Alternative Medicine

By Xenia

Jump to new as of June 16, 1998

This little story, set in a hospital, is dedicated to Joanna, as a thank you for The Neurology of Love.

Chapter One

iz Bennet sighed and laid down the letter just received from her mother. Dr. Frances Bennet longed for her second and non-medical second daughter to marry and produce grandchildren. She could not imagine what Lizzy was playing at by living with George Wickham and working in an administrative job when she could marry that nice William Collins and have babies. She could not imagine it and said so regularly in every letter and telephone call. Liz, for her part, could not imagine anything more revolting than marrying William Collins and having babies with him.

She was the second the five children of Professor Donald Bennet and his wife, Fanny. He was a retired head of haematology at a leading London teaching hospital and she was senior partner in their local general practice in Buxton, Derbyshire. Her older sister, Jane, was a nurse at Queen's College Hospital; her younger sister, Mary, an intern there; her brother, Kit, a medical student at another London hospital and her youngest sister, Lydia, had just started her RSCN training. In this medical family Liz was something of an anomaly; she had never been good at maths or science, in fact, she had excelled in art and literature at school. Dr. Bennet had thrown up her hands in horror and forced Lizzy to take a course at a commercial college with the words, "if you want to be arty-crafty, young woman, it will not be at our expense." Professor Bennet, ever one for a quiet life, had not protested in Lizzy's defence and so at twenty-two she was working as a secretary at Queen's College Hospital Medical School and wreaking revenge on her mother by living with George Wickham.

She had been promising herself for a year or so to apply to study Fine Art at the Courtauld Institute but had never actually done anything constructive towards it. However, an event had occurred which made her think seriously of getting out her portfolio and updating it. Mrs. Joanna Gardiner, Head of Paediatric Surgery at QCHMS was taking early retirement to spend more time with her husband who had recently suffered a heart attack. Liz had enjoyed working for Mrs. Gardiner but her successor, Mr. Darcy, had such a reputation as to make her seriously reconsider her post at the hospital.

The station platform at Letchworth was cold and the waiting room, as usual, locked. Liz shivered and wondered if there was a problem at Cambridge, the train was never normally so late. It was cold too, Network South-East or whatever it was now calling itself, was not renowned for comfortable trains. She got off it as soon as she could, at Finsbury Park, and took the tube into the centre of London. Call it the metro, darling," her mother said, "there is something so distasteful about 'tube.' Liz smiled comfortably - thank goodness her mother was safely in Derbyshire. She arrived at the hospital just before half past eight and dropped into the WRVS cafe for a cup of tea.

"We're going out to competitive tender," said the lady behind the bar rather sadly.

"Sorry?" Liz thought she was imagining things.

"We're too profitable," she sighed, "the hospital wants to give our space to a commercial cafe - we won't be able to fund rural charity work now."

"How dreadful," agreed Liz. That wasn't why I voted Labour!

She made her way upstairs and through to the teaching block stopping on the way at Ward 19 where Jane was Junior Sister or, unromantically, the Grade F. Jane Bennet was twenty-four, blonde and elegant. It was often remarked that she did not look like a nurse, whatever nurses look like, but she could not have chosen a profession in which to better use the kindness and intelligence she had in abundance. She was standing in the doorway of the Sister's office deep in discussion with Dr. Charles Bingley, Mrs. Gardiner's Senior Registrar. Liz smiled to herself and tiptoed past; Jane was very fond of Charles but his sister had contrived a thousand ways of keeping them apart.

Caroline? Oh, what a thought at this time in the morning!

Mrs. Gardiner was already in her office and beginning to pack. Liz's heart sank. Of course, this way the day Mr. Darcy arrived for the beginning of the handover period. Mr. Darcy, whose reputation for arrogance, sexism and vanity, had preceded him all the way from Edinburgh. She switched on her PC.

"Is he here yet?" she asked.

Mrs. Gardiner shrugged her shoulders, "If he is, I haven't seen him. I imagine he's the type of consultant who wanders in for ward rounds at ten."

"You don't have a high opinion of him," said Liz.

"I don't know him. The reports circulating around the hospital are most favourable - he is tall, handsome and clever with a considerable income."

"One expects consultants to have a considerable income," snapped Liz, " between what the NHS gives them in salary, what they make through teaching and their not inconsiderable private practices!"

Mrs. Gardiner laughed, "You do have a jaundiced opinion of us!"

"Oh, not you!" cried Liz, "You know I don't mean you."

"Let us not judge the man before we've even met him," smiled Mrs. Gardiner, "is George back from that conference in Brighton yet?"

"Thursday," replied Liz sadly, "I miss him when he's away and he's away such a lot... I don't imagine working for Mr. Darcy will be much compensation either."

Notes

Mr/Mrs -- In the UK physicians keep the title of Dr. throughout their careers but surgeons, on reaching a certain level, revert to Mr. or Mrs.

The Courtauld Institute -- A college of the University of London, quite prestigious.

RSCN -- Registered Sick Children's' Nurse

Letchworth -- A little town in Hertfordshire, exactly equidistant between London & Cambridge, England's first garden city

WRVS -- Women's Royal Voluntary Service

"I have to be in theatre at 9.00," sighed Mrs. Gardiner, "the little Nicholls boy, you remember?"

Liz nodded, "Yes, I remember. Who typed all the letters to his parents? I do hope it goes well."

"I believe it will," replied Mrs. Gardiner. She left and Liz continued to pack her things with an increasingly heavy heart; Joanna Gardiner had made secretarial work pleasant but she was certain that Mr. Darcy would not.

He'll be the archetypal male chauvinist pig. I'll spend half my life making coffee and the other half ordering flowers for his women!

The phone rang. She picked it up, "Mrs. Gardiner's office."

"Oh, I was looking for Mr. Darcy," said the voice.

"Not yet," said Elizabeth sweetly and hung up. Oh, why, why, why do I feel so resentful of this man? It isn't his fault she's taking early retirement, I might as well blame Edward for having a heart attack!"

The phone rang a second time. "Mrs. Gardiner's office."

"Don't you mean Mr Darcy's office/" demanded a cattish tone.

"Miss Bingley!" said Elizabeth brightly, "I am sorry to disappoint you but this is Joanna's office until the end of the week."

A friend of Caroline's - oh, I knew there was something despicable about him!

She suffocated a sigh and continued to put Mrs. Gardiner's books into boxes. As if losing Joanna wasn't bad enough without the hospital replacing her with a friend of Caroline Bingley's."

"Her lover, even," she said aloud and put her head in her hands, "how shall I cope?"

Caroline and Liz were ardent enemies and had been since Liz realize that it was Caroline's influence that had prevented Dr. Charles Bingley from continuing his tentative relationship with her sister, Jane. Jane was not good enough for Caroline, she wanted her brother to marry someone altogether more sophisticated and successful and a young nurse however bright and talented was simply not good enough. Doctor and nurse romances as she had pointed out were rather tacky and Jane was not going to ingratiate her way into the Bingley family in that way. Liz had never met anyone quite as snobbish as Caroline Bingley but Mr. Darcy promised to be close competition. After several moments spent thinking that way, she realized it was time to meet Jane for coffee and made her way downstairs to the staff canteen.

"You look miserable." said Jane, "Liz, you have to get out of here. I can understand you taking a secretarial course and working in an office as a stop-gap but it's time you started using some of your potential.

"I don't know what to do!"

"Well, think back, what did you want to do before Frances started pressuring you to go into medicine or nursing?

"I can't remember... Oh, who's that guy with Charles Bingley?"

"The new head of Paed - your new boss."

Liz smiled, "Don't remind me. What do you know about him?"

"He's 37, originally from Edinburgh, did pre-med at Cambridge and medicine at St Thomas's; he's just been made Consultant and is reputedly quite brilliant."

"If he's so brilliant why hasn't he made Consultant sooner?"

"He took a couple of years out to work at that centre in Hungary where they do miracles with handicapped children."

"Oh, I see. A saint with the kind of looks that will have half the women in the hospital drooling disgustingly over my desk with various excuses for seeing him!"

Jane giggled, Yes, he is very handsome, and we aren't the only women in the canteen staring at him!

Liz glared down at her plate. "You certainly seem to know a lot about him on his first day."

"Well, you did ask and I do have to talk to Charles about something."

"You don't seem to be making much headway with Charles."

Jane shrugged her shoulders, "I think I have to accept that Charles and I will never be more than friendly colleagues."

Liz scowled, "He liked you so much before..."

"Before what?" asked Jane sharply.

"Before Caroline wheedled her way into Nigel's job."

Jane smiled and waved a finger at her sister, "Liz... she did not wheedle her way into anyone's job. Nigel Chandler had left for greener pastures long before Caroline arrived."

"I beg your pardon," said Liz, "Nigel Chandler was a really nice guy, I liked him a lot, why does this hospital always replace people I like with people I don't?"

"Lizzy, Lizzy, I am sure they do not do it deliberately!"

Liz laughed, "Oh, I suppose so."

"And you have not even met Mr. Darcy."

"I don't want to meet Mr. Darcy."

"Liz, I cannot believe you are being so prejudiced."

Liz stood up, "I am not being prejudiced, Jane. Guess who he's seeing?"

Jane groaned, "You said I knew a lot about him for his first day..."

"Caroline Bingley!"

"My patients need me," said Jane wearily, "I wish you weren't having a vendetta with Caroline. It doesn't help me."

Chapter 2

Liz managed to successfully avoid Mr. Darcy during most of the handover period. She knew it was wrong and that she should be getting to know him and discussing the smooth running of the office but she felt she would get to know him soon enough and that there was no point in anticipating the event which promised to be unpleasant enough.

Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof. She thought vindictively.

Jane remonstrated with her occasionally about her prejudice in regard to Mr. Darcy but Liz was implacable. He was rude and vain, everyone said so, and he was a friend of Caroline Bingley.

"Just because she phoned him doesn't mean they're particularly close," said Jane sensibly.

Liz pursed up her mouth unbecomingly and made herself look like her mother. "She has been glued to him since the day he arrived!"

"I think she likes him more than he likes her," replied Jane, "oh, hi Lydia."

They moved over to let Lydia join them. "Who is more interested in who?" she enquired anxiously.

"Caroline Bingley and Mr. Darcy," said Jane.

Lydia sighed heavily enough to almost pop the buttons on her uniform, "I know what you mean - he is gorgeous."

Liz shrugged her shoulders, "It's a match made in hell and I can't imagine two people more deserving of it. I'm thrilled for both parties but he needn't expect me to order roses for her."

Jane laughed, "Lizzy, I do believe if Mr. Darcy orders roses for Caroline that she will respond by ordering her wedding dress!"

Liz managed to smile. This is just the kick I need to get me out of here. "See you tonight at Joanna's leaving party."

"Oh, Lord!" cried Lydia, "I had forgotten all about the party and I have nothing to wear!"

"Must be the first time you've ever forgotten a party," remarked Liz.

Lydia groaned in fashion obsessed anguish, "I've got that black suede mini - do you think I could wear it? And my black velvet bra and satin knee-high boots, what do you think, Lizzy?"

"I'm surprised at you wanting my opinion," laughed Liz, "nice selection of textures though."

"Lydia... Lydia..." interrupted Jane anxiously, "I think you have forgotten something - you need a blouse."

"No, I haven't," said Lydia, "but there is no good wearing solid fabric or no-one will see my velvet bra... I know! I'll borrow Marie Lucas's sheer lime green blouse with the satin collar and cuffs... s'cuse me while I go and find her."

She grabbed Liz's diet coke and waltzed out in search of her friend and fashion soulmate almost pushing over Mary on the way.

"What is with her?" demanded Mary indignantly as she set down her tray of virtuously arranged salads and disposed of the remains of Lydia's pie and chips.

"Don't even ask," said Jane with a pitiful look at Liz, "What can we do? She can't possibly go the party dressed like that!"

"She can and she will," replied Liz grimly. "I wish Dad had kept her at home and made her do her nurse training in Derby. I tried to speak to him about her when she applied to London and warned him about how she would behave when she got here but all he could say was she would never be happy until she had made an exhibition of herself and he would rather she did not do it in Buxton."

"That was good of him," Mary stabbed a radish, "he allowed her to run wild and now he doesn't want to be embarrassed so we must be!"

"That's about the sum of it," replied Liz as Jane stood up. They walked together to the lifts and Liz could not but realize there was something far deeper worrying Jane than Lydia's atrocious taste in clothes.

"What is it, Janey? You've seen Lydia on the razzle before and survived."

"I know but Dad is wrong when he says you and I will be respected and admired by everyone in spite of having two silly sisters and Kit for a brother. It isn't like that. People do care about who your family are and how they conduct themselves."

"For 'people' should I read 'Charles'?" asked Liz gently.

Jane nodded, "Yes, he asked me to have dinner with him on Tuesday but when he sees Lydia tonight dressed like a Spice Girl and getting drunk... and... Kit will turn up and drink everything in sight and do something perfectly dreadful like grope Caroline... Oh, Lizzy, Charles will never want to involve himself with me when he sees my family tonight!"

Liz murdered the smile that wanted to jump up at the thought of Kit trying his hand with Miss Bingley but she could find no real grounds for contradiction in Jane's assessment of their family. Nice men had vanished before on being introduced to them. Her heart sank as she pictured Mary buttonholing the most prestigious doctor in the room, probably Mr. Darcy, and showing off; Kit getting legless and pretending to be George Clooney and, yes, Lydia looking and acting like a slut.

"Do we know anyone at the Royal Hertford we could blackmail into putting Kit on duty tonight?" she smiled.

"Don't even pretend to joke, Lizzy." Jane was almost in tears and for the millionth time Liz called down the wrath of heaven on her parents for bringing up her younger brother and sisters so badly. Surely by the 1970's contraceptives were sufficiently advanced for doctors of all people not to have more children than they could manage!

Part 3

Liz left work early and rushed home to change. She had considered bringing her evening clothes to work and changing there or at Jane's flat but in the end wanted to give herself an excuse to go home in case George phoned.

He knows about the party, she fretted, why doesn't he make more of an effort?

She dressed with more than usual care in the hope of impressing Dr. Bingley to Jane's advantage. He will see that at least two of us are elegant and as for Mary, well, a Marks & Spencer dress, flat sandals and pearls may not be chic but they could never embarrass anyone. If I can keep Mary quiet I will only have Kit and Lyddy to worry about.

The phone rang and she grabbed it excitedly, "Hi, George!"

"Uh, sorry," said the voice, "it's me, Andrew Denny."

"Hello, Andrew, it's lovely to hear from you." Liz poured as much of a smile as she could into the receiver; she liked Dr. Andrew Denny very much although he could be a little giddy and was very friendly with Lydia.

"I thought you might like a lift to the party," he continued, "I pretty well have to drive past Letchworth from Foxton and you don't want to wear your gladrags on the train."

"Thank you, that's really kind, I'll be ready by half-six."

She replaced the handset and smiled at her reflection in the hall mirror. Of course, Andrew is sweet on Lydia and she needs very little encouragement to take up with any good-looking bloke... and as Marie Lucas is already dating Steven Carter...

The drive back to QCH was pleasant; Andrew talked and giggled most of the way and she listened to about half of it. Yes, he was definitely silly enough for Lydia even if he was remarkably likable in every other respect.

Jane was fussing about outside the hospitality suite where the party was being hosted. Liz glanced through the door, "Crazy, isn't it, hospitals spending money on hospitality suites when they can't equip operating suites?"

"Oh, Liz, not now!" cried Jane, "Sort out my zip, it's all wrong at the back."

Liz could find nothing wrong with Jane's zip; the pale blue embroidered shift dress hung as perfectly on her size ten figure as it had on the mannequin in Monsoon's window that lunch-time.

"Your dress is perfect," she smiled, "Charles will be enchanted."

"Jane!" Caroline Bingley's insincere tones rang out behind them. Liz frowned, she hoped Caroline had not heard her remark about Charles as she had only just allowed a lull in her plans to keep them apart.

"Hello, Caroline," smiled Jane. She could never be persuaded of Caroline's malicious intent towards her. "I thought you would be with Mr. Darcy."

"I am," purred Caroline, "he will be here this minute with my brother and my married sister. Have you met Louise?"

Jane shook her head and Caroline whisked her through the door, "I know Martin Forster is just desperate to see you... he couldn't talk about anything else all day..."

So that's the game, is it? thought Liz, to have Jane in the clutches of that old goat before Charles even gets through the door. How good of Mr. Darcy to detain him while she does it!

She walked rapidly to where Caroline and Jane stood together with Professor Forster omitting to pick up a drink on the way.

"Hello, Professor!"

"Liz, it's good to see you again!"

Ugh, hateful man. I think you mean it's good to see my chest again.

Caroline frowned anxiously; she had not intended to have Liz Bennet stealing Professor Forster's attention away from Jane.

"Oh, Liz, you don't have a drink. You should have collected one from the table by the door," she smiled and indicated the drinks table which, manned by Andrew Denny and Steve Carter, could not be missed by anyone in possession of eyes or ears.

"Let me, let me..." began Professor Forster but that wasn't quite what Miss Bingley had planned either so she yanked at his cuff and asked a complicated question about a new treatment ruling she was reasonably sure he had never heard of.

Liz grinned, she had spotted Dr. Bingley briefly through the glass door, he would be entering the room any minute.

"Jane, why are you drinking white wine?" she chided, "You know you don't like it. Here, I'll take it and you can get yourself another one."

"But Lizzy, I always...."

Liz took the glass anyway and a puzzled Jane set off for the drinks table, the door and Dr. Bingley followed hastily by her now quite furious friend. She downed the wine quickly and watched as Charles introduced Jane to Mr. Darcy in undoubtedly glowing terms and was disappointed to see that his response was the merest good manners could get away with. God knows what Caroline has told him about us.

She managed to extricate herself from Professor Forster and joined the Gardiners and some of their friends.

"Looks like the whole hospital is turning out," remarked Mr. Gardiner who was quite immensely proud of his wife and at least as sorry as he was grateful that she was taking early retirement for his sake.

Liz followed his survey of the quickly filling room noting with satisfaction that Jane was still with Charles; Miss Bingley still with Mr. Darcy and that Kit and Lydia were nowhere to be seen. Mary had forced Professor Forster into a corner and had produced a notebook out of her beaded purse; Liz wondered if she had no sense of smell, his breath was so odious and yet she was so close. However, her own trial was about to begin and its perpetrator smelled at least as bad.

"Liz, my love..."

Liz recoiled, "William Collins, I am not your 'love', how often must I tell you?"

He rolled his eyes piously and smiled, "I know you like me, and call me Toodles - everyone does."

He moved closer and Liz, getting a distinct whiff of BO, found herself with her back firmly against a wall.

"To be absolutely honest, I would prefer to call you Mr. Collins and to have you call me Miss Bennet."

He moved closer and sniggered, "You are a funny girl, Liz. I took the liberty of phoning your mother last night and we had a little chat about you..."

"You what?"

Toodles looked a little taken a back, "I phoned your mother," he repeated, "and she says you are to bring me to Buxton with you on your next long weekend. I then phoned my mother and she has invited you to Frimton-on-Sea this weekend!"

"Frimton-on-Sea," repeated Liz. God, how often must I be invited to meet his tedious family?

"Mr. Collins, what is your mother's first name?"

"Pearl," he replied anxiously, "but you should call her Mrs. Collins, neither of my parents feel it is right to be on first name terms with young people."

How pretentious! "It's all right, Mr Collins, I merely required her initial for the envelope."

"Oh, you are going to write to her! I can just imagine you and mother being penpals, you will love her and I have no doubt she will share some of her recipes with you, there is nothing on earth like mother's chocolate madeira cake... We bake cakes every Saturday night when I go home and, darling, I can assure you you will not leave Frimton without a jar, dare I say, several jars of her delicious home-made jam and chutney."

Liz realized to her embarrassment that Mr. Darcy had moved closer to her and was overlistening Toodles effusion with some merriment. She caught his eye and blushed furiously.

"Mr. Collins, I promise you I do not intend to enter into a long-term correspondence with your mother but merely to thank her for her many invitations to Frimton-on-Sea and save her the trouble of issuing any more in future as you so obviously do not understand what I mean when I say no."

For a second she thought she had cracked his impenetrable thickness but he merely smiled greasily and, moving even closer, giggled.

"You will come to Frimton some day, Lizzy dearest, and when you do I know you and mother will adore each other!"

"Excuse me, I must find my sister," was all she managed to say before she pushed him out of her path. Unfortunately he seemed to regard that as an expression of affection and regarded her warmly for several seconds before turning to Mr. Darcy and assuring him in the most fervid manner of his mother's admiration for Mr. Darcy's aunt. It took Mr. Darcy some little while to work out that Mr. Collins' mother was the President of Frimton-on-Sea Amateur Dance Theatre so, presumably, the aunt to which he referred was Lady Catherine de Bourgh, Patroness of the internationally acclaimed New English Ballet. He made his excuses as quickly as possible and returned to Caroline.

"Shall you be quite safe here, Mr. Darcy?" she smirked having observed his conversation with Mr. Collins.

"Provided they are not all as far out of their minds as he is," responded Mr. Darcy.

Caroline cast a casual, contemptuous glance at Toodles Collins. "Dear goodness, yes. He is a most feeble-minded man but unfortunately he has a good deal of control over the finances in both your department and mine."

"Then I had better keep on good terms with my new secretary, then?" he said jokingly.

"Mr. Collins is a favourite of her mother, I do not believe he is of much interest to the lady herself."

"On the contrary," he replied, "I have just overheard him asking her home for the weekend and she said she would write to his mother."

Caroline's eyes widened, "You must be wrong, Fitzwilliam, Liz Bennet wouldn't look twice at that empty-headed lech, besides she's living with George Wickham."

A look of such astonishment and anger passed over his face as to almost make her shudder.

"George Wickham is one of our senior pharmacists," she continued weakly, "for God's sake, Fitzwilliam, don't look at me like that, you frighten me."

"I would not have you frightened of me," he replied with a smile and kissed her hand lightly, "let's join Charles and his pretty girlfriend."

Caroline nearly remarked that Jane Bennet was not Charles's girlfriend and never would be, but having seen Mr. Darcy angry for the first time she did not feel equal to inspiring it for a second time by an imprudent remark. She counseled herself to make clear to Mr. Darcy her excellent objections to Jane Bennet sometime soon and meanwhile contented herself with having his company and a kissed hand. Her happiness was short-lived because within two moments of singling Jane out for some particularly insincere compliments her pager shrieked and demanded her presence in Casualty.

"Shall I join you?" enquired Mr. Darcy but Charles was having none of it.

"Don't you even think about it, Wills. You were invited here by Joanna Gardiner and you will stay and make yourself generally so sociable and charming that everyone will consider you a worthy replacement for her."

Caroline bit her lip, the tears rising in her eyes were unprofessional and immature; senior physicians do not cry like schoolgirls. "The casualty might be a child," she murmured, "and I will have to page Fitzwilliam anyway."

Charles grinned and shook his head, "No, I fancy Joanna Gardiner will take that call, in fact you would be hard pressed to prevent her!"

Caroline turned and ran out of the room; she ran partly to make it to the Casualty department ahead of the ambulance and partly to avoid being seen with tears splashing down her face by a crowd of people very few of whom liked her.

Alternative Medicine 4

"Liz, what are you doing in a corner all alone?" the voice belonged to Cheryl Lewis, Chief Medical Records Officer and her oldest friend in London.

"Hiding from Toodles Collins," she replied, "and watching Jane and Charles."

"A voyeuse?" remarked Cheryl with mock sarcasm, "I would never have thought it of you."

Liz grinned broadly, "I stalk handsome men too, given the chance."

"Then why are you involved with George Wickham?" came the sharp reply.

"Oh, Cherry, let's not go into that again. Look at Jane, look how happy she is."

Cheryl sighed, "You and I can see she is happy, Liz, because we know her but I am afraid that a stranger might think her no more than averagely content with her situation. Her expression is too serene, her personality too uniformly cheerful and nothing special is getting through to Charles."

"Nonsense!"

"It is not nonsense, Liz. She is too reserved, she is not making him feel special and as he is rather insecure at the best of times she is not being wise."

Liz rolled her eyes, "Cherry, do you want her to drool and slobber over the poor man in full view of a couple of hundred of their colleagues?"

Cheryl giggled, "Well, no not quite, but I think she should show more enthusiasm if she is to keep his attention."

"Jane is not like that. She is taking things slowly and making sure it is right for her - and for him."

"I admire her courage and her altruism," replied Miss Lewis, "but the fact remains, if she does not spoil him he will think she is not interested."

"I think that is another area where we can never agree," sighed Liz, "why do you think it is, Cherry, that we agree on everything except love and relationships?"

"Because you are a romantic and I am not," replied Cherry simply.

"I guess that must be it," said Liz with a little shrug, "have you been introduced to my new boss, yet? Isn't he the proudest and most disagreeable of men?"

"Well, I admit he doesn't look like much of a fun-bunny but I prefer to reserve judgment until I know him better."

"You are too prudent for your own good, or at least for my good, who shall I have to criticize him to if you are so intent on being just?"

Cheryl waggled her finger, "Take my advice, girl," she did a splendid impression of Frances Bennet, "and do not allow your infatuation with George Wickham to blind you to a man of at least ten times his consequence!"

Liz doubled choking on her ice, "Cher.. Cherry.. don't, oh, you are too good, that is exactly what she would say!"

"Exactly what who would say?" demanded Lydia appearing from the crowd.

"Lydia, oh, Lydia!" cried Cherry.

"Cher says I am not..." Liz was still laughing, "I am not to... allow my infat-uation with George to make me...slight Mr. Darcy who is of ten times his consequence!"

"What a stupid expression!" said Lydia with a contemptuous glare at Cheryl, "George is a really nice guy, Lizzy, you would be a tube to ditch him for Mr. Darcy."

"A what?" said Liz straightening up and opening her eyes, "when did tube become an in word again?"

"It didn't," replied Lydia, "it just seemed appropriate. Look at it this way, Liz: you're Princess Leia, George is Luke Skywalker and he," she jerked her thumb over her shoulder in Mr. Darcy's direction, "is Darth Vader."

"Aaaaaaaaaagh," Liz slid down the wall, "Darth Vader!"

"Liz, wake up, smell the coffee... look at your sister!"

Liz took Cheryl's advice but Lydia was already staggering drunkenly in the direction of Steve Carter.

"A cerise petticoat," she moaned, "black tights... pink platforms..."

"Miss Selfridge calls them slip dresses," grinned Cheryl.

Liz winced, "It's polyester, short, strappy and has ribbon roses where the neckline should be - it's a petticoat!"

"Mmmm," remarked Cheryl, "makes me wonder what my slutty little sister is wearing. Excuse me while I look for Marie."

Liz nodded weakly. She made her way over to the drinks table where Andrew Denny was still chatting away to a nurse from Oncology.

So much for you keeping Lydia's attention!

Fortunately it seemed that Lydia had not been seen by Jane and Charles who were happily chatting away in a group that contained the Gardiners and Mr. Darcy. Caroline, too, had reappeared, a white coat spoiling her chic black dress.

Poor thing, thought Liz unkindly, you couldn't bear to be away from him long enough to take that off or are you reminding him that as a consultant you are his equal and every other pretty woman in the room his inferior?

She glanced around and spotted Kit. He was immaculately turned out in blazer and flannels, at least some of Frances's advice was good, and was regaling a tall, slender strawberry blonde with a doubtless very silly story. Liz smirked, under normal circumstances she would have rescued the poor creature but tonight she was too anxious for Kit to be kept happy and sober. She did not want him pretending to be on the set of ER again, the last episode stuck too deeply in her memory.

With any luck Lydia is already tucked up in the back of Steve Carter's car, she thought with a disappointed glance at Andrew Denny, you at least you have entertained her indoors but then perhaps the dress put you off. I don't blame you.

Chapter 5

Almost a week later Miss Bingley was still worrying about Liz Bennet having had the nerve to shout at Mr Darcy in his own office. She had expected the loathsome girl to be transferred, that was what usually happened to people who contradicted Mr Darcy. They mysteriously found their way to other departments.

"You are rather distant tonight," she said fretfully when they finally reached their restaurant. Miss Bingley, being unable to cook, had so far not found an innocent sounding reason to persuade him back to her flat. She hoped to think of one soon.

He, however, was at satiation point with a woman whose brilliance seemed confined to her appearance and her abilities as a surgeon and had not spilled over into her personality. They had met at medical school and had dated off and on in a rather haphazard fashion ever since. In principle she was his ideal woman; slender and regal with a good mind, impeccable taste and a brilliant career but recently he had realized there was something missing. He had even gone as far as to wonder if, perhaps, a less glamorous woman in more mundane occupation might not be a more psychologically rewarding girlfriend.

There was something lacking in Caroline but he wasn't yet sure what it was. If he hadn't been so involved with her he would have said it was depth, in short, she had all the originality of a xerox machine. The day they met she had picked up one of his Maria Callas tapes with the words, "I simply love Callas," and he had been impressed although sceptical,no-one loved Callas as much as he did. Later when he found out she had never knowingly listened to a single note by his favourite soprano he had still been flattered to learn that she had rushed out and bought every recording Raeburn's had on offer for his sake. It was strange, he reflected, how the things that had impressed him ten years ago were tedious today. She had poured herself into his BMW that afternoon and picking up a CD immediately said, "I simply love Tavener," and he knew as surely as he knew anything that if he said, "Let's go and hear Status Quo at Hammersmith," she would respond with, "I simply love Status Quo."

"I was just thinking of the effect a pair of fine eyes in the face of a pretty woman can have," he said dreamily before realizing it was not an appropriate remark. Caroline's eyes, although an unusual shade of green, were not her best feature.

"Thinking of Julia Roberts?" she said with a mixture of insecurity and sarcasm.

"No, Liz Bennet," he responded wickedly for the sake of seeing her reaction.

"Chardonnay," said Caroline to the waiter in a matter of fact tone that belied the shattering of her heart. Had she heard aright? Had Fitzwilliam, who was notoriously fastidious about women, really praised his secretary?

She forced herself to smile, "Alright, Wills, you are in love. I don't mind if I don't get an invitation to the wedding but please may I be there when you introduce her to your Aunt Catherine?"

He shook his head, "Caro, you are too much. Please order dinner and resist marrying me to Miss Bennet or anyonelse."

"I would be only too glad if Charles shared your sentiments," she said.

"Charles? Surely Charles has chosen the only Bennet sister worth having?" As he said that an unwelcome vision of Liz Bennet with her dark curls and flashing eyes intruded on his imagination; he pushed it away and concentrated determinedly on Caroline.

She transmuted a grimace into a perfect smile. How could Fitzwilliam Darcy, the most perfect of men, a man whom she had been accustomed to think of as faultless, be as obtuse as the rest of his sex?

"You said yourself she was a little too cool," she said chidingly.

"Coolness, modesty, whatever..."

Caroline shook her dark head determinedly, "Not cool, Wills, everyone in the hospital calls her the Ice Maiden. Jane Bennet is cold, cold to the core and Charles will find that out to his cost."

"Caro, you are not making sense."

"I mean Jane Bennet will let him make a fool of himself over her and then simply drop him! It's what she does!"

"Really?" Darcy's face darkened a little; he had seen Charles in love before and had started to believe this time was different but if Caroline was telling the truth it would only be different in that Charles, instead of escaping unscathed as usual, would have a broken heart. Caroline noted his expression; Darcy loved Charles, there was no doubt about that, he was the brother he had never had.

"She strung Andrew Denny along," continued Caroline, slowly, "he hasn't dated anyone for over a year."

That was half true; in the twelve months she had been at Queen's she had never seen Andrew Denny with a girl but then she had never heard of him being involved with Jane Bennet either.

"Andy's a decent bloke," he said sadly, "I think I had better speak to Charles, I should have realized she was too good to be true given the rest of her family."

Caroline dismissed Mary and Lydia with a single swipe at their lack of decorum but with Liz she had to be more careful. She had seen the way he had been looking at her when she had burst in on their argument and it had been a little unnerving; there had been a certain colour in his face, a brightness about his eyes that she had never seen before and coupled with his remark about Liz's eyes it seemed a dangerous situation for her.

"I told you about Liz and George Wickham, didn't I?" she said, making her way slowly through a potential minefield. She had done some thinking about George Wickham since she had almost incurred Mr Darcy's wrath by mentioning him and she had remembered where she had seen him before... indeed, how had she forgotten?

"Yes," he said sharply. A little too sharply.

"She inherited him from Jane, he's had both of them," she narrowed her eyes almost imperceptibly and watched him. He made no effort to disguise his abhorrence.

"That is a disgusting suggestion, Caro," he said. She smiled inwardly; he wasn't disgusted by the phrase but by the fact.

It wasn't a fact, of course, but Jane had been involved with George Wickham. She had had dinner with him once.

"Nevertheless," she said and paused to smile at the waiter who brought their food, "Liz Bennet is madly in love with George Wickham, she lives with him and she'd marry him tomorrow if she could. Even if Jane were decent we wouldn't want him involved with that? Would we?"

"Certainly not," responded Darcy through clenched teeth.

Caroline smiled in relief; thank God there was something true to say, Liz Bennet was living with George Wickham and so presumably she wanted to marry him.

"She'd been through half the hospital before she settled with him," Caroline was on safe ground now and she knew it. He loathed promiscuity. "Steve Carter, Elliot Crawford, Mark Daniels... goodness, William Collins must be the only man under fifty she hasn't slept with!"

"And Jane is the same?"

Caroline rolled her eyes, "You should get Cherry Lewis to tell you what they were like at Lydia's age... the only difference between them and Lydia is that they have grown up and she hasn't."

Naturally Cherry Lewis would tell him no such thing but he was hardly likely to ask her. As for Lydia, well, Lydia was the talk of the male changing room and even Mr Darcy must have heard the stories by now.

"You must be the only person in the whole of Queen's not to have heard about Jane and Professor Forster... heavens, Wills, he only survived by the skin of his teeth. Where are your ears?"

She knew very well that he deliberately stopped his ears to that sort of thing. He'd never hear the whole story, never know that the identity of the nurse with whom the Professor had done indecent things in the car park was unknown, never think that the evidence of a white uniform proved it wasn't dear Jane because paediatric nurses don't wear uniforms...

The rest of the evening went quite well. He promised her he'd talk to Charles about Jane and even hinted at asking personnel for a new secretary. Liz Bennet's fine eyes were not referred to again. Indeed Caroline was not disappointed until the very end when he deposited her on her door step with no more than a brotherly kiss on the cheek. She watched him drive off with a sense of depression, had she been able to read his thoughts she might have exchanged depression for desperation.

He glanced at himself briefly in the driving mirror, Fitzwilliam Darcy, you are a fool. Thirty-seven years old and it takes until now to realize that brains and beauty are not all that matter in a woman! And the woman who proved it to you is the doubtless immoral and avaricious girlfriend of George Wickham.

Chapter 6

Caroline Bingley was at work early the next morning, she always was. A woman in a man's world cannot afford to relax and Caroline was little short of obsessive about proving herself. She had been vaguely aware eighteen years that women comprised about fifty percent of entrants to British medical schools but she was acutely aware now that she was one of the less than ten percent that make it to the top in surgery. Casualty was quiet; she spoke at length with the night shift and then wandered along to Mr Darcy's office but he was not in; he was more senior, a head of department rather than an deputy head, and he was a man. She shook her head dismally at his locked door and returned to her own office to dash off an affectionate email.

Liz was at her desk by nine but didn't see her boss except for a tiny window between ward rounds and theatre. He looked at her oddly, indeed, he seemed unable not to look at her. She was puzzled by the look; it wasn't his usual arrogant disdain but it neither was it anger, it certainly wasn't approbation and in the end she was forced to think it was disappointment. As if he thought I was better than I am.

He returned from theatre and announced more electronic junk mail in his box. Liz reminded him it was Wednesday, Mr Collins' day for self-expression and almost caught a flicker of a smile about his lips but it vanished so quickly she couldn't be quite sure.

"I'll sort it all out after my break," she said.

He nodded tersely and she left the room unaware of how long he stood looking at her desk and thinking about her. The photographs of Jane, her parents, her dog and various favourite scenes suggested an ordinary girl from a happy family... the father seemed familiar from somewhere... he frowned, unable to remember. He picked up the book he had seen her reading during her break the previous afternoon, John Donne? It was full of little pencilled notes, her thoughts and comments, every one of them evidence of deep feeling. How could a corrupt and dissolute mind appreciate John Donne? He laid the book down with a terrible sense of misgiving.

Meanwhile Liz had made her way to the WRVS canteen and sitting in a corner alone was Jane. She stopped in the doorway and smiled at the unexpected vision of her sister in pale blue trousers and tee-shirt with her golden curls fixed on top of her head apparently with a biro pen. Her red pinafore with its "Sister Jane" daisy badge lay folded neatly beside her. Liz smiled, Charles Bingley is the luckiest man alive, she said to herself. Jane, however, had been crying.

Liz's heart skipped a beat, "Janey, what's wrong?" she said gently, aware that one of Jane's little patients might have died.

Jane looked up briefly before resuming a fixed stare at her tea cup. "It's Charles," she said at length.

"What about Charles?" demanded Liz.

"Last night he kissed me, Lizzy, and I know this will sound corny but stars came out, it was like I had never been kissed before..."

"And?" Liz couldn't keep the tremor out of her voice, "And what has happened since?"

Jane was silent but her tears were almost all the information Liz needed.

"He was in my office when I arrived this morning," she murmured between sobs, "and he said, very simply but very firmly, that it wouldn't work out between us..."

An icy fist crushed Liz's heart; she felt sick, cold and frightened. How could Charles be so cruel? Her instinctive reply to her own question was that there was more to it, but what?

She stayed with Jane as long as she could and returned to her own office with another headache and the grim prospect of dealing with a hundred nonsensical missives from Toodles Collins. The sight that met her was even worse than the thought, for there on her desk, sat Toodles like a grotesque garden gnome deprived of his fishing rod. He jumped off when he saw her come in, "Liz, Liz... I rented Sleepless in Seattle, I thought I could cook you dinner and we would watch it together."

Liz groaned, would Collins never understand the "no" word?

"Mr Collins," she said firmly, "I have rented The Full Monty and I am taking it home to watch with George. You remember George, don't you?"

Please remember George. Remember he's a lot bigger and fitter than you are...

He oozed down into her extra chair and grinned happily, "Your mother says George is a stop-gap."

"My mother doesn't know me," answered Liz as she logged into Mr Darcy's mailbox, "she wouldn't recognize me if I walked in to her in Buxton High Street."

"That's not funny," he protested, "you should value your relationship with your mother. You only get one mother. Now my mother..."

Shut up!

He droned on for a few minutes oblivious to the fact that she wasn't listening to him and was actually deleting all the information he had spend the morning searching out for the benefit of her boss. Briefly aware that he had got on to a story about how his mother met the doyenne of English dance, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, she ran her eye down the inbox and noted with relief that there was no more Mr Collins there at least.

"Of course she is such a great lady," he was saying, "so condescending, so interested in mother's little dance group..."

The Geratol Follies of Frimton. "Really, Mr Collins?"

"Mmmmm, really. Want a pan-drop? Well, Lady Catherine said... You do know she was the protege of Dame Ninette de Valois, don't you? They say her sister, Anne Darcy, could have been equally brilliant but she married..."

He slurped revoltingly on his peppermint and Liz turned her attention back to the email with the wicked thought of amusing herself at Miss Bingley's expense while Toodles took the hint. She had learned that he interpreted firm rebuffs as affection and that the best thing to do was let him rattle on until he remembered his stomach or bladder or something and trotted off "for a moment" during which she would make her escape.

She clicked with interest on the latest from [e-mail], entitled, "We did it, we did it, we really, truly did it!" They did what? she thought, barely able to keep herself from giggling.

You must realize you have made me the happiest of women! I dropped by Charles's office this morning and whatever you said to him about Jane Bennet has worked like a charm. It was barely eight o'clock and he had already told her he didn't want to see her again! If you were here, I would kiss you! I have been trying to put him off that little trollope for months and you do it in just one night - bravo Wills!

It was too much to bear. Caroline and Mr Darcy had conspired to break up Charles and Jane... she put her head in her hands and was horrified to find herself weeping profusely.

"Liz? Liz?" Toodles' anxious voice sounded miles away, "Liz?" he tried to prize her hands away from her face and feeling the warmth of her tears knelt down on the floor beside her, "Liz, for God's sake tell me what's the matter? I know I'm a bit hopeless but I really do care."

She continued to weep hysterically, this time into the shoulder of his hideous gingham shirt while he read the contents of the screen over her head, "That's horrible," he said, "Jane doesn't deserve that... Dr Bingley doesn't deserve Jane..."

Liz sat up and started fixing it so that Mr Darcy wouldn't know she'd been reading.

"You haven't seen this," she warned Toodles sternly.

He shook his head, "No, and I wish I hadn't! Here, have a hanky... and a pan-drop."

Liz took the hanky reluctantly, it looked as if he had had his lunch wrapped in it but he was trying to be kind and kindness seemed to be in short supply just then.

"I'll get Cherry for you," he said awkwardly, "I don't think you should be alone..."

Liz was alone for a long time. Toodles had obviously stopped off at the canteen on his way to Medical Records but finally Cherry arrived full of concern and comfort.

"Charles Bingley is not such a fool," she said firmly as she helped Liz on with her coat, "he'll see the error of his decision."

"She's better off without him!" snapped Liz, "What kind of man is he? What kind of guy over the age of fourteen dumps a girl because his best mate doesn't like her?"

"There's more to it than that," sighed Cherry.

"Too true!" responded Liz, "And believe me, I mean to find out what. Cherry, make sure Toodles doesn't tell the entire hospital."

"I'm sure he won't," said Cherry, kindly, "he's a thick-skinned klutz, Lizzy, but he hasn't got an evil bone in his body. If it makes you happy though, I'll treat him to a coffee and doughnut later and make sure he understands how important it is."

Chapter 7

Posted on Tuesday, 16 June 1998

She hung around the car park for what seemed like an age waiting for George. He arrived at long last clutching a huge wad of papers and smiling, "I have Forster on my back again," he smiled and leaned down to kiss her.

She responded gratefully. George, with his honey blond hair and seductive green eyes, seemed like a rescuing angel.

"It's not the end of the world, Liz," he said as he unlocked the car for her, "Jane is too sensible to break her heart."

"How do you know about it?" she asked in surprise.

"The whole hospital knows," he replied, "cold, isn't it? Want the heater on?"

"Collins!" she spat, "I knew I couldn't trust him!"

George looked a little astonished, "No, it wasn't Creepy Collins, infact I saw him in the canteen about an hour ago protesting that it was all tommy-rot and Jane had never really been involved with Bingley in the first place."

Liz folded her arms and snuggled down best she could in the passenger seat, "Who, then?"

"Lady Vampyra herself, I think," said George.

Caroline!

George had a stupid nickname for everyone in the hospital but some were more apt than others. She told him about the email.

"I wish I had told you about Darcy..." he said thoughtfully, "maybe it would have helped. You could have warned Jane... put her on her guard."

"What are you talking about?" she sat up, "Do you know Mr Darcy?"

"All too well," he replied grimly. "I didn't ever want to tell you this, Lizbeth, mud sticks and all."

"Tell me!" she cried.

"I used to work for Rosings Pharmaceutical," he began awkwardly, "it belongs to Darcy's family, his uncle Sir Lewis de Bourgh left it to his sister, Catherine, but she only uses the profits for her dance company and the actual running of it is the responsibility of her other nephew, Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam..."

"Go on," said Liz sleepily, Rosings Pharmaceutical, why does it sound so familiar?

"Well, Fitzwilliam is an ex-Irish Guards officer, very dashing but totally unscrupulous and when it came to testing amyithen, you know, the so-called AIDS miracle drug?"

Liz nodded vigorously, she was wide awake now. Amyithen? Oh, my God!

"He made a good pretence of following EC regulations but in reality he was using African women and children and a few hundred of them died because of it. I leaked the story to the newspapers, the government stepped in and you know the rest..."

Of course Liz knew the rest. Her father had spearheaded the committee that investigated Rosings in the aftermath of the scandal but his personal recommendation that they lose their licence had been ignored. Rosings survived and was still churning out drugs and making millions.

"If it hadn't been for your father," George went on, "I would have carried the can for the whole thing. Fitzwilliam and Darcy were determined to blame me."

Liz made a mental note to phone her father and tell him how much she loved him as soon as she got home. His occasional lapses in judgment had worried her all her life from the age of five when she had realized that her mother was much more embarrassing than other mothers right up to the previous summer when he had consented to let Lydia study in London. This, however, exonerated him entirely.

Thank you, Dad! She leaned over and kissed George very gently, "I don't know what to say. I wish you had told me sooner and not just for Jane's sake. Oh, George, did you really think I would condemn you for being unfortunate enough to work for the Darcys and their ilk?"

He shook his head, "I guess not, I just wanted to put the whole thing behind me. Lizbeth, don't keep working for Darcy, please. He and his sister still have an enormous holding in Rosings, they're hateful people."

"I guess his sister is a younger version of Caroline?" she sighed.

George nodded, "That's about it. She's a pretty girl, reddish hair and turquoisey eyes and a dancer with the Rambert company but very much like Vampyra underneath."

Liz was struck by something, "Tall, elegant and strawberry blonde?" she asked.

"Yeah, you could call her a strawberry blonde," he replied as they nosed out on to the traffic on the motorway, "have you met her?"

Liz shook her head, "No, but I think Kit has..."

"I'd nip that in the bud quickly," muttered George, "and no conscience, darling, about doing to them what Darcy did to Jane and Charles. Georgiana Darcy makes Lady Macbeth look like Anne of Green Gables - get her out of Kit's life and soon!"

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