was deeply concerned that he would think badly of her. If anything it was the opposite. Darcy admired her for being brave enough to bring such a subject up - it was something he would never have done - and was still smiting about then fact that she was angry with him, but that could be expected.

“Don't have any regrets Lizzy. You're too young. What are you..25?”

“Twenty one actually.”

“Twenty one?” He gasped. She was not twenty one. He was thirty four for heaven's sake.

“Yep. Youngest MP ever. Quite an achievement, or so I'm told by everyone I meet. It's getting kind of annoying.”

“Believe me they'll soon forget about it. They always do. Something always pops up to take the attention away.” He was offering her some advice, having been in the same position when he was elected an MP at twenty five, a member of the shadow cabinet at twenty eight, leader of the Conservative party at thirty and Prime Minister at thirty one. Quite a career. He wondered if she would reach the same levels of power as he had. Probably.

“Nothing cannot be forgotten I suppose. I just wish the whole thing happened quicker. You don't suppose you could invent an oil crisis in the Middle East to deflect the attention from me? And by the way, I'm totally against that kind of thing. Just for future knowledge.”

They had reached what Darcy saw was her office and he knew that it was time to say good-bye. However as she lingered outside the door and he stood his ground they both realized that they were trying to spend as much time with the other as possible. But of course they would never admit it to each other.

“Right then so ah, what are you doing this evening?”

“Asking me out on a date Mr Prime Minister?” She asked him coyly. He reddened and quickly and ineloquently attempted to explain himself.

“It wasn't.. That is I didn't mean to... I didn't want to cause any offence.”

She laughed. “Don't worry Will. I'm just winding you up. Anyway I do have plans.” She must have seen his look of disappointment because she continued with amusement in her voice, “MY sister and I have to go and visit our parents. It's like annually so I must forbear and go but honestly my mother could try the patience of a saint.”

“Know the feeling.”

“Well I'll see you when I see you. Have a nice week. Bye.” She walked into her office and Darcy knew that it wouldn't be acceptable for him to be seen staring in at the windows of a Labour MPs office, or any MPs for that matter. So he hurried towards his quarters and then ran into Bingley in the hall.

“Darce I've made a decision.”

“What? You've finally decided to get rid of those menthol cigarettes?” Darcy realized that this was too much to hope for but it was still disappointing when Charles answered in the negative. “What is it then?”

“Well I've been talking with Caroline and Louisa and I've come to the conclusion that I need somewhere to rest. Properly rest you know like blazing fires and all that. Well anyway, I searched the properties available on the Internet and I found one that I love. It's nothing like Pemberley of course but it'll suit me.”

“Where is it?” Darcy fully expected it to be in the middle of nowhere but was pleasantly surprised when he recognized some of the place names.

“It's in Hertfordshire near Meryton, which is a lovely quaint little village. The house itself is set in wonderful grounds and there are stables and even a lake! I can't wait to get myself into country life. And of course as you are my best friend you must be the first guest I have - although you're more like family to me.” Darcy was touched at Bingley's sentiment but before he could thank his friend properly Charles continued in his own merry way. “There's only one problem.”

“What's that?” Darcy looked up and found that the other man was smiling in jest.

“It's in a Labour constituency. I wonder if they're related?”

“Pardon?”

“Well you remember I told you about Jane?”

“Yes. How could I forget?”

“Well the Labour MP's got the same surname. She's called Elizabeth Bennet.”

Chapter Four

Posted on Thursday, 27 October 2005,

Bingley had traveled down to Netherfield and even Darcy had to admit that the house was magnificent. However Darcy got himself out of that particular area of the country as soon as he could due to an irrational anxiety about seeing Lizzy. She'd been strangely absent in the past couple of weeks: he hadn't seen her in the Commons or in the MPs offices and not for lack of trying. Where was she? He had the sneaking suspicion that if he was to investigate around Meryton and Longbourn he would be able to find her quite easily. Meryton seemed to be a place where everyone knew everyone else and their business, which Darcy didn't like. He had always been a private man and although he was forced to endure the paparazzi he hated the fact that everyone knew his business. In fact just after he had first been elected some fool had been stupid enough to follow him on holiday. The result had been that unfortunate photograph of himself and Caroline Bingley which had been splashed over all the tabloids (and to Darcy's utmost shame, some of the broadsheets). For years there had been persistent rumours that he and Caroline were having some sort of passionate affair or that he was secretly married to her. As a result Caroline had made not so subtle hints about 'furthering their relationship'. What relationship? As far as Darcy was aware he had never had any sort of relationship with Caroline 'fashion disaster' Bingley.

“Darce what do you think of it? Isn't it utterly delightful!” Charles was beaming literally from ear to ear. He had no idea a man's mouth could smile that much. Darcy looked out of the car window as they traveled along the motorway and sighed.

“It seems like a pleasant enough place to me Bingley. However it is not my choice, remember it is you who will be living there.”

“I like it exceedingly! And what's more I have reason to believe that Jane does live here.”

“Really?” Darcy attempted to remain unaffected as thoughts of Jane Bennet led to fantasies about Lizzy. It didn't seem to be very successful as even Bingley realized something was affecting his friend's concentration. That was unusual.

“Yes. I got that work experience girl to look it up.”

“Charles really! She's meant to be here learning about government and not doing your work.”

“I suppose but anyway I..I mean Marianne found some information on her. She works in London and is the eldest of five children - all girls! Imagine!”

“Quite.” Darcy intoned drolly. His friend didn't notice, or if he did chose to ignore it.

“And her parents and three younger sisters live in a house called Longbourn.”

“What a co-incidence Bingley. Barely three miles away.”

“And her sister is Elizabeth Bennet. Looks like I'm in Labour country now!”

“Something which will soon be remedied at the next general election I hope.”

“Oh certainly! I mean Elton was a bit of a wimp so we can hardly be surprised at Miss Bennet's victory.”

Of course it hadn't been a surprise that Elton lost. He had been pompous and arrogant and self-centered that he had come a measly fourth to Labour, the Lib Dems and even some Independent candidate. Lady Catherine de Bourgh, Darcy's aunt, was responsible for that mistake as Elton had been one of her little minions who were tolerated by her but loathed but everyone else. Of late Lady Catherine had been mentioning a William Collins. Heaven knows what he would be like!

“I must say,” Bingley continued, “that Elizabeth Bennet is a very intelligent person and very charismatic as well. In fact from what I've heard she is as dedicated to her work as you are.” All these comments made it sound like Charles was trying to fix Elizabeth and Darcy together but instead it was only his way of flattering Jane. The man has it bad! Even when she's not here all he thinks of is her. Darcy talked to himself. The next thought came unbidden, Just like you do with Lizzy. He was starting to get withdrawal symptoms from not seeing this marvelous woman and he could only hope that she would come back soon.

Or else he might be pressured into going out with Caroline. That sent a shudder down his spine.

“Bingley have you got that report?”

“Which one?”

Darcy shook his head in disbelief. How could such a top ranking politician be so scatter-brained? He briefly looked at his friend before turning back to the window. Today was a good day.

There wasn't too much paparazzi.

However the security car following him was not as confident as Darcy was. There had been a red car following them from London to Hertfordshire and now it was on their tail again. As they were about to radio for assistance the car turned off the motorway. The risk seemed eliminated. For now.

Several months later

It was the end of the parliamentary year and Darcy was off to enjoy his holiday. Or so Charles said. Darcy wanted nothing more than to retire to his own house in Derbyshire and spend the summer with his sister, however that was not to be the case. Georgiana was in France on a school trip, Charles had basically forced him to come and to top everything off he was to spend numerous months in the same house as Caroline, Caroline's sister Louisa and her drunkard of a husband Hamilton Hurst. Strange name. Then again Fitzwilliam Darcy wasn't such a normal one either.

Now he was stuck in his chauffeur driven car with Caroline. Bingley had taken his other sister and brother-in-law in his own car. The other occupant of the car was completely unaware to his distress, instead focusing on the good luck she had to be sharing a car with the most eligible bachelor in the UK. She only hoped that her dress was orange enough and short enough to capture his attention. Darcy, on the other hand, was blatantly ignoring Caroline as much as he could without being rude, he wished that she had developed a sudden case of amnesia and had forgotten about that awful kiss four years ago. As she wetted her lips and leaned forward it was evident that she hadn't.

“Will darling, look at the opportunity we have now. We're all alone with no cameras, no journalists, no one to bother us. Think of what we could be doing.”

“I am sorry Caroline but you are mistaken. There are cameras and journalists trailing us and I am sure that they do wish to bother us. However if it was not the case I would happily take a look at the sights.”

“Pardon?” Caroline didn't quite understand what he was saying and Darcy remembered that sarcasm was lost on her - or any kind of humour which did not involve public ridiculing.

“I believe that there are several landmarks around here. Perhaps Charles and I will check it out.”

“Will,” Caroline ignored what he had just said and moved closer to him. Her arm was now circled around his and she was so close that he could feel her breath on his cheek. It was not an experience he wanted to continue. He withdrew his arm and moved as far away from her as he could. Unfortunately this did not deter her.

“Caroline I think we're here-”

“Well we can continue this somewhere private now.”

“Do you approve of you brother's house?”

“Well it's hardly Pemberley but one must put up with all life's disappointments.” She had still not looked at the house, more focused on him than anything or anyone else. It was only when the driver came to open the car door did she back away from him. Eventually she caught sight of the house. “Oh it is even more country than I thought. Oh Charles! Whatever will I do?”

However as she gazed around in search of Darcy he had already wandered off somewhere to escape from her.

Darcy was relived that he had gotten away from Caroline. She was a predator plain and simple - all artificial and tacky - and only served to make Lizzy appear in a better light. Lizzy who was so beautiful and natural and...

Standing right in front of him.

“Lizzy!”

“Will!” Darcy couldn't tear his eyes away from her and she seemed entranced also. Then he heard another voice speak and that made him aware that they were not the only two people in the world and that staring at her in such a manner was excessively stupid.

“Auntie Lizzy! Auntie Lizzy!” There was a little girl clinging onto her arm and Lizzy momentarily looked away from Darcy so that she could see what was the matter with her niece.

“Yes Jasmine?”

“Mommy's home!”

“Do you want to go and see her?”

“Yes Auntie Lizzy!” Jasmine mustn't have been over three years old, her hair was long, dark and in messy plaits. She looked so much like Elizabeth that if Darcy hadn't have known otherwise he would have presumed that Jasmine was Lizzy's daughter.

“Good-bye Will.”

“Bye.”

They went on ahead and Darcy was resigned to only getting one glimpse of her. However he heard foot-steps behind him and whirled around. It was Lizzy. She was running back to him and for one strange moment he felt like he was at the end of one of those cheesy romantic comedies, waiting for the love of his life to come back to him. Soon he realized that this was reality. After all there was no boy band music playing miraculously all around him.

“Will!” She was slightly out of breath but not tired out. “You're coming to the dance tonight, aren't you?”

“Well Bingley's said something about it yes but I had not made up my mind.” Until now.

“You should come. It'd be good to see you there.”

He was touched at her statement, “Thank you. That means a lot.”

“Just you know, wear a disguise.”

“Pardon?” Was she serious?

“If people find out that Mr Prime Minister is here then heaven help you.”

“Why?” Maybe because of scheming mamas.

“Because the majority hate sleaze.”

“Lizzy!”

“God I'm not trying to say that you are,” She held her hand over her mouth and he saw her forehead wrinkle slightly - in worry or laughter. He couldn't tell which.

“I'd certainly hope not!”

“What I was trying to say was that this is my turf now.” A smile was teasing the edge of her lips and it was infectious. Darcy attempted to suppress one. Without much success. Lizzy's face suddenly became more somber.

“What's the matter?”

She shook her head slowly. “Nothing. It's just..You have the cutest smile.” He felt himself blush and she glanced down at the ground - unable to make eye-contact. “I like dimples in a man.”

“Thanks.” Her last comment had been teasing and he felt compelled to use up some of his plenteous store of sarcasm. She was just walking backwards away before turning and quickening her pace to a jog. She wasn't wearing any shoes. Darcy surmised that it was a hot day and they were walking on grass but still! Who knew what kind of things she could pick up from it. As he walked away back to Netherfield via the most scenic route he could find, he saw a pair of sandals discarded on the path. He peered at them for a little while before smirking and picking them up. At least this would give him a valid excuse to see her again.

He approached Netherfield and thankfully the vultures and the drunk were absent. Only Charles remained leaning back on his car. He seemed perfectly peaceful and Darcy knew that no matter what he said or how much Charles' sisters complained, this was the right place for him.

“Darcy! Where have you been?”

“Just went for a walk Charles.”

“Why are you carrying a pair of woman's shoes?”

“It doesn't matter.” He clapped Charles on the back and together they went inside. “Charles, you were talking of some sort of a dance earlier...”

Chapter Five

Posted on Thursday, 3 November 2005

Darcy couldn't believe that he was going to some country party with Charles, the sisters and a pair of women's shoes. Lizzy had suggested wearing some sort of disguise but for the life of him he couldn't think if one, well he had thought of dressing up as Margaret Thatcher but if the press got hold of that one... Finally he decided to give up and not wear a disguise. He heard a knock at the door.

“Come in!” He sincerely wished that it wasn't Caroline.

“Are you ready Darcy?” Fortunately it was Charles and not his sister. He stared at the shoes which Darcy had left on the bed. “Why have you got those shoes on your bed? You're not hiding anything from me are you?”

“Of course not Bingley. Right, shall we go?”

Thankfully the traveling arrangements had changed significantly. As Darcy's driver had been given the night off there was now only the one car with a chauffeur. As Darcy knew that Caroline would not demean herself to arrive at a party (no matter how common) without style or proof of her brother's wealth, he offered to drive as he was the only one who hadn't drunk anything. As usual Hurst was inebriated, Charles would never dream to drink and drive, and Louisa could not drive because she had never attempted to learn - such things were for paupers (or so she and her sister claimed). Caroline, as Darcy suspected, had a hard time deciding which car to go in but realizing that her reputation needed to be maintained went with her sister and brother-in-law in the expensive and showy sports car. While they were driving away Darcy could feel a satisfied expression forming on his face. For a merciful half hour he would be rid of the wretched Caroline.

“See Darce, I knew that it was right to give Hampton the night off.”

Darcy smirked at his friend and raised an eyebrow. “Yes, but it would have been kind to inform me prior to going that he was not here.”

“Details, details!”

“Hmmph” Darcy snorted. Charles was far more cunning than his sisters suspected and sometimes Darcy even felt that he underestimated his friend. However Charles was the master of Spin so nobody would ever know. As they got into the Aston Martin Bingley came upon another subject which he was heartily interested in.

Jane Bennet.

“Do you think Jane will be here tonight?”

“I don't know Charles. Maybe.”

“I believe she will be. She said that she loves parties especially when her friends are with her.”

“Did she?” Darcy was concentrating more on getting out of Netherfield's rather tricky entrance/exit and so wasn't paying all that much attention to Charles. Although as the subject was the marvelous, beautiful and heavenly Jane bloody Bennet he assumed that a short phrase here and there would be enough. After all Darcy was convinced that if left to his own devices Bingley could write a sonnet on Jane. Or even a whole Shakespeare-esque play.

He must never leave Bingley to his own devices.

The place where the party was being held turned out to be little more than a basic country pub like those in Lambton. He could already imagine Caroline's expression upon seeing that this was what she would be spending the next few hours at, Darcy guessed that it would be something akin to a bulldog. Or worse because bulldogs did not wear so much orange or cover themselves in rouge. He let out a little chuckle at seeing Charles' car sitting at the very front of the pub and three of the occupants looking very disturbed indeed. Oh tonight would be marvelous!

As he turned to face Charles he found that his friend was already out the door and heading for the dance so he, as a proper friend should - and definitely not because of Elizabeth Bennet, followed. Immediately he heard a car door opening and footsteps running towards him. He didn't even need to look to know that it was Caroline. However had he been in any doubt it would have been clear the next moment.

“Oh William darling! What a horrid place this is! Some awful country thief will try and steal something of mine I'm sure.” She had caught up with him and linked her arm in his. “But you'll protect me my love.” She tried to lean her head on Darcy's shoulder but just as she was nearing success he quickened up and Caroline nearly fell. He could hear the stilettos clattering about now.

Charles was waiting rather impatiently for the rest of the group inside the pub door. “How long will it take my sisters to catch up?” He sounded annoyed which for Charles Bingley was extremely unusual. “Do you think we can go on without them Darce?”

“More than likely but unfortunately if we did that we would have to listen to your sisters complain all night and the rest of the week about the indignities of being left to go somewhere on their own.”

“Oh.”

Soon the rest had caught up and Bingley tore off down the hall before opening the door. All the sound which had come from the room before their entrance was now completely absent. Everyone turned to look at who had just come in and there was a collective gasp as they recognized the Deputy PM and the PM himself. This was why Darcy rarely went to social events. Everyone looked at him. Then a man approached them. He was in his fifties and evidently had enough money to buy plenty of food. There was a smile on his face to rival Bingley's.

“Oh Mr Bingley I'm so pleased to meet you again.”

“I'm pleased to see you too Sir William. And please, call me Charles.” Sir William put his hand out and Bingley shook it.

“Oh Charles call me Lucas just. Everyone else does. We don't stand upon ceremony here.” Then he noticed Darcy hovering in the background. This time his tone was more deferential. “Oh Mr Darcy how good it is to see you. You seem to be doing a good job!”

“Thank you.” There was silence again until a female voice broke it.

“Well Lizzy's better than him! She'll be the first female Prime Minister and then maybe she'll finally get some.” The girl stopped abruptly and from the exclamation of pain afterwards it was clear that someone had hit her to shut her up. Darcy was astounded. That girl knew nothing about politics. Nothing! Good God she hadn't even heard of Mrs Thatcher. And that comment about Lizzy. Well let's just say that Darcy was extremely glad the lights were so dim.

The DJ started the music again and Darcy realized with a groan that it was some awful dance music! Honestly it gave him a headache. When he glanced in Charles' direction he saw that his friend was being led off by Sir William. Above the din Darcy could make out Bingley asking him whether Jane Bennet was here tonight. All Darcy could do was shake his head.

A little later he saw Bingley chatting with some people although he couldn't see there faces. He went over to investigate. There was a middle-aged woman there with two younger ones. As Darcy came closer he saw that Lizzy was one of them! His heart gave a painful thud and began thundering in his chest. His breathing sped up and it was all he could do to maintain a relatively calm expression.

“Oh Charlie I'm sure that you and Jane would be a lovely couple! Don't you Lizzy?”

“Well mama-” She was interrupted and Darcy heard her give a little sigh.

“You are both so handsome. Jane's very beautiful isn't she? I certainly think so and so does everyone else here. Much better than that spinster Charlotte Lucas I tell you!” The mother's praises of her daughter envied Charles'.

“Mum Charlotte's not a spinster.”

“She's nearly thirty and is not married! She is spinster!”

“I don't believe that marriage is so very important. It's just a piece of paper after all.”

“Lizzy!” Mrs Bennet seemed outraged at Lizzy's comments and Darcy could not help but smile.

“Well if you think about it, one in three marriages end in divorce and it would be a lot cheaper to separate without having that bit of paper.”

“Lizzy!” It appeared that Mrs Bennet was in such a state of shock at her daughter's words that the only thing in her vocabulary was her name.

“Oh mum you know I'm only teasing you. I do-” She paused and Darcy realized that she had seen him behind Charles. She looked down at her feet for a moment before raising her eyes to meet his. “Love you.”

“I know you love me Lizzy but at times you are so...Oh Mr Darcy! How lovely to see you here.”

“Oh Darcy this is Jane Bennet!”

Darcy sincerely doubted that this middle-aged woman was the 'angel' that Bingley had been waffling on about for months. “Oh yes my daughter is wonderful isn't she Mr Darcy!” It seemed that there was no stopping Mrs Bennet in her praise.

“Indeed she is Mrs Bennet.” It was not Jane Bennet that Darcy was describing.

“Do you want to dance Jane?”

“Yes thank you Charles.”

That left only Darcy, Mrs Bennet and Lizzy. “Mr Darcy you've met my other daughter Lizzy haven't you? She's in the government too.”

“I'm in the Opposition mum.”

“Well that's nearly the same thing.”

Apparently Lizzy had decided that it was impossible to try and inform her mother other-wise. Darcy decided to make some input into the conversation. He really wanted to speak to Lizzy again and this time nothing would stop him. He drew nearer to her and Mrs Bennet took the bait.

“Do you want to dance with Lizzy Mr Darcy?” Lizzy blushed and could not meet Darcy's eyes. Darcy in turn was furious with Mrs Bennet. Of course he wanted to dance with her daughter but his pride would allow him to follow her blatant attempts at gold-digging match-making. Damn her! He was trying to think of a way in which he would not offend Elizabeth by refusing to dance with her. This was crucial. Then his thought process was interrupted by Elizabeth herself.

“I'm too tired mother. I apologize Wil- Mr Darcy.” He watched her as she walked away to another girl in the room and Mrs Bennet let out a groan. However Darcy did not stay to listen to her apologies. He unconsciously drew nearer to Lizzy and was just unable to hear her conversation. Then Caroline Bingley approached him from behind and latched onto his shoulder. She leaned in and Darcy could smell her perfume and feel her breath on his neck. She clasped his hand and with the other put a glass of whiskey in his hand.

“The only way to survive an evening like this. It's not as good as London's but it'll suffice.”

“Caroline it's probably the same brand. The taste doesn't differ from place to place.”

“Of course it doesn't.” She whispered into his ear and Darcy tried to prevent a chill of disgust from going down his spine. She wouldn't move. Lizzy glanced over at them. She said something to her friend before hurrying past them. Darcy wondered what was the matter. Then it struck him. Caroline was clinging to him like they were married or at least completely loved up. Quickly he ran after Lizzy and didn't care what people would think if they saw him rushing after her.

“Lizzy! Lizzy wait!” He was outside now and he could just make out her figure running round the corner. As he followed her he realized that this place was a beer garden. She was sitting at one of the tables when he caught sight of her again. She had her head in her hands. He slowed down and then sunk into the chair opposite her. They sat in stony silence for what seemed like an eternity to Darcy.

“Are you involved with her?”

“No.”

“Were you?”

“No.”

“She seems very fond of you.”

“I know.” He sighed.

“Have you slept with her?”

“I just told you that I've never been in a relationship with her.”

“Just checking.”

“Don't you believe me?”

She looked up at him and stared him right in the eye. “Sometimes I don't.”

“Lizzy!” He felt his heart sinking. Every instinct told him that she was moving further and further away from him and he was powerless to stop her. Then he remembered something. “Wait there a minute.”

“What?”

“Just wait, please.” He ran to his car and grabbed the bag which he had put on the back-seat earlier on. He went back to Lizzy and hoped that she had stayed.

She had.

“What are you carrying?”

“Look and see.” He handed the bag to her, she opened it and gasped. “You left them on the path.”

“I know. I went back earlier and couldn't find them.”

He held his breath until she began again. “Thank you Will.”

“No problem.” She got up and walked towards him. It was a completely different feeling than Caroline standing close to him. It felt natural and right.

Then without warning she leaned up and kissed him. “Let's get out of here Will.”

And of course the only thing he could do was comply.

Chapter Six

Posted on Thursday, 17 November 2005

Darcy woke up and reveled in the feel of sunlight heating his skin. Of course he didn't need that to help him keep warm, no he had a far more pleasurable way to do that. He moved slightly in the bed and tightened his grip around the body lying beside him. She was amazing. Simply and absolutely amazing. Before he could drift off to sleep again he felt her stir beside him and turn around slowly in his arms. Opening his eyes he gazed down at her contented face and fought back the urge to laugh.

“Good morning.”

“Morning,” she whispered back. She clutched the quilt up to her face and the only thing he could see was her eyes, lovely as always but with a hint of something akin to nervousness.

“What's the matter?”

“Nothing. It's just...This is really happening.”

He smiled at that and his good mood showed in his voice, “Of course it is. Why wouldn't it be?” She looked away from him for a few moments before she stared into his eyes again.

“The first time, when I woke up on my own I was so scared that I'd just imagined what had happened. When I saw you in the Commons I knew that what I had thought had just been a dream was actually real. You'll never know how happy that realization made me.” Her voice, which had started very un-Lizzy like and meek, was now strong and confident as if the recollection had given her more courage and more time to get herself together. Darcy knew that he could proceed two ways - either he could say something very serious in response or he could alleviate some of the tension. He chose the latter option.

“Yes which I take it is the reason that you asked me that absolutely horrid question in front of my friends, enemies and the media?” She knew that he was teasing her.

“Of course. A woman likes to torment her lover!” She was giggling through the last bit and turned her face into the pillow to stifle the laughter. After several minutes of Lizzy's uncontrollable mirth she calmed down and glanced back up at Darcy. Then she looked at the pillow again. Slowly she picked it up and Darcy, realizing what she was going to do, reached for his own. She made the first move but Darcy was able to block it with his pillow. However he wasn't so lucky with the next shot - it hit him on the nose which only served to reduce Lizzy to laughter again.

“Elizabeth Bennet you're not going to get away with that!”

Whenever Darcy remembered that moment the one thing that stuck in his head was how happy she had been. The sounds of giggling and her mock screams filled his ears. And that particular memory could do nothing except make him smile.

A few hours later

Darcy had attempted to make Lizzy breakfast in bed but by the time that he had discovered where she kept the bread she was already dressed and down-stairs. She merely smirked at him and his disastrous attempts at finding anything in her kitchen.

“Having trouble?”

He looked up, exasperated. She saw with great joy that his previously neat and tidy appearance was now ruffled and his hair adorably tousled. “Well if you put things were one would expect them to be then perhaps you would have got breakfast in bed!”

She jumped up and sat on the edge of her table. “Oh you're talking about the bread thing.”

“Well it would make sense to have bread in the bread bin.”

“Instead of chicken I suppose?”

“Exactly!” He threw his hands up into the air and she smiled at him. She could have guessed that he would be a very organized person - she could only imagine what agonies he must have gone through upon finding that the bread was not in the right place!

“Why are you smiling at me? What have I done?” He had become aware of her attention and was becoming increasingly paranoid. Strange though, that he should be uncomfortable under someone's scrutiny: after all he had had camera following him around for the past six/seven years. She shook her head at him before standing back on the floor and walking over to him.

“Nothing Will. It's just..” she trailed off, unusually shy for once. “Do you want to have breakfast for something. Outside my house. I know a really good café just round the corner...” He hesitated and she saw it in his face. “You know never mind, you're busy being Mr PM aren't you? Wouldn't possibly lower yourself to be seen out with an opposition back-bencher!” She began to walk towards the back door and opened it. “Well I'll let you out this way. You won't be seen.” Her voice was full of sarcasm and Darcy understood how much he had hurt her, or offended her, or whatever he had done to make her act this way. Honestly, women!

“Lizzy you're twisting my actions, now listen to me. Of course I want to have breakfast with you, hence the rather awful attempt at making it for you.”

“But you don't want to be in my company, that's it isn't it? Well I must say that last night was fun and all but I'm not going to settle for some secret, seedy affair. If you want a relationship with me then you're going to have to loosen up a bit. Who gives a damn about what others think? In the end what say do they have in our lives? Nothing. And nothing that they say or do matters. So Will, what's it going to be? Me or the public persona?”

“Lizzy you're asking me to potentially jeopardize my political career.” She just gave him a hard look. The room was silent for a moment before Will strode towards the open door. “Well, are you coming or not?”

Darcy never knew that seeing someone like Lizzy smiling would give him so much pleasure. It seemed that nowadays all he wanted to do was please her. He knew that the decision he had made at her house - well it would barely qualify as one but it did have two floors and a bathroom - was a momentous one. And also one that he wasn't going to ponder over for any length of time at this point. It would not do for a man like him to do the unthinkable and unforgivable.

They were strolling down the street to Charlotte's Coffee Shop which, according to Lizzy, served the most delicious coffee ever in existence. Much better than anything you'd find in London. Darcy highly doubted that. What could a small village like this offer him that a thriving city could not? The idea was preposterous. However he wasn't going to tell this to Lizzy who had just about calmed down from earlier.

“So what kind of music do you like?”

“Pardon?”

“I asked you what kind of music you liked Will.” He could see that a smile was on the verge of breaking free.

“Oh. Music.”

“You do listen to it don't you?”

“Of course. And in response to your original question Miss Bennet-”

“That's Jane.” He stared at her in confusion and she realized that he was not in on the family joke. “My granddad, on dad's side of the family, is a big stickler for tradition. For as long as I can remember, Jane has been Miss Bennet and I'm now resigned to being called Miss Elizabeth for the rest of his days.” She gave a mock sigh.

“Not Miss Lizzy?”

“No Mr Darcy. That would be frivolous,” she replied dead-pan. He smirked in response. “I think he was mortified at my being a Labour MP. He's been a life-long Tory.”

“Glad to hear it. Anyway about the music...”

“Yes?”

“The Beatles.”

“Why The Beatles?”

“Well as the Prime Minister of Great Britain and Northern Ireland it is a matter of duty to be a fan of The Beatles. Anything else would be sacrilege.”

She burst our laughing. What a wonderful, magical sound that was! “Well I suppose it fits. Can't quite equate you as a Sex Pistols fan.” He shuddered at the mental image that her comment had triggered. “Although I do think it'd be fun to have a punk Prime Minister. Imagine the remarks.”

“Quite.”

“I like rock music you know. Oasis now there's an amazing band.”

“Please don't tell me that you like those foul mouthed Mancunians. They can't even sing!” She stopped mid-stride and turned to face him, her expression extremely serious.

“William Darcy! Don't you dare insult them! I'm actually astounded. You know if there's ever going to be anything between us then you better get better musical taste. Or else lie a lot.”

“I hate lying.”

“Exactly. God, Will. Get in touch with the younger generation. You might just find that some of them are pleasant to be around.” They started walking again until Lizzy stopped in front of a café. “Here it is. You remember Charlotte from last night? Did you meet her, even?”

Darcy tried to recall the events of the previous night. “Was she the one standing beside you when Caroline decided to make her affections, and I use the word loosely, known? Brown hair? Tall?”

“That's her. She's one of my best friends.”

“And makes the best coffee in the world?”

“You're learning fast. Good.”

Will was relieved to see that the café was empty and that the only member of staff there was the woman who he presumed to be Charlotte. Her face brightened up when she caught sight of Elizabeth and the only sign of surprise she made at seeing Darcy was a slight raising of one eye-brow.

“Hey Lizzy. Hello Mr Darcy.” She remembered his words, or lack thereof, to her father last night and decided to stick to the more formal approach.

“You can call me Will.”

Charlotte merely smiled slightly. “I'm Charlotte. What would you like to drink?”

Will found that he did like Charlotte's coffee and was even forced to admit that it was better than certain places in London. Grudgingly. Charlotte's open nature and honesty was refreshing after spending most of his life in a situation where one had to think on one's feet and where honesty was never really the best policy. Lizzy and he were in the middle of a heated debate about education when his mobile phone went off. He heard her chuckle when she recognized his ring tone. This was his personal phone and as such he had never expected it to ring when he was in an important meeting or press conference. And thank the Lord it hadn't because at that point in time Will's chosen tone was The Sex Pistols' “God Save the Queen”.

“Maybe we have got a punk PM after all.”

Will was deeply annoyed with whoever was on the other end of the phone. “Hello.” His tone was brisk and sharp before it mellowed a bit. “Yes Charles. I understand. I'll be back soon. Bye.” He turned back to Lizzy. “That was Charles. I have to go now. Listen, I'll call you later. Good-bye.” He threw some money down on the table before stomping out of the café.

He was out of the door before Lizzy had time to register what was happening. “But you don't even have my phone number.”

She had been about to get up and talk to Charlotte when another customer came in. He was good-looking, even more than Will was, and he certainly didn't look like a man who would leave her at the drop of a hat. He noticed her observing him and smirked to himself. Slowly he approached the table and sat down where Will had been sitting.

“Nice to meet you. I'm George Wickham.”

Author's note: Okay some things need to be explained I suppose. I presume everyone is aware of The Beatles. Oasis are an amazing northern rock band who produce the best songs ever! If you want to check out some of their work just type 'Oasis - the band' into a search engine. The Sex Pistols were a seventies punk group. The song 'God Save the Queen' was an obvious parody of the National Anthem. It's seen as an anti-monarchy song and has such lines as “God Save the Queen/ The Fascist regime”. Needless to say, I just presume that Will likes the song for the punk-ness of it. Also I do not own any of the aforementioned bands or songs.

Chapter Seven

Posted on Thursday, 22 December 2005

Will was cursing Charles for calling him. Unless nuclear war had been declared then he did not want to know and nor did he care. Things had been going so well with Elizabeth that morning - waking up with her had seemed like an unthinkable amount of bliss. She was extremely beautiful when she'd just woken - like she was at any other time. How am I meant to act like I don't know her at PMQs? Like there's nothing between us? Will knew that both questions didn't have answers at that moment but he would need to think of some. If Willoughby got wind of what had happened between him and Lizzy there would be hell to pay.

As he approached Netherfield he saw many cars parked outside. Then he realized that it was the press - he wondered if they had any reason to be here. Suddenly panic filled his body - what if it was about Georgiana? What if they'd found out about her relationship with the piece of scum? As the journalists became aware of his presence all that filled his mind was flashing cameras and the endless stream of questions which they barraged him with.

“How do you feel about-” The man was cut off in mid-flow when one of Will's bodyguards stepped in front of him. Charles was running towards him - red in the face and panting. Will's face must have told his friend about the confusion he felt for as Charles approached his hand was raised in the air, gesturing for Will to follow him which he duly did.

Soon they were in the relative tranquility of Netherfield again. All Charles did was give Will a look and walked into the study. The former sat down on one of the plush chairs which Caroline had recently bought. The only reason that they were there was because Charles had been trying to hide them from public view. They were absolutely hideous. Will remained standing and for a while neither man spoke. Will, although bursting with curiosity, wanted Charles to speak first but his friend appeared very hesitant to voice whatever it was had happened. The anger mingled with confusion and fear and propelled Will to speak.

“What on earth has happened that you felt the need to drag me away from-” He had been about to say from Lizzy but had thought better of it. “Charles whatever is the matter?”

The younger man took a deep breath and got up, began to walk round the room and eventually came to a stop at Will's side. “I know that it's not true-”

“What's not true?” Will demanded.

“Don't shout.”

“Then tell me.” Charles didn't vocally respond to Will's order but instead he picked up the remote control of the TV that was in the office and turned the television on. Will was about to comment that this was hardly a time for daytime programmes but was prevented from doing so when he saw that Netherfield was on the news. Underneath the live pictures there was the headline “PM in office scandal”.

As much as Will wanted to believe that there had been some miscalculation to do with paper clips or even better that Willoughby had done something awfully embarrassing he knew that to think any of these things would only mean that he was deluding himself. Soon the headline changed and more information was revealed. Will quickly read what had been written before collapsing onto the nearby sofa. As much as he was used to the absurd nature of the press the journalists still managed to surprise him sometimes. This story, for example, was a jewel. For his opponents of course. And for any bloody moral, anti-corruption group in the country.

“How could you even doubt that it was true Charles? You've been my best friend for more than a decade now - have I ever done anything that would even suggest that I would do such a thing?”

“Will I never meant to offend you but you had to know. And I couldn't tell you, you needed to see what the media were making with the story.” After Will didn't say anything else Charles piped up again. “I've got people trying to figure out where the information came from.”

“Information Charles? More like fairy-tale. And there's no point wasting time doing detective work. You and I both know who was responsible.”

“Maybe it wasn't-”

“Charles stop trying to see the best in people. It doesn't suit a politician. Of course it was Willoughby's doing.”

At that moment they heard an interview being carried out at the news centre's studio. Turning round to see Will was sadly not shocked to see that the interviewee was one Lucy Steele. Charles made a move to turn it off but Will stopped him. “No. We need to listen.”

“I'm now joined by Lucy Steele. She was previously an assistant to Edward Ferrars, Minister for Education. Lucy it's a pleasure to meet you. Now first thing's first, how did you find your experience at Westminster?”

The short, extremely attractive woman began to speak in a very melancholic voice which to Darcy's ears was completely false. “Well Steve, for the most part I enjoyed it immensely. Edward was very nice and sympathetic - the ideal boss, and for two years I worked away quietly and peacefully there.”

“And then what happened?”

“Well the Prime Minister came into Edward's office one day while Edward was absent. I told him that but to my astonishment he replied that he knew that. I asked him what he meant,” At this point tears started to form in Lucy's eyes. She really was a wonderful actress. “He said that he had come to the office to see me. He.....” she choked on a sob, and found herself unable to speak again. Really she deserved an Oscar!

“It's alright Lucy. Take as long as you want.” There was a barely discernible 'thank you' from the woman before she accepted a tissue from one of the production crew and wiped the crocodile tears away. Her mascara had not even smudged.

“He advanced on me and told me that I looked absolutely r-ravishing. I tried to get away, I really did but he held me in place. I couldn't run like I wanted to as my desk was behind me and the PM in front of me. I was t-t-terrified and I began to cry but he just sniggered and said that no matter how much I whimpered it would make no difference. In fact......In fact.....Oh I'm sorry. In fact he was getting very,” she paused for dramatic effect, “excited. I was so sure of what he was going to do to me that I gave up struggling and his hands crawled over me. I was disgusted and sickened. I mean how can a man who is supposed to be everyone's protector do something like that? Anyway at that point I heard the door opening and to my delight I saw that it was John Willoughby. He tore Mr Darcy off me and shoved him out the door. Then he took me in his arms and comforted me while I wept.” At this point the tears began anew. Will was staring at her in disbelief. How could she make up something like that? He'd never liked her, had always thought that there had been something suspicious about her but never in his wildest imaginings believed her to contain as much malice and poison as she had shown she had. “The only thing I can say is I know how Marianne Dashwood feels. To be so helpless like that - its worse than anything. I would like to commend her on how she's dealing with this. She's a lot braver than I am - and many other female MPs and secretaries.”

“What is it that you are saying Miss Steele?”

“I'm saying that I believe that there are copious amounts of women whom the Prime Minister has had his way with. I know for a fact that Anne Elliot is very close to him - more than just a platonic closeness. And there have even been rumours in Westminster that he has been the same brute to Frances Price, Edmund Bertram's close friend, as to me.”

“Thank you for that Lucy. I'm sure that it cost you a lot to do it.”

“It did. I only hope that my disclosure will make other women come forward. We cannot let Mr Darcy get away with this any longer.”

Thus the interview ended.

All Darcy could do was stare at Charles in shock. His friend too was completely lost for words. It was clear now.

This was war.

Only the devil could save Willoughby now.

Lizzy was completely unaware of these developments. Her mind was focused on two things. The first that Will Darcy could be an absolute enigma at times, and the second that George Wickham - who she was currently conversing with - was a complete charmer.

“And so I told the President - “you can't do that! What about the rights of the people?”. Of course he didn't want to know: I am after all only a lowly reporter.” Lizzy was nodding silently with George's words. He may have over exaggerated a little but the moral was there all the same. He continued, “If only the Prime Minister would have listened to me as well, but in true fashion he was only concerned about the big businesses and oil companies and all those stuffy world leaders.” Lizzy was slightly confused. This man who George was describing sounded nothing like the one that she knew who had the Sex Pistols as his ring tone. However she was beginning to feel that maybe George was over-stepping the mark somewhat. She knew Will much better than she knew the man in front of her and if pushed would always fight in Will's defense.

“He was probably just busy at the time. Imagine the stress he must have to cope with - I don't think that anyone would be able to be calm and collected every hour of every day. It's impossible.” He shrugged at her words and offered her a slight smile.

“I suppose I'll have to agree with you and try and put my past with Will out of my mind.” Elizabeth was about to question him as to why he was calling Will by his nickname - instead of William or Mr Darcy or even Darcy - but was prevented from doing so when Charlotte came back into the customer area and turned on the television with a worried, “I think you need to see this” to Lizzy.

The channel was showing footage of Netherfield and as Lizzy read the words on the screen which were accompanying the pictures she felt like she was living in some sort of bizarre world. It read: Darcy and 17 year old in scandalous office affair. She felt like all the oxygen had been beaten from her lungs, like her mind could not function properly. This could not be true. Will wouldn't do that, wouldn't abuse his power like that. He couldn't. He wasn't that sort of man. And who was the 17 year old? But surely there had to be some truth in the allegations? She shuddered when that last thought entered her mind and immediately reprimanded herself for thinking such a thing. The man whom she had spent two nights with would never, ever do that?

Would he?

There was only one way to find out.

She would have to go to Netherfield and talk to him.

Going to Netherfield had seemed like a good option half an hour ago but when she had remembered about the press she was presented with another problem. How would she actually get in and see him without being branded one of his floozies? Lizzy parked the car at an out-look point and when she turned the engine off she was left in confused silence. She'd had to turn off the radio when she'd started the journey as all that was being discussed was Will's alleged affair. They were all saying that he was the British Clinton. There had only been the option of listening to some serious feminist show where they were grumbling about his actions as if he had brought about the end of the world, or another where the presenter - a man in his early twenties - was congratulating the Prime Minister on being such a good player. That had been the final straw and if the radio had of been removable it would have ended up in a field somewhere, broken and severely mauled.

She got out her mobile phone and dialed Will's number. There might be more success in him getting to her than the other way round. Just as she was about to hang up the phone was answered. “Hello?” Will's voice filtered through. He sounded like he had just been tortured. He probably had in one way or another.

“I need to speak to you.”

“Where?”

“I'm on Millet's Road, just overlooking the pond.”

“I'll be there in a few minutes. Bye.” He hung up and Lizzy was left shaking for reasons that she couldn't understand. She let out a shuddered breath and ran her hands through her hair. Why did she have to fall in love with the Prime Minister?

Wait.

Fall in love?

When did that happen?

Why it happened would be more to the point. Of all the stupid, idiotic things to do I've only fallen in love with him. Lizzy!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

She saw him running towards her car and without wondering how he escaped the paparazzi (no one had followed him) she opened the car door. He got in and slumped in the chair, slightly out of breath, before straightening himself.

“Who is she?”

“What?”

“This seventeen year old. Who is she?”

“It doesn't matter. I didn't do anything.”

She had been staring out of the windscreen but with his last words she whirled around and faced him. All she saw was exasperation on his face. However she needed to find out the facts. “Will don't do that to me. What's her name? Where does she come from? How do you know her?”

Will had apparently realized that resistance to Lizzy's questions was futile and after taking a large breath he began explaining. “Her name's Marianne Dashwood. Her family used to be quite rich but upon her father's death their wealth declined. She was doing work experience in Charles' office - Edward Ferrars knows her - and that is all that happened. I merely see her as a girl working in my best friend's office. That's all.”

“So you didn't make any advances on her?”

“No Lizzy! Why won't you believe me? If anything it was Willoughby who seduced her - she was always mooning about over him!”

“I didn't know you took that much interest in the romantic aspects of your best friend's temporary staff's lives. Honestly Will stop lying!”

“I'm telling you the truth” Silence filled the car again before Will added, “I can't believe that you don't trust me enough to believe what I say. You know what you're not the girl I thought you were.”

“And you're not the man I thought you were. Now get out of my car. Now!” He slammed the door as he exited and she watched him as he ran out of her sight, angry tears running down her cheeks. Whatever they may have had, whatever revelation she had come to was all null and void. Their tempers had gotten the best of them and now things were irrevocably ruined.

She had driven back to the café where George was still sitting in and accosted him with only one question, “How do you know Will?”

He merely smiled at her gently and began telling her of his history with Will. “He and I were boyhood friends - my father and his were very close and each trusted the other implicitly. The same was said for Will and I until we went to university. You see, throughout school he'd been gradually isolating me from him - I wasn't rich enough or snobby enough for his liking. When we went to the same university - with financial aid from his father for me - we found that we were sharing the same accommodation. Naturally I was over-joyed to be rooming with my best friend but soon it became clear that Will wasn't at all happy at sharing with me. Over time his habits, especially with women, got worse. He was becoming a player. Any woman that attracted him had no chance escaping him. He pursued them relentlessly. To my utmost shame I did nothing to stop him. Instead I turned a blind eye. That is,” he paused. “Until my younger sister became involved with him. She was so happy and pretty and had always adored Will - he'd made her laugh. When they got into a relationship she was only 17 - like Miss Dashwood. At first I hoped that she would change him but it didn't as Dani found out. One evening she came to the dorm - Will was out - in floods of tears. And I'm not exaggerating Lizzy. She poured her heart out and I discovered that that piece of swine Will Darcy had let her find him in bed with another woman. You can imagine my anger and I stormed round to his family's house demanding to see him. All I got was a right hook. He didn't even apologize - or attempt to apologize. Dani never saw him again - she's living in California now and slowly getting over the disappointment. Although I fear that Will might have ruined her forever.” He finished and wiped tears from his eyes. He was obviously moved by what he had told Lizzy. The latter's anger towards Will had not diminished and she was all too willing to believe George's words.

“How come you didn't tell the press when he became an MP? Or even when he was elected as the Prime Minister?”

“I wanted to believe me, but Dani persuaded me not to. She didn't want her name dragged through the papers although I have a suspicion that it was more because she was still in love with him.” They were both quiet until Lizzy stood up and moved towards him. Slowly she leaned down and kissed him on the lips. As the kiss deepened George withdrew. “Perhaps we shouldn't. I know about your relationship with Will. I wouldn't want you to regret this in the morning.”

Lizzy silenced him with another kiss. “Stop talking and take me to bed.”

He did as any man would do. Grasping her by the waist he led her out of the café and into his car. Following her directions he drove to her house and somehow, despite smothering each other with kisses, they got out of the car and went inside.

Chapter Eight

Posted on Friday, 30 December 2005

George's attentions to her became more intense and passionate, but Lizzy was left feeling strangely empty as if her body knew that she shouldn't be doing this. As he placed her on the bed Elizabeth's sense and rational mind kicked in - she could not sleep with George Wickham and definitely not in this bed. Only twenty four hours ago it had been Will she had been in this position with and everything had seemed so right and perfect, everything which this encounter with George was proving not to be. His hand slid under her top and at the feel of his skin against hers she recoiled and tried to get away, tried to get him to stop. But he wouldn't. She struggled to free herself from his embrace but to no avail, she kicked him and tried to hit him but he was too strong. He became more violent in his attentions to her and in turn Lizzy struggled even more fiercely against him. Eventually she managed to escape him and ran to the door of her room, ready to bolt if he didn't give his pursuit of her up. Lizzy glanced hesitantly at the bed and saw with relief that George was lying sprawled out on her bed and it seemed as though he wasn't going to follow her. For that she was grateful, exceedingly grateful.

“What was that about?”

“Pardon?” The shock of him speaking had reduced Lizzy to one word sentences.

“You heard me. You led me on, told me that I'd get lucky with you tonight. Now did you have an attack of conscience? Or perhaps it was the thought that your darling Will Darcy might hear of it - he wouldn't forgive you after that I think we both know it.”

“It was only a kiss, and he would understand I'm sure of it.”

George got up and prowled towards her, this time Lizzy was determined not to be intimidated by him and so she stood her ground. As he came closer she could smell the strong aftershave which hung around him mixed with the stench of cheap perfume. She wondered whose it was. Probably some tart off the street. “Will won't see it like that, you see he's a very possessive man. He won't want you any more when he discovers what you did - and who you did it with,” he leered.

“You're lying,” She wanted so much to think that he was but she knew the kind of man Will was: he was protective and she could imagine him as the jealous type. He would be disgusted with her wouldn't he? All she'd be would be another of those women who had accused him of taking advantage of his position and he would hate her for it. Why shouldn't he? After all Lizzy had always been one to hate sycophants and Will didn't really know her - he knew her body but she was afraid that he did not yet comprehend her soul. And he hadn't met her family properly yet: although maybe that was a good thing, she was sure that her mother and Lydia especially would mortify her to no end. Suddenly she was brought harshly back to reality when she felt George's hand on her neck and as he leaned further in she was able to feel his hot breath against her skin. Unlike earlier when she had been so mad at Will that she had been willing to do anything to forget about him, the touch revolted her as a result of George's evil words. And all she could think about was Will. There was nothing more she wanted to do than run to him and tell him everything and have him comfort her but she knew that things wouldn't be the same if she did. Lizzy remembered what she had heard him say at a press conference one time - she couldn't remember the question he had been asked but the answer remained etched in her brain: My good opinion once lost is lost forever.

He would never forgive her if he knew what she had been meaning to do that night, and that fact might just be the end of her.

Will was likewise in a state of unease after his conversation with Lizzy, or blazing row would be a more appropriate choice of words if he was being completely honest with himself. However he had not turned to another woman, despite Caroline's incessant hinting that she was available. After hearing the allegations of his abusing his position she had jumped to his defense stating that she would telephone the papers and tell them about Will's relationship with herself so all the allegations would have to be withdrawn. Will did not point out the obvious flaws in her plan but George Knightley (who had journeyed there from London) had. She had been extremely put out and Will had to smirk at how her face had managed to contort itself into the perfect image of his aunt Lady Catherine de Bourgh. Although it was scary at the same time as he knew that Caroline would never give up her pursuit of him and that it was not outside the realms of possibility for her to enter his room at night in an attempt to force herself on him. He definitely did not want to wake up and see a copy of his aunt's face staring back at him. That might be enough to send him to get therapy for the next decade or two.

Anyway Will was engaged in a rather pleasanter pursuit than Lizzy - whiskey. Charles always kept a very good supply of it wherever he went and not for the first time was Will exceedingly pleased by the fact. The hot liquid burned the back of his throat and it was strangely satisfying. He fully intended to drink himself into a drunken stupor that night although he expected that Knightley would attempt to take the alcohol away. The man had too much sense for his own good.

“You know that alcohol won't help the situation Will, so why do you turn to it when there's trouble? All it does it clouds your judgment.”

“Says a person who doesn't drink the stuff. I'm surprised you know - I've always assumed that politics would drive anyone to drink.”

“Well then why did you get involved in it then?”

“You know why Knightley. Because I'm a fool.”

George Knightley moved towards Will, stood in front of the fireplace for a while before coming to sit on a chair opposite him. He leaned forward with a very serious expression on his face. “You're not a fool Will, a bit proud at times but no fool. I do remember one of the papers saying a few weeks ago that you were one of the best PMs in history.”

“Useless waffle. I was merely lucky enough to inherit the country at a suitably stable period in its history. Just coincidence.”

“Will don't belittle yourself.” Knightley paused for a few minutes. “And you can't let Willoughby think he's won. Imagine the look on his face if he finds out the state you're in now. We have to rout him, find out where he got that Marianne girl from - how he managed to manipulate her to say what she did.” Will let out a bitter chuckle.

“You believe me then.”

Knightley looked at him strangely before answering, “Of course I do. You don't honestly think that I would take the media's word over yours. I've known you for years - I know your character. But-” Will glanced up at him, cynicism written in his face.

“But what?”

“I do think there's more to your despondent state than Willoughby demonstrating that he is in fact a complete and utter git.”

Will looked into the fire. He couldn't reply to Knightley who damnably knew him far too well - too knowledgeable at times. Even Bingley had not figured out that there was something else that was bothering him. “How did you know?”

“Because William Darcy I can read you like an open book, for some strange reason. And, I confess that if I am correct in my assumption of your other problem then I find that I share the same trouble.”

Will looked up, filled with curiosity. He wondered if, for the first time ever, George Knightley had mistaken him. The chance of it was exceedingly low but it was still possible, he could not imagine the sensible, wise man in front of him caring so much for a woman that he was unable to think of anything or anyone else. However he took a deep breath and began his story. “Her name is Elizabeth, or Lizzy as she prefers to be called, and she's the most amazing woman I have ever met. It seems that everything she does, everything she aims to do, is to make life better and to spread happiness.” He paused, “She makes me happy. So unbelievably, indescribably happy that all I can think of is her, and how I could not live without her, cannot imagine life without her in it. Even if she hates me, which she probably does now, at least I'd be so fortunate as to see her nearly everyday - see her succeed.”

“Why would she hate you?” Knightley's voice was gentle, understanding.

“This absurd affair - possibly the wrong choice of word in this scenario. We talked yesterday and I confess that I don't think she believed me - she questioned me about the girl, I lost my temper and things spiraled out of both our controls. She basically chucked me out of her car.”

“So she lives around here then. Well as long as she isn't the girl that Bingley keeps harking on about then I'm sure that everything'll turn out fine in the end.”

Will put his glass down on the table and looked Knightley straight in the eye, “Don't patronize me George.”

“George? You never call me George.”

“I have,” he stopped for a moment, searching for the correct word, “issues with the name. Very old and established issues. I thought a change was in order.” Both men sat in silence unwilling to continue with a subject that was so painful to Will. Knightley did honestly believe that things would be fine for his friend - he had always had the luck of the devil and he knew he should have it still. On the other hand Will was wondering what he would have to do to make amends with Lizzy: it seemed as though she had a ridiculously volatile temper and contrasted with his preference for keeping his emotions to himself he believed that things would never be simple between them. Then he remembered that Knightley had said something about having the same problem as Will did, and he was not going to let the man continue keeping that pain locked up inside. As much as Will hated confronting his own feelings - or even worse being forced to confront them by others - he saw the wisdom in it and if it was possible he would try and enable his friend to have the same relative peace of mind. “Was my problem similar to yours then?” Knightley looked rather surprised as he raised his head to answer Will.

“Yes. Similar, not identical though.”

“Tell me about it. And don't say that you can't because we both know that you aren't a hypocrite.”

George took a deep breath and fidgeted with the fabric of the chair, trying to stall for time somehow. Eventually he started to speak, “Her name's Emma. She's the sister of my brother's wife - they married 5 years ago, and Emma has been one of my closest friends for as long as I can remember. The problem is that she can never, will never, see me as anything but that while I find that with each day that passes she grows dearer to me. Now there's a bloke - Frank Churchill - who she is enamoured with, maybe she even loves him, and I find that I still cannot give her up - can't stop thinking about her. And it's ever so slowly driving me mad. There now, are you satisfied?” The question was not posed bitterly and so Will took no offence at it, instead Knightley's speech had struck a chord in himself - it was remarkable that a man who always appeared so happy and in control of his emotions could have such a pain within.

“Well Knightley it seems as though we have saved ourselves rather a lot of money tonight, and we have been blessed that we do not need to see Caroline's therapist. I do believe that that is the best news that I have heard in years.” Both men started to laugh at Will's comment and soon the atmosphere was considerably lighter than it had been when Knightley had entered the room. Will's thoughts turned to exactly how he was going to trap the rat that was John Willoughby. “Who can I count on for their support against Willoughby, Knightley?”

The other man turned his mind to the complex politics that made up the Cabinet and quickly answered with a string of names, most of which Will had already assumed that he could trust. “Anne'll definitely do it - she hates Willoughby, Charles of course, I think we'll have Edward Ferrars' support - he won't have liked being dragged into the press like that, and Christopher Brandon. For some reason Chris seems to detest Willoughby even more than we do, however it is not my place to pry into others' lives. It's rather the sort of thing Emma would enjoy.” at Will's questioning look he expanded on what he had said, “Sometimes I believe that it is her mission in life to get everyone married off, honestly it's the kind of behaviour you'd expect from an old wife not from a twenty year old whom everybody loves.”

“Perhaps she's bored.”

Knightley just snorted, “Perhaps she's just nosy. Bored my eye, Emma Woodhouse would never have time to be bored.”

“Well Knightley I do believe that we ought to get busy. After all we mustn't let John have all the fun.”

Lizzy was still in a state of shock following her actions the previous night. Having attempted to fall asleep and forget about the whole ideal she found it very difficult to do, all she could smell was the overbearing aftershave which George Wickham had left on the pillows. Finally she decided that if she was going to get any sleep that night she would have to change the covers: she did not want various George Wickham's invading her dream-world. She would much prefer Will Darcys. However despite changing the sheets she still couldn't sleep: the memory of what George had said to her as he left replayed in her head. He had assured her that no matter how offensive she found his actions he was still telling the truth: that Will had used many women before and that if she wanted proof then all she had to do was ask. She didn't know who to believe. Her gut instinct, or rather her heart, said that Will was the trustworthy one, but there was something so earnest in George's expression and in his manners - he really seemed to hate Will. He wouldn't hate his former friend for no apparent reason. Lizzy merely groaned into her pillow and turned on the television hoping to find something half-way bearable to watch to take her mind off the dreadful situation she was in. However it wasn't very comforting when the first thing she came across was a programme about 'Will Darcy - noble or naughty?' and the second being 'Is your partner telling the truth? Lie detector tests revealed'. At that point she had chucked the remote at the TV and closed her eyes in a vain attempt to get out of this mess.

The next day was the traditional Bennet family meal - otherwise known to Lizzy, Jane, their father and (she suspected) Mary as the dreaded day from hell. Part Two. Frances Bennet - or what she preferred now Fran - would insist upon having all her daughters round for a 'traditional Sunday roast'. However more often than not it was the eldest daughters who cooked while their mother babbled on about Catherine Lucas next door and her latest ways to embarrass the Bennets and the two youngest sisters prattled on about boys at school. Mary, being the very prudent and sane one in the family, merely retreated to her bedroom with a pile of school book while Mr Bennet was a recluse in his library. As a result Jasmine was often left unsupervised, and that was something which Lizzy hated with every ounce in her body. Lydia really should take better care of her daughter.

Jane had told Lizzy last week that she would call round to her house and they would arrive together, but it was ten minutes after her elder sister had said that she would come and Lizzy was getting worried. Finally, just as she was about to ring hospitals - or Jane's permanently 'off' mobile at the very least - the lost sister returned. Jane was looking pretty as she always did but there was something about her clothes and make-up and her whole air altogether that made her suspicious.

“Jane why are you so late?”

“Can I come in Lizzy?”

“Sure. What's the matter?”

Jane fiddled with the clasp on her back nervously, determined not to look at her sister. “Well you see Lizzy I've invited Charles to lunch.”

“Today?”

“You don't want to meet him?” Jane sounded very worried, she needn't have been afraid of her sister's reaction but, in Lizzy's opinion, of her mother's.

“Jane I'd love to meet him, from what I can tell he's a lovely man. But mother...She's going to be a little - excited, about this.”

“I know, but I really like him Lizzy. Really I do. He's the best man I have ever known and he always seems to be able to make me happy. I want to let him meet mama and the family so he can know me better. Can you understand that?”

“I can Jane.” However even if she could understand some of the motivation behind Jane's decision, she could not see the sense in it. If it had been Lizzy in the situation going out with Will then nothing would have made her more determined for him not to meet her mother. Or at the very least warn him excessively about her behaviour beforehand, something which Lizzy knew that her sister hadn't. That was such an admirable fault in Jane that she always believed the best in people, but Lizzy much preferred to be a cynic. It left you open to less disappointments.

“He's going to meet us at the house. Oh Lizzy, things will go well, won't they?”

“Of course Jane.”

What was a little white lie between sisters?

They arrived at the house more or less on time and Lizzy had to roll her eyes when Jane started to get very excitable when Charles' car came into view. For the whole journey she had had to endure, Charles this and Charles that. Although it was very distracting and she had managed not to think of Will for the majority of the car drive. As soon as the car stopped Jane jumped out of the car and ran over to Charles. In typical excitable Jane fashion she had forgotten her coat and the pre-cooked chicken which the sisters had learnt was an absolute necessity after an incident when their mother had invited the all her friends and even those she was not so friendly with around for tea. However she had had nothing cooked or even in the fridge. The resulting supermarket dash was something that would live in Lizzy and Jane's minds forever.

She leaned back and grabbed the items off the back seat and attempted to get out of the car. It was extremely difficult as she had to keep hold of a chicken, Jane's favourite knee length coat, a bottle of wine, some chocolates and her car keys. After trying many different ways of opening the door (with all failed equally miserably) she was about to call Jane for help. Then she found the car door being opened and, assuming it was either Jane or Charles, looked up to thank them. The words were barely out of her mouth when she saw who it was who had helped her out.

It was Will.

Chapter Nine

Posted on Monday, 16 January 2006

Will was having second thoughts about coming to see Lizzy. Actually scratch that, he was having fourteenth thoughts about traveling to Longbourn and he suspected that had it not been for Knightley ordering Charles not to let Will out of his sight, he would be on the road to Pemberley by now. As he opened the car door he knew that she didn't realize it was him - maybe there was still time to escape, but when he caught sight of her all thoughts of fleeing vanished. She was absolutely beautiful and, spurred on by an urgent desire to repair their relationship, he took some of the stuff that she was carrying. However Lizzy reacted very differently than Will had expected her to, only replying to him with a rather shy smile and - much to his dismay - she would not look at him.

“Thank you Will.”

“No problem. Do you want me to bring these inside? Charles and your sister seem to be a little preoccupied.” A little preoccupied might have been a slight understatement, Will thought as he glanced at his friend and saw Charles and Jane behaving like foolish teenagers. He heard Lizzy laugh a little and immediately his gaze switched to her.

“She really likes him you know,” she said.

“He seems to 'really like her' too. Well, lead the way Miss Bennet!”

She appeared to have realized that the food would indeed need to be transferred from the driveway to the kitchen and so proceeded to walk into the house. Will was absolutely shocked at what he found when he entered. There were clothes hanging on the banister and some had dropped onto the top stairs - all of them seemed to be violently pink and were things that Will would hope never to see Georgiana wear. As they entered the living room, or what Will presumed was the living room - he could hardly see the sofas as a result of the clutter - he observed a stash of toys in one corner, a pile of magazines in the other and two teenage girls sitting on the seats watching what Will could only presume was a boy-band's extremely dreadful pop video. Will had never been a pop fan himself and the sight of five men all in varying states of partial nudity was not something that he wished to subject himself to again.

“Lydia, Kitty are you two going to sit in front of the TV the whole day?” Lizzy received no answer so obviously the girls were going to do just that. “Thank you for that lovely welcome. I must say it's lovely to be greeted so warmly by your sisters!” That sarcastic remark certainly roused one of the girls into action. She was a tall, thin girl who had dyed her hair blonde in an effort to simulate one of her sister's - or so Will thought. It could just as well have been some sort of fashion statement. Come to think of it Caroline had been saying something about highlights recently...

“Hi Lizzy how're...” The girl stopped and her mouth opened in shock. “You're Will Darcy, the Prime Minister, aren't you?” He instantly felt uncomfortable at the attention but nodded his head in assent. The girl positively beamed, “That's so cool! Lyds, Lizzy's brought home the Prime Minister!” Will saw the woman beside him colour with embarrassment.

“Will this is Kitty, Kitty - Will. Or would you prefer William, or Mr Darcy?” She looked at him questioningly. It seemed as though she was a little unsure about her family and him being within speaking distance.

“Will's fine.”

“Good. Anyway that ungracious lump on the sofa is my youngest sister Lydia.”

“Hi Lydia.” Lydia merely snorted in response. This was a very strange family. Lizzy led him into what he discovered was the kitchen - a very quaint room with some very...interesting...aspects to it, especially the pictures of pigs which were hung up on the walls. He wondered if Mrs Bennet had been brought up on a farm. Lizzy told him to dump the stuff down on the counter tops and then proceeded to put the chicken in a cupboard which she almost had to force shut due to the amount of biscuits and chocolate shoved in it. At his curious look she just said that, “It's a house with four women in it - what do you expect?” She went back out into the living room and asked Kitty where her mother was.

“She's upstairs having one of her episodes again. Mary's up there with her supposedly calming her down but by now mum's probably managed to get her riled up about that inane rubbish she bizarrely likes to read.”

“Mary's studying religion and philosophy at university,” Lizzy whispered to Darcy as she passed him. He saw that she was heading up the stairs and very nearly had a panic attack. Surely she wasn't going to leave him here with teenagers was she? It seemed very much like she had and after listening to the girls' chatter for a few tedious minutes he prayed that Charles and Jane would come inside soon. Then again hypothermia could set in before either of them would be any the wiser. Then he heard something fall and looked round to see what it was.

The noise did not come from an 'it' as Will had expected, but from a little girl who had collapsed onto the floor. She was adorable and he remembered her from the meeting with Lizzy when he had just arrived at Netherfield. She was beginning to cry now, and Will felt extremely awkward about it as although he was a good ten years his sister's senior, he had still been too young to care for her needs and comfort her. If only Mrs Reynolds was here now she'd know what to do. However Will didn't have to worry for a long time as Kitty came and scooped up the child into her arms and soon the tears vanished, replaced by happy giggling. He presumed that since the little girl had called Lizzy 'Auntie Lizzy' and because Kitty was looking after her now that she was Kitty's daughter. Rather young to be having a child at - he thought that Kitty was at least eighteen and that the girl was around two - but he supposed that she had been over the age of consent when she had gotten pregnant.

Just then Lizzy came downstairs and to Will's expert eye she appeared to be verging on homicidal. “Lydia what do you think you're doing? Your daughter's bawling her eyes out and all you do is lounge about and watch rubbish TV! If you want to be taken seriously, if you want to be treated as an adult then act like one and take care of your daughter!” Will was taken aback. The child was Lydia's, he never would have guessed it, never would have expected it. However it was clear and although he tried not to let it affect his opinion of Lizzy, her family automatically diminished in his estimation. What kind of parents would let their child run around and get pregnant at such a young age? Then again they had raised Lizzy and Jane didn't appear to be that bad either, but there might be millions of skeletons in the Bennet family closet just like this one.

“Will, I'm sorry. I didn't realize that you were standing there.”

“It's fine, I think I know what you're feeling now.” Lizzy didn't answer him immediately, instead she took the child from Kitty, went to the kitchen, beckoned for him to come with her and then shut the door tightly behind them.

“I know what you're feeling now. You're wondering what you've got yourself into and how quickly you can make your escape from my lovely family.” He could not deny it, it was true but he would never insult Lizzy by telling her that. So he opted to go for the more diplomatic answer.

“I don't think any less of you now, or Jane for that matter. And Kitty seems a nice girl too - she did help...What's her name?”

Lizzy smiled softly and cuddled the child, “This is Jasmine, she'll be two and a half in September. Please don't think badly of her because of when she was conceived. Lydia may have been foolish but I wouldn't give up this little one for all the world.” She placed a soft kiss on Jasmine's head.

“She's just a baby Lizzy. Of course I don't think badly of her.”

At that moment Jane and Charles appeared, having taken the sensible option and come through the back door which led into the kitchen. Jane looked inquiringly at Lizzy and then realized what was happening. “Lizzy do you want me to take Jasmine? You can get the dinner ready and I'll see to her. I'll be in the nursery if you need me. Charles are you coming?” Charles did not want to be parted from his dearest Jane and so he followed her, it seemed as though he knew about Jasmine's existence. Well Will supposed he had known before as well but in all the commotion of the past few days he had forgotten her. When Lizzy and he were left alone she began to speak in a hushed voice.

“Lydia got involved with some boy from her school - he was the same age as she was - and they were both foolish enough to forget about - well, protection. Then nine very stressful and chaotic months in the Bennet house later Jasmine was born. We never see her father - I don't think his parents really want to know. I just thought that if you were going to stay for dinner then you'd want to know the entire story.”

“You want me to stay for dinner?” Will's spirits had rocketed when he heard the last sentence if what she had said.

“If you don't mind, I mean I bet you have plans with all the media speculation and everything.”

“I'd love to stay Lizzy. And by the way I'm thinking of suing that news channel for slander and Willoughby very possibly for libel.” She nodded and he felt a flutter of hope stir in his chest. “You believe me now, don't you?”

“I do,” the words were very quiet, barely audible in fact, but they were there and nothing made Will happier than the knowledge that she believed in him, trusted him. Perhaps it was time to let go of that Darcy of the past - the one who was generally thought arrogant and proud when in fact he was only frightened about how others would act towards him.

“What made you change your mind?”

“It doesn't matter, I just had a few revelations that's all.” He wanted to press the matter, wanted to know what had improved her opinion of him but he knew that she would not react well to such prodding and so he left the matter alone. Anyway he could discern wailing noises which he knew were not from a baby and then laughter straight after, as Lizzy walked out of the kitchen he could only wonder again at the strange nature of this family.

Eventually they sat down to Sunday dinner and such a mixture of people Will had rarely met in the same place before. On his right was Mary Bennet, a very serious young woman who was studying at Cambridge and he was certain that if they were thrown into company together more often then they would get along splendidly. To his left was Lizzy and opposite him, still with a look of awe on her face, was Kitty. Lydia and Fran Bennet, their mother, were the only ones who didn't really seem to know or care who he was which although refreshing, grew tiresome extremely quickly after Mrs Bennet asked him several times if he was rich. It was only the feel of Lizzy's hand in his that calmed him down - he thought that he had escaped all this when he had left London and especially when he had been separated from Caroline Bingley but it seemed as though he was not that fortunate. He sensed that Mary was curious as well about his job but that she had no desire to further the subject, indeed he could tell that she was extremely annoyed to be sitting beside her mother and should have felt guilty that it was probably because of him and Charles that she was in her vicinity but could not bring himself to have a conscience on that particular matter. Mr Bennet was an eccentric old man and Will knew that he would be addressing the elder man by his title for a considerable amount of time. He seemed to find pleasure in poking fun at his family - especially his wives and younger daughters, and although Will could understand why the man had the need to do so (it was surely an effort to save his sanity after being married to his wife for nearly 25 years) he did not see why such critique should happen in public. However the father appeared to genuinely love his two eldest daughters and his grand-daughter - at least in this his judgment was sound.

“So how's university going Mary?” Jane asked once talk of money had died down a little.

“It's fine. My Professor is really nice he says that if I have any problems or I want to talk to him about anything then I should go to him immediately.” Lydia made a crude comment which immediately earned her the censure of Jane and Lizzy.

“And how are you doing with your A-levels Kitty?” Jane was again attempting to improve the atmosphere around the table.

“It's really interesting although I really don't know why I chose to do Maths.”

“Because the teacher's a cutey, Kitty, and you've had a crush on him for years, that's why.” Kitty protested but Lydia's claim was proven to be true when she started to blush uncontrollably.

An uncomfortable silence formed and everyone seemed to be taking pains to eat the remainder of their dinner. It was very good and Will wondered whether Lizzy or Jane was a chef. Whoever had cooked the meal was exceptionally talented. He was just about to ask this when Lizzy said that there was desert for anybody who wanted it.

“Oh thanks Lizzy that'd be great!” However just as Lizzy was about to stand up Lydia began telling something to the entire table which in Will's view should have been reserved solely for the ears of her sister.

“You'll never guess what mum. I've got a boyfriend!” The ecstasies which this sent Mrs Bennet into surprised Will, why would anyone be happy about their children slowly losing their innocence? He could only imagine what he would do if Georgiana brought someone home and declared that she was madly in love with him. Although technically she had done that before.

“Who is it dear? Anyone I know? That boy in Sixth form that you and Kitty keep talking about maybe.”

“No mum,” Lydia looked very pleased that her mother was unable to guess who her beau was. Chancing a look at the other people at the table he saw that Lizzy was sitting in silent mortification, Mr Bennet was looking amused at this foolery and as usual Jane and Charles were caught up in their own world.

“Well tell us all who he is!” Mrs Bennet's voice had suddenly become shriek-like.

“He's older than me. In fact he's left school ages ago - isn't that so cool? Anyway he says that I'm beautiful and gorgeous and a thousand other things which I can't remember now. We're going out on a date tomorrow - he phoned today and arranged it. I think that there was some other woman earlier this week because he seems more friendly towards me now. She was probably some old tramp who was clinging on to his youth. Oh he's really hunky!” Mrs Bennet and indeed Kitty (smashing any notion that Will had about her sense) were in hysterics now. The latter managed to stop shrieking long enough to ask for his name. “You want his name? Should I be jealous Kitty - do you want to steal him?”

“No Lydia, honestly I don't!”

“Well all right if you really want to know,” Will got the impression that she was enjoying drawing out this little secret but he did not find it amusing at all. The older man situation was all to reminiscent of the trouble his own sister had gotten herself into last year. “His name's George. George Wickham. Don't you just love the name?” Will was beyond shocked, stunned maybe - unable to move would do better justice to the emotions he was feeling right now. How had Wickham managed to ingratiate himself into Will's life again? Why was he now linked with Lizzy, however unwanted the connection was? The clatter of a knife dropping interrupted his panicked thoughts and he turned round and saw that Lizzy had dropped said item of cutlery on the ground. Her face was pale and for a moment he thought that she was going to faint - maybe she had heard of Wickham and his reputation, he was in the media after all.

“Does anyone want desert?” She asked in a very un-Lizzy-like, weak voice. Charles and Jane said that they did and when applied to Will agreed as well. It was obvious that she wanted to escape the confines of the table and the topic of conversation. However as she rushed out of the dining room towards the kitchen he realized that there must be something more to her behaviour than just the shock of a sister going out with an older man. Without caring what anyone thought of him he got up and followed her. When he entered the kitchen he saw her standing against one of the counters with her hands covering her face. As she realized his presence she quickly removed her hands but Will could see tear tracks on her cheeks and wetness in her eyes. However much this sight tore at his heart, he would not be deterred.

“How do you know Wickham?”

Chapter Ten

Posted on Saturday, 11 February 2006

“How do you know Wickham?” Will was getting annoyed now and he didn't care if Lizzy saw it. She had to know about Wickham, why else would she react that way? His initial desire to learn what was affecting her had soon been overcome by the rage and anxiety which had become inextricably linked to his former friend's name. The blinding anger which he now felt was clouding - no, fogging - his judgment, his ability to see sense. In fact all logic had flown out the window when he realized that there was something more to Lizzy's reaction than met the eye.

“W-what? I don't know him, why would I?”

“Lizzy, tell me.” He wouldn't raise his voice, not to her, but the underlying feeling was clear - he would not tolerate any lies. She was silent for a while but when she looked up at him and saw the pain and the concern in his eyes she began speaking again.

“Promise you won't get angry?” For a very slight moment some of the rage within him started to diminish at the sight of such a defeated woman in front of him. He knew that if this matter had concerned anyone but Wickham he would not have pressed her for any more information than she was willing to give.

“I can't promise that.”

“Sit down.” He would not. To sit down would be to declare himself a weak man, a man who could not handle the truth, and if there was one thing Will prided himself on - in both his public and political life - it was that he could take any criticism, no matter how personal. However he understood that with this woman, and with that man being the topic of conversation, his principals would be as loose as the morals of a street-walker. Lizzy noticed that he wasn't going to sit down and a slight feeling of indignation crept up inside her. But it strengthened her and so she encouraged it, sensing that this talk could quite quickly turn into a war. “Alright then, don't,” she muttered under her breath. Will heard it but pretended that he did not.

“Go on.”

“I met George Wickham just after you deserted me at Charlotte's, and at that time I was convinced that he was the nicest, most charming man that I had ever met. Of course I didn't put you in the equation - I was far too angry at you for leaving me, even though I knew that you had to go. I mean who else would take care of things if the Prime Minister didn't?” It was supposed to be a rhetorical question but Will was not in the mood for such foolish devices so he went with the honest truth.

“Willoughby.” She looked up at him in confusion before quickly mustering up her courage to speak again. It wasn't going too badly, she thought to herself, but then the explosive stuff was still to come.

“We got talking and I found that we had the same sort of interests - music, TV, politics... I liked him, I believed him to be a nice man. Then I saw the news and what they said about you nearly killed me. I remembered how we first met, and when they showed that girl Marianne I wondered if I was just another in a long line of victims. It's rather pathetic isn't it? It wasn't a case of thinking that you would physically hurt me, or force me to do things that I didn't want to do - I wouldn't let you do that and I think you know that - but the fear of being emotionally abused by you, emotionally crippled, was what drove me into action. When I left the café I was convinced that somehow they'd got the story wrong but secretly, unconsciously, wishing that it was true. I was such a coward. I still am. Maybe I thought that if you were the one in the wrong then it would be me breaking up with you and not the other way round. You see, all my past boyfriends - or potential ones - have always cast me aside for one reason or another and I was determined that this time I would be the one doing the rejecting. I guess I didn't know why a man like you was interested in me.” Before he had time to fully digest the statement, she began to speak again, “I'm still a feminist though, deeply devoted one - even got the hairy legs to prove it.” She tried to smile but the pathetic attempt failed to lighten the mood. When she didn't return to the topic of Wickham, Will's face became even more distorted with annoyance.

“Don't look at me like that Will,” said Lizzy. It was quiet but the defiance was clear.

“Tell me the rest.”

“How do you know that that wasn't everything that happened, that we just parted ways and hoped to meet again?” She was antagonizing him, and for a moment she cursed herself that she loved to play the devil's advocate. However, he really was getting her riled up and it would only be his fault if things got out of control.

“A woman doesn't react the way you did when you heard his name with someone she only talked to!” Will still refused to shout, but this time it was only out of consideration for the Bennets and Charles that he didn't yell.

Lizzy had no such compunction. “Were you having me followed, huh Will? Were you?” She came closer to him until she could smell his cologne. “A man like you needs to be in control. I've seen your type before and let me tell you I absolutely detest them! Men are all the same - all looking for one thing, and I was stupid enough to give it to you.”

“Oh, so all men are the same, is that it? What about Wickham, eh?”

“George is an exception to the rule,” she noticed how the use of Wickham's first name hurt Will, and she felt a perverse sense of delight. He had hurt her, Wickham had hurt her, and she wasn't going to be wounded again.

“Oh, it's George now!”

“Of course it is. Do you want to know what we did when I came back from seeing you? About how good he made me feel? How much his kisses affected me?” Only the years of keeping his emotions in check prevented Will from storming out at that point, he needed to hear the rest. “We went back to my place, and we couldn't keep our hands off each other. Then I led him up to my bedroom and he-”

“Stop it! Just stop it! You're just like every other woman I've ever met - you only want glory, money, power.” He spat out the words as though they were burning oil on his tongue.

“Well at least I'm not some pervert who likes to abuse his power - how was that Marianne girl? Did it feel good to intimidate her, force her, did it turn you on knowing that you had control over her?”

“Shut up!”

Both of them stared at the other - both thinking that there was no other person they hated more in this world than the person standing opposite. Will shook his head, and with a sudden movement he reached to snatch his coat from the chair beside Lizzy. She didn't even flinch at the force with which he took it.

He made no attempt to bid her goodbye, and she didn't say anything to him either. He stormed out of the kitchen, his composure and - he presumed - all his dignity had vanished when Lizzy had started her tirade. He didn't care what the Bennet family thought, didn't care about how angry Charles would be at his behaviour, all he wanted was to be out of the wretched house and at his own home. If only he could see Georgiana now! As he entered the dining room he found it to be suspiciously silent, and when he heard something rattle in the kitchen, he understood why. They had all heard him and Lizzy arguing. What a fine role model he was! Most of the Bennets were looking at him with a mixture of shock and outrage on their faces - even Kitty, who had admired him before, seemed horrified at his behaviour. But of course they would side with Lizzy, she was a member of their family after all. And it had been her fault, hadn't it? She had been the one to argue, she'd started it. Then a thought struck him. Lizzy had told him all he needed to know, he'd come to the conclusion, which to his mind was perfectly correct, that she had slept with Wickham. But if she'd really liked it as much as she said she had, then why had she been crying when he first started talking to her? The notion that she had been lying to him about what had happened with Wickham disturbed Will - what if something worse had taken place? What if Wickham had hurt her? The pain that such thoughts roused was more than Will could combat, but he would not apologize. It was beneath his dignity and, he sensed, it would damage his pride. After all, it was she who had started it and the matter would only be resolved by Lizzy coming to her senses and telling the truth.

Then again, maybe she had been sobbing crocodile tears. Or what was worse - what if she had been mourning, not the end of their relationship, but the end of a variety of political opportunities. He could just see her on Question Time* now, explaining to an attentive audience how bad a person he was, how rubbish he was in all areas of his life and not only in politics. The sparkling eyes would be even brighter with that comment, and George Wickham would be waiting in the wings - rejoicing in Will's downfall.

He knew that that last thought was uncharitable, but all he could see was Lizzy in bed with Wickham and a weeping Georgiana lying distraught in her bedroom at Pemberley. And he being unable to make things better.

Will had walked - or rather ran - out of the house and Charles had dutifully, and angrily, followed him. Jane was in a situation which was generally unheard of - she knew that Will had hurt Lizzy in some way and as such he deserved to be castrated, but she was also well aware that, because Will was generally a quiet and controlled man, her sister probably had had a hand in the slanging match that they had all overheard. She saw that her father was itching to go after Will, but a restraining gesture from herself had calmed him slightly. On the other hand Mrs Bennet seemed to be about to take another fit of nerves at the idea that Lizzy had chucked out one of the most eligible bachelors in the country. Oh the money lost! Well, the matriarch supposed, Lizzy always was the ungrateful child. Undoubtedly Lydia was much more deserving.

Jane quickly made her way to the kitchen, relatively unnoticed by the rest of her family. She cautiously opened the door - Lizzy could still be in a temper, and that was not something Jane particularly desired to encounter. To say that she was surprised with what she found would have been a gross understatement to Jane's feelings, astonished might have been closer. Lizzy, the brave Bennet sister who had gotten her ears pierced at the tender age of eight by her older cousin (the infection had eventually cleared up, but Mrs Bennet was still angry with her niece for leaving minuscule scars on her daughter's ears), was now lying against the back door and letting silent tears run down her face. Jane ran over to her sister and put her arms around her, but Lizzy was still unresponsive, even Jane's gentle urgings could not get her sister to wake from the trance she was in.

Eventually Jane realized that coaxing would not work, neither would ordering. The only way in which Lizzy would wake from her stupor was by her own will power. Until that happened Jane was content to merely hug her sister and let her know that there was someone there for her.

Half an hour later the unbearable pressure of contained sorrow forced Lizzy to cry out and once she started it was near impossible to stop. Jane tightened the embrace and the sobbing intensified. All that the elder sister could discern was the words, “Jane, Janie I've been so stupid, so stupid.”

Charles was not overly concerned for his friend, at the moment his soul preferred anger to anything remotely sympathetic. Could the man not be reasonable for once? Could he not be amicable? Charles realized that Mrs Bennet was indeed a tad overbearing and certainly she was enthusiastic, but surely that was just country manners for you! Will was standing against the car and gazing into the night sky - although Charles guessed that the fine array of stars was going unnoticed by the Prime Minister.

“I can't believe you did that.”

Will didn't respond.

“What happened in there?” Charles' new tactic of gentle questioning had as much success as the previous one. “You're going to have to tell me sometime.” Still there was silence. “If you don't snap out of-”

“Don't Charles.”

“Don't what?”

“Don't try and make me feel guilty. Believe me you don't need to.”

Charles, a little softened by his friend's admission, strode over and stood beside him. “I don't want to know what that was about, it's between you and Lizzy, but couldn't you have kept your annoyance hidden until we got back to Netherfield?” Will, sensing that the real reason for his friend's concern was that he might be tarred with the same brush, told Charles that he was convinced Jane would realize that he was blameless on this matter and that his own anger had in no way diminished his chances with Lizzy's sister.

“That's not the point.”

“Isn't it? You're afraid that Jane will think that we're the same and then break up with you.”

“No I'm not!” Charles' denial sounded a little weak even to his own ears. “Alright, maybe a little. But what I'm most concerned about is what you've done to Lizzy. All personal matters aside, she's a dangerous political enemy to have.”

“It'll make good headlines then.”

“Darce, don't say that. I'm so frustrated with you right now! I don't have to be Knightley to realize that if this little story with Lizzy gets out, you'll lose a lot of our female voters - even more so than we already have.” Will remembered the accusations facing him and groaned silently. It really seemed as though his life could not get any worse - he was branded as a misogynist and now he had even lost Lizzy's confidence and, if she had ever held any for him, her affection.

“What am I going to do?” The despairing question shocked Charles. Will had never really been one to ask his advice on matters and he was grateful for that, but for Will to now seek his counsel rocked Charles to the core. It appeared that Will had lost all trust in himself, in his decisions, and as Will had always been the strong one, the constant - almost stubborn - one, Charles gained an insight into how much this man felt for Lizzy.

“What are you going to do? You, my friend, are going to apologize.”

*Question Time is a BBC programme in which a panel of guests (both from the political and entertainment worlds) answer questions on the government, it's policies

etc.

Chapter Eleven

Posted on Sunday, 5 March 2006

Parliament was back in session and Lizzy couldn't be happier. Although she was slightly worried that she could run into Will quite easily, she also knew that there was no way he would lower himself to argue publicly with a mere opposition back bencher. After what had happened the last time the two had met, Lizzy had taken herself away to Ireland and no one except Jane had known where she was. It had been blissful, the weather unusually warm and she had made some good friends who she had promised to keep in contact with. It was a delightful change not seeing the Prime Minister's face everywhere she went and her sojourn had assured her that if things went very badly in England she could at least flee to Ireland.

“Lizzy I need to talk to you!”

“Sure Ed.”

Edmund Bertram, the leader of the Labour Party, had been a close friend of Elizabeth's for many years and when she had first entered Parliament (only a few months ago) he had been the first to make her feel really welcome. She ventured into his office which was a very neat, orderly place. Evidently Frances had been at it.

“What's the matter?”

“Well Lizzy, I wanted to congratulate you on a job well done.”

“Pardon?”

“You've managed to survive the first few months of this hell hole.”

“Be careful, someone might think that you don't like politics.”

“Sometimes I think that I don't.” Ed sat down on his chair and let out a mammoth sigh. “Maybe I'll turn to religion, something that doesn't involve back-stabbing and name-calling on a daily basis. I think Fran would prefer it as well.”

“She misses you, it's natural. But I'm sure she understands.”

“Of course she understands, she's Frances Price - that's what she does! But know that she would prefer that I wasn't in Westminster for most of the week. Maybe then we could get married after a five year engagement, and have kids and everything that goes along with it.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Never mind, it's not your fault. In fact you are the beacon in my very dark political life.”

“What?”

“Lizzy, you're about to take up your seat on the Foreign Affairs select committee - that could be a huge step for you.” He motioned for her to have a seat and she did what he instructed. What was he on about? “I would like you in my shadow cabinet, you're a good politician, a good friend - I can trust you. But you have to get some experience, make yourself known a bit more to the general public, then you'll find a space on the front bench.”

“I'm honoured, really I am, but isn't the function of the select committees to scrutinize the government without party politics coming into play?”

“What are you trying to say?”

“To an outsider the mention of my seat on the Foreign Affairs select committee and then a potential position in the shadow cabinet...well it could sound like you were bribing me.” She hoped that that wasn't true. For so long she had put Ed on a moral pedestal - he had been everything that was good and noble and honourable about politics - but if he was suggesting what it appeared he was suggesting, then she would have no other choice than to sever all links with him.

“I'm not.” Lizzy breathed a sigh of relief. “Did you really think I would do that?” She couldn't respond. In the few brief months that she had been at Westminster she had become a jaded person, a somewhat cynical person. The woman who had entered politics with the view that anything was possible was now unrecognizable. Apparently things were only possible if you knew the right people, if you were powerful enough, rich enough.

Such as Will and what he had - or had not - done with Marianne Dashwood. The truth had never come out and no one had really suffered politically. Will had seen his popularity fall momentarily in the opinion polls and John Willoughby was for the briefest of instants the most popular man in the Conservative Party, but soon things had reverted to the natural order. Will was the darling boy of the Tories and Willoughby the edgy rival. She had been convinced that what had happened would have changed things - either Willoughby or Will would have been removed from their offices - but nothing had happened. However now she was back in the Commons, she sensed something was different - not in the cabinet or the party, but in the hearts and minds of the Conservative MPs and of the staff who worked for them.

“Lizzy? Are you listening to me?” She was woken from her daze by Ed who had managed to find enough energy to walk over beside her.

“Yeah, no, sorry what were you saying?”

“I was just wishing you luck. This is an important thing, make the most of it.”

“I will.”

Her first meeting with the rest of the Foreign Affairs select committee was that afternoon. Unfortunately it also coincided with the Minister for Education coming in and answering questions about her policies, so there were a lot of journalists there. After all, everyone was eager to see if she would be harassed by the committee.

“Elizabeth Bennet? Am I correct?” It was clear that the man in front of her knew exactly who she was but, for reasons unknown to Lizzy, refused to admit it.

“Yes. And you are?” He obviously didn't expect the question to be turned round on him. Immediately his whole body tensed and his face became even more stony.

“I am William Collins, the chairman of this committee. I'm extremely surprised that you don't know who I am because I have been favoured with the friendship and condescension of Lady Catherine de Bourgh - the aunt of the Prime Minister William Darcy.”

“I do know who the Prime Minister is, thank you.” I know him far more intimately than you would ever believe. It was that thought which allowed her to get through the next five minutes in which Collins flattered Lady Catherine, criticized Ed and patronized Lizzy. She could just imagine the look on his face if he ever found out what had occurred between Will and herself, of course she temporarily forgot - or ignored - the fact that their relationship was rather rocky at the moment.

Eventually Collins stopped talking and Lizzy managed to extract herself from his tedious company. She wasn't sure if the man name-dropped because he was uneasy about how he was viewed or because he was just an arrogant buffoon. As she watched him approach another committee member - who tried valiantly to get away - she assumed that he was just obnoxious.

“Lizzy Bennet? It's a pleasure to meet you.” She turned around to see whose was the friendly voice. “Oh sorry, I'm -”

“Anne Elliot. Education Minister.” Lizzy was slightly taken aback at meeting one of the few prominent female politicians.

“I know you're new here, I hope Collins didn't put you off.”

“Not really, I suppose there are lots of arrogant, pompous, sniveling twits in all areas of British society.” She saw Anne trying to repress a smile and warmed to the woman. Then she remembered the words of Lucy Steele when news of Will allegedly abusing his power had come to light.

”I know for a fact that Anne Elliot is very close to him - more than just a platonic closeness.”

Lizzy wondered whether that was true or not. Regardless of the claims against Will's character, she could imagine Anne and he having a very close relationship - surely the other woman was the ideal woman for Will; intelligent, loyal, quiet-tempered.

“Ignore Collins. I don't like him and I know Will doesn't either.” Will, she called him Will - not William. She also knew that maybe she was over-reacting but couldn't stop herself from being completely and irrationally paranoid.

“How did Collins become the chairman?”

“I don't know. Maybe because of Lady de Bourgh's influence, maybe because of Will. He's not that good of a scrutinizer, all he seems to care about is his future with her, that's good for me but it's not good for what I represent - for democracy. I mean, who wants someone who is basically just a sycophant?”

“No one does! How long until the next general election?”

Anne laughed. “No use trying to get him out that way, Lady de Bourgh will always find him some sort of job.”

“Damn.”

Someone came over to them to tell them that they were ready to start the meeting and so they separated. As Lizzy sat in her seat she was relieved to discover that she was as far away from Collins as possible. Apparently her predecessor had common sense.

It was a long meeting but, to Lizzy at least, a very interesting one. Foreign Affairs had always seemed like something exciting and dynamic, and to witness first hand how things were done at Westminster was enthralling. Anne's interview had been unexpectedly short - Collins would not let anyone even remotely related to Lady Catherine de Bourgh be questioned for too long and when Lizzy tried to question Anne herself, Collins more or less said that as a female Labour politician she shouldn't be interfering. That annoyed her as she believed, or rather hoped, that sexism in politics had more or less ceased, and when other female members of the committee asked questions they were given the same response by the chairman. She thought that it was strange that a man who thought so highly of Lady de Bourgh would put down other females with some modicum of power.

Anne did not leave the meeting when her session was over, instead she sat in the public gallery which didn't appear to shock many people apart from the odd tourist. In fact it was as if the journalists were used to her - a few even started up conversations with her.

The next witness to come in was one Captain Frederick Wentworth who was to be asked about how the government's policies had affected the Navy and their actions, more specifically how one of the sailors had managed to nearly start an international incident by way of insults. Later he had been found washed up on a shore, and it was still unclear whether or not he had jumped or been pushed, and if the later - who exactly had pushed him.

“The name of the unfortunate..victim...was Musgrove, was it not?”

“Yes. Richard Musgrove.”

“And what sort of a man was he?”

Lizzy watched Frederick Wentworth as thought about it. He seemed confident and assured within himself and, in her opinion, was trying to find words to describe Musgrove that would not cause repercussions with the family. “Musgrove was a very naďve man, he made some foolish choices and was useless on a ship. It didn't surprise me when I heard what he'd done.”

“Do you mean when he committed suicide or when he started the fight?”

“The latter. He wasn't the sort of man who could kill himself, he didn't have the balls.” There was some laughter from the journalists and Lizzy looked at them. She inadvertently caught sight of Anne who was looking far less comfortable than when she had been in the chair.

“So are you blaming the government for his death?”

“I'm not blaming anyone Mr Collins, I just stated a fact.”

“Indeed?” Collins paused and glanced down at his notes. “I says here that you were born to a working class family in the North.”

“I was.”

“And as such you would naturally have Labour leanings.”

“I don't see what my political beliefs have to do with my evidence.” Frederick was starting to get annoyed with Collins as well and at that moment Lizzy would have done anything just to give the chairman a slap.

“Well surely you would want the Conservatives out of power so that your lot could get in!” He sent a nasty look Lizzy's way and she had to bite her tongue and not respond to his taunting. One of the other members was about to stop Collins - he had started to talk - but someone else spoke first.

“I hardly think that this line of questioning is relevant to Captain Wentworth's evidence.” It was Anne. She had risen and was staring at Collins in disbelief of what he had said. Frederick turned round just a little to see who had spoken up for him and for a brief moment he had seemed shocked. Then his face had reverted to its previous inscrutability.

“Of course Ms Elliot. If you think it best.” Collins was back to his simpering, moronic self.

Lizzy's nails cut into her palm.

That man!

The meeting was over and Lizzy was trying to avoid Collins. Earlier on this membership of the committee had seemed to be a dream, but now it was quickly turning sour. If only she could find a way to remove Collins...

“Anne, are you ready to go now?” There was a cavalcade of flashes at these words. If Lizzy had not recognized the voice then she would have wondered why there was such a fuss.

“Sure Will.”

Maybe if Lizzy didn't look at him then he would go away without noticing her.

Wishful thinking that.

“Will, do you know Lizzy Bennet? She's one of the rising stars in the Labour party, or so I hear, and she managed not to strangle Collins today.” Anne had moved towards Lizzy and Will had unwittingly come as well.

“Quite an achievement.” He sounded shocked. Why does he sound shocked? Why?

“Lizzy I'm sure you know Will.”

“Yes.”

“It's nice to see you again Lizzy.” Keep breathing, don't mention anything about that dinner. Calm down, you can't have an argument in front of the press.

“You too.”

She believed that Anne realized that something had happened between the two and she was grateful to her that she didn't ask any more questions. She changed the topic but unfortunately it was not one which Elizabeth really wanted to hear about.

“How'd your meeting with the demon go?”

“It was unbearable, as always.”

“Who is 'the demon'?” Will stared at her as she asked him and she couldn't make out what he felt at seeing her again.

“Do you really want to know Lizzy?”

“Of course Will.”

Anne had wandered off slightly and was now talking to one of her aides. Fortunately the press had mostly moved on and Lizzy would not have to worry about appearing in the newspapers the next day with a heavy blush on her face.

“It's Wickham.”

“Oh.”

Chapter Twelve

Posted on Saturday, 18 March 2006

Lizzy was wondering why she had even brought the subject up, but now that George Wickham's name was involved she knew that, whether she liked it or not, she and Will would have to tell each other the truth. If that hurt the other, if that made the other angry, then so be it ,but there were things about their relationship that needed to be said.

"Will, we need to talk."

"I couldn't agree more." He appeared cool and calm and collected, and consequently everything a Prime Minister ought to be, but inside his heart was hammering and a nervousness propelled itself throughout his body. For weeks, months, he had tried to find her so that he could apologize for his behaviour but she had seemingly disappeared. Jane would not reveal her location even to Charles but whereas his friend had been resigned to be patient, Will wasn't able to help going out of his mind. What if something had happened to her? What if she had gone forever and he would never see her again? Only the rational part of his brain reminded him that, although she might be head-strong and obstinate at times, she would not abandon her duties nor her constituency for an overly long period of time. So with that knowledge, and Knightley's arguments, he had left Netherfield and returned to London, from where he had begun to plan a cunning scheme which would hopefully outwit and outmanoeuvre Willoughby.

Lizzy looked round and saw that Anne had gone but the journalists were still there and, as she did not particularly want a public slanging match, she asked Will if they could talk in private. He got her meaning immediately and told her that he would meet her at her office as soon as he was able.

They parted and Lizzy trudged up to her office. It was a very small room, with almost no natural light but she had the good fortune to have it to herself. She reasoned that it was so minuscule that there was no chance of fitting in two desks and so the powers that be had left her at peace for once. When she had first arrived the office had been a very drab room, dark colours shrinking space, with very few features of merit. However now the blue walls and light colours alleviated some of the oppressiveness. She dumped her bag on the desk and went to pour herself some coffee ,her third of the day ,before relaxing in her chair. Lizzy was far too busy pondering how she had seemed at the meeting with Will and looking back on how he had reacted to her that she completely missed the knock on the door. It was only when the light came in that she noticed that there was someone else in that room. The someone else was, of course, Will.

"Hi. Coffee?" It was a trivial remark but it appeared to alleviate some of the tension and so she got up to pour the coffee. To her utter dismay the only cup she had left was a bright pink one with several very cute cartoon animals on it ,not exactly the personification of a serious politician. Trying to ignore the design of the cup, she handed it to Will who promptly raised an eyebrow (something which she saw was extremely adorable) but didn't comment any further.

"You like blue do you?"

"Pardon?"

"The walls."

"Oh yeah, it's a good colour."

"I'm surprised you didn't paint them red." She almost smiled at is words but refrained and carried on with the utmost sincerity.

"The red clashed with the cup."

"Touché."

They sat in silence for the next while until Will decided to tell her what he had wanted to earlier. Lizzy nearly choked on her coffee when she heard his voice and, although she managed not to do that, she did succeed in scalding her throat.

"Are you alright?" He asked after hearing her yelp of pain. She nodded and told him to continue which he did after a certain amount of hesitation.

"I was about to tell you about Wickham. The truth about him, please believe me about that. No matter what may or may not have happened between you, all I need is for you to hear me out." She nodded again and he continued after taking a deep breath. "Wickham and I were really good friends when we were younger. His father was one of the managers that my father employed. So we were always together through childhood and through adolescence, you know there were times when I truly believed that he was my best friend." He stopped and took a sip of his coffee. Lizzy was curious and she desperately wanted to know what he was going to tell her, but she did not rush him. If there was one thing she had learned about him it was that he was someone who liked to do things in his own time and by his own choice. "We went to university “ Cambridge “ and I worked hard, determined to prove to my father that I could do better than being the head of a company that I had inherited. I suppose I wanted to show him that I was independent. Wickham, on the other hand, had no such notions. He preferred to use his appearance to his advantage and, consequently, he managed to get scores of women to work on his behalf. You know Lizzy, I've often thought that maybe he should be in politics and not me."

"What would you do if you weren't Prime Minister?" She joked.

"Live a quiet life."

"You'd be bored, I think you're a man who likes to be doing something. I can't see you being content with hanging around gentlemen's clubs, smoking cigars and drinking whiskey."

"I'll have you know Miss Bennet, that there is nothing wrong with frequenting such establishments. For one thing, there are no journalists. No tabloid ones anyway." Lizzy realized that there was so much to this man that she didn't know. She'd judged him based on previous experience with upper class toffs and, although he had proved some of her ideas to be incorrect, the notion still persisted that he was only interested in power and money and everything that went along with it. With a start she understood that she wanted to know more about him. But there was still the question of whether or not he would forgive her, and whether or not she would let him. "Do you want me to continue?"

"Of course."

"Wickham and I grew apart at Cambridge, he had his set of friends and I had mine. In fact we rarely saw each other unless he wanted something, money, in case you did not figure that out. My father, however, still loved him as a son and still persisted to think that he was a person to be trusted. I knew otherwise but I would not tell him."

"Why not?"

"Do not think that it was out of some remnant of friendship for Wickham. On the contrary, anything of that sort had disappeared by the end of my first year at university. But my father was ill, he was dying, and I couldn't bear to upset him and spoil the little bit of life he had left."

"That's understandable, Will."

"But if he had known then perhaps he would have done something so that the events that followed might not have happened." He was silent and Lizzy thought that she could discern tears in his eyes. Slowly and cautiously she placed her hand on top of his, just to remind him that she was there.

"There's no point beating yourself up about something that you can't change."

"Always the optimist, Lizzy."

"Not always." For the briefest of moments his grip tightened on her hand but then he let it go. She felt oddly alone and longed, insanely, for the feel of his skin on hers again.

"So my father died, and I was left in control of all that he possessed. I don't mean to boast, but that's a lot, and it was hard for me. I was just embarking on a career in politics and all of a sudden I had the added responsibility of a worldwide business and a teenage sister. The former was much easier to handle than the latter."

"Is she like Lydia?"

"No! Heaven forbid." He looked at her sheepishly, "Sorry."

"Don't apologize. I'm well aware of my youngest sister's faults, believe me I have tried to make her aware of them too. Nothing seems to help though." He snickered, but not unkindly.

"No, Georgiana ,that's her name ,is the perfect angel of a sister. And I'm well aware that I'm coming dangerously close to an imitation of Charles. Georgie's always been good, there's never been any trouble out of her." He seemed to be lost in thought and, once again, Lizzy did not desire to interrupt whatever those thoughts were. "Anyway, back to Wickham. Father had left him a house in London in his will and that, we both had thought, would suffice. Wickham wanted something else, something which would bring him more immediate wealth. He asked me for one hundred thousand pounds instead of the property. I desperately wanted to get him away from what remained of my family, and so I acquiesced. Later I found out that he had it all spent within a matter of weeks, but then I was in ignorance and lived with the belief that George Wickham and I would never have to meet again."

"Did you?"

"Unfortunately, yes. Last year in fact, just before the general election. My sister went to France with her school and, although worried, I really thought that it'd be good for her; that it would give her a little bit of independence. There was one teacher who she really got on well with and I trusted her with Georgie's care." He took another sip of the coffee and Lizzy, realizing that she had not drank any of her coffee since the burning incident, also imbibed some. "She was having a brilliant time, she e-mailed me everyday ,and I was glad that she was enjoying herself. However, I wanted to see her, and so I flew off to meet her before she came home. When I got there, a most unwelcome surprise awaited me, Wickham. He was there, romancing my sister, persuading her that she loved him and that he loved her. I feared what lengths he had gone to, but my sister informed me that nothing of that sort had happened and, to be quite honest, I have never been so grateful in my life."

"Didn't her teachers do something? I mean, if Wickham's the same age as you surely they would have suspected something was wrong." Will let out a bitter, mirthless laugh.

"You'd have thought so, but they didn't. Or, more accurately, one teacher didn't, the one who my sister and I had trusted completely: a woman called Mrs Younge. I don't know how she knew Wickham, but she did, and she let that monster take advantage of Georgie."

"What happened? Did you get the police involved?"

"No, to my shame I didn't. I didn't want news of what had happened to my sister to get out and that, I fully admit, was selfish, stupid and ignorant. She assured me that nothing of a very serious nature had happened and although I was ready to kill Wickham, she persuaded me to do nothing." The room was quiet as they both reflected on what he had just said. To Lizzy it was incomprehensible why Wickham had tried to seduce the sister of a man who was arguably one of the most powerful men in the world. Then it struck her.

"It was the money, wasn't it?"

Will nodded. "What else? He was in debt and he needed a way to get that money quickly, they told me ,or more accurately, Georgiana told me ,that they were going to get married without a pre-nuptial agreement which I would surely have pressed upon him even if his intentions were honourable."

"I can't believe it."

"What did he tell you?"

"Wickham said that you were the one who went gallivanting around with countless women, that you got involved with his younger sister and proceeded to cheat on her." She was ashamed now to admit that she had once believed Wickham's horrid lies, the mere mention of what he had said seemed to taint her very person.

"That is not unexpected. I can see now why you turned to him." Sadness had crept back into his voice again and it became quieter as well. Lizzy, now more than ever, desired to tell him the truth of what had occurred that night.

"Will, there's something I need to tell you."

"What?"

"What I said to you, when you came over for the family dinner, may have been slightly exaggerated."

"Exaggerated, how?"

"I insinuated that I had slept with Wickham."

"Didn't you?"

"No." She dared to look up at him and the sight of his face was almost enough to reduce her to tears. There was a hope in his eyes, a happiness that she had not seen in what seemed like eternity, and in turn it filled her with joy and relief and contentment.

"What happened?"

Now she had to tell him the harder stuff. "We went back to my house and we did get...passionate." She heard him wince and it was only her strength that enabled her to continue. "I was going to...you know...but I couldn't. There was something, someone, in my mind that prevented me from giving myself to him." She paused and looked him straight in his deep, brooding, brown eyes. "It was you." His breath caught in his throat in amazement. "But he wouldn't stop. He pushed me and pushed me and I couldn't get away. I tried to but...for a while I thought that he would...you know."

"I'll kill him!" Will got up and stormed towards the door. Lizzy rose as well and ran after him, reaching him before he could throw open the door. Grabbing his arm, she brought him to a halt.

"Please don't. I couldn't bear what everyone would say if they knew. Please don't."

"Lizzy-"

"Please." Her voice was reduced to a whisper. "Please."

She noted his internal struggle and she wished so badly that he would find it in himself to do as she said and respect her decision. Eventually he nodded very slightly.

"Thank you, my love." She leaned into him and hugged his waist. He, however, did not respond. Instead, his body was stiff and restrained. "What's the matter?"

"You said 'my love'."

"I did."

"And why?"

She took a deep breath and moved away slightly before gazing up at him. "Because I love you."

Chapter Thirteen

Posted on Thursday, 6 April 2006

“You what?”

That was not how Lizzy expected Will to take that news. She had been waiting for an outburst of either anger or happiness or even dismay, but she had never believed that he would be shocked by what she had announced. That said, he did look extremely adorable when he was puzzled.

“I love you.” He did not respond immediately and she grew worried. What if he didn't feel the same way about her? What if he was going to break up with her?

“Thank you.”

Thank you? She told him that she loved him and he said 'thank you'? However she soon realized the need to appear completely nonchalant and mustered up a rather pathetic smile. “You're welcome.” Should this encounter not be filled with passion of one kind of another, and not pleasantries? He seemed to sense her astonishment at his answer, and so decided to try and make his words better, well as much as Will Darcy could.

“Will you go out for dinner with me tonight?”

“Tonight?” He nodded in response to her question. “Where would we go? I mean it's seriously unlikely that we can go incognito.”

“You don't want anyone to see us?”

“Do you?”

“Well, now that you mention it I suppose that it would be for the best if we were to dine in less public surroundings.” That knocked her again but she carried on, resilient little Lizzy that she was.

“What about my flat?”

“Your flat?”

“Where I stay in London, Will. Keep up!” She knew that he knew she was mocking him and was freed slightly more by it. “Remember that first night? A lot of alcohol, with a shot of misery. Well where we ended up, that's where I live. It's only rented.” She could see that Will was hesitant to end up there and attempted to ignore the annoyance that it caused within her. Why did he have to be a complete darling sometimes and a total snob at others? In her mind it was evident that Will would not lower himself to her standards...but she loved him and that love was meant to make her see past the faults. Wasn't it?

“I know, I can recall those events. But,” he raised his hand up through his hair and Lizzy found that when he did this he looked devilishly rakish. “I would rather go to my place.”

“Your place? As in 10 Downing Street?”

“No, my place as in my home.”

“And where would that be?”

“Derbyshire.”

She lifted an eyebrow in disbelief. “Will, don't you think that Derbyshire's a bit too far away for one meal?”

“I don't have any work tomorrow, well nothing organized anyway. And I know that you don't so...” She desperately wanted to ask him how he knew her schedule but refrained. That would quite possibly seem a little too needy. He suddenly seemed to think of something because his face quickly changed into an expression of panic. “I didn't mean anything by it, I mean I don't want you to stay with me in that way....Well I do but that's not the point. What I'm trying to say,” he told her, looking at her smiling face, “is that there are lots of spare bedrooms. You don't have to...well, you know.”

“Will,” she started off very seriously. “Has anyone ever told you that you're so cute when you're embarrassed?” At which point Will duly became, in Lizzy's eyes anyway, even cuter.

“Well, no. Possibly Caroline has at some point but-” He was cut off by her kiss. Soon the conversation, Will's cuteness and even Caroline Bingley were all forgotten about because all of a sudden the only thing that had been important to the other was theirs.

Will had flown down to his home almost as soon as his 'meeting' with Lizzy had finished, and at that moment the latter was waiting, rather impatiently, for her flight to be called. She had always hated airports and this one was no exception. It was possibly the hustle and bustle of the places which was always accompanied by crying children and harassed parents. So to pass the time, she had bought a political magazine which just so happened to have Will's picture on the cover. Complete coincidence of course, because there was a rather interesting article on page 43 that she wished to read. It was strange though, because she had never really been that excited about the government's position on GM crops.

“He's a right so and so that one.”

“Pardon?” Lizzy had been taken by surprise by an old woman who was sitting beside her. The old woman looked more like a battle-axe though, whereas another, much younger woman (whom she presumed was the daughter of the battle-axe) was huddled up in a million coats and scarves. Lizzy thought that that was dreadfully mean because it was at least 30°C in the departure lounge. She glanced towards the old woman again and saw that she was pointing, rather imperiously, to the magazine - in particular, to Will's picture.

“That Darcy man. One often wonders how the Tories could have voted in such a cretin.”

“He seems nice though.”

“Nice my eye. He's just waiting for another year and then he'll be off.”

“Do you think so? I gather that he's very committed to his work and,” Lizzy took a deep breath. “I believe that he's really devoted to his work.”

“Hmm, that's very interesting. I wouldn't have expected you to like him.”

“What makes you think that?” Lizzy was genuinely puzzled. What could this woman, whom she had never met before in her life, think about her? Why would she even bother?

“Your clothes, they are...how shall I put this? Rather plebeian.”

Before Lizzy could respond she heard her flight being called and decided, for possibly the first time in her life, to take the moral high ground and not argue. That wasn't to say that it wasn't hard to resist slapping the battle-axe when a smug expression formed on her face.

The flight was really quite short and smooth, despite her fears before they had taken off, and soon she had landed and was now wandering aimlessly, well maybe not aimlessly because she was trying to find Will or someone who he might have sent to pick her up. He had said he would after all.

“Ahem, Miss Bennet?” She whirled around to face the speaker who, she found, was a man wearing a rather impressive (but completely obvious) chauffeur suit. Well, she had never expected that from Will.

“Yeah, that's me.”

“My name is Arnauld Heger, Monsieur Darcy told me to wait for you.”

“How did you know that I was me? If that makes any sense.” They began to walk, Lizzy following Arnauld's lead.

“Monsieur Darcy told me to look for a very pretty lady.”

“He did?” Lizzy was touched that Will might have said that about her and immediately went back into 'giddy-mode' as Jane often called it. Not that there'd been too many such moments in her life, but she always found that good surprises were often the source.

“Oui, mademoiselle. But he also gave he a photograph.”

“Oh.”

“I hope that I did not offend you with what I said to you.”

“No, not at all. The reverse actually, because those words always sound better when they are spoken by a French man.” She caught a glimpse of a smile around Arnauld's mouth and barely refrained from grinning herself when she recollected the battle-axe from before. She so did not want to meet that woman again!

“Then, mademoiselle, you better not tell the boss.”

“Why? Would he be jealous?”

“Oui, most certainly. However there would be something far more dangerous than that.” She was mystified at what Arnauld was saying and couldn't decipher his meaning. Lizzy had always believed that Will could be very jealous and possessive and that suspicion had been proved when she had lied to him about what had happened between her and Wickham. Although, looking back on it, she wondered whether his behaviour had been due to his hurt upon discovering that the woman he's been sort-of seeing had slept (or not) with his former friend.

“And what would that be?”

“The danger is that if Monsieur Darcy was to know about your weakness he might try to exploit it.” At Lizzy's confused look he elaborated. “He speaks French very well.”

“Oh.”

It didn't take them very long to get to Will's house - or Pemberley, which Arnauld told her it was called. It was a funny name for a house, she thought upon hearing it the first time, but when they drove up the seemingly endless lane to it and came upon it, almost hidden by clusters of trees, she understood that the name did indeed do this magnificent house justice. Although she had known Will was rich (he was the Prime Minister after all), she had never imagined that he could be this wealthy. Then again, his father and his father's father and all his ancestors had probably been lords of the manor. Hmph, she thought, his family ruled over the sort of people who I stand up for. However, she imagined that there were no such things as chavs in those days - Lizzy was all for equality in everything but sometimes it galled one to know that someone was living off the state who actually was able to find work and a job. But not everyone was like that, she reasoned. I better stop - I'm starting to sound like Will!

She thought of that dashing, debonair man - Lizzy was tempted to think of Will as a 'dude' (purely for the alliteration) but it just didn't seem to fit. Somehow the image of Will in a Hawaiian shirt, topping up his tan while sleeping on a beach didn't exactly strike her as very likely. And anyway, he was far more appealing in a suit. And speaking of Will...

He was standing on the drive way as if he was watching to see her come and that caused that warm, bubbly feeling to well up inside her again.

It seemed as if time was unbearably long, for - to Lizzy - it took an eternity for the car to stop, for Arnauld to unlock the doors and for her to get out. However, the look on Will's face when he saw her again was more than worth the wait.

“Welcome to my humble abode.”

Chapter Fifteen

Posted on Sunday, 30 April 2006

Will woke and found that he was extremely stiff. For a moment he wondered what had caused this and why he had fallen asleep on the sofa. Then it all became clear, marvelously wonderfully clear. Lizzy had spent the night with him last night, well not spent the night spent the night but it was almost better than that. At least he knew that he hadn't gotten himself into any trouble so far, so that was progress.

But where was Lizzy?

He searched around him, eyes reluctant to face the blinding light of day, and discovered that she wasn't there. A jolt of fear rocketed through him - he wasn't sure if he could face another few months without her as he had done in the summer. He tried to get up but was promptly pushed back down. He smiled, relieved. It was Lizzy.

“Hey sleepy-head. I thought you were never going to wake up.”

“Lizzy, hi, wait...what time is it?”

“Half eight.” She sat down beside him, curling up to him once again. “I've got a terrible headache - I told you that I shouldn't drink.”

“You're trying to blame this on me now?” He caressed her hair which was still slightly messy and smelt the familiar Lizzy smell once again. If only all of his mornings could be like this one then maybe the country would be a damn sight better governed.

“No, don't worry. I'm a big girl, it's my own fault. At least it wasn't vodka though. Vodka goes straight to my head.”

“So wine doesn't then?” She hit him playfully and immediately regretted it.

“Ow, head.” He placed a light kiss on her forehead and rose, slightly more stably this time, to make them both some coffee. Not that he was sure it would do Lizzy any good, for all he knew she could become a monster after mixing alcohol and caffeine. Oh well, it was all that he could find in the house. All of a sudden he found himself wishing for Mrs Reynolds' return. As he made his way back into the room he heard Lizzy groan again, concerned, he asked her if anything else was the matter. She reddened and told him that it was nothing out of the ordinary. He was still mystified by her response but, because he desired a quiet and uneventful life as far as Lizzy was concerned, kept silent.

“Coffee. Love it.”

“I'm glad.”

“So what's the Latin for coffee then?” Off his startled, and slightly annoyed, look she expanded what she had said. “You keep insisting that Latin's useful for some things...”

“You keep going on like that, my dear, and you might be deprived of any of my future coffee offerings.” She laughed and moaned again.

“Will?”

“Yes?”

“Does your sister, I mean, does she leave her things here?”

“Yes, why?” Lizzy took a deep breath and looked away from him. To Will it seemed as though she was embarrassed which was a very odd thing indeed.

“Well, I was...that is, I need...you know....things.”

“Things?” Will didn't have a clue what she was going on about which he could see was frustrating Lizzy greatly.

“You know things.” She stressed the last word but he was still as ignorant as he had been previously. “It's my time of the-”

“Oh, okay. Right well, yeah, well I think-”

“Thank you.”

She left but Will was still quite disturbed by what had just happened. He knew the ways of the world and had even done Biology to A Level but he didn't want to think that his sister was old enough for those sorts of things, which was a reality he had had to face up to 5 years ago. The fact that Lizzy had talked about it had only increased his embarrassment. Well, at least there was an excuse for her to be cranky now.

In an attempt to clear his mind of such thoughts, he began to tidy the room - the wine glasses were still on the table and, he suspected, the stains too. And he really didn't want to face a very angry Mrs Reynolds. He was still doing this when Lizzy re-entered.

“Did you get-”

“Yeah.”

“Right. Good.”

He heard her give a little giggle which quickly developed into huge bouts of laughter. He wanted to ask her what was funny, if it was him because he really didn't enjoy being laughed at, but he didn't get that far because her contagious laughter got him as well. “That wasn't awkward at all, Will.” He shook his head, sobering up at the sight of her in his home. She looked so natural there and, in truth, there was nothing he wanted more than to make that dream a reality. He was about to ask her what she wanted for lunch when her mobile phone rang.

“Sorry, it's probably just mum.”

“Don't worry.” He made himself scarce while she spoke to whoever was on the other end. It was only when he couldn't hear her voice any more that he left the kitchen and made his way back to the living room.

Lizzy was standing in the middle of the room, phone still in hand, and looked absolutely horrified. His concern for her immediately outweighed any qualm he might have in asking her what was wrong, so, slowly, he walked towards her and placed a hand on her back. She didn't respond.

“Lizzy? Are you alright?”

Still nothing.

“Maybe we should sit down. Lizzy, come on.” She allowed herself to be lead by him over to the sofa, although he was sure that she wasn't really with him in that room. Her thoughts, her worries, her soul, seemed to be elsewhere.

They sat without either of them saying anything. As the moments passed Will became even more worried about what she had just been told. What if someone had died, what if something very bad had happened to them, what if...

“My sister.”

“What?”

“My sister...” Lizzy's voice was shaky, it appeared as though she was struggling not to cry. “Lydia, she's run away.” Well that was bad, but certainly not the absolute catastrophe that he had imagined. “She's run away with...with that worthless piece of scum...it's Wickham.”

“Wickham?”

“Her new boyfriend, remember?” She laughed bitterly. “You know, I really wish I'd told someone about him now.”

“You'll get her back though, the police are good at that sort of thing.”

“Will...I have to leave. Now. I, I understand why you don't want to see me again. I'll just get out of your home and go very far away.”

“Lizzy, I don't-”

“She's pregnant.”

“What?”

“Lydia's pregnant. She's not even in university yet and she's already got two kids.” She got up and put her coat on. “Talk about a disaster.” Will knew that he should move and tell her to stop, tell her not to go, that he would take care of everything. But he didn't. He left her to walk out, utterly stunned and outraged at Lydia and Wickham's behaviour. He barely heard her whispered goodbye. But he didn't respond.

And she left.

Then he heard someone else come into the room and walk over to him. “Will? Who was that?”

“Georgie.”

There must have been evidence of what he was feeling in his voice because his sister instantly became concerned. “What's the matter?”

“Nothing.”

“Please Will, tell me.”

“It's good to have you back.” He rose and made his way to the study. He realized that he would be ashamed at such behaviour later on, but right now all he cared about was Lizzy and making sure that he was the perfect, strong brother to Georgiana.

The minute he entered the study he picked up the phone and called Knightley, determination filling every bit of his body. He had the ability to do something about this disaster, he could fix things in some way for the Bennet family. And he would.

“Knightley, it's Will. I need you to do something for me.” He waited for the other man's assent before continuing. “I need you to trap another rat. His name? George Wickham. For what? The abduction of a girl, no she's seventeen, but I need to find her. Her name's Lydia Bennet.” He had long since given up hope of hiding anything from Knightley and had presumed that the man had already deduced the situation regarding Lizzy. Still, he had said nothing about it and for that Will was immensely grateful. He flipped through the paper that was sitting on his desk while Knightley went away to make enquiries about what action he could take. The absent-minded turning of the page stopped when he saw an article on page 8 - it seem to be an extremely serious matter to that paper, or at least at that time considering that pages 1 to 7 were dedicated to something that the England football team had done.

The article took up the entire page, although Will was sure that it probably merited more, and the photo dominated most of it.

Divide in the Cabinet

Sources in the Government have sensationally revealed last night that the Cabinet is dangerously close to falling apart. The reason for this is the ever increasing, and ever evident, hatred between the Prime Minister William Darcy and the Chancellor of the Exchequer John Willoughby. It seems as though all Cabinet members are being forced to choose sides in this ominous struggle for dominance.

At the time of the Darcy Harassment Scandal it appeared as though Willoughby was the saviour of the Conservative Party, quickly jumping to defend the alleged victim Miss Marianne Dashwood and, according to another such person, Lucy Steele as well. Darcy's career seemed to be over but, by some miracle, he managed to keep hold of his job when many others were calling for his resignation.

Now it emerges that Marianne Dashwood and Willoughby have developed a closer relationship which relies on something much more than just gratefulness. At a party which was held last night by the Ferrars (the eldest son Edward Ferrars is the Minister for Education) there came a devastating revelation.

Miss Dashwood came across Willoughby wining and dining another woman, socialite and heiress Majorie Lavelle, and - so I am told - was outraged at his behaviour. Allegations were brandied about concerning what he had forced her to do and how he had promised her that if she went along with what he said then they could be married. One can only presume that this was in some way linked with the Darcy Scandal, which is now becoming entirely false. The situation was quickly stopped when Dashwood's sister Elinor took her out of the building.

Who knows what this young girl has had to go through as a result of her infatuation with Willoughby, but surely the more important question is, what will happen now and how will the Prime Minster react to what his bitter rival has done?

Meanwhile, Marianne Dashwood's sister Elinor has been caught canoodling in public with Minister of Defence, Chistopher Brandon. A government spokesperson has yet to deny or confirm these allegations, but we at the newspaper feel that the photographs obtained are telling enough.

There will be more about this story tomorrow, but turnover for more photos of the magnificent Beckham's penalty

Well, well, well, thought Will, it seemed as though Willoughby had well and truly caused his own downfall.

Wasn't life brilliant.

Chapter Sixteen

Posted on Thursday, 18 May 2006

Lizzy was nearing her parents' house when she realized the enormity of Lydia's actions and calculated exactly how catastrophic the results would be for all involved. Her family would be devastated, her standing as a MP whose party promoted family values would be ruined, and most of all....most of all...she was convinced that Will would never want to speak to her again. For the second time during the car journey she found herself crying, a thing which deeply aggravated her. Why should she be concerned over Will? He was only a man, only one man in a world which held many others. But it was because she loved him, because his house had felt so much like her own home, that she was so saddened, and her fury at her youngest sister's actions, at that moment, knew no bounds.

Jane was waiting at the front door as she arrived. Lizzy immediately noticed that something was wrong with her sister, her appearance was haggard and some of her optimism seemed to have fled from her, but she would not ask. Not now.

“Oh, Lizzy! What are we going to do? Dad's phoned the police but, but what if they can't find her?”

“Don't worry, everything will be fine, you'll see.” She embraced her sister and let her cry on her shoulder. She had the impression that Jane had been putting up a brave face for the rest of the family. “How's mum?”

“She's not really coping. She won't come out of her room, won't even get up.” Lizzy dug deep into her jacket pocket and produced one rather crumpled tissue and handed it to Jane.

“Well, now that I'm here she'll have something else to talk about.”

“What would that be?”

“My lack of a partner. Not very surprising though.” They began to walk into the house, Lizzy carrying her traveling bag over her shoulder. Jane noticed this and questioned her about it.

“Have you been somewhere?”

“What?”

“Your bag. You never bring that bag home. You've been somewhere.” Lizzy felt herself redden against her will. “You do have a boyfriend!”

“Jane, that is, that is the most absurd thing that I have ever heard come out of your mouth. Really. I mean, the only people I get to talk to are 'stuffy old politicians'. The majority of whom aren't very nice to look at.”

“Lizzy!”

“Come on, lead the way to the mother ship.”

Their mother's room was every bit as messy and floral as Lizzy had remembered it, but the atmosphere this time was decidedly different. The rose patterned duvet cover was drawn up round Mrs Bennet's shoulders and she was in grave danger of getting lost in there entirely.

“Mum! Lizzy's here.”

“Oh, Elizabeth Bennet! See what you have done! Lydia would never have done this if you had not been so rebellious.”

“What?”

“All that nonsense your father has been filling your head with! Whatever happened to the time when women were content to marry and raise a family. I never needed a job and my life was fine before all that political mumbo-jumbo.” So the wailing continued, all the while Lizzy sat in a chair beside her mother's bed, biting her lip. Surely it would do no good to provoke her mother even more.

“Where's dad?”

“Your father went to that hell hole London to try and find Lydia and that horrible Wickham man! Goodness knows what'll happen to him!” And so started another burst of tears. Lizzy really didn't have the patience to put up with this, luckily Jane was there to stop her saying or doing anything to make the situation worse.

“Mum, maybe we should let Lizzy settle in, get unpacked. We'll be back up in a minute.”

Their mother let out a disgruntled sigh, “Why do you need to help her? She's perfectly capable of doing it herself.” Lizzy shot her mother a covert dirty look. “But if she really must have someone then Kitty, you go.” Kitty, to be perfectly frank, looked relieved to be granted an escape from that room and her mother.

They were soon in Lizzy's old room - she didn't think living out of the house would go down too well with her mum so she had stayed here for the moment - and Kitty immediately flopped down onto the bed.

“What's the matter with Jane? She seems very-”

“She's moping.”

“Why? I know that the Lydia thing is hard on her but..” Kitty interrupted yet again.

“It's not that. It's Charles Bingley - he's dumped her.”

Lizzy dropped a jumper she was unpacking onto the floor and then sat down beside her sister. She couldn't believe it! The few times that she'd been able to see them together she'd always presumed that the two of them were in love with each other - Jane, she knew, had definitely been affected by that madness - and she had been so sure that he had been as well. Gosh, what her sister must be feeling right now.

“He just sent her an e-mail. Couldn't phone, couldn't come in person. Said he was too busy in London.” They sat quietly, Lizzy still in a state of disbelief. “I think it was his sisters. I mean, he was like so into her and....I don't know. It's really strange.”

That made sense; his sisters had influenced him.

“Probably some of his snobby friends had a say too. Didn't you say that some of those politicians were completely up themselves?” Kitty's words had long since become inaudible to Lizzy's ears.

Snobby friends...

It couldn't be.

No.

It wouldn't be.

He wouldn't do it.

Would he?

“Lizzy? Lizzy? Oi!” Kitty whacked her on the arm.

“Ow! What'd you do that for?” Lizzy rubbed her arm and glared at her sister, concern over who exactly may have advised Bingley momentarily left behind.

“You were totally out of it. Jane says that tea's here.”

“Oh, ok. Tell her I'll be down soon. You can go, I'll just finish unpacking.” Kitty looked unsure, but soon her older sister shooed her out of the room anyway and so she went down to greet the pizza man. According to Kitty, fast food was becoming a firm fixture in the Bennet household.

I wonder if Will's managed to get proper food yet.

No, she wouldn't think of that. Not when his name was now so utterly associated with Jane's unhappiness.

She felt a pang of sadness and bitterness inside her and could sense the rage building up. Scowling, she grabbed her jumper and chucked it into a nearby drawer which slammed as she shoved it closed.

“Lizzy! Pizza'll get cold!”

“Coming!” Her reply was terser than she would have liked.

But then, maybe junk food and ice cream would do her good after all.

Dinner was over and Lizzy had run up to her room again, with the ruse of unpacking. In truth, she was obsessing about what she believed to be true - how could he do that? How dare he? What gave him the right?

A knock interrupted her inner rant and Jane hesitantly came in.

“What?”

“Sorry, I'll come back later.”

Lizzy put her head into her hands, trying to blink the tears back at the same time.

“Lizzy? What's the matter?” Jane rushed to her sister's side and pulled her into a hug. That was the final straw for Lizzy, and she just leant into her elder sister's embrace and let out all the tears she had been holding back.

“Oh Jane, Jane, this is awful.” She felt guilty; surely Jane was the one who should be in tears, not her. But then, she couldn't stop it.

“You don't have to tell me anything, but -”

“It's Will.”

“Will?”

“Will Darcy, you know - Charles' best friend.” She felt a bit, well a lot, guilty at bringing Bingley's name into the conversation, but it was done now and Jane would have to get used to the pain. “Men are stupid. They're stupid. Big, stupid men.”

“I know.”

“And Will's like the most stupid of all the stupid men in all of the stupid male dominated universe.”

“What's he done Lizzy? You're scaring me.”

She couldn't tell Jane - wouldn't tell Jane - what Will had done regarding her relationship with Bingley, but she found that she did have enough strength to divulge some of the information about what had happened between them. Her sister listened in silence throughout the whole account, occasionally tightening her grip on Lizzy's shoulders in an attempt to comfort her.

“Lizzy. Don't worry, everything'll be fine.”

“No, it won't! Will won't speak to me ever again and...” She took a deep breath and moved away from Jane's hug. “I wish I was as optimistic as you, Jane.”

The elder Bennet sister looked down at the floor and Lizzy could tell that she was thinking of Bingley. With the exception of a brief romance when she was in secondary school, Jane had never really been involved with many men and, as a result, had never faced this kind of betrayal before.

“I miss him. Charles, I mean.”

“I know.”

“I...Lizzy, I think I love him.”

This time it was Lizzy's turn to offer support to her sister. “Jane, just keep one thought in your mind.”

“What's that?”

“Men are stupid.”

Chapter Seventeen

Posted on Sunday, 28 May 2006

“Lizzy! There's a car...it's really, really fancy.” Lizzy rolled her eyes, thinking that Kitty was just flicking through a magazine and had found her dream car which she knew perfectly well her father would never purchase. No doubt if Kitty liked it then you'd need to win the lottery to afford it.

“And?”

“And it's coming here. To our house. Oh, wow! I wonder if it's a celeb. Peter and Jordan are meant to be around here somewhere!*”

“I highly doubt...” But she was drowned out by Kitty's chatter - it seemed as though, although not quite as frivolous as she had been while Lydia was still there, she was still very immature. Lizzy was determined to ignore her younger sister, but when Mary joined in she was forced to get up. There was indeed a very fancy car heading towards their home, and once it stopped Lizzy realized that it was a government car. Who would be coming?

For a moment she allowed herself to forget her suspicions regarding his advice to Charles and dared to hope that it was Will coming to see her and that he was going to tell her that he loved her and that he didn't care about her sister and Wickham and everything else.

That he loved her.

She had told him that but he had never replied. Now, she believed that the only person who would ever say those three words to her would be the caretaker at her office in London.

Then her dream was shattered when she saw George Knightley - the Home Secretary - jump out of the car. Now Lizzy had some respect for the man but it really was a bad thing to see him just at this moment. Would he gloat? No, she convinced herself, any dealings she'd had with him had told her that he was not that sort of man. But then, weren't men stupid?

“He's so fit!” Kitty shrieked, and Lizzy thought that her eardrums had exploded as a result of that hideous noise. “But he's kinda old. Maybe he has money though.”

“Money is the root of all evil.”

“Don't be such a communist, Mary! We've already got Lizzy and dad without you too.”

“I'm not a communist, Katherine,” Lizzy reminded her. She got up and went to answer the door, worrying slightly as she went.

“Hello, Elizabeth Bennet I presume.” George Knightley smiled at her - and Lizzy thought that even she could not find much malevolence in that gesture. She quickly corrected him that it was Lizzy, and not Elizabeth (which produced an undignified snort from Kitty and consequently a scowl from Lizzy) and escorted him inside. She was hesitant to put him with her younger sisters because of the almighty din that would undoubtedly come from at least the younger sibling, then again all the other rooms were in a shambles.

“These are my sisters, Kitty and Mary. Kitty, Mary this is George Knightley.” A dim sign of recognition came from the younger while the elder merely looked unconcerned - clearly politics was nothing when you had the force of God on your side.

“Pleasure. Call me Knightley.”

After niceties were exchanged and after a fit of giggles from Kitty, Knightley got down to business. “I had a call from someone who was very concerned about your sister, and I was asked to investigate it.”

“I bet you it was Bingley! I knew that he was super duper in love with Jane - I bet you they have some really tortured love. How romantic!” Knightley was taken aback by this outburst and Lizzy ashamed at her sister's lack of sense.

“Katherine, do be sensible for once in your materialistic life. It wouldn't be Bingley - Bingley's a complete waster. It's far more likely that it was Edmund; you know that he and Lizzy have always been good friends.”

“Yes...Yes it was Edmund.” Knightley seemed momentarily uncertain but then covered this with his trademark calm demeanour and related the story of how exactly the series of events which had brought him here had happened.

“And we found out that she was staying in London, that Wickham had taken her to some seedy place there and...well, she might have been in the best of spirits but that's all I can say.”

“You've found her? You've really found her?” Lizzy could feel the tears pricking in her eyes out of relief. “Jane! Jane! Come quickly!” Soon the four remaining Bennet sisters were gathered in the living room with one thanking Knightley so much that he felt embarrassed by such attention.

“Really, it's no trouble. No trouble at all.”

“But thank you George.”

“No, Jane it's fine, really.” Jane was already in tears and their mother, who had realized that the din coming from her daughters must signal something extremely important, came rushing down the stairs.

“Lydia! Oh, Lydia has been found! Oh, thank you sir. She can be married now.”

“Mum, they mightn't want to marry. Loads of people don't these days.” Mrs Bennet let out a sigh of indignation at the thought that her beloved daughter would not get married.

“Lizzy! Don't be so stupid! Of course she will and then, oh I just know that Wickham will be the perfect father.”

It was evident that her mother was already far too carried away with this dream for Lizzy to bring her back to reality. Then it occurred to her that her father would need to be told, she explained this and was about to head out the door when Knightley called back that Mr Bennet had been told just this morning. To everyone in the household that day, Knightley appeared as the saviour and as a prince of men - and any thoughts of Charles Bingley or Will Darcy were not present in anybody's mind.

Knightley had declined Mrs Bennet's invitation to stay for tea and had pleaded that he must be away, that he had to journey back to his own home to get to know his friends once again. The disappointment that matriarch felt would be hard to describe, but suffice to say that she was already planning his wedding to Jane.

“Oh Jane! He would be such a good man to have around, and he gets paid a lot too.”

“No, mum. I'm not ready yet.”

“But Jane-”

“I'm sorry, I can't.” The discussion was only stopped when the phone rang and Lizzy went to answer it. However, Mrs Bennet - who was convinced that the caller would be Lydia - picked up the receiver instead and promptly put it on loud-speaker.

“Mum? Is that you?”

“Lydia! I've been hearing so much about you!” Lizzy rolled her eyes. Only her mother could manage to put such a positive spin on events that now the youngest daughter was something like a heroine.

“You should see the ring that Wicks bought me, it's gorge!”

“I knew he'd get you a big diamond! And to think that you did all this on your own - you've never even had a job! Oh, I'm so proud of you.” No doubt maternal tears were welling up right now.

Lydia's voice lowered - as if she was trying to be secretive (which Lizzy thought she was failing miserably at), “You'll never guess who's here. It's only that guy that was at Sunday dinner with us - the one who works with Lizzy. Quite cute, not as much as Wicks but can anyone be?”

“Oh, you mean William Darcy?”

“Yeah. Oh by the way Kitty, I saw these fantastic shoes that would suit you so well.”

And so the conversation went on, but Lizzy was in too much of a spin - Will was there? What was he doing? Rubbing her nose in it? No, no he wouldn't do that. Maybe, just maybe, he had heard of what Knightley was trying to do and had come to see the results. Yes, that was definitely it.

“Oh, and Jane - guess who I saw the other day! Charles Bingley - looking as fit as ever. He kept saying something about how Will had to have been wrong - I dunno what he said actually, but your name came up lots.” And thus Lizzy was brought back to the world and to her life with a bang.

Damn Lydia.

And Will.

And Charles may as well be thrown in there for good measure.

Their father had arrived home a far more somber and severe man than when he had left. It appeared as though he had taken Lydia's behaviour as a sign that he was a bad father, and Lizzy was sure that the fact that he had to get a Conservative to help him out only made things worse. From the moment he entered the door he barely spoke to them apart from some warning to Kitty that if she ever thought of copying her sister's behaviour then he would disown her immediately.

“Dad?” Lizzy knocked on the door of his study the night after he had returned. She was starting to get worried by his period of self-imposed isolation and had brought his dinner to him as he had refused to come out when Jane had declared it ready. She received no answer from her father but decided to go in anyway, convinced that even though he may want to be alone it was perhaps not the best thing for him at that time.

“Lizzy, how did I fail so badly?”

“You're not a bad father - Lydia has always been that way and I don't think that you could have done anything to change her.” He sighed and leaned further back in his chair.

“I could have spent more time with her, chided her less. Sometimes I think that the only good thing to come out of her existence is my granddaughter.” He looked up at her, a bitter smile on his face, “Now tell me that those are the words of a good father.”

Lizzy found that she couldn't and at the same time came to the conclusion that perhaps Lydia and the other younger daughters had felt as misunderstood to their father as Lizzy was to her mother. Perhaps if things had have been different, if their parents' marriage was more amicable then maybe...

“Dad, why did you and mum get married? Was it only because she was pregnant?”

“I....I would like to believe that, at that time, I was in love with her.”

“But you weren't.” Certainly, she had always known that their marriage was never as loving as other couples', but she had always wished that there had been some affection on either side.

“I was infatuated with your mother, she was so beautiful and I was so disillusioned with the world. I made a mistake.”

“You made a mistake?” Lizzy found her rage starting to build up. “Is that all your children are then...mistakes? They must be then if you believe your marriage to be!”

“Lizzy, calm down. You know that I love you and Jane.”

“But what about Mary and Kitty and Lydia, huh? What about your other children?”

Mr Bennet picked up a book from his desk and started leafing through it. Eventually he rose and placed the book in her lap. “This is my diary. Read it. Discover me then, for yourself.” She picked up the book and pressed her fingers against it's cracked spine, feeling all the hollows and ridges which age had left. “And Lizzy, if you do something for me, make sure...make sure that you marry someone you love. Don't live your life the way I have mine.”

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