Daily News

Daily

News

Amy

Chapter One

Monday the 16th

Today I went for coﬀ ee at $tarbucks. I don’t really know why

I do this to myself, espresso is the devil. I’m either jittery or sick

after I drink it. But the smell lures me in every time. Damn

my non-existent will power. On a good note, this is the third
morning in a row that I’ve seen His Royal Hotness at the news-
paper stand on my block. He goes for Th

e Wall Street Journal,

I stole a good look this time. He still hasn’t looked at me, or

up for that matter. I’m wearing the Manolo pumps tomorrow.

Give him something more interesting than year old gum and

stock reports to look at.

Monday, May 16th

One good thing about this god-forsaken hole, they

sell the Journal at the corner newspaper stand, though I
have to trudge half a block to get there at great personal
peril. If I were to sum up Bingley’s taste in real estate
in one word it would be an ugly one with no view and

even less class. I still can’t believe he dragged me along.
Damn my inability to say no. Nonetheless, I have the

Journal and Boeing is up three and a half. And there
was the girl at the stand. She’s almost cute. First decent

girl I’ve seen in a week. Bad taste in reading materials,
though—no paper, just some gossip rag. Nothing like a
shallow mind to put me right oﬀ .

“I

am so sorry!”

Of course she was sorry. Th

ey were always sorry. Oh,

please forgive me for spilling my scalding hot coﬀ ee on
you. Here, let me wipe that up, and oh my, is that your

multi-million dollar wallet or are you just happy to see me.

“Its alright,” William Darcy muttered under his breath

as he set the girl aright without really looking. It was the
fact that she didn’t stay aright, but wobbled unsteadily that
drew his full attention. As he watched her face morph from
friendly appreciation to snarky disdain, he realized that he,
himself, was scowling.

“Oh, did my breaking a heel inconvenience you terribly?

I do apologize again. Shall I bow before you to make it of-
ﬁ cial?” she snapped while gaining her balance.

“No, actually. It was the second degree burns I just re-

ceived on my chest that did it,” he replied, not missing a
beat.

“Oh, man. I’m sorry. Here, let me ﬁ x that,” she said as she

sought an open space to set down her coﬀ ee and tried to dig
through her handbag at the same time.

“Its ﬁ ne, really,” William grumbled as he pulled a few

crisp bills from his pocket and moved away from her to pay
for his paper. Just as he had expected.

“But it must be expensive. Th

e tie, I mean. Here, I insist,”

she said ﬁ rmly as she grabbed his arm to stop him.

is drew William up short. He knew the game, and

she was probably an expert. By the quick feel of his arm
she would be able to tell the price of his suit to the penny.

A demure dip of the eyes would appraise his Italian leather

shoes, and with a subtle inward swoop to whisper in his ear
she would catch a healthy whiﬀ of the cost of his cologne.

His jaw clenched in anticipation.

“Take it. And if the dry-cleaner can’t get it out, I’ll buy

you a new one, and the shirt,too. I see a spot there,” she said,

pointing to his chest.

William would have looked where she was directing if

the money she held out before him hadn’t kept him so riv-
eted. Th

is woman was seriously holding out a ﬁ st-full of

dollars. To him. Unreal.

“Hello? I don’t have all day. Take it,” she grabbed for his

hand and tried to push the money into it. William snatched
it back as if bitten.

“I don’t need your money,” was all he could think to say.
“Of course you don’t, Bill Gates. But when I make a mess

I clean it up. Now, look, take the money. I have to hob-

ble home and change these shoes, and I’m already late for

work.”

“Th

en go, please. I really don’t need your money and I’m

sure it wouldn’t be enough anyway.” It wasn’t what he had
meant to say or how he had meant to say it, and he regretted
it as soon as the words left his mouth.

“You know what, buddy. Forget it. Th

ese shoes aren’t

cheap, either. Manolo Blahnik! Broken! You are some kind
of bad luck, let me tell you. My favorite lucky shoes, demol-
ished within seconds of running into you. I swear, people
these days…” she barked at him before spinning on her one
good heel and limping away as fast as she could manage.
She only got as far as the curb, where she began waving
down a cab. One by one, yellow and black bullets whizzed
past her without a single ﬂ ash of a brakelight. It was obvi-
ous she was getting more ﬂ ustered by the second.

William hesitated, torn between helping her and walking

away from this disaster forever. Walk, his mind screamed at
him. Walk now!

His sharp whistle made her jerk in surprise, but he ig-

nored it as well as her startled glare. With a commanding
wave of his hand, William got the attention of a passing
cab.

“I don’t need your help,” she snapped defensively.
“Of course you don’t, Gloria Steinem. Get in the cab. I

owe you an apology.”

Against her better judgment, and deﬁ nitely against the

anger she felt compelled to hold against this stranger for-
ever, she got in the cab.

“Where to?” the cabbie asked as they settled in the back

of his car. William gave a questioning look to his new com-
panion, as she was the one calling the shots on this trip. Her
mouth opened in automatic response, but she pulled herself

up short and seemed to think for a moment. She took a
quick glance at the slim watch on her wrist, then, with an
anxious look said “270 Park Avenue, please.”

e address struck a familiar chord with William, but

he couldn’t remember why. He sat quietly for several min-
utes, trying to sort it out until her voice broke his train of
thought.

“You said something about an apology.”
“Yes, well. Your shoe, that’s unfortunate,” he said ﬂ atly.

His main goal had been to help get her a cab without dam-

aging her pride any further. Now that he had succeeded, he
wasn’t sure what to do with her.

William watched her eyes narrow, and she inhaled a con-

centrated breath that he was almost certain would come
back out in the form of a world-class berating. He braced
himself.

“Far more unfortunate than you know,” was her only re-

ply. Once again, she had done the unexpected. And because
of it, William found himself drawn deeper into a situation
that he would normally have walked away from without
another thought.

“William Darcy,” he oﬀ ered his hand in truce as well as

introduction.

“Elizabeth Bennet,” she responded, taking it hesitantly.

He held her hand for too long, he knew it was true.

William was in big business, he pressed the ﬂ esh on a daily

basis. And with the string of social obligations that came

with his standing in society, he had dated more than his

share of women. Th

ere was no possible way he could count

the number of hands that had been in the exact spot that
hers now occupied. But this felt diﬀ erent and he held on a
little longer than was polite, trying to decide if the sensa-
tion was good or bad.

“I will need that back, please,” Elizabeth quipped shortly,

ﬁ nally pulling from his grip. “And don’t think that I’m so
easily swayed by a handsome face and ﬁ rm handshake. You
insulted me when I was trying to make nice, and you have
yet to produce the promised apology.”

William gave her half of a smile, his eyes crinkling

slightly as his cheek dimpled with amusement. Th

ey were

locked together for the duration of this trip, and he was
determined to draw some familiar response out of her, to
prove to himself she was just like every other woman he
had ever met. Why not, he thought, he would never see
her again.

“How did I insult you?” his voice was as smooth and dark

as chocolate.

e eﬀ ect was not the one he had hoped for.

“Are you for real?” she asked in astonishment. “Or is your

short term memory shot. I distinctly remember the words

‘wouldn’t be enough anyway’ passing from those lips. When

someone oﬀ ers to make amends for an honest mistake, its
generally good form to at least respond to said oﬀ er with a
little graciousness. Or did they not teach you that at Pretty

Boy school?”

is ruﬄ

ed his feathers, to say the least. He knew that he

had been wrong to say that, but Pretty Boy school, indeed.

“I hardly think I need etiquette lessons from someone

who gets their world news from the pages of a gossip rag,”
he threw back caustically.

“Oh, that’s rich! Judgmental much? Can’t give a girl the

time of day, but you can sure keep track of what she’s doing
wrong. I’ll have you know that I buy that magazine for…oh
no!” a look of horror passed over her features as her hand

ﬂ ew up to cover her mouth. Her sudden swing in focus

threw him completely oﬀ balance.

“What’s the matter?” he asked, confused.
“I didn’t get it. I’m late, I didn’t get the magazine and my

shoes are ruined. I don’t think this day could possibly get

worse,” she sighed as she closed her eyes and rubbed her
ﬁ ngers across her forehead in irritation.

Before William could speak again, the cab pulled up be-

fore the JP Morgan Chase building. Realization struck him
full force as the familiar address Elizabeth had given the
cabbie became the very building the he himself had been
destined for later that morning. He had thought they had
been taking her home to change her shoes, and he could not
fathom what business this unusual woman could possibly
have at one of America’s leading ﬁ nancial institutions when
she was already late for work. Unless she was someone’s sec-
retary?

Elizabeth reached into her handbag, took out some of

the bills she had so recently waved before William’s face,
and shoved them at the cab driver. William made to protest,
after all the cab had been his doing and he would not stick a
lady with the bill even if she did irritate the hell out of him.

But there was no time to pursue the issue. Elizabeth had

popped out of the cab and was hobbling toward the steel
and glass monolith before he could draw breath to speak.

Slowly, William exited the cab. He smoothed his coat,

straightened his tie and squared his shoulders before follow-
ing in the footsteps of one seriously mind-blowing woman.

Chapter Two

May 17th

Worst day of my life. Period.

May 17th

I have oﬃ

cially decided that saucy women are my fa-

vorite ﬂ avor. Especially brunettes with ridiculous taste
in shoes.

“O

h, Lizzy. You are in serious trouble. Where
have you been? Mr. Lucas is furious, and he
had to send Denny to take your place. I hope

you have a good excuse.”

Elizabeth sighed and shook her head as the stream of

babble ﬂ owed from her sister Jane’s mouth into her ear at
supersonic speed. She wasn’t surprised by Jane’s stressed
monologue. In the ﬁ ve years they had worked together
at JP Morgan Chase, Jane had always been the Queen of

Aﬀ ability and Harmony. Elizabeth was sure her poor sister

was about to blow a gasket with worry over keeping her
tardy behind out of trouble. But it was not to be, for as the
two women strode hastily from the elevators, around the
corner and into the main oﬃ

ce area, they were halted by

their red faced boss.

“Bennet! Do you know what time it is?” Mr. William

Lucas growled, his eyes glaring out at them from under a

large shelf of bushy grey brows.

“Yes, Mr. Lucas. I’m sorry.” Elizabeth’s words had all the

semblance of a proper apology but her bearing and expres-
sion told him loud and clear that if he didn’t like it he could
bite her. Jane sensed the tension in the room go up to 11,
and she demurely dipped her eyes and hurried away to her
desk. Tittering and whispering could be heard behind the
maze of cubicles.

“It is 9:45. Opening bell is 9:30. Explain to me how you

earned me money this morning, Bennet, when an intern has
been down on the ﬂ oor of the New York Stock Exchange
for the last ﬁ fteen minutes in your place. And while you
are at it, explain to me why I should keep you on when you
probably cost us millions already.”

“Because I’m the best,” Elizabeth smiled at him cockily.
“Fat lot of good that does me when you are here and not

on the ﬂ oor,” he huﬀ ed.

“And you know damn well that I would never have been

late if it had not been an emergency. So why don’t you go in
and take your heart pill before you fall over, and I will make
this all right,” she continued saucily before giving his arm
an aﬀ ectionate squeeze. She knew she had him, because he
could never stay angry for long. Elizabeth was indeed his
best broker, and her work ethic was phenomenal.

Mr. Lucas huﬀ ed once more for posterity, and turned

back toward his oﬃ

ce, momentarily appeased. But mid-

stride memory struck and he spun back and paced back to

Elizabeth, coming to whisper in her ear.

“I’ll let it all go if you brought my paper today, Elizabeth,”

he raised his ample brows in anticipation of some good
news.

And here Elizabeth truly felt remorse. She had no gossip

rag to hand him. She had brought him one every morning
for the past year, shoved discretely between the pages of the
daily news. It was his guilty pleasure, and one he did not
want to make common knowledge, because through the
pages of those inane gossip magazines William Lucas could
follow the jet-setting life of his long lost paramour. Outside
of the attentions of his only daughter/secretary, Charlotte,
he was a lonely widower. And it made Elizabeth sad to have
deprived him of his little daily happiness.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Lucas. Th

at is part of the whole major

calamity this morning has become. I will send out for one
immediately,” she oﬀ ered.

“No, no. Its alright…” he started.
“Miss Bennet,” a deep, rich voice broke into their con-

versation. It might have been considered a sexy voice, as
was attested to by the sudden appearance of several female

faces above the cubicle walls. But to Elizabeth, this voice

was the kiss of death. Her stomach knotted, and she pon-
dered moving oﬀ to her own cubicle as though she hadn’t
heard him. Mr. Lucas made this entirely impossible for her,
though.

“Mr. Darcy! So wonderful to see you. Are you here visit-

ing Mr. Bingley? It is wonderful to have him about. We
truly hope to keep him on. What do you think of our ﬁ ne
oﬃ

ces? Th

ey are nothing to those in London, I’m sure, but

we do try,” Mr. Lucas gushed, leaving Elizabeth to wonder
why the evil Darcy had followed her here and even more

so why Mr. Lucas would be kissing his well tailored back-
side. Th

ere was nothing for it, she was forced to turn and

confront her nemesis.

“Ah, yes, well. I’ve brought you this,” Darcy spoke hesi-

tantly, ignoring, for the most part, Mr. Lucas’ gushing trib-
ute to brown-nosery and handing Elizabeth a magazine,
folded in such a way that the front cover was invisible to the
meddlesome eye.

Elizabeth was at a loss for words, for she immediately

recognized the bundle of paper for what it was. Th

e gossip

rag she had promised her lovelorn boss.

“Th

ank you,” she ﬁ nally managed after a very uncomfort-

able pause.

“You’re welcome. I know you said it wasn’t for you person-

ally, but truly, you shouldn’t read such ﬁ lth. It kills brain
cells,” he quipped, uncomfortable and ready to escape now
that he had delivered his package.

“Well, Mr. Darcy—and please don’t take this the wrong

way—my reading habits are my own business. I do thank
you for the gift, and apologize for the horror it must have

caused you to be seen purchasing ‘such ﬁ lth’. But as it is
your fault that I am late for opening bell on the ﬂ oor of the
Exchange, I will take this as your promised apology,” she
tossed back, hand ﬁ rmly planted upon hip. Th

is guy was

really too much.

“Th

e Exchange?” he asked, momentarily thrown oﬀ bal-

ance. She was a broker?

“Yes, the New York Stock Exchange, where I buy and sell

stocks with the big boys,” she tossed at him.

“Well, okay then. I guess I should be going, and leave

you to it,” he muttered, uncomfortable again. And with no

further word he turned and left.

Mr. Lucas stepped up beside Elizabeth and gently slid

the magazine from her hand.

“Well, dear, if he is the reason you are late, you are more

than forgiven. Excellent choice by the way, excellent choice
indeed!” Mr. Lucas beamed at her and gave her a quick hug
before turning happily back to his oﬃ

ce.

“What? NO! Its not like that. He just…” she protested

to the retreating back of her boss, but was met with only a
snappy wave of his hand as he continued on. Seconds later
she was surrounded by a bevy of giggling oﬃ

ce girls, her

sister and best friend, the afore-mentioned Charlotte Lucas,
included in the group.

“Lizzy! He’s dreamy. How could you keep him secret.”
“Oh, Lizzy. Where did you pick him up? And where can I

ﬁ nd one just like him?”

e questions buzzed around her head until she was

forced to cover her ears to keep her sanity.

“Its not like that, I swear! Please, curb the hormones, la-

dies,” she shouted above the noise.

“Come on, Lizzy,” Charlotte asked as the group of women

ﬁ nally calmed itself, “when a man the likes of that comes

to see you and is bearing gifts—well, you can’t blame us for
wanting to know more.”

“I met him at the new stand on my block. Oh, I thought

he was gorgeous at ﬁ rst. I even wore ‘the shoes’. But, ladies,
let me sum it up for you with a visual.” Elizabeth leaned
down and slipped her feet from the much abused Manolos
and held them up for her friends to see the damage. A col-
lective gasp of horror went up amongst the group.

“No! I was going to borrow those tonight,” Jane choked.
“How could you break them?” Charlotte scolded, devas-

tated by this horrendous act of treachery.

“Me?” Elizabeth snapped. “I didn’t do it. He did, his very

presence cursed them. And could you all be more selﬁ sh?

ink of me. I’m never getting laid again. Th

at man has

some seriously bad ju-ju!”

As one the women turned their eyes to the spot that the

bad luck boy had so recently occupied.

“Morning, Lizzy.”

Elizabeth looked up from the memorial service for her

dearly departed shoes at the sound of yet another male voice.

is one, as well as the three other men who had just joined

the ring of mourning women, she was happy to see.

“Good morning, Mark,” she replied.
“What’s the water cooler topic for today, ladies?” another

named Matt asked.

“Lizzy broke the lucky shoes,” Charlotte sighed heavily.
“Oh, no! Grave news indeed,” Luke chimed in.
“What are ‘the lucky shoes’” John whispered to Luke.
“Legend has it that those shoes have special powers to en-

snare men,” Luke responded.

“I don‘t get it,“ John said, looking doubtfully at the dam-

aged footwear that were now cradled softly in Jane’s hands.

“Lizzy got a date with Steven Tyler once in those shoes.”

Charlotte said mournfully.

“It wasn’t a date, really. More like a backstage pass,”

Elizabeth tried to clarify.

“I doubt it was the shoes,” Matt whispered to Mark.
“So, Jane borrowed them the next weekend and got a date

with Daniel in accounting,” Charlotte continued.

Jane blushed as everyone’s eyes turned to her. “I thought

he was cute.”

“Several of us have borrowed them whenever we happen

to have our eye on a certain man, and they had yet to fail.

Until today,” Charlotte concluded.

John looked at his male companions in confusion.

“Th

ey are the Blessed Shoes of +10 Dating,” Mark oﬀ ered

helpfully.

“Oh!” John exclaimed, ﬁ nally getting it.

With a vast wealth of empathy, Luke said “Lizzy, all set

for the gig this weekend?”

“Yes, everything is ready. I’ll meet you all at the club two

hours before show time,” she conﬁ rmed.

“Alright then, ladies. We will leave you to it,” Matt said as

the men headed back to their cubicles.

Knowing they had to get back to work themselves, the

ladies disbanded and headed back to their own desks with
heavy hearts.

Jane paused next to her sister for a moment once they

were alone.

“You know, Lizzy, there might be a more positive mean-

ing behind this.”

“And what might that be,” Elizabeth raised a brow at her

eternally optimistic sister.

“Th

e shoes might have broken because you don’t need

them anymore,” Jane said softly, looking at her sister in-
tently.

“Oh? And why might that be? Do you see a convent in my

future?” Elizabeth laughed.

“No. Something far more simple. He might be ‘the one’.”

And with that Jane strode back to her cubicle leaving her

sister to remove her jaw from the ﬂ oor alone.

Chapter 3

May 18th

Rock heals all wounds. Th

e boys play Th

e Shed tonight, and

I cannot wait. Biggest gig we’ve had yet.

May 18th

A full day ahead looking over my investment prospec-

tus with Charles. It is Friday and I am not sure what he
has in mind for the evening. Whatever it is, I hope it is
quiet.

lose of business passed unnoticed as Darcy, with
the help of his life long friend and newly hired ﬁ -
nancial advisor, Charles Bingley, poured over his
stock portfolio. Having established a sizable inter-

est in the London market, Darcy was keen on taking a bite
out of the Big Apple. And as Bingley had just secured a
prime position at J.P. Morgan Chase, he was well suited
to help Darcy do just that. Together they sorted out a ﬁ rm
course of action, but it wasn’t until after seven that they felt
they had enough ﬁ nalized to walk away for the evening.

e route from Bingley’s well appointed new digs to the

impressive bank of elevators led them directly past the work
area of one Elizabeth Bennet, saucy brunette. Darcy cast
a glance of remembrance in that general direction, just in
time to see the knock-out blonde from yesterday morning’s
ﬁ asco. From the low whistle next to him, Darcy could tell
he wasn’t the only one who had seen her.

“Good Lord, how did I miss that?” Bingley muttered half

to himself.

“Mr. Darcy. Nice to see you again. I thought I was the

last to leave this evening,” Jane said politely while glancing
casually at his companion.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name earlier,” Darcy replied,

taking her extended hand—ever the gentleman.

“Jane Bennet,” she responded. “Elizabeth’s sister,” she

added in answer to the question that sprang up in Darcy’s
look.

“Pleasure to meet you, Jane. Th

is is Charles Bingley.”

Jane oﬀ ered Bingley her hand, which he took gladly.

Darcy would have been hard pressed to get a word in edge-
wise after that point, which suited him just ﬁ ne.

“Jane, have you eaten? We were just on our way to ﬁ nd

somewhere to eat,” Bingley asked, her hand still ﬁ rmly en-
sconced in his own and neither making a move to rectify
the situation.

“Why, no, I haven’t yet. I was going to grab a quick bite

on the way home,” she answered demurely.

“Well, then join us. Or, better yet, let us join you. I’m sure

you know the best places to go, and well…I’m new around

here.” Bingley gave her the ‘awe-shucks grin‘, complete with
batted eyes and self-eﬀ acing chuckle. She was hooked, in-
stantly.

“If its no trouble,” Jane looked to Darcy for conﬁ rmation

that her added presence would not be a nuisance. He nod-
ded aﬀ ably and opened his mouth to answer.

“Trouble? Never!” Charles cut in, tucking her hand away

into the crook of his arm. Th

ey fell into comfortable step

together, with Darcy picking up the rear. He shook his
head in amusement. No one could withstand the Bingley
charm.

Dinner was a quaint aﬀ air in a casual bistro on a quiet

block not far from the oﬃ

ce. Bingley seemed to enjoy him-

self immensely, and though Darcy found Jane to be nothing
short of sweet, he couldn’t ﬁ nd anything about her that he
hadn’t seen in any other ‘sweet’ girl Bingley had chatted up.

So, with a serial-dater for a best friend, and having found
himself an unexpected third wheel on more than one occa-

sion, one could imagine Darcy’s irritation at what happened
next.

“You know, Jane, this has been fun. We should do this

again, very soon,” Bingley hinted warmly.

“I would love that. Maybe we could…Oh my! I’m late,” she

cried abruptly, having noted the time on her wristwatch just
as she had dipped her eyes demurely at Bingley’s words.

“Seems to be genetic,” Darcy muttered into his glass of

wine.

“Its been lovely, and I do hope to do this again, soon,” Jane

said hastily as she rose and grabbed her coat and purse.

Bingley was on his feet in a ﬂ ash, taking her coat from

her and holding it out for her to slip into.

“Here,” he said ﬁ rmly as he threw several large bills onto

the table, “we’ll take you were you need to go.”

“Bingley!” Darcy barked, not keen on being roped into

another leg of this misadventure.

“Its alright,” Jane cut in. “I can manage.”
“Its late, and I insist.”
“Bingley,” Darcy reiterated, with severity.
“Your friend wants to go home, Charles. But thank you so

much for the oﬀ er.”

“My friend is a stick in the mud. Which way are you head-

ed?” Bingley said jovially, leaning into her ear conspiratori-
ally.

“A few blocks to the left. I have a concert to be at,” she

answered.

“Concert? Really?” Bingley asked, his interest piqued.

With a whistle and a wave he hailed a cab.

“Bingley, I’m going back to the apartment. You two have

a lovely evening. Jane, it was a pleasure,” Darcy interjected
brusquely as he stepped away from the group to hail a cab of
his own. He knew the look in Bingley’s eye, and he was in
no mood for an extended evening of playing wing man.

“Caroline is home alone this evening. I’m sure she will en-

joy some quality time, just the two of you,” Bingley called out
to him. With something very akin to a growl, Darcy turned

and trudged back. Playing second ﬁ ddle would always be
more preferable than an evening with Medusa. Damn

Bingley’s inability to go on a ﬁ rst date alone. Chicken.

“A concert sounds like fun, Jane. Is it too late to get tick-

ets? Who is playing?” Darcy said blandly.

“Well, it’s a local band. I’m not sure if it will be your thing,

really. Kind of loud,” she said hesitantly.

“Th

e louder the better,” Bingley laughed as he pushed

Darcy unceremoniously toward the cab. Th

en helping Jane

in and settling next to her, he leaned over to whisper in her
ear once again. “Th

e evening has ﬂ own by, Jane, and I’m

not ready for it to end. Would you be oﬀ ended if we tag
along just a little bit more?”

“Of course not,” she said softly, averting her eyes as a deli-

cate blush tinged her cheek.

“Wonderful,” Darcy muttered.

e cab pulled up shortly before the well-lit exterior of

a night club sporting the name Th

e Shed on an old fash-

ioned marquee. Apparently Th

e Shed was proud to present

e Apostles of Rock as this evenings entertainment. Darcy

couldn’t decided what thrilled him more, the promise of
blown ear drums or the interminable wait that the end-
less line of bodies queued outside the doors ensured. Jane
grabbed both men by an arm and hauled them past the
waiting throng and hulking bouncers with nothing more
than a wink and a smile. Th

e doors opened for her without

a single hitch.

Jane’s route circumvented the more public areas of the

club, and the trio soon found themselves in what appeared to
be a backstage area. Neither man had time to think, before
they were approached by a whirling dervish covered in a large
black rubber apron and gloves and sporting this seasons hot-
test style in goggles beneath a Von Dutch trucker hat.

“Jane, about damn time. Matt is ready, Luke has every-

thing in place but the wig. But Mark and John are hopeless.

Will you please help John with his make-up? Charlotte is

trying to get Mark together. Oh! Hello.” Elizabeth pulled
herself up short as she noted the tall blonde man next to
her sister.

“Sure, Lizzy. Oh, this is Charles Bingley. We met at the

oﬃ

ce. He’s friends with Mr. Darcy. You remember Mr…”

Jane trailed oﬀ as she saw that she had lost her audience to

urgent business. She looked apologetically at Bingley, who
told her not to worry as he knew things were hectic.

Darcy noted, however, what had pulled Elizabeth away

so rudely, and the sight of it made him want to turn tail and
run. A man, encased in metal, adorned with spikes, face
kabuki white with greasepaint and streaked with red and
black markings which was strangely at odds with his clean
cut blond hair, stood before Elizabeth the Mad Scientist.

Stretching up higher than her thinly heeled boots should
have allowed, she arranged a false mohawk of jet black hair
upon his normal Wally Cleaver do. Once she was satisﬁ ed
with his new coiﬀ ure, she reached behind a monstrous stack
of sub-bass woofers and brought out a bass guitar bear-

ing a striking resemblance to a battle axe. Upon its silver
surface were scrawled the words “Hammer of Valhalla” in
blood red paint. Giving the man two thumbs up Elizabeth
pushed him out toward the curtained stage, where he was
soon followed by three other men in similar attire. Th

is was

not going to be a concert, it was going to torture. Literally.

“Sorry about that. Last minute adjustments. Th

is is Lizzy’s

band. She’s been managing them for four years,” Jane ex-
plained as she rejoined the men. “We could go out front
and watch if you like. But I suggest we stay here. Th

ings get

kind of rowdy out there.”

“Back here is ﬁ ne,” Bingley had to raise his voice as the

band began to tune their instruments. A loud roar and the
rhythmic shouts of “Rock, Rock, Rock” could be heard
from the other side of the closed curtain. Darcy shifted ner-

vously on his feet. His eyes strayed again toward Elizabeth,
and he saw that she was now before some strange, square
machine with a nozzled hose held ﬁ rmly in both hands.

After a few more moments, the man who appeared to be

the lead singer nodded to Elizabeth, who in turn nodded
toward Charlotte, who used her whole body to pull on the
stubborn chords of the curtains. Jerkily they pulled apart,
revealing the freak show that was the Apostles of Rock to
their rowdy and adoring fans.

A deafening roar went up amongst the crowd as Luke

pulled his microphone toward his lips and sneered. In the
absolute worst impression of a British national Darcy had
ever had the misfortune to hear, he yelled “Ahh you ready
to rawck?” Th

e response was a 10 on the Richter scale.

“Wow,” Bingley shouted to Jane. “Th

ey must be great.”

“No,” Jane laughed. “Th

ey are wretched. Worst band in

the history of man.”

“Really? Th

is place is packed. How is that possible?”

Bingley asked incredulously.

“I’m not sure. Its scary really, almost like a cult. William

Hung wishes he had this kind of popularity,” Jane yelled

over the discordant strains of the Apostles’ opening number.

e screams of several women could be heard over Luke’s

plaintive wailing, and Darcy was sure he saw a bra sail over
the drummer’s head.

Torture had been the correct descriptive for this evening,

Darcy concluded. It was almost comical in its wretchedness.

e only upshot to the whole glass-half-empty scenario was

that he could admire Elizabeth without the beneﬁ t of her
acerbic wit. She was very animated as she watched her band,
armed with her odd weapon and bedecked in her HASMAT
gear. She was quite cute, actually.

Elizabeth was unaware of anything but the band, until

they started their fourth number “Bath of Blood”. She nod-
ded her head for an eight-count, then reached down and

ﬂ ipped a switch on the machine. Aiming the hose she had

been holding so dearly, she sprayed a ﬁ ne mist of red dyed
corn syrup at the men on stage, solidifying the whole freak
show image.

Once she had established a good rhythm, Elizabeth

turned her head to give her sister a “Are we rockin’ or what?“
look. It was then she noticed Jane had not brought one man
with her, but two. Her face fell as she recognized the second
man.

And then the machine broke.
Th

e ﬁ ne mist of red became a gushing current of sticky

red ooze. Th

e hose jerked spasmodically in Elizabeth’s

hands, coating the band in crimson streams. Matt was the
ﬁ rst to fall. Loosing his footing he slid head long into Luke,
who performed a near ﬂ awless double axle before falling
backward over Matt’s prone form. His momentum slowed
but not stopped by his fall, Luke toppled Mark over back-
ward into the drum kit mid-chord. It was the purest note
he had ever played.

With nothing left to drum, John ﬂ ipped his sticks up

into the air and caught them with a ﬂ ourish. “Th

ank you!”

he yelled as Charlotte pulled the curtains closed as fast as
their rickety workings would allow.

Chaos had not left the backstage area untouched.

Elizabeth yelled for someone to unplug the machine while

she struggled to maintain a slippery grip on the squirming
hose. Jane had rushed to the aid of the band members who

were currently dog-piled stage right, and Charles was hot on
her heels. Charlotte was struggling with the curtain, leav-
ing Darcy to save the day. Which he did with much aplomb,

following the power cord to its outlet and pulling it out in
one swift motion. Feeling pretty good about things, glad
to have been of assistance, and gladder yet to have escaped
contact with the sticky ooze, Darcy approached Elizabeth

with all the conﬁ dence of the truly naïve.

His ﬁ rst sign should have been the snapping oﬀ of the

gloves, he deﬁ nitely should have gotten it with the furi-
ous chucking of the goggles. But that he hadn’t caught on
when she barely missed his head with the ﬂ ying Von Dutch
trucker hat was pure self-delusion. Elizabeth was pissed and
he was her target.

“In the name of all things holy, will you get your cursed

being away from me before you end my life!” She yelled as
she tore oﬀ the black rubber apron.

Her hair, now freed from the hat, bounced about her

shoulders even as her eyes danced with anger. She had said
something, but he couldn’t hear due to the g-force spin his
stomach was taking. Aphrodite-full blown and furious. Her
gauzy, ﬁ lmy shirt caught and clung and bore cleavage while
the denim of her jeans hugged her sweetly from the hips
down. Mad as hell she stamped her foot…and down she

went.

Her foot going right out from underneath her, losing

purchase in the slimy fake blood, Elizabeth found herself
ﬂ at on her tush before she knew what hit her. Th

at was the

limit, and all she could do at that point was laugh.

“Here, let me help you,” Darcy was right there, oﬀ ering

his hand. Elizabeth grabbed on and allowed him to help
pull her up, but gravity said no and brought her back down

with another slip and slide of her precarious heels. She
couldn’t help but laugh again, because the pretty boy came
down with her.

From his precarious perch atop her shapely body, Darcy

laughed as well. And for a brief moment the world stopped.

“Well, some help you are,” she quipped.
“Are you always so graceful, Miss Bennet, or is it your

ridiculous taste in shoes ,” he tossed back.

“Ridiculous! Th

ese are Jimmy Choos,” she gasped, much

oﬀ ended by his lack of fashion sense. Ridiculous indeed.

“Well, I think he will be wanting them back, then. You

are obviously complete rubbish in them,” he smiled at how
easy it was to get her dander up.

Elizabeth cocked an eyebrow, catching on to his game.

e corner of her mouth twitched up in recognition of a

kindred wit. He was quick, she had to give him that.

e proximity, the adrenaline, the complete abandon he

felt right at that moment—a sensation so wholly unfamiliar
to him—those were the elements upon which he would later
cast the blame. For with such beauty before him, or under
him as the case may be, how could he not be tempted.

In one hot blooded impulsive act he kissed her.
In the deepest, darkest part of her subconscious, Elizabeth

knew she should slap him. Or maybe even give him the
knee. At the very least push him oﬀ . But a girl who had
only recently expected to never date again would be a fool
to pass up a kiss this good. After all, he owed her—again—
and she felt quite content taking this as partial payment. So,
she did what any good girl would do when faced with such
a situation, she slipped him some tongue.

Much could have been made of this particular opportu-

nity by both parties involved, had not the reality of the situ-
ation around them kicked in. Sticky red ooze was soaking
most uncomfortably through Elizabeth’s clothes, and the
sounds from the stage had ﬁ nally begun to penetrate their
hormonal bubble. Pulling away, Elizabeth cocked a saucy
eyebrow and smiled.

“Why, Mr. Darcy, and here I thought you were a gentle-

man,” she quipped in her most unaﬀ ected voice. She’d be
damned if she was going to let him know that the earth
had moved. With her luck around him, it was probably a
legitimate earthquake anyway.

Before he could respond, he found himself hauled up

bodily by Bingley and one of the stage hands.

“Darcy, are you okay? You guys must have gone down

hard in this muck. Lets get you out of this before that suit
is completely ruined,” Bingley prattled as Darcy regained
his footing. Looking down at himself he saw the suit was a
lost cause, and the shoes as well. His next thought came too
late, as he watched Luke and Matt pull Elizabeth back to
her feet. She, too, took a moment to lament the state of her
attire before she was pulled away by Jane and the rest of the
band. With worried faces they huddled together, every once
in awhile casting a frightened glance at commotion coming
from the other side of the curtain.

“Lets go, Darcy. Jane says we had better jump ship before

the angry mob out there becomes active,” Bingley pulled on
his friend’s sleeve.

“What about the women. Surely we should stay and help,”

Darcy worried.

“Th

e manager is sending an escort of bouncers for them,

but we won’t be so lucky. Its now or never.”

And with that, the men exited the scene—stage left.
Th

e next few days progressed with virtually no interac-

tion between Darcy and Elizabeth. Th

eir paths didn’t cross,

they didn’t meet socially, nor did they ﬁ nd time to tongue
wrestle in a kiddie pool of fake blood. For Bingley and Jane,
on the other hand, it was quite the opposite.

ings were progressing between the couple at an alarm-

ing rate, so much so that Bingley was either hard to ﬁ nd
after work hours, or Jane was a permanent ﬁ xture at the
evening meals. Caroline had not found Miss Jane Bennet as
interesting as her older brother obviously did, which was an
added beneﬁ t for Darcy as her shifted focus left him with
rare unmolested free time. Th

e down side of this new found

romance was the lack of progress he and Bingley were mak-
ing on his portfolio.

On Friday, one week after the “Bath of Blood” incident,

Darcy put his foot down. He needed a few hours of Bingley’s

uninterrupted time, and by God he’d have it.

“You are a slave driver, Darcy,” Bingley groused as they

left his oﬃ

ce. It was just past nine, and any chances of call-

ing Jane for a late dinner where right out the window.

“Yes, well there will be no more late nights. We are ﬁ n-

ished, and I for one feel good about that. Now you can
spend your evenings as you like, and I can make plans to
go back to London,” Darcy smiled as he gave Bingley a
friendly thump on the back.

“I wish you would stay longer. Th

ere is much fun to be

had here, now that you have some time to relax,” Bingley
oﬀ ered encouragingly.

“Fun is relative, Bingley. I’ve had enough fun here to last

a life time. I need to go back home.”

Bingley’s response was cut short by the ring of his cell

phone. Darcy cringed as it became quickly apparent that

Bingley’s sister was the caller, and by the whipped puppy

look in his friend’s eyes he knew that she was taking her
brother to task.

“Bingley,” he interrupted, “you go ahead. I’ve left some-

thing in the oﬃ

ce. I’ll catch another cab.”

Shaking his head furiously, Bingley tried to catch

Darcy’s attention but to no avail. With a wink and a chuck-

le he backtracked to Bingley’s oﬃ

ce where he planned to

sit idly just long enough for Charles to catch a cab home.

Turn about was fair play, and besides, the poor boy had

Caroline’s lovely voice to keep him company on the ride

home.

As he strode down the hall, a faint light and the soft

sounds of a radio up ahead drew his attention. He followed
the music until it led him to the oﬃ

ce of William Lucas.

But peering through the door he saw that the person be-

hind the desk was certainly no man named Lucas.

Elizabeth had some last minute ﬁ gures to settle for her

boss. Working late didn’t bother her, really. It saved her
from having to go home to an empty apartment, and she
got more done in the still and quiet of the after hours work-
place. After a trying morning on the stock exchange ﬂ oor,
she embraced the solitude. Around nine she put the ﬁ n-
ishing touches on her work and felt the call to stretch her
cramped muscles. It was then that the sultry sounds of the
desk radio caught her attention.

As if moving to some internal choreography, Elizabeth re-

moved the pencil that had been holding her hair in a bun
away from her face and shook her curls free. She reached over
and turned up the radio just as Joe Cocker implored her to
take oﬀ her coat real slow over the jazzy punch of a tenor sax.
Not wanting to disappoint the man, she slid her suit jacket
from her shoulders with a sassy shake and popped open a few
shirt buttons for good measure. She then slipped her shoes oﬀ
as Mr. Cocker commanded, and grabbing the spare chapeau
Mr. Lucas always left upon his desk, she set it on her head
and tugged it down over an eye. Letting the music wash away
the stress of the day, she moved in time to the sexy beat.

Darcy watched from the shadows of the darkened oﬃ

area, against any proper upbringing his mother had tried
to instill in him, God rest her soul. His mouth became
a desert as he enjoyed the privilege of watching a woman
completely at ease with herself dance as if she were alone
in the world. And as he watched, his imagination took over,
inserting himself into the scene as a very hands on partici-
pant. Her hair running through his ﬁ ngers, her hips skim-
ming softly against his, her lips open and inviting. She was
wreaking havoc on his willpower.

e song pulsed on as Elizabeth danced with abandon.

Darcy felt himself step forward, then forward again until
ﬁ nally the song ended and the spell was broken for both of

them. Embarrassed, though unnoticed, he turned hastily
away and retreated back toward the exit.

He had thought he would have time to catch a cab before

Elizabeth emerged from the building, but ﬁ ve minutes of
anxious waving had gotten him nothing. Th

e soft click of

heels upon the pavement behind him announced her pres-
ence, which felt as heavy to him as the lingering humidity
of the night air.

*song ref is Joe Cocker “You Can Leave Your Hat On”

“Hello, stranger. You are here awfully late,” Elizabeth

commented.

is was their ﬁ rst meeting since the kiss, add that to the

intimate show Darcy had just witnessed and it was all he

could do to keep his composure. Cornered, he bit the bullet
and turned to face her. “Hello, Elizabeth. It seems I’m not
the only one.”

“Yes, well, last minute project,” she said noncommittally.
“I see,” was the best he could come up with. “It feels like

rain. Would you like for me to hail a cab for you?” he added
and then ﬂ inched.

“No, thank you,” Elizabeth replied, suddenly cognizant

of all the horrible things that could go wrong in an automo-
bile driven by a middle-aged, balding taxi driver hopped up
on No-Doz. Getting in a cab with or hired by the king of
all jinxes would assure she would ﬁ nd out ﬁ rst hand.

“Have you eaten?” Darcy persisted against the screaming

of his left brain.

“No.”
“Neither have I, and it is late but I’m sure there is some-

where that will serve something palatable at this hour.

Would you like to join me?” His right eye gave a small

twitch.

As if on cue, fat droplets descended from the sky. Darcy

turned again to hail a cab, hoping to get them out of the
rain before they were drenched.

Peering up into the rain Elizabeth replied, “I don’t think

so.”

Darcy wasn’t listening, for he expected a positive re-

sponse—he always received a positive response in these situ-
ations—so he carried on with job of catching a cab. At his

wit’s end and just short of jumping in front of a zooming
yellow arrow of death, an older model cab with a broken
lamp and a missing side mirror pulled to a halt before them.
Quickly, Darcy opened the door and reached out to usher
Elizabeth in.

“Nooooo,” she said, punctuating it with a ﬁ rm step back-

ward.

“Its raining, Elizabeth, get in!”
“Nooooo,” she repeated, certainty setting in…
“For heaven’s sake, why not?” he growled, frustration level

rising…

“Th

at is a death trap, just look at it. You go ahead. I’m

sure I’ll read all about your little ride in print tomorrow,”
she scoﬀ ed.

“You are being ridiculous. And you will be soaked through

in a moment. Just get in, where we can discuss this in rela-
tive warmth,” he argued.

“I tell you what, you get in, I’ll walk this way. Its been a

pleasure—good night,” she ended, turning on her heel as
she turned up the collar of her coat.

Darcy grabbed her arm to stop her and spun her around

into him and catching her about the waist to keep her in
place.

“Elizabeth, get in the car before you catch your death of

cold.”

She didn’t want to get in the car, he wasn’t the boss of

her. Who did he think he was, telling her what to do? She
began to feel all the stubbornness of her inner two year old

build up like a dam behind her bottom lip, forcing her to do
something she hadn’t done in some time—pout.

Darcy raised an eyebrow just as a plump raindrop land-

ed on her neck and made its icy way down her back. It
was then that Elizabeth decided that smart, sophisticated
women of the world have to give in a little sometimes. She
slipped from his grip and slid into the cab.

“Where to?” the husky voice of the Rastafarian cab driver

ﬂ owed into the back seat like a ﬁ ne cloud of ganja.

“What is open this late?” Darcy asked Elizabeth as the

cab pulled away from the curb with a lurch.

“For what?” she asked.
“Dinner,” he smiled.
“I agreed to a cab ride home, not dinner Mr. Darcy.”

His brow creased. “I distinctly remember asking you to

dinner.”

“And my reply was ‘I don’t think so’.” She smiled back at

him primly and leaned forward on the creaking seat to give
the driver an address.

“You said you haven’t eaten,” he persisted.
“Correct, and you said the same,” she replied.

His frown deepened. “You must be hungry.”

“I am,” she admitted, though a timely growl of her stom-

ach would have given away her lie if she had tried it.

“Th

en what is the problem?”

“I don’t know the Heimlich maneuver,” she quipped. So

far the cab ride had been uneventful, but throwing dinner
into the mix was surely just asking for something heinous
to happen.

“Pardon me?”
“Forget it. I have a nice ham sandwich waiting for me in

my refrigerator.”

“You can’t be serious. I’ll take you wherever you would

like to go, just name the place.”

“Here’s perfect,” she answered as the cab pulled up before

her apartment building. She looked at him expectantly and
he returned her gaze with confusion.

“I would rather not have to climb over you to get out,” she

hinted heavily.

“Surely you don’t…”
“Yes.”
“But it would be no problem to…”
“No.”
“Well, could you just…”
“Th

ird and Vine has a lovely hamburger joint open at this

hour. Th

ey should be able to whip you something up.”

Darcy clenched his jaw as he slipped from the cab to

let her out. Infuriating woman! He had never been turned
down before, much less in such a brusque manner.

“Its not that I don’t appreciate the oﬀ er. I just don’t trust

the response time of 911 at this hour. And you aren’t exactly
a breath of fresh karma,” she said as she stepped out of the
cab.

“What do you mean by that?” he asked, suddenly feeling

very defensive.

“Oh, come on. You have to admit that anytime I am re-

motely near you something breaks,” she laughed.

“So, that is what you think? I’m some form of bad luck for

you?” he was incredulous.

“Do you blame me?”

Darcy reﬂ ected a moment on their short but infamous

acquaintance. He mentally conceded she had some small
point. But that she had taken it and run, he had no doubt.

ere was only one thing for it.

“Th

en you must let me make it up to you; start over fresh

and prove to you otherwise,” he rocked back on his heels
and gave her a challenging look.

“You are incredibly persistent,” she stated.
“And you are unbelievably stubborn,” he replied.
“I’ll think about it.”
“You do that.”

Elizabeth nodded at him thoughtfully then turned to-

ward her apartment.

Darcy would later blame it on the rain, or low blood

sugar. Either way, the second kiss was just as unexpected
as the ﬁ rst, and for once Elizabeth was caught completely
oﬀ guard.

Leaving her stunned on the sidewalk, he climbed back

into the cab and sped oﬀ into the night.

Chapter 5

May 22

Wow, the sneak attack. I didn’t think Mr. Uptight had it in

him. I really wish I knew what he wants from me, with all this
kissing. Not that I mind the kissing, he’s quite good at it. But
what can he and I possibly have in common? I mean, this guy
is killing me. He is the walking deﬁ nition of snobby, and he’s

seen pretty up close and personal what I’m about. He can’t be
seriously interested. I swear, if this guy is just looking for a shag

I am totally going to…think about it.

May 22

Need to make reservations at 21 Club. Need to get

ﬁ t info for Christian Louboutin, something black with
straps, probably. Need to decide: Les Miserable in
London or Jersey Boys on Broadway? London would be
good, then we could take a side trip to Pemberley. Th

would be best, maybe we should just do that. Need to
call Mrs. Reynolds, and Josh about the jet.

“I

’ve extended my trip. Hope you don’t mind,” Darcy

tossed at Bingley as he entered his friend’s spa-
cious yet minimalist living room, cup of joe ﬁ rmly
in hand. Caroline smiled behind her demitasse of

Gevalia. Th

e Armani God was staying on a little longer…

how divine.

“Really? Wonderful! Are you up for sight-seeing then?

Jane will be here in a minute, and there is a little open-air

market that she’s been going on about. We though we’d
take it in. Care to join us?” Bingley prattled, surprised by
his friend’s change of heart but glad all the same.

Caroline studied her Adonis for signs of cracking. A man

of his caliber did not go traipsing about in open-aired mar-
kets like a common plebeian.

“No, thank you. I’ll leave that special treat to the both

of you,” Darcy answered as he took up the weekend edi-
tion of the Journal. Caroline smiled to herself once again. If
there was one thing she could count on, it was the fact that

William Darcy was nothing if not grade-A, untainted upper

crust. Exactly what she expected in a future husband.

“Too bad, then,” Bingley replied. “It sounds charming. I

do hope that you will get some fun in before you jet back
to London.”

Darcy’s gaze drifted oﬀ into middle space as his mind

turned over the many versions of fun he would like to en-
gage in on the way to London. Sadly, the doorbell rang,
bursting his bubble.

Bingley jumped from the sofa with a speed only found

in cheetahs and young men in the rut. Moments later he
came back with Jane in tow, and a subtle shade of mauve
smudged in the left corner of his bottom lip.

“Hello, Caroline, William,” Jane said sweetly as she en-

tered the room on Bingley’s arm.

Caroline smiled and rose from her chair, muttering

something about Dior and dry cleaners as she left the room.

William lowered his paper and gave Jane a nod of greeting.

Bingley oﬀ ered Jane a cup of coﬀ ee, which she kindly

accepted, then departed to the kitchen to fetch her a cup.

Once he left the room, Jane sauntered nonchalantly over to
Darcy and held out her hand.

“Here,” she said under her breath as she slid a small rectan-

gular booklet with a yellow post-it attached to its front into
his front shirt pocket. Darcy smiled and removed it quick-
ly, ﬂ ipping the booklet open to see a miniature Elizabeth

Bennet smiling back at him. Closing the cover, he noted

the post-it and the information written on it. Nodding with
satisfaction, he looked up at Jane.

“Th

ank you,” he said simply.

“Anytime,” she replied and returned to her place upon the

sleek, sterile sofa.

“No sisterly words of warning for me? No “Hurt her and

I’ll hunt you down” threats?” he quipped.

“Are you kidding?” Jane laughed. “No, wait. I do have one.

William Darcy, be careful around my sister. She bites.”

Coloring slightly, Darcy muttered under his breath, “I’m

counting on it.”

Bingley returned from the kitchen with Jane’s coﬀ ee.

Darcy had no wish to sit watch the lovebirds coo over one

another, so he politely excused himself to his room. Once
safely behind closed doors, he pulled out his cell phone.

“Hello, Christian. It’s William Darcy. I am well, and you?

Wonderful. Listen, I need a favor. I need a pair of size 7 in

something black. What do you suggest? Really? You will
call ahead, then, and I can just pick them up there? Perfect,
thank you. Yes, she is—quite.”

Elizabeth Bennet had never been so nervous about a ﬁ rst

date in her life. She still couldn’t believe that she had agreed
to go out with the pretty boy, though for the life of her she
couldn’t come up with a good reason not to. So a couple of
nasty things had happened when he was around, so what.
She was not one to hold a grudge forever. And after all, he
was damned cute—among other things. But, even so, there
was just something about him that made her insides scream.
Now, whether that scream was orgasmic or incensed she
had yet to put a ﬁ nger on.

At two p.m. exactly came the expected knock upon her

door. Elizabeth had been ready for over an hour, shocked at
her own punctuality and not a little curious at the strange
hour he had requested they meet. Jumping up from the sofa,
she hurried to the door, pulling herself up short to get a grip
before opening it.

“Hello, Mr. Darcy,” she smiled, happy her voice sounded

much more controlled than she felt. He stood before her,
hands behind his back, head slightly dipped, dressed to kill
in a sleek pair of wool trousers and dark dinner jacket, his
crisp shirt tie-less and slightly unbuttoned.

“William,” he corrected as he stepped forward, bringing

a large rectangular box from behind his back. It was black
and tied up with a dark red bow. Elizabeth’s heart skipped a
beat. Gorgeous men just didn’t go around giving her swanky
gifts everyday. She felt a little giddy, and a lot seduced.

“William,” she tossed back smartly as she stepped back-

ward into the apartment, gently taking the proﬀ ered box.

“Th

ank you. You shouldn’t have,” she said with all polite-

ness.

“Well, actually, I should have. After all, you said I owed

you.”

Elizabeth tossed him a questioning look as she took the

present over to the sofa and set it upon the coﬀ ee table.
Sitting down, she motioned for him to join her.

Darcy watched as she slid the ribbon from the box and

removed the lid. He smiled as she gasped and pulled a stun-
ning pair of black, strappy shoes from the box. He couldn’t
have been happier as she gasped again at the sight of the
red soles. Kicking oﬀ her current shoes, she reverently
slipped her feet into her ﬁ rst ever pair of Louboutins. On a
cloud, she walked across the room in them, testing their ﬁ t.
Nothing less than perfect.

“What do you think?” she asked, her eyes alight with joy

as she spun carefully—the soft skirt of her black dress twirl-
ing about her.

“Perfect,” he smiled. She liked them. Contentment settled

into his breast.

“I can’t accept them, you know,” she said wistfully.
“Why ever not?”
“Because I know what these are worth, and they are far

more expensive than the pair that broke. But I do thank
you for the chance to have tried them on,” she answered,
slipping the shoes oﬀ with as much reverence as she had
while putting them on.

“Elizabeth, I had those set aside especially for you. No

one else will have them, so if you don’t want them they are
going straight into the rubbish bin.”

She gave him the “Yeah, right,” eyebrow.

“I am not joking,” he continued, deadpan.

Elizabeth looked again at the condemned shoes. Well, if

it meant saving a life.

Slipping them back on, she leaned down and kissed him

softly. “Th

ank you.”

Darcy coughed slightly and smiled at her again. “We bet-

ter go,” he said, “ we’ve a plane to catch.”

“Plane?” Elizabeth stepped back, suddenly confused.
“Yes, plane,” he answered as he rose from the sofa and

straightened his jacket.

Elizabeth was taken aback, and a small part of her want-

ed to demand an answer, but over the years she had learned
that being sassy 24/7 got her where she was today. Alone.

Maybe it would be okay to kick back just once and go with
it. It wasn’t every day that she was whisked away on a plane

to some surprise destination for a date with a gorgeous,
wealthy man.

Elizabeth felt as if she was caught up in a whirlwind, as

they sped from her apartment in a hired car toward a private
airﬁ eld just outside the city. Little was said between them,
as Darcy made a series of calls on his cell phone. She would
have been put out by his inattention if her eavesdropping
hadn’t informed her that he was ﬁ nalizing arrangements
for their ﬂ ight. But try as hard as she might, she could not

ﬁ gure out where they were going.

As she watched the city skyline whiz by, Elizabeth tingled

with anticipation. She had never felt so spoiled before. Most
of her dates had been one step above an evening of bowling
and McDonalds. Th

is was almost magical in comparison,

and the thrill of it all gave even the familiar sight of her
hometown a fresh appeal.

In no time, the car pulled through the gates of the air-

ﬁ eld. A sleek jet sat patiently upon the tarmac, the slender
rollaway stairs poised at the ready—waiting to lead them

from the mundane world into the enchanted unknown. As
the car came to a stop a short distance from the jet, Darcy
opened his door and stepped out. Turning, he reached back
inside and oﬀ ered Elizabeth his hand. She accepted it, and
stepped from the car as well. Pausing a moment before
moving on to the plane, Elizabeth looked around her and

wondered if Jackie O. had ever had it better.

A trim ﬂ ight attendant stepped forward to greet them as

they entered the cabin.

“Good afternoon,” she welcomed them with a smile, which

Elizabeth endeavored to return but was quickly distracted

by the subtle elegance of the plane’s interior. She had never
been intimate with the likes of Lear or Gulfstream, had nev-
er felt the need to drop such names at cocktail parties, but
she was sure that her limited knowledge of the ﬁ ner points
of air travel would not diminish the major league enjoyment
she was about to get out of her ﬁ rst experience on a private
plane.

While Elizabeth walked ahead, running a hand over the

buttery cream-colored leather of the oversized seats, Darcy
spoke quietly with the ﬂ ight attendant assuring that all was
as he had ordered it. Th

e woman conﬁ rmed that his re-

quests were fulﬁ lled to his speciﬁ cations, then turned to
secure the cabin.

“Having fun?” Darcy asked as he watched Elizabeth twirl

in her chair like a little girl.

“Oh, yeah,” she smiled as she sank deeper into the leather,

closing her eyes and sighing with contentment. Darcy took
a seat in the next chair and turned it to face her. Feeling his
gaze settle upon her, Elizabeth cracked open an eye.

“Any chance of you telling me where all this leads?”

Darcy’s mind took a sudden and swift plunge into the

gutter, and he choked a moment on the answer that cheek-
ily wanted to ﬂ y from his mouth.

“Oh my god!” Elizabeth exclaimed, catching the drift of

his mind in the look of his eye and snapping to attention
at the edge of her chair. “What kind of girl do you think I
am?”

He winced, because he had been caught dead to rights

in a very naughty thought process. He had not been gutter
surﬁ ng when he had arranged the whole evening, but her
wording had caught him very much oﬀ guard and now he
was going to have a hard time convincing her otherwise.
But he was not one to give up too easily.

“I’m not sure yet, Elizabeth. Why don’t you tell me what

kind of girl you are?” He leaned toward her just a fraction.

An engaging tension began to build between them as they

held each other’s gaze. In all honesty, Elizabeth wasn’t sure
exactly what kind of girl she really was right at that moment.

“International woman of intrigue. I could tell you, but

then I would have to kill you. And I would hate to make a
mess of such a lovely plane,” she smiled and sat back in her
chair, crossing her legs with a sultry slowness.

e ﬂ ight attendant interrupted any further conversation

to inform them that the captain was preparing for take-oﬀ .

“Is there something I should do?” Elizabeth asked, look-

ing around herself for anything that seemed to need do-
ing. Darcy reached out and turned Elizabeth’s chair, then
locked it in place for her before doing the same for himself.

“Just buckle up, James Bond,” he drawled.

e engines roared to life as the plane pushed forward

down the long strip of tarmac, building the speed necessary
to break free of gravity’s demanding pull. A sudden bout of
nerves caused Elizabeth to grip her armrest.

“Scared?” Darcy asked, covering her hand with his own.
“Take-oﬀ s just aren’t my favorite. I’ll be ﬁ ne in a moment,”

she answered. Th

e plane surged forward, ﬁ nally leaping el-

egantly from the earth—thumbing its multi-million-dollar
nose at the ground that receded below it. Th

ough expected,

the transition still made Elizabeth’s stomach drop. She
grabbed Darcy’s hand for support, and he wove his ﬁ ngers
through hers, squeezing gently. She felt herself relax as the
plane gained altitude and began to level out.

“Better now?” he asked, rubbing small circles on her hand

with his thumb.

“Yes, much.”

e attendant appeared again, bringing a tray of beau-

tifully arranged tidbits and setting it upon the sleek ma-
hogany table that was bolted before their chairs. She then
went out again, and returned with a bucket of ice, a bottle
of wine and two ﬂ uted glasses.

“Anything else, Mr. Darcy,” she asked crisply as she added

the wine and glasses to the table.

“No,” he replied, “this is wonderful. I can take it from

here.”

“I will be in the cockpit if you should need anything. Th

captain estimates that ﬂ ight time should be around three
hours.”

“Th

ank you,” Darcy nodded. With a smile, the attendant

disappeared to the front of the plane.

“Th

ree hours?” Elizabeth inquired. “Are you planning on

telling me where we are going, or will I have to sit here and
stew in suspense?”

“Would you like some wine? And here, have something to

eat,” he deﬂ ected, popping open the bottle and pouring the
dark liquid into each of their glasses.

“No hints even?” she prodded.
“We have three hours, Elizabeth. I’ll think about it and

get back to you,” he answered, smiling mischievously.

She contemplated his face as she sipped her wine, not

only searching it for clues but also for deeper signs of his
character and intent. He was very handsome, she liked that
about him for sure. But she wasn’t so shallow that looks and
money would sway her into a bad decision. She really hoped
there was more to him.

“So, do you own this plane?” she asked ﬁ rst, watching

him closely for signs of the braggart. Nothing was more
repulsive than a man who ﬂ aunted his wealth.

“Yes,” he answered simply.
“It is beautiful. It must have cost you a fortune,” she

pushed a little further.

“I found that, with the amount I travel for work, it actual

saves me money in the end. It also saves the pride of many
an airport employee, as I can be very irritable when faced

with long queues, ﬂ ight delays and body cavity searches.
I’ve never been fond of those.”

Elizabeth laughed.

“So, I know that you have one sister—Jane. Do you have

others?” he asked, beginning an inquest of his own.

“I have four sisters altogether,” she replied.
“Four? Impressive. No boys?”
“No boys.”
“Your father must have been overrun,” he laughed.
“You don’t know the half of it,” she groaned.
“And you? Are you youngest? Oldest?”
“Second oldest. Jane is older. After me comes Mary, Kitty

and then…Lydia,” she ended ﬂ atly.

“Trouble?”
“And how. She’s all of 15 going on 30 and taking Kitty

with her. Mary, well her only problem is a penchant for the
eccentric.”

“And your parents? Tell me about them,” Darcy urged.
“How about I don’t and say I did,” was her only reply.
“I’m sorry, did I hit a nerve?”
“No. Its just that…well, I have this theory.”
“Do tell.”
“Okay,” Elizabeth said, slipping oﬀ her shoes and tucking her

feet underneath her as if settling for a good story. “My theory is
that God gives people parents like mine so that they don’t get
too comfortable at home. Its far easier to leave the nest.”

“Were they mean?” he asked carefully, not wanting to dig

at a wound if one existed.

“Oh, no. Not even close. Don’t get me wrong, I love them

dearly. Its just that they are the kind of people you don’t
want to be caught out in public with,” she laughed.

“Ah,” he replied, relieved. “Th

at bad?”

“Th

ere is a good side. Without their special brand of cra-

ziness, I would not be the independent woman I am today.

But, enough about me. How about you? Do you have any

siblings?”

“Yes, one. A much younger sister. Georgiana,” he said, his

voice laced with fondness.

“I can tell you are fond of her. How old is she?”
“Sixteen.”
“And you still like her? Th

at is a miracle,” Elizabeth

teased.

“She’s a sweet girl,” he answered with pride. If he had any

tendency toward bragging, Elizabeth decided, then it would
in this area, and she could ﬁ nd no fault in it.

“Your parents are lucky to have it so easy, then,” she teased

once more.

Darcy’s smile dropped slightly as a faint melancholy set-

tled behind his eyes. Elizabeth caught on immediately and
felt like a heel.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“No, please. You didn’t know. Th

ey’ve been gone for sev-

eral years now,” he responded, grabbing her hand to assure
her she had not oﬀ ended him.

A few moments of uncomfortable silence passed between

them, which each tried to ﬁ ll with bites of cheese laden
crackers and sips of wine. Feeling a need to break the ten-
sion, Darcy asked about Elizabeth’s work, and they soon fell
back into an easy conversation. For levity, Elizabeth hinted
a little about Mr. Lucas and his crazy love life—explaining
the need for the gossip rags, but when Darcy tried to pin
her down about the object of her employer’s aﬀ ection she
deﬂ ected by saying it was not her story to tell.

A lapse in conversation brought them to their third un-

comfortable moment of the evening, but this time the ten-
sion was more erotic in nature. During Elizabeth’s tale of her
boss’s troubles, Darcy found that his eyes had drifted from
her laughing eyes to her lips. Her easy manners, and the
relaxing properties of the wine, had loosened him up a little.

His eyes drifted about her face as she laughed, taking in her

features and ﬁ nding them more than pleasing. She was dif-
ferent, with her strange band, her ﬂ ip remarks, and the fact
that his money didn’t make her knees buckle and her eyes
bat. She was a good kind of diﬀ erent. Hell, he might even

venture to say she was the best kind of diﬀ erent.

Sometime during his quiet speculation she had stopped

talking. He hadn’t noticed when exactly. What really cap-
tured his attention was the alluring way her tongue sud-
denly stroked her top lip. It pulled him forward from his
chair like a magnet. On his knees before her he leaned into
her, seeking to capture that tongue with his own. And he
did, with soft, spiraling sweeps. Th

e power of his blood,

pushed through his veins with the supercharged beating of
his heart, stoking him like a ﬁ re. And her response! Th

way her lips melted and merged with his own, her ﬁ ngers
darting into his hair, around his neck, pulling him into
her—drove him on.

With raw nerves, his hands slipped around her hips, pull-

ing her forward into him, the shift of her body and their

connection at the lips moving him further over her. In a
soft, curvy sweep, Elizabeth drew a leg over his hip and
he lost it. He ran a hand over it, never leaving her mouth,
reading the soft skin of her upper thigh like a blind man
reads Braille. It was when his ﬁ ngers hit the rough, lacy
top of her thigh high stockings that he was truly undone.

He growled against her lips, his blood heated beyond his

control. Sitting back from her, he pulled her hips toward
him again and ran his hands over the fabric of her skirt,
then under it pushing it softly, slowly upward—his eyes
following the progress of her hem, all the while watching
for the lace. Damn but did he love a well-turned pair of
stockings.

Elizabeth sat back, breath ragged with want as Darcy

ran his hands over her. He was hitting all the right notes
with her, and she couldn’t care less at that moment how
fast things were moving. Th

is man knew where and how to

touch her, and that was a rare thing indeed.

As his hands slid higher, the top of her stockings were

revealed. A little further yet and her silky thigh came into
view. Slowly, he bent down and kissed her upon that deli-
cious piece of ﬂ esh. And for him, the earth moved.

It did for Elizabeth, as well.

And the attendant
And the captain.

In seconds, Darcy was sprawled on his ass on the cabin
ﬂ oor, wondering what hit him. Over the speakers, the cap-

tains voice rang out.

“Mr. Darcy, sir. We just lost engine two. We are going to

have to go in for an emergency landing.”

“Corfu!” Elizabeth heard Darcy growl as he left the cock-

pit and he pulled out his cell-phone while they rolled to a
stop on what looked to be a small airstrip. “How did you
overshoot England altogether?”

She began to worry a little as she watched Darcy pace

back and forth from the cockpit to the kitchenette, rubbing
his forehead in agitation. If he was so worried, maybe she
should be as well.

“Josh, this is Darcy. We have a problem. I need you to call

me as soon as you get this message,” he spoke curtly into
his phone then disconnected, typed another number and
shoved the phone back to his ear.

“Bingley. Hello. Not well really, we have ended up in

Corfu. Corfu. Yes, the island just oﬀ Greece. I have no idea.

What? We blew an engine. Wait, listen, please. I’ve left a

message for Josh, would you please try to reach him for
me as well. Yes, we are ﬁ ne. Yes, tell Jane that she is ﬁ ne.

e plane landed safely, but we need Josh here as soon as

possible. Th

ank you, Charles. You are a good friend. I will,

thank you.”

Elizabeth watched as Darcy pocketed his cell, straight-

ened his jacket, took a deep breath and approached her. Th

attempts at a comforting smile played upon his lips.

“Well,” he started tentatively, but obviously the internal

script ended there, because he was left shifting his weight
and running his hand through his hair.

“Well,” she replied shakily.
“I am almost of the mind that you are right. About the

whole jinx thing,” he laughed uncomfortably.

“Are you now?”
“I’m very sorry. Th

is is not at all what I had in mind.

London, Les Mis, dinner—that was what I had planned.
Not this.” As he spoke, he paced, tension ﬂ owing head to

toe like a current. Elizabeth felt pity on him, because really
this wasn’t his fault. He had been planning on taking her
to London for the evening. Besides Paris, what could be
more romantic? And just before the cursed engine malfunc-
tion…hello, what a before! No, she would reserve judgment
and give him a fair shake. So long as she could get some-
thing to eat before the night was out—and things did not
get worse.

“Where did you say we are?” she asked.
“Corfu. Do you know it?” he replied.
“I’ve heard of it, have seen pictures. How long until help

comes?”

“It all depends on when I hear back from my assistant,

Josh,” he answered distractedly, his mind returning to the

problems at hand.

“Are we stuck here until he calls?”
“Well, I…what do you mean? You mean go out? You want

to go out?” he asked, confused.

“I’ve never been to Corfu,” she smiled, hoping to persuade

him. Being so close to something she had never experienced
before was like being a child again on Christmas morning.

“Its dark here, I don’t know how much you will actually

get to see,” he hesitated. Th

ere was nothing he was familiar

with here, though he had visited once before in his college
days.

Elizabeth stepped forward and touched his arm. “Please,

William. Th

is whole emergency landing thing has worked

up my nerves. Can we just go take a look around while we
wait? You have your cell with you. And besides, I’m starv-
ing.”

“Of course,” he jumped into action. Elizabeth was hungry,

this he could ﬁ x. Between the attendant and the captain,
the door was opened and another thin staircase was rolled
into place. Th

e warm air, tinged with the salty bite of the

Ionian Sea, welcomed them as they emerged from the plane.
Elizabeth breathed in deeply. She had visited the beaches of
Florida growing up and was familiar with the smell of sea

air, but this was diﬀ erent.

ey were quickly ushered through a small terminal,

through customs, through an interesting blend of locals and
tourists until Darcy spotted the exchange counter where he
quickly converted some currency. Pushing the ﬁ nal way out

of the terminal, they were free and clear and back out in
the open air. Again Elizabeth breathed heavily, knowing
she wouldn’t have much time to soak in the experience and
wanting to make the most of it.

Once outside, Darcy’s cell began to ring. It was Josh,

and he was contrite. He swore that he would have a car for
them at the terminal in ﬁ ve minutes and that dinner reser-
vations and a hotel for the evening would soon follow. As
for the plane, he could have that looked at ﬁ rst thing in the
morning, but if that was not soon enough he could arrange
seats on the ﬁ rst commercial ﬂ ight out of there, ﬁ rst class
of course. Darcy ran that past Elizabeth, who said “Dinner
now, everything else later.”

True to his word, Josh’s hired car was there within ﬁ ve

minutes. A trim, olive-skinned man with gorgeous dark hair
hopped out of the car and opened the door for them. He
smiled with that special, indescribable beauty that graced
the people of Greece. Elizabeth felt herself blush a little as
his eyes lit upon her.

Soon they were speeding away, weaving between com-

pact cars and mopeds, down impossibly small and crowd-
ed streets lined with gaily light eateries and night spots.
Elizabeth peered out her window at the three and four sto-
ried hotels, balconies overﬂ owing with youth laughing and

yelling to one another.

“Where you go?” the driver turned and asked. His pas-

sengers tensed, sure that his inattention to the road would
be the end of them.

“We need to eat,” Darcy called back.
“Oh, yes. Very nice. I know just the place,” the driver an-

swered with exuberance.

Josh rang again as the car zipped through the crazy mé-

lange. It seemed that all of the better hotels were booked
solid, but he was able to book rooms for them at a place
called the Pink Palace. Darcy savored that name like it
was a mouthful of freshly squeezed lemon juice. At best, it
sounded like a gay romp in the park, at worst…

As for dinner, Josh’s quick arrangements were soon over-

ridden as the car pulled up before a quaint, brightly lit res-
taurant that oﬀ ered outdoor seating with white tablecloths
and everything. Th

e driver turned to the couple and smiled.

“Here we are. Th

is, very good. You will like very much,”

he smiled, again, in a way that made Elizabeth’s face grow
very hot.

“No, wait,” Darcy answered, still in discussions with Josh.

“We need to go to Kato Korakiana, the Etrusco.”

“No, you eat here. Trust me!” the driver insisted.
“No, really we have reservations at the Etrusco,” Darcy

stated ﬁ rmly, not wanting to get into a debate with the
man.

“Here is ﬁ ne,” Elizabeth cut in, opening her door.
“Elizabeth?” Darcy caught at her hand, trying to pull her

back into the car.

“I’m starving, and this looks great. Besides, I can probably

get in there, eat and be back before you two ﬁ nish ﬁ ghting
about it.”

“But you don’t have the right money,” he argued.

Elizabeth slipped her hand into her purse and pulled out

a credit card. “Visa is everywhere I want to be,” she quipped
and pulled away.

Darcy grumbled and groused as she walked toward the

restaurant, then turned to the driver. “Here’s ﬁ ne. We will
be done in an hour, then we need to go to the Pink Palace.
Do you know it?”

“You go there?” the driver’s smile widened.
“Yeees,” Darcy drawled suspiciously.
“I know it. I’ll take you, no problem.”

Darcy exited the car with a sense of pending doom. Th

had gone way too easily.

He joined Elizabeth just as she was being approached by

the waiter. Th

ey were seated outside and oﬀ ered a carafe of

the house wine. Where Darcy hesitated, Elizabeth jumped
right in and found the oﬀ ering delightful. Sweet, with a
hint of apple.

Elizabeth had no idea what to order, so asked the waiter

what he suggested. He seemed to know just what to bring
them. She sank back into her chair, savored the wine, and

settled in for some great people watching. Darcy ﬁ dgeted
uncomfortably with his napkin.

“You need to relax,” she said without looking at him.
“Probably so.”
“Have some of the wine, its very good,” she said as she

passed him the carafe.

“No, thank you.”
“Loosen up, Senor Snobby, and try something new. We

have a whole new experience right here before us. I, for one,
will be making the most of it. Goodness knows when I will
ever get to do something like this again,” she smiled and
lifted her glass, winking at him as she sipped.

Darcy poured some wine and tasted it. It really was not

bad. Not bad at all.

“You really see it that way? Because all I see at this point

is ruination of a well laid plan,” he muttered.

“Yes, I see it that way exactly. Tell me something. Why

did you want to take me to London?”

“Because I wanted to share it with you,” he said quietly.

Her pulse sped up a little, and she reached out and

touched his hand. “We could share this. It could be a great
adventure instead of a disastrous trip,” she said seriously.

“True,” he succumbed to her optimism, taking her hand

in his and holding it softly.

Dinner came in three courses, and each was made more

delectable by good conversation and a renewed appreciation
for the uniqueness of their surroundings.

An hour ﬂ ew without notice, and soon the car pulled to

the curb within sight. Darcy and Elizabeth quibbled over
the bill, with him showing her that, though Visa may be
accepted everywhere she had a Capital One card and that

wasn’t going to ﬂ y. He then threw down enough to cover
dinner as well as a substantial tip. Th

e couple was warmly

thanked as they left.

ey sat in comfortable silence as the car whizzed through

the darkened countryside from Corfu Town to Agios

Gordios. Th

e wine and the smooth ride lulled Elizabeth,

and before she knew it she out like a light.

When she ﬁ nally awoke, she found they had come to a

stop outside an immense, sprawling series of buildings that
glowed coral and white in the light of the halogen lamp-
posts. Th

e driver turned. “Welcome to the Pink Palace.”

“Gloriﬁ ed youth hostel,” Darcy muttered under his breath

as they left the check-in counter some ﬁ fteen minutes later.
Elizabeth was laughing heartily, her room key swinging
merrily in her hand.

“Th

ere you go again with the doom and gloom. Its just

one night of your life, lighten up,” she teased. “Or do you
think you are going to catch a bad case of common if you
rub elbows with a few backpackers?”

Darcy was about to respond, but was cut oﬀ .

“Oh, look!” Elizabeth grabbed his arm and pointed toward

the left where an open door revealed a smallish nightclub
setting. Colored lights ﬂ ashed erratically as a wildly pulsing
beat boomed from large speakers throughout the room. A
mass of bodies danced with abandon as the strains of some
song circa 1970 was overlaid with a fast modern beat.

“No,” Darcy said ﬁ rmly. He had his limits, after all.
“Yes,” she smiled and tugged at his arm.
“No,” he said again, grabbing her hand and pulling back.
“Oh, come on. Live a little,” she tugged again.
“Not no, Elizabeth, but Hell No,” he returned the tug.

She frowned, “Just a little dancing? A very little?”

“I don’t dance.”

She grabbed his lapels and pulled him to her. “Yeah, but

I do,” she drawled saucily. “What else is there to do right
now? Please?”

He caved. Like a cheese souﬄ

é.

Elizabeth pulled him onto the ﬂ oor and slipped her shoes

oﬀ , holding them possessively in one hand as she bounced
along with the crowd around them. Darcy grimaced and
looked around at the eclectic group of people surrounding
them. Th

en the song changed.

“Is that…Sesame Street?” he shouted, trying to be heard

over the raved out theme of the well-known children’s tele-
vision show.

“I think so,” Elizabeth laughed as a nearby group of young

women hooked her arms and pulled her into an impromptu
line dance. She threw Darcy a delighted look as she passed
him by, and had a complete ﬁ t of giggles as she saw the girls
drag him along soon after. Th

e girl on his left told him sever-

al times to smile, in multiple languages just in case, while the
girl on his right showed him how to kick his legs out in time
to the music. His sad ﬁ rst attempts had them all in stitches,
and he ﬁ nally broke down and laughed at himself as well.

Just as Darcy was catching the rhythm, the song ended

and an older man called for attention from the center of the
room. People parted like the Red Sea and formed a large
ring around one Dr. George as trays of ouzo were passed
around for the taking. Elizabeth smiled and shrugged her
shoulders as they listened the man talk of old times, then
break out into traditional dance while drinking his ouzo
and tossing plates upon the ﬂ oor. Everyone yelled along
with his performance and drank ouzo in abundance. It was
hard to ﬁ ght the contagious exuberance of the crowd, so

Darcy gave up trying. Th

e sheer delight on Elizabeth’s face

taught him a valuable lesson that evening. With the right
company, fun could be had wherever you were.

A few more songs, a few more shots of ouzo and even

Elizabeth had had enough. Arm in arm they strolled lan-
guidly toward their rooms. Stepping outside the main

building, they turned right toward another when a long,
sleek black car pulled up not ten feet away. A swarthy youth
jumped out and opened the back door, and a pair of tanned,
shapely, incredibly long legs emerged from the silky dark-
ness. Elizabeth hesitated, wanting to see, in that innate
critical way that women possess, just what kind of woman

would follow those legs out. It didn’t take long before she
got her answer. Nordic Princess.

Cool, blond, svelte, sickening. Th

e impeccably clad, per-

fectly manicured goddess slipped from the car and ﬂ oated
on her impossibly long legs straight for them. Darcy halted,
and as Elizabeth examined his face for his reaction to the
blonde bombshell she saw recognition in his eyes. Self-pres-
ervation kicked in, and she stiﬀ ened and slid her arm away
from his. She had no idea who this chick was, but she didn’t
like the way things were shaping up so far.

Without a word, and without giving Darcy a chance to

say any either, the woman sidled up to him and planted on
hell of a kiss upon his unprepared lips. Once satisﬁ ed, she
pulled back slowly and smiled.

“Caroline!” he said in shock.
“Darling, I’ve come to save you,” she purred.

Darcy turned toward Elizabeth, to explain what must

have looked pretty nasty from her perspective. But she was
gone.

“Save me?” Darcy snapped distractedly as he turned right

and left, looking for Elizabeth.

“You are in Corfu, William. Need I say more?” Caroline

watched him with interest. Th

is was a side of Darcy she

had never seen. One where his usual iron-clad composure
and impeccable manners were absent. Th

e possible reasons

made the hair stand up on the back of her neck.

Without a word, Darcy stalked oﬀ toward the rooms,

climbed the staircase to the second ﬂ oor, and following
the numbers, found Elizabeth’s door just two down from
his own. He knocked—no answer. He tried the handle—
locked. He knocked again and called her name—nothing.

Looking over the railing of the open-air walkway outside

the long row of doors, Darcy scanned the surrounding area

from his higher vantage point. Th

e only signs of life were a

few drunken couples staggering of toward their own rooms
and Caroline, who stood patiently below studying her nails
under the orange tinge of the halogen street lamps.

He knocked on Elizabeth’s door again but came up with

the same. Frustrated, he strode back down the stairs and to

Caroline.

“Problem?” she said sweetly upon his return.
“Did you see which way she went?” Darcy asked brusquely.
“Who?”
“Elizabeth?”
“Who?” Caroline repeated, raising her eyebrow in mock

confusion.

“Th

e woman that was just with me,” he barked, loosing

what little patience he had left.

“I didn’t see anyone,” she purred as she stepped forward

and ran a hand softly down the lapel of his jacket.

Darcy pushed her hand away and rubbed his forehead

in irritation.

Caroline stepped even closer to whisper in his ear.

“William, you are making a fool of yourself over a nobody.

Come on, I’ll take you home where you belong.”

“Why are you here?” Darcy asked in irritation as he

stepped back away from her once again.

“Because Charles said you were in trouble, and, well

frankly William I have far more connections than your as-
sistant does. So, while Josh is still back home trying to ar-
range a commercial ﬂ ight for you I’m here in person with
a private plane to save you from a fate worse than death,”

Caroline smiled seductively.

“Fate worse than death?”
“Yes, darling. Social suicide. I can just see it now…

‘William Darcy seen canoodling with low rent chippie at

one star hotel’. What will your Aunt Cathy say?”

“Low rent chippie?” A third voice chimed in behind

William. He spun around to face the ticking time bomb

that was Elizabeth.

“Another country heard from,” Caroline muttered under

her breath.

“Where did you go?” he asked, grabbing her hand and

pulling her closer.

“You have the key to my room. Th

e front desk won’t give

me another. May I have it, please?” Elizabeth’s voice was
cold and controlled as she pulled her hand away from his
grasp.

“I’ll walk up with you. We need to talk,” Darcy said, glad

to not only have a chance to settle things with Elizabeth but
to get away from Caroline as well.

“William,” Caroline interrupted sharply.
“Shut it, Caroline and go home. I don’t need anymore

of your help,” he snapped as he took Elizabeth’s arm and
began to pull her away from the scene.

“So, is this how you talk to women, ’Shut it, Caroline’?”

Elizabeth snapped as well, snatching her arm away from

him once again. “I’ll take that key, now, and you can stay
the hell away from me.”

“You should give her the key, William. Th

e girl is obvi-

ously very upset. She’s resorting to profanity,” Caroline in-
terjected smugly.

“What?” Elizabeth cried, turning to frown at Caroline

who smiled sweetly in return.

Darcy stepped between the women and reclaimed

Elizabeth’s attention.

“I just need a chance to explain things without the inter-

ruptions. Okay? Can we please go up and talk about this
privately?” Darcy hadn’t realized before that he still had
Elizabeth’s key, and as it was now his only bargaining chip
he was not about to just hand it over.

“I’ve got an idea,” Elizabeth’s voice dripped with sarcasm,

“how about you give me that key. Th

en I will ﬁ nd my own

way home, you can ﬂ y oﬀ in your nice, cushy private jet.

And then we can pretend we never met. How does that

sound?”

“Wonderful!” Caroline butted in, again. “Smart girl. Lets

go, William.” She slipped her arm through his and pulled
him toward her waiting car.

“Caroline, I swear…” he began furiously, removing him-

self from her grasp.

“You swear what, William?” Elizabeth prodded.
“Nothing. She just needs to stay out of this. As a matter of

fact there would be no ‘this’ if she had not come at all,” he
growled in frustration.

“Oh, okay, I get it. You are done with her so she can just

get right the hell out of dodge. Was she last week’s girl and
I’m this week’s girl? Is this what I have to look forward
to?” Elizabeth bit back, planting her hands ﬁ rmly upon her
hips.

William raised his eyes to the heavens in desperate hope

of help, but God chuckled and left him to dig himself out
of this hole.

“I am most certainly not ‘last week’s girl’!” Caroline

snapped indignantly, feeling the need to set the record
straight with this little upstart—even if the girl was coming
to her defense more often than not.

“So you go around kissing men who are obviously out

with other women as a rule then?” Elizabeth said, swinging
her full attention and sarcasm at the statuesque harpy.

“It just so happens that William and I are very old, very

dear friends. Not that its any of your business,” Caroline
smiled smugly.

“Acquaintances, Caroline. Nothing more,” Darcy inter-

jected

“Th

en its just a case of bad manners,” Elizabeth gave back,

ignoring Darcy entirely.

Caroline nearly choked at the allegation. “Bad manners?

As if!” She barked before changing gears. “Th

ough I’m sure

you wouldn’t know any other kind if they smacked you in

the face.”

“Now that’s enough, Caroline” Darcy tried to cut in, but

he was woefully late.

Elizabeth crossed deep into Caroline’s personal space. “I

dare you,” she taunted. Th

ough she was certain the haughty

cow would back down, Elizabeth was so amped up that she
dearly hoped that Caroline gave her a reason to take a swing.

Darcy, concerned at the tone this argument was begin-

ning to take, stepped between the two overheated women
just in time…for Caroline to send resounding slap across
his right cheek. He stepped back stunned.

“Oh, William…darling! I’m so sorry,” Caroline’s hands

ﬂ ew to her mouth, shocked and horriﬁ ed by her mistake.

“Oh no you didn’t!” Elizabeth cried, just as concerned

that Darcy had just taken a hit for her as she was that

Caroline had actually intended to slap her. Without fur-

ther thought, Elizabeth dropped her shoulder and ran full-
steam into Caroline’s mid-section, plowing her right into
the still warm parking lot. Elizabeth had the distinct ad-

vantage, as she landed atop her prey, but before she could
get oﬀ a good, strong slap of her own, Darcy grabbed her
hand and stopped her. With one hand around her wrist and
one arm around her middle, he hoisted her from Caroline,

thus leaving her wide open for attack.

Caroline, whom to many an outsider would appear to be

the quintessential snob, had one advantage that Elizabeth
did not possess—years of growing up with an older brother.

And though Caroline’s family gave the world the impres-

sion they were old money, they were in fact very new money
and the majority of her youth had been spent ﬁ ghting with
her brother on the family’s farm in Nebraska.

So, knowing a good opportunity when she saw one,

Caroline went for it with a decided sucker punch to
Elizabeth’s solar plexus. Sadly, Darcy’s arm was in the way
and her blow glanced oﬀ his forearm causing him to release
Elizabeth with a yelp of pain.

Poor Caroline. All those years on the farm, with her

brother had not prepared her for the girl who, though she
had only sisters in her immediately family, had spent her

whole life amongst football player cousins who had dubbed
her very early in life as “the Terminator”.

Sadly for Caroline it was on like neckbone.
In a whirl of knees and elbows, ﬂ ying hair and scratch-

ing ﬁ ngernails, the two women fought to the death. For
one brief instant Caroline broke away and ﬂ ed for her life
toward the main building, ducking inside by the front desk
just as Elizabeth grabbed her for round two. Helplessly,
Darcy ran after them, looking for any opportunity to in-
tervene.

Within moments, the women were pushing through the

oﬃ

ce areas and into the club, where the evening’s drunken

revelers slowly took note of their scrabble and formed a ring
around them—hooting and hollering to egg the women on.
Darcy found himself swept up in the mass of people, unable
to reach the women to help.

Having gone the distance from the parking lot to cen-

ter of the club’s dance ﬂ oor, Elizabeth and Caroline found
themselves running out of steam. But both were determined
not to back down.

“What’s the matter, Carrie? Scared you are going to break

a nail,” Elizabeth huﬀ ed and puﬀ ed, taking one pathetic
swipe at a too distant Caroline.

“No body but my brother calls me that,” Caroline spat

back, mimicking Elizabeth’s wasted swing.

“Oh? And who is your brother? Because I’ll have my little

sister call him up so she can kick his ass, too!” Elizabeth

wheezed as she kicked her leg out, pathetically missing
again.

“Th

at’s Charles Bingley to you, you upstart. And he’s way

out of your family’s league,” Caroline snapped back, bend-
ing over at the waist to catch her breath.

“Charles Bingley? You are Charles Bingley’s sister?”

Elizabeth stopped her assault and looked at her enemy in

sudden awareness. Her mind ﬂ ashed back to overheard con-

versations between Darcy and his friend and the jokes made
at Caroline’s expense. She began to chuckle, then guﬀ aw,

then out right belly laugh until she fell into a tired heap on
the ﬂ oor.

“What’s so funny?” Caroline demanded with as much en-

ergy as she could muster.

“Charles…is…is dating…my sister, Jane,” Elizabeth

forced out.

“Jane? You are that Elizabeth?” Caroline gasped as much

from lack of air as surprise. “I love Jane!”

“She’s great, huh?” Elizabeth concurred. “Your brother is

wonderful, too. Th

ey are a matched set.”

“Absolutely. I had no idea that you were that Elizabeth,”

Caroline sagged into a nearby chair as the now bored crowd
wandered back to their drinks and partying.

“Back at you,” Elizabeth laughed again as she pushed her

self up from the ﬂ oor and fell into a chair next to Caroline.

Catching a passing waitress, she asked Caroline’s preference

for drink and ordered them a round. It was there that Darcy
found them, swapping stories about their siblings like long
lost friends. Confused, he looked around the room hoping
to locate the portal that had beamed him to the twilight
zone—in hopes that he could rush back to reality before
the damned thing disappeared. As fate would have it, he

was too late.

Within the hour, two very battered and bruised new

friends and one very sullen and confused man ﬂ ew back to
New York from Corfu.

Chapter 6

May 24

I am so embarrassed. If I had known Caroline was Charles’

sister I could have spared a few nails…and some pride. I
couldn’t even look at William the whole way back. He prob-
ably hates me now. I had a freaking brawl for goodness sakes,
right in front of him. Good lord, what he must think of me.

ere is no way I can ﬁ x this now. I hope he leaves soon, and I

can just forget I ever met him. Not that I really will…

May 24

What can I say about this weekend other than maybe

she was right—maybe I am a jinx. At least for her. Short
of a ﬁ ery crash, there was little more that could have
gone wrong. And the whole thing seemed to put her oﬀ
the idea of me completely. I think I should go home, af-
ter all. Th

is whole thing is becoming unbearable, and

I’ve debased myself enough over someone who doesn’t
even seem to like me. What am I doing, really, chas-
ing after a girl who throws down in hotel parking lots?
Sadly, Caroline is right, what would Aunt Cathy say?
I’ve really got to get out of here, before I do anything
else I’ll regret.

aroline leaned back into a sea of pillows, her eyelids
dropped lazily, her lips raised in a faint smile of
satisfaction. Silently, she prided herself on her abil-
ity to react quickly in a tense situation. Th

at dark

haired trollop had nearly gotten the best of her in Corfu,
and beyond the horror of having gotten into a rowdy brawl
in front of William, the thought of losing to such a hussy
would have been too much. So, retreat had been in order,
and Caroline had played the part of the eager new acquain-
tance to the hilt. Th

is had given her precious time to think,

and strategize, and it also kept the curly-mopped pugilist
away from William the entire trip home. Caroline could
have won an Oscar for her performance that night, espe-
cially when she had realized that the harlot was wearing
a perfectly delicious pair of Louboutins that she had been
sure had been ordered for her.

Her smile grew as she stretched out languorously in her

bed as her mind turned to Jane and Charles. Maybe, with
the right timing, she could bring down two birds with one
stone. A phone rang on the other side of her wall, bringing

Caroline out of her reverie. With a quickness, she pulled
a sleek stethoscope from beneath her pillow and put it in

place against the wall behind her headboard. Leaning in she
caught the chocolate baritone that haunted her dreams…

“Hello, Josh. I need a ﬂ ight home as soon as possible…”

Elizabeth awoke in a foul disposition. Jane had not an-

swered her phone or her cell last night, which had started

Elizabeth’s black mood. She desperately needed to talk to
her sister but had been cruelly rebuﬀ ed by fate. An Elizabeth
left too long to stew in her own juices was a bitter dish. So,
when her dark ruminations of the morning where inter-
rupted by a pounding on her apartment door, she was ready

to go nuclear all over whomever stood on the other side.

“What the hell…” Elizabeth began, but just as quickly

ended at the sight of a distraught Jane, tears streaming
down her face. In the battle between bitchy and blood, the
sisterly bond won out every time. Elizabeth opened her
arms silently and gave Jane a soft place to fall before leading
her into the apartment. It was some time, and several cups
of Earl Grey before Jane was ready to talk, but once the
words started the dam crumbled and it was all Elizabeth
could do to keep up. It seemed that Jane and Charles had
enjoyed the complete antithesis to her own weekend, hav-
ing spent Saturday in complete harmony while shopping
for antiques, strolling in the park and ending a perfect day
with a perfectly romantic meal at the Savoy. A strange jolt
of shock ran through Elizabeth as Jane related how she had
been sure Charles was going to ask her the big question that
night, and she paused a moment on that thought. Jane—no
longer a singular but a plural. Th

ough Elizabeth had known

her whole life it would happen sometime, the reality of it
was jarring. Th

e soft wave of paper before her face brought

her out of her reverie.

“What is this?” Elizabeth asked, taking the folded cream

stationary from her sister’s hand.

“Read it,” Jane hiccupped with averted eyes, as though

unable to speak aloud about its contents.

Elizabeth opened what now proved to be a letter and

followed its ﬂ owery script to the end where she found the
evidence of its author…ess. Much Love, Caroline.

ey had gone back to London, en masse. New York was

tiring, they had exhausted all acceptable forms of entertain-
ment their ﬁ rst week there, and Charles could telecommute
from home should he need to do any future work for the
New York oﬃ

ce. Dear William was most anxious that they

return as soon as possible, and he would not have Charles
stay another unaccompanied moment in such a place—for
who knew what the sweet, gullible lad would get himself
into. Th

ough Jane herself had been a highlight of their

trip, Caroline hoped dearly that she would understand that
there was no place like home and that she was welcome to

visit their not-so-humble abode anytime she was in the area.
Elizabeth made a selﬁ sh mental note that the invitation was

singular as she re-folded the letter and set it upon the coﬀ ee
table. Her anger robbed her of words, her sister having been
so ill used. And here she had thought Caroline had been
sincere. Elizabeth now saw she had fallen for the oldest trick
in the book.

A deep fury ignited like a pilot light in the pit of her

stomach, warming the bile into a slow simmer that became
a raging boil by days end. Jane had long since been put to
bed with a compress and a vodka chaser. It was eight p.m.

when Elizabeth decided that enough was enough. Sneaking
into the guest room where her dear sister lay crashed out as
if in a true Valley of the Dolls valium haze, she left a letter
of her own on the bedside table.

If William Darcy’s presence had been a jinx for Elizabeth

Bennet, his absence from the country was now her most

timely blessing. Th

e international counter at JFK was near

empty, as was the plane she was able to board within twen-
ty minutes of arrival. Her ﬂ ight was smooth and eventless,
with the subtle exception of being thirty minutes early.

By ten a.m. London time she was comfortably ensconced
within a ﬁ ne hotel, where she promptly called back to New

York, leaving a message for Mr. Lucas that she was very ill

and would not be coming in that day, possibly the next.

From there she began calling directory assistance, coming

across the ﬁ rst bump in her here-to-fore easy road. One

Mr. William Darcy was in possession of an unlisted num-

ber. Bollocks.

Luck returned, but her ire never ebbed, as she located his

business oﬃ

ces in London. One Pemberley Corp. by name.

Another number dialed, and aﬃ

rmation was gained that he

would indeed be in his oﬃ

ce that day. After a very convinc-

ing tale of late connecting ﬂ ights and unfortunate weather
delays, Elizabeth was able to wrangle an unusual and highly
coveted after-hours appointment with Mr. Darcy under the
name…Miss Fury.

And on the seventh hour of the plot she had created,

Elizabeth rested.

A four p.m. wake-up call roused her from sweet dreams

of revenge, and she showered and changed, primped and
polished as she created the perfect look to ﬁ t her very dark
mood. Once ﬁ nished she inspected herself in the ﬁ nely cut
mirror. Let him drool, she thought with a wicked smile. Let
him drool while I roast him alive. He will be sorry he ever tried

to keep Jane from the love of her life.

A gentle dusk had settled upon the London scene, and

Elizabeth stepped from a smart black cab in three inch

black Casadei heels. A sable trench billowed and snapped
in the chill breeze around her as she looked up at the tall
building that sported the name Pemberley Corporation in
tasteful lettering. Th

is was the time and now was the hour

and with an electric charge Elizabeth pushed forward into
the mire of battle. William Darcy may have been a bastion
of power within the world of high ﬁ nance, but Elizabeth
was a paragon of righteous indignation on behalf of her
sister—and he had better watch out.

It was after hours, and the building had settled into a

sleepy quiet as Elizabeth entered the foyer in long, purpose-
ful strides. Her heels tapped in announcement, and the lone
security guard looked up at her approach, a low whistle
emitting from his aged jowls as he noted her. Her trench
blew open with the force of her pace, and her crisp tailored
shirt strained against her chest, tight with puﬀ ed up pride
and indignation. Th

e dear old man gave her a bawdy wink

as she stopped at his desk.

“I have an appointment with Mr. Darcy,” she said coolly.
“And ain’t he the lucky one,” the man ﬂ irted as he handed

her a laminated pass.

“Oh, I don’t think he will see it as such,” she tossed back,

giving the man a saucy smile on her way out.

A bank of elevators awaited her, and her adrenaline,

underscored with a tingling of anticipation, bolstered her
nerve. God help him, he was so going to get it.

Elizabeth looked at the pass for the ﬂ oor she was des-

tined for, and pushed the button. Her reﬂ ection stared back
at her darkly as she rode the ﬂ uid contraption up and up to
the top most level. Nerves and synapses snapped in time to
the ringing of the elevator bell. Th

e doors slid open, dispel-

ling her image and bringing before her a reﬁ ned oﬃ

ce area.

e pass had told her that door 432 was her destination and

she followed a corridor to its location. Th

e sleek beveled

and etched glass sported his name in graceful lettering. She
entered to ﬁ nd that he had let his secretary go home for the
evening. Lucky girl.

Elizabeth pulled herself up short before his door. Th

moment had arrived and she had never felt so ready. Th

man was going down. It was one thing to mess with her,
to play with her and walk away so coolly, but it was an
entirely other thing to mess with her dear sweet Jane who
had never hurt a person in the whole of her life. If Charles
was what Jane wanted, then by God it was Charles Jane
would get and no personage of the name of Darcy would
say otherwise.

She gave no warning knock, instead she pushed the door

open and stepped inside, closing it ﬁ rmly behind her. A
richly appointed oﬃ

ce, in dark woods and black leather,

greeted her, smelling softly of woodsy cologne and wealth.
She frowned to ﬁ nd herself its sole occupant, a momentary
ﬂ agging of her spirits. But then she saw him, stepping from
an attached bath, his jacket tossed away upon a sleek sofa,
his tie its sole companion, his shirtsleeves rolled lazily just
below his elbows. He was unaware he was being watched
until she unconsciously took a sharp breath.

“Elizabeth?” he whispered. It was all he could manage.
“How dare you?” she whispered in return.
“What?” He breathed in confusion, taking an uncon-

scious step forward.

“How dare you take away my sister’s happiness,” her voice

grew stronger as she, too, stepped his way.

“I don’t understand what…”
“Charles! Th

at’s what I mean,” she bit into his words, leav-

ing him nothing to say. “You brought Charles back here
and out of harm’s way. So he couldn’t…what was the ex-
act wording…oh here it is ‘dear William would not have
Charles stay another unaccompanied moment in such a
place—for who knows what the sweet, gullible lad would
get himself into.’” Elizabeth read from the creamy station-
ary she had slipped gingerly from her inner coat pocket. She
raised her eyes from the damning script to level him with
an accusing gaze. “You deny this?”

“What is that? Where did you get it?” He asked, voice

rising in confusion.

“Your beloved Caroline, dear William” she spat like ven-

om.

“Th

at is not what I meant at all,” he began defensively.

“So! You don’t deny making Charles leave New York be-

fore he made a ‘mistake’,” she hurled the accusation like
a shot put, and her breath became ragged, her eyes shin-
ing with the joy of having cornered her quarry. Th

e sheer

exhilaration propelled her forward until she was two steps
short of being in his face.

“I don’t deny it, and I’m not sorry for it,” his voice dropped,

low and dangerous. Tension popped and crackled as they
faced oﬀ , and Darcy closed the distance between them.
Suddenly overshadowed by his height, and the dark light
playing behind his eyes, Elizabeth realized that he had her
pinned between himself and his large mahogany desk. She
bristled, far too caught up in her righteous indignation to
allow his testosterone-ﬁ lled attempts to cow her. In two ﬂ u-
id movements, Elizabeth tore oﬀ her trench then slid upon
his desk and scrabbled to her knees, bringing herself to his
eye level. She would be damned if she would give him the
higher ground.

“Of all the low down, dirty tricks I have ever seen,” she

ground out between clenched teeth as she planted her
hands ﬁ rmly upon her hips unconsciously popping the but-
ton holding her shirt closed across her chest. “You damned
snob. What did Jane ever do to you to label her a mistake?”

Darcy’s eyes slid down her face, her neck, to the newly

exposed ﬂ esh and bit of lace peeking out just lower than
what was proper. His eye twitched as he forced himself to
leave it alone and focus.

“Th

e mistake,” he growled as he closed the small gap be-

tween them, “was that a man should never ask a woman to
marry him without a proper ring, Elizabeth. His just hap-
pens to be in his family vault here in London. Several hun-
dred years old to be exact. I counseled Charles that if you
are going to do something, you should do it right and not
rush it. I mean, if she’s worth it and all. Don’t you agree?”
he ﬁ nished in her ear, his warm breath rustling the curls
resting on her neck.

“I…it…right,” she ﬁ nished ﬂ atly, her eyes seeming to con-

template some engrossing spot to her immediate right. She
became very still under the weight of his revelation.

“Elizabeth,” he called softly, turning her chin toward him

with a crooked ﬁ nger. Her gaze was slow to follow, but her
cheeks too quick to ﬂ ush. “Are you quite ﬁ nished?”

She swallowed hard once before she could speak. “Yes, well.

I guess that’s that then. Good advice really, and I…thank you.
For Jane…she’ll be…yes. Well,” she stammered to a stop, her

eyes again averting his gaze. Slowly Elizabeth slid from her
knees to sit fully upon his desk, but before she could slither
from it and bolt for the door Darcy stopped her.

“Are you quite ﬁ nished thinking the worst of me?” he

caught her face between his hands and forced her to look

at him. Softly she nodded her head. But try as she might,
the moment of tender compliance and humility could not
last. Sarcasm was her constant companion and would have
its say.

“Well,” she began, poker face in place, “you still are a jinx.

Granted, my heels have managed to survive, but I’m sure it
won’t be long before something happens. Robbers will mis-

take this for a bank and take us hostage, the building next
door will be scheduled for demolition and they will take
this one by mistake with us in it, or maybe…”

In one powerful sweep of his arm, Darcy reached around

her and swept his desk clean. Paperweights, pens, calendar,
ﬁ le folders all went sailing across the room like so much
dust in a wind storm. One tension traded for another as
Elizabeth staunched the ﬂ ow of her sarcasm vein and stilled
again under his dark gaze.

Darcy leaned into her, resting his weight upon his knuck-

les. His eyes dropped to her lips, then washed over her face
slowly, studying her under a fringe of dark lashes. A life-
time passed in that one short moment before he leaned in
further still, his lips catching hers. Elizabeth was suddenly
buﬀ eted with a wave of desire, and she grabbed his neck
for anchorage, pulling him closer still with the force of her
grasp. Pitched forward, Darcy grabbed her waist tightly in
one arm while steadying them both with the other. Th

shift caused her legs to be pinched between his hard thighs
and the harder desk. Without thought or care she slid her
legs free, and up and around his hips, instinctively pulling
him closer. Th

e added contact, the heated push and pull

and the remembrance of thigh high stockings below a patch
of deliciously creamy skin brought a moan of need deep
from within his throat.

He lowered her softly to the cool surface of the desk and

broke the contact of their lips. Elizabeth gasped softly at
the loss, and beneath kiss-drugged lids she watched Darcy
as he rose above her before running a large, ﬁ rm hand up
the thigh she still had wrapped wantonly around his hips. A
sense of power, spurred on by the utter look of lust etched
upon his own chiseled features, coursed hot through her

veins as his lips broke into a crooked half-smile of satisfac-

tion. She had indeed worn the stockings.

“Its coming oﬀ , Elizabeth,” his rich voice dropped to a

timbre that pulsed her nerve endings into a ﬁ t of frenzied
pleasure.

“Th

e stocking?” She teased, her own voice becoming a

raspy, deep tremble as her throat constricted with another
surge of desire.

His answer was a calculated shake of the head, his eyes

gleaming with wicked intent as his ﬁ ngers slid smoothly
beneath the band of her skirt, searching out the enclosure
hidden at her side. A ﬂ ick, a zip and his palms were push-
ing the ﬁ ne black fabric of her skirt down her hips, which
she lifted in aid. Darcy stepped back, running his hands
expertly down the length of her legs, the skirt’s fabric pulled
in their wake, inﬂ aming her senses as it brushed her skin.

With a ﬁ rm grip on her calves, he tossed the oﬀ ending bit

of clothing behind him, to be thought of no more. Again
his hands were on the move, sliding up now, running to
her knees, which he pulled around him as he resumed his
place between her thighs. Again, he found the lure of lace
at her upper thigh, and he ran his ﬁ ngers over the contrast
of rough lace and silky skin, trapped for a moment in the
sensation before his eyes and ﬁ ngers twitched higher yet to
another swatch of lace peeking out at her hip, just below
the hem of her shirt. Slowly, he passed a ﬁ nger over, then
under the edge of this new delicacy, moving from the hip
inward. Elizabeth gasped and trembled, her legs jerking
him closer in irrepressible desire as he brushed areas long
untouched. Darcy trailed his gaze up a row of buttons, sud-
denly annoyed by the fabric they belonged to. Seeing that

yet another button was threatening to pop against the new

straining of her chest, he grabbed the dual sides of fabric,
one in each hand.

“And this,” he growled as he pulled, sending small circles

of plastic into ﬂ ight. In that one action he had exposed all
of Victoria’s Secrets, and he found them very pleasing.

New lands were to be discovered north of the border.

Hills, valleys all fertile ground. He ran his hands, his lips

everywhere his eyes delighted, and would have lost himself
there had Elizabeth not brought him around with a ﬁ rm
tug at his curls.

“I have a little problem,” she breathed heavily as he pulled

up some.

“Th

at’s alright, darling. I’ll ﬁ x it,” he groaned as he

swooped in, burning her neck with kisses.

“No, really William. Th

ere’s something under me…here,”

she pushed him oﬀ and followed him up, raising herself to
sitting as she pulled a thin, silver dagger like object from
beneath her hip. She held it up for his inspection.

“Is this your letter opener, Mr. Darcy,” she drawled teas-

ingly.

“Not even close,” he growled as he took it from her hand

and with a sleek twitch of his wrist threw it at the wall
to his right, burying it deep within the wooden paneling
without ever taking his eyes from her. His hands now free,
he grabbed her hips and pulled her forward, grinding the
ﬁ rmness of his erection against her, giving her a taste of
what he was working with.

Having had enough teasing, Elizabeth grabbed him by

the belt and deftly undid it, pulled it free and sent it ﬂ ying.

A button, a zipper and soon there was little impediment

between Elizabeth’s hands and their own exploration. But
men being the wondrously tactile creatures they are, Darcy

was not one to endure the lengthy, arduous exploration of
his person that he was more than willing to bestow upon
her. In seconds he had chucked oﬀ his shoes, shucked his
pants, his shirt, his boxers and stood before her in the dif-

fused lighting of his oﬃ

ce lamps the perfect example of

good DNA and an upscale club membership. Elizabeth
ﬂ ushed at the sight of all of him.

Darcy was heated to boiling, and the time for niceties

had long passed. What was left of Elizabeth’s shirt joined
her skirt, with her bra soon following. With a renewed at-
tack of her lips, he leaned back upon the desk as his hands
pulled at the dainty stitching of her panties. Th

ey gave way

to his insistent force and soon were a thing of memory. But
the stockings, those remained unmolested as he rose above
her again and grasped her ﬁ rmly by the thighs once again
wrapped ﬁ rmly about his person. With one hand bracing
her at the hip, he guided himself powerfully into her in
slow, ﬁ rm strokes. Elizabeth’s head rolled back of its own

volition as he pulled and pushed into her, all the while
rubbing a ﬁ nger gently in counterpoint at the juncture of
her legs. Th

e opposing sensations of his forceful thrusting

and gentle stroking sent her mind wild and her arms ﬂ ung
out to her sides, seeking to hold her from tumbling oﬀ the
world. Sadly all they found was wooden desk and hard plas-
tic phone, knocking the latter oﬀ its hook and beeping use-
lessly at the odd button.

With an increased rhythm Darcy pushed on, and pushed

her on as well until neither could sustain the moment any
longer and both gave in to the mounting tension to fall
headlong into the white-hot release with the guttural moans
of pleasure. Spent and exhausted, he fell over her, resting
his damp curls upon her laboring chest. Softly she ran her
ﬁ ngers through them, tenderly watching them spring and
bounce under her touch.

“Th

ank you, Elizabeth,” he rumbled softly against her.

She smiled.

“Anytime, William,” she answered sincerely.
“Anytime?” he asked softly, raising his head to look at her,

a sudden boyish insecurity playing about his eyes.

“Yes,” was the simple answer, but it spoke volumes to the

man who had not long ago discovered that he wanted all
the time she had to give. He rested his newly ﬂ ushed cheek
back down upon her cool breast and breathed deeply—with
contentment.

So wrapped up was the couple that neither heard the

screeching coming from the unhooked receiver of his oﬃ

phone.

Caroline sat upon the ﬂ oor of her intensely decorated

London ﬂ at, eyes glued to the caller-id on her phone, the joy

of seeing his number killed by the whole of the last ten min-
utes playing through her mind like a horror ﬁ lm. Th

e moans,

the gasping, the words they had spoken to each other…the
names she had heard being said…William…Elizabeth.

e neighbors would be talking for weeks about the

strange wailing animal that had been heard that night, all
agreeing that they hoped something had put it out of its
misery.

Epilogue

avender and cabbage roses rested sweetly in the grip
of the four giggling girls in pale green dresses lined
up just inside the French doors leading out into

the glorious gardens of Pemberley in

Derbyshire—William Darcy’s ancestral home. On the

other side of those doors, rows of chairs were ﬁ lled with
loved ones and beyond them, one dapper gentleman and
another man of the cloth stood, all waiting patiently for
the emergence of a beautiful woman in white. Elizabeth
stepped into the parlor where her three younger sisters and
Charlotte nervously waited for their cue to begin. Beaming,
she nodded to them. “Its go time.”

One by one the girls stepped through the double doors,

each taking the arm of a young man smartly decked out in
a dress kilt and short jacket and proceeded in stately fashion
down the aisle. Elizabeth turned at a sound behind her and
sighed. On her father’s arm, Jane stood before her, radiant
in white. A moment passed in a shared look, the last one
before everything would change. Th

en Elizabeth turned

and stepped from the room and into the glorious sunshine,
a vision herself in pale green silk. Th

e beauty and elegance

of the tableau brought tears to her eyes as she felt a strong
arm take hers.

“Hello, gorgeous,” Darcy’s deep chocolate voice whispered

in her ear.

Elizabeth couldn’t keep the smile from her lips, but she

made damn sure to keep her eyes straight ahead. “I’m not
looking at you,” she whispered.

“And why is that?”
“Because you are wearing that kilt, and I’m sure that in

some etiquette book somewhere it is highly improper for
the maid of honor to jump the best man in the middle of
the aisle,” she teased quietly, smiling at the guests as she and

Darcy proceeded down the petal strewn path.

“Are you wearing the stockings?” he inquired lowly, nod-

ding politely to her mother as they passed the last row.

“Th

at’s for me to know and you to ﬁ nd out…later,” she

whispered back before pulling away from him to take her
position at the altar.

e small ensemble of strings and winds made a smooth

transition from their opening strains into the decided pro-
nouncement of the Wedding March. All eyes turned, and
each breath held as Mr. Th

omas Bennet proudly guided

his beautiful daughter Jane down the aisle to her waiting
groom. Elizabeth ventured a peek at Charles and found
him completely overcome with love for the woman walking
toward him. A small spark of jealousy skipped in her heart,
and for a moment she wished that she could inspire that
kind of look in a man until her eyes involuntarily shifted
right and her breath caught. For a brief shining moment,

while everyone else was captivated by Jane, William and
Elizabeth were alone in the world and she felt in that one
look more loved and desired than she could have ever imag-
ined.

e service was lovely, and there was not a dry eye in the

house as the bride and groom exchanged their vows. And
though Elizabeth and William took their duties very seri-
ously, there was much appraising of the other’s person going
on behind the backs of the main event. As Elizabeth moved
forward to take Jane’s bouquet for the exchanging of rings,

William caught a glimpse of lace at Elizabeth’s thigh when

her skirt shifted and as William presented Charles with the
rings, Elizabeth ﬁ nally gave him a good once over, admir-
ing the gorgeous cut of his legs beneath the hem of plaid.
Silently and separately, both calculated how soon they
could leave the reception without seeming rude.

Too soon it was all over, and Charles and Jane were

pronounced Mr. and Mrs. Bingley. All were whisked back
down the aisle and through one garden to another where the
reception had been set. Th

e guests marveled at the elaborate

beauty of the decorations as they sampled the champagne
and hors d’oeuvres while they mingled and congratulated
the happy couple. William and Elizabeth were swept apart
in the rush and bustle, and it wasn’t until after the service
of the main course, toasts, and obligatory dance with the
bride and groom that the two had a moment alone.

“Th

e boys are quite good tonight. I would have never

guessed it was them,” William remarked as he swept
Elizabeth up in his arms for their ﬁ rst dance of the eve-
ning.

“Yes, I’m as astonished as anyone,” she laughed as she

looked to the stage where a very preppy Matt, Mark, Luke
and John stood stiﬄ

y behind mics and instruments doing

their most solemn early Beatles impression.

“You know,” she began, running a ﬁ nger lazily through

the curls at the nape of his neck, “its seems you are not a
jinx after all.”

“Oh, and how is that exactly?” he smiled as he pulled her

nearer.

“Well, the Apostles got signed to a label that night at the

club, but I didn’t know it until last week,” she began.

“Is that right? Congratulations!”
“Oh, no. Congrats to them, not me. Th

ey signed on with

a big time manager as well, but were too scared to tell me,”
she laughed.

“And you are okay with this?” he asked, bristling at the

thought of Elizabeth being treated shabbily.

“Perfectly. It was a post-college fun thing. I never wanted

to go mainstream, and to be truthful I never thought I’d
last this long. But then again, I never thought they would
last this long. Funny thing, fame.”

“True enough,” he said, giving her a light squeeze. “And is

there any more redemptive proof for me?”

“Well, though the whole landing in Corfu thing was un-

expected, I can’t really blame you for the way things turned

out, can I?” she laughed sheepishly cutting a sidelong glance
at Caroline who sulked at a table full of aged relatives.

“We will just let that one slide, I think,” William smiled,

twirling her around in time to the music. “But there is the
matter of the shoes.”

“Yes, well, that,” Elizabeth colored at the thought of the

words she was about to say.

“Go on,” William prodded, enjoying the sight of her dis-

comfort.

“Jane said something interesting the day that happened,

and I…well, I refused to believe it until recently.”

“Oh? And what was that?” he asked. He already knew the

answer, as Jane and Charles had told him all about it some
months ago when he had sought their advice about his own
feelings regarding Elizabeth.

“She said that maybe my lucky shoes had broken because

I didn’t need them any more…because maybe you were…”

she stammered to an embarrassed stop.

“Maybe I was what?”
“Maybe you are the one,” she ﬁ nished softly.

William froze on the ﬂ oor and held her ﬁ rmly before

him. “Am I, Elizabeth?”

She took a deep steadying breath. Serious emotional dis-

cussions had never been her strong suit, but for once she felt
it was worth it to not make a joke of things.

“Yes,” she said simply.
“Th

at’s good,” he breathed out as he spun her back into ac-

tion amongst the other dancers. “Because I have something
for you.”

Jane nudged her new husband softly as they swayed upon

the dance ﬂ oor. “Look, Charles,” she said quietly, drawing
his attention to their maid of honor and best man in serious
discussion not ten feet away.

Charles smiled with his new bride as they saw William

hold a small golden circle in the palm of his hand. Jane held
her breath, because one never really knew what Elizabeth
would do in any given situation. Th

e newly married couple

held very still as they watched, both rooting silently for
their dear friend to get his way.

“Th

at looks suspiciously like a ring, William,” Elizabeth

tensed.

“It does go by that name in most English speaking coun-

tries,” he conﬁ rmed, suddenly very nervous.

“I don’t want to read too much into this, but most girls

would assume that the presence of a ring implies an oﬀ er,”
Elizabeth continued, her heart practically beating its way
past her ribcage.

“Well then, for clariﬁ cation’s sake, an oﬀ er is deﬁ nitely

implied.”

“And by oﬀ er you would not actually be meaning a ride

in your Bentley where we would be going to say…Brighton
and end up in Rome would you?” she teased, trying to stop
her hands from shaking.

“You are killing me, woman,” he growled.

“Th

en if that means you want to marry me, my answer is

yes,” she answered quietly, once again very serious.

“It means I love you more than life, and I want to marry

you,” he smiled, slipping the band on her ﬁ nger.

Jane and Charles breathed out a twin sigh of relief as the

distant couple sealed the deal with a kiss. Turning her head
to the band, Jane caught Luke’s eye and gave him a decided
nod.

“Ladies and gentlemen, this next song is in honor of a dear

friend whom we all love and adore…some more than oth-
ers,” he said with a wink at William. “For Lizzy.”

Turning to his band mates, he counted out the down-

beat and a riot of sound erupted from the stage like the

Manhattan Project.

“Th

is is a little ditty we borrowed from a guy named Joey,”

Luke snarled in his gloriously bad accent before he began
jumping up and down with the rhythm.

Elizabeth threw her hands up in the international sym-

bol for “Rock On” as “Beat on the Brat” pounded over the
gathering like hail on a summer’s day. It was not long before

Jane and Charlotte where jumping at her side, propriety

and frilly dresses be damned.

“What have we gotten ourselves into,” Charles yelled in

William’s ear as he came to stand next to his old friend.

“Not sure really, but it promises to be one hell of a ride,”

he replied as they watched the women fully immerse them-
selves in the joy of really bad rock.

A beautiful wedding, a happy sister, one hot guy asking

her to be his forever, and a tribute to the Ramones—for
Elizabeth the day was almost perfection.

As the party wound down, and the newlyweds became

anxious to do what all newlyweds pretend they haven’t al-
ready done, the men and women separated and the tradi-
tional tossing of the bouquet took place. Elizabeth came
just short of giving some biddy named Anne a black eye
in her quest for the coveted prize, but she was hell-bent on
winning. She needed all the good luck she could get, after
all.

e gentlemen were not to be outdone, as Charles stood

before them in the garden twirling a lacy garter around his

ﬁ nger. Eyeing up the competition, jackets were removed and

sleeves rolled up in anticipation. William, not one for im-
proper and embarrassing displays, put himself at the back of
the group, sure that the dainty bit would never reach him.

But Charles had other plans. Pulling the garter’s elastic

like a slingshot, he aimed right at William who saw not only
the puﬀ of lace but several large men headed his way just
seconds too late. Reaching up, he caught the garter but was
not quick enough to dodge the oncoming horde. Stumbling
backward uncontrollably, William soon found himself sub-
merged in the Koi pond. He rose, dripping, his white shirt
clinging in a sheer sheet upon his chest, he raised his hand
and showed the evidence that his dunking wasn’t in vain, at
least. He chuckled to himself and smiled as a cheer went up
amongst the assembly.

Jane and Charles waved and hugged and kissed their way

through the crowd, were pelted with birdseed and sent lov-
ingly on their way. Slowly the guests began to leave and
the caterers and attendants cleared away the remnants of
the day. As the last car pulled away, Elizabeth turned to

William who stood uncomfortably damp in his shirt and

kilt.

“Th

at’s coming oﬀ , William,” she whispered in his ear,

running a hand over his chest.

“Th

e kilt?” he asked with a saucy raise of the brow.

She shook her head and smiled wickedly.

“I hope the Master of the house has a desk in his bedroom,”

she purred, grabbing his hand and leading him inside.

“I have a perfectly good bed, woman,” he responded.
“Okay, that can be second.”

Slipping oﬀ her shoes, and lifting her skirt she bolted

up the wide staircase of his ancient stone home, and plum-
meted down the hall to his room right under the oil-painted
noses of his many ancestors. Without a thought, he came
chasing after.

And with that, she found perfection.