It Started With A Very Happy Day

1

A Very Happy Day

“`It is a truth universally acknowledge that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.'” Kitty Bennet raised a doubtful eyebrow at the book in her hands as she read aloud. “`However little known the feelings or views of such a man may be on his first entering a neighborhood, this truth is so well fixed in the minds of the surrounding families that he is considered as the rightful property of some one or other of their daughters.'” The girl wrinkled her nose. “I have to say, I'm impressed. Out of all the shitty gifts you have ever given me on my birthday, this takes the cake.”

“I'm not surprised. It is a crappy excuse of a book.” Elizabeth, a sister, stretched out lazily on the apartment couch, propping her head up with her elbow. “Jane said it was about some girl who hated this rich guy, and then through a series of events, eventually falls in love with him. Doesn't it just scream cliché shit?” Kitty nodded solemnly as she continued to read silently from the offending book. “Jane also said something about the names of the characters in the book, and then smiled in her `I-know-a-hilarious-secret-that's-actually-not-that-funny-once-you-know-about-it' smile. It sort of creeped me out, I'll admit. D'you think Jane is turning into an evil Warlord…or, uh, Warlordess?”

“Bye the way, where is Jane?” asked Kitty, though absentmindedly, on account she was still reading from the book. Elizabeth, bemused, began to wonder how long would it be before Kitty started gushing and squealing on how noble and handsome the hero was, and how beautiful-spirited and independent the heroine is, and how absolutely perfect they were for each other.

“Jodie called and said that she wanted Jane to work extra hours at the clinic. She's such a bitch—she knew we had plans this evening, and during her call, she didn't even let Jane get a word in edgewise. I tried to tell Jane to just not go, but she wouldn't listen. She said that if her boss wanted her to come in and work, she had an obligation to do just that. Don't be angry with her, Kits. She's fishing for that promotion, and is really determined to get it.”

This time Kitty didn't even answer; she had furrowed her brow in concentration, and was reading intently from the book. Smiling mischievously, Lizzy tore a piece of wrapping paper into a little ball, and threw it at her sister. Kitty didn't even flinch. Sighing, Elizabeth was about to throw more wrapping paper when her sister exclaimed, “God! He is such a jerk.”

“Who, Kitty?” Elizabeth tried very hard not to laugh, but failed. However, her sister was so indignant she didn't notice.

“The asshole Mr. Darcy in this book, that's who! The heroine was at this ball, `kay, and he and his friend was standing near her—within earshot. The friend was trying to get him to dance, and recommended the heroine, and this is what he said back—`She is tolerable, but handsome enough to temp me; and I am in no humor to give consequence to ladies that are slighted by other men. You had better return to your partner and enjoy her smiles, for you are wasting your time with me.' Seriously, he is such a jerk!”

Lizzy swallowed a giggled, and said, in a rather forced normal voice, “I take it you don't like the book that much?”

It did the trick. The book was no more hovering around Kitty's face, much in her lap, and she was staring at her sister in a mixture of shock and offense. “Why would you not like this book? It's totally friggin' awesome. And if you insult it in any which way again, I'll personally cut of your hand and feed it to my pet lions. So there.” Elizabeth smirked. “By the way, Lizzy, can I throw a party tomorrow while you and Jane are out?”

“Hmmmm,” Elizabeth said, pretending to think hard, “Let's see…well, how about no.”

Kitty laughed at her expression, but tried a different tactic. “Jeez, sorry! I didn't know I was forbidden to throw myself a birthday party!”

Sitting up, her sister sighed, a long, exasperated sigh, and Kitty knew there wasn't a chance in hell she would actually pull off to get Elizabeth's permission. Slowly, enunciating every word as if she were speaking to a child, Elizabeth said, “Kitty, you know very damn well I don't want the apartment decorated with stray Doritos bags on the floor and throw up in the carpet. Nor do I want to explain to the landlady exactly why the apartment house is on fire while she's in LA. Anyways, the apartment is way too small for one of your parties,” a beat, “Oh, and also I'm antisocial.”

Kitty rolled her eyes and grinned. “You just figured that out, huh?” Her grin gradually faded as she noticed how positively evil the look that Elizabeth was giving was; her sister's eyes were narrowed dangerously, a mischievous smirk played on her lips. Widening her eyes, Kitty sprang up, out of the armchair and bounded behind it. From behind the armchair, Kitty waiting anxiously for her doom, but only heard the boisterous laughter of her sister. Standing up cautiously, Kitty looked warily around the room. Elizabeth was nowhere to been seen. However, the laughter continued. A-HA! Kitty, whirled around on her hell to see Elizabeth, who was at the moment laughing like she'd seen the funniest thing ever. Narrowing her eyes, Kitty said, irate, “It's not that funny.”

“You—should've—seen your—your face!” Kitty crossed her arms over her chest, glaring at her sister until she stopped laughing. After a few seconds, the mirth faded away, and the giggles came less and less. Kitty repeated her sentiment, but Elizabeth dismissed it immediately. “It was that that funny. You looked like a deer in headlights…that, or that you crapped in your pants.”

If one grew up in a Bennet household, there was a set of unwritten laws that are to be followed every Monday morning, whether they wanted to or not, for most of them are just natural Bennet instinct. The list is as follows:

Wake up (this may need two or more alarm clocks)

Get dressed (this may consume to five to twenty minutes of your time depending on who you were or who thought you should look nicer)

Eat breakfast (which is a strainful affair in itself with five daughters at the same table)

Scream at a family member (minimum 2)

And then, these things set aside, you were supposed to go out into the public with a smile on your face and to pretend you didn't stayed up `till 4 last night or you don't have that massive hangover from that `sip or two' of wine. Suffice to say, Elizabeth hated Mondays. And soon that hatred of getting up every morning to do increasingly boring work at her supposedly `dream' publishing job overwhelmed Elizabeth, and she quit, setting herself free. With her dream of being an editor, and a possible author, smashed into millions of pieces, Elizabeth fell back onto what she loved. Though the second choice, owning her own bakery had been a rather refreshing occupation, and the sort of odd characters that came and went through her shop had always amused her, and all the while she was doing a hobby for a living, so how better could it get?

To her credit, Elizabeth baked well, and she had many regulars that just wanted a quick cup of coffee and a muffin before they set off to work, and then there was always the odd college student who dropped in and sampled the goods, then told there friends about how awesome the food was at the bakery down the street. And so Elizabeth was successful, and to her relief, Kitty helped out during the summer if the demand became a bit overwhelming for one person. But, despite all of her satisfaction with her job and success, all of it came crashing down in the dirt whenever life played a little, bitter trick called Monday morning.

Yawning violently, Elizabeth blinked and squinted at the road in front of her as she drove to her shop. Muttering obscenities under her breath, she glared at the other early morning Boston drivers, then stared at the red stop light, wondering if she was actually in her right mind by getting up so early to only serve coffee to old boring coots trapped in dreary jobs like accounting or computer programming or banking. Shaking her head again to stay awake, she glanced at Kitty, who was snuggled comfortably in the passenger seat, her eyes barely open. She was probably sleeping. Lucky duck!

Soon the car turned into the familiar alley that led to the back of the building. Elizabeth parked locked the car, simultaneously shaking her drowsy sister awake. “Work.” She stated rather blandly, and Kitty grimaced, but opened her eyes. And thus the sister set on to the familiar patterns of the workday, baking, mixing, and yawning. Soon enough, Mrs. Long, the department store manager from across the street, cam bustling in for her daily cup of coffee and chocolate muffin.

Mrs. Long was the type of woman who had an impenetrable urge to know anything and everything about anyone and everyone in Boston. She feeded on gossip, and if a celebrity moved their pinky finger, Mrs. Long would know about it not three minutes later. And today, Mrs. Long had news to tell.

“Have you heard?” But before Elizabeth could utter anything at all, she proceed, “William Darcy has bought a penthouse, here in Boston. I can't imagine why, he's always down south anyway, and then if he's not, he resides in LA. Though I have heard his sister, Georgiana, is going to BU this year—just like your sister Lydia, hmm?”

“Yes,” said Elizabeth, taking a batch of cooks from Kitty, and progressed to put them in the glass casing under the counter. “Lydia is going to BU this year.”

Mrs. Long gave her a withering look. “You don't see the point, Lizzy dear. What do you have to say on William Darcy?”

Elizabeth sighed to herself, but smiled pleasantly at the woman. “He's the guy that owns…like everything there is to own. I'm not even sure what his profession is—I get a headache if I read articles about him. And,” she raised her voice only a fraction, “he is pretty filthy rich and the rich, in my opinion, are gussied-up snobs.”

Mrs. Long sniffed. “You know, Lizzy-girl, if you keep that attitude you'll never marry. You'll be like the Charlotte Lucas—the one who works at the Starbucks in the store.”

“Mrs. Long, may I remind you Charlotte has a boyfriend, and that I do not?” Elizabeth pointed out, hiding her smile. Many times Elizabeth had tried to figure out why exactly Mrs. Long hated Charlotte. She just always seemed to look upon her as something that the cat dragged in.

“Ah, m'dear, but you are much more pretty and smart; more deserving than,” the woman grimaced, disgusted, “Charlotte Lucas! So plain and boring!”

“She has a sense of humor.” Elizabeth defended her friend.

“Shush, girl!” After a few more minutes of banter, where Elizabeth acquired the knowledge Will Darcy was actually a lawyer, Mrs. Long left for her shift. A lawyer, huh? Thought he have a much more elaborate profession; he's so popular with the media. Two hours later, Jane called.

“Lizzy? I called to conform our plans for tonight,” came the soft, gentle tone that Jane always used, “We're going out with Charlie and his friend. You get to meet both Charlie and Will.”

“Whoop-dee-doo.” Elizabeth said sarcastically. Charlie was a rich owner of some hotel chain, Netherfield, and Elizabeth had seen his picture many times in magazines like People or US Weekly. Unlike William Darcy's, the articles about Charles Bingley were not so headache inducing. With all her, well, less than satisfactory experiences with the rich, Elizabeth was a bit prejudiced.

“Lizzy—“ Jane warned, but then Elizabeth cut her off.

“I know, I know, Jane. Don't explode into a raging fit of Lizzy-ness, and don't openly insult people before I get to know them. But it so hard,” said Elizabeth, silently laughing, “They all act like conceited jerks I have to insult them.”

“Charlie's not like that. He is all that is good and kind. I think you would like him, Lizzy.” Jane's voice was a touch pleading, an Elizabeth immediately soften with the suspicion she might've hurt Jane's feelings.

“I have no doubt of that, Jane.” She said, although not quite sincere. That tiny voice in the back of her head kept persistently saying that all the rich were just like Danny. Shaking the unwanted thoughts away, Elizabeth chatted with Jane for another minute or so, agreeing that Kitty and her would pick Jane up at the clinic on their way home.

The phone had not been in its cradle for three seconds before a certain sister popped up beside Elizabeth. “Who was that?” Kitty smiled `innocently' at her sister.

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow, and replied, rather cautiously, “It was Jane, confirming our plans to go out with Charlie and his friend.” She looked at her sister warily, in much the same way Kitty did the evening before.

“Lizzy's got a boyfriend,” trilled Kitty in a sing-song voice, “And it's not even eleven o' clock!” She grinned cheekily.

Despite her initial reaction to groan at Kitty's antics, Elizabeth laughed. Shaking her head, Elizabeth went into the back were the oven was; they hadn't had a customer in over a half hour, for this was a particularly slow time for the bakery. Elizabeth reasoned she had much better spend her time baking than staring out the window. Kitty soon followed. They started to make a new batch chocolate chip brownies, and began mixing in ingredients. Elizabeth had just put them into the oven when she heard a distinct male voice from the front of the store.

“What kind of business doesn't have people at the counter? Really, Georgi, they are probably just a bunch of starving high school drop outs that hardly know to turn on an oven. They aren't professional, we'd better go back to that other place and just order a custom cake.”

Bristling, Elizabeth marched from out of the back and was about to tell this guy exactly what she thought of him, but she stopped when she saw him. Good-looking didn't cover it, handsome seemed lacking, but this guy was bloody gorgeous. Hell, he resembled Colin Firth—how better could it get? Dark, brooding eyes, and luscious dark curls, Elizabeth could've swooned if she was the swooning type. But, a sharp reality shattered any hopes of romance, he thinks you're high school drop out. Why is it always the good-looking ones hate her, are as smart as the nail on her bedroom wall, or gay?

“How may I help you?” Elizabeth asked, her tone rather sharp and stinging. There was a girl, apparently `Georgi', that she hadn't noticed before. She was short, even for a girl, and had big, dark eyes like the man beside her. Her hair, however, was straight and golden-colored, and right now, the girl looked as if Elizabeth was about to murder her. Softening a bit, Elizabeth smiled at her. Even if the guy's a bastard it's not nice to think the girl's a bitch, too. Elizabeth told herself.

“Uh, hi.” The girl said a bit shakily, “Uh, we would like to order a custom made cake. Uh, I guess fourteen inch yellow cake…white frosting and those blue roses?” Elizabeth nodded at correct intervals, smiling a bit, but her smile vanished when her companion caught her eye. She glared at him, but told Georgi the bill. “Will, that's you department.”

`Will' wrote out a check and handed it Elizabeth, who studied it for a moment. 36.99 to Muffins And Such…William Darcy. Wait! Elizabeth's eyes widened considerably as she saw the name. William Darcy is buying a cake from my shop? Figures he'd be an arrogant jerk…I was always right about the rich. “You're William Darcy?” She asked, a bit dumbfounded.

His face hardened, and he stared at her warily. “Yes,” he said flatly.

Elizabeth raised her head to meet his gaze, and smiling a sardonic smile, she said, “You're cake will be ready in three days, but you can pick it up whenever you like.” He raised an eyebrow at her, as if expecting her to say something more. Sorry buddy, this girl won't fawn over you like you're the greatest thing since Bridget Jones's Diary “Is there anything else I can help you with?”

Georgi opened her mouth to say something, but Darcy quickly cut her off with a quick “No.” And so the two left the shop to a smirking Elizabeth. “Will, I can't believe you said that!” Georgi exclaimed as they left. Elizabeth watched them leave. I have to tell Jane about this.

“Gosh, Lizzy. I don't believe it. How could anyone say something so nasty about someone before even meeting them?” Jane commented as Elizabeth retold her tale as they pulled into the parking lot of the bar they were meeting Charlie and his friend at.

“Well, he did.” Elizabeth said simply, smirking. She got out of the car and started walking through the doorway. She continued, “Well, he wrote a check for the cake.”

“Look, there's Charlie!” Jane pointed, and Elizabeth followed her finger to a friendly looking guy with curly, blonde hair, and a wide smile. He stood next a tall, dark-haired boy. Elizabeth followed Jane as she walked toward him.

“Well, I saw the name on the check,” said Elizabeth as they drew near, “And guess whose names was on the check?” The sisters stopped in front of the two guys.

“Who?” Jane whispered out of the corner of her mouth.

“Hello Jane,” Charlie smiled, and turned to Elizabeth, “And you must be Elizabeth?” She nodded her confirmation. “This is my friend…” and the dark-haired man turned around. Elizabeth gasped. “…William Darcy.” It was him, the same, dark-haired, brooding-eyed jerk from the bakery! His dark eyes widened in recognition, and Elizabeth just stared at him as if her had three heads.

Oh fucking happy day.

000

2

A Robot Walked Me Home

Darcy was the first to recover, back straightening, expression hardening, and if Elizabeth had not quite believed before that he had a stick up his butt, she sure did now. “Hello Miss Bennet.” He acknowledged her stiffly. Oh, is it Miss Bennet now? Too bad, I missed being a high school drop out.

Resisting the urge to curtsey—That's too lame, even for you, Elizabeth chided herself, she smiled, if not a bit insincerely, and greeted him in much the same manner a he did—brief and cold, “Mr. Darcy.” Though her current feelings toward the man, Elizabeth couldn't help but swallow a giggle. Miss Bennet and Mr. Darcy…It's like we're in the book we got Kitty for her birthday. Next thing I'll know I'll be having teatime with my customers, and I'll be wearing one of those dresses that are so white and frilly…

Charlie, though unaware of the history between the two, was very aware of the sort of cold hostility that they each held the other in. Fumbling with embarrassment, he proposed they could seated at one of the tables. Elizabeth broke her glare from him, and turned her head to smile at Charlie, her expression warm and encouraging. And poor Charlie, the ever-awkward adorable schoolboy, was very confused as to why his girlfriend's sister was so welcoming towards one human being and then blistering icy to another. After they ordered their drinks, which was an episode in itself—“You actually don't have apple juice here? What, no four year olds roaming around here often?” And a mischievous smile at Jane—another awkward silence fell over the table.

“So,” Charlie began, addressing Elizabeth, “Jane tells me you like to bake?”

Immediately Elizabeth's defenses were up, but she arched an eyebrow in bemusement. “Yeah, I guess I like to bake, seeing as I own my own bakery.” She said dryly. Charlie inquired how she came into the business, and Elizabeth anger flared, if only a bit, and she had to keep telling herself this was just a honest, curious question from Jane's adorable boyfriend. “Well, I graduated from college with a degree in English Lit,” she glanced at Darcy, who, sadly, was impassive, “And I soon got a job in publishing. After about a year, I decided that I would never write or edit the Great American Novel, so I quit, and faced with a hunk of cash that I literally did not realize was there before—I save my money you see—I bought my shop on -- Street. And I've been making muffins ever since.”

“And she can now tell funny stories about all the characters that come to her shop,” Jane put in innocently, “She was just telling me a story about this guy who came into her shop today—why don't you tell it to Charlie and Will, Lizzy?” She turned and looked at her sister expectantly.

Elizabeth had opened and closed her mouth several times, with at least two glances at Darcy—who was still impassive—before replying with a small laugh, “Oh, no Jane. Charlie wouldn't want to hear that.” She was telling the truth. Elizabeth doubted Charlie would like to hear that his best buddy is an arrogant ass.

“Why don't you tell them Lizzy?” Jane insisted, not fully aware of how uncomfortable her sister was.

“No, Jane,” Elizabeth empathized, her tone not sharp, but stern. Still, Jane was still a bit startled that her sister was using such a tone with her. Elizabeth glanced around the table, noting that Charlie was also taken aback, while Darcy still had absolutely no expression. He is a robot. A friggin' robot sent out to insult the human race and say they are so inferior `cause they don't have the latest weapons to destroy planets or whatever. Swallowing guiltily, Elizabeth explained, a bit too hastily to be normal, “I do not think that particular story is fit for present company.” Again, Elizabeth congratulated herself on how gracefully she put it, and it was the truth. Similarly, Elizabeth cursed herself again and again for sounding like a scared little girl that had just stole the cookies from the jar.

“Do you, then, always plan out particular topics that are suitable for particular company?” Elizabeth was at first slightly surprised, for she had actually started to believe he actually was a robot, and his soundcard was disconnected.

Turning her head to smile at him sardonically, she replied without batting an eye, “Yes, it is part of good breeding. I mean, would you talk to you father about how hard it is to find your bra size at the stores now?” A sort of tense silence was followed by her comment, until he replied--

“I believe my father would've been a bit disturbed if I had that discussion with him.” Despite herself, Elizabeth smiled a genuine smile at Darcy—the dryness of the statement was hilarious, after all. And she nodded at him, accepting his point. The corner of Darcy's mouth quirked in a somewhat upward direction, and Elizabeth arched an eyebrow. Have we a semblance of a smile? My, my, trudging right into the lion's mouth, aren't we, Darcy? Glancing at him bemusedly, Elizabeth opened her mouth to ask Charlie something when—

“Charles!” Elizabeth started at the screech that originated behind her—the front of the pub. What kind of person screams in public places? Elizabeth was about to resume her question but stopped when she saw Charlie's expression. It was so different than all the ones before, the ones that were light, cheery, and good-humored. This one was just pure, pale fury. He glared…not at Elizabeth, no, but beyond Elizabeth. Thoroughly puzzled, Elizabeth was about to look behind her when… “Hello Charles! I was just in town, so I decided to drop in on your little party.” Elizabeth looked up to observe exactly who of Charlie's acquaintance screamed in public places. And for the second time that evening, Elizabeth gasped.

“It's Sharpay Evans!” She exclaimed, though only audible enough for herself to hear. However, Elizabeth heard a definite snort-like sound come from Darcy's direction. Damn. He heard too. Elizabeth gave him her `speak and you die' glare, and fortunately, he didn't say anything. However harsh Elizabeth pronouncement may seem, the girl really did resemble that character in Lydia's movie, her hair a golden curtain held in place with a silver—were those rhinestones?—head band. Note to Self: Next time Lydia suggest watching a Disney Channel movie, RUN! She had bright green eyes that sparkled a bit too brightly, and Elizabeth declared them colored contacts. Smiling, the girl also had unnaturally white teeth. The girl had on a very expensive-looking dress that was as ridiculous looking expensive. It was a silver-color, with spaghetti straps a rather bold neckline, and it hung approximately seven inches above the knees. And all over it, shining brightly in the dim light, were dozens upon dozens of what look too expensive to be rhinestones or sequins. And she held a matching purse. Unbelievable. In a unnatural way, the girl could have been dubbed pretty, and knowing how stupid the human race could be at times, Elizabeth guessed the girl could even win a beauty contest if she played her cars right. And when she makes her acceptance speech, she will smile and blind the whole audience…

“Caroline,” Charlie's tone was sharp, “I told you it was just me, Will and Jane and her sister tonight. Why did you come?”

Caroline's smile suited her; it was overbearing, too wide, overly done so it would look real, while in truth it was the most fake excuse Elizabeth had ever seen for a smile. “I told you, Charles,” she said, eyeing Elizabeth warily as if she would bite if Caroline trod too close, “I wanted to feet the infamous Elizabeth Bennet.” Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. Nice try, hun. By the way I see your eyeing the Robot yonder I guess you came just to sample the man meat. Caroline plopped down into the space beside Darcy, still smiling widely Elizabeth made a mental list of possible ways to get your face to stay in the same expression.

“Lizzy—I can call you that, right?” Elizabeth nodded, and Charlie continued, mumbling, his voice barely audible, “This is my sister, Caroline. Caroline, this is Elizabeth Bennet…Lizzy.”

“Hello, Eliza.” Caroline acknowledged her, and Elizabeth smiled and nodded. Eliza? Um, wasn't I introduced as Elizabeth—and my nickname is Lizzy! Sure, I wouldn't want her calling me Lizzy, anyway, but still! Eliza is a disgrace to all the numerous variations of Elizabeth. “So, what were you talking about. I have a opinion on every subject, you know,” Caroline said to Elizabeth as she snuggled up to Darcy. He flinched, and Elizabeth had to swallow a smile.

“We're talking about Elizabeth's job.” Charlie informed his sister.

“I bake.” Elizabeth offered, unwilling to elaborate. A discreet Jane elbowed her sister in the ribs.

Caroline's eyes widened in pity, and Elizabeth resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “Aw, you poor thing! Do you have a have a hard time getting by?” Elizabeth's anger flared, but before she could convince Caroline the answer was a most definite no, she continued, “You must not even be able to afford coffee in the morning. Poor thing! I can't even function without coffee! Here,” Caroline's smile was sympathetic as she dug out a five dollar bill from her purse. She slid it across the table `discreetly', meaning, everyone at the table watched in horror as she slid it near Elizabeth. “Enjoy.”

Elizabeth stared at the bill for what seemed like a lifetime, completely in shock. The nerve of that…that--! Then her eyes flashed up to meet Caroline's. Elizabeth's eyes were wide, almost completely black in rage. She stood up and grabbed her present, staring at Caroline with that ever-present glare of death. She looked at Jane, and despite her fondness for her sister, her tone was cool with irritation. “Have a good time, Jane.” With one last angry quirk of her eyebrow, Elizabeth left the table, weaving through the crowd to the front door, a storm raging inside of her head.

“Well,” Caroline whispered to Darcy, affronted, “There was no need for her to get huffy. I was just being generous. So proud and conceited!” Darcy glanced at Caroline, and wordlessly got up of his seat and began to go after Elizabeth.

Meanwhile, Elizabeth was outside, bidding the cool temperature would dampen her temper. It didn't. Driving wouldn't do—Jane would have no car, and besides, driving was still sitting in one spot. Elizabeth needed to move. It was four or five miles to her apartment. Elizabeth only hesitated for a moment, and then started walking briskly in the direction of her apartment. Her though process was a bit irrational at the moment, and so she thought, I'm so fucking angry I'll walk to and my apartment and around it fifteen gazillion times before cooling off. And so she walked off, no clear or logical thoughts inside her head besides Caroline Bingley is a bitch.

“Elizabeth…Elizabeth!” A deep voice called. Elizabeth could not recognize the voice at first. The next thing she knew a strong hand was grabbing her forearm, holding her back. She whirled around, eyes flashing. It was Darcy.

“What?” She spat. Darcy seemed a bit taken a back by her expression, and she stared up at him impatiently, aching to be on the move again.

“I wanted to apologize for Caroline's behavior…” He began awkwardly, releasing her with a blush that Elizabeth didn't notice in the dark. She stared at him as if he had three eyes.

“Try apologizing for your own actions towards me and not someone else's.” She threw angrily at him, and turned around to continue her walk, but once again she was held back by his hold. “What is it now?” Elizabeth exclaimed, exasperated.

“It's not safe for you to walk alone.” Elizabeth gave him her `and…?' look. “Someone could attack you.” He elaborated. She rolled her yes. “May I walk you home?”

“It's five miles.” She informed him, and turned on her heel, walking quickly away, not caring whether he followed her or not. But soon enough, Elizabeth saw Darcy's profile out of the corner of her eye. Conversation during the entire walk was nonexistent, Elizabeth still silently fuming, and later Elizabeth would wonder why exactly Darcy would want to walk with a girl who's only communication towards him would be an occasional glare. However, Elizabeth did not notice the frequent glances Darcy directed toward her way.

Amazingly, they reached her apartment with Elizabeth only a little weary from the walk. She opened the apartment house door, but remembered Darcy. Turning around she looked at him, and nodded, then went inside. She pondered a moment whether to take the stairs or elevator, and again, didn't hesitate to choose the elevator, jabbing at her floor. Elizabeth was blinded by anger anymore, no, now she was just blinded by the overbearing ache that engulfed her being. No more walking for five miles when someone pisses you off. She got off the elevator and dragged herself to the apartment door. Oh shit. Jane has the key. She knocked on the door, praying Kitty hadn't ditched her house-sitting orders and went out. “It's open!” Came her little sister's voice. And with that Elizabeth pushed on the door and collapsed into the nearest couch.

“Bad night?” Came the sardonic question.

“Oh, I don't know,” replied Elizabeth, “Sharpay Evans insulted me and a Robot walked me home.” And she smiled at the ceiling.

Kitty sighed. Her sister was most definitely going crazy.

0000

3

Your Sweater Is Inside Out

Elizabeth looked up when the bakery's door `bell' announced the arrival of a customer. A familiar blonde girl walked in, and Elizabeth's mind immediately searched the files of her memory. She looked so familiar…but what was her name? Oh! She was the girl that came in with Darcy…

“Georgi, isn't it?” The blonde girl's head swerved in Elizabeth's direction, looking like a dear caught in headlights. Slowly she nodded. “William Darcy's your brother, right?” Elizabeth asked. The girl looked way too young to be any sort of girlfriend for Darcy, but then again, you never know. Robot Darcy might be a cradle snatcher. Georgi bobbed her head again, all the while eyeing Elizabeth as if she were to bite her if she came too close. Elizabeth chuckled. Is it just me or am I giving that impression a lot more than I used to? “No offense,” Elizabeth remarked, laughingly, “I think your social skills are more pitiful than your brother's. He, at least, uses impassive monosyllabic answers. But I guess your scared stares make up for it.”

And to Elizabeth's complete surprise, Georgi laughed. It wasn't the high-pitied, bubbly laugh one would might expect from such a petite, fairy-looking girl, but instead, it was low, melodious, and sparkling. “I'm sorry. I guess I do look scared all the time. I think its mostly because I'm so surprised someone would actually bother talking to me, I don't know what I would say.”

Elizabeth's brow furrow a bit at this, wondering exactly what Georgi meant. But Elizabeth did not ask her to elaborate, for fear that cheerful expressions on Georgi's face would vanished completely if she explained. “Is there anything I can get you?”

“Oh! Um…A blueberry muffin?” Elizabeth handed one out to Georgi, and when she made to pay, Elizabeth shook her head.

“No, you don't need to pay. Special privileges for friends and family.” Georgi looked confused for a moment, but encouraged by Elizabeth's warm smile, she smiled too.

“Miss Bennet…” Georgi began, looking shyly down at her muffin.

“You can call me Lizzy.” Elizabeth insisted.

Yes…Lizzy.” Georgi's eyes were glued to the muffin. She tore a little piece out of it, put and in her mouth slowly. She chewed for a moment, swallowed. “Well…” There was another silence, and Elizabeth waited patiently for Georgi to speak again. However, as the silence drew on, Elizabeth couldn't help but wonder if she was ever going to speak up. The awkward silence will ill me before she has time to say anything at all. It was so suddenly Georgi's piercing dark eyes met Elizabeth's that the latter almost started. Georgi's offer came out fast and direct, “I was wondering if you would like to accompany me and some others to the movies.”

Is that all? Jeez, you'd think the world would explode if I didn't accept with all the anxiousness she's looking at me now. Elizabeth smiled, and laughingly replied, “Of course I'll go, Georgi. When were you planning on going?”

“Tonight at 8.” Georgi eyes her, silently pleading for her to accept. Elizabeth thought for a moment. What am I doing tonight? Nothing. Elizabeth looked at Georgi, and nearly laughed. She looks so hopeful.

Elizabeth smiled, and answered, “Sure Georgi.” And thus Georgi's expression transformed into one of pure pleasure. Elizabeth had always been popular with everyone, encouraging shy souls and luring old grouches out of their gloom with her laughter. In school she had always a wide circle of friends and acquaintances, however, Elizabeth only had one or two close confidants. Elizabeth enjoyed friends and company, if they were amiable enough—in short, as long as they didn't openly insult her.

Georgi left soon after that, saying that she had to do a few more `back-to-school' errands before the movie. “I'll pick you up at your apartment at quarter to seven or so”

“Wait, you don't know where my apartment is.” Elizabeth informed Georgi. “It's—“

“It's okay. Will told me.” Will? Ah, Robot. He was paying attention that night? What is he, some sort of photographic memory person? I hate those people. They're too smart for their own good.

Elizabeth checked the clock. It was thirty minutes to six, when she usually closed. Kitty had bailed on her today, claiming she also had to do back to school shopping. Yeah, right. Of course we're ignoring how I took you to do exactly that three days ago. Most likely Kitty went to Plum Island with…what's her name…Jenna, yeah.

Elizabeth started cleaning up, scrubbing counters and putting ingredients away. Putting on her coat, she stepped outside and locked the door. Out of the corner of her eye she thought she saw a mass of dark curls. Swiveling her head towards its direction, Elizabeth saw nothing. She shook her head. As much as a jerk the Robot is, I doubt he's a stalker…I hope. Smirking to herself, Elizabeth made her way to her car. Again, she though she saw dark curls. God. Stop it, Lizzy. Stop being paranoid.

Staring up the engine, Elizabeth glanced in the rearview mirror, and immediately saw the solemn, dark eyes of Will Darcy.

000

“I'm telling you, Jane, he's a stalker! He's planning on murdering me! I saw it in his eyes! Either that or he plans on kidnapping me and then—“

“And then?” Jane asked as she stirred the spaghetti.

Elizabeth blushed. “Yeah…well…let's say I decided Robot isn't the kind of stalker who forces himself on his victims.” Not saying I would mind seeing him…STOP. Don't even continue with that train of thought. STOP, LIZZY, STOP.

“Why do you insist on calling him `Robot'?” Jane glanced at her sister disapprovingly. “It's not very nice, you know.”

Elizabeth rolled her eyes and smiled. “Of course it's not nice. What's the point of calling someone a name if you don't want to insult them?”

Jane smiled, and replied, “You realize you hadn't had the chance to say it too his face.” Elizabeth narrowed her eyes

“Okay, so I'm letting my closet acquaintances know my opinion of him. What's wrong with that?” She looked at her sister expectantly, but Jane was engrossed in stirring the pasta. Does she know spaghetti doesn't need to be stirred that much?

After a moment Jane looked up, and Elizabeth was surprised of how worried the expression on her face was. “Lizzy, you met him once.”

“Twice.”

Jane sighed, and continued, “Twice, okay. And he said some rather mean words when he was tired and stressed from jetlag.” Elizabeth shot her sister a questioning look. “Yes, Lizzy. He had just got in Logan that morning, from being up since 10 the last night—west coast time—in LA. Then you met him that night, and he made no insulting comments and even walked you home. So, all in all, Lizzy, you've known him for one day. You have no right to draw conclusions about him.”

Elizabeth bristled, narrowing her eyes. “But Jane, one day is always I need to know he is an conceited, arrogant—“

“Lizzy! You've known him for one day,” Jane glanced at her pleadingly, “Give me a second chance. Besides,” Jane changed her tone, speaking lightly now, “Mrs. Long said he was a lawyer, not a kidnapper.” The sisters shared a laugh, but Elizabeth still wondered why Jane was so stressed about this. The conversation during dinner was none of great importance, as each sister was deep in thought. It was this comical sight that Kitty stumbled upon as she opened the door.

“Have you two masters of conversation conquered the simple tasks of small talk and graduated into staring into space and communicating telepathetically?” Kitty smirked; Jane and Elizabeth sat at the table, mechanically eating, and indeed, each staring into space.

Elizabeth broke away to glare at Kitty. “Wait, what? Did my sister actually say `telepathetically', a multi-syllable word? A miracle has occurred!” Kitty rolled her eyes, dropping her beach bag on the sofa. “Did you eat, because we can't feed you. Know that next time you bail on work and run off to the beach.”

Kitty plopped herself on the sofa, turning on the television. “Jenna and I stopped by Applebees and ate. Stop worrying, mother.”

Elizabeth picked up her plate and carried it to the kitchen to wash it. She called back, “Don't you dare compare me to Mother.” Elizabeth came back out, glancing at the clock. It was 7:49. She sat down on the couch, nudging Kitty's feet away. Elizabeth looked at the TV and wrinkled her nose. “Is there a reason we're watching Family Feud?”

Kitty glared at her. “Yes! I…well…that is…” Elizabeth gave her sisters a doubtful look. “Muffins!” exclaimed Kitty, as if that explained everything. Elizabeth rolled her eyes. And she says I'm going crazy.

“Lizzy,” said Jane, “Georgi's here. You should go down.”

“Who's Georgi?” asked Kitty from the couch.

“Robot's sister,” said Elizabeth, plucking her purse and sweeping out the apartment door, ignoring the `Who's Robot' that came from the sofa. Elizabeth took the elevator down, walking out the apartment house door, to see a smiling Georgi.

“Hello Lizzy. The driver is around the corner.”

Wait…driver? Is she loaded or something? Oh, wait. Sister of Robot…Of course

she's loaded. They rounded the corner to see a sleek, jet-black stretch limousine. Oh god. Let's not be inconspicuous, no, let's just let everyone in my money-starved neighborhood know Lizzy's got shiny, sparkling, new rich friends. Elizabeth smirked to herself, but opened the car door to get inside. Sitting down, she took stock of her surroundings, never having actually been in a limousine before. It was then she saw a pair of dark, brooding eyes. I don't care about anything Jane says, Will Darcy is stalking me!

“Elizabeth.” He said impassively, and then stared dully at her. Jeez, way to turn up the awkwardness. Elizabeth hated the way his gaze made her feel so insignificant, and how he made her feel like he was her dad's boss or something, and she had to be on her best behavior so her dad could get his promotion. Well, that was a strange analogy.

Breaking away from his gaze, Elizabeth saw two other girls who looked about Georgi's age, 18 or 19. Both girls were pale and red-haired, and Elizabeth was reminded briefly of Jane. They were introduced as Yogurt and Milky, which, upon hearing, Elizabeth snorted. Expecting the situation of their odd names to be explained, she was surprised when none came. Arching an eyebrow, she proceeded to stare at the window, which was a fruitless effort in itself. Maybe if I stare out at utter black for a while someone will initiate conversation. Sure enough, someone did initiate conversation.

“Your sweater is inside out.” Elizabeth whipped her head in the direction of the speaker. It was Milky. She had a bemused expression on her face, her pastel blue eyes shining. Elizabeth's eyes quickly flashed down to her torso. Her sweater was inside out.

The corner of her lip quirked in a sort of smirk. “Of course.” Elizabeth replied, her eyes dancing, as if that explained everything.

“How appropriate.” Elizabeth turned her head to look at Darcy. He was stilling staring at her in that same way that had caused Elizabeth to dub him `Robot'. It was if he hadn't spoken at all. Well, Robot Darcy, I see you had your soundcard repaired.

“What do you mean R—Darcy?” She asked, tilting her head. What does he mean, `appropriate'?

“You seem to be the type who does not care whether or not she pleases anybody, be it her apparel, or her manner.” Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. I think I need a dictionary…

“Do you claim that you've know me long enough to know my darkest, deepest, secrets?” Elizabeth remembered the conversation she had with Jane earlier. She had replied—

“No, I don't, but I only need one day to know your character.” Déjà vu, much? Elizabeth swallowed a smirk at the coincidence.

“Well,” she replied sarcastically, “it's a comfort to know that my `character' is as easy to draw up as yours.” Elizabeth suppressed another chuckle, and turned her head to continue looking out the window.

“What do you mean?” Elizabeth turned her head; surprised he had actually prolonged the conversation.

“What I mean,” she replied, laughter in her eyes, “is one day is also all I need to know…” That you're an arrogant prick and I hate you… “your character.” He raised an eyebrow, with such a confused expression on his face Elizabeth laughed before she could stop herself.

The movie Georgi picked was good; it had been a romantic comedy, and Elizabeth delighted in watching the several varieties of disgust or unease at scenes were the movie was a bit `female'. I wonder why he came. Surely he knew he was going to be surrounded by girls, going to a girl's movie, with all the feminine flairs that men so despise? Elizabeth snorted. Feminine flairs. I should go to my doctor. I'm starting to sound like a poet.

“Georgi! Dear Georgi, how are you?” Elizabeth flinched, as an all-too familiar voice cut through the nighttime silence. Caroline. The aforementioned invited herself into the car, complaining that `Charles was so cruel as to leave her with no way of survival.' Caroline narrowed her eyes when she saw Elizabeth smirking, but quickly recovered and became the slightly too happy girl Elizabeth remembered.

On the trip back to her apartment Milky and Yogurt began to chatter and joke about some new online video game. Elizabeth, never really into video games, proceeded to observe how Caroline clung to Darcy, fluttering her eyelashes up at him as he cringed.

Yogurt suddenly asked her a question. “Do you like any games, E-Liz?” Elizabeth smirked at the nickname. When they were in line to buy their tickets, Milky and Yogurt immediately began questioning Elizabeth on what to call her. “Elizabeth is so long and dreary.” Milky explained. They dismissed `Lizzy' saying that they wanted to call her something unique. And thus `E-Liz' was formed, much to Elizabeth's amusement. E-Liz…like a robot. Ooh, and I could marry Robot and…not continuing that thought.

“Not really,” she shrugged, “I was a nerd, even in my childhood, and I read books during recess.”

“You prefer literature to seizure inducing graphics?” Milky seemed shocked. Elizabeth had concluded from the last three hours Georgi had identical twin weirdo friends. Their quirk, however, was appealing in a way Elizabeth couldn't understand. Maybe I'm just as weird as them and I feel at home.

“Eliza is a great bookroom, sits in her room all day and doesn't do anything else!” Caroline purred; or rather, tried to purr; her voice was too high pitched to produce anything but an ear-splitting sequel.

“Your wrong, Caro,” Elizabeth returned smoothly, “I don't have time to read often, because I work long hours at the bakery. And I do come out and see the sun once in a while. For example, I went to the movies.” Caroline gave Elizabeth a withering glare. Elizabeth wondered if Caroline, an artist, just thought of her as her assistant, and Elizabeth had painted a better picture. Caroline, however, was not to be swayed. She turned to Georgi, and proceeded to douse her victim in a wave of sugarcoated compliments. Elizabeth nearly laughed.

“You're so accomplished!” Caroline concluded, grandly.

Yogurt snorted. “Everyone is accomplished, Caroline. Like every one is `special'. Thus no one is special or accomplished.” Elizabeth watched, amused, as Georgi gave her friend a slightly bewildered look that said `Aren't you supposed to be my friend?'

“I agree, Yasmin.” Yasmin? Elizabeth glanced a Yogurt just as she winced. Probably her real name. “The title `accomplished' is given out rather carelessly.” Elizabeth raised an eyebrow at Darcy. Um, who the hell cares? It's an insignificant title that only…Caroline uses.

“Then you expect a person to be really skilled before you dub them `accomplished'?” Elizabeth asked. I can at least watch what this snob thinks is `accomplished'.

Caroline spoke for him. “Oh yes! She must be familiar with all the classics, and fluent in at least one language. Oh! She also must be skilled in one instrument or more, and she must be polite and have good manners.” Elizabeth wondered briefly why this `accomplished person had suddenly turned female', but then started to speak, perhaps a bit bristled, when she saw Caroline's pitying smile.

“Caroline,” she said in a soothing tone as they stopped in front of her apartment, “I believe you've just described a college graduate. They're not that rare, but I suppose you don't know too many of them.” Elizabeth got out of the car before Caroline could retort, and smiling, waved goodbye before turning to her door. “Thanks!” she said to Georgi, “I had a great time.”

Great time? Elizabeth snorted. Sure, it had its quirks…Milky and `Yasmin' and Georgi, mostly, but dealing with Snob-E the Robot and Queen Bitch always leaves me in a bad mood. Elizabeth let out a bitter laugh. See, I'm so freaking upset of come up with shitty insults. Queen Bitch? Need to find a better one. I guess I could call her Caro, but that's just sort of amusing and not insulting at all.

“Did you have a good time?” asked Jane from the sofa.

“Caroline Bingley is The Coffee Lady!” came the answer. A few seconds later, “Damn, I really need to work on that.”

“See,” Kitty whispered to Jane, “I told you she was going crazy.”

0000

4

A Bennet Dinner

“You're what?”

Elizabeth couldn't believe her ears were working properly, and if not that, Jane had to be joking. But Elizabeth's ears were in their prime and Jane appeared to be perfectly serious. Then Elizabeth questioned her sister's sanity. Why, in a million years, would Jane want to bring Charlie, even with Caroline, Robot Darcy, and Georgi, to Mrs. Bennet's house? It was just disaster waiting to happen. Elizabeth voiced these thoughts.

“She's not that bad, Lizzy. Mother is just a bit excitable. That's all, really. Just as bad as Lydia, probably, and Lydia's been improving.” Elizabeth rolled her eyes at such an understatement. `Just a bit excitable'? More like, `freaking out all the time' excitable.

“Okay, Mother and Lydia are improving. But whenever Mother is in three miles of a young, rich, single guy she willing runs off the deep end. There'll be two there. Two.” Elizabeth empathized, holding up two fingers. Jane just smiled indulgently at her sister.

Elizabeth sighed, knowing she was fighting a losing battle. They were definitely going to that dinner tonight. Thus she bid a farewell to Jane and set off for the bakery, all the while praying that tonight would've as hell-like as it was probably going to be.

000

Elizabeth returned home to find her living room full of people, namely Charlie, Georgi, Caroline, and him. Jane and Kitty were entertaining their company, talking animatedly, or rather, Kitty gesturing all over the place and Jane nodding at intervals.

“So um…how come I wasn't invited?” Elizabeth adopted a mock hurt expression as six pairs of eyes looked up at her.

Jane smiled, and explained, “Charlie, Caroline, Will, and Georgi came over to offer their transportation services to dinner.” Elizabeth nodded, commenting on how spacious it was when she rode. “Did you have a good day at work?” Jane inquired.

Elizabeth dropped her purse on the kitchen counter and proceeded to flop down next to Kitty on the sofa. “As good as a day would go bye without Kitty here to help me.” She nudged her sister.

“I had back-to-school shopping,” her sister protested, albeit a bit weakly.

“Yeah, yeah,” Elizabeth dismissed the excuse quickly, “The same back-to-school shopping you've had for a week now. What are you doing? Buying one pencil every time you go?” Kitty had no answer to match her sister's wit. “I should threaten you…But with what?” Elizabeth thought for a moment, and then grinned mischievously at Jane. “I could something like what I did to Jane when she was seven.” She suggested.

Jane's hands immediately flew to her strawberry-blonde hair to protect it from Elizabeth's wrath.

“I assume there's a story behind this.” Elizabeth gaze flickered over to Darcy. Thank you, Captain Obvious.

“Yep. When I was six Jane flushed my Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle down the toilet.” She paused to gauge her audience's reaction; Charlie had the same eager face that he always did. He's so sweet. Jane deserves a nice guy like him. Caroline was evidently bored by Elizabeth's story, rolling her eyes and smiling coquettishly at Darcy. Elizabeth almost smiled at such ridiculous behavior, but Darcy caught her eye and she immediately sobered under his cold glare. Why does he have to be such a spoilsport?

“Anyways, to get back at Jane I replaced the shampoo in our shared shampoo bottle with a mixture of hand lotion and green food dye. The result's weren't pretty after Jane washed her hair.” A chorus of snorts of laughter followed this statement. “It was all good fun until I forgot to wash the shampoo bottle and took a shower.” Charlie was laughing heartily by the time Elizabeth finished, Caroline allowed herself a small quirk of the lips, but instantly adopted a sour expression once Elizabeth caught her eye. Georgi was smiling widely, giggling to herself. The only thing to express Darcy's amusement was a small quirk of the eyebrow. Elizabeth accepted this as enough to express he thought her story was funny, and decided not to throw any mental insults his way.

“You must have quite a temper, Eliza, to play such a mean trick on your sister.” Caroline accused, once the laughter had subsided. The effect of this statement was varied: Jane and Kitty watched their sister worriedly, and even perhaps even a bit of dread of what might come. Charlie was glaring at his sister, most likely bidding her to be polite. Georgi appeared anxious, her eyes quickly flashing back and forth from Elizabeth and Caroline. Darcy's expression was strangely eager as he watched Elizabeth expectantly.

Elizabeth, however, was a bit solemn, but quirked her eyebrow. “I do not deny I have a temper,” she said finally, “It would be stupid to say I didn't have any faults.” She looked at Caroline, smirking, silently daring her to say something more.

Caroline, however witty she might be, chose to say something very stupid: “Some people just don't have faults, I imagine.” She sniffed at Elizabeth.

Elizabeth gave out an astonished laugh. “You mean to say you have a perfect person in your circle of acquaintances? I find that hard to believe. No one is flawless!”

“William is flawless,” answered Caroline, batting her eyes at said `flawless' person. All eyes turned to Darcy, and he only grunted in response.

“Flawless, R-Darcy?” Elizabeth repeated, challenging him. The Robot, without fault? Oh, this is going to be fun. Let's see what Mr. Perfect can do to defend himself.

“No one is perfect. Everyone has fault. Even if a person appeared to be perfect, they can be laughed at by person such as yourself.”

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. He thinks I'm a ditz that laughs at everything. Poor little boy with his poor little life. I guess I have to enlighten him. “I laugh at faults, Darcy. But then again, those are precisely what you don't have.”

“Oh, I wouldn't say so, Lizzy.” Elizabeth was surprised that Georgi had spoken up; and was even more bewildered at the mischievous gleam in her dark eyes. “Will has faults, too. You should see him on Sunday night, when he has nothing to do.”

Elizabeth laughed at such a picture, silently congratulating Georgi for speaking out. Don't be such a wallflower like your brother. Elizabeth cell phone vibrated from her jean pocket, and excusing herself, she strolled into the kitchen to answer it.

“Lizzy??” Elizabeth winced at the high-pitched shriek that came through her phone.

“Yes, Mother?” She answered, cursing her dutiful tone.

“Where are you? We expected you long ago! My spaghetti will turn cold if you keep this act up!” Elizabeth grimaced at the shrillness of Mrs. Bennet's voice, but replied that they would head off from the apartment soon. “Oh, did I tell you? Mary chose she could spare moment from her precious Book Club, and Lyddy decided not to go to that club that she's always gabbing about. Won't that be fun; having all you sisters there? It will be just like when you five were growing up, were it not for Thomas…” Elizabeth strained to here more of what her mother said, hoping that she could somehow read her expression if she listened hard enough. When Mrs. Bennet's voice cut though the silence, it was like being doused with ice water. “Well then, see you in a bit, Lizzy dear!”

Elizabeth hung up the phone, pressing her fist to her mouth, and smiled to herself. Her mother was really…'excitable', as Jane put it, but no one could blame her. I mean, come on people! Two rich bachelors under the age of forty! It's a dream come true…

“Jane says we need to leave.” Elizabeth turned around to see Darcy, as impassive as ever. Instead of replying, she walked right past him into the living room. She flinched when she thought someone had touched her hand. Her eyes quickly darted to Darcy, but his expression was same. How are you supposed to read this brick wall excuse of a person?

The ride to the Bennet household was full of conversation, which Elizabeth did strive to take part of, but found she couldn't say a thing with Darcy staring at her so unnervingly. It was like he was analyzing her; criticizing her. And while it made her feel uneasy, it also provoked her anger. What right does he have to criticize me? Sure, he's rich, but so what? They arrived at the Colonial home exactly on time, and Elizabeth wondered why Mrs. Bennet wanted them to hurry. At the door was Mrs. Bennet, in all her glory, looking very pleased with herself. The introductions took place all around.

Fanny Bennet had been attractive all her life, with sparkling chocolate-brown eyes and beautiful blonde ringlets. And even now, with all her 52 years, Fanny still was in her prime, not one gray discoloring her perfect golden locks; and only the slightest of wrinkles gracing her face.

It was a wide smile that teased Fanny's lips and she called to her remaining daughters. “Lydia! Mary! Our guests are here!” She turned to Charlie, “You've met Elizabeth and Kitty, yes? My other daughters are very like them, I should think. Lydia has the best personality, you know. All my daughters are very talented, you see—Jane is the prettiest, Elizabeth the most clever…and most unreasonable, Mary the smartest, and Kitty has a great sense of humor. Though, I'm afraid, Kitty is growing too like Elizabeth. God knows what that girl is teaching her.”

Elizabeth momentarily wondered how being good-looking or having a `good' personality were talents, but turned her attention as Mary appeared beside, had just come down form her room. “Hello Mary.” She tried to smile at her sister, but Mary gave her a look that crushed any attempts at friendliness.

Mary was the very essence of anti-social, even more so than Elizabeth. She was the sort of person who dressed in colors similar to the wallpaper so they wouldn't be noticed. Unlike most of her other sisters, her hair wasn't the curtain of dark curls; more like a long mane of slightly wavy raven-like hair.

Lydia bounded down the stair next, golden ringlets bouncing. Her ice-blue eyes surveying the newcomers in minimum interest. Her eyes widened at the sight of Darcy, and her eyes dropped to his waist. Elizabeth cringed; she knew exactly what Lydia was thinking. However, as Darcy's expression hardened, Lydia looked away. “What did you want, Mother?”

“Lydia, Mary, we have guests. You must meet them.” Mary sighed, but nodded dutifully. Lydia, ever dramatic, rolled her eyes and placed her hands on her hips. Yes, like saying a simple hello is going to positively going to kill your cool. “This is Charles and Caroline Bingley,” Fanny waved her hand in their general directing, smiling like the tabby cat that had caught the canary. Charlie smiled and offered his hand, but the two girls just eyed warily. Caroline decided she need not even acknowledge them with a nod. Canaries, from her wide smile at all four of them. “And this is The William Darcy, with his sister, Georgiana.” Darcy nodded at the two sisters, and Georgiana smiled timidly.

“Well, you all can go in the living room—it's right through there—while you wait for dinner. It will be done in ten minutes, tops!” And with that, Fanny Bennet shuffled out of the front room and into the kitchen.

Lydia rolled her eyes once last time before prancing up the stairs. Mary called up after her, “When you have company it is polite to entertain them!” Lydia made no response save from a glare at her sister. A silence ensued.

“You know guys, this awkward silence can just as well commence in the living room on comfortable sofas instead of in the front hallway when we're on our feet. What do you say?” Elizabeth managed to contort her face in what she hoped looked like a genuine smile. Lost hopes, really. How can I make myself look genuine when Jane's boyfriend, friends, and family have seen my mother as a busybody, Lydia as a slut, and Mary as a lecturing hermit? God help me, if they ever meet Dad…

Fortunately, Elizabeth's suggestion was met with nods of approval and a `That's a good idea' from Charlie. But then when they were all settled on the sofas, the dreaded silence Elizabeth tried to get rid of came back.

“I really didn't think you guys took me seriously about the `awkward silence' thing. Conversation is permitted, you know.” She said, laughing.

Kitty laughed with her, but retorted, “How do you know that, Lizzy? Maybe Mum took an oath to never say a word while in this room.” She waggled her eyebrows.

“For one thing, that's ridiculous and you're deranged for even saying something concerning anything remotely related to some twisted version of an oath of silence,” Elizabeth thought for a moment, “Another point; Mom, not talking? You must be deranged.” Kitty, indignant, opened her mouth to reply when--

“She is deranged,” sniffed Mary, opening a book on an end table. So much for entertaining your guests. Kitty let it drop, but glared at Elizabeth and Mary.

“Lizzy?” Elizabeth looked at Georgi. “Would it be too impolite to ask where your father might be?” She stared at Georgi, completely baffled for a few seconds. Does she know? Is she asking just to spite me? No, Georgi is not Caroline. She was asking an innocent question. Maybe Charlie doesn't even know.

Elizabeth was saved form answering as Fanny entered the room “Dinner is served,” she announced. Turning, she called form over her shoulder, “Follow me, if you please.” Fanny led them to the dining room with a regal air. Lydia was already sitting at the table, looking out the window with a dull expression. After everyone was seated, Fanny began `The Circle of Serving.' It was a Bennet title for a system of which how they served everyone. The head of the table would serve themselves something from that dish, then pass it around and so on. Elizabeth sighed into her seat as she saw the people who were sitting next to her: Darcy and Caroline. This should make for some interesting conversation.

Fanny passed Darcy the bowl of spaghetti. He held it, looking like he wasn't quite sure what to do with it. He's probably never done this sort of thing. I can just hear: Serving yourself? Whoever created such impropriety? Elizabeth, with a grin, leaned over to him and whispered, “Don't worry. You won't become middle-class if you serve yourself for just one night.” He glanced at her with an irritated look, but softened as soon as he caught her eye. She arched an eyebrow at him, and Darcy's cheeks flushed the tiniest hint of pink. He focused on forking the spaghetti on his plate, then passing the bowl to Elizabeth, avoiding her gaze. Did I just make William Darcy blush?

Elizabeth wondered if that was a good thing or a bad thing as she mechanically served herself and began to eat. Darcy was pretty damn gorgeous, but his personality was a lot to be desired. Elizabeth had never met such an arrogant or conceited person in her life. His logic was twisted, and the way he delivered his opinion was maddening. She would only be polite to him for Charlie, and therefore Jane, and Georgi.

“Lizzy!” Elizabeth looked up in response to her mother. She hadn't realized Fanny had actually been talking. I guess I can tune her out by now. “Charles here says that you are making the cake for Caroline's birthday?” Before Elizabeth could respond—

“She's what?” Caroline shrieked, looking at Elizabeth in horror. “You are making my birthday cake?” Elizabeth nodded, struggling to keep normal composure when Caroline was so incredulous it was funny. “The nerve of—Georgi!” Caroline launched upon her victim. “I thought you said you got a custom-made cake!”

Georgi trembled visibly. “I-It is c-c-custom made!” She stuttered, her eyes wide in terror. Darcy grunted in defense of his sister, sending a cold glare toward Caroline. Mrs. Bennet, ever the detective, started asking questions to deaf ears, and shrieks of laughter erupted at the other end of the table from Kitty and Lydia, Mary angrily lecturing them. Elizabeth glanced at Jane. She just stared at her hands that were folded in her lap, biting her lip and looking positively white.

Elizabeth groaned. Everything was going wrong. So much for impressing Charlie with our `high sense of decorum'. Elizabeth inwardly sighed as her eyes darted around the table as she surveyed the chaos. Cliché as it might be, surely it can't get any worse?

And the doorbell rang.

Elizabeth glanced around the table. Apparently, she was the only one who had heard it, or at least did not bother to answer it. Standing up, Elizabeth made her way to the front door, the noise of the hysteria in the dining room only an echo. Opening the door, she gasped.

“Dad!”

000

Elizabeth did not even try to initiate conversation with anyone as she sat by Jane in the living room. Jane's shoulders were shaking, but thankfully, she was not crying. The last thing that Elizabeth knew Jane wanted was to cry in public.

“I should've of listened to you, Lizzy.” Jane sighed, her eyes still on her lap. “I should've known it would be like World War III.”

Elizabeth tried to comfort her sister, but was not finding success. “It wasn't that bad. Just a bit of noise. Anyone can handle that.” Lies, lies, and you know it, Elizabeth Bennet. You could see Darcy's expression: pure disgust. But this time we really can't blame him. She looked up from her task for a moment, and found Darcy staring at her again. Elizabeth glared at him. Can you feel just one shred of compassion, you monster? My sister just be really embarrassed! Show some sympathy!

“And then Dad came.” Jane said, glum. Thomas Bennet had stridden into the dining room with all his glory, announcing he had to see this new boyfriend of his daughter's. Cue Mother to explode at Dad. There were still in there now, their voices audible enough to almost decipher them, but not quite.

Thomas and Fanny had divorced when Jane was eleven and Lydia was four. Elizabeth had guessed they never really loved each other, but when they met they were so drawn in by the other's beauty they were enchanted. They fell in infatuation, not love, and got married scarcely four months after their first date.

The Bennet's personality's did not match, even remotely. Thomas was dry, sarcastic, and clever, while Fanny was bubbly, excitable (Elizabeth sensed the humor as she thought this, but did not allow herself a smile), and leaned toward the frivolous side. But when they found out that I was too late, with a baby on the way. Thomas knew, then, he couldn't leave her. What still plagued her mind was why he didn't leave after Jane was born.

Elizabeth lifted her head in surprise when the shouting subsided. Thomas was heard to come out of the room, and his footsteps echoed in the hallway as he walked to the living room. “I think I better go." He said, grim. He nodded at everyone. "It was nice to `meet' you all, I suppose. Bye Lizzy.” He smiled at his favorite daughter. “Bye Jane.” And he vanished form sight. Then Fanny came, wiping at her eyes.

“Terribly sorry that. Thomas is such a disagreeable man.” But Elizabeth could see that she was hiding something as she readjusted her impenetrable social mask. Perhaps not as indestructible as we were led to believe…

Finding no safe subject to converse upon, they soon left, too. Elizabeth sighed once more. It had not been the casual, yet impressing affair Jane had so desperately wanted. As she shut the limo door behind her, a thought occurred to her and a bitter smile graced her features.

5

An Addition

“Char, I swear to God that Lydia will turn my hair snow white before the end of the semester!” Elizabeth drained the liquid out of her drink, via straw, with a passion that could only be identified when that particular person was extremely frustrated, inexpressibly angry, or incredibly annoyed. Elizabeth was experiencing all three.

Charlotte Lucas smiled sympathetically, secretly amused. Being one of Elizabeth's closest friends, she was subjected to weekly rants from Elizabeth. Elizabeth always had something to go on and on about, whether it be an annoying customer, or a rude lady who cut her off while driving. It was part of Elizabeth's nature to be constantly annoyed with something, however inane or unimportant. Often, Charlotte delightfully compared her friend's characteristic to Mrs. Bennet's ceaseless rattling, much to Elizabeth's annoyance. Unfortunately, this tirade's particular topic was one that could not be labeled off as absurd.

“I mean, if Lydia utters one more word on how hot this friend of hers—Denny—is, I will lose my last molecule of sanity that's keeping me together. Without it, I'll just be a pile of bones.” Elizabeth sighed glumly, crossing her arms on the food court table before resting her head on them.

“I didn't know sanity created skin.” Charlotte teased, biting into French fry. Elizabeth looked up at her with such an exasperated shine in her eye that Charlotte laughed.

Charlotte sobered, “Seriously, I give you my sympathies, but I remain that Lydia doesn't listen to anyone and does whatever the hell she wants, so don't try to tame her like you did with Kitty.”

“Tame? You make them sound like animals!” Elizabeth looked accusingly at Charlotte. Charlotte remained unfazed, a smug expression on her face. “Well okay, they can act like animals sometimes…particularly when Lydia is in Kitty's presence, she just sort of dominates her, but…” Elizabeth trailed off, and bit her straw, turning it in circles in her teeth. She did not particularly want to meet Charlotte's self-satisfied smile. “When's that boyfriend of yours going to meet us? Isn't he like ten minutes late, or something?”

“Wrong, Lizzy! It's actually,” Charlotte paused to check her watch, “two minutes before Bill is scheduled to arrive. Feeling a bit anxious to be in the company of my oh-so-handsome boyfriend? Should I be suspicious, Lizzy?”

Elizabeth dramatically rolled her eyes. “You know as well as I do that I am thoroughly disgusted by Bill Collins,” as an afterthought, “No offense, of course.” Her smirk only barely kept the giggles from being audible.

Charlotte opened her mouth to retaliate when Elizabeth heard the all-too-familiar laughter echoing around the food court. Elizabeth's eyes slowly widened, and her jaw dropped to present a thoroughly shocked expression. Shit. Gingerly looking over her shoulder, Elizabeth groaned at what she saw. A brief battle commenced inside of her head, but at last she stood up from her seat and walked over.

“Kitty, Lydia.” Elizabeth nodded to each in turn. Adopting a stern tone, the brunette continued, “What are you doing here? You guys were supposed to go grocery shopping with Jane. You really need to learn to do what you're told, y'know.”

Lydia cast an overly exasperated look at Kitty, who merely smirked. Her younger sister took this as agreement. Facing Elizabeth, Lydia spoke with deliberate enunciation, mocking her elder sister with every syllable. “Don't order us about, Lizzy. We're not kids. Kitty's even past the legal drinking age.” Lydia's smug smirk faded into an ugly sneer as Elizabeth answered—

“I wasn't talking about Kitty.” Elizabeth congratulated herself for snubbing her younger sister so efficiently.

“—that weird, Lizzy? I mean, it's like supernatural.” Elizabeth blinked before registering that Kitty was speaking. She expressed her inattention, and Kitty explained, “You know the book you and Jane got me for my birthday? Well there's this guy in the book, George Wickham, and he is so awesome. And you know the asshole Darcy? Well turns out he was also a complete prick to Wickham, too, and rnnyah!”

Kitty glared at Lydia, who had obviously shoved her to stop her chatter. She let it drop though, and cut to the chase, “Well, Lydia's boyfriend, Denny Wickham, has a big brother named George. George Wickham, from my book!” Elizabeth's only response was a half-hearted smile. Lydia, however, chose to ignore the entire coincidence.

“If you must know, Lizzy, we're meeting Denny and George here.” She glared defiantly at Lizzy, crossing her arms over her chest. Elizabeth remained infuriatingly indifferent as she asked how old Denny and George were. Lydia shot her sister a withering look and turned back to Kitty. Just as Elizabeth opened her mouth to speak, a loud, nasally voice was heard.

“Miss Eliza! Eliza!” Elizabeth cringed, but turned around to face her doom in the shape of her best friend's boyfriend.

When describing Bill Collins, there is only one word that would aptly describe every aspect of Bill's character: odd. As for looks, Bill was the picture of `funny-looking' with frizzy red hair, beady brown eyes, and large mouth. On top of the nerd look, Bill had donned a long-sleeved, plaid shirt, dress pants, and to complete the picture, thick-rimmed glasses that were constantly sliding down his nose, causing Bill to frequently push them back in place.

Bill stuck out a greasy palm. “It's been far too long, Eliza, since we last met,” he chortled, grinning a smile that revealed all of his long, scraggily teeth. Elizabeth gingerly shook it, and hers flicked over to her younger sisters in a silent plead for them to greet him accordingly.

Kitty smiled and Bill nodded, while Lydia decided that this particular acquaintance of hers was not worthy enough (meaning he was not good-looking enough) to be acknowledged. Instead, she sneered, flipping her hair before unwrapping a piece of gum and popping it into her mouth. Elizabeth gritted her teeth in disapproval, but said nothing.

Bill took this new silence as an opportunity to somehow connect the situation into a topic about his infamous boss, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, herself. Elizabeth could never quite keep a regular countenance when she heard her Ladyship's title. Technically speaking, she was the widow to an English knight, but it made Elizabeth laugh all the same. She sounds like a character right out of Kitty's book.

Although Elizabeth had tuned out most of Bill's incessant chattering, she recognized the thinly guarded insults he directed towards her family in the same manner as she would note the color of someone's eyes. Thus it was Elizabeth's inattention that caused her to jump well nigh three inches when the youngest of her sisters cried out in pleasure.

“Denny! George!”

Elizabeth, for the third time in ten minutes cringed and turned around, afraid to see one of Lydia's male `friends', but her attempt failed, and her jaw promptly dropped. The first guy was probably Denny, considering how young he looked. But age didn't matter, not even remotely. He could've told her he was forty-five, and Lydia wouldn't bat an eyelid. He would be still good-looking, after all.

In reality, even Elizabeth had to allow that Denny, sandy-haired and freckled, was cute. But looks didn't hold much consequence in Elizabeth's book. From that dazed look in his eyes, Elizabeth figured he would have a better chance to get on a magazine cover than ace an elementary test.

George however, was an entirely different story. Elizabeth could not recall a man that was as attractive as he…actually she could, but Elizabeth did not classify a particular dark-haired, chocolate-eyed man as an actual human. There is a truth behind that nickname, after all. She did not allow her thoughts to dwell on such a disagreeable subject long, and continued to admire George's looks. He had open, crystal blue eyes that laughed, and a smirk that was as mocking as it was striking. He was cocky in his manner, but charming all the same.

Kitty tapped Elizabeth's mouth closed, whispering in her ear; “Such displays in public won't get you brownies points with the other sex.” Elizabeth pretended not to notice Kitty, but looked at Lydia meaningfully.

Lydia popped her gum and waved her hand in their general direction. “This is my older prude of a sister, Elizabeth, her friend Charlotte, and Char's,” Lydia glanced at Bill to determine what exactly he could be labeled as, “boyfriend.” She said, as though he hardly classified as one. I suppose Lydia thinks he doesn't even classifies as a human.

With a wave in the newcomers' direction, Lydia announced their names again, with much more enthusiasm, “Guys, this is Denny and George Wickham!”

Denny smiled shyly, mumbling a barely audible “m'Denny” His brother, apparently, was much more animated in his greeting.

“It is a pleasure to meet you all,” his eyes rested on Elizabeth, “Especially certain prudes of older sisters.” And he flashed her a dazzling grin. Elizabeth suddenly decided they heated the malls way too much in the fall months.

The group dispersed into different conversations after they bought more fast food to munch on, sitting down on the uncomfortable food court chairs. The youngest sisters entertained Denny, while the couple sat huddled together, and Elizabeth and her new friend talked over the crowd's chatter. George continued to charm Elizabeth with his indeed cocky manner, and she soon discovered he was a flirt--a major one. I do believe he takes the saying, “If at first you don't succeed, try, try again” a bit too literally.

However, he seemed to have acknowledged that Elizabeth was much more clever than the brainless girls he had conquered before, and even made fun of himself. Secretly, however, he thought of Elizabeth as an interesting challenge. It had been twenty minutes, and they decided to get up to throw their trash away, and then possibly go shopping—an idea on which Lydia insisted upon.

Elizabeth was laughing at George's joke when she collided with something hard and began to teeter backwards. George, luckily, pushed her back in place before she could fall. A look of irritation was etched upon her face as she looked up. Who the hell doesn't watch where they're going in a crowded mall? She conveniently decided to ignore the fact that she had done just that.

Elizabeth's annoyance increased as she saw the disdainful expression of William Darcy. It was the icing on top of the cake. She was about to burst from all the stress that Lydia had caused her, and so she snapped: “Darcy! Watch where you're going, jeez!” Elizabeth waited for the familiar proud look to come to his face until she noticed that his gaze no longer rested on her, but on something slightly behind her, his face considerably redder than what could be considered healthy. The rather murderous expression was also something that should be pointed out. Elizabeth turned her head over to examine George's expression, and saw that his face had completely drained of color, as though he had woken up from a nightmare.

Darcy's eyes flitted back and forth between her and George a few times, and then rested on Elizabeth, who nearly thought she saw a sort of longing in his eyes. The moment was so brief, though, that Elizabeth declared herself paranoid, or something similar to that effect. Darcy moved away without a word, stiff, tense, and precise in his manner, as if he was struggling to even walk. Elizabeth thought of a weary soldier who was still marching forward, despite the gaping wound in his heart. Elizabeth, realizing whom she was making these similes about, tore her eyes away from his back.

It was then that she noticed Charlie standing there, not a little shocked, but as was his manner, greeted her warmly. He looked around Elizabeth, eyes searching. She laughed, “Sorry Charlie, Jane went to the grocery store. She's not here.” He blushed, stuttered out an excuse, and decided to follow after his friend.

Elizabeth cornered George after Charlie left. “What was that all about?” She glanced over to the rest of their party to see if they had noticed the episode. Whoever didn't was either extremely distracted or extremely stupid. Elizabeth amused herself in wondering which of her friends fitted under each category—they appeared to not have witnessed a thing.

“Oh, a long, boring story that can be told at another time.” George said lightly.

Elizabeth looked at him and replayed the incident in her mind. Somehow she doubted that the history between these two men could hardly be described as `boring'.

000

“That is strange.” Jane commented as she reached up to put a Cheerios cereal box into the cupboard. It didn't fit, and her brow furrowed. It always fit; Jane had a systematic way of putting the food away, and everyone had to either follow it, or bear Jane's wrath. Sure, Jane's fury could hardly be on par of Elizabeth's, but she was a Bennet, and thus it was deadly all the same.

Standing on her tiptoes, Jane peeked up into the cupboard to see what had disrupted her organization. She took down a bottle of Coke.

Elizabeth shook her head. Only one person in the apartment liked Coke. “Lydia,” she hissed, exasperated. She opened her mouth, but Jane, knowing that what would've come out of her mouth, spoke before Elizabeth could say a word.

“She's just doesn't know the way things work around here. It's not her fault.” Jane said, ever the diplomat. Elizabeth rolled her eyes, clearly dissatisfied. “Anyways, did you ask George anything more about Will?”

Jane had a way of handling her sister, for she had a set way of doing everything. She would let Elizabeth talk, express her emotions, her feelings, and once she had calmed down, Jane would wait for the sensible part of her sister who thought things through. She would digest every aspect of the situation, and then give an opinion that explained the actions of everyone that had taken part in the incident. In short, Jane made sure that Elizabeth didn't rip anyone's head off without good reason.

“I tried to, but he seemed very shaken…Almost scared of Darcy,” a beat, “I mean, sure, the Robot's slightly out there and everything, but never really downright scary.” Jane mumbled something in agreement and they lapsed into a thoughtful silence as they continued to put away the groceries, each wondering of what had happened.

“Jane! Lizzy!” Kitty rushed into the kitchen, smiling mischievously. Elizabeth arched an eyebrow and Jane looked on calmly, as Kitty explained, much louder than necessary, “Lydia is wearing my sweater! Tell her to give it back!”

“Shut up, Kitty! The color never suited you.” Lydia sauntered into the kitchen, a smug look on her face. “It looks much better on me, huh, Lizzy?” Elizabeth went back to storing food away, casting a sideways glance at Lydia.

“Yes Lydia, Mom's maternity clothing always looks much better on you.”

6

Awkward Turtles

“I've come up with the perfect name for Caroline!”

Elizabeth looked expectantly around at the early-morning countenances of her sisters. Jane, as usual, was already dressed, showered, and awake--not a detail out of place. Kitty lacked the energy to be as ready as Jane by breakfast, for she spent most of the nighttime studying and got six hours of sleep everyday at the most. To her credit, she was already dressed, but her hair was tousled and the make-up she usually wore was missing from her appearance. Lydia, however, simply lacked motivation to be presentable at all, and had yet to get out of her pajamas.

“Lizzy, I've told you again and again: it's not nice to call people names.” Jane gave Elizabeth a disapproving look from over her coffee mug.

“And I've told you, Janie, that I can never promise to be unconditionally nice like certain people I know.” Elizabeth returned sweetly. Jane rolled her eyes and smiled, hoping that her sister wouldn't notice the faint blush on her cheeks.

“Anyways,” Elizabeth continued without missing a beat, “this discovery was not made spontaneously, for I created it the first night I met Caroline. I was just too preoccupied to notice what a great nickname it was then.”

“Get on with it, Lizzy!” Lydia grumbled sleepily. Kitty smirked at her, receiving only a death glare from her sister in response. Elizabeth gave them both an impatient look and continued once again.

“As I was saying, Caroline Bingley shall be know as Sharpay Evans from now on.”

Lydia's head snapped up from the cup of orange juice she was nursing. “I can't believe you! You're mocking me!” Her eyes were wide in indignation and she stared at Elizabeth in shock.

“How clever of you to realize that, Lyddy,” Kitty simpered, sharing an amused look with Elizabeth. The youngest Bennet sister continued to rant while her sisters only laughed in response until Jane intervened quietly.

“Kitty, please apologize to Lydia. We all know that she is very smart.” Jane spoke quietly, as was her manner.

Kitty snorted indelicately, rolling her eyes. “Well, she may be smart, but she certainly doesn't act upon it.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Lydia cried, fully awake now that Kitty was viciously attacking her ego.

“Okay guys, just shut up!” Three pairs of eyes turned to Elizabeth. She glared back defiantly. “I don't need to hear your bickering so early in the morning.” Her declaration was met with resentful huffs from both of the younger sisters and a gentle, yet firm warning from Jane. Fortunately, she managed to escape to a sanctuary in shape of her bedroom.

Closing the door behind her with a coffee cup in hand, Elizabeth sighed in relief. The loud complaints and cries were only a muffled reminder of the chaos that lurked outside her door. Trudging over to her desk, she set her cup down and opened up her laptop.

Clicking on her email, Elizabeth scrolled down the list of highlighted mail, eyes searching for someone of significance. Her eyes immediately locked on one message. It was from Georgi Darcy, and the subject was interestingly left blank. Elizabeth doubled clicked on the letter, and read its contents.

Hi Lizzy,

I'm sorry if we've had a sudden lack of communication come between us.

Elizabeth furrowed her brow as she processed this information. Yes, it was true. She hadn't heard anything from Georgi lately.

It's Will's doing. We saw (rather he saw) someone from our past, and he decided that Boston was currently unsafe for me.

The day in the mall two weeks ago flashed across Elizabeth's mind. The person from their `past' was most certainly George, and although they didn't exactly greet each other cordially, Elizabeth had never suspected something like this.

She reread the last part again, and her anger flared. Who was he to decide of where Georgi should go? And all because of George?

Elizabeth thought of smiling, pleasant, charming George. He was the last person she would think as being dangerous.

Elizabeth concluded he was simple spiteful over some unknown issue. She sighed in frustration. George still hadn't told her what was up, and it was driving her insane. Whenever Elizabeth cleverly brought Darcy up in a conversation, he would only wince and quickly change the topic.

He's just being overly protective. While this certain person did give me scare, I think it's best that for once that I face my fears.

This part didn't fit with what Elizabeth had concluded with. Why had Georgi been scared of George? But then again, Georgi was always scared of something. Elizabeth chuckled. George couldn't be in any way scary unless…

Oh my god.

Suddenly she turned very pale. How old was Georgi? Nineteen? Twenty? Yes, Georgi was twenty.

Georgi had the type of withdrawn personality that caused Elizabeth to believe that it was impossible that she had been born with this shyness, rather, some incident had caused her to become this wary.

George was a flirt; as flamboyant as a gay guy. Perhaps, in some way, he had scared Georgi.

No, that was too innocent an action to have such consequences. It had to be something bigger. If George had done…something to Georgi, Elizabeth could never forgive him.

Stop it, Lizzy.

She was making assumptions. But the evidence, why, it was nearly all there!

I'm coming back to Boston for school (albeit it being a bit late) so you should see me around.

So…You're probably wondering how I got your email. Well, I asked Charlie if he could ask Jane what your email address was, and he did and I really hope you don't think me too impertinent.

Wow I'm babbling…um.

I hope to be hearing from you.

--Georgi

Elizabeth realized she hadn't been breathing. She gasped, inhaling the stuffy air that was always in her room. Jane had kept reminding her to open the window sometime, but Elizabeth had never listened before. Now, the idea of the fresh morning air was irresistible. Elizabeth stepped around the mess of her room to get to the window. She threw it open and leaned out of it, breathing heavily.

It was ironic that before she had thought George just a normal, innocent guy that had somehow offended Darcy more than she had. Now, her whole perspective was thrown by this simple, rambling letter from Darcy's sister. But it did fit…George was a major flirt, and there was always some off…like he was a bit too perfect to be true.

She had to stop. She didn't know George's side of the story. Hell, she didn't even really know Georgi's side of the story. Elizabeth sighed and went back to her computer.

Georgi,

I'm so glad you're coming back to Boston! We all missed you. )

I know that you'll be attacked by college and everything, but I would like to have dinner of lunch with you sometime. So you don't have to keep asking Charlie to ask Jane for my information (I'm amused and flattered that you went to that trouble for me) my cell is:

-- -- --

It's nice to be hearing from you again, and take care!

Lizzy

Elizabeth, after reading through the message, clicked `Send'. Then, glancing at the computer's clock, she decided she had better get going.

The bakery was as busy as ever, but every minute dragged into hours, and the prospect of five o' clock shined ahead as a beacon of freedom. Soon, Elizabeth was so focused on the second hand on the clock that she found that she held little patience for the usual finicky customers. Most of them took offense that Elizabeth paid the clock above their heads more attention than them, and left as soon as they were done eating. Elizabeth was vaguely aware of this, but did not allow her attention to stray too long on anything besides the clock.

“Elizabeth?”

The woman in question jumped when she heard her name. Looking over to the door, she uttered a small exclamation of pleasure of whom she saw there, and then as her gaze locked onto the customer's companion, she inwardly groaned.

Someone must really despise me.

“Georgi!” Elizabeth cried, running out from behind the counter. “It seems like months since I last saw you,” turning her head, “Darcy.” Elizabeth acknowledged him with a nod of her head.

He nodded back.

Eloquent as ever, huh Robot?

Elizabeth turned back to Georgi, who had colored prettily at such a greeting. She looked shyly around at the other customers in the shop who, while mildly surprised that the unknown girl received more attention than the regular customers, were still half-asleep and returned to their coffee cups.

“It has been very long,” Georgi agreed, “But I'm back and craving one of your blueberry muffins!” She smiled brilliantly, and Elizabeth grinned.

“Well, I'll get right on that! Would you like anything, Darcy?”

He looked at her, his utter surprise that she was actually talking to him was plain on his face.

Yes, I know, it's such a shock that I would actually attempt to be civil to you for the sake of your sister. Hell, it's a shock that I would actually be civil, isn't it?

“Uh, I'll have a black coffee.” Darcy eyed her warily.

“Me too, but with cream and sugar, please,” said Georgi.

“Coming right up,” Elizabeth chirped and bobbed a quick curtsey that earned a laugh from Georgi and an astonished stare from Darcy. He continued to stare at her from their table, and she smirked from over the coffee pot. Darcy, apparently having just noticed that she had caught him, turned his head back to Georgi, who was smiling as she talked.

Balancing their order on a tray, Elizabeth strode over their table and laid down the goods.

“How much do we owe you?” Elizabeth heard as she turned away. She looked at him, puzzled.

“I never charge family or friends.” She said, gauging his reaction. Her eyebrows shot toward her hairline as she saw a smile play on his lips.

“Oh,” was all he said.

Weirdo.

With one final glance around the shop, Elizabeth disappeared into the kitchen, deciding that she needed to make some new peanut butter M and M cookies. She was carrying a flour bag over to her workspace when she heard—

“Lizzy! Are you there? Come out of that dreary kitchen, girl!”

It didn't happen slowly like it did in the movies, rather, time accelerated, and Elizabeth had barely registered what was happening until she saw the coat of white dust on her arms, clothing, and most of all, the floor.

“Damn!” She cursed unthinkingly.

“You really shouldn't curse, Lizzy. It repels the few good men, and attracts the many bad.” Her mother's voice sounded again from the front.

Elizabeth's eyes flickered from the floor to the door. She hadn't time to clean herself or the tile up before her Mother exploded, and resolved to just go out there. Her customers, after all, had seen her mother before and Elizabeth covered in flour.

But the Darcy's haven't.

“Damn.” Elizabeth said again and winced as her mother admonished her in turn.

Swallowing, Elizabeth stepped into the fluorescent light of the front, and groaning, saw her mother's eyes widen with horror, her customers' eye's with amusement, and Georgi and Darcy's with shock. Her eyes soon faded to embarrassment for Elizabeth, and his eyes became just as amused as the others. Their entertainment she did not mind, but Darcy's air of smugness bothered her. A lot.

No one said a word, however, and just stared at her for a few moments until Elizabeth put one hand on top of the other and moved her thumbs in a circular motion. “Awkward turtles,” she said, and the room promptly exploded with laughs, eye rolls, and raised eyebrows. Elizabeth just grinned sheepishly back at them. Her smile faded when her mother spoke.

“Lizzy! That's very undignified.” Fanny scolded, placing her hands on her slender hips.

“You realize I've been legally an adult for a while now, right?” Elizabeth asked, straightening her apparel, which only resulted into more flour falling to the floor. Now she would have to clean the floor out here, too.

“Yes, but you don't act like one,” Fanny declared, waving the ever-present Kleenex in her hand. Mrs. Bennet had always been prone to colds.

Elizabeth glared coolly at her mother; arching an eyebrow she crossed her arms defiantly across her chest. “Name one occasion,” She challenged.

“When you teepeed that poor boy's home after he broke up with you.”

Elizabeth looked around the room. All of the customers were politely interested in their food, save one; Darcy was staring at her again with curiosity. She leaned over the counter towards her mother, lowering her voice. “He was a prick!” Elizabeth hissed.

“Prick?” Her mother made no effort to lower her voice. “Well, he might've been so, but he was a lawyer, wasn't he?” Mrs. Bennet asked, already knowing the answer. Elizabeth nodded miserably, and grinning like a Cheshire cat, Fanny continued, “Lawyers make good money. He would've made you a suitable husband.”

Elizabeth saw Darcy tense at the mention of the word `husband', and furrowed her brow. Well, that was just weird. Weirdo.

Her eyes flickering back to her mother, she replied in an offhand manner, “Uh-hum. Did you realize that he cheated on me with some blonde bimbo? As I said, rich prick. He deserved to be teepeed.”

“No one deserves to have his house teepeed.” Mrs. Bennet reprimanded, dragging out each syllable of `deserves'.

“I beg to differ,” Elizabeth smirked, glancing at Darcy. Comprehending that she noticed his scrutiny, he once more lowered his eyes to his coffee cup. Looking at her mother again, Elizabeth inquired, “In any case, why are you here?”

“Oh! Yes, that's right,” Mrs. Bennet fluttered, “You see Lizzy, Suzanne Lucas has a cousin who's brother-in-law's son owns a club right here in Boston! How nice is that?”

A tired “Swell,” was the only response.

Fanny was momentarily affronted at the lack of enthusiasm her daughter held, but continued onward anyway. “Well, he found out that you wear in town, m'dear, and he asked specifically for you! Lizzy, even you've got to admit, it's something to be singled out so.”

“Sure is something; I've always wanted my own personal stalker.” A chorus of giggles bubbled throughout the room, and the grim line that her mouth had set in curled upward in a bitter smile.

“Oh, shush! Kyle is certainly not a stalker! He just wants to hear you sing, for Pete's sake!”

“Pete hardly minds, Mother.”

Mrs. Bennet harrumphed, stiffening at the familiar sentence that her daughter used so often growing up. It was so infuriating, poking fun at her and making others laugh at her supposed stupidity. How cruel her own daughter could be to her.

“Well, if you don't want the information, I suppose I should just leave,” she sniffed, making to turn away.

“I'll do it, I'll do it!” Elizabeth snapped, and Fanny once again flashed her cat-like grin, gave her daughter the information, and left soon afterwards. As Elizabeth mopped the flour off the tile, she heard Georgie address her.

“You sing? Like, in clubs?”

Elizabeth looked up from her intense glare at the floor. Georgi smiled brightly at her, eager for an answer, so she allowed a half smile. “Yeah, just a little extra money on the side. I'm no good, though.”

“Oh, I doubt it.” Elizabeth peered around Georgi to see who had made the comment. Darcy was biting his lip as if he hadn't really meant to speak at all. Elizabeth raised a delicate eyebrow, smiled at Georgi, and excused herself to go clean up.

---