Strangers In the Night ~ Section I

By Alethea

Section I, Next Section

Prologue: Part Of Me Is Lost.

Posted on Friday, 2 June 2000

And so the Day, about to yield his breath,
Utters the Stars unto the listening Night
To stand for burning fare-thee-wells of light
Said on the verge of death

~Sidney Lanier

Night falls upon the day like a curtain at the end of a glorious play, or as so many authors and poets in the past have said. And I do not disagree with them. Morning is the beginning. Day is the middle. Dusk is the warning. And night is the end. Night is an ending. A beautiful ending to an occurrence equally astounding. It is a slow, magnificent change in nature. The darkness covers the earth as the mighty sun slowly descends. The moon glows, shedding a soft, mysterious light upon the quiet stillness. It is the only source of light that penetrates my dark surroundings tonight. I look up at the sky. Gigantic gray clouds loom above me, and I can see no stars out tonight. I remember a time when use to look up to the stars for guidance - when I was a young, foolish dreamer. But I, Elizabeth Bennett, am no longer a dreamer and there are no stars.

I approach the bank of a peaceful river. It is too calm. Too different from my confused mind and my disconsolate state. My eyes catch my reflection on the still water.

Although many have considered the Bennett girls to be quite beautiful (my sister Jane is the image of a goddess, no matter what she thinks), I have never seen anything too appealing in my own features, especially on this dreadful night. I do not know myself. I look so much older than I am. I no longer see the witty twenty-one year old full of hopes and aspirations that existed what seemed like years ago. It really was only a matter of months. That cheerful person is gone. That person existed before I knew about his condition...before I and everyone else knew that he was deteriorating slowly. Meeting his end. Meeting his night. Unrecognizable eyes look back at me. Dark and tearful, they reflect the sadness and confusion that make my head spin. He will never return.

It is quiet here. Still. Someone once said, "Silence is golden." I have really come to appreciate the meaning of that phrase. Silence. It has given me something that even dear Jane could not today: comfort and solitude. Unsettling as it may seem to others, the silence is oddly comforting. It is what I need. I am usually not this afraid to talk to others...this is not my typical reaction. Closing up is new to me. But, the wall I have created gives me space. I need space. Here in my sanctuary, enveloped in the night, I can think. I need time to think and time to understand...to understand everything.

He is gone. Gone. Dead.

He is nothing more than a memory to some. A shadow.

But not to me. Never.

Call me Elizabeth. That is the name he chose for me.

Today I am one of life's most miserable members. Today I begin to understand one of the hardest lessons life gives us the opportunity to understand: letting go of someone you love. Letting go is too hard. Too painful. As Emily Dickinson once wrote, "Parting is all we know of heaven, And all we need of hell."* The past few months can only be described as hell. I am left afraid, scarred, and wounded. I am too vulnerable now.

Empty.

Fragile.

Vulnerable.

I need someone. I need more than comfort. I need hope.

The tears fall more steadily now. I feel that I could "cry a river and drown the whole world."** I tell myself to be strong, but my bewildered mind and my breaking heart dwell within a dangerous state of loneliness and blindness - where anyone can fill the void...even strangers.

*from Emily Dickinson's "My Life Closed Twice Before Its Close"
**from Nine Days song "Absolutely Story of A Girl"

Chapter 1: The Burial

Posted on Friday, 2 June 2000

For Crysty. Thank you for your help.

Today he was buried under the soil of the earth. I looked at him for the last time. His features were so old. His body was still visibly tired from the suffering he had to endure. My hand reached out to touch his face. It was so cold. I shuddered. G-d forbid I remember him this way.

It was so cold outside. The cold that touched me felt like the cold touch of his face. Dark clouds hung above us. I remember thinking that everything around me was dark and dreary. Our clothes especially caught my attention. All of us wore black. It is a tradition, or so they say. It is a sign of our mourning. Our sadness. I looked down at my black dress. This is depressing. Soon tears fell from my eyes once again. My face longed to be hidden, and I found myself staring at the ground.

It was a simple ceremony. Quiet. Small. Simple. The way he would have liked it. Those who gathered with us today were only close family and friends. People he touched and knew well. I dried my tears, and found the courage to look. I lifted my head as my uncle stepped up to speak. I did not want to listen but my ears captured some of his words of sorrow.

"I will never forget him," cried my uncle. "He was a wonderful man. I..." He looked at us. My mother. My sisters. Me. He looked directly at me, and failed to continue for a few moments.

I could not look at him as he spoke. Tears came and I did not want to face him. So, I looked around. But the site was not comforting. Grieving faces. All people I knew. My uncle continued, "When he talked about those who had died, Walt Whitman once wrote 'They are all alive somewhere; / the smallest sprout shows there is really no death; / And if ever there was, it led forward life, and does not wait at the end to arrest it, / And ceas'd the moment life appear'd./ All goes onward and outward, nothing collapses, / And to die is different from what anyone supposed, and luckier.'* Death is not an end. Death has not taken him away from us. He is still alive. He lives in all of us...through memories, through the lessons he has taught us ...because of that he will live forever."

I listened to his words and reflected, then softly to myself I said, "Yes, he will never be forgotten. But, things will never be the same again."

My uncle once again continued and I could not face him any longer. I kept repeating in my mind "this is not happening," "this is not happening." But it was. My futile attempts to block out reality were failing.

I turned around and my eyes locked with another pair of eyes. I gazed upon this unfamiliar face. Wondering. Certain that I had never met this mysterious man before, I could not help but stare. His face was young and handsome. I was intrigued, but turned away. My mind drifted back to the ceremony.

"Ashes to ashes, dust to dust."

I could no longer hear the priest's words. I drowned out all the cries and sobs. I was so distant. Detached. Removed. So much was going on around me but I was not there.

Soon the service was over. The small crowd that had gathered slowly dispersed. My family waited for me. I knelt next to the stone that marked where he was buried. I placed a bunch of beautiful, vividly colored flowers in front of the cold, gray stone. I ran my hand across the simple epitaph we had chosen:

Thomas Walter Bennett

Loving husband and father

19__-19__

I started to cry again. I kissed the cold stone.

"Why did you leave us daddy? You told me you would always be there. I love you. I will miss you. I can't believe I am saying this...Good-bye."

*Walt Whitman's "What is the Grass?" from a Song of Myself

Chapter 2: Troubles & Worries.

Goodbye. I could not believe I was saying good-bye so soon. It was too soon. Life was not going to be the same without him. My dad.

I have always been daddy's little girl. Always. Mother never held much interest in me. Papa did. Needless to say, we were very close. He was more than a father. He was a friend.

He was my confidante when Jane, my oldest and favorite sister, was away. He taught me so much about life. He read to me. He listened to me. Being an observant man, he taught me how to analyze people and think about what I could learn about them. We loved our playful conversations together. He was a remarkable man. Interesting and wonderful.

He gave me hope. And when they told me he died, my hope died with him.

Hope. It is so valuable and precious.

Father always said that nothing was out of my reach. He believed in me.

In my potential. In my worth.

He cheered me up when times were down. He taught me the value of hard work and dedication. He always told me that nothing could stop me from following my dreams as long as I kept my mind active and kept my feet on the ground. He supported me and listened. Papa.

I close my eyes in nostalgic remembrance.

He was my inspiration. My hope. He was my father. And, to put it directly, I simply adored him.

Mother is very different from my father. They had been married for over twenty years. Sometimes you must wonder how they survived together so long without killing each other. They always had their differences. Always bickering about something. If they stopped arguing that is when you would wonder if something was wrong. Of course, their arguments were usually petty, and their bickering was more affectionate then anything else. It was a consequence of my father's delight in "vexing" mother, as she puts it.

My mind recalls an image of my mother when we were very young. This image was repeated over and over again throughout the times they shared together. I can still see her running around the house telling my father: "Thomas," she would say, "Thomas Bennett you have no compassion on my poor nerves!" Then she would throw a fit and lock herself in bathroom until my father would come and get her out. My father would just laugh. They would kiss and make up. The memory made me smile.

A smile. My face had not smiled in such a long time. The gesture seemed so new.

I love my mother. I really do. Despite the fact that we fail to get along. We are very different people, mother and I. Mother enjoys gossip, and criticism is her forte. She loves to boast of her daughters' gifts and she constantly compares. Her captious comments are less then pleasant and often get us into embarrassing situations. We disagree on almost everything. From fashion to employment to men. "I do not dress well." "I should not work here." "I should get married." I even say "to-ma-to" and she says "to-mah-to." Sometimes I wonder if she does this purposely...Nonetheless, she is my mother despite this, and I love her. I have made efforts to learn how to deal with her antics and behavior. Gradually I hope to overcome her "match-making ways." Her behavior does not irritate me... No, that is not true. They no longer irritate me much as they once did.

"Oh Girls! What will become of us!"

My mother was crying hysterically in the background. I really felt sorry for her. Even if they did not seem to get along, mother really loved my papa. I could see apprehension and melancholy in her blue eyes. Jane tried to calm her down. "Mama I am sure things will be better. Papa took care of us. I am sure that he would not leave us alone with nothing!" Just like Jane.

What will become with us?

It was a question that racked my brain ever since father found out about his illness. For once I understood why my mother was acting so hysterically. We did have cause for worry. Troubles lay ahead.

None of us know much about Papa's past. He never mentioned it. He came from England to the United States in the late 1950s. When he was settled and married, he started his own business. A bookstore. He loved books, and spent a lot of time in the library when we were at home. He enjoyed the silence, especially when Mama was running around the house getting all of us together for dinner. He would now have silence forever.

The library. It was his favorite place. I remember Papa reading to us as children. Those days seemed so simple. Complexities just did not exist. I felt so safe on that big leather chair on his lap as he read me fanciful stories about damsels in distress, knights in shining armor, and princes and princesses. Princesses. I was his little princess. He always called me that. He would read until I fell into a deep sleep full of dreams.

Bennett Books. That was what he called the bookstore. Father was so proud of it. It was in this bookstore where father made his living...our living. Father was our primary provider. Mother stayed at home and took care us children. We were never really in need of money because the bookstore always seemed to make enough money to take care of us. But with father gone, I knew we were headed into financial trouble.

Money. It is nothing but paper. A materialistic object. A green thing. I really do not care for it much, but we need it because it is the way the world operates. Money meant we could live. Money is security.

Mama could not work. We could never let her work. She is exhausted. Caring for papa had taken its toll, and I fear for her health. Jane and I must take care of everyone. It is our obligation. Sweet Jane. She is my greatest friend. At 23, my eldest sister has pursued her passion and has dedicated her life to serving others as a nurse. We are only two years apart. I am studying to become a lawyer, but this goal of mine may be put on hiatus for a while. Our careers were second to our family, and going to all our personal affairs, would not get the money we needed right now.

Money. I detest the word.

We needed money to put my three younger sisters through school. Along with the everyday pressures from school and friends, father's death added to the stress for all of them. He loved all of us so much. Mary, 18, finished started her last year of high school this fall and she must think about college and graduation. We have to find a way to pay for tuition. Kitty, 17, and Lydia, the youngest at 15, are both young and naďve. I worry about them. I am concerned about their behavior, especially Lydia's lack of decorum. She is immature and spoiled, yet she is mother's favorite and rarely gets punished for her actions. Father kept her in line but now, father is no longer here to discipline her.

Money. Its green color rules the world.

Stress. Too much of it.

Help. We need it.

Bennett Books. A problem. But I am determined that the store will not close down. No. Father worked too hard to keep it alive. He spent long days and hours for this store. He put his heart and soul into Bennett Books. I am not going to lose it. I will not let father down. I will provide for the family. I will carry the burdens. I will make my sacrifices. Sure, I am only making my way into this world of ups and downs, but I owe him this and I am determined.

Yet...a feeling of hesitation and uncertainty exist. I think I can do it but there is no feeling of certainty...that I know I can do it. I am so anxious. Worried. Scared.

Could someone help me forget these problems? Help me overcome this unwonted insecurity?

I lay Vulnerable still.

Oh father...

Chapter 3: And It Hit Me Hard.

Posted on Saturday, 3 June 2000

Author's Note: The poem that is started in the beginning is by Emily Dickinson.

I measure every grief I meet
With analytic eyes;
I wonder if it weighs like mine,
Or has an easier size.

I wonder if they bore it long,
Or did it just begin?
I could not tell the date of mine,
It feels so old a pain.

I wonder if it hurts to live,
And if they have to try,
And whether, could they choose between,
They would not rather die.

Jane's gentle voice calling my name brought me back to reality. To the reality I just could not justify or believe just yet.

"Lizzy." She was worried. I guess I had given her cause for it. I had not spoken many words to anyone lately. "Lizzy." She came and touched my shoulder gently.

"Yes, Jane. I am here." She looked at me tearfully. I must smile for her sake. I ventured to form one from my mouth but I could not. It would be best if I did not live deceptively. I might as well face the truth. Facing the truth is living is it not?

"Lizzy, I think it is best if we go home. It is getting late. Almost everyone has left and Mama needs her rest."

Dear Jane. Ever caring and kind.

"Jane." I looked at her again. Her usually blue, playful eyes were dull and full of grief. "Jane, I would like to stay here for a little bit longer. I have the other car anyway, so I can drive home later."

"I don't want you to be alone. Please let me stay. I am so worried about you. Please don't let me leave you here. You haven't said anything to me since he...Papa...Lizzy, don't do this! Don't close up. Let Aunt Julia take them home and let me stay...please"

She was crying. I knew how much Jane did not want to see me like this, but I was filled with the need to hide away behind that wall I had built. I did not want to hurt her. I did not want to be selfish. I did not want to cause more pain, but I just needed to be by myself.

"Jane, I am sorry. Please. I need time by myself. Please understand."

She held my hand and squeezed it tightly.

"I understand. I just don't want you to go through this by yourself. We are always here for you. "

I nodded.

"Promise to come home soon. It is getting dark."

"Jane, I want to thank you. Thank you for understanding me. And, I am sorry Jane."

"What are you apologizing for?"

"I know that I have been very distant lately. I promise that I will be my old self again." In my heart I knew I would never really be the same Lizzy again.

"Don't hide behind that wall for too long, Liz. Daddy would not have wanted it that way, you know." She hugged me. I felt the dampness her face as she embraced me. I handed her a tissue.

"Jane, please go. I will be home soon. Take care on the way home."

"Okay. I still don't want to leave you..." At looked into her eyes with determination and stubbornness. She knew there was no way to change my mind. I was resolved to stay.

"Goodbye, Jane." Slowly, she walked away from the place we had ventured off to and collected my family to go home.

I turned and walked in the other direction. I followed the path back to the place where my father now lay. The cemetery was desolate. I was alone.

Solitary.

Thinking.

I looked at the stone again.

Unbelieving.

G-d had taken him away from us. He was gone. Truly gone. How can I bear this pain?

I wonder if when years have piled--
Some thousands--on the cause
Of early hurt, if such a lapse
Could give them any pause;

Or would they go on aching still
Through centuries above,
Enlightened to a larger pain
By contrast with the love.

Memories flooded my mind.

Recall & Remembrance.

The good times and the bad times.

I felt the emotions that we had felt once again.

I remember a character in a book that I once read say, "Feeling is not selective, I keep telling you that. You can't feel pain you aren't gonna feel anything else, either. And the world is full of pain. Also joy. Evil. Goodness. Horror and love. You name it, it's here. Sealing yourself off is just going through the motions, get it?" *

I have had my share of joy. Emotions evoked all through out my life. Pride. Anger. Sadness.

Love.

Now, I am having my share of pain. Grief. I am feeling it more then I ever had before. And it is hitting me hard.
Why was he taken away from us? Why?

The grieved are many, I am told;
The reason deeper lies,--
Death is but one and comes but once,
And only nails the eyes.

There 's grief of want, and grief of cold,--
A sort they call 'despair;'
There 's banishment from native eyes,
In sight of native air.

And though I may not guess the kind
Correctly, yet to me
A piercing comfort it affords
In passing Calvary,

To note the fashions of the cross,
Of those that stand alone,
Still fascinated to presume
That some are like my own.

~Emily Dickinson

I wept. Not able to think about what was going on around me. I felt the tears. Everything was a blur. Nothing seemed to make sense, then...

Suddenly, I heard footsteps treading on the ground behind me. I was unaccompanied in a cemetery during the dark hours of the day. I was frozen. Frightened. Trepidation. Foreboding thoughts registered in my brain. A wave of fear surged throughout my body. A voice came from behind me...

*from Ordinary People by Judith Guest.

Chapter 4: An Unforseen Encounter

Posted on Sunday, 4 June 2000

I shivered.

The frigid November weather made the affecting atmosphere harsh and bitter. Hitting my tear-stained face insensitively. It was cold, to be sure, but my shivering at the moment was not be caused by the weather conditions. No, my body shook from fear and dread.

I upbraided myself for carelessly deciding to be left alone. I was so stupid! Was I out of my senses to think it would be safe here alone in a dark, secluded cemetery? Why did I isolate myself? Why did I not have Jane stay with me? Another mistake. I have made too many.

Now it is too late. If something was going to happen. It would. There was nothing I could do anymore. The person moved closer to my body and a sound traveled to my ears.

"Are you okay?"

It was soothing. Smooth. The deep, masculine voice was foreign to me, but its tone and approach allayed my fears. It seemed sincerely concerned. I was oddly relieved. I had no knowledge about the stranger behind me, but from his voice I felt that he would not harm me. Ever.

But, as soon as I breathed that breath of relief, I rapidly felt invaded. Those fearful thoughts I felt just moments ago vanished, and I wanted to be alone again. I wanted the man behind me to leave. I willed it. I hoped it. I wanted to retreat behind the fragile shell of my imagination, but my wishes were in vain because he did not go. His worried voice. It asked once more.

"Yes. Yes, I am fine. Fine," I snapped at him. In my mind I knew I was far from fine.

As I said this, I finally turned around to look at the owner of that unique voice. My eyes met his. Those eyes. Recognition slowly descended. Eyes that I found so fascinating earlier. Eyes belonging to the mysterious man that attending my father's funeral. I could not tear my eyes away. My mouth felt like it had separated from my face and dropped to the ground.

"I am sorry to have bothered you. I just wanted to make sure..." That voice again. It was so rich. Clear. Gentle.

He muttered something else, but I was not paying attention to what he said anymore. I was so intrigued by his person. Captivated. With everything.

His body.

His expression.

His gestures.

His face.

His eyes. They sparkled in the clearest of blues.

G-d, he was so gorgeous. I found myself staring. My brain was not functioning properly. I had lost my motor skills and verbal capabilities for moments. Why was I so abrupt? Somehow, my brain decided to form a reply and I found the courage to speak again.

"I...I am sorry I was so rude, its just...I mean..." I was grasping for the right words. I was rude and abrupt because I did not want to talk to anyone about father. I had no right to be. But I could not explain myself. Is there an easy way to pronounce, right out, that the father you loved is dead? I did not want to say it. I hesitated. Uncomfortable. Yet, Mystified by him.

Flustered. No one else has played with my emotions this way since...that fateful day when stars still guided me...another unforgettable mistake... Other memories return, but I turn away from them as the voice speaks again.

"I understand. I am so sorry."

He understood.

I looked at him again. He looked so gentle, and the way he offered sympathy seemed so genuine. I started to cry again.

"I am sorry. I hate it when people see me cry."

"No. Don't be." His hand held out a handkerchief.

"Thanks."

He still did not go. We sat in silence for a long time. Or maybe what seemed like a long time. I had lost all sense of time. So I could not tell. I caught him staring at me. I looked at him. Baffled & Curious. Finally, it occurred to my brain to wonder "who was he?" He was just a stranger out of the blue who "understood." Questions flooded my already confused brain. I wanted answers. I did not have answers to many things of late and this man had better supply me with information I wanted to know. Someone should tell me the answers to everything and anything. Soon, filled with the absolute need to get answers, my mouth shot off a barrage of words. My voice, long lost, was found.

"What were you doing at the funeral today?"

"Who are you?"

"Did you know my father?"

I bombarded him with questions. His eyes emoted a feeling of astonishment. Despite the tediousness and length of my spiel, he listened carefully. When I had finished, he spoke again. He looked at me and smiled slightly.

"So you are finally going to talk to me! Now, let's see if I can answer your questions. Yes, I knew your father. Not directly though. My father knew your father, the late Mr. Bennett, when he lived in England. He visited my father last a very long time ago. They were friends. I read about the death of your father in the local obituaries and decided to pay my respects. My father used to tell me about him. Father admired him very much. He was a wonderful man...I am sorry."

I was stunned and even more bewildered. This was just a little too bizarre. Why would the son of my father's friend even want to see us? A family that had never met him in his life. He had probably never even met my father.

...But, I accepted what he said. I believed him. I believed every word.

"You looked very surprised. I guess your father never mentioned his friends across the Atlantic." He smiled at me. I felt my knees go weak.

"He corresponded with my father until recently of course." That would explain father's letters from England every month.

I could only nod my head. Just absorbing this new found information like a sponge.

This man was different. I could tell. Suddenly, I remembered that he failed to introduce himself.

"I am sorry, sir, but you neglected to mention your name."

"Pardon me. I should properly introduce myself." He flashed me another one of his handsome smiles.

"My name is George Wickham. It is nice to make your acquaintance, Miss Bennett."

He just looked at me and smiled. I just did what I thought was polite, and smiled back.

Chapter 5 -- The Kindness Of Strangers

Posted on Wednesday, 7 June 2000

Whoever you are-I have always depended upon the kindness of strangers.
~Blanche DuBois from Tennessee Williams' play "A Streetcar Named Desire"

I came to the cemetery for my father's funeral depressed and miserable. I felt empty and distant. When Jane left me, I wanted to be all by myself. An island. Desolate and isolated. Yet, I found that I could not hide from the pain nor ignore what was true. I found that I needed to talk to someone. I found that I could not be an island. I had to make contact with somebody before I burst with all the emotion pent up inside. So, here I was, only a few hours later, sitting under an old, knotted tree near my father's tombstone. Was I alone? No. I was no longer alone I was joined unexpectedly. Yet the meeting, I found, was not unwelcome. Under that entangled tree, I opened myself up to another person. An unfamiliar person.

A man.

A man with a handsome countenance and a heartfelt look.

A man who I knew nothing about except a name.

A man who was a perfect stranger, and yet despite this, a man who I allowed to sit besides me on a day I had turned away all my closest relatives and friends.

This man's name was George Wickham.

My smile disappeared as, I suppose, pathetic fallacy decided to kick in. The weather began to fit the dreary situation. As we sat under the tree, rain fell from the gray skies above. The tree was large, huge. I looked up and spotted a few red and golden leaves among the dead, withered brown that sheltered us from the cold, gelid drops coming from above. My eyes wandered onto his face. He watched me, and we stared at each other for a few minutes in silence. I was Curious. Analyzing.

Then, something he said broke the protracted silence. His smile had not disappeared. It was refreshing to see a happier face.

"According to my father there are five beautiful Bennett sisters. I must say he was not wrong in that judgment from what I have seen. " He looked directly at my face, and I felt my cheeks glow. "Now that you know my name, may I know which Miss Bennett are you?"

"My name is Elizabeth. Elizabeth Bennett."

"Elizabeth is a lovely name." Again, I felt myself blush.

"Thank you."

Thus, my affinity towards this mysterious stranger began.

He made an effort to make interesting conversation. Soon, he was able to talk to me. To pull me out of from behind the wall that I was determined to hide behind.

We talked.

We conversed.

He even told a small joke that made me laugh.

Talking.

Conversing.

Laughing.

I shocked myself.

These things felt so wrong to do. Was not my father just buried? I should be grieving not laughing. These things felt so new to me, just like the smile. I felt guilty, but I welcomed them. I learned what it felt to be happy again through his small talk and cheerful character.

Then I let it all out.

I do not know why I opened up to him.

Why I told him how I have felt in the past few days.

Why I told him how I missed my father.

The matter confused me. I could not speak to Jane, but I could speak to him.

He was a complete stranger. Why him? So suddenly?

Maybe I felt that I could tell this kind and willing stranger about the pain- describing how it really felt as it happened- how it really affected me. I could freely say what I felt without consequences to my family. Without causing more pain. Maybe it was the need to express the bottled, repressed feelings I had kept in me for so long.

The need to say something.

I am not sure of much these days, so I cannot tell why I opened up to him so easily. But I did.

The truth was, I was drawn to him. He seemed so kind and gentle. As I rambled on, I noticed that he did not just hear what I said; he listened. He paid attention. He seemed to understand. He made me feel comfortable. He made feel at ease. "At ease" was a state of mind that I had not been in months. I welcomed his attention. I welcomed his kindness. I did not think about consequences. I just let him into my problems, my worries, and my heart.

The rain had stopped.

Engulfed by the conversation, I did not notice the dark skies were getting darker. It was getting very late. Night had brought down its curtain upon day. Laying its blanket upon us once again. I stole a glance at my watch. Time had just flied by. Jane must be worried.

"I am sorry Mr. Wickham, but...."

"Call me George."

"All right then, George I should go. My family must be worried about me."

"I will not detain you any longer then." He smiled.

"Perhaps we will meet again, Elizabeth." I liked the way my name sounded it as he uttered it from his lips. It was the voice of a perfect gentleman.

"Goodbye."

We parted. He headed in the other direction, and I headed towards my own car feeling different.

Feeling lighter.

Of course I still felt the death of my father. The pain and sadness was still there. That feeling would always be embedded in my memory. It would never be forgotten. But, after opening up to this kind stranger, I felt them less.

I felt better.

"Perhaps we will meet again, Elizabeth."

I remembered his words as I walked the path to my car. His smile. His friendliness.

I wondered if we would ever meet again. Perhaps, next time we would meet in better circumstances.

Next time.

I almost laughed at this thought. Did I want a next time? I thought of the possibilities. I shook my head when I realized what I was doing. I was being so juvenile. Ridiculous and silly. I was acting like a young schoolgirl. Why did meeting with a virtual stranger again matter to me? I tried to be realistic.

Yet, a vision of the knight in shining armor popped into my head. Was he my knight? Was he going to carry me away from all this pain? Was he going to help me forget? My romantic side was unleashed, and I dreamt and I hoped. I looked up from my dreams and I saw a tall, brown...branch? In my reverie, I nearly ran into a tree. I have to pay attention to where I am walking. The vision was gone. I could not conjure it up again. Another crushed hope. I need to take a course in realism. I was being too much of a fanciful dreamer. I was probably never going to cross his path again anyway. It's a big city. I sighed and tried to put the thought of meeting George Wickham again in the back of my mind with much failure.

I finally reached my car. It was uncommonly cold for a November night. No moon or stars were out tonight. The skies were cloudy, and it looked like it was going to rain again. Absentmindedly, I started searching for my keys.

Nothing.

I could not find them anywhere. I went through my purse and my pockets once again.

Still Nothing.

In my mind, I retraced my steps. I had to have brought them here, my car was evidence of that. I remembered getting out of the car that afternoon, the funeral, talking to Jane, and meeting Mr. Wickham. But I could not recall what I had done with them during that time. I frantically searched but found nothing but frustration and anger.

Damn!

I found them. They were not in my purse or in my pockets. They were not on the ground. They were where I should have looked first.

I looked through the clear barrier that lay between my keys and myself. They were right in front of me. Right under my nose.

Locked in my car.

How stupid, dense, and dim-witted can I get? I berated myself for my foolishness.

The sight of them made the situation more discouraging. Soon, I wished that I had lost them where I could not see them. But there they were right in my view.

Dangling. Teasing me.

If only I had something to open the door...

Bloody keys!

The sigh of defeat and resignation.

Isolation. Isn't that what I wanted a few hours ago?

I sat next to my car in a deserted parking lot. It was dark and silent. It was too quiet for my comfort. I was left all alone in an abandoned cemetery parking lot without any way to transport myself away from these tedious surrounding.

Isolation. I got it all right, and I was scared.

I was shaking not only from the bitter cold, but also from fearful thoughts. I was far from home, and I had no way to contact anyone. Unfortunately, my cellular phone was locked in with my keys. What good is technology if you lock it in your car?

What was I to do? Walk? Ha! As much as I enjoy walking, it was too dark. Too far. Too cold. Too dangerous. Too dangerous for me, a young, single woman not yet two and twenty.

Suddenly the silence was broken. I heard a noise. It scared me half to death.

I recognized it. It was an engine.

Another car.

At first I was relieved, but then I was very afraid. I hoped it would be Jane. But, I could not be sure.

The sound grew louder and louder as it headed in my direction. Two bright lights emerged from the darkness. Headlights. They glared at my face, hurting my eyes. I heard the window rolling down. I was shaking. Slowly it revealed the face behind the wheel.

I looked at him in surprise.

"So we meet again, Elizabeth."

"Mr. Wickham! Hello!"

"As much as I wanted to meet you again," as he said this I blushed, " I did not think it would be so soon. Why have you not gone home?"

I rolled my eyes in the direction of my car.

"Car trouble, eh? May I be of any assistance?"

"Sure. If you can breakdown that door and get my keys!"

"Don't worry. It happens to everyone. I have locked mine in at least once or twice too. The main question is how are you getting home? It is not safe for anyone to be here all alone at night." There was pure concern in his voice.

"I don't know, Mr. Wick..." He stopped me.

"Please call me George."

"Oh, I don't know George. I was just trying to figure that out. By any chance do you have a cell phone with you?" When I said his name he smiled.

"No. I am sorry I do not."

"Oh." I was disappointed, and it must have shown in my face.

"I know that it is too late to call a locksmith and I know that you are probably stuck here too. I can't really help you get your car open, but I can offer you a ride home."

To this, I did not know how to respond. The phrase I had learned as a young child nagged at me. It begged to be listened to. It begged to be heeded.

Never trust a stranger.

A stranger. George Wickham was still a stranger. We had just met. I knew very little about him except for his name. I also knew that he came off as a very kind, caring man during our first meeting. At least he appeared to be. His kindness seemed suspicious, but I threw that feeling aside. Was I being paranoid by being hesitant to trust him? I do not usually trust people easily. I am cautious and careful. I have never really trusted a stranger...well, except for that one night in Annapolis a couple years ago. That had been a mistake. Trusting then had only led to a broken heart. Trusting has its repercussions. He taught me that lesson. Trusting can lead to hurt and pain.

But, trust must be bestowed or else everything would be at a deadlock...

I do not know why.

Maybe it was his seemingly sincere kindness.

Maybe it was my vulnerability at the time.

Maybe it was my need to be at home in the comfort of my family.

Maybe I thought it was the only way to get home.

The only solution. The only one to turn to.

Whatever the reason I accepted him. I don't know why, but I did.

My cautiousness had crumbled.

Never trust a stranger did not mean anything anymore because in my eyes George Wickham could be trusted.

I ignored the phrase and I trusted him.

"If it would not inconvenience you, I would be really grateful if you did give me a ride."

He smiled at me.

"Hop in."

I got into his car.

Chapter 6--Trust

Posted on Sunday, 11 June 2000

I got into the car.

I trusted him and I got in.

To trust is to have faith in. To believe in. To have confidence in.

In today's world, full of deception and dishonesty, getting into a stranger's car seems insane. In today's world, it is rare for a stranger to become a friend after one meeting. A stranger is never just trusted.

Trust must be earned and tested.

You just don't walk into a man's car believing that he will take you where you need to be out of the goodness of his heart. This is not the hitchhiker-friendly '70s. This is the fear-filled '90s. The growing violence and hostility taking place around the world, causes people to wonder if "the kind and generous stranger" still exists.

Fear.

Paranoia.

Suspicion.

The world we live in is dominated by those feelings. We have learned to bestow trust with caution and care because there have been too many incidents. Too many victims. Too many wounds. Too many scars.

Trust violated too many times.

A belief in a human potential for good has shattered and disappeared for many people. The world has just become too dangerous for one to trust without fearing harmful consequences.

So, when I said, "I got into his car," imaginations in all probability began to create horrific scenes of what could happen next. Awful events that happen in nightmares. Kidnappings. Beatings. Rape. The situation did have potential for those things to occur. But, my senses were dulled to the fact that something like that could occur. I was blind and I trusted the stranger. Trusting that he would keep his word. Believing that he would drive me home and return me safe and sound.

It's a danger to be trusting one another.
One will seldom want to do what the other wishes.
But unless somebody trusts somebody,
There'll be nothing left on earth, except in fishes.*

I remembered this song as I climbed into his car. Attempting to find reasons to justify why I would trust George Wickham. I figured that there was a danger in granting trust to others, but I decided it was better than what is "inside of fishes." So, I took a risk. I trusted in a society where trusting strangers is not easily accepted. If I did not, I would be stuck in a deadlock. Left alone.

So, what happened next may seem odd to some. What happened next does not match the nightmares that one pictures or creates. What happened next?

Absolutely nothing of consequence. Nothing happened.

He did not harm me. He did not touch me. He did not take advantage of the situation.

We traveled the lonely highways and the empty streets together talking. Friendly conversation. Welcome conversation. He was so charming and polite. I was impressed and made no regrets about my decision to trust him. The drive to my mother's house on Longbourn Street seemed to pass by quickly in his company.

As George's car drove through the darkness of Longbourn Street, the only light came from our house. The house. A perfect sized house for a man and wife to raise their five daughters. The house I grew up in. The house I call home. I glanced down at the face of my watch. The hands pointed to ten minutes before midnight.

"Turn here. That's it. Number 1812." The wheels turned. The noises from the car's engine grew softer and softer as the car pulled into the driveway and stopped.

For moments, which seemed like an eternity, we sat in silence. Awkward. It was a strange feeling. I did not want to look him in the face. I did not know what to say. I decided to end the silence and do at least do something. I looked up, prepared to say my good-byes but my eyes caught his, and our eyes locked.

He had been staring at me. I felt his warm glare and I felt a blush come to my cheeks. Instead of looking away, I stared back at him, admiring his handsome features. I scanned his face and I fell upon his lips. I was drawn to them. They were red and alluring. Enticing. So close. My thoughts drifted, and I wondered how it would feel to have them pressed against my own.

I suddenly was embarrassed, shocked as I realized what I had just been thinking. I shook the thoughts from my mind, and turned away.

"So...I better go..."

Before I could say any more, a familiar form stepped out of the house. It was Jane. She ran to me as I got out of the car.

"Lizzy! We have been worried sick about you. Mama is having a fit!" As we parted from an embrace, she noticed that a man standing behind me and a unfamiliar car in the driveway.

"Lizzy," she sent me a questioning glance, "Are you all right? What happened? Where is your car?" She slowly motioned to George and asked, "Who is this?"

"I am fine, Jane. I will explain everything, but first, let me introduce you to someone." I smiled in his direction.

"Jane, this is George Wickham, my rescuer. George, this is my sister, Jane Bennett."

Jane looked at me concerned and whispered, "Rescuer?" before they exchanged their how-do-you-dos.

George looked a Jane and said, "Don't worry, your sister gives me too much credit. I did not rescue her from anything too atrocious, just offered her a ride home when she was having car problems." He smiled, and Jane was charmed by his easy manner.

"George," I liked saying his first name, "please come inside for some coffee. It is the least I can offer you for all your help."

Jane threw me a playful look and a sarcastic smile. "Yes, Mr. Wickham, I am sure our mother would also love to make your acquaintance, and, of course, to thank you for bringing Lizzy home."

"I would be honored and delighted, ladies. Thank you."

*From Rogers and Hammerstein's King and I. The song is called "Is A Puzzlement?"

Chapter 7: First Impressions

We entered the house through the white front door that my father and I painted together a few years ago.

The door.

When I was young, I longed for adventure. I was an ambitious little girl with high hopes and aspirations. I remembered how I hoped to come through that door again after I had graduated, or after I had come back from an exotic place, or after I met the man of my dreams, or after I had accomplished something spectacular. I was determined to one day walk through that door entering, not as an ordinary little girl, but a successful, famous woman. A woman that would make her family and her father, especially, proud. I feel for some reason that I have failed him.

Poets and authors marvel at children's abilities, writing lyrical sonnets and beautiful poems praising their fantastic creativity and wild imagination. Children and their uninhibited ideas. Children possess something that adults lose. As we age, life's hardships make us think more realistically. Children believe anything can happen. They can create who or what they want to be without realizing or caring that there are consequences and responsibilities. Children are free and inviolate. Dreams are possibilities to them, not floating wishes, as they are for a lot of adults. I belong to that pool of adults. I am no longer a child and I have lost that ability. I have lost that innocence. I have lost that hope.

My father never lost that feeling. He was young at heart. But like those vanished dreams, my father is gone.

The door.

We have welcomed so many people through it. Family. Old friends and new neighbors. Strangers who became friends. People whom we once did not know, but who, after entering that door were strangers no more. Standing next to me in the foyer, that night was another man who was to be added to that list of friends. George Wickham was a stranger to us no more.

The closing of the door and the sounds of our footsteps, caused my mother to stir from her room.

"Lizzy! Lizzy, is that you?"

"Yes, Mama."

"Elizabeth Alessandra Marie Bennett! Where have you been?" She bellowed from the top of the stairs. She came down the steps, formally attired in her bedroom clothes. She wore interesting blue nightgown with butterflies and bows popping out of it like pictures in a pop up book for children. To top it off she had pink curlers in her hair and green facial cream on her face. She stopped half way down and noticed the young man standing next to me.

"Good Lord! Why did you not tell me..." She looked down at what she wore, uttered a small swear, and stared at both of us with the infamous "death stare." We were in trouble. Then, in the best voice she could muster up, she muttered some excuse and flew up the steps back to her room. Jane and I tried to hold back our laughter, covering it up with a fit of coughing, but we failed miserably.

"Are you ladies all right?" George grinned.

"Yes. Thank you we are perfectly fine." Jane and I were able to mutter before we fell to laughter once again.

"George, that was our mother. You will meet her later." Of that, I could be very sure. "But for now, please come into the family room and sit down and make yourself comfortable. I will go prepare some coffee."

"No, Lizzy. Why don't you stay here with Mr. Wickham?"

"Miss Bennett, please call me George."

"I will, if you insist, George, but if I do you must call me Jane. I will be back in a minute with some coffee." Jane walked to the kitchen, leaving George and I alone.

Unfortunately, we not to be alone for long. The noise made by my mother brought my two younger sisters down from their room.

"Lizzy! Where have you been? I hope nothing is wrong," Kitty asked me with genuine concern.

"Thank..."

"Of course nothing is wrong, Kitty. Why would something be wrong? Lizzy is very capable of taking care of herself," Lydia blurted out before I could say anything. "Where have you been, Lizzy? Why did you not come home?" Her eyes wandered as she continued to speak, eventually falling on George. She hushed and then mumbled a soft and dignified (as dignified as Lydia could ever be), "Hubba Hubba..." She looked at Kitty and squealed. Then, she looked at me with wide eyes and said loudly, "Oh my, Lizzy, now you MUST tell us where you have been! Who is the cutie?!" She tried to be discreet as she uttered the last bit, but failed.

Oh boy.

"George, let me introduce you to my two youngest sisters. Lydia and Catherine."

"Nice to meet you Lydia. Catherine."

"Nice to meet you too, Mr. Wickham. Please call me Kitty. Catherine is too formal."

I was impressed with Kitty's decorum. But Lydia...Lydia was as thrilled as a teeny-bopper meeting a member of N'Sync or the Backstreet Boys. (author's note & personal opinion & add-in : at this time, author is totally against all dreaded "boy groups" and a meeting with them would be like torture.) I prayed for Jane to hurry back with the coffee. Yet before Jane arrived, my mother did, changed and free of curlers.

"Elizabeth, darling, where have you been? I was so worried. Something might have happened to you! I was just going to call the police when I heard you arriving." She made a wonderful exaggeration of everything. My melodramatic and maudlin mother. She noticed George "for the first time."

"Well, Lizzy who have you brought home?"

"Mother, I would like you to meet Mr. George Wickham." George got up.

"It is nice to meet you Mrs. Bennett. You have raised quite a lovely bunch of girls."

"Why, thank you. You are too kind!" Mama has always loved compliments.

"How have you come to know my Lizzy?"

"Mama, I will explain. I locked my keys in the car, and Mr. Wickham drove me home."

"Oh how can we repay you, Mr. Wickham, for bringing my Lizzy back safe and sound!"

"There is no..." He tried to say something, but my mother continued.

"I knew we should not have left her all by herself! It is not safe all alone there. Oh my poor nerves! When I think of what could happen to her. That is why I think you, Miss Lizzy, need someone to protect you. Someone should care for you. Lizzy and all of you girls need a man to be there for you...and Lizzy you know that biological clock is..."

Oh dear Lord. I was holding onto my patience as she uttered every embarrassing word. Don't let her finish. Don't let her finish. Then a heavenly voice came to my rescue.

"Mama! Would you like sugar in your coffee?" Jane. Thank you Jane!

Had she finished her complaints, I would have been mortified. Mother had spoken as if George was not there, and I was just red. I excused myself after Jane arrived, and as I left I heard mother say, "Of course I would like sugar in my coffee, Jane! I always have had sugar in my coffee! What a question to ask!" She soon drifted on to other conversation that I did not hear. When I came back, George had to leave. It was very late.

"I am sorry, but I must be going now. I have a long drive ahead of me."

"We understand. Thank you again for bringing Lizzy back home." My mother exclaimed.

"Yes, thank you, George." I smiled at him.

He soon departed.

"Well, what a gentleman! So kind of him to take you home, Lizzy."

"Yes, it was Mama."

"You know he would be a good match for you."

"Mama!" I walked up to my room. It had been quite a long night.

They say that you only have one chance to make a first impression. I believe that is true. The first impression is important. How a person views you from the time you meet them will be affected by it. If you asked me who I thought gave me the best first impression, George Wickham's first impression would be it.

He was such a gentleman. He seemed so kind. I admired him for his honesty and sincerity. He did not mind my mother's and Lydia's antics so much. I admired his willingness to put up with my family.

I liked him.

Chapter 8--Unexpected Findings

Posted on Monday, 12 June 2000

When my father announced that the doctors did not expect him to survive long, I was shocked and heartbroken. I stood there unable to process what he said. When I first heard it, I could not believe him. My mind wanted to think that he was just trying to scare us with one of his jokes. I kept thinking to myself that this was not real. Tomorrow everything would be just as it was before this announcement.

But it was real.

I could not believe that he was going to die. I did not think he would actually leave us. My mind feared that inevitable day too much, and I was not prepared for it. Though I knew that dying was a process in the "circle of life," so to speak, I guess I did not expect it to effect my family so soon. My father was relatively young. He could have had ten or so years more to live if he did not have to fight this bloody disease.

I guess I took his presence for granted.

I always thought that as my father would always be there. I thought he would never leave me. But I had to face reality. I was wrong to believe that he would never leave me physically. The announcement that day proved me wrong. And, the long, painful months that would follow proved me wrong.

I was so wrong.

I became aware that we only had a short time left with him. My eyes opened to the fact that there was still so much I wanted to do with him. I wanted to share so much with him. So much I wanted him to share with me. I realized how much I did not know about him.

I wanted to be with him. So, I stopped law school at Georgetown, and my part time job was put on hold. Jane did the same. We returned to where we were needed the most, back to our home on Longbourn Street, with our family. Jane and I left our apartment in Washington D.C. and we drove back to our childhood home outside of Baltimore.
Dad was glad we came back home. He enjoyed our company and was happy that someone was there to help Mama. He was glad that there was someone to soothe her fears.

Fears.

If anyone should have had them, my father was the one. But he did not show he was afraid. A lot of people could not tell what he felt.

I never really remember a time when my father was the one afraid, but I know he was then, as he faced the illness.

The fear showed in his eyes.

I thought my father was very brave to face this illness. He was optimistic. Physically he was fading away, but his mind and his spirit was not. Sometimes things would be so painful for him, and the situation was very discouraging. When his condition worsened, I was devastated. His body was so weak. But, my father did not give up easily. He fought. He fought for his life. It was a long, painful fight. He held on for as long as he could, but death was too powerful.

For a long time I believed that if my father ever died, the world would stop with him. But I was wrong again. The world did not stop. They say that, "Life goes on."

Sure.

Life went on, but I was not ready to go on with it.

A few days after the funeral, Jane and I returned to our apartment. We had to go back to work and school by the end of the month, after the reading of father's will.

Life was going on.

I spent a lot of time in thought and reflection. I was worried about our situation and problems. I usually spent time thinking alone. But often times, Jane would be with me. We tried to recall happy memories. Jane and I opened dusty photo albums and we looked upon the face we had just lost during our best times together. We often cried. Alone, I often spent time wondering what would become of the bookstore.

Yesterday, Jane and I drove into downtown Baltimore to check on Bennett Books. We wanted to evaluate its financial situation. We parked the car and walked to the quaint, old-fashioned looking bookstore located at a street corner across from the Inner Harbor. Freddie Collins, one of my dad's managers let us in.

Freddie Collins. What can I say about him? Nothing good. I will be truthful. He is a fat greasy blob that follows me everywhere. The man is like a plague. Mother is happy about this - a stable, working man, giving her daughter attention. I am not. She does not seem to realize that "Freddie and Elizabeth" is a phrase that never existed. It would NEVER exist that way.

"Hello Ladies. Hi Lizzy." He gave me an awful smile and opened the door. "You look wonderful, Lizzy...I am glad you are checking up on the store. It has been rather...lonely..."

Oh geez. Jane grinned at me.

"Not that I mind the loneliness...I love this store...serving for your father and your great family these past two years have been a wonderful experience..."

"Freddie, where did my father keep the financial records?"

"In his office, Lizzy. I could get them for you. I would be happy to get them for you. I haven't really looked at them myself. I thought it would be best to leave them to those who they belong to..."

"Yes. But, no, thank you Freddie. Jane and I will find them ourselves." I managed to be as civil as possible.

Jane and I walked into my father's office. I opened a drawer at his desk and pulled out the financial records for the last couple years.

I have always wondered how the bookstore ever provided enough for all of us. It was a very small store with usually only local customers. It was not like a Borders or a Barnes and Nobles. But somehow, it did manage to earn enough money. I scanned a few pages of the record book.

Everything seemed normal, until I fell upon a large sum. I gasped. $10,000. Next to the added sums were the initials C.B. Next to others was the letter D. C.B.? D? I motioned to Jane. Jane quickly grabbed more financial records from earlier years, and found large sums added whenever the store had experienced hard times with the same initials.

"Who is C.B.? Who or what is D? Do we know a C.B., Jane?"

"I don't know. I don't think we do, but that does not mean father did. Lizzy what does this mean? Who is this person? The last and largest donation was made quite recently."

Did my father ever get donations for $10,000? That was a lot of money. Where did it come from? The donated money is what obviously kept the store alive. Is anyone that generous? Jane and I were surprised. There were so many questions. The one question that racked my mind the most was: "Will this generous C.B. help us now - when we need it most?"

Jane and I decided to keep this information to ourselves for a while. Bennett Books was headed for trouble unless we learn more of these donations. We had to find out more about C.B. or D.

"Freddie, was there a customer who came here frequently by with the initials CB?"

"No, I believe there was not. Why?"

"Oh, nothing. Just wondering."

We called our mother, and she could not think of anyone either. We had to find out who this person was, and soon.

I was baffled.

Chapter 9: A Lovely Cal

We came back to the apartment. Jane went out to get some dinner. I was just doing some cleaning when the phone rang.

The phone.

It is a wonderful invention, really. It is a friend to all teenage girls and a foe to all fathers who pay the bills. The ring can be a welcome or it can be an annoyance. What I love about it is the surprise involved. You never know who will call. I ran to reach the phone in time. I picked it up.

"Hello."

"Hello. May I please speak to Lizzy Bennett?"

I smiled. It was that voice again.

"Speaking."

"Hi, Lizzy. This is George. George Wickham."

I was surprised and delighted. This phone call was very welcome. We exchanged our hellos and how-are-yous.

"George, may I ask how you got the phone number to my apartment?"

"Um, yes...Your mother gave it to me before I left."

"Oh."

I cringed with embarrassment. So, my mother was handing out my phone number.

"I hope you don't mind, Lizzy. You sound a little disappointed. To tell you the truth, I am glad she gave it to me." I blushed.

"Really?!" I hit myself for sounding like a giddy school girl. "I don't mind at all. I am just a little upset that she would give it out like that, but I think I should have expected it." I mumbled the last part to myself.

"I hope you got your car."

"Yes, I did. Jane drove me there and we opened it up."

We talked and exchanged pleasantries. Then, he started to ask me a question.

"I called because I was wondering if..." He hesitated.

In my head, I was screaming: "Yes! Yes! Wondering what? Go ahead! Ask me!" I tried to calm down.

"I was wondering if you wanted to go out for dinner with me?" He said rather hurriedly.

My mind screamed "Yes!"

I tried to hide my excitement. Play it cool. "I don't know. Maybe. I have been kind of busy."

"Oh." He sounded disappointed.

"But...I think I am free on Friday night." I could feel him smiling on the other line.

"Can I pick you up at 5:00 on Friday?"

"Sure." I was so excited.

I gave him directions to our apartment.

"So it's a date."

"It's a date."

"I will see you then."

"Bye."

I wanted to burst from excitement. I had a date with George Wickham, and I was happier than I had ever been in the past few weeks. I could not wait to tell Jane.

Chapter 10

Posted on Wednesday, 14 June 2000

I have sort of a request to make before you read this post: I need all my readers to picture Wickham as a very handsome fellow...someone like Ewan McGregor or something like that...not that ugly rascal who plays him in P&P2, okay...hopefully that would make this less...disgusting to people. *g* Just don't hate me, please. ~alethea

Fretting Over Friday

Monday.

He asked me on a Monday. And, Friday was four days away.

Four long days.

Friday.

A day that marks the end of the weekdays and the entrance of the weekend. Usually, I eagerly await its arrival with great anticipation (what student or working person does not?). It is the end of five days of work and school. To me Fridays are always welcome but, this Friday was more welcome that usual. I longed for Friday. I was counting the days down. I wanted to see him again. He called me a couple times during the last week, but I had an urge to hear his voice in person.

Impatient.

I don't know why I felt this way about him, a person I had just met, but I liked the feeling. For the past few months, the world seemed so dark and dreary. I did not think I would ever laugh or be as happy as I was before. After meeting George, things seemed brighter. Here was a man who had made me laugh again, who had made me feel so much better after such a hard, difficult time in my life.

I had told Jane, and she was very happy for me. I was also very pleased to hear that I would not leave her all alone on Friday night either. She also had plans. She said that her date was a doctor whom she had met at the hospital she was working at. I forget his name.

Somehow, Mother found out that Jane and I had dates on Friday night. (I wonder how she learns these things. Jane and I told no one about our plans. I think I should check our apartment for a hidden microphone or recorder.) In any case, she called.

"Hello."

"Lizzy! I had heard about your plans for Friday night. It is wonderful that that nice, young gentleman is taking you out..."

"What!? Where did you hear that?" (I must really remember to check for that recorder. Hmmm...the plant, maybe?)

"Don't mind how, dear! Mother knows all!" Oh Lord! What a terrifying phrase! "Anyway, darling, this is absolutely wonderful! Oh! What are you going to wear? You must look good Lizzy, and don't be afraid to show skin dear! I am so happy! And Jane, too. Now I have heard that her date is a rich man! Oh, I am sure he will be a great catch..." She giggled in delight.

"Mama! They are just going out! They are not getting married, they are just going out for dinner!" I winked at Jane.

"Oh, but they might dear, they might! Now let me speak to Jane!"

I handed Jane the phone as I rolled my eyes. Jane took the phone from my hands and gave me faces. Amusing. It seems that Mama gave Jane the same giddy speech.

For the rest of the week, I tried to keep myself busy. I did a few errands. I went to the bookstore often (to Freddie Collins delight) and visited Mama and my sisters. When I was not working, I was left to my thoughts most of the time. I dwelled upon C.B., D., and the bookstore. I could not think of anyone with those initials...if they even were initials. Jane and I just assumed that they were, but they could stand for something but what? I hoped that more would be revealed about this puzzle when Papa's will would be read next week.

Papa's will was to be read. A will reading. The thought that that event would occur made me depressed again. It has happened. It reminded me that he was gone. I tried to keep myself busy, like I said. I tried to keep my mind off of those things, but I failed. They were constantly in my mind.

Jane noticed my melancholy and tried to cheer me up.

"Lizzy, you need to go out. It is just the thing to liven your spirits! Come on! I know let us go shopping." When I nodded hesitantly she said, in a voice that sounded very much like our mother's, "Plus, Lizzy, darling, we must find you an outfit for your on Friday that shows off your gifts to our best advantage! Don't look at me that way, Elizabeth. Mind you, of course that those gifts are from my side of the family! Oh! Wickham what a handsome fellow! An agreeable man! A fine catch..."

"Stop it, Jane! Stop it!" I attempted to holler as I fell to the floor laughing.

"Come on." So we bought casual dresses for Friday night. I was feeling much better after the excursion and thanked Jane for taking me.

Soon the four long days turned into three days, then two days, then one day. I was anxious. The waiting was over and Friday had arrived. Finally.

Chapter 11: Friday, Part 1: Finding Excuses

I looked at the clock on the wall. It was five. A couple minutes later, the doorbell rang.

The sound of the doorbell. The sound I had waited for all day.

Jane was still dressing, so I went to get the door. I quickly glanced in the mirror to check my appearance. What will he think of me? I decided it was now or never as the doorbell rang once more. I stood in front of the closed door excited and nervous. I took a deep breath, reached for the handle, and eagerly opened the door...only to be disappointed.

The man standing in front of me was not George. He held a large bouquet of colorful flowers in his hands. I had to admit he looked gorgeous with his wavy blond hair and his crystal blue eyes. I presumed that this handsome gentleman was my sister's date for the evening. He stared at me with a look of confusion and then laughed.

"Hello. Is this Jane Bennett's apartment or did I just make a complete fool out of myself by coming to the wrong place? With my luck today that could happen! " I laughed. He was nervous.

"Don't worry you are in the right place." He looked relieved, and I smiled at him.

"Hi. I am Jane's sister. Please come in. Did you have a hard time finding the place?"

"Um...a little. I must have made a wrong turn somewhere...All right, I admit it, I was lost," he stuttered through his confession with a smile. A man who can admit he was lost.

No wonder Jane likes him.

"Well, I am glad you found the place. People always seem to miss that turn at New Hampshire Avenue. Jane has been waiting for you, but not to worry, you did arrive."

Unlike other people.

"So...Is she ready?" It is always so amusing to watch Jane's dates. They are always so anxious; as I realized that I was pacing the room, I decided that I have no right to criticize him. Poor fellow!

"I am not sure, let me go and check. Why don't you sit down and make yourself comfortable while I go get her."

"Thanks."

As I went to get Jane I could not help feeling disappointment. How I wished that George was behind the door when I opened it. Despite my frustration, I was happy for my sister. This man seemed different from the others she had dated before. I entered her room and called for her. She was finally ready. She stepped out of the bathroom and smiled.

"How do I look, Lizzy?"

She looked absolutely stunning. She wore a sky blue dress that brought out her clear blue eyes and complemented her perfect figure. She left her beautiful long, blond hair down, and was the vision of perfection.

"You look fantastic, Jane. I suspect that good-looking guy out there will think you look breathtaking."

"Oh my gosh, he is here? Has he been waiting long?" She quickly made her way into the room where I had left him. She was jumpy; so, she stopped before she entered the room, composed herself, and took a deep breath.

"Hello, Charles." So that was his name.

"Jane!" He stood up and turned around to face my sister. His mouth dropped as he beheld the sight in front of him. He was awestruck. I grinned at his reaction and my sister turned a little red.

"Jane. You look absolutely lovely." She blushed as he handed her the flowers.

"Thank you. You don't look that bad yourself, handsome." It was his turn to blush, and she laughed. "I must introduce you to my sister." Then, she turned and looked at me.

"Lizzy, I would like you to meet Dr. Charles Bingley. Charles this is my sister Elizabeth Bennett." My sister glowed.

"Nice to meet you, Dr. Bingley."

"It is nice to finally meet you. Your sister talks about you all the time. Please call me Charles or Charlie, Miss Bennett."

"Then you must call me Lizzy, Charlie. Now, I hope that my sister tells you only good things about me." I smiled at Jane.

"Me?" Jane said innocently, "I would never tell anyone those bad secrets that you hide behind that angelic face of yours, little sister," she laughed mockingly, throwing me a sarcastic smile.

Charlie laughed. "Sisters," he said as he shook his head. "Mine are very much the same way...well sometimes."

"How many sisters do you have?"

"Two. Lana and Carina."

The three of us talked and discussed different issues. But I decided to leave them to themselves for a little while, so I went to put Jane's flowers in a vase. When I came back, the two were chatting like best friends. I was so happy for Jane. She seemed to like him a lot and he made her laugh and smile again. Father's death took a toll on her too. Charlie seemed to be just what she needed to raise her spirits. From my observation those few minutes together with them I could tell that Charlie may be the right one for her. He was truly her perfect pair, in both looks and personality. I sighed with contentment, hoping that they would not face any trouble as they journeyed down love's rocky path. Looking into Jane's sparkling eyes as she talked to him, I could tell she was falling for him. I prayed that Charlie would never break her heart.

I looked at my watch. It was already quarter after five. George was not here yet. I was starting to worry. Was he ever going to come? Did he really say five? Maybe he said six and I remembered wrong. I looked on the calendar on the wall and on today's date, Friday, it said 5:00 pm circled and underlined. Where was he? I paced for a while and then decided to take a drink of water, calm myself, and return to Jane and Charlie. They did not want to leave. Jane did not want to go until she knew that I was also going out for the evening, but soon the fifteen minutes turned into thirty, so I told them to go out and have a good time.

"Don't worry about me Jane I will be all right. Maybe he had car trouble. I am sure he will call soon. You and Charlie should go out and have a nice time."

"But Lizzy..." She was worried and looked at me sadly.

"No, Jane it is all right. I will be just fine."

"If you are sure, Lizzy."

"I am sure, Jane."

"Have fun. And Charlie take good care of my sister, okay?" I smiled at him.

"Yes, Ma'am of course I will!"

"Goodbye Jane."

"Bye Lizzy." They were hesitant, but at my persuasion soon departed.

I was alone again.

I looked at the clock on the wall again. It was quarter to six.

Quarter to six. Forty-five minutes. He was forty-five minutes late. Where was he? I made excuses that allowed me to wait a little longer. I kept telling myself that maybe he locked his keys in his car, or maybe he was stuck in traffic and was unable to phone me. I kept telling myself that there was a reasonable explanation for his delay.

There has to be a good reason for all of this, Lizzy.

A hour. A full hour. It was six o'clock. I was running short on patience. I was getting frustrated and angry. Angry at George for promising a wonderful evening out, then not even calling to tell me he would be late, or even worst, not showing up at all. And, I was angry at myself, for trusting that he would keep his word and believing that he would actually go out with me. I was so silly for thinking that George would be better than all the other men I had met. I kicked myself for being so foolish, and I was filled with disappointment. I was angry with him because he disappointed me. I was fuming because of his need for a good excuse. The other experience I have had with a man that I have felt this strongly for ended without a good excuse. There was no excuse. Nothing at all. I knew nothing that I needed to forgive him for. I did not forgive him. He hurt me, and I am bitter still. That was the real disappointment. So I continued to search for excuses and alibis. But, reasons and justifications were never found.

I looked at my watch. It was six-fifteen. 6:15.

I was going to give up. This was so ridiculous in my mind. Why do I have to search for alibis? For once can I find someone who will not make me have to find reasons and excuses for the disappointment they cause in my heart?

The evening had reached an anticlimax...or so I thought.

Just as I was going to change and grab a very large bucket of chocolate ice cream to consume while I wallowed in my own self-pity, the doorbell rang again. I debated whether or not to open the door, but I decided to open it. I opened the door, not with the eagerness I did and hour and a half ago, but with irritation and discontent. I looked straight in front of me, expecting to see tardy George's face, but I saw no one.

Great, I thought, a practical joke to brighten up my day.

It wasn't a practical joke.

"I am so sorry, Lizzy." It was his voice. "Please forgive me. I will understand if you don't, but please Lizzy, I am truly sorry."

I wondered where he was. I looked down and to my amazement there was George Wickham, down on his knees pleading for my forgiveness with a bouquet flowers in his hand. It was a rather amusing sight. He looked so apologetic with his brown hair disheveled from his fingers running through it. Tousled and pleading.

Did he have to look so good?

Ohhhhhh....of course I was still angry! Right? "Yes, you are angry at him" Or so I tried to keep telling myself as I looked at those baby blue eyes. Lizzy do not be tempted to forget all his lateness because he is on his knees! Get with it! Compose yourself and be angry at him!

So he finally decided to show up! I was not going to let him off easily. I was not going to be easily swayed. He held the lovely arrangement of flowers for me, but I just pushed them away.

"First, Mister, you better have one hell of an explanation to give me! Where have you been? If I remember correctly you were to pick me up an hour and a half ago! You should have at least had the decency to inform me that you were going to be late!"

"Lizzy, I am so sorry. Please believe me when I say that I was stuck in traffic! There was an accident on the way here. And I left my cell phone at home, so I could not call you"

"Sure." I stared at him.

"I am not lying, Lizzy. Please believe me. If you don't want to go out with me tonight I will understand, but I really wish you would reconsider, if that's your choice! Listen, Lizzy, I have been looking forward to this night all week. I really would love to get to know you better and I would hate to have lost a chance to get to know one of the sweetest women I have met in a long time. Please reconsider." He was still on his knees with those blue, persuasive eyes. I turned away.

"Please." He was tugging at my heart with that word. "Please." He took my hand, stood up and looked me straight in the eyes with a gentle look. I smiled.

"All right, George. I will let it go." How could I not let it go? Maybe forgiving him like that was letting him off too easily, but I did forgive and forget. I had been looking forward to this night too long to just let it go.

"I'll make it up to you. I have planned to take you somewhere special tonight."

"That sounds wonderful. Where are we going? What is this special place, George?"

So, I let him take me out. He was going to take me out, like he said, to somewhere special. Somewhere special, indeed.

Annapolis.

A city I love for its beauty, for its history, and for so much more. It has left me with so much. It is a city I hold close to my heart. It is a city I will remember forever as the place I first fell in love. It is also the city where my heart was first broken. I touched the pendant that hung upon my neck remembering one beautiful night like tonight and longing for yesterdays.

Chapter 11: Friday --Part 2: Please Be Kind

Posted on Thursday, 15 June 2000

The ride was pleasant as we drove down to the city that I love. Downtown, historic Annapolis.

George brought me to Café Normandie, a small, French restaurant, located on the cobblestone Main Street.

The waiter guided us to a table in a comfortable, private corner of the restaurant. Light. I noticed the lack of light in the restaurant. The only light in our corner came from the soft glow of small candles that lay on top of a crisp, white tablecloth. I took in the sweet aroma of flowers that were beautifully arranged near us. Music. My ears recognized the mellow voice of Ella Fitzgerald singing to the soft chords and lovely rhythm of the piano.

This is my first affair.
Please be kind
Handle my heart with care
Please be kind

"Please sit down." George pulled the chair out for me. He was such a gentleman.

This is all so grand
My dreams are on parade
If you'll just understand
They'll never, never fade

"Welcome to Café Normandie. I am Gerard, your waiter for this evening. Can I get you or the lovely lady something to drink?" He handed us the menus.

George asked, "Do you have red wine?"

So tell me your love's sincere
Please be kind
Tell me I needn't fear
Please be kind

"Yes we do. Would you like some?" George nodded his head

'Cause if you leave me dear,
I know my heart - will lose its mind
If you love me
Please be kind.*

I noticed everything around me. My senses were delighted.

Candles glowing in the darkness. Smooth, relaxing music in the background. Wine. And to top it all off a fine looking gentleman sitting across from me. The combination was wonderfully romantic. The setting for a perfect evening.

The anger I possessed earlier was forgotten. It was erased from my memory.

"George, this place is wonderful!"

"I am glad you like it." He smiled at me.

The waiter came around again and we ordered our food. Everything looked tempting, so it took me a while to decide. I had heard this was a really great restaurant. I scanned the prices. A little expensive for a first date. Would he pay for it all? I decided not to ask. I would just wait until dinner was over.

After the waiter left there was an awkward pause. I decided that it would be a good time for us to learn more about each other, so I took the initiative.

"So, George tell me about yourself. You come off as rather mysterious, you know." I grinned. "I only know you as the rather handsome gentleman with an adorable British accent who somehow showed up at my father's funeral, rescued me from my stupidity when I locked my keys in the car, and drove me home away from a rather dreary situation..."

"Is my accent really that adorable?"

"Hmmm...maybe you should talk more and I will decide." I shot him a playful smile.

"And like I said before, locking your keys in the car was not stupid. Plus," he hesitated, "I am glad that I was able to drive you home..." He looked at me. Gorgeous...

Okay. Okay. Have to get back in control.

"Anyway, tell me about yourself. Let me hear that accent of yours!" He smiled. "I gather you are from England."

"Yes. I was born and raised English."

"Are you from Derbyshire? That is where I believed my father said he was from. Is that where your father met mine?"

"Yes, I am from Derbyshire. I suppose they met there, my father never told me. But, I would assume. So, have you ever been over there?"

"No. I have not had the good fortune to be able to go there. My father did not ever seem interested in going back. He did have a wonderful accent. I wonder why he did not tell us much about his life there..." Then it hit me again. I could no longer talk about England and my father. Isn't that what I was trying to avoid tonight? Everything I talked about seemed to be linked to him in some way. I felt warm and uncomfortable. I promised that I would not ruin this evening by wishing these past few months had never occurred, but I could not do it. I turned away.

"I am sorry." I was embarrassed.

"Don't be. I am sorry that I brought back the memories. Are you all right?"

"I am fine, really. Please continue."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. I want to know. Please tell me. And, I do love hearing that accent." He smiled.

"All right, if you insist. Talking about home is not a tedious task whatsoever; actually, it is quite enjoyable. I could speak about Derbyshire for hours. Derbyshire is the most beautiful part of the England. It may not have the flashy charms of London or any other city, but it is offers superb company and delightful people. I believe it is the most peaceful place in all of England. I loved to take walks there. The woods are so beautiful around the area my family lived in. If you ever have the fortune to visit, you absolutely must visit Derbyshire." He had a far off look in his eyes as he sighed.

"I confess it does sound tempting. I love walking and the sight you describe seems so grand. My father must have loved it there. I wonder why he left." My father loved nature and walks. His favorite book was Walden by Thoreau. I wondered why a man like my father would leave a place that seemed like his ideal. Maybe he had little choice in the matter.

"I am afraid I don't have that information for you. My father never said anything about his departure."

"George, if you loved it there so much why did you leave?"

"I had a few family problems...my brother and I got into a disagreement. I could not live there anymore. I could not face...Anyway, I moved here and joined the Navy."

"I am sorry about your family problems." I did not think he could get into a disagreement with anyone. "You have a brother?"

"Yes, actually I have three other siblings. I have a younger brother, younger sister, and an older half-sister."

"Do you miss them?" After I asked the question, I regretted it. I should not have asked about his family when a disagreement with his family had led to his departure from England.

"Of course I do. Do not trouble yourself about the question." How did he know what I was thinking? "I love my family. I just needed to get away for a little bit."

"So you came over to the United States and later joined the Navy?"

"Yes Ma'am," he saluted. So he was a man in uniform as well.

"So, Elizabeth, now that you know a bit about me, tell me about yourself."

"Well, I am from Baltimore and my father owns...I mean...owned a bookshop downtown where I sometimes manage things to an extent. I am a law student at Georgetown University, but I have put that on hold for a bit to take care of my mother."

"Do you work?"

"Actually, I do. I work in DC as a waitress and...sometimes as a singer."

"Really? Maybe I can hear you sing one time?" He asked shyly.

"Maybe..."

Soon the food arrived. We did not talk much because eating prevented us from conversing. The food was delicious. The waiter came around with the bill and I offered to pay, but George paid for it all. As we got up I though the evening was over. It was only nine o'clock. I did not know whether or not we were going to do something afterwards.

"Thank you for everything."

"Wait, Lizzy, I don't know if you want to, but will you walk with me? It is still early and Annapolis offers some wonderful views." How could I refuse?

After we left Café Normandie, George looked at me animatedly.

"Come on! I want to show you something." He told me that there was something he wanted to show me down near the Dock.

We walked down Main Street passing by old-fashioned looking shops. Everything about downtown reminds me of a simpler time. The houses. The style. The atmosphere.

We were about to cross a busy section of the street, and suddenly George grabbed my hand and we crossed the street. He did not let go when we reached the other side. He smiled at me.

"You should never cross a busy street without holding someone's hand," he said.

George's hand. It felt warm. I felt comfortable holding George's hand. I felt a sensation run up my arm when George held it, but I could not help thinking that his touch did not just send a sensation through my arm, but a pleasant shock through my entire body. The grasp of his hand made me feel more. His was a tender touch. I liked how George held my hand, but I loved how he held my hand.

As we reached City Dock, past the Market Place and the Summer Garden House Theatre, George said, "I want to show you something. It is great here. Close your eyes and trust me."

I trusted him. He took my hand again, and he led me to this "great place." As we passed the flow of people that brushed passed us he gently grabbed hold of my waist and steered me steadily. I heard people uttering amused sighs and envious whispers. They were jealous of me because I was having the date of my dreams. I smiled contentedly and kept my eyes closed. Finally, we got there and I heard George's pleasant voice once again.

"Open your eyes." He pointed out to the bay. The sight was magnificent. I was filled with awe as I looked at the view in front of me. The sky was painted in different dark and light shades of purples and reds over the waters. Twilight time.

Where had he brought me? I moved away from his partial embrace and looked behind me in an attempt to find out where we were. He had taken me to a more secluded part of the Dock. We were away from the bustle of downtown, but this place also offered a wonderful view of the city and the Bay.

The city was preparing for night to cover its darkness upon it. Streetlights lit up. The Maryland flag flew over the "acorn" on top of the Capital Building. The dome seemed to glow. The bells from the steeples of St. Ann's on Church Circle and St. Mary's near Spa Creek began to ring sweetly notifying the people that it was getting late. Shops began to close, while restaurants and bars began to fill. People were everywhere. Sleepy children and their parents on their way home from the ice cream parlor. Tourists departing from their visit to the Naval Academy or the other historic sites that Annapolis offers. Young friends off in search of a good time. Lovers walking together hand in hand around the dock. There I was. Another person in the crowd taking time to look out. Taking time to observe.

I turned my attention once again to the man that stood next to me.

"Everything is so...it's breathtaking." I managed to say.

"Yes, it is beautiful." Then, he looked at me. "Did I tell you how beautiful you look tonight?" His voice was rich and clear, but I was only reminded of a richer, clearer voice that spoke those same words to me in this city before.

I tried to shake my heads from those thoughts. I kept telling myself, "This is now Lizzy, not then. The past is in the past. Move on." I answered him.

"No, you haven't, Mr. Wickham, but I wouldn't mind if you did mention it," I replied.

"Well, Miss Bennett you look absolutely stunning tonight!" He smiled at me. We took a seat on a wooden bench that faced the bay.

Close. We sat close to each other. He moved closer. I looked at him timidly and I got up. I walked towards the end of the pier and leaned on one of the wooden pillars. I looked out to the Bay. I saw a sailboat gliding across the water probably heading back to its home in the dock for the night. The wind. The sailboat's large, white sails billowed out as a strong, but gentle wind pushed though. The wind. The breeze traveled towards me. My unruly locks would not stay in place and they were blown around my face.

I felt his gaze upon me. He had been staring at me for the longest time. I heard a rustle behind me. George stood up and came towards me. I turned to look at him.

I don't really remember his features clearly. I only remember certain things about him. I allowed myself to forget a lot. But, I remember those certain heavenly things. His uniqueness. His gestures. Only parts of his character and his body that were so distinctive. As I looked at George I could not help but compare him with the man of my memories. George's features were so different from his gorgeous features. His were so much darker, that I remember. George's light brown hair could never compare to his black locks. Suddenly, I remembered how my hand used to shift gently through that soft hair. George's crystal baby blue eyes are so different from his dark, expressive eyes. And George's lips can't compare... No! I promised I would not do this. I shook my head again. "This is now! There is another gorgeous man in front of you!"

George looked at me. I scanned his face again. He was so handsome. I watched as he lifted his hand from its limp position at his side to push my hair away from my face. I felt a tingle where his hand had brushed my skin. I could not keep my eyes from him. He was so close. I felt...I don't know what I felt. I was confused.

"You really look lovely, Elizabeth," he said in a more serious tone. He moved closer. His face was in front of mine. I held my breath.

I felt a shock of surprise when George's tempting, red lips were pressed against my own. I closed my eyes.

He was kissing me.

Oh my. It was unusually warm for late November.

He was kissing me, and it felt good. A warm sensation surged within me. My mind was spinning.

Yet, I could not erase the memory of another man who had kissed me here before.

No! I was not going to do this!

No. No. No.

I heard George speaking again. He was still holding me close. "Please go out with me again, Elizabeth. Tonight has been so wonderful. Please."

I was so glad that I decided to forgive him and that I had allowed him to take me out. Would I turn him down after such a pleasant evening? No. Not after that kiss.

I felt something there. I felt that something wonderful could come out of this. I liked him. Maybe too much. Maybe too quickly. Maybe, I trusted him too much. But, I was swept off my feet.

"Yes, George I will go out with you again," I was able to mutter as I parted from his warm embrace.

My heart was cautioning me. "Be careful." I remembered the lyrics of the song at the restaurant:

Handle my heart with care
Please be kind

I let George into my heart. I thought silently to myself, "Yes, George, I will definitely go out with you again, but please be kind. Do handle my heart with care. I don't know if my heart can be let down again."

I touched the pendant. I have to overcome this.

You.

My first love.

The cause of my broken heart.

I was frightened. Scared. Afraid. I did not want to get hurt again.

I was afraid of heartache. I had already learned how painful it could be.

* Please Be Kind by Cahn/Chaplin as sung by Ella Fitzgerald.

Chapter 11: Part 3--Swept Off Of Our Feet

Posted on Friday, 16 June 2000

I came home feeling so light. I was up in the clouds feeling wonderful.

Wonderful. Everything was wonderful. Fabulous. Romantic. Wonderful. My date with George. The whole thing - beginning, middle, and end. I felt that I could have repeated that night a million times over.

After the walk around the dock (and the thrilling kiss), we bought some ice cream at Storm Brothers and talked. I told him more about myself and I learned more about him. I thought he was a man of such perfection.

I was falling.

The night was coming to an end. Too soon.

We walked to the car, got in, looked at each other, and smiled. We knew something about being together was just unmistakably wonderful. Both of us. He kissed me again. When we parted, he started the car and we left for my apartment. His hand slid over mine as we exited to the beltway, and his hand did not leave mine until he parked the car again.

Like a gentleman, he walked me to my building.

"Lizzy, I have really enjoyed tonight." He smiled at me.

"George, I really have to thank you tonight was the most wonderful evening I have had in ages and I would not mind repeating it again." I smiled at him.

"Well, I better get going..." He was right. It was getting late. I glanced at my watch.

"Yes..." I sighed. I was a little disappointed. I did not want this to end.

He was staring at me. I turned away from his stare to look for my keys to the building, but I still felt his gaze upon me. I turned to look at him. I was a little surprised because he was right in front of me. He was so close.

Close. Next thing I knew he was kissing me. I felt the sensation again. As we parted, I heard him whisper, "Call me Lizzy."

"Okay..."

That is all I could say. A simple "okay." He waved and then began to walk back to his car.

I fumbled with my keys and ran up to the apartment. I opened the door to find Jane and her date, Charlie, on the couch laughing hysterically. I was so happy for Jane. She has not laughed nor smiled this much in a long time. I looked at the two. Charlie was really right for her. Charlie got close to Jane ready to pull her in for an embrace, but the sound of the door closing caught their attention.

They jumped up. Surprised.

"Oh, Lizzy! You are back!" She and Charlie were still trying to regain their composure.

Oh drat my awful timing!

"Hello, Jane. Charlie."

They recovered from their embarrassment, talked to them for a little while. Friendly chatter to pass the awkward moments by. Then to make up for my awful sense of when to enter, I left them.

"Jane, I am a little tired." Actually, after a night like that night...not really.

"Nice meeting you, Charlie. Hope to see you soon?" I winked at him.

He answered in the affirmative, and smiled turning to Jane once again. After he looked at her, I do not think they even noticed me leaving the room.

I sat in my room reminiscing about my wonderful evening. Wondering about my sister's evening as I heard them in the other room. Talking. Laughing. Other things? Falling for each other. At least, I hope.

I heard the closing of the front door, and I left my room to see Jane.

She stood with her eyes closed and her back to the door sighing contentedly.

"Jane?"

"Oh, Lizzy! Lizzy! Could nothing else be more remarkable?"

"Tell me everything! I see that glow in your eyes! Your night must have been as wonderful as mine."

"Oh yes! I will definitely give you details...but you must tell me about your night!"

"I believe he has swept you off your feet, Jane."

"Possibly..."

And so continued a night of sisterly chat.

Chapter 12: An Interlude

For Gabby. Thanks for your help.

The next day, I got a phone call. It was Kimmie. Kimmie works with me at The Blue Spot, the jazz club and restaurant I work at.

"Lizzy, how are you?"

"Not bad. Feeling better."

"I am glad. Listen, I know you are on vacation for the...circumstances, but I really need to ask a favor from you. Leah, that wonderful singer Jimmy found for us, can't make it on Tuesday and Thursday."

"Oh no! Why not? I hope she is okay."

"She is going to France that day.

"Lucky girl."

"Yeah, you are telling me. If I could only go to France...Anyway, that is besides the point, Chris and Marks can't find any one else." Chris and Marks owned The Blue Spot.

"Have you asked Tiki, Meghan, or Melissa? Maybe they know someone." Tiki and Meghan also work with me. Melissa comes to The Blue Spot often.

"I did. They didn't know anyone who could sing those nights. So, Lizzy, can you make it?"

"I don't know."

"Please. Lizzy, Chris said he will pay you double for the gig."

"Double?"

"Yes."

"I am not doing anything those nights...I guess I can. Yes, all right, I will."

"Thank you so much! Marks and Chris will just love you for doing this!"

"Yeah, they better!"

"So I will see you on Tuesday then?"

"Sure. I will see you then."

"Thank you! By the way, I know you can bring the house down with that voice of yours, Lizzy. You are great! "

"No problem"

So I was starting my life up again. Maybe it was better this way.

Music. Jazz. Mellow Jazz. Sentimental music. Lyrics that flow off the page and into your heart.

I love it.

Father played it often. It was his music. He said it reminded him of his youth. Of simpler days.

I love to sing it. I love expressing myself through song. I just do.

Working at The Blue Spot had been one of the only activities that could keep me from dwelling on more somber thoughts the last few months.

I had not gone to work in two weeks, because...because of the ostensible reason.

"Hello Lizzy! Thank God you could make it tonight!" Chris greeted me enthusiastically.

"Jennifer is waiting for you behind the stage."

"Okay. Thanks."

"There is quite a crowd here tonight. It is a good thing you arrive," Jennifer said.

"I think your sister is out there," Andrea said.

"Really? She did not tell me she was coming."

"Well, that is her. She is sitting next to a rather handsome guy."

"Jane? Let me take a look."

"Lizzy, you go on in a minute. You might not have time, but you can see them while you are on stage. They are in the right corner."

"Sure." I wondered if that was Charlie she brought with her. It must be.

I took a deep breath and stepped out on stage.

"Tonight we have the wonderful Lady Lizzy to sing for you tonight. Her she is...Elizabeth Bennett!"

Applause.

I looked in the corner and, surely enough, there was Jane and Charlie. I smiled.

"Thank you everyone. The first number I will do tonight is for all of you romantics out there. Here is "The Man I Love."

Someday he'll come along
The man I love;
And he'll be big and strong,
The man I love;
And when he comes my way
I'll do my best to make him stay

He'll look at me and smile,
I'll understand
And in a little while
He'll take my hand;
And though it seems absurd,
I know we both won't say a word

Maybe I shall meet him Sunday,
Maybe Monday
Maybe not;
Still I'm sure to meet him some day,
Maybe Tuesday will be my good news day.

He'll build a little home. Just meant for two
From which I'll never roam
Who would, would you?
And so all else above
I'm waiting for the man I love.*

I sang to the slow, rich background music. Imagining that I was Lady Day herself. Closing my eyes. Not seeing the audience in front of me. I was lifted by the melody.

The man I love. My dream.

I finished my song. Opened my eyes. Smiled.

Applause.

After I had finished, I ran over to Jane and Charlie.

"Jane! Jane! Charlie! What are you doing here? You surprised me!"

"I told Charles that you worked here and that you were singing tonight. He was going to take me out anyway, and he wanted to hear you so..."

"I brought her here! Wonderful job, Lizzy. You have a talented and beautiful voice."

"Thank you."

"You know I like Jazz myself."

"Really?"

"Actually..."

"Lizzy! We need you over here for a minute." It was Tiki.

"Sorry. Don't go though! I will be back in a flash!"

"Sure."

When I returned, Jane and Charlie were sitting cozily together in their corner table. As I approached them Charlie whispered something that made her laugh. They are so good for each other. He saw me and once again whispered something in my sister's ear.

"What secrets are you hiding from me, Jane?"

"Nothing." She smiled. "Charles was just reminding me of something. I can't believe I almost forgot to tell you!"

"What is it, Jane?"

"Lizzy, the hospital is having a Christmas Benefit Ball. Please come. Charles and I are part of the planning committee. Both of us are inviting friends." She handed me an invitation. I took the envelope from her hands.

"It will be wonderful!"

"Yes, please come, Lizzy," Charlie asked.

"I will think about it, Jane."

"Good then!"

"Charlie and I have to go, but I will see you at home. Okay?"

"Sure. Have a great time!"

"Oh, we will!"

Everything just seems to be going so well. Finally. Now if only I could find the man I love. When will he come? Or has he?

* "The Man I Love" by Gershwin-Gershwin.

Chapter 13: The Will

Posted on Sunday, 18 June 2000

A week had passed and it was Friday once again. I could not and did not greet this Friday with the warmth, the excitement, or the happiness I felt only seven days ago when George Wickham came groveling on his knees to my door, begging me to forgive him for being so late for our date. Rather, I faced this day somberly and quietly. Thoughtfully.

I did not welcome this day, for what was happening meant only one thing - my father was dead.

A will. A will is a document. A piece of paper. A paper stating to whom ones earthly possessions will be passed on to after one had died, after one had gone.

My father was dead; my father was gone.

This was a truth that I had not yet learned to accept. A truth that I wished from the bottom of my heart to be false. Today's event was only a reminder of how real that truth was: The reading of father's will.

Jane sat next to me as we drove back to our parents' home, but we hardly spoke one word to each other the whole way. Both of us were, I supposed, thinking about our situation at present, about what the future would bring, and, most of all, thinking about father.

Preoccupied. My mind was preoccupied. I spent the entire drive in deep meditation. The future seemed so uncertain, and I knew that today's reading was vital in dictating in which direction the future would go.

I tried to think optimistically. Maybe our situation was not as bad as we believed it to be. I tried to think this. I tried desperately, but I could not. In the back of my mind, I could not help thinking that today's reading would change our lives drastically. The question that racked my nerves was: How would it change our lives drastically? In what way? Good or bad?

With financial problems looming above us, I did not assume anything. I prayed for the good, but I knew the facts and things did not look good. The fact was that Papa was never a rich man. As far as all of us knew, he was a lucky orphan who defeated the odds to become an educated bookstore owner. We had enough money to thrive throughout these past years, but we never really had the excess cash some fortunate families do. So what could I expect to inherit? I knew that I should not expect any surprises. I knew that father did not have much to pass on except for the things he worked the hardest for in life - Bennett Books and the house on Longbourn Street. The house would provide mother and my youngest sisters shelter and comfort until the bills to maintain the house would become too high to pay. Bennett Books had struggled financially in the past few years. Popular chain bookstores took away many of my father's customers with their lower prices and fancy cafes. The only reason it had survived so long, I concluded, was because of the mysterious donations of money to the store. So, unless the donator decided to contact us, I predicted more problems.

I knew that I could not expect large amounts of money to assist us in the coming years. I doubt we will even receive more than $ 5,000. Large amounts of money. The question of the mysterious donations remained unanswered. I was baffled. I could not think of anyone who would donate such large sums of money to us, so generously and so secretly. It was a puzzle that plagued my thoughts night and day. Who was this donator? Did I even know them?

We arrived at the house early. It was so quiet. How odd. My mother, especially, was unusually reserve - a very rare occurrence. And yet, I could not welcome this stillness.

I remembered numerous times when all I wished for, when I visited home, was some peace and quiet. For once it was silent. And, the silence that I often longed for became unbearable. It felt too abnormal. It was out of place, and it made me feel uncomfortable.

Patiently we waited.

Finally, I heard the familiar sound of a car engine outside. I looked out of the window and saw two men get out of a black car. The doorbell rang.

My mother opened the door. The two men stood in front of us. One was considerably younger than the other one, but there was a striking resemblance between the two. The older one's features were very much like the younger one's, but were obviously tinted with the grays and whites that come with age. I assumed they were related.

The older man approached my mother.

"Hello, Mrs. Bennett."

"Yes, I am Mrs. Bennett, Mr...?"

"Mr. Brennean...Mr. Claude Brennean, Ma'am. How do you do?" He spoke in a distinct British accent.

"I am doing as well as I can be, sir." She looked in the direction of the man standing behind him. "And, who might this be?"

"This is my son," he turned in the direction of the man that began to introduce himself to us.

"How do you do, Mrs. Bennett. I am Britt Brennean," he paused then continued, "I was your late husband's lawyer."
"Nice to meet you. Please come in. Lizzy, Jane please show these men into the living room."

"These are my daughters. Jane. Elizabeth. Mary. Kitty. Lydia. Poor dears! Without a father!" The younger Brennean looked at her sympathetically.

"Mrs. Bennett, we offer are deepest condolences. Your husband was a good man...I did not know anyone who was a kinder and better friend...I am sorry," he said with genuine sadness. Curiously enough, for me, he seemed as if he had more to say. Wished to say more but was in some way unable to.

Was. The past tense. My father would be described in the past tense from now on.

"Thank you."

My mind suddenly realized something. How did Mr. Brennean know my father was a good man? A kinder and better friend? How well did he know my father? Funny, I thought, my father never mentioned him before and he told us frequently that he did not have any more close acquaintances than the circle of friends we always see during the holidays.

I thought I should investigate further.

"Did you know my father very well, sir?"

"Um...er...Yes...We knew each other in England. I was his lawyer until I retired a few years ago." He looked uncomfortable and gave a sideways glance to his son. Trying to get his attention.

"Really? You knew him in England?" I persisted.

"Yes." I awaited a more detailed response, but he turned away. That was all he replied. A simple "yes." I hoped that he would turn around and add on to the "yes," but he did not.

I wanted to ask him how my father lived in England - Papa never told us about it at all - but I decided against it. I observed that Mr. Brennean seemed to regret it bringing up and looked rather nervous.

The younger Brennean got up.

He was a tall man. I observed him. He could not be more than 25. He was a very attractive man with brown hair and expressive blue eyes behind the simple frames of glasses. He had that "smart" yet charming look about him.

Britt Brennean, sensing his father's discomfort whispered something to his father, and the older man seemed to relax a bit. Then he gave me a look.

What was going on? What did I do?

He looked at me with his deep blue eyes. They seemed to entreat me not to mention England any further. Quickly, he turned from my direction and proceeded to talk to my mother.

"Well then, shall we start the reading?" He carried his briefcase into the dinning room, and pulled several papers out of it.

"...To my dear wife, Patricia Bennett, I bequeath the house on Longbourn Street, which has been paid in full. May it provide my widow and my children, until they are ready to live on their own, with a comfortable home, as it has for the past years."

My mother started crying at the mention of her name. Jane handed her a tissue.

"I leave my bookstore, Bennett Books, to my children. It is theirs to control and manage if they so desire. My daughter Mary, who has often expressed a wish to one day be the head of Bennett Books, will become the head, if she decides to take the offer after the completion of her college education. If by her 25th birthday, May 17, 20--, she has not decided to take this offer, provided that she has found another job to occupy her time the bookstore will be passed on. If the family has abandoned it, and leadership and ownership of the bookstore will be the responsibility of Fredrick Collins..."

Mary was stunned. Father did listen to her ideas. She loved books with the passion Father possessed, and even if she did not think he noticed it, father did. I thought about father's decision to possibly pass the bookstore to Freddie and frowned. Of all people! Did he really think that we would abandon it?

"...I leave $4,000 each for Mary, Lydia, and Catherine to help with, and, help only with, unless a serious situation arises which Elizabeth and Jane will decide upon, the payment of their college education... I leave $10,000 each for Jane and Elizabeth... I leave $20,000 for my widow's expenses in the coming years. And, upon the marriage of any of my daughters, they will each receive another added amount of money which will be decided at that time..."

The rest of the will fazed me. I thought I heard the name Wickham, but I must have been wrong. I should have paid more attention. After Mr. Brennean mentioned the amount of money each of us were to receive - an amount that surpassed all my expectations I was dazed. That was a total of $42,000, and it did not include the money to be given to us upon marriage or the other things said in the will. We had an inheritance?

That is a great sum of money...

Britt Brennean, obviously noticing my puzzlement, gave me a look saying: "It will be explained later." He turned away before anyone else noticed his gaze.

"...Mr. Bennett wrote letters to all of his family members which he intended to be given to you all at the end of his life." He distributed the white envelopes with my father's handwriting upon it. "I will give you all a few days to look over the letters. May I schedule another meeting with you in a week?"

My mother, who was crying hysterically as she received the letter, nodded in the affirmative.

"Thank you so much, Sir."

"You are welcome, Ma'am," he looked in the direction of Jane and myself. "May I please see your two elder daughters alone?"

She gave him a look of surprise then exclaimed through her sobs, "Yes! Why of course! You can go into the library."

Jane and I, puzzled, followed him into the room. He then turned to both of us.

"Miss Bennetts, your father's last request was only directed to the two of you. He wished us to talk in private."

Overcome with curiosity, I began. "Mr. Brennean, I don't understand...where did this money come from?"

"Miss Bennett, yes, I noticed your confusion. That question will be answered later, but right now I must speak to you about your father's final request. He requested and entreated my father and I to come and convince you both of the importance that lay in the letters."

Jane spoke, "The importance, Sir?"

"Yes, you see. You have much to learn... and he is not pushing you to follow what is in the letter...but you simply must... must claim responsibilities for...for..." he stopped abruptly. "I am sorry. You probably do not understand what I am saying. But I know your father would want...he truly desired...Just...Please read the letters."

"Sir," I asked, "You must know the contents of the letters, why can you not just tell us? How well did you know my father? Apparently your father knows more about our father than we could ever imagine."

"Miss Bennett, Elizabeth, your father requested that you, especially you, fulfill the tasks in that letter. He wanted you the discover the...truth...on your own."

Truth?

"I don't understand..."

"Please let me continue. As to his relationship with my father. You will discover that as well. On your own. As your father would have liked it. Please do not deny him of this final request."

"Mr. Brennean..."

"Please call me Britt."

"Yes, then Britt what are we discovering, as you say."

"Read the letters and you will find out. Expect to see me soon, Miss Bennett."

"Call me Elizabeth."

"And call me Jane, Please."

"Elizabeth, Jane, then, expect to see me. I have to go now. I fear my father is getting tired. Goodbye. But please consider carefully what is written in those letters. It will determine your future."

Determine my future?

With that, he left us in the library alone. We heard the engine of the car start once again. I looked at Jane. She was obviously as perplexed as I was.

"What could this possibly mean?"

I glanced at the envelop in my hand. Suddenly, frightened.

Chapter 14 - The Letter

Posted on Monday, 19 June 2000

The shock subsided enough for Jane and I to regain our senses and we departed to our own private hideaways to read our letters. I ran to my sanctuary and tore open the envelope. As I opened the crisply folded pages, something fell towards the ground. In my anticipation, I did not bother picking it up. I just read.

My dearest daughter Elizabeth,

Lizzy, I know that if you are reading this I am no longer with you physically on earth. But, my dear, know that I am always with you.

I know that these last few months have been torturous, and I am sorry that they have brought so much pain. I wish it were not this way. I am sorry. I know that you are hurting now, Elizabeth. I know that you are hurting, but please do not grieve too long. Know that you are not alone. Don't shut out the world in times of trouble, as you are prone to do. Move on and live. I do not want you to live your life wallowing in sadness. You were not meant for a life of sorrow. You are to be happy. Enjoy life, my child, while you can...

I am so proud to be your father. I am so proud to be able to call you my daughter. I find myself in awe of you - when I see what a wonderful, beautiful, accomplished woman my little girl has turned into. A woman I am so proud of. I remember you as a young child, not so long ago. Your big, bright eyes used to look at the world with such curiosity and amazement. A lot has changed since then. I cannot believe it was that long ago! Where did the time go? Yet some things have not changed about you. You were and still are intelligent and determined to achieve your goals. These traits were the characteristics that I admired in you. They are also the characteristics you will need to fulfill my final request - to find out what I, cowardly as I was, could not bring myself to tell.

Elizabeth, enclosed is a ticket to England. Go back to my birthplace and discover what I should have revealed. What you have known about my life is not what it seemed. What was my life will be revealed to you (if you go) on your journey to England, as you find out more on your own. This is my final request. If you decide to go, you will learn more through a "game" I have constructed. As you "play along" you will receive clues. All this will be explained by my lawyer, Britt Brennean, and his father, my dear friend and your guide (if you go), Claude Brennean. Matters have all been settled with them. Claude is a dear friend of mine that I trust. I hope you will learn to trust him too.

I have told Jane, and Jane only, of this "game." I believe that it is best if your mother and your younger sisters do not get involved - until truth is revealed. Jane is not to go with you unless you feel that her company is absolutely necessary. I believe she should stay if you are away. Jane does have a way to deal with you mother's "poor nerves" quite well, I dare say...

Lizzy, do not just do this to follow me. Do this for yourself, your sisters, and your mother. If you decide to take up my request, I would like to give you a personal word of warning of the troubles you are apt to face. Above all, I would like to warn you to stay away from Joseph Whitford or any relation to him. PLEASE. Finally, if you do learn what I wanted you to seek and discover, please do not be mad at me for making my own decisions. I know that you do not understand a word that I have penned in this last paragraph now, but you will soon - hopefully.

I know that you are worried Lizzy. But please heed my final request. I know all will be well eventually. Please be strong for your mother's and your sisters' sake. I believe that you can and will make it through this and any situation you face in life. Elizabeth, I believe in you.

Before I conclude, I want you to remember that I have never regret any decision I have made in my life. You, Jane, Mary, Kitty, Lydia, and your mother are the best things that have ever happened to me. I love you all so much. Lizzy, please take care of them, and know that I am always here for you.

Always,

Father

I was stunned beyond expression.

I picked the "something" that had fallen earlier up.

A ticket to England.

What is going on?

Utter and total chaos broke out in my brain.

Chapter 15: The Rules Of The Game

The ink on the letter was smudged as my tears fell freely from my eyes. His words had so much power over me. I must have read the letter over a hundred times. Pondering. Thinking to myself. I was confused before, but now ... now I just did not know anything. What did this entire letter mean?

"What you have known about my life is not what it seemed."

What was your life, father? The questions made my head spin.

The possibilities.

"What was my life will be revealed to you (if you go) on your journey to England, as you find out more on your own. This is my final request."

Of course, I would not deny him his final request. I looked at the ticket, dried my tears, and ran back to the house.

Jane was equally startled and confused, but she believed that I should go to England. She said that she had every confidence that I could solve this mystery. We decided that matters should be settled as quickly and as clandestinely as possible. As soon as we got back to our apartment I called the Brenneans up and we planned to meet with Britt Brennean and his father for dinner the next day.

As soon as I hung up the phone, I began to ring. It was George.

"Hello, darling."

"Hello, George."

"What's the matter? Why do you sound so glum?"

"It is nothing..."

"Wait a minute... Today was your father's will reading, right?"

"Yeah."

"I am sorry...so..." He ventured to ask something, but stopped.

"No, we didn't really receive anything." I refrained myself, with much difficulty, from telling this kind man all my troubles. I seemed to have offended him with my interruption.

"No! I don't care whether or not you did...I mean... no, that is not what I was going to ask you."

"I am sorry. That was just the first thing that came into my head."

"Lizzy, it would not matter to me if you had one penny left in your bank. I don't care about what you did get."

"I am sorry, I didn't mean to assume or jump to conclusions. What were you going to ask? "

"It's okay... I was just wondering just how are you coping..."

"I am fine," I lied.

"I know that is not true. But, if you were up for it I was wondering if you wanted to go to dinner with me tomorrow night."

"Sorry, George I am busy. I have Monday and Sunday is not free either..."

"That's okay, babycakes. Maybe we will meet sometime during the week ... You will call me if you are free, right Lizzy?" He sounded so hopeful.

"Of course I will, sweetie."

"Well, I have got to go. Talk to you later, okay?"

"Okay. Bye."

I could not help but sigh.

If you asked me where George and I stood in our relationship, I don't think I could answer clearly. There were only two things I did know about our relationship. I was attracted to him not only for his physical attributes but also for his sincere and caring manner. He was sweet and lovable. Loveable. I knew that I did not love him yet, but I knew that I may be well on my way to loving him. Well on my way.

~That Saturday evening~

Jane and I met the Brenneans at a small restaurant in DC. We ordered then discussed the matter at hand.

"So you have read the letters." We both nodded in the affirmative.

"But," I began, "Father wrote such an ambiguous message that I did not know what to think. What does all of this mean?"

What does all of this mean? A question that has plagued my thought for the last day.

I wanted answers.

"What do you make of it, Elizabeth. Does your meeting with us ensure that you will attempt to fulfill your father's last wish?"

"Of course we will...How can we refuse?"

Then Claude Brennean smiled. "See my boy, I told you she would listen!" How could they smile? My patience was running low.

"Sir, Mr. Brennean, please tell us what this is all about! What is my father's plan? What is his intention? What is his secret! You know and yet you will not tell me!" Jane looked at me beckoning me to refrain from losing my temper.

"Lizzy, calm down. I am sure they will explain."

"I understand why you are so anxious, Elizabeth and Jane. It is true I do know," Britt spoke, "but your father has requested that you find out yourself."

"So I must go to England?"

"Yes."

"What is the purpose? What will I gain?"

"You will gain a lot my dear," the elder Brennean said. "I know things are hard on you right now, but in the end all will be right."

In the end all will be right

How does everyone but me know that everything will turn out right? How do they know?

I felt like crying in frustration and anger.

"You are to finish this year at school and will go to England this summer. Your father has arrangements made there."

"What of this 'game father speaks of?'"

"Ah, the game. He has arranged that you receive a series of letters. Before you go to England you will be given a letter instructing you where to go and what to do. Then, when you the place indicated in the first letter, you will receive another letter. It is a hunt. A puzzle really. A clue for a find."

"Why couldn't he just have told us? Would that not have been easier?" I sighed.

"He thought it would be best if you found out on your own. He was afraid of what you might think of him if he told you personally."

What did father do that was so awful? What is he so ashamed of? Why didn't he tell me? I was afraid of what I might find out.

"What of this man Joseph Whitford?"

"Joseph Whitford was an acquaintance of your father that did him much wrong. He was the one mentioned in the will."

So it was Whitford not Wickham.

"Is he a dangerous man?" Jane was worried.

"We are not sure. No one has heard from him in years."

"Your father just issued a warning as a precaution, but do not worry we will keep you safe," Britt Brennean assured me.

We made other arrangements to meet as it was getting late. This meeting did not really answer my questions, but it satisfied me for now.

As Jane and I departed for the door, Claude Brennean stopped me.

"Elizabeth! Wait!"

He caught up with us.

"I forgot to give this to you. I thought you should have it. Your father put it in my care years ago. Maybe it will help you for now."

He took the small package and gave it to me.

"What is this?"

"Just open it."

Britt looked at his father and whispered, "Are you sure that it was wise to give them that?"

His father nodded. "It is truly theirs."

I thanked him and we left.

"What could this be?"

Chapter 16: A Package

Posted on Wednesday, 21 June 2000

As Jane and I drove back to our apartment, we rode together in silence once again. I needed time to absorb all the information we had just received in the past two days.

So many mysteries.

I glanced at the package that lay in my lap.

The prospect of its contents both thrilled me and frightened me. But who could blame me for being afraid? I had found out so much in the past few days - information I desperately wanted and did not want to know. I felt that now I did not know anything about my father - the man I thought I knew the best.

The car was finally parked. Jane looked at me, and then both of us quickly ran up the steps to our apartment. As soon as the door opened, I set the package on the table. I wanted to open it, but all I could do was stare.

"Jane...what do you think it is?"

"I haven't a clue."

"Shall we open it..."

"Oh, Lizzy, I am quite afraid of finding out what is inside..."

"So am I..."

"What if..."

"But Mr. Brennean said that..."

"Let's just open it."

"Okay..."

"Why don't you?"

"No. Why me? You."

"At this rate we will never see its contents...Let's open it together."

Each of us took a side and we tore the brown paper that was wrapped around it.

Oh my.

Before us was the most beautiful mahogany box that both of us had ever seen. There were intricate patterns and designs on the sides. On the lid of the box there was carved an elegant letter "B."

"It's magnificent!"

"Yes, it is lovely. Let's open it."

The hinges squeaked as we lifted the top. It probably had not been opened in years. Inside was something tied by a string and wrapped in delicate, white tissue paper that had turned yellow. I pulled the string, pushed the tissue paper away, and gasped.

There in the front of me was the face of a handsome, young man. It took me awhile to recognize the man as my father. Captured in a picture. Photographs in black and white.

Jane and I went through the small stack of photographs that depicted my father's early life. There he was as a little baby, then a tot, and then a little boy, and then a young man. Jane and I had our moments of "wows," "ahs," and "oh my goshes." In some of the pictures friends surrounded him. In others, he was by himself. But in all of them, he looked so happy.

We got to the final picture. It was different. He was happy to be sure, but it was different. Singular. Distinct.

This picture did not capture my father with just any ordinary friend.

There was my father sitting on a rock near a small pond, and sitting on his lap was a beautiful woman. She had bright eyes and a stunning expression. She lay back in his arms smiling radiantly. My father looked at her with adoring eyes. They looked absolutely blissful.

Truly romantic.

Tender.

Passionate.

Loving.

Expressions of pure love. Between my father and this woman. Yet...

This woman was not my mother.

I turned the photo and read the inscription, written in an elegant hand, on its back.

To my "handsome prince,"

Just a simple remembrance of a perfect day.
My darling, never forget my words to you.

Love,

Your "beautiful angel"

Oh my.

Jane looked at me with questioning eyes. This was too much for one day. I did not say anything; I put the photo away and went to bed.

Chapter 17: Mystery I Cannot Comprehend

I would rather live in a world where my life is surrounded by mystery than live in a world so small that my mind could comprehend it.

~Harry Emerson Fosdick

Harry Emerson Fosdick, I suppose, may be considered wise by other wise men and women for acknowledging a desire to live in a world of mystery. For wishing to experience a world larger then what he could comprehend. In any other circumstance I would agree with him. In any other circumstance I would wish for mystery. For the unknown. For the larger world that I would learn to comprehend. In any other circumstance.

In this circumstance another mystery was just overwhelming. From the day my father has died, has left me, my world, the world that I thought I knew, was steadily crumbling. My life is, at present, full of mystery, and I find myself not wishing as Fosdick did; rather, I find myself wishing for the exact opposite. For the world that I can comprehend because this world of confusion that has suddenly invaded is so disconcerting.

After opening the box with Jane, I went to bed. At least that is what I intended to do, but I found myself unable to accomplish my intention of sleeping. I lay in my bed and looked at the ceiling for what felt like several hours. I could not stop thinking about...everything. I looked at my clock. 2:30 am. I was restless and agitated. I tried to sleep. I counted sheep. Sung songs to myself. Tried to read. Finally, I decided to get up and get something to drink. Slowly, I walked out of my room. Jane had somehow successfully fallen asleep and I did not want to wake her. I walked into the room we had opened the box in. The box was still there on the table with its beautiful engravings. Next to it were the photographs. I was drawn to them.

I sat on the sofa and picked the photographs up again. I shifted through them again. Slowly and deliberately.

The last picture. The picture of my father with that woman.

I turned it over and read the elegant hand again. And again. And again.

"My darling, never forget my words to you."

What were those words exactly? Words of undying love? Everlasting love?

I suppose not. For their love did somehow die. I think...

I looked at the woman. She was so happy with my father. She must have been in love with him. He must have loved her.

Love.

I touched the pendant.

I looked at her again. I don't know her. I did not recognize her.

I laid back on the couch. Imagining. Thinking. Wondering.

Dreaming.

I awoke the next morning on the couch with the faces of a woman and my father in front of me. They were still there. Present in my mind. Tangible proof that they did exist.

Jane came in fully dressed.

"Lizzy, are you well?"

"Yes, Jane, thank you. I believe I am going to be all right."

She motioned to the picture in my hand.

"I couldn't stop thinking about them either, Lizzy."

"Did you get some sleep?"

"A little. I was just exhausted." Both physically and mentally.

"Who do you think she is?"

"I don't know."

"Do you think we should show Mama?"

"I think we should keep this to ourselves, Jane. At least for now."

"I have to go. I am running late."

"Goodbye Jane."

What was the meaning of all of this? I needed to get in contact with the Brenneans soon.

God knows, I have a large task ahead of me.

Chapter 18: And I Take the First Step

Posted on Friday, 23 June 2000

The will reading was done. Finally. I was left with many confusing questions, but it was done and I was glad. At least, we were not so badly off as I thought we were. The mystery of the unknown woman who apparently was once my father's love remained. But, I had to put those thoughts aside for the meanwhile.

Jane and I needed to return to our own jobs and tasks. We had already missed so much in the past few weeks. I went back to work and school on Monday, and I tried to adjust back to my normal, busy schedule. I found that it was not easy with so much on my mind. I had many fears. But in an effort to get away from the nagging questions and the mysteries at hand, I dived into my work with much "enthusiasm" and I received good grades plus a bonus at work.

Life was going on.

As far as relationships went, I could definitely say things progressed. For both Jane and myself. Jane and Charles were together often. He was so attentive towards her and Jane was in love with him. Whenever I would ask her about her feelings towards him she would just blush and look away. I observed Charlie together with her. He had to be in love with her too. My relationship with George deepened. He took me out many times and we had a lot of fun together. He was always the perfect gentleman and I enjoyed his company. I knew I was falling for him hard, but I could not dismiss the memory of a man I seem to have fallen harder, more quickly, and consequently more painfully for.

Damn him for being so wonderful then!

I touched what hung upon my neck. The pendant. It was simply beautiful. Intricate knots of silver formed an intriguing design around the green jewel that was set in the center. The small onyx stones were embedded into the corners of the silver design added to the magnificence of the treasure.

The pendent was his gift to me the last time I saw him. It was a perfect gift. I vowed never to take it off. I gave him something too. A ring. Something he said he would "always treasure" because he said that I was someone he "would never forget." Sure. Those were definitely words he sure forgot.

Although the whole experience had hurt me so much, I kept with my promise and I never took the pendant off. I maintained a hope that he would come back. That he had not just forgotten. That his words were lies. That was five and a half years ago. How much time had passed. I was so young. He was so young. I did not know that much about him, in the short time I had know him, yet my heart took over my senses and I jumped into a relationship that I wished... I wish that...I wish... NO. I should not wish! Why do I wish? I have the lovely George Wickham at my feet and I wish for him? No. No more wishing. Time to move on.

I knew that if I wanted to move on and truly enjoy George's company I had to forget him. Forget him. Forget him. I had to forget my hopes of seeing him as a passerby on the street. I had to forget my dreams of love at first sight. I had to forget it all. But how could I forget him with a constant reminder hanging from my neck, so close to the heart he had broken?

I looked at my reflection in the mirror, and my eyes gazed at the lovely pendant. I had to take it off. That is the only solution. I kept telling my self that even if I did see him again I would not know him. Maybe it was better that way. So, I concluded, what is the point of wearing the pendant. He is not coming back, Lizzy. He is not coming back. He is not coming back. If he really loved you, he would have already come back. You would be in his arms. He would kiss you and wipe your tears away. But he is not here.

I was crying.

Oh Ben.... You said that you loved me. But you were apparently wrong. But I still loved you. I wanted to hate you. To say I could not forgive you. To forget you. But I could not.

No. I fought the tears, and I looked at the pendant once more. Then, I slowly reached for the clip of the chain and took the necklace off.

There that was not so bad.

But it was dreadful. It felt unusual. My neck suddenly felt empty. So did my heart. It was as if I had lost something deep in my soul. The pendant had become such a part of me.

It is not a part of me anymore. You are not going to be part of me any more, Ben. This is farewell.

I am moving on. I tried to think this with as much composure possible, looked at the pendant in my hand, and cried.

Just then the phone rang.

"Hello."

"Hey Lizzy. This is George. How are you doll?"

"Okay, I guess."

I glanced at the table next to me and I spotted the invitation to the Christmas Ball at Jane's hospital. Christmas and the ball was only a week away. I guess that now I moved on...

"George, how would you like to come to a ball with me for Christmas?"

"A ball?"

"Yes, Jane's hospital is having a benefit ball on Christmas day. Come with me?"

"Hmm...Although Christmas day with you sounds tempting I will have to give you an answer later. I might be busy but I will try very hard to come."

Disappointment.

"I will be sure to contact you soon."

Be optimistic.

"That's great. Okay, I will talk to you later then."

"Bye."

This is a start. The first step to forgetting him forever.

I loved you once, but goodbye. Goodbye Ben, forever.

Chapter 19: To Take A Chance

Posted on Monday, 26 June 2000

"Lizzy you are on in three."

"Thanks."

I stepped up to stage and greeted the audience. I looked at the crowd, saw a familiar face, and almost missed my cue. I looked at him as he stared at me with his blue eyes, and I sighed to myself. Forget him. Ben. Here is someone else.

Love is funny or it's sad
Or its quiet or its mad
It's a good thing or its bad
But beautiful

He winked at me and smiled. How did he know that I worked here?

Beautiful to take a chance
And if you fall you fall
And I'm thinkin'
I wouldn't mind at all

No, I wouldn't mind either...

Love is tearful or it's gay
It's a problem or it's play
It's heartache either way

Heartache. Will I ever avoid it?

But Beautiful
And I'm thinkin' if you were mine
I'd never let you go
And that would be but beautiful
I know

He held my attention.

But Beautiful
And I'm thinkin' if you were mine
I'd never let you go
And that would be but beautiful
I know

He stood up and applauded. After I had finished my entire show, I went back stage and saw a bouquet of roses addressed to me. George.

I opened the card.

Surprise. Beautiful, Lizzy. Nothing but beautiful. This is how I would like to say... "Yes." Christmas would sound perfect with you. I am sorry this is so late. Love always, George.

I ran to him.

"You are so sweet."

Locked in my embrace he spoke, "Glad you liked it. I love your response. I love to make you happy, Lizzy."

Here there was only silence.

"So how did you find this place," I finally managed to say.

"Jane told me you worked here, and I decided to pay a visit. Surprised?"

"Yes! Did you like the show?"

"Like it? No." I felt dejected.

"I loved it. You have an incredible voice!" I felt wonderful.

Why did he play with my emotions this way?

"Let me take you out. We can find a dress for you for this ball."

I could only nod.

Despite the commercially driven aspects of the winter holiday season, the shopping frenzies, and the emptiness of my pocket after one trip to the mall, Christmas is still one of my favorite holidays. The rush to find the perfect gifts and the frustrations that accompany it may dampen the spirit for some people but not for me. Christmas is such a wonderful time, and I cannot think of any occurrence that could spoil this simply great mood I generally find myself in. (Okay, I can think of one or two things, but I am an optimistic person.)

I think Christmas brings out the best in a lot of people. Yuletide cheer creates a contagious spirit of happiness and joy. For at least one day in the year most people try to enjoy living their life and being with their family and friends. The Christmas spirit encourages us to be generous, kind, and forgiving. If only people would act as it if was Christmas the whole year round. Maybe then more people would be happier and the world would be a better place.

In between work, schoolwork, wrapping presents, decorating, and interesting visits with mother, I found time to prepare for the Christmas Benefit Ball for the hospital Jane and Charles worked at. Naturally, Charlie was taking Jane. He also mentioned that he had invited his sisters and a few of his friends visiting from England. Despite the possible risks, Jane and I decided to bring our mother and our sisters. We hoped that it would be an enjoyable occasion for them.

We went to Montgomery Mall and about ten stores, forty dresses (none that I particularly liked), and three hours later, we sat down on one of those mall benches in exhaustion. Thirsty, I went to get a drink at the food court. George stayed at the bench to watch our bags. When I returned I witnessed an interesting scene from a distance.

George looked as white as a sheet at the sight of two well-dressed men whose faces I could not see very well. I moved closer and was able to see the expression on the men's faces. I saw the taller one's obviously unfriendly, angry glare at George. George seemed unsettled and nervous. As the taller one moved closer to George, the shorter one pulled him back, telling him persistently, " Will, come on. Let's go...we don't want to cause a scene...Come on Will..." The taller one angrily averted his gaze and began to move in the other direction. Then, in a mumbled voice I heard the taller man say, "Let's go, Rich. But God help him if he doesn't stay out of my way..."

You could feel the tension in the air dispel as the two men disappeared. I finally left my hiding place and approached George.

What happened?

George was in a daze. When I came up to him, he did not notice my presence.

"George? George? Hello? George?"

"Who was that? What was that about?"

"That...That was nothing," he scowled. I was surprised by his unpleasant tone, and decided not to mention it further. As I sat down next to him, he stood up.

"Listen Lizzy, I am not feeling too well. And I am sorry for just yelling at you now. I think maybe I should leave and get some rest at home."

"Yes. Of course. Talk to you later. Goodbye." In the sullen mood that suddenly came upon him, he left.

I spent the rest of the day shopping for a dress.

Alone.

Eventually I did find a gorgeous crimson dress at a small shop. I wondered what George would think of it.

Or if he even cared.

Why did I even doubt him? Of course he cared.

Nonetheless, what was that all about?

Will someone ever give me answers to anything?

Chapter 20: The Grinch Really Stole Christmas And More

Posted on Saturday, 8 July 2000

This chapter is for all my lovely readers who have waited 19 long chapters for the introduction of one "special" character...we all know that character is Carina Bingley, right? ;) . I would like mention especially the following people who have helped me continue to write this story: Jennifer, Tanisha, Andréa, Kara, Crysty, Leah, Gabby, Tiki, Kimmie, and AL (yes, your name is really AL, the sea monkey). Thanks!

~Welcome To A Bennett Christmas~

I awoke on Christmas morning to the loud, pleasant scream of my youngest sister Lydia as she ran through the halls: "IT'S CHRISTMAS!! WAKE UP! PRESENTS!!!!!!!"

I thought to myself, "Maybe we should have just stayed at the apartment this Christmas." What a wake up call. I wanted to stay under the warm covers of the bed, but Jane, already dressed, shook me awake.

"Lizzy! Get up! It's Christmas!" I struggled to open my eyes and moved into the warmth of the bed. "Lizzy! Come on!" Finally, after clobbering me with a pillow, I slowly got out of bed and rubbed the sleep out of my eyes.

"I'm up! I'm up! Merry Christmas, Jane!" I said as I whacked her with the pillow that had laid under my head.

"A peaceful start to the holidays, Lizzy?"

"Of course," I smiled as we shook a truce.

Somewhere in the halls I heard a strident voice singing: "HAVE A HOLLY JOLLY CHRISTMAS!! IT'S THE BEST TIME OF THE YEAR!"

"Who or should I say what is that?" Jane peered out of the door.

"You don't know? My, my, my, Lizzy you must be tired. Okay, I will give you one guess," she snickered as I yawned. "A clue?"

"I DON'T KNOW IF THERE'LL BE SNOW BUT HAVE A CUP OF CHEER!"

I nodded wearily.

"HAVE A HOLLY JOLLY CHRISTMAS...DA DEE DUM DA DUM DEE DUM...SAY HELLO TO FRIENDS YOU KNOW AND EVERY ONE YOU MEET!"

"One of our most...overactive sisters! "

"OH, HO, THE MISTLETOE HUNG WHERE YOU CAN SEE...MAMA!!! WE DON'T HAVE MISTLETOE DO WE? I WANT MISTLETOE! WE HAVE TO HAVE MISTLETOE...."

"Lydia?"

"MAMA, WHY DON'T WE HAVE MISTELTOE?"

"Did you not recognize her voice?"

I smiled then said, "I am sure she would want mistletoe for certain purposes of her own, Jane. Did you know those Butler boys from next door are coming over today?"

"Lizzy!" She looked at me with an upbraiding face but her eyes told me she believed me.

"But, it is true!" I smirked when I knew she had no retort.

"Girls! Hurry down. Breakfast is waiting!" Mother seemed very happy today.

"GIRLS STOP DAWDLING! BREAKFAST IS GETTING COLD!"

We ran downstairs.

Thus started our first Christmas day without father.

Christmas without father seemed like a far away concept to me a few months ago. But it was reality that I found it hard to believe. Christmas has always been a family affair. Jane and I drove back to Baltimore to spend Christmas Eve and Christmas morning with our family. We stayed up late on Christmas Eve, wrapping last minute gifts and reminiscing about past Christmases. I remember Christmas as the time when mother and father were most together. Everyone was always in a lovely mood. We actually enjoyed the time together.

No Grinch could destroy Christmas. Presents or no presents. I prayed that nothing could ruin today.

After breakfast, we gathered around the tree. Lydia was as giddy as a five year old as she reached out for a present and began to open it. Kitty eagerly awaited the rest of us but picked up a box and started to shake it. Mary sat quietly in the corner.

Mary. I was worried about her. As the middle child she never really got much attention. Jane and I had a special surprise for her this Christmas. Mary has always been quiet and subdued. She has never cared much for her looks and had always preferred a book over makeup. Jane and I saw the potential in Mary. Suddenly, Jane and I had begun to notice that she started wanting more than books. No one else noticed. Mother had given up on her a while ago. Lucky girl.

So along with The Complete Works of Shakespeare, Jane and I were going to give her a makeover for tonight's ball and a date.

The details of Project Mary:

Mary has a great smile and good-looking eyes. She just hides everything.

We had bought her contacts a while ago. We needed to cut her hair. We had bought a lot of clothes that she could try on. In the box she will open, there will be a gown for her for tonight.

She has never dated anyone. This will be a first. I thought she might like some company, because Kitty will have a date with the youngest Butler next door. His mother is a Gone With the Wind fanatic who named her son Rhett. Lydia surprisingly enough did not find anyone who could take her, but she is usually flirting.

The date-

Jeremy Mitchell: A quiet, friendly waiter at The Blue Spot. Has a great knowledge of books and is a good-looking freshman in college. Light brown hair and green eyes. Originally from New York. Has a nice accent. Talented in humorous and witty conversation. All-around nice guy. Equals: Perfect date for Mary.

When Mary opened her present she gave a sigh when she saw the book. She added it to the pile of books in the corner. When she opened the makeover suggestion, she smiled and nodded. She was content. She picked up the dark blue gown we had chosen for her and she nearly gasped. I still had to tell her about the date.

Lydia squealed as she opened her presents and then pouted when the open-back top that she had wanted was not there.

"MAMA!!! You said you would buy it!"

Mother of course had saved it until last and then Lydia jumped for, immediately tried it on.

Way too revealing.

"Can I wear this to the ball tonight?"

"No!" Jane and I jumped in.

"You had already picked out a dress that we agreed upon, Lydia."

"But..."

"No!"

"Not fair!"

She ran to her room.

We ignored her and went to work on Project Mary. Kitty decided to help us.

We made Mary put on her contacts after we had cut her hair to better suit her face. We applied a little makeup and were amazed with the change.

You could see her pretty eyes without those big frames in the way, and you could see her face without the long hair covering her. We brought her to a mirror.

"Is that really me?"

"Yes. Of course that is you silly!"

"I just didn't recognize myself."

"You look great! Jeremy will love it!"

"Jeremy?"

"Oh..."

"Well, we thought you might like some company tonight and we...um...set you up with someone."

"A date?"

"Yeah. If you don't want to go I can tell him."

"No. I mean...don't tell him I won't go. Please."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course I am! Lizzy, Jane, Kitty thank you! I have always wanted something like this. But, I confess now I am nervous!"

"Don't worry you will do fine! Go and see Mama!"

"Mary, darling! Where are you? I already checked the library and you were not in there."

"I am here," she said as we all went to Mama.

We approached my mother and she looked at us and said, "Well you three are here, but where is Mary? Who is this?"

"Don't you recognize me, Mama?"

"Mary! What happen to you?"

"Oh nothing happen to her Mama! Doesn't she look great?"

"Yes."

"Well, Mama we have to get going. Jane has to be back early and you have to get dressed. Mary your date will be coming a 6:00. Kitty you are driving Mama, your date, and Lydia tonight, right?

"Yes."

"We will see you later!"

"Bye!"

Jane and Charlie needed an extra singer for the show so I agreed to sing tonight. We had to get ready.

We showered and dressed.

Jane came out in her a stunning black dress. I helped her with her hair.

I came out and she said, "Wow! You look amazing. George will love it."

"I hope so."

Jane looked at her watch and had to leave. "See you there."

~Christmas Night

I glanced at the clock on the wall. 7:00.

This was it. The night of the ball. Jane had to leave early to make finishing touches onto the ballroom. The ball started at 7:30. George said he would come pick me up at 6:30. I had dressed up, got my hair done, and waited for George to come.

My good mood was deflated gradually.

7:00.

I nervously paced the room. My feet were getting tired from pacing in heels.

Where is he?

The phone rang, and an unwelcome suspicion entered my brain. I ran to the phone and picked it up.

"Hey, Lizzy!"

"Don't hey me, George! Where have you been? Where are you? You said you would be here thirty...THIRTY minutes ago!"

"Lizzy, babe..."

"Don't call me babe, George, if you are not showing up!"

"Lizzy, I am sorry. I am sick. I have got the flu. Have not been feeling well. I should have called you earlier but I took some medicine that knocked me out. It had some kind of alcohol in it. I just woke up just now. I swear!"

"I don't care what you...swear! George, you are telling me you can't make it? I can't believe you. I just can't..."

"I am sorry, Lizzy. I hope this doesn't spoil your Christmas."

"Whatever, you...you ...Grinch! Merry Christmas, my foot!"

I hung up on him.

~a minute later~

The phone rang again. I picked it up.

"Lizzy, I am so..."

"I don't want to talk to you."

I hung up on him again.

It rang again and again and again.

I hung up on him again and again and again.

Finally, fed up I said, "GO AWAY!"

"Lizzy?" I heard a soft feminine voice say before I once again hung up the phone. "It's me, Jane..."

"Jane! Oh, I am so sorry. I thought you were someone else."

"Are you okay? Where are you?"

"No, I am not okay."

"What is wrong?"

"I am not going to the ball, Jane."

The problem: My mother is going to be at the ball and I will be there without a date.

Panic!

"What!? You can't do that! You have to go, Lizzy! You are singing tonight and you don't want to deny this crowd the pleasure of your voice! You have to come! Why not?"

"Jane, I know, but George can't make it."

"Oh Lizzy, I am sorry."

"Yeah, well I am staying home and that is final."

"No it is not, if I can help it! Don't be ridiculous. Just because George can't come doesn't mean you can't either! Mother is coming here soon with all the kids and I will need help. Didn't you spend over $100 for that gown, and what am I going to do about the show without you? Please come! No, I demand you come Elizabeth Bennett, as your sister and a coordinator of this event!"

"But..." I heard someone talking to Jane, a rustle of a gown, and an opening and closing of a door.

"Hello?"

"Lizzy, this is Charlie. Hello. I heard about your predicament."

"Where is Jane?"

"She is taking a breather. Things are getting a little stressful down here."

"Is she okay?"

"Yes. She is just a little upset." I hope I did not hurt Jane's feelings. "I just told her to relax. What is this I hear, though? You can't make it?"

"Charlie, I just can't go."

"Listen, you have to come! It will be a ball...pun not intended. If you don't come over I will personally see to it that you get here, even if I have to drive there myself."

"Fine then, Charlie. See you soon."

"Great!"

"And Charlie..."

"Yes?"

"Please tell my sister I am sorry. I didn't mean to upset her."

"Will do. Don't worry I will take care of her."

"And Charlie..."

"Yes?"

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"For being such a great person for Jane. For helping her through the last few months." I paused before I asked him, "You do care about her, don't you?"

He paused and in a quiet tender voice he said, "Yes, Lizzy, I do. Jane is an incredible woman. I would do anything to help her."

There was silence here. Both of us were engrossed in our own thoughts.

"Merry Christmas, Charlie."

"Merry Christmas, Lizzy. I better see you soon."

"You will. Go help Jane now, okay? Bye."

I hung up the phone with a smile on my face. At least one of us is happy.

I found my keys and drove to the hotel where the ball was being held.

Alone.

Again.

~the ball~

I got out of my car reluctantly. Despite the information I had learned from Charlie, my spirits were down and I was upset. Upset. That was an understatement. But it was Christmas and I was going to spend it with my family happily. Jane did need my help and I could not abandon her like George had abandoned me. I bottled up those feelings of hurt and disappointment, determined to enjoy myself or at least have the appearance that I was, and walked into the hotel - dressed my best with a smile.

I was guided into the ballroom, and my spirits were suddenly elevated when I saw the festive decorations. As I examined the room more closely, I could see Jane's elegant touch from the ceiling to the floor. Her personality was sprinkled throughout the room. I took pride in the fact that my sister had helped with the set up of this event. It was truly a wonderful job. I wanted to tell her personally what a spectacular sight it was, but was very unsuccessful in locating her among the throng of partiers.

As I moved through the multitude of people, I was shocked by the unpleasant view of a greasy man in a bright green tuxedo moving in my direction. Freddie Collins. What was he doing here? The last thing I need to raise my Christmas cheer is to be accosted by that obsequious imbecile. I thought I could hide in the crowd so I turned and moved quickly in the other direction, only to see my mother coming towards me from the other side in an attention-grabbing red frilled dress.

Good Lord.

I could not go anywhere else. In the back of me there was a large, tall wall (that of course I could not climb, though the thought occurred to me) and in the front of me there was a mass of people who crowded any possible way out. I suddenly wished that the ballroom was somehow larger or that someone would for some reason need me immediately. Alas, that was a fanciful wish.

I was cornered.

Surrounded.

Trapped.

No tactical maneuverings could help me escape from this unavoidable debacle.

I mustered up the best smile I could make in the situation and prepared for the inevitable and dreaded meetings.

Mother moved in, pretending that she did not see me. She continued to look around and then, at the sight of "my dear Fredrick" feigned a look of surprise. Surprise indeed. She moved over towards him then said a few words about me. "How wonderful it is for you to spend Christmas with us. Lizzy has been quite excited about this night. She bought a new dress..." If you could call it so, out of the blue, Mother turned in my direction, looked at threw her hands up in the air in a cheerful manner and loudly said, "Look who is here, Freddie!" Then, she waved at me, grabbed a hold of his hand, and pushed through the crowd stopping in front of me. I believe nothing, save a hurricane or, better yet, a bus full of handsome, rich, interested and available men, could have deterred my mother from bringing him to me.

Talk about strategies: Select an unsuspecting, gullible male, persuade him to believe what cannot be true about his character, allow him to believe that your daughter has taken a fancy towards him, take him to a dance that your daughter-victim happens to be at, then, at the right moment, corner your daughter - giving her no choice but to see him.

"Strategy, girls! Strategy is the key"

How many times has Mother said that? It makes her seem so superficial. So unromantic. The concept in itself, the use of flirtation, strategy, and planning, to obtain security, other wise known to the world as a husband seems so absurd to me, a true dreamer and fairy tale believer. What I do know is that Mother once and still may believe in marriage with love. I know she loved father. She fell in love with father, but somehow along the way, I suspect she grew I insecure with the concept of love. Insecure with my father's love? Possibly. I remember the Mother of my childhood. She used to tell us fairy tales. She spoke of them like a true romantic; she glittered them with happily-ever-after endings and elaborated upon the hopes of young love in the face of dragons and dangers. I know she once believed in them. But, that belief, once so brilliant, has apparently dulled. Now, when Mother talks about marriage she rarely talks of love; she hopes for love but she does not expect love. When she talks of our future husbands, she speaks of the game that is involved in the pursuit of a man. A pursuit for the perfect man. The perfect man does not have to be handsome, I suppose, for she did pick Freddie...The perfect man, in her opinion, has to be able to support her girls. He should be rich. The picking and choosing...sounds more like a hunt to me. It is a game to her. A game to get her daughters married before it is "too late." This is no ordinary, fun game; it is a complex, serious game filled with strategy and premeditated thought. Strategy is exactly what she needs to win this game. Ever since we hit puberty she has been playing this game of matchmaker like a game of chess. We are her pawns. She waits to strike. She has been fishing for a man that would one day be her ideal future son-in-law. Looking for the perfect, but elusive "Mr. Right." Deliberate planning. I know she is thinking of the moves towards checkmate. If she wins, her prize will include: the chance to give her daughter an extravagant wedding, the feeling of security, and the hope that she will one day have grandchildren. This game is more fun for her then it is for us, the daughters.

I think she has too much fun.

"Lizzy, my darling, you finally showed up!"

"Hello, Mother."

"So where is that handsome, young man of yours, Lizzy?"

"Who? George?"

"Of course. That George."

"Oh...um...he couldn't make it tonight." Oh boy, here it comes.

"Could not make it? He stood you up Lizzy, didn't he! Oh, to be stood up on Christmas Day of all days...and my poor darling was so excited!"

"Mama! He is ill with the flu."

"Ill! The flu you say? Of course, darling...Hmph, so that is what they call it now!"

"Mama..."

"Now, now dear, I am sure he did not mean to leave you by yourself. Let us think no more of it. It is Christmas after all." I looked down embarrassed, but my mother interpreted my action as a sign of disappointment and sadness.

"Dear, dear, don't be so glum. Look what Santa brought along for you!" She turned in the direction of Freddie Collins. He waved at me and I wanted to stick my head in the floor.

Oh joy.

"Freddie, I didn't expect to see you here..."

"Lizzy," my mother commented, "I had managed to get an extra ticket and I thought it might be wonderful for you and Freddie to be here together on such a happy holiday."

She looked at Freddie with such an approving glare I thought I was going to be sick. "Look at that, you two match!" She squealed as she pointed to my red dress and his green tux. "Christmas colors! Did you two plan this?"

Why does she still insist on Freddie when I am together with George? I gave her a look and she whispered to me, "It is always good to have a backup!" I rolled my eyes; then, to my absolute horror, Freddie moved closer to me...too close.

"Lizzy, how fabulous to see you here. Please let me say, as a privileged man to know you so closely," with that comment he looked at my mother, "that you look absolutely delicious tonight."

Good God, did he just say delicious?

He smiled at me in a way that could not be misinterpreted.

Help!

His moronic brain finally realized the presence of my mother and the level of impropriety his words were in front of my mother. Embarrassed, I suppose, in front of my mother (he was not at all regretful in saying those words to me), he stuttered, "I mean...how delightful to see you here...er...yes...you look breathtaking..."

Did he have to be speaking about me?

Oh God. I could not stand it anymore. Could not fake a smile any longer. I had to find a way out. There was a maze of people around us, but I was determined to leave. Need an excuse...any excuse...think, Lizzy. Think!

"Excuse me, please, I have to use the restroom." They mumbled a reply that I did not wait for. I do not think I would be able to understand them anyway because my head was spinning. I was in such a foul mood. I was not paying attention as I made my way finally away from the crowd, and bumped into someone causing their glass of champagne to spill. The clear drink was on the floor, on my dress, and on the tuxedo of the man in front of me whose glass held the wet substance that had split.

Damn. Why me?

"Hey! Watch where you are going, miss," an English accent spoke.

"I am terribly sorry, sir."

He began to dry the front of his tuxedo with his handkerchief.

"Do you normally start conversations with people by douching them with champagne or am I the only one privileged enough to receive the honor," he said as he handed me the cloth to dry the champagne that had spilled onto my red dress.

"It was an accident. I was rushing and I did not see you."

"Apparently. If you are not aware, it is customary for people to look where they are walking."

Insufferable, arrogant man!

"Do you always start conversations by irritating people..."

"Feisty, aren't we, little one?" He chuckled. I was annoyed.

Teasing was the last thing I needed.

Finally, I looked up to see his face.

My mouth nearly detached from my face and fell to the floor. He was nothing less than gorgeous. He had a fine, tall figure, black curly hair, and deep, chocolate brown eyes. I took a deep breath and glared at him communicating my frustration at his presumptuous comments. I turned my back to him and I began to walk away, but the floor was slippery and I slipped backwards towards the ground.

Suddenly, I felt warm arms around me, helping me regain my balance. I looked behind me, and grew uncomfortable when I saw the handsome eyes of the infuriating man I had tried to leave.

"Are you all right?"

"Yes. I am fine." I tried to compose myself.

"Are you sure?" He sounded concerned.

Bothersome man!

"Yes!"

He laughed once again.

"What is so funny?" I look angrily at him.

"Nothing." He smiled. "Why are you going so quickly?"

"Running from some unwelcome company..." I mumbled. Did I just say that to him?

"And who might you be running from?"

"What makes you think I want it as your business?"

"Maybe I could help."

"Help! How, pray tell me, can an irritating person, like you, ever help me? And what makes you think I would want you to? You aren't exactly what I pictured a knight in shining armor to look like."

He opened his mouth preparing to send a retort to my comment, but I turned my attention away from him as I heard my name being called.

"Lizzy!" It was Jane.

I saw her and tried to move but blushed when I realized that he had not released me from his arms.

"Excuse me, sir."

"Ah... sorry," he said as he released me from his hold. Yeah, sure you are. The ballroom was suddenly very cold.

A beeper beeped. It was his. He looked in my direction.

I looked at him and left.

Good Riddance.

"Jane!"

"Lizzy! You came! I have been looking all over for you. Oh, I knew you would come! Mama told me that she saw you."

"Jane, why is Freddie here?"

"I don't know Lizzy. I have no clue how Mama managed to get a hold of an extra ticket."

"At least you don't have to deal with him Jane since Mama approves of your Charles so much." She blushed.

"He is not my Charles, Lizzy."

"I think he soon will be." Jane only smiled prettily as Charlie came from behind her and kissed her cheek.

"Charles!"

"Hello, Lizzy. You made it! Thank goodness...I was prepared to get my car ready!"

"How are you, Charlie?"

"I am wonderful, thank you. And you?"

"Okay."

He whispered something to Jane and she excused herself to attend to some detail for the show. Charlie looked at me and said, "Merry Christmas, Lizzy. So are you ready for the show tonight?"

"Of course, Charlie! I do not mean to disappoint!"

"Great! We will need you on the stage soon."

"I will head up there now."

"I know you will do just great, Lizzy!"

"Thanks!"

"Tonight we have a special guest here to share her talents. Let me present Miss Elizabeth Bennett."

I stepped out on stage and looked out.

Applause. Silence ensued as I picked up the microphone.

"Merry Christmas, everyone! Thank you for coming out tonight."

The band started a familiar melody.

Chestnuts roasting on an open fire
Jack Frost nipping at your nose
Yuletide carols being sung by a choir
And folks dressed up like Eskimos

I noticed someone had stepped into the room late. That infuriating man I had spilled champagne on. He looked agitated as he looked for somebody, but my singing apparently caught his attention.

Everybody knows a turkey and some mistletoe
Help to make the season bright
Tiny tots with their eyes all a glow
Will find it hard to sleep tonight

His gaze fell upon me. He looked at me directly in a way that affected me in a way I cannot explain. He was analyzing me. Evaluating me. It made me uncomfortable yet not uncomfortable. Familiar yet not familiar enough.

They know that Santa's on his way
He's loaded lots of toys and goodies on his sleigh
And every mother's child is going to try
To see if reindeer really know how to fly

Oddly disconcerting. Intriguing. Who did he think he was looking at me that way? He looked down at his hands once then looked at me again. Never leaving my form. Then I found his gaze with my own eyes and glared at him, but I found I could not look at him angrily or remove my stare from his. I could not tear my eyes away. It was a challenge.

And so we are offering this simple phrase
To kids from one to ninety two
Although it has been said many times many ways
Merry Christmas to you

The song had ended and there was applause. I had to bow so I removed my eyes from him, and when I looked up once again he was gone. I sang my last number.

Have yourself a merry little Christmas
Let your heart be light
Next year all our troubles will be out of sight

I hope so.

Have yourself a Merry little Christmas
Make the Yuletide gay
Next year all our troubles will be miles away
Once again as in olden days
Happy golden days of yore
Faithful friends who are dear to us
Will be near to us once more
Someday soon we all will be together
If the fates allow

I hope that I may have a "Merry Little Christmas."

Until then we'll have to muddle through somehow.
So have yourself a merry little Christmas now.

Applause. I looked out and saw my family, especially my mother, looking happy.

"Lizzy! Wonderful job!"

"Yes, darling that was lovely."

"Thank you, Jane. Mother."

"No, thank you for doing that for me," Jane said.

"No problem."

"Charlie wants to introduce us to his family and his friends over from England. Come on!"

My sisters, my mother, and I followed him.

"Lizzy, great job!"

"Thanks, Charlie."

"Let me introduce my family and friends." He led us towards them.

The party was in a corner waiting for Charlie. It was made up of three men and two women. They were dressed fashionably. As we approached them, I heard my mother and Lydia in the background whisper, "Oh my! What a lovely dress!", "Isn't he cute!", "I wonder how old he is? Or if he is single." I prayed that they could not hear.

"This is my eldest sister Lana and her husband Mr. Herbert Hurst." He turned to the short, older woman dressed in an elegantly patterned gown. Her beauty, which was still visible, was fading. Her husband was a tall, portly man with a beard. He was very distracted, by what, I do not know, and spoke very little. In fact throughout the entire introduction, he did not look anyone straight in the eye.

Charlie pointed to a slender, tall, beautiful woman who was wearing very tall heels that made her tower over her brother like a giant. Her dress was made of an interesting fiery orange material that I later learned was the newest trend in France. The dress was tight, risqué. The material hung seductively at the waist, the neckline was too low, and the slits on the sides were too high. She forced a smile and nodded her head acknowledging us. "This is my younger sister, Carina." She observed me, stuck her nose up in the air, and turned away. She then attached herself onto a man in the corner that paid no notice of her smiles and allurements.

Charlie ignored his sister, and smiled as he approached two men.

"This is my good friend William Darcy." I looked up and was surprised to see the face that belonged to the puzzling man who teased me earlier. He looked at me with astonishment and proceeded to stare at me silently. Again I found myself unable to look away. He seemed so familiar.

"Well, hello." He was mute. I looked at his face again. Where have I seen him before?

"I wonder why he does not say anything, Lizzy. Quite rude I think!" My mother whispered loudly.

"Mother, he might hear you."

"I don't care if he does!"

"This is Will's cousin, navy man Lieutenant Commander Richard Fitzwilliam." Richard Fitzwilliam was dressed in his naval uniform and was breathtaking. He looked like his cousin. Tall, dark, and handsome. He flashed us a stunning, friendly smile. He was warm, unlike his taciturn cousin. "Hello, ladies. Please call me, Rich. It is a pleasure to meet you." He bowed. Lydia giggled. "I hope your Christmas has been merry!"

"Thank you, sir. Yes. Very merry indeed," my mother said with an approving look.

He looked vaguely familiar as well. As he came to shake my hand, he, like his cousin looked at me longer than what is necessary for an introduction.

"Hello, Rich."

Rich. The mall. Is that where I recognize him? I looked at him again. Yes. Rich and Will. I decided not to mention their confrontation with George.

I looked at them again. I had a feeling that we had met before, even before the mall. A silly notion came into my head. Ben? I started to inspect their hands. Nothing. Silly. Childish. It is foolish to hold on to such a hope. Plain silly. Move on. Move on. Move on.

Suddenly while my mother was speaking, Mr. Darcy who was apparently very preoccupied even before my mother spoke, turned and walked away.

"Oh," Rich said quickly, "I believe he had a call. Busy man, my cousin." He smiled.

"Rude I tell you, Lizzy! Rude!"

Rich frowned and shifted uncomfortably.

"What does your cousin do, Rich?" I tried to change the subject.

"He has his own business," he muttered as my mother exclaimed in the excitement of meeting such important people, "Please to meet you all. Where are you from...How are you enjoying your stay..." My mother continued on so that none of the party could get a word in edgewise. It went on like this for about ten minutes. When my mother decided to stop and take a breath, Lana, her husband, and Carina had fled. Only Charlie and Rich remained and eventually they took their leave with a polite "Excuse us" and headed to get a cocktail (or something stronger) at the bar.

"Oh what a nice gentleman, Lizzy! Oh, but that odious Mr. Darcy!"

"Mama, he was probably busy."

"Hmph."

All this talk gave me a sudden headache. I was embarrassed and needed some refreshing air. The previous conversation and meeting made the ballroom a bit stifling so I went out to the balcony.

Peace and quiet at last. I walked for a little while and then it started to snow. I looked up at the sky as the white crystals came floating down.

A White Christmas.

I laughed. Just what I wanted. At least one thing went right tonight. I twirled around with my tongue open catching the falling flakes. I forgot about the people inside and the problems of my life. It was uplifting.

Suddenly, I was interrupted from my peaceful reverie by a deep, unrecognizable voice uttering my name uncertainly.

"Elizabeth? Did I get your name right?"

"Yes?" I turned around and saw Rich. I had stopped my twirling abruptly.

"Oh excuse me. Did I interrupt something?"

"No," I composed myself, "I was just..." Think!

"Just having fun." He smiled. "It is snowing! Isn't great?" He twirled around. I smiled. How sweet! "A White Christmas."

"Listen, why are you out here anyway? Why aren't you inside having fun?"

"I wasn't feeling too well."

"Yeah, I noticed. How are you? Are you okay? You did look rather pale in there."

"Yes. I am fine. Thank you."

I looked up and found myself gazing into his eyes.

"Have we met?"

"I don't know, Rich...you look so familiar."

"I feel like I have meet you before too."

"Listen, why don't you come in and dance with me? Come on! It can't hurt. And, I promise not to step on your feet!"

"Okay." He grabbed my hand and we headed into the ballroom.

When we got to the dance floor, someone had told the band that it was snowing, so they decided to play " White Christmas." The perfect song. He held me at a comfortable, yet close distance. I felt like I knew him so well. Strange.

I'm dreaming of a White Christmas.
Just like the ones I used to know.

"You are a great dancer."

I blushed and said, "Thank you. You are not bad yourself."

"Now that is a compliment." He must be kidding me! He was dancing as if he had known ballroom from the time he could walk.

"Are you from England too? You don't have an accent."

Where the treetops glisten,
and children listen to hear sleigh bells in the snow.

"I was born there. I came over here a while ago."

"Oh."

I'm dreaming of a White Christmas
With every Christmas card I write

"I hope you are feeling better."

May your days be merry and bright.

"Yes. Much better, thanks Rich." I smiled at him.

"No problem."

And may all your Christmases be white!

He twirled me around and smiled as the song came to an end.

"Promise me another dance before you go, Miss Bennett," he said.

"Of course, Lieutenant Commander, sir!"

"Very good, Lizzy. Thank you."

He was so pleasant. So open and friendly. He helped me forget about my problems. He left me to go to his cousin. I went to find Mary. Unable to find Mary and her date, I gave up and sat in a seat that was in a corner close to them. I was at hearing distance.

"Come on, Will! You have to enjoy yourself. Dance!"

"I cannot."

"Why not?"

"Rich, I got a page..." He mumbled. "...How can enjoy when I know that you-know-who..."

"Will, please calm yourself. It is Christmas. You can think of better ways to occupy your time then thinking of...shhh...here comes Bingley."

I glanced over at the two men wondering if they noticed my presence. Mr. Darcy's face grimaced. Downcast. Depressing. He was not enjoying himself. As he saw Charlie come forward I saw him manage a smile.

"Ah, Will and Rich! Are you having a good time?"

"Yes, we are!" Rich replied. "Aren't we Will?"

"Of course. Thank you for inviting us, Charlie. It has been wonderfully done."

"Yes, it has."

"Thank you! But come now...you, Darcy, I know, are not having a good time."

Mr. Darcy moved uncomfortably. "Well...there is a lack of ladies."

"Lack of ladies!" Charlie sighed. "I don't think there could be a lack of ladies here, Darcy!"

"Of course you would not, Charlie." Rich replied. "You have been quite occupied with one lady in particular, I see." Charlie blushed. "You have danced with the beautiful Jane all night."

"I agree with you Rich, Jane Bennett is a beautiful woman."

Charlie grinned and said, "Yes, she is an angel!"

"Nonetheless, despite the fact that I am enjoying myself, my guest must too. I insist! Darcy, I cannot see what you are talking about when you say lack of ladies. I mean look over there - there is Jane's sister. Isn't she also quite pretty, Darcy?"

Rich spoke up and said, "I think so. Will, I have just danced with her. She is a great dancer and a beauty."

I blushed and turned away. I hope they don't know that I am listening.

"She is average."

Average!

"Average? I would think she was more than average, Will! Isn't she a rather tempting woman? I believe she can lure you to the dance floor."

"Lure me? I don't think so!"

"Not beautiful enough, Darcy?"

Charlie was called away and Mr. Darcy said, "Richard, she is not beautiful enough to tempt me towards the dance floor tonight - no woman is capable of doing that tonight, even if it is Christmas. Listen, if you think she is so great, why don't you go and dance with her. I am going to call. Unlike you, I am worried. You have fun." He marched off.

How arrogant! I am sorry he had to descend from his high horse to look at me! How ridiculous! I laughed in spite of his comment, for it meant nothing to me. He brushed past me as he headed for the phone tense.

Rich walked over towards me.

"What is wrong with your cousin?"

"Will? Oh...well he is not feeling too well."

"A little anti-social?"

"Well, he is not in the best of moods. He is livelier when he is feeling better."

"I see."

"Shall we dance another, Madam." I giggled then reminded myself that I was not in high school anymore, composed myself, and with a smile, replied, "Why, of course sir!"

I was having such a good time without George. It startled me.

I looked at the dance floor and saw Kitty dancing with Rhett, Jane with Charlie, and Mary heading out to the balcony with Jeremy. Lydia was nowhere to be seen, but as the dance ended I heard a loud snort that could only be produced from Lydia's mouth.

"Oh no."

Where is she? I left Rich to find Lydia. Jane heard the laugh as well and we moved together towards the stage where the noise was coming from. The sight was petrifying and overwhelming. Oh my God.

Lydia was on stage in her short black tube dress talking to the band. She tripped as she walked towards the microphone. There she was on the stage. My sister was on the stage, stumbling. Laughing.

Obviously drunk.

The band laughed at her and began to pick up their instruments. Lydia winked at the drummer.

This cannot be good.

Lydia claimed the microphone and her high voice was heard throughout the entire hall.

Good grief. Jane looked at me. I felt helpless.

What should we do? What should we do?

Hyperventilating.

My sister just had to be one of those happy, hyper drunks, didn't she?

"I would like to dedicate this song I am about to sing for all you ladies out there who have ever had like the worst guy problems in the world. I hear you, girrrrrrlllllllssss!" Her valley girl voice was piercing.

This is not happening, right? God. It was.

The band started.

No. I wanted to run up there and snatch that microphone from her hands but I was frozen in my spot.

She began to sing.

At first I was afraid, I was petrified
Kept thinking I could never live without you by my side
But then I spent so many nights
Thinkin' how you did me wrong and I grew strong
And I learned how to get along

Lord. She started dancing. Inappropriately. Moving suggestively across the stage. How am I related to her again? She walked up to the guitar player and started playing with his tie.

And so you're back, from outta space
I just walked in to find you here with that sad look upon your face.
I should have changed that stupid lock
I should have made you leave your key
If I had known for just one second you'd be back to bother me

What are we supposed to do? I felt my cheek burn red as more people came closer to the stage.

Go now go, walk out the door
Just turn around now
Cause you're not welcome anymore
Weren't you the one who tried to hurt me with goodbye
Think I'd crumble?
Think I'd lay down and die?
Oh no, not I, I will survive

You will survive?!?! I don't think so Lydia! Not after I deal with you!

Oh as long as I know how to love I know I'll be alive
I've got all my life to live
I've got all my love to give and I'll survive
I will survive. Hey, hey.

Ouch! The "hey" was a little too high pitched.

What was she doing now? Prancing? There was hooting and whistles in the background as she strutted around on-stage.

Oh my God. Can someone just rocket me off the face of this earth right now?

I was unmoving, numb in my place.

She didn't stop, but continued with the second verse.

It took all the strength I had not to fall apart
Kept tryin' hard to mend the pieces of my broken heart
And I spent oh so many nights
Just feeling sorry for myself
I used to cry
But now I hold my head up high
And you see me, somebody new
I'm not that chained up little person still in love with you.
And so you feel like droppin' in
And just expect me to be free
Now I'm saving all my money for someone who's loving me

Lydia, you stupid girl! Jane looked at me unbelieving. Charlie rushed over.

And it was not over yet.

Go now go, walk out the door
Just turn around now
Cause you're not welcome anymore
Weren't you the one who tried to hurt me with goodbye
Think I'd crumble?
Think I'd lay down and die?
Oh no, not I, I will survive
Oh as long as I know how to love I know I'll be alive
I've got all my life to live
I've got all my love to give and I'll survive
I will survive. Hey, Hey.

Oh God. She bowed. "Thank you! Thank ye!"

Utter humiliation as the applause and "accolades" for my tipsy sister continued.

"Encore," someone yelled.

"No!" She tripped as Jane, Kitty, Rhett, and I made our way towards the stage.

Mr. Darcy who had come back from his urgent phone calls had seen the entire episode in amusement. I saw his eyes upon me as I yanked Lydia up from the ground. Was he laughing?

Just great!

"Whose daughter is that?" I heard in the crowd. Mother, hearing it too, responds, "Mine! Isn't she dazzling?"

Shoot me now.

Rhett, Kitty, Jane and I dragged her away from the crowd.

Let us see if she survives this. The reprimand and the punishment.

"Lydia! What do you think you are doing?"

"Iuno..."

"You are so drunk."

"Iuno..."

ARGH!

"Kitty, where is Mary?"

"I could not find Mary and Jeremy anywhere. I don't think they were here to see...that," she put tactfully.

"I suppose they should enjoy themselves."

Kitty was apologizing to Rhett.

"Why don't you two go and get some coffee. Be back later," Jane said.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, Kitty, go ahead." Rhett looked at her, smiled, and said, "Let's go."

When they had left the room, Jane and I looked down on Lydia who was slumped over in a chair.

"Where did you ever get alcohol Lydia?"

"No wheres...hee hee! Hey! Look at the pretty wall paper!"

"My God, Lydia, just tell us?"

"Okie dokie...Well you see my friend said that I could get a fake ID and I said sure...It was like so great for me when the guy who I asked if I could have a drink said to show him some ID..." She held up the fake ID. "Look at the pretty picture of my face on it!"

"Lydia, do you know how stupid... "

"Those are illegal! It is illegal to drink alcohol. It is illegal to have a fake ID to get alcohol."

"Oops?"

"Oops! Oops!!!!! You know what," I said in a frustrated sigh, "I think it is time to go for you and mom to go home!"

"But Lizzy..."

"No! I am taking you home now!" I paused. No use ruining everyone else's evening. "Jane I will take them home. Kitty has a car. You have your car. I am sure you three will want to enjoy with your dates."

"Lizzy maybe I should come with you."

"No, it is okay, Jane. I am sure Charlie is looking for you anyway."

"Fine then," she said, resigned.

"I will see you at the apartment."

"Bye. And Jane you might need these." I handed her a bottle of Tylenol that I had just taken a few pills from.

I grabbed Lydia who could not even walk without any support and began to head for the door.

Oh what a night.

To make things even better, Freddie Collins hindered us from leaving.

"Lizzy! I saw what your sister has done! Such a display is not welcome to your good name..."

"Thank you, Freddie. Goodnight!" I pushed through him and headed for the car.

I drove them home. I will not divulge into the gruesome details of the horrendous journey.

I dropped them off and then headed back to the apartment. Tired. Frustrated. Mortified. Took out a tub of ice cream and ate until it was gone. Sickened, I washed up, hung up my dress, changed into pajamas, and headed for bed.

I said earlier that nothing could upset my Christmas mood. Well, I learned otherwise tonight. The one or two occurrences I believed might ruin it did not even come close to the magnitude and the impact of this event.

The genius Dr. Seuss created the character the Grinch that was unsuccessful in stealing the joy of Christmas from Whosville. Well, the Grinch must have come here and stolen Christmas from me.

This was certainly a Christmas to remember.

songs:
Have A Holly Jolly Christmas (Johnny Marks)
The Christmas Song (R. Wells/Mel Torme)
Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas (Martin/Blaine)
White Christmas (Irving Berlin)
I Will Survive (Gloria Glaynor)

Chapter 16: A Sisterly Chat

Posted on Sunday, 24 December 2000

Restless. I stared at the ceiling, trying to fall asleep, but images of my youngest sister making a complete fool of herself haunted me. Every time I closed my eyes all I could hear was that bloody song. I had no one to talk to. It was late, but Jane was not home yet. I could not take it any longer. So, I got up, made myself a cup of tea, and sat outside on the balcony. It was a clear night; I relaxed in the stillness, gazing at the stars. The quiet atmosphere was almost romantic. The wintry wind touched my face, and a tune got into my head.

The evening breeze
Caressed the trees tenderly
The trembling trees embraced the breeze tenderly
Then you and I
Came wondering by
And lost in a sigh were we...

I stopped.

Suddenly, I felt so alone. I was alone. George stood me up; and, at the ball, all I seemed to attract was unwanted attention from either the obsequious or the egotistical. Then, I thought of him. Loneliness filled my heart.

...The shore was kissed by sea and mist tenderly
I can't forget
How two hearts met breathlessly
You're arms open wide
And closed me inside
You took my lips
You took my love so tenderly

Tonight, something made me remember, remember him. I was young, but I know I loved him; of course, he disappeared from my life and probably has forgotten me...

When will I learn never to sing love songs?

A cold chill crawled onto my neck. I shivered and decided to go inside. As I turned to go into the apartment, the front door opened and Jane walked in smiling, floating on cloud nine.

"Hello, Lizzy!" She was practically singing.

"Hi, Jane. You look quite euphoric." A rosy glow crept onto her face.

"Oh, Lizzy, I am indescribably happy...I don't deserve this; I don't deserve him!"

"You must be kidding me. What do you mean don't deserve him, Jane?"

"He is just so wonderful, so understanding and considerate, especially after Lydia's..."

I lost her as she drifted to another world, eyes shinning. I grinned.

"Yes, Jane, Charlie's rather nice."

"He is better than just nice, Lizzy. That is not enough to describe him! He has so many great qualities. He is a great conversationalist," she paused then touched her lips, "...and he is an awfully great kisser." She looked me in the eye and winked. I fell to giggles as I witnessed my sister in this giddy state. She was twinkling.

"He looks good too. I suppose that is a definite asset."

"He is so handsome. He has such a pleasant smile, and I love his eyes...He is perfect, Lizzy!"

The look on her face was almost hilarious. If only I was that happy.

If only.

"Jane?"

"Hmmm..."

"Jane?" Oh boy. Could she get that smile off of her face? "Jane?"

"Oh...yeah?"

"You're in love with him, aren't you?"

She did not say anything, but I knew the answer by the smile on her face.

I turned to go to my room realizing that conversation with her may be virtually impossible, but her voice called me back.

"What about you, Lizzy?"

"What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean."

"No, I don't believe I do."

She just shook her head and said, "I hope you enjoyed at least a little tonight...You did catch the attention of at least one good looking gentleman and must admit you did enjoy yourself for little while."

"I did?"

"Weren't you dancing with Richard Fitzwilliam."

"Yes, but..." I thought of Rich. I smiled at the memory of dancing in his arms, memories of smiles and laughter. I don't know why, but he seemed so familiar. He made me felt comfortable.

"See, you had some fun. I think the evening had potential."

"Had, being the key word, Jane."

"Well, you might see him around."

"Jane, I know what you are thinking. No. Absolutely not, Rich was just being nice. I mean, I like him as a person but that is it! And, did you totally forget George?"

"You did not see him after you left, poor guy, and as much as you like George have you already forgotten that he stood you up tonight?"

"No..."

"See! And you guys aren't that serious..."

"Yeah, but..."

"I like Rich. He is a good guy."

"I am happy with George!"

"Don't convince yourself you are something you are not."

I was silent. She looked at me apologetically.

"Jane, did you have too many glasses of champagne? I hate to tell you this but you are turning into mom."

"Oh no. Heck, it was bound to happen some day," she winked.

She was not drunk, no she obliviously happy and in love.

"So stop while you're ahead."

"I will stop after I make my suggestion."

"Uh huh. A 'suggestion' ...which is?"

"Think about Rich."

"Whatever."

"I mean it. Anyway, what do you think of Charles' friends?"

"Most of them were civil."

"What do you mean by most?"

"Rich may have been sweet, Jane, but his cousin definitely was not."

"Who? Will? Will Darcy?"

"Yes, that would be the very one." I laughed and she looked at me, bewildered. I explained everything to her.

"I can't believe that."

"Jane it is no matter to me if he insists that I am 'not handsome enough to tempt' him! My pride has fully recovered! Though, it does surprise me that Charlie is such a good friend with such a man."

"Charles has know both Will and Rich for a long time. Charlie was born here, but his father's business called for them to move to England when he was eleven. The Darcys and the Fitzwilliams were his neighbors in London. They went to school together at Eton and have been friends since then."

"What kinds of business are the Bingleys in?"

"Charles mentioned something about a clothing..."

"Wait! His family is the owner of Bingley Design? Don't they also own a publishing company?"

"I guess so."

These people were richer than we would ever be.

"Why is Charlie here, as a doctor?"

"Carina said that her brother wanted to move away from the family business, at least for the time being, and pursue his dream of becoming a doctor. He wanted to be in a profession where he felt he would be helping those that needed help. Isn't that great? He will inherit the company, but he still loves medicine."

"Yes, but what does Carina and his family think of it? I am sure she is not happy that her brother is over in America."

"She did not seem to approve."

Surprise. Surprise.

"I don't like her that much. She thinks to much of herself."

"Actually, Lizzy, I like Carina. She doesn't seem as proud as you think she is, if you talk to her. In fact, she invited me over to their house for lunch on Saturday. But, I will need a ride. Can you take me?"

"Sure, I can drop you off before I meet the Brenneans. We are also going to the Phillips to spend the night...remember?"

"Oh! I completely forgot."

The Phillips were my cousins. It was a family tradition that on the weekend after Christmas all of us get together. Since we were kids, we would usually come over for dinner, but Mother and Aunt Sally would talk (gossip) for so long that it would be well into the evening before we left. So, instead of leaving, we would all sleep over. It is probably the only time in the year the whole family is together. Well, besides special and occasions when the family must come together. Like Weddings & Funerals. Funerals.

We saw the family a few more times this year.

"Jane, just bring stuff when you go to Charlie's and we can go directly to the Phillips right after I pick you up."

"Okay. Thanks, Lizzy!"

"No problem."

It was no problem at all. As long as Jane is happy.

As long as one of us is happy.

Chapter 17: Ice

Posted on Wednesday, 3 January 2001

I pulled my feet from the warm comforts of my bed and tiredly touched the floor. The contact sent a chill throughout my body. It was a bitterly cold Saturday morning and all I wanted to do was stay in bed. To remain under the covers was a tempting idea, but I remembered that Jane wanted to visit the Bingleys and I had a meeting with the Brenneans. So, I dragged myself out of bed and got dressed.

I went to the kitchen and found it empty. It was almost nine o' clock, but Jane's door was still closed. Both of us were early risers and I found it quite unusual for Jane to still be in bed, especially if she was eager to see Charlie. I knocked on the door and received no reply. I opened the door to find Jane's room extraordinarily dark. The curtains were still drawn closed and it seemed that life had flown out of the room. It was almost eerie.

"Jane?" I stepped tentatively.

Again, my sister made no reply. I was worried so I quickly went to her bed and searched for her under a mountain of blankets. Finally, I found her, shivering and asleep. I shook her, but she would not budge. This rarely occurred. Jane was a very light sleeper.

"Jane? Honey, it is almost ten. We'll be late!" I took my hand and pressed it against her forehead. It was a little too warm. "Jane?"

"Lizzy?" She was groggy and dazed. Jane had mentioned that there was a bad strain of the flu going around at the hospital. She began to cough quite violently.

"Jane, are you okay? Maybe you should stay home today?"

She looked at me and somehow pulled herself up in between coughs. "No, Lizzy, I am perfectly fine. I should go to the Bingleys today. Plus we have that invitation to the Philips. I cannot miss that tradition..."

"That cough doesn't seem good to me, Jane. You know Charlie won't mind if you can't make it because you are sick. He wouldn't want you to get any worst..."

"No...I don't want to miss talking to Carina." I thought something definitely must be wrong if she wanted to risk her health just to talk to her. "Plus, I am sure this will is one of those quick bugs that will be gone in a few hours. Lizzy, hand me the tissues please."

"Jane, don't be stubborn. It is definitely too cold outside and it can only make you worst. You need your rest. Why don't you call Carina and tell her you will possibly meet her later today?"

"No, I will be fine. I just need to eat something. Help me up."

I just looked at her.

"Well, come on."

She was relentless. With a determination people rarely see in Jane, she insisted on going despite my pleas otherwise. She got dressed and I made breakfast. Jane ate, had a drink of water, took a couple cough drops, and looked at me.

"Shall we go?" Against all my intuition and instinct, I mumbled an "okay" and got the keys. I think Jane managed a self-satisfied smile, much to my irritation.

We drove to the Bingleys' home in Potomac in silence. I believe Jane was too tired to say anything and I quickly regretted my decision. I was ready to turn the car around but Jane's voice said, "We're here. Turn there, Lizzy, onto Netherfield Drive." The drive way was long. I thought we would never get there, but then again I must remember that this was Potomac. Finally a large mansion, note I do not say house, came into view. "Are you sure this is it?"

"Well...that is the number."

"It's...wow."

"Yes, it is...quite...big." Big was an understatement. It was grand. The house was gorgeous. Its brick front was decorated with simple red ribbons and wreaths. Smoke came from chimney, promising a warm fire. I parked the car. As soon as Jane and I opened the car door the freezing temperatures enveloped us. I looked a Jane, her nose was red and she was coughing. I hurried her past the icy sidewalks towards the door; she needed to get inside. We rang the doorbell, and Carina came to the door. She saw my sister bundled up like an Eskimo, and quickly let her in.

"Jane, darling, welcome! Come in! Come in! It must be freezing." As I followed Jane in, the door was shut in my face. I loved the amount of Christmas Spirit Carina Bingley possessed. As I turned around to go to my car, fingers and ears stiff from the frigid wind, the door opened once again. I saw pale Jane's face calling out to me. Carina was behind her.

"Oh God, Eliza, silly me! I am sorry! I didn't see you there..." Her glare meant quite the opposite. "Please come in."

"Carina, it is no problem at all," I said through my teeth, "But actually I have to be going. I have an appointment. Goodbye Carina. Jane, take care of yourself."

"Lizzy, I'll be fine...I'll call you when I'm ready to go, all right?" She sent me a sympathetic glance, "I hope the meeting goes well." Jane was white as a sheet and coughing; I didn't want to leave her, but Carina pushed her into the house and I didn't have the time to reason with her. As I backed out of the driveway, it started to snow. Great. Just what I needed, a rough ride on the belt-way. Before I came to the exit, my cell began to ring. I picked up and an agitated masculine voice greeted me.

"Lizzy! Hi... um, it's Charlie."

"Hello! How are you?"

"I'm fine...but Jane's not feeling too good."

Oh God...Oh God.

"What's wrong? What happened? Is she all right?"

"Don't worry, Lizzy. I think she's got the stomach flu. She passed out just as I got home. We got her to rest, but she hasn't woken up yet. I am sure she would want you here."

"Yes, of course. I am sorry, Charlie. I told her she should have stayed home."

"Don't worry. I'll take care of her. You can trust me on that."

"I don't doubt it."

As I drove back, snowfall was picking up and driving conditions worsened. I slowly made it to Netherfield Drive. I parked and rushed out of the car. In my hurry, I slipped on a patch of ice. I felt myself lose balance; my hands struggled to steady myself ineffectively. Yet as I fell backwards, strong arms caught me by the waist. I looked up. Suddenly, I was mesmerized by deep brown eyes. I could not tear myself away from that look, a look that reminded me so much of him. I gasped and thought, "Ben?" No, I shook my head, it couldn't be. I was too distracted by the warm, heavy breathing against my neck and the electricity that ran through my body as a result to remove myself from his hold. Finally, I regained my senses and nearly jumped when I found that I was again in the arms of William Darcy.

""Little on-" I shot him a look. "Excuse me, I meant Miss Bennett, are you all right? That was nearly quite a fall."

"I am fine, thank you. And I do believe you can let go of me now."

"Oh...yes." I got up, out of his arms, slightly embarrassed, but alive.

"It is icy."

"Yes, It is rather slippery."

"Really? I had not noticed."

After an awkward pause he said, "It is rather cold out here." The wind was blowing bitter cold around our faces. I had to agree. "Shall we go inside?"

"Yes, I believe I would like that, Mr. Darcy. I know how tempting the warmth of a house is during such frigid weather." He took a double take on my words.

"Excuse me?"

"Oh, it was nothing of importance. But, I would like to ask you, for inquiring minds would like to know, do you like dancing, Mr. Darcy?" The look on his face was priceless.

"I..."

"Come now, never mind it, but I do believe I can't feel my feet anymore. Will you please show me inside?"

He led the way taking long strides, silently.

"Mr. Darcy, do you know if my sister is all right?"

"Your sister is here? Oh, no, I am sorry, I don't. I just got back when I saw you pull up. "

"Oh." We got to the door and Charlie ushered me in with anxiousness and urgency written clear across his face. Mr. Darcy disappeared.

"I don't really know what happened, Lizzy. Carina told me she passed out after eating some stuffing. Is she allergic to stuffing? Herbs in stuffing? Bread? I don't know. I hope she is okay...It was just a few minutes after they sat down for lunch. But, she has been out since then, but I know she will be all right, I think she will be all right. Oh God, I hope she is all right. Has she been ill long?"

"She was not feeling well this morning, though she still insisted on coming. I thought she was a little feverish. Had quite a cough as well. She didn't really eat anything. She mentioned something about a slight stomachache."

"She probably has the flu. It has to be the flu. Is fainting one of the symptoms? Well...lots of the patients have gotten it, but what if it isn't the flu. What if it is something worst? Lizzy, we should call a doctor!"

"Ah, Charlie, you are a doctor."

"Oh...um...yeah." He ran his hand through his tousled hair. I chuckled at his exclamations. He was concerned about her. From his great worry, Charlie looked like he needed medical attention as well. "I guess she will be okay...Well, I put her in this room. I thought it is where she would be most comfortable."

We entered an elegant bedroom. Jane lay sleeping on a large, carved canopy. She looked quite peaceful. I thought it would be best to let her sleep. I was already late for my meeting with the Brenneans, but I could probably reschedule under the circumstances.

"Charlie, can Jane sleep a little while longer? She looks exhausted. I'll wake her up in a while and we'll go home. I need to cancel a meeting, I'll be back." I took my cell phone out and tried to catch a signal. I wasn't looking were I was going and I backed into someone.

"Oh my gosh. I'm so sorry." I looked up and saw a gorgeous smile looking down on me.

"Lizzy, what a surprise! Are you okay?"

"Rich! Hello, I'm okay, thanks, but I really am sorry. I should look where I am going!"

"It's no problem at all. You see, beautiful women rarely run into me, so I believe it's a pleasure," he grinned.

"Do you have to be such a charmer, Rich? And, as to my beauty I know you are lying."

"Oh really? A charmer, she calls me! I should be flattered. As to your beauty, how would you know what I think?" He moved closer to me and I raised an eyebrow. I saw the teasing gleam in his eyes and nearly fell down laughing.

"You're cute."

"Of course, I am!"

"And modest as well."

"Well, yeah."

He smiled. I recalled Jane's words: Think about Rich. If I didn't think about George I decided that couldn't be a bad idea. What am I getting myself into? I turned my head and saw Mr. Darcy in the hall, looking at his cousin with an inquiring glance. How long had he been standing there? He acknowledged his presence after I glared at him.

"Hello, Miss Bennett. If you would excuse us; Rich, I need to talk to you."

"Of course, Mr. Darcy."

"Hope Jane feels better soon, Lizzy. Maybe we'll bump into one another soon?" Rich winked at me. Mr. Darcy rolled his eyes.

"Thanks."

They entered the sitting room where Carina and Charlie were, chose a corner away from the siblings and were talking intently. Carina was reading a book intently and Charlie was pacing.

I finally got a signal right outside of the room.

"Hello. Is this James Brennean?" Carina Bingley looked up from her book.

"Yes, this is he."

"Hello James, this is Lizzy Bennett. How're you? How was your holiday?"

"It was good and I am fine, thanks. You?"

"I'm wonderful. Unfortunately, I cannot come to our meeting today. Jane is not feeling well."

"I am sorry, I hope she feels better. Of course, I understand. We will have to reschedule a meeting, then."

"Thank you. My apologies to you and your father again."

"No problem."

"Bye."

"Goodbye." Carina followed me with her eyes like a hawk.

I ignored her and climbed the stairs towards Jane's room. I nearly got lost on my way. Finally, I opened the right door and Jane began to wake up.

"Lizzy? Where am I?"

"Jane, I am so glad you are awake! Don't you remember? You're at Charlie's house. You passed out earlier..."

"I passed out?"

"You don't remember?"

"No...How did you know?"

"Charlie called my cell, and I came as soon as I can."

"Thanks, Lizzy. Help me up; I think we should go home now. This has been disastrous. I have made a total fool out of myself by not listening to you this morning. I'm sorry." She got out of bed, but stumbled and frantically grabbed my hand.

"I should have stayed in bed." She looked at me with glassy eyes and shifted her weight unsteadily and whispered, "Lizzy, I don't feel to well."

"Jane? Jane?" She wasn't responding. She shouldn't have stood up. I screamed, "Charlie! Charlie! Come help me! It's Jane! Help!" Charlie, Rich, and Mr. Darcy came running into the room. Charlie was breathless.

"What happened? What is wrong?" He looked over at my sister's pale and icy face and ran to her. He pulled her into his arms and yelled, "Jane! Jane, look at me!" Her eyes fluttered as she tried to look into his eyes. "Hello, Charles..."

"Hello Jane..."

"Charles, I don't feel..." She began to lean backwards; he rushed to make sure she did not hit the floor.

"Jane!"

She was out cold.

"Will she be all right?"

"I think so. I think she is just tired. Let her rest." Charlie looked distressed.

"We were suppose to go to a relatives tonight. I should just probably take her home." Charlie practically leapt out at me in disagreement.

"No! I mean, no, why doesn't she just stay here?" I looked at her.

"Fine. I guess that is for the best. I will go then, I don't want to impose on you any more. I'll pick her up tomorrow. Thanks, Charlie."

"Lizzy, you can't go home, either! I am sure you will want to stay with Jane and I am sure she would like your company..."

"Plus," I heard Rich say, "It's snowing like crazy outside. We wouldn't want you to get into an accident in this weather."

I looked out of the window. The snow had not stopped; in fact, it had started snowing heavier. Snow. Snow. Snow. No. No. No. I looked at Charlie, Rich, and Mr. Darcy. Charlie was tending my sister. Rich looked like he wanted me to stay. Mr. Darcy was just aloof and silent. What to do? I can't stay here? Can I? But, I don't want to get stuck in the snow either...The Phillips were suppose to meet us tonight and mother is waiting for us. If I did stay here, Jane would be under my care and Charlie's. I would not risk getting stuck in the snow, but I would be stuck with the detestable Mr. Darcy and the lovely Carina... Jane would be better off here. I should not risk driving in the blizzard. I hate being cornered, but I guess it couldn't hurt...

"Thank you, Charlie! You are too kind!"

"Great! You can have the room next to your sister and Carina can lend you something to wear."

"Actually Charlie, we were going to a family event out of town tonight so we do have some things with us. Listen, I have to call my mother and tell her we will not be going tonight."

"Of course. Why don't you use the phone in that room." I picked up the phone and called my mother.

"Lizzy! Where are you darling?" I explained the whole situation to her, and she was delighted. I turned red as a beet when my mother's loud voice projected, "Of course, you must stay!"

I had to stay and deal with it.

I did not know when the snow would let up. The whole group gathered in front of the television to hear the latest weather report. The news was not good. Possibly three whole days of snow. Three. I sat down in resignation and felt like screaming.

Chapter 18: Observations

Posted on Thursday, 8 March 2001

As the sun descended from the sky, white flakes continued to fall and accumulate into a gigantic mountain of ice on the ground, barring me in, hindering any idea of escape. My eyes longingly looked out of the window, and I pressed my forehead against the cold glass, cooling my warm skin. Jane slept undisturbed under a mountain of blankets in the room next to mine. Sometimes, I would get up and check on her, but I found that I really did not need to worry.

Charlie remained in the room, silently watching over my sister. He never left her side, and when I would enter, he hardly knew I was in the room. My sister captured his attention no matter how she looked or felt.

I, on the other hand, with that self-pitying loveless feeling crawling in at this adorable sight, rarely left my room after the weather report decided my fate for the next few days. I tried to relax and sleep, but failed in my attempt. So, I decided to join the others. Though I would prefer to avoid Mr. Darcy or Carina, I thought of Rich and continued down the stairs, hoping I would find some pleasant company. I climbed down, uncertain of where I was headed. But, the sound of Carina's voice begging Mr. Darcy to pay attention to her led me to them.

I almost feel sorry for the man. Almost.

They were in the library. Carina was lounging on the sofa reading a book and Mr. Darcy looked outside with ennui written clearly on his features. Rich was not among them.

"Look who has decided to join us, Mr. Darcy!"

"Good evening, Miss Bennett."

"Hello Mr. Darcy, Carina. How are both of you doing?" Both mumbled a reply and returned to their previous occupations. The silence was disturbing.

"Carina, I would just like to thank you for your hospitality."

"It is no problem at all, Eliza." She abruptly turned away and focused on her book. I observed her a little more and looked at the book she was engrossed in. I did not think of her as the type to read Paradise Lost.... upside down.

"'The mind is its own place, and in itself can make a Heaven of Hell, a Hell of Heaven.' Milton is an excellent writer, don't you think so, Carina?" Carina looked up from her book, and Mr. Darcy left his window towards our direction, intrigued.

"What are you talking about?"

"The book you are reading."

"Uh...yes. She is ...excellent." Mr. Darcy smirked. Carina, then closed the book, glared at me, and left the room.

"Miss Bennett, I did not know you had an interest for Milton?"

So the man does speak.

"I suppose what people don't know usually surprises them. I have an great interest in many things, Mr. Darcy."

"Well, what about me?"

I laughed.

"Hello, Rich."

"Well?"

"Well, I have to think about it...but I suppose I can consider," I looked him up and down, "even you."

"I consider myself lucky to even be considered by a gracious woman like you." He grinned as his cousin rolled his brown eyes.

"Rich, whatever happened to the conventional hello?"

"Oh pardon me, hello, Lizzy." I smiled.

"You're such a silly boy, Rich." Charlie then entered the room, haggard and tired, slowly walked over to the couch, and slumped into it.

"Hello, Charlie. You've been up there for hours. You must be starving. Why don't we go get you something to eat."

He just looked at me and sighed.

"I'm sure Jane will be fine. It's just the flu. You have to take care of yourself, and you know Jane will hate it if you get sick as well."

"Okay." He did not move. Rich and Mr. Darcy decided to help him out.

"She's right Charlie," Rich said helping his friend. "Let's go get a bite to eat in the kitchen. Man, you need your rest; you look like you've been to hell and back."

"Or basically like a man worried over the woman he is head over heels in love with," Mr. Darcy whispered.

I smiled.

I was going to follow them to the kitchen, but I noticed a few pieces of paper on the floor and I picked them up. I read the white sheets and recognized the words.

They say that Hope is happiness-
But genuine Love must prize the past;
And Mem'ry wakes the thoughts that bless:
They rose the first-they set the last

And all that mem'ry loves the most
Was once our only hope to be
And all that hope adored and lost
Hath melted into memory.

Alas! It is delusion all-
The future cheats us from afar:
Nor can we be what we recall,
Nor dare we think on what we are.*

My dear Love, I cannot live in a world of memories. I will hold on to hope, no matter what they say. I know we can over come this. Please say you have not given up. I am forever yours.

I picked up the other page, intrigued by the passion of the author's words and curious about the person it was intended for.

How can you expect me to do this? I thought you would think differently. I had always admired you for your individuality but where has it gone? What have they done to you? I know you still exist somewhere, somewhere behind that mask you are wearing. You are the one person I am in love with, you always will be. Yet, if you wish it, I must follow what you desire. I cannot deny any wish of yours so I will go - not because anyone but you demands it. You are the only one I am concerned with, and I do not want to cause you further grieve. I leave you with these thoughts:

I cannot live with You-
It would be Life-
And Life is over there-
Behind the Shelf

The Sexton keeps the Key to-
Putting up
Our Life-His Porcelain
Like a Cup-

Discarded of the Housewife
Quaint-or Broke
A newer Sevres pleases-
Old Ones crack-

I could not die-with You-
For One must wait
To shut the Other's Gaze down-
You-could not

And I-Could I stand by
And see You-freeze
Without my Right of Frost-
Death's privilege

Nor could I rise-with You-
Because Your Face
Would put out Jesus'-
That New Grace

Glow plain-and foreign
On my homesick Eye-
Except that You than He
Shone closer by-

They'd judge Us-How-
For You-served Heave-You know,
Or sought to-
I could not

Because You saturated Sight-
And I had no more Eyes
For sordid excellence
As Paradise

And were You lost, I would be-
Though My Name
Rang loudest
On the Heavenly Fame-

And were You-saved-
And I-condemned to be
Where You were not-
That self-were Hell to Me-

So We must meet apart-
You there-I-here-
With just the Door ajar
That Oceans are-and Prayer-
And that White sustenance
Despair**

That is all I have left. Life without you will be despair. You have given me "Permission to recant/ Permission to forget," but I will not. You have asked me to endure a life without you, but I will hold on to my dreams, our dreams. I will not forget you nor will I ever recant any of the words I have spoken. I love you and I always will.

I felt like an intruder. As I placed the papers down on the table, Carina came into the room frantically. She tried to find Paradise Lost again.

"Where is it? What did I do with them?"

"What are you looking for?" She looked up and noticed my presence and pushed her hair away from her face. Then, she saw the papers and rushed towards them. She seized them like a hawk grabbing her prey.

"What were you doing with them? Where did you get them?"

"They were on the floor."

"I'm sure you enjoyed reading them," she said bitterly.

"I didn't know..."

"You have no right. You and your sister do not belong here. You, with your coarse family. I saw your youngest sister's behavior. And you with your prying, meddling..."

"What is going on in here?" It was Charlie and Rich.

"Nothing. Eliza and I were having just having a friendly chat."

"It didn't sound like one," Rich muttered.

"Whatever. I don't need to deal with this." She grabbed her papers and left.

"Don't worry about her," Rich said, "She's always been like that."

"You and your cousin put up with her well."

"Well, we don't quite enjoy it... Will, especially, poor guy," he whispered. "Anyway what were you two bickering about?"

"Nothing really." He did not believe me and I can't blame him for his doubt, but no matter how Carina treated me, she still deserved her own privacy.

"So, anyway, where did you disappear to earlier?"

"I went down to the Academy."

"In Annapolis? You drove in all the snow?"

"Yes. I had to finish some business despite the weather, but hey it's a great-looking town in the snow."

"Which town?" Mr. Darcy walked into the room.

"Will! You got to know the place I am talking about! We spent so much time down there..."

"Annapolis?"

"So many memories down in that city, Will..."

"Yeah, you're right. It is wonderful."

Both of them were immersed in a wistful cloud and I felt left out so I added, "I love that place. I spent a little time down there too, a while ago."

"Really? Well then let me test you two...where do you guys think is the best place to grab a bite to eat down there?" Rich questioned.

"The Marketplace."

"The Marketplace."

I looked at Mr. Darcy in surprise and he smiled.

---