Section I, Next Section

Posted on Friday, 27 October 2000

It wasn't a car. It was a work of art. The tiny, sleek Jaguar roadster sat in the parking space like the Hope diamond. The fluorescent lights above caught and bounced at every angle. It gleamed like a gem to firelight. The platinum paint job was smooth, flawless.

But, while the car was a beauty to behold, it did not change the fact that it was parked in William Darcy's spot. What good was running an empire if it could not guarantee him a parking spot in his own company garage? He grumbled to himself while he trucked along searching for a space that could accommodate his massive, custom Land Rover. Glancing at the dashboard clock he saw that it was 8:27am.

He was officially very late for his meeting.

At 8:39, his car sat cockeyed in two spots that were at least five minutes from the lift. Ten minutes after that, William burst into the reception area of his office. His secretary, Laurelen, gave him a mock-stern look.

"Good morning, sir," she said as she stood. She approached him with her eyes narrowed. Reaching out, Laurelen straightened his tie. "Honestly, you'd think Clara never looked at you before you left the house."

William pursed his lips and raised an eyebrow. "If she knew you were my secretary, she might not let me come to work."

Laurelen, a tall, leggy blonde who should've been making movies instead of being an executive assistant, pushed a grey ceramic mug into William's hand. "Hmmmm, pity then. Perhaps I should call her. I could get so much more done around here if you never showed up."

He took a sip of his coffee as Laurelen informed him that Georgie had canceled their lunch date, but Richard had called him to ask him for lunch.

"So what am I doing for lunch?"

"Richard at the Hedgehog."

William groaned. "I hate that place."

"I know. That's why I suggested it," Laurelen grinned.

He narrowed his eyes. "You know, one of these days I'm going to fire you."

"Promises, promises. Now, get in your office. Your eight o'clock has been waiting since 7:50."

Glancing at the clock behind Laurelen's desk, William cursed himself. An hour. He was an hour late for his meeting. What an impression to make on that poor girl! He let himself into his office, apologizing as he entered. He rushed to his desk to set down his coffee and briefcase.

"Please, forgive me, Miss...ah, Bennet. Had a bit of trouble in the garage this morning."

"You realize my time is very valuable?"

"Again, Miss Bennet-" Will stopped himself as he looked at her for the first time. He wasn't sure what he'd been expecting but the woman who sat before him was absolutely not what he'd had in mind. He noticed her legs first. They were long and shapely. She had them crossed elegantly, sitting in the chair as if it were a throne. She was svelte in her light blue suit. Her hair was a most unusual shade of auburn, not seeming to settle on one color. Her eyes were the color of dark chocolate and they stared at him impatiently.

"Mr. Darcy? Are you listening to me?"

"Oh, yes. I'm sorry. It's just that, you know, when one thing goes wrong everything else seems to follow. I think I'm having a day like that." He gave her a grin that should have been charming, but her face didn't soften, her body didn't relax. She almost looked like a cardboard cutout.

"Can we talk business now?"

"Right," William, seeing that he would not be allowed an inch, decided against any further pleasantries. If she was going to be unfriendly there was nothing he could do about it. "Let's get down to business."

"Finally."

William ignored the comment. "Let me introduce myself properly. I'm William Darcy. My friends, however, call me Will."

He'd tried one more time to extend the olive branch. It was her turn now.

No deal. "Elizabeth Bennet. You may call me Miss Bennet."

William nodded. For all her beauty, she had a very ugly demeanor. He switched gears into "business mode" and sat down at his desk. She leaned back in her chair. He noticed that she did so elegantly.

"Miss Bennet, I am looking for a designer who can take on a massive job that may last months. As you know, there is a manor house in Derbyshire that has been in my family for generations.

"My sister and I have never lived at Pemberley but we would eventually like to put it to use. Many of the rooms have fallen into disrepair. We want to keep everything as original as possible while updating here and there."

"Is there anybody there now? Is it inhabitable?"

"We employ a caretaker."

She nodded slowly as if considering something. "It won't be as much of a challenge as Ballycraighead, but I suppose it would be an interesting job."

William sat back in his chair, aghast by her snobbery. She was smug and confident. He nearly ordered her out of his office.

"If you don't want the job, Miss Bennet, I have heard that Madeleine Avery has expressed and interest."

"That bloody hack! I have more taste in my finger than that Princess Diana plate hanging troll has in her whole body."

William remained silent, not convinced.

Elizabeth stood, bending forward on his desk. "I am not the most likable person you will ever meet. But I am the best. I have the qualifications and the talent. I will make Pemberley so grand the Queen herself will envy you. If you want second-rate by all means hire Madeleine Avery. You will have more plastic flowers that smell real than you know what to do with."

"You make a good case for yourself, Miss Bennet."

"And?"

Slowly, he took another sip of his coffee. She was the best interior designer in all of England. She had turned Charles' droll flat into a palace. He wouldn't have to endure her for more than a week after all. She would work at Pemberley. He would be in London.

"Miss Bennet, I believe you have yourself a job."

Chapter 2

Elizabeth slipped into the comforting leather seat of her vintage platinum Jaguar convertible roadster. It had been her father's car and sometimes she thought she could still catch a trace of him in it. She turned the key in the ignition as she read the sign posted before her on the wall.

'This space reserved for William Darcy, CEO.'

She was the reason she had been so completely rude this morning! Elizabeth could've kicked herself. She'd never been good at holding her tongue and, obviously, this morning's meeting with William Darcy had been no exception. There had been that moment when she knew she was in danger of losing the job that could make her a force to be reckoned with in the field.

Fortunately, Elizabeth Bennet thought quickly on her feet. She'd won the job back from Maddy before Maddy even knew it was available to steal. Because Madeleine Avery was a hack. Because someplace with a history like Pemberley should belong to Elizabeth. In her heart of hearts, Elizabeth knew she was destined to bring Pemberley, the grandest estate in Derbyshire, back to life.

She, however, knew that she'd have to make amends with Pemberley's master. She'd never been good at being social with anybody but her sisters and parents. Even then, sometimes, that was difficult. Some of her more distant relations even found her aloof and condescending. She just preferred inanimate objects of beauty to making attempts at being social. Though she was loathe to admit it, she was painfully shy.

Strangers brought out the worst in her. She tried to stay quiet when she was among people she didn't know. If she could, in most situations, Elizabeth would just observe, doing her best in shrinking into the wallpaper. The only time she truly came alive was when she was asked about her passions: architecture, antiques, design. When broached about preferring Gothic over Georgian, Elizabeth flared to life. She lived for the numbers and angles and fabrics and sixteenth century bric-a-brac.

She'd been so nervous about meeting the famous William Darcy that she'd barely slept the night before. She had seen photos of him in Lydia's magazines, but the photos did not come remotely close to the real thing.

Dark curls, dark eyes, confident stride. Will Darcy coulda, woulda, shoulda been a movie star. He'd had an easy grace and a light in his eyes that seemed to know everything she was thinking. He took her by surprise and threw her off her game.

It was not what she expected of a man worth millions, possibly billions, of pounds. She'd expected a shark and got a guy.

So shocked by him that she'd almost thrown the most sought-after job she'd ever been offered. Pemberley was a job that every interior designer in England wanted as soon as the rumour mill started. It was one of the grand old houses of England, built in the middle of the seventeenth century by Liam Darcy. Gossip about the renovation of the manor had begun when talk of Will Darcy marrying his longtime girlfriend, Clara Ludlow, arose. Decorators were chomping at the bit to get to Darcy. Any designer who tackled Pemberley and got the Darcy seal of approval would have buckets of money thrown at them if they even thought of offering to redo a home.

And Elizabeth had one weapon in her arsenal that many other designers did not. Before she'd gotten her design accreditation, Elizabeth had studied and received a degree, with highest honors, in architecture. She didn't just know about molding and marble. She knew how to build them into the work. On a project like Pemberley the degree was her most valuable asset.

So she got the job. Elizabeth returned to her office, grinning from ear to ear. She sat down at her desk to continue working from the blueprints of Pemberley that she already had.

Chapter 3

"A bloody ice queen! I couldn't have been closer to freezing to death if I had camped out naked at the North Pole!" Will exclaimed as he pierced a sprig of asparagus. "I wonder if Charles found her as abrasive."

"Not likely," Richard replied. "He thinks Jack the bloody Ripper destroyed tags on mattresses. Not that the old boy is dim mind you. Just...optimistic."

"Too say the least." Will choked as he laughed. He was glad he'd not stood Richard up because he'd chosen to eat at this dreary hovel. Richard could always make him laugh.

The Hanging Hedgehog was one of London's many ancient pubs. Richard had discovered it sometime during college after leaving the flat of a particularly amorous encounter with a girl he'd just met. To this day, Richard couldn't remember the girl's name, but he never forgot the wonderful fried fish that the Hedgehog served. Of course, many of Richard's friends refused to be seen in such a place, but Will couldn't refuse; he was family.

"Why did George desert you today?" Richard asked, taking a swallow of Guinness. Will gave him a look of disgust.

"Really, a man of your wealth and position. You think you could drink something more sensible."

Richard ignored him. "Where's George?"

"She told Laurelen that she and Jeremy had to meet with a florist. She's running around like she's insane. I may be forced to commit her."

"That wouldn't prevent the wedding. In fact, I think your dear sister would marry anybody to get away from you," Richard said, grinning.

"Not funny, Richard."

The cousin looked at his plate as he chuckled. Will was overly sensitive about his sister. When the wedding finally did happen, it was likely to kill William Darcy to have to part with his beloved Georgiana. He'd fought to give her the kind of home he thought his parents would have given her. A home filled with love and laughter and happiness.

Georgiana Darcy had grown up into a beautiful young woman. She was poised on the verge of a brilliant career as a photographer and she was engaged to the boy she'd been dating since she was sixteen. George and Jeremy were as much in love as any two people could be and you could feel the devotion, the connection they had just by standing near them. Will wouldn't have given her up for anybody less.

"I'm sorry, Will. I know you're happy for her."

"I am."

"Will Pemberley be done by the wedding?"

"Most of it will be. I was thinking of suggesting that Georgie get married at Pemberley. What do you think she'd say?"

"Let's see, if I were a girl in my early twenties who had an older brother offer the family's obscenely fabulous ancestral home as the sight of my blessed nuptials I think I would say 'I dig it.'"

Will looked at him archly. "Thank God you aren't a twenty year old girl."

"I'll drink to that!" Richard said, raising his glass. "How's Clara?"

"Busy. She's working on a new book. Something about Viking history and the discovery of the New World."

"Sounds droll. I assume that you she hasn't ventured into the light of day for weeks?"

"She's fine, Richard. We're fine. We understand each other. This isn't supposed to be serious."

"Sounds charming."

"You should talk, Henry Higgins."

At that Richard slammed his fork down and pushed his nearly empty plate away. "I don't know what to be more appalled by, Will. The fact that you called me a character out of "My Fair Lady" or that I know it was a character from "My Fair Lady."

Will shook his head, laughing again. His bad day now seemed so much better.

"Lizzy, didn't you have that meeting with William Darcy today?" Lydia asked as Elizabeth shrugged out of her jacket. She'd changed from the ice blue suit of this morning to a tee-shirt, jeans, and tennis shoes; her usual attire.

She eyed Lydia suspiciously. "How did you know that?"

Lydia bit her lips, suddenly realizing that she was trapped. She cursed herself momentarily for not choosing to live with Jane. The truth was likely to get her a lecture and no phone privileges, but no good lie would come to her. Lizzy had no secretary, just an office answerphone and she never changed the message to indicate where she was. That was why she carried a cell phone.

"Uh, I may have sneaked a very small peek at your engagement book."

"Lyddy!" Elizabeth closed her eyes, grumbling. "What am I to do with you?"

"It isn't like I stole a nuclear secret. Besides, I knew something was odd when you looked so nice this morning," Lydia pushed her little bow of a mouth into a pout while trying to look sincere with the compliment she'd paid to her elder sister.

"You're impossible."

The younger Bennet smiled as she saw Elizabeth relax and the familiar twinkle spark her eyes to life. She cursed herself for her earlier curse. She'd chosen wisely and, while Elizabeth was often frustrated by her, she knew it was only out of love. She was aware just how special her elder sisters were for taking on their younger sisters when they were still so young themselves. Jane had just started teaching when Thom and Franny Bennet were lost in a plane crash. Elizabeth had still had a year to go on her studies.

There had never been any question, however. The Bennet girls would not be split up. They all lived nicely from their parents' estate, although they by no means rivaled the Queen or Richard Branson. But they did well enough for all the girls to go on to college. Kate, who lived with Jane, and Lydia weren't in college yet, but Mary, who lived with Aunt Maeve, was studying something that only Mary would study.

"Was he handsome?" Lydia asked, following Elizabeth into the kitchen. She pulled down teacups from the cupboard while Elizabeth put on the water.

"Devastatingly," was Elizabeth's miserable reply.

"What happened? You don't sound happy." She nibbled at a tea biscuit as she awaited Elizabeth's reply.

"I'm afraid Madame Impervious reared her ugly head again."

A deep groan floated up from Lydia's throat. "Oh, Lizzy. You didn't."

"I did."

Lydia had nicknamed Elizabeth's demanding and snobbish defense mechanism years ago when she'd learned the word during a vocabulary test. The entire family, impressed with her, adopted the name on a permanent basis.

"Did William Darcy throw you our on your ear like he should have?"

"No. Incredibly, I got the job."

For a moment, Lydia sat there. She'd heard Lizzy talk about Pemberley incessantly since the rumours began. She knew how much the Darcy job meant, what it meant.

"This is grand!" Lydia threw her arms around her sister.

Elizabeth extracted her body from her younger sister's grasp. Her face was calm, a cool smile spread over her lips.

"I think Madame Impervious got the job, not Elizabeth Bennet."

Lydia playfully punched Elizabeth's arm. "Rubbish. You got the job because your Elizabeth Bennet of Bennet Building and Design and you're fabulous. Now, you're going to let me have a holiday from classes to come see this house, aren't you?"

"I wouldn't count the chickens just yet, Lyddy," Elizabeth replied. "Mr. Darcy has yet to see any of my ideas for Pemberley."

The younger girl looked smug. "What day would be best for me to take off classes?"

Chapter 4

The next meeting that Will Darcy scheduled with Elizabeth Bennet took place in the afternoon. He wasn't taking anymore chances. He ate lunch in his office that day and prayed that she just wasn't a morning person. He wanted to believe that somebody that gorgeous, that elegant had a soul. More than anything he wanted to believe that she was capable of being civil. It would be so much easier if she were.

He stood in the door frame of the conference room just off his office. She was already there, arranging numerous blueprints and sketches and looking incredible in a dark grey a-line dress with a scoop neck. She wore a simple stand of pearls at her neck. Her chameleon like hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail that hung at the nape of her slim neck. Again, he noticed her legs. The thought occurred that a man wouldn't be truly alive unless he noticed Miss Elizabeth Bennet's legs.

She looked up, catching him staring. He didn't even bother to blush or look away sheepishly. He just strolled into the room like a king entering his court. And she was a loyal subject. Elizabeth quickly looked back down to the table.

"I was early," she said. Her voice hung in the air coolly like a crisp autumn night. "I thought I'd go ahead and set up."

"Thank you." He was casually graceful, as though it took no effort for him to move. He just merely swept along.

Elizabeth rose from her seat as he chose the leather covered chair next to hers. She did it unconsciously. She reached over to pick up the sketch she wanted to show him.

"Miss Bennet, I don't bite," he said when she stood.

She pushed the drawing in his direction. He was he punishment. Punishment for all those family gatherings that she'd spoiled by her refusal to talk, for not participating in class discussions thereby alienating her classmates, for all the dates that Jane had sent her way that went badly. William Darcy was put on earth simply to punish Elizabeth for being herself. She swallowed hard while she stared at the shoes she borrowed from Lydia.

By force she would learn about his tastes, his moods, his humor. She had to remember quirks and oddities. Indeed, by the time this would be over, Elizabeth was afraid she would know Will Darcy better than she would've liked. Designer's Rule Number One: Know your client and you know your house. If she were going to return Pemberley to its former splendor, she would have to know Will Darcy. For a moment, Elizabeth wondered if even the prestige and recognition that Pemberley would bring her was worth the trials and tribulations of its master.

"I would not presume to think that you do, sir," she replied. Her voice was surprisingly even since her throat suddenly felt like it had been stuffed with cotton. She slowly moved to a water pitcher and the clear liquid sloshed into the glass, splashing her a little. "D__n!"

"Miss Bennet, let me get you a towel."

"I'll be fine. It's only water," she muttered. She caught him looking at her, bemused.

"This is funny, is it?" She demanded. Her tone bordered somewhere between anger and embarrassment.

"I'm not laughing."

Elizabeth shook her head. Let him laugh. Who was he anyway? Just a client.

William stood then retrieved a towel for her from the bar. Carefully, he handed it to her. She looked down.

"It's my younger sister's dress," she said softly. "She saved her allowance for a month to buy it."

"I understand. I have a younger sister too, but I don't wear her clothes."

She glanced at him, saw the twinkle in his eyes. Elizabeth couldn't help but give him a shy smile while she blotted the water from her borrowed dress.

"You know, sir, you really are an incorrigible flirt."

William looked about himself as though somebody had just pointed out that his Brooks Brothers suit was on backward and inside out. The wonder in his brown eyes looked as real as the massive cherrywood table they stood beside.

"So I am! I am an incorrigible flirt. To think all this time and I never knew."

She rolled her eyes. Her eyebrow traveled up into a perfect arch almost reflexively. She turned back to the table. "I don't suppose we could get down to business. Pemberley is big and there is a lot of work to be done."

He moved up next to her, his gaze suddenly serious and concentrated. William surveyed the mass of paper on the table before him, not quite sure what to make of it all.

"It is all preliminary, sir. Obviously nothing is set in stone."

"Stop calling me that," he told her, pulling a drawing of the library toward him. He studied it for a moment. It was finely detailed, down to the very last leaf on a potted lemon tree. The single window in the library had been expanded almost double its original size. With that one simple step, the whole room was transformed from the stuffy library he remembered as a child going to Pemberley on daytrips with his father to a lighter, more airy and inviting room. She had removed the dark oak coloring and replaced it with a blonder version of the wood. The room was magnificent.

"The library?" She asked, peering over his arm. "I also toyed with the blueprint so I can show you where the climate control and security systems are going to be. I hear that some of the Pemberley collection is quite priceless."

He stared at her, amazed. "When did you get to Pemberley?"

She was confused and it played over her round face. "I've not been to Pemberley, sir."

"Stop calling me that. How did you capture it so wholly if you've never been?"

Elizabeth shrugged her shoulders slightly, almost imperceptibly. She had studied Pemberley for years. She knew every nook and cranny of the place, every room. She could tell you every detail of the place, but she had never actually managed to get there. Pemberley was like a dream to her. Something that didn't seem quite real, but thrived in the recesses of her mind. Pemberley had always been in Elizabeth's heart.

"I've always been a fan of the house," she simply replied.

"You've never been? Unbelievable!"

Her cheeks flushed a dark shade of scarlet. Shy and unassuming, Elizabeth had always blushed easily. It was something she hated.

"What are you doing the rest of the day?" He asked suddenly.

Her brow crinkled when she looked at him. "I was just going to go back to my office and continue working on the sketches you liked most. Maybe pick up some swatches of material. Why?"

"We're going to Derbyshire."

With her arms crossed over her chest, Elizabeth just stared at him. "You aren't serious."

"Very. Miss Bennet, you have an incredible eye. I want you to see Pemberley now. I can clear my schedule. I own the company, after all," he grinned. "Please, Miss Bennet. Come see Pemberley."

Dizzy, Elizabeth slipped into the closest chair. She could see Pemberley. His house. Her house, the one she'd dreamt of all her life. The house that had made her become an architect. It was her inspiration. How could she say no?

"Yes, sir."

"Stop calling me that," he said again.

Elizabeth called Lydia as William went to clear his appointments with Laurelen.

She raised an eyebrow. "You and a pretty brunette that put you in your place alone at your decrepit country manor house. I'll make a note, sir."

"Someday-"

"It won't be soon enough, sir, I assure you," Laurelen replied dryly. "And what if Clara calls?"

"Tell her where I am."

"Sometimes you make being bad no fun."

William gave her a winning smile and returned to the conference room. Elizabeth had finished gathering her sketches and blueprints. She carefully placed them in a large leather portfolio. They walked to the lift that took them to the parking garage.

"What level are you on? I'm afraid I rode in the limo this morning and the driver won't be back until I call. I'll pay for petrol."

Her stomach lurched. It was inevitable that he would find out what type of vehicle she drove but she had wanted it to be much later in the job. When she was entrenched.

"Well, I- level four."

He punched the number. When the doors opened he followed her toward the same beautiful Jaguar convertible that he'd seen the day he met her. She opened the trunk, deposited the portfolio then stood at the driver's side door. He remained a few feet away from the passenger's side.

"It was me," she said plainly.

William only nodded. He didn't move.

"If it makes you feel any better I didn't see your name on the spot until I left."

He gave her a funny little smirk. "Then I guess I need a bigger sign."

Chapter 5

Richard let himself into the Darcy townhouse with the familiar ease of one who had spent enough hours there to have laid claim to the most comfortable guest bedroom. Enough hours that the most comfortable guest bedroom had simply become "Richard's bedroom." He had long since had his own key, given to his as a birthday present from Will and Georgie, using it to come and go as he wished. And he had. Until recently.

His own home, a "bloody drafty old thing," was forty-five minutes outside London. He had inherited it from his paternal grandmother upon her death. "Why buy a bloody drafty old thing when I can get one for free?" He reasoned. But he didn't care for the place and spent many evenings with his cousins. The truth was Richard was home when he was at Will and Georgie's place.

At least, it had been home until Miss Personality, and he used that term loosely, arrived. Richard had known Clara Ludlow for years, having met her during a project they were assigned to at University. And William, despite Richard's staunch objections, had pursued the attractive if somewhat unkempt looking Clara. And they had been an item ever since, though it was only recently that she had taken up residence in the luscious abode.

The moment she'd finished unpacking, Clara had disappeared from view to write her new book. It occurred to Richard that if Clara applied herself and wrote scandalous romance novels that he might like her more, but as it was she didn't and, therefore, he didn't. He suspected that there was something more than William caring for her that forced Clara to finally accept his offer to live with him. Clara Ludlow was highborn, but her father, a man who was old and thought old, did not give much consequence to his daughter. Thereby making Clara poor.

And she was an academic who wrote academic books that only academics read. It was common knowledge that the pursuit of knowledge quite often failed to also pursue money. That's why, Richard thought, intellectuals wore so much tweed. They couldn't afford much else.

Richard tossed his light jacket, which wasn't tweed but a fine navy blue silk, on one of the chairs that sat in the foyer. It would bring upon him the wrath of the Almighty herself, Mrs. Reynolds, but Richard didn't care. He lived for rows with the old girl.

"Georgiana Darcy-soon-to-be-Blake! Where are you?" Richard called, adding fuel to the fire. Mrs. Reynolds hated hearing people yell in the house. Or anywhere for that matter. Except when Richard was present, Mrs. Reynolds rarely raised her voice above a commanding conversational level.

A few moments later, Georgiana Darcy-soon-to-be-Blake appeared in the doorway of the study. Her lithe form belied the years she'd spent studying ballet. She always reminded Richard of a goddess stepping down from on high. Whether she had just come from a ten kilometer run or an evening at the opera, she was always beautiful with her blonde hair and saucer-huge grey-blue eyes.

"Mrs. Reynolds will have your hide, cousin," Georgie smiled as she hugged him. "Let me sneak you into the game room. Perhaps we can get you in under the radar."

They turned to make their retreat when they heard: "Master Richard, I suggest that, before you run off with Miss Georgiana, you hang up your jacket and quit yelling loud enough to raise the dead in Scotland."

"Evening, Mrs. R." Richard gave her a grin as she bestowed him with a scolding look. But the light in her eyes revealed that she held as true an affection for him as she did for his cousins.

"Master Richard, have you eaten? Would you like some supper? Miss Georgiana and Master Jeremy have already eaten."

Richard politely asked if there was any soup as he retrieved his jacket to put it in the hall closet. He followed Georgie as Mrs. Reynolds went to heat it for him.

Jeremy Blake, a young man who could've been a smaller version of William with green eyes, stood agonizing over the billiard table. The poor chap didn't have a single shot save for a perfect beeline in a corner pocket. Of course, it was the eight ball, which would have cost him the game.

"I've beat him at fussball tonight," Georgie said, grinning wickedly. "I keep distracting him."

"I don't even want to pretend how you are going about doing that," Richard replied. "Where's Will?"

Georgie shrugged. " I haven't seen him. Laurelen apparently called about him going to Pemberley with that decorator he hired. I expected him back for supper, but you can see he isn't here."

"Maybe he's avoiding Miss Personality," Richard suggested.

Jeremy chuckled then backed away as Georgie went to elbow him in the ribs. He expertly moved to the table, sunk the eight ball, letting Georgie have the game. She glared at him.

"Richard's here now. He's infinitely more interesting to talk to than you are."

Richard laughed as Georgiana feigned anger and disbelief. Jeremy strolled over to the leather couch opposite the identical one Richard sat on. He patted the seat beside him, chuckling again. Georgie snorted in disgust and chose to sit next to Richard.

"Well, you've been doing a good job of that yourself, Richard," Jeremy said. "We very rarely see her, though."

The cousin sighed. It wasn't as if he really hated Clara. There was just something about her that he didn't like. Something about her and William that didn't sit well with him in the least.

"I know, but I would rather avoid even rarely."

A pout played over Georgie's perfect lips. "I think you should try harder, Richard. Will misses you dreadfully. I miss you dreadfully. And Mrs. Reynolds, well, she's very happy that you aren't around."

"I heard that, Miss Georgiana," the housekeeper said, bringing in Richard's soup on a tray. "And that is quite false."

"I know, Mrs. R." Georgie giggled.

Mrs. Reynolds disappeared again and Richard ate his soup and bread. They passed the evening with idle chats about soccer, of which they were all rabid fans, and wedding plans. It was nearly eight o'clock when they heard the front door open. A few moments later, William appeared. He was covered in mud from head to toe and his suit hung in tatters around his body.

"Let me tell you about my day," he said as his family burst into laughter.

Chapter 6, Part 1

Once on the open road, away from the congestion of London's crowded streets, Elizabeth Bennet drove the platinum Jaguar convertible like it was meant to be driven. Hard and fast. The top was down and the early spring sun rode beside them, keeping pace with them.

She'd stopped by her office before heading out of the City. There was no way that she was going to Pemberley dressed like a princess. She would see the house the way she would work on the house. Her Cambridge sweatshirt was old and faded, but she'd had it since her first year of school, as were her jeans. Her gym shoes were a thousand times more comfortable and practical than the heels she'd worn.

William watched her as she expertly moved the speeding machine around sharp curves and over the hills. The car obeyed every slight movement of the hands upon its steering wheel. It was obvious that she loved the care and knew its every nuance. Elizabeth and the Jaguar looked like a matched set. Even dressed plainly, she was elegant and graceful. Her hair, a loose mass of shimmering fire-tinted curls, flew back as the wind rushed them both.

He felt overdressed now that she had changed into more comfortable clothes. He had not known that she was going to change or he would have followed suit. Instead he was trapped in his Saville Row purchase, envying the carefree spirit beside him.

"Where did you get this beautiful car?" William asked.

Even though the sun was bouncing off of her rosy cheeks, there was no mistaking the shadow that suddenly played over her features. He was beginning to regret asking when she replied: "Addie belonged to my father."

He nodded, unwilling to pursue the subject any further. She was hard to talk to, hard to read. There wasn't any way for him to gauge how she might react to something because he didn't know her. And she didn't seem to want him to try. But, an outgoing person by nature, he couldn't stay quiet.

"It handles well," he replied softly.

"Like a dream. Did you see how she cornered in the City?" She seemed to light up as she spoke about the car.

"You called it Addie," he ventured.

Elizabeth cast a glance at him, a small, sheepish smile spread over her lips. "Yes, I did. And don't let her hear you call her an 'it.' Addie is very sensitive."

William chuckled and his brow wrinkled. Elizabeth's stomach lurched at the charming confusion that showed on his features.

"Papa called her Addie from the moment he met her. He used to tease Mama that Addie was his one true love. Of course, Mama played along, but the she bought Adam. Adam is Mama's Astin Martin that she bought in retaliation."

He laughed. "Your family must love their cars a great deal. What does your father drive now?"

Her eyes returned to the road and he saw her swallow. He'd said something wrong. Again.

"My parents died a few years back. Papa left Addie to me and Mama left Adam to my sister, Jane."

"I'm sorry," he said, softly.

"It's fine, sir. You couldn't have known."

He let the 'sir' slide this time. It wouldn't be good to reprimand her after broaching a painful subject. He didn't need years of boarding school to tell him that.

Suddenly, Elizabeth began to brake. The car slipped to the shoulder of the road and she gently guided the gearshift into 'park.' Her head turned toward him so that he couldn't see her eyes behind her sunglasses. There was a crooked grin on her face.

"Do you want to drive her?" She asked. Somewhere in the back of her mind Madame Impervious was clucking her tongue in dismay, but Elizabeth couldn't help herself. She couldn't concentrate one more moment on driving if she had to continue inhaling his scent. She could no longer deny that she had an attraction to this man.

"Are you serious?" William asked her. "Of course, I want to drive her."

Madame Impervious had been praying that William would say no while Elizabeth silently longed to hear him say yes. If he drove the car perhaps she could get off the hook for her faux pas from the other morning. That and she wanted to see him drive. She wanted to see the man in the finely tailored suit drive an automobile that suited him.

She didn't doubt that he had exquisite cars of his own. In her experience, wealthy men usually had amazing collections of incredible cars. The men who had hired her for the talents of Bennet Building and Design had always been impressed when they saw what she drove. She'd been in some of the finest garages in England, Scotland, and Wales. The master of Pike Park had had a 1932 Dusenberg stored away while Mr. Graham's London townhouse garage hid away a custom built cherry red Alfa Romeo.

They traded places and William felt the warmth her body left behind through his suit. The seat seemed perfectly matched to her lithe form. He adjusted the seat minutely then turned the key. Addie's engine purred to life. The slight vibration that the car gave off shuddered through his body. In his eagerness, William slammed the car into first gear a bit harder than he meant to. She jerked her unhappy reaction.

"Relax. She knows," Elizabeth smiled. "I learned to drive in this car. She was very kind and tolerant then."

William, who normally would have thought somebody who kept referring to her car as a female as crazy, found Elizabeth's habit charming. He made another attempt, grinning like a loon, as the car rewarded him with first gear. The Jaguar sped to life down the open country road.

Turning slightly in her seat, Elizabeth examined him while he enjoyed the sensation of driving Addie. Sunglasses covered his dark eyes, but she could see behind one lens. His brown curls were toussled by the wind. He had taken off his jacket and tie, exposing his neck. A neck that Elizabeth found herself wanting to nuzzle.

"Miss Bennet? Did you hear me?"

She shook the lusty thought from her head, hoping that it didn't spill into an embarrassed blush on her pale cheeks.

"I'm sorry, sir. What did you say?"

William gave her a sidelong glance. "Stop calling me that. I asked if you enjoyed working with Charles Bingley."

"He was very pleasant. There wasn't a suggestion I made that he didn't agree with. Of course, sometimes that in itself can be frustrating."

He laughed. "How was Charles frustrating?"

"I'm sorry, sir. I suppose we shouldn't talk about this. He's your friend."

"Stop calling me that," he repeated. "Let me guess then."

A skeptical look played over her porcelain features.

"Charles can't make a decision to save his life. Which plays h__l with an interior designer's ambition, I'm sure."

She bit her lip to suppress a laugh and tried with all her might not to confirm his suspicion.

"Ah, so I am right." William smiled. He pulled the car into a parking spot in front of a pub. "Come on. I'll buy."

Inside the pub, the air smelled of polished wood and hops. There was a small fire in a fireplace that seemed big enough to house a small family, but the fire gave the room a cozy, intimate feel. The walls had once been a creamy plaster, but was now covered with soot and smoke. The bar curved around the right side of the room and few tables dusted the smooth wooden floor.

Elizabeth and William took the table nearest the large bay window that looked onto the small hamlet's main street. He noticed that she took the chair that allowed her to keep her eyes on the car every moment.

A short, square barkeep with a flat, red nose that suggested he partook a bit too much of his own stock, waddled over to their table. He gazed at them expectantly.

"I'll have a brandy please. And the lady will have-"

"I'll have a pint of Guiness," Elizabeth finished. She ignored the face he made. "And I'll have whatever the soup is for today."

When the barkeep waddled away again, William looked at her archly. He feigned distaste. "My cousin, Richard, drinks that swill."

"Your cousin, Richard, has good taste," she replied, her eyes sparkling in defiance.

A smirk sent his lips into a funny little angle. He had realized that first day that he would never be allowed an inch, but he couldn't help himself from trying. She was a puzzle and for every moment he spent with her, he was more willing to solve her. One moment she was nasty, the next charming. She threw him and he didn't like it.

A few minutes later, when the drinks and food had been placed before them, the employer and employee ate quietly as if they had known each other for years. The silence was comfortable and easy. The meal disappeared quickly, neither of them realizing how hungry they'd been. William ordered another round of drinks and, when Elizabeth looked at him nervously, he smiled at her.

"This is Lambton. We're not five miles from Pemberley." He took a quick swallow of brandy and watched, amazed, as Elizabeth threw back what was left, which was nearly a half pint, of her first beer.

She caught him looking at her. Her cheeks colored.

"I rarely run into a woman who can knock back a half-pint of Guiness without batting an eyelash."

"Practice," she replied. She didn't appear to need to offer any more of an explanation.

"Really?" He prodded.

"In school, my best friend, Annabel, and I would go out to the pubs on the weekends. She always got us involved in drinking games over billiards. I'm very good a snooker after a few pints."

He laughed as he pictured her getting boiled with her friends. It seemed very unelizabeth to him, but, he recalled, he didn't know enough about her to make that assumption.

"Would you please finish the drive? I'm afraid it has been a very long time since Annabel and I played billiards." She took a gulp of the fresh pint.

Another silence followed while they finished their drinks and when they rose to leave, William helped Elizabeth into the cardigan sweater she'd brought in with her.

"Thank you, sir."

He gently grabbed her shoulders, turning her to face him. Brown eyes locked on brown eyes. His forehead wrinkled and his eyes narrowed.

"For the last time, Miss Bennet, stop calling me that. Will is my name. Even William shall do. Anything but sir or Mr. Darcy."

Elizabeth's bottom lip caught between her teeth. He was still holding onto her shoulders, staring into her eyes. She tried to catch her breath as she tugged away. Her insides were shaking like electrical wires before a storm. Suddenly, all her nerve endings were raw.

"Fine," she whispered. "I'll stop calling you sir." She tore her eyes from his then and headed for the door.

Chapter 6, Part 2

She walked away so quickly that he was nearly jogging to keep up with her. Elizabeth was out the door and in the car when William remembered he had to pay for the meal. He returned to the table, tossed a few quid down, and noticed the perplexing Miss Bennet through the glass.

The woman sat in the passenger's seat, sunglasses on, tucking stray tendrils of auburn hair under a newly acquired head-scarf. For a moment, colors seemed brighter to William. It was like he was looking at Hollywood starlet on the movie screen.

William strolled back to the car but stood, waiting, at the car door until she finally looked up at him. He couldn't see her eyes, couldn't read her at all. He felt like he was flying blind.

"Did I do something wrong, Miss Bennet?"

She gave him a small, tinkling laugh that resembled silver tapping crystal. It seemed brittle, almost begrudging "No, you didn't. And I suppose if I am to call you William then you should call me by my name."

"Gladly, Elizabeth."

The way he said her name, how it rolled off his tongue and down her spine sent butterflies spinning in her stomach. Her toes curled involuntarily. Elizabeth shuddered as he got into the car.

"Are you cold?" He asked, turning as if he were going to reach for her.

She would have leaned away, but in the car's small cockpit there was no place to go. However, he did not touch her. He moved back as if he sensed that she couldn't bear for him to touch her. Desperately, she wished that she could fall into a hole. She must have appeared, by every count, insane.

The engine came to life. Addie hummed along like she had before, but something in the air had changed. William felt it. Elizabeth had allowed him something personal, her name, as if she had just sold her soul to the devil. Now she was acting peculiar. He felt her eyes on him, but couldn't look at her. She was unnerving him.

"What?"

"I'm sorry. I'm just socially inept," Elizabeth muttered. "I've never been good at being around people."

"No kidding." It came out sounding much harsher than he had meant for it to be. There was instant regret on his part. "Apparently, it rubs off." He added, trying to apologize.

"That isn't fair," she whispered. It sounded as if she might cry.

"Listen, neither of us seem very good at making the other comfortable. Why don't we stick to topics like the weather. That's nice and neutral."

She bowed her head. "I dislike weather greatly."

There was no winning. He looked over at her to find her looking back at him. She had taken her sunglasses off and was staring at him.

"Sir, I mean, William, we can't walk on eggshells. Otherwise, this will never work out. We have to be good to each other. How will I make your house a home if I don't allow you to be who you are?"

At that moment, Addie carried them through the main gate of Pemberley's seven mile driveway. Elizabeth realized immediately what was about to occur. She was about to face her inspiration.

"Point taken, Elizabeth," William said. He looked at her again and realized that he'd lost her attention to Pemberley's park. She was surveying everything, her eyes wide with excitement like a child on Christmas. He felt a twinge of pride.

They snaked through the park and, just before the last turn, William brought the car to a halt. The sun was behind the house in the sky, which meant Pemberley would be backlit. She was nearly glaring at him.

"I want you to see it the way I saw it for the first time," he told her softly. "My father brought me here on a day like this. I knew I couldn't present it to you any other way."

Her stomach clenched. What he had told he seemed so very intimate. But she had just given him permission to do as much. The only thing Elizabeth could think of was to repay him with a smile.

"I'm honored."

Very slowly, the Jaguar inched forward and the grand house began to slid into view. The pond could also be seen from this vantage point, making the house appear twice the size it was. Light seemed to glow around it like a halo. Indeed, Elizabeth felt it was every inch of heaven on earth. It great stone walls were still clean, the angles still perfect. Every line meant something to her; every window was another equation she did in her head. Pemberley was her manifest destiny. It was only right that she should be here.

"How do you like it?"

"I love it," she whispered. She couldn't find her voice to talk. "I want to go inside."

Several minutes later, William and Elizabeth were following Tate, which didn't seem to be a first name or a last name, just a name, around the interior of the great house. He was the caretaker, who lived with his wife, Chloe, about a mile and a half back from the house. William had rebuilt the caretakers house when after his father died. Tate and Chloe had been caretakers for decades though.

"I think we can take it from here, Tate." William said. He could tell Elizabeth could have done without the history. She was practically buzzing with energy. "I'll come by before we leave."

"Very well, sir."

The caretaker disappeared, leaving Elizabeth and William to their own devices. She was studying a corner, her brow furrowed when he caught up with her.

"What's wrong?"

"That moulding is wrong. See how it doesn't flow? And it doesn't match that mould over there." Her hand waved absently toward the direction she meant. "Somebody did a shoddy repair job."

"Then you'll have to fix it."

She grinned at him. "I will."

Elizabeth bounced through the rooms she had longed to look at for years. She pointed everything out that she wanted to do; the added library window, a refurbished hearth in the dining room, a different inlay in the parquet design of the ballroom's floor. It was as if somebody had taken a key and opened a treasure trove of joy. The woman before him had finally come to life and it was a fantastic event to witness.

"The sun is setting," she said, gazing out the window of a bedroom. "Is there a place to watch it in the park?"

"I know the perfect spot," William replied, giving her a lopsided grin. He took he hand, leading her out of the room.

In her excitement, Elizabeth didn't bother to let go of him. This had turned out to be a perfect day. She had seen Pemberley, realized a dream in a way. And now she was going to watch the sunset with William. Their destination was a rickety little bridge that crossed over a creek that was more mud than water. It was a scenic little spot, but Elizabeth looked at him doubtfully.

"There's a bench across the bridge," he told her. "You cross first. I don't think the bridge will hold both of us."

Again, the unsure look played over her face. "That bridge, William, doesn't look like it will hold air."

"Trust me."

Slowly, carefully, Elizabeth stepped onto the creaking boards. They moaned and groaned beneath her feet. The thought that she was walking on the bony backs of tiny old women fluttered into her mind. She was nearly halfway across when she saw movement in the corner of her eye. She focused on where the movement came from and froze.

On the worn boards before her was a huge snake. The scream escaped from her throat before she could stop it. When they were children Mary's pet snake had escaped and crawled into Elizabeth's bed while she was sleeping. She had awakened with the monster tangled in her hair. It had had to be cut out.

"Elizabeth! What's wrong?"

"Snake. There's a very large snake staring at me."

"Back up. Slowly," William added.

"I...I can't. I can't move," she whimpered. She swallowed another scream.

"I'm coming for you," he said gently.

"Hurry."

Gingerly, William stepped onto the bridge. It bowed under their combined weight, but seemed steady enough for him to retrieve her. He heard the snake hiss. He didn't know anything about the creatures. He hoped that it wasn't poisonous.

The hiss made her jump slightly. The bridge shuddered.

"Elizabeth, don't move. Not a muscle. Stay still."

She could only whimper.

"I'm right behind you. I'm going to put my hand on your shoulder. Don't be startled."

Just as William touched her the long, black snake began to uncoil and move. She shrieked and jumped and the bridge splintered into thousands, millions of pieces. The three of them, Elizabeth, William, and the snake, tumbled into the mud below while wood bits scratched at them as they too fell. Elizabeth panicked now that she couldn't see the snake, but the mud prevented her from gaining ground. She clambered to get up, but kept slipping back into the oozing mess.

"Elizabeth! Miss Bennet!" He bellowed. From her seat in the mud, she looked at him, tears streaking her mud-stained face. "Elizabeth. Stay there so that I may get us both out of this pit."

He managed to get to his feet, pull her up and get them to the bank. She looked in vain through the dark for more slithering reptiles, terrified that there might be more.

"Let's get back to the house before we're lost out here in the dark," he said. He took her hand, this time out of necessity.

Another soft whimper, the prospect of being in the park with snakes in the dark to horrible for words. The last embers of the day were quickly fading away. She let him lead her toward the house.

"William?" She asked as they stood outside the courtyard doorway.

"Yes?"

"I'm sorry about the bridge." A sob broke on the last word.

He turned to her and saw her in the light from the house. New tear streaks marked her dirty face. She looked utterly pathetic.

He laughed heartily until she too started laughing. When he finally caught his breath he said: "Don't worry, Elizabeth. I hired you to build me a new one."

Chapter 6, Part 3

The large, fluffy white towel felt like heaven in Elizabeth's hands. William had put them in the dryer for a few moments before he handed them out so that they could wipe the filth from their bodies. They stood in the aptly named mudroom just off of the great kitchen trying to remove the grime. But, however heavenly the towels felt, they did little more than spread the muck around.

"Perhaps this would work better if we just stood on the lawn and waited for the lawn sprinklers," William suggested wryly.

"I doubt that would contribute anything useful. Instead of just being dirty we'd be dirty and sodding wet," Elizabeth muttered, dragging the towel over her cheek. A tiny bit of mud came away from it. "What is this bloody stuff made of? Super glue?"

"Feels like it, doesn't it?"

A few minutes later they stood staring at each other. The towels were an unmitigated failure. Each mud-covered person, both looking like a chocolate Easter candy, gave a resigned sigh as they took the four remaining towels out to Addie. The clean cloths were spread out over her upholstery in an attempt to keep her unsoiled.

"We're still a bit too damp to sit on the leather," Elizabeth pointed out.

He gave her a quick nod of agreement and suggested that they return to the house. The early spring evening was beginning to turn chill. It would do neither of them any good to get ill. They made an uncomfortable retreat in their stiff clothes back to the kitchen where William discovered a well-stocked cabinet, including coffee and real canned soup; homemade soup in mason jars.

"Hungry?" He asked.

"Not really, but if you make that coffee I'll marry you."

"Gah! A threat!" Alarm seeped into his voice, but the grin on his face belied the humor in his taunt. "I don't know if there's cream or sugar."

"I take it black." She looked for someplace to sit down then disappeared into the mudroom. She returned almost immediately with two not so soiled towels. She placed them on two of the chairs that surrounded a blonde oak table snuggled into a corner.

The coffee's strong, warm aroma filled her nose and brought back flashes of Annabel. The coffee-fueled late night study sessions that Elizabeth and Annabel partook of had been legendary on campus. Annabel was infamous in so many ways, but the test prep nights were tall tales told like rites of passage. Even those who didn't like Elizabeth because of her aloof manner stood in awe of "coffee crams" with Annabel.

The most brutal coffee cram was the last final before graduation. Annabel had needed to pass a structural design course or she would not get her degree. She packed so much information into her head in the space of six hours that not only did she pass the course, her grade actually boosted her up to high honors.

When Annabel accepted her diploma, she thanked "Lizzy and coffee, who taught me more than some boring old professor." Annabel always did enjoy causing a scene.

William brought over a small bowl of soup and a crust of fresh bread. She looked at him with a question in her eyes.

"I think Tate hides up here sometimes. Chloe has been known to nag him a bit."

Elizabeth gave him a laugh while he back to the counter. He returned a few moments later with her coffee. She wrapped her small hands around the pale grey ceramic mug, taking in warmth through her stiff, mud-caked fingers. For a moment she wondered if the dirt would ever come out from under her fingernails.

"Eat your soup, Elizabeth. I won't have you getting sick because of your first trip to Pemberley and our impromptu spa treatment." He flashed her a stunning grin that made Elizabeth's stomach roll.

For the second time that day, William and Elizabeth passed a meal in comfortable silence. He watched her as she absently sipped soup from her spoon. She had her eye on the walls and a door across the room that seemed particularly troubling to her. Every time she glanced at it, her brow furrowed a bit and she looked cross. He stifled a chuckle the fifth time the bothersome door made the mistake of falling into her line of sight.

When the soup and bread were gone they cleared away the dishes, giving them a quick wash. Elizabeth drank her fill of the coffee with two more rich, steaming mugs.

"You'll never sleep tonight," he informed her.

"I don't sleep anyway."

Something in her tone told him he was better off not pursuing her reply even if she was the one who brought it up.

See, folks! He can be taught, William thought.

"What do you say I just give Tate and Chloe a quick call and we get back to town. I'll bet my family is ready to send the bobbies after me."

She nodded and went to rinse her mug as he made the telephone call. He gave a good natured if not flirty apology to, Elizabeth hoped, Chloe for not making a stop before their departure. He cradled the receiver and picked up his ruined jacket. Looking helplessly at it, his body pushed out a forlorn moan.

Elizabeth laughed.

"Funny, eh? My tailor will never see me again after I tell him what happened to this suit."

"I dare say, Mr. Darcy, that Saville Row shall manage without you."

He chuckled. "Ah, yes, Miss Bennet, but my tailor isn't on Saville Row. My tailor is in a little shop far away from Saville Row. He dressed my father and his father dressed my grandfather. In my family, we're a loyal bunch."

There was a thoughtful nod from Elizabeth then came an elegantly arched brow. "Not on Saville Row? Who would ever have pegged William Darcy as a cheapskate?"

He shook his head, getting the point that her barbs could go on all evening if her kept fanning the flames. It would be easier just to let her win.

"Care to drive?" She asked him, not letting herself think about Madame Impervious' unhappy reaction at the suggestion. She wanted to like William; indeed she did like him. Determined to put former behaviours behind her, she worked hard at playing nice. She only hoped it would be enough though she didn't allow herself to think enough for what. Tossing the keys in his direction, she slid smoothly onto the towels that they'd put down.

"That mud is dry enough that it's just going to flake off in here," William pointed out as he flicked the switch that brought Addie's top back up into place.

"She's detailed once a week," she replied, shrugging.

The engine hummed to life when the key clicked in the ignition. The vibration of the motor whispered through their bodies, giving each their own distinct pleasure. For Elizabeth, Addie's soft rumble swept every seed memory of Thom Bennet she'd ever had across her mind; William suffered acutely from testosterone and the pure delight of a fine automobile and a beautiful woman. In that sense he was like every other rich man Elizabeth encountered.

Night had been at full bloom by then, settling into its role like an actor who'd performed the same part a thousand times. Early spring stilled chilled the air but a few crickets chose to defy Mother Nautre and start their season-long serenade. The scent of hesitant flowers attempted to perfume the air, but seemed to think better of it, it was so faint. The moon began her ascent in the velvet blue sky while stars peeked around grey tufts of cloud like children playing hide and seek.

Elizabeth could not recall ever seeing a night more beautiful in her life. A mud-dried curl fell against her cheek, but she was too tired to reach for it so it remained at rest on her smooth cheek. Her whole body was murmuring that it would begin to ache because of the struggle that ensued after happening upon That Vile Creature.

"I'd like to apologize again," she said, her voice heavy with approaching sleep.

"For?"

"Reacting so violently to That Vile Creature." The capital letters seemed to fall into place when she spoke and it made him smile.

"Oh," was all he said.

I had one get tangled in my hair as a child. It bit my cheeks and ears. Mama had to cut it out and all the while I was afraid I was being poisoned."

"Terrible."

William glanced at her and, in the dim light the instrument panel cast into the cockpit, saw that her eyes were closed. He switched on the radio and loud rock music burst into the air like a geyser. He fumbled for the volume. Another look at Elizabeth proved she was sound asleep.

The Jaguar came to a stop in front of the house in London. When he cut the engine, William waited a moment, telling himself that he wanted Elizabeth to awaken on her own. Somewhere, in place that William wasn't quite aware of, he knew he just wanted to watch her sleep.

Today the cool exterior had melted away and he was able to see her at her most brilliant, at her most passionate. And she'd been glorious to behold. So vital, so raw with energy and excitement that William had honestly forgotten to dislike her. He would have been infinitely wealthy if he could have bottled her enthusiasm. He was glad of the chance to see her in her element. It gave him the chance to respect and admire her.

The dirty curl was still resting on her smudged cheek, but it didn't mar her appearance in the least. She looked like a little girl sleeping after a big day out; innocent and peaceful.

"Elizabeth? We're home," he whispered when it was obvious that she wouldn't wake on her own. He said it softly, hoping that she wouldn't hear him.

She stirred. "Home? That quickly?"

Her voice was thick like syrup running down his spine. It caused his vision to blur and his head to spin. It started in his toes and rumbled up through him until it hit like a cyclone in his mind.

"Well, my home anyway. I don't know if you should drive. It's getting late, you know."

Her sleep was shattered at that moment. "Oh, dear! No. I'm perfectly fine. Lyddy is probably still awake waiting for me. Oh, and she has school in the morning. I have to get home."

She didn't bother to get out of the car when he did. She just scooted across the towel-covered seat. Peering up at him through the open window, she allowed him a final, blinding smile.

"Thank you for today, William."

"You're very welcome, Elizabeth."

"Have a goodnight," she said, no trace of sleep remaining.

Her voice hung in the air as Addie carried Elizabeth away. He watched the street in the direction she'd disappeared for a very long time then sighed. Indeed, he had wholly forgotten to dislike her...or her car.

Chapter 6, Part 4

Lydia snorted. Every giggle, every chuckle, every guffaw that Lydia Bennet had ever emitted from her petite body in the whole of her life had been punctuated with a short but loud snort that was the bane of her existence. She had tried hard for years to curb the obnoxious and embarrassing noise, but her body would not have it. It seemed to think the laugh was amusing, but Lydia cursed it. She made it a point not to laugh in front of people meeting her for the first time. Her friends knew better than to say anything about it, although most of them were amused by it and many times when Lydia laughed it got the whole group going.

Thom Bennet had called her "Little Piglet" when Lydia was a child, but he was the only one who had ever been allowed to use the epithet. She had once given Kate a black eye because she dared use the nickname.

She looked again at Elizabeth. Her sister was still filthy, but Lydia had demanded the whole story before Elizabeth would be allowed to take her leave to chisel mud from her body.

"A snake!? Oh, Lizzy, you really must get over that," Lydia said, trying desperately and failing to stifle a particularly loud chortle. "But you landed in William Darcy's arms. How romantic!"

"It wasn't romantic," Elizabeth muttered, ignoring the tiny thought in the back of her head that it was, indeed, romantic. "It was embarrassing. And, Lyddy, I am begging you. Please, do not mention this to Kate or Jane or Mary. Telling you is a special enough kind of torture, I assure you."

The younger girl with chestnut colored curls avoided looking directly into her sister's eyes. It was an absolutely delicious story. How could she deprive her sisters of something so delightful? Finally, she let her gaze fall on Elizabeth, who stared solemnly at the floor.

"Oh, Jeez, Lizzy! Fine, I won't tell anybody," she whined. "Though I'm sorely tempted. So what happened after you returned to that fabulous house?"

"He found some towels, made some soup, then we came home."

Lydia's face twisted in disbelief. Elizabeth choked back a laugh at her sour-lemon look.

"That ending, dear sister, desperately needs some work. Why don't we say that you toweled him off then asked him to return the favor. After that, he swept you up in his arms and you made love on the kitchen floor." Lydia smiled thoughtfully as she imagined how dirty handsome William Darcy must have been.

"Lydia! Where do you get such ideas?" Elizabeth exclaimed. She knew better than to think Lydia was sweet and innocent. For seventeen years old, she was very grown up, sometimes more grown up than Elizabeth would have liked.

"I read novels."

"You read smut. It's those books by that Diamond person. She's so vulgar," Elizabeth muttered.

"She puts the "z" in romanzzzzzze!" Lydia yelped the battlecry of her favorite author then grinned. She looked past Elizabeth to the clock on the wall. It was well after midnight and she did have school in the morning. "I had better get to bed. Why couldn't you have gotten dirty with a wealthy bachelor on the weekend?"

Elizabeth laughed, turned off the kitchen light, and followed her sister upstairs. She watched Lydia until she closed her bedroom door then went into the bathroom to begin the long process of dirt removal.

William stood under the hot stream of water that fell over his body. The water ran over his skin and dropped to the pale grey marble beneath his feet. It resembled syrup; thick and brown. He braced his hands on the wall, bending his head into the stream. The dry mud loosened and fell out of his hair in clumps. But, William paid very little attention to the grime that was flowing off his body. His thoughts kept going back to the redhead that he'd spent the day with and how lovely her smile had been once he was finally able to coax it from her.

A rather large bit of mud slipped from the top of his head onto his forehead then down his nose. It shook him out of his thoughts as it plopped to the slick surface below. He smirked again at the laughs his story had given Georgiana, Jeremy, and Richard. But he also recalled the strange look that Richard gave him when he finished the tale. William left out the part about watching Elizabeth sleep. That was his and his alone.

He finished up in the shower, toweled his body off, and wrapped the towel around his waist. He entered his bedroom to find his bed empty and large. Clara was still working. He could hear the faint clicking of the keyboard in the room that they had set up as Clara's office.

Hesitating for only a moment, William tossed a pair of flannel pajama bottoms on and went in search of her. He opened the door of the office, which was down the hall from the bedroom. The room was smaller than the other rooms on the floor, which was why she had chosen it as her office.

"Clara?"

He heard an exasperated sigh escape from her body. She hated to be interrupted when she was working. She had asked him to put a lock on the door, but he refused. He didn't like the request, but not for any particular reason. He'd just thought it rude.

"I'm sorry to bother you. I was just wondering when you were going to come to bed. It's very late," he added.

"I work best late at night," she replied without turning to face him.

"You haven't slept in my bed with me since you moved in, Clara," William said, quietly. He walked into the room and didn't like the feeling that there was a room in his own house where he felt like an intruder. "You come to bed when I go to work and you're in this office when I come home. I haven't seen you in ages."

Clara stood up, stretching her long body in a swift, graceful movement. Her bobbed, blonde hair swung against her ears in an untidy manner. There were always flyaway hairs on her head no matter what she did. Her body was wrapped in a frumpy nightshirt that had a caricature of Edgar Allen Poe on it that said "Neversnore."

"Darling, you know I've been working. I'm on a deadline."

William's face bunched up in an incredulous glare. "Your bloody deadline is in November!"

"There's a lot of research to be put into this project, William," she replied, her voice turning cool.

"Fine. I'll be out of bed by six. You can come in then." He turned to go.

"William!" She tried to whisper, her voice breaking.

He stood, his back to her, his hand on the doorknob. He felt her hands on his bare shoulders. They were cool like porcelain and just as smooth. Her lips brushed a shoulder blade.

"I'm sorry. You're right, we've not spent any time together since I moved in. Let me shut down my machine and I'll be to bed in a moment. All right?"

There was no answer for a few minutes and Clara thought he would refuse her. She hadn't meant to make him angry. She just got so wrapped up in her research that it consumed her and when she was consumed she fell into her old patterns of day-sleeping and night-writing. It was old hat for her, but she'd never lived with anybody while she was writing before. She'd forgotten that what she was used to was new to other people.

"Fine. I'll wait for you."

Clara watched him leave. She returned to the computer and began closing up programs. When everything was done, Clara scrawled a couple of things that she wanted to remember to research on a piece of notepaper. A few moments later, she padded into the master bedroom of the townhouse that she had only recently come to occupy. Quietly, she slipped into the bed and placed a soft kiss on William's chest.

She gazed up at him expectantly, surprised when she saw that he was asleep. A few minutes later, Clara was again sitting in front of her computer and William was again sleeping alone in his bed.

Chapter 7

The east morning room was easily Elizabeth's favorite room at Pemberley. She had decided that it should be immersed in shades of dusty moss green and creamy butter yellow to make it seem like a bit of the outdoors captured inside. The walnut trimmed Elizabethan furniture, many of the pieces heirlooms of the Darcy family, had been reupholstered in yellow damask.

A settee, which had been a gift to a distant Darcy aunt from Georgiana, Duchess of Devonshire, was Elizabeth's favorite piece in the room. It was so beautiful and unique that Elizabeth took it up as a personal crusade to keep it in its original condition. The covering was done in a pale, foamy green silk that was so light it was nearly white. The silk had been embroidered (by hand no less!) with tiny darker green fish that looked like flower bouquets lying sideways from a distance. The wood trim was just as intricate as the embroidery. The single arm of the settee was trimmed in walnut with the top curving into an open mouthed trout. The foot beneath the trout was carved into a fishtail. Three more carved fishtails served as the rest of the feet.

She had loved the piece as soon as she saw it in the attic where massive amounts of antique furniture had been stored over generations of Darcys. Some of the furniture was beyond repair and some of it was hideous. But this piece was an incredible find. William had begged to differ, but Elizabeth had none of it and insisted that it would be perfect in the east morning room.

And perfect it was as she lie there in the filmy white negligee that William had brought her from Paris. It was early evening and the fire in the white marble fireplace was filling the lovely room with layer upon layer of cozy warmth as Elizabeth tried to read the novel in her lap. She could hardly concentrate though. Her mind kept going elsewhere. To William.

She had never been happier in her life, knowing that William loved her. His love was warmer than a thousand fires in a thousand white stone hearths. She had never felt so needed or wanted. Certainly not by somebody she so desperately loved in return.

It had only been a few weeks that the affair had been going on, but Elizabeth felt every bit the Mistress of Pemberley. She had been born for the role, after all. London was so very far away when she was here. Her life at Pemberley was the stuff of dreams. Days sipping tea and playing the dutiful society matron and evenings wrapped in William's powerful embrace.

"You're staring so diligently into that fire, darling, I fear that your eyes may melt."

His voice sent trembles through her, making her realize not for the first time, that he was the only thing that kept her real. She felt her eyes pull away from the orange flames that licked at the carved marble dragons to settle her gaze upon him. He had already changed out of his suit and into her favorite look for him: sweatpants and a plain tee shirt, which pulled tight across his chest, against the muscles.

She sighed.

"Really, Lizzy, you could play hard to get every once in a while," he laughed and graced her with a crooked grin.

"But you'd know I was lying and where's the fun in that?"

He gave her a thoughtful nod as he crossed the room and scooped her into his arms. He took her place on the settee and brought her down onto his lap. She felt a shudder run through her as his lips brushed the back of her neck. Her body leaned in closer to his as his kisses increased.

She twisted around in his arms until she was facing him and their lips repeatedly searched and destroyed each other's resistance to passion. Her heart threatened to shoot out of her chest and smash into the wall. Her hands ran up his abdomen, pushing his shirt up as she went.

"Lizzy!" Kate's voice yelped from the doorway.

They froze in their compromising position. Slowly, William peeked around Elizabeth's body. When she saw the look on his face, she slowly turned around.

William's Irish wolfhound, Gustav, known to all as Gus, was sitting in the doorway, his tail thumping expectantly. He opened his mouth and Kate's voice rolled from his throat. "Lizzy!"

Elizabeth's face was smashed against the drafting table, her arms stretched above her on the incline, and an ever-so-slightly disgusting bit of drool pooling by the crook of her elbow as she opened her eyes. They blinked her back to a reality where dogs didn't talk and, most importantly, architects didn't snog in front of roaring fires with handsome, wealthy clients. The inevitable blush fired over her cheeks.

"Good Lord, Lizzy, are you all right?" Kate asked, setting her purse and keys down on one of the office's cluttered tables.

The elder Bennet wiped the corner of her mouth then retrieved a tissue to remove the puddle from her workspace. As luck would have it, no blueprints had been spread out before her, but a single sheet of graph paper had caught some of the saliva. A sheet of paper that read, to her abject horror, the words 'William Darcy' what must have been no less than a million times. That, however, wasn't the worst of it. Indeed, the worst was 'Mrs. Elizabeth Darcy' or any number of embarrassing variations of madness.

More quickly than she should have, Elizabeth snatched up the paper and darted for the paper shredder. Kate had nearly reached her when the document started its journey toward life as confetti.

Kate's bottom lip popped out in a pout. "Lizzy, that's just mean. What was on it?"

"Nothing that concerns you." Or me.

Elizabeth liked to think of Kate as a younger version of their mother. She wasn't beautiful but she was very pretty. Her hair was a light brown that was streaked with gold. Her eyes were the color of the sky right before a storm and were set in a face that was a tad too square with a nose that was just a millimeter too short.

Desperate to change the subject, she looked over her sister and asked: "Is this another one of your creations then?"

Kate gave herself a once over, held out her arms, and spun around to model the outfit. She wore a full, tea-length blue and white gingham skirt. Her top was a dark blue jean jacket with bright orange stitching. It was a size too small and unbuttoned just enough to give a peek at Kate's cleavage. She had slipped her small feet into a pair of white satin ballerina slippers.

"Very you, darling," Elizabeth said. She passed her and gave Kate a quick kiss on the cheek.

"Thank you," Kate replied, beaming. She took great pride in being herself. It was something that Mary scorned and Jane couldn't appreciate.

"So, what are you doing here?"

Kate's face fell instantly. Her long silence made Elizabeth look up from a batch of cloth swatches to ask the question again. Kate stared at her, her eyes trying to prompt Elizabeth's memory.

"Lizzy, please tell me that you didn't forget."

Nothing seemed to be pressing in her mind until she started to shake her head no. The appointment rattled from loose from whatever shelf her brain had stored it on and plopped down into her immediate memory.

"The exhibit at the gallery. Oh, Katey, I'm sorry."

"We're still going?" The tremble of disappointment that laced Kate's voice made Elizabeth cringe.

"Of course, but I have to change." Elizabeth replied, showing Kate the jeans and sweatshirt ensemble the same way Kate had modeled her outfit.

"Okay, but hurry. Cocktails start at 7:30 and traffic is very heavy. And, Lizzy, something funky."

Elizabeth rolled her eyes and disappeared into the spare room of the office. She was here so much that she had converted it into a closet/bedroom. Most of her wardrobe was here...what Lydia hadn't managed to steal anyway. She emerged a few minutes later in a long, black empire-waisted dress and black heels. She had a light blue cardigan sweater tied around her waist.

"This, dearest sister, is as funky as it gets."

Kate laughed and led the way out to the car. Elizabeth managed to get herself into the car, but her feet were a different story. The floorboard was buried in a mound of clothes.

"Katey, you need to clean out your car."

"I drive a car that is as old as I am and it barely starts in the morning. Clothes on the floorboard works like an insulation when the heater doesn't work."

Kate turned up the radio when a song she liked came on and the sisters passed through the heavy London traffic singing along with pop music and laughing at the absurdity of some of the pop stars who thought they were very important. They had always had an easy relationship. With the exception of Mary, the Bennet girls got on exceedingly well with one another. And they even believed that Mary would eventually come around.

The gallery was packed. Kate's best friend, Amie, was the new curator and this was her first major show. Amie was incredibly nervous and, therefore, ecstatic when she saw Kate and Elizabeth enter the gallery.

"Katey, tell me again why I am doing this?" Amie pleaded. "Hi, Elizabeth."

"Because you love this stuff."

Amie shook her head, her perfect sky blue hair shimmering under the lights of the gallery. As long as Elizabeth had known her, Amie O'Connor had never had a haircolor that people would consider normal. It had never detracted from her beauty, it had only added to it.

"Come on, there are some people I want you to meet."

Kate grabbed for Elizabeth's hand but she pulled it back. "I'm going to go around and look at the exhibit. I'll find you later."

She waited for Kate to leave the room and got a glass of wine from a passing waiter. Elizabeth had been to this gallery before and knew the layout. She immediately followed the path of least resistance to escape the crowd and find peace on a balcony. She was sociable enough to enjoy large crowds of people she didn't know. She would look at a few paintings to discuss with Kate and then see the rest later when there weren't as many people around.

Elizabeth gazed out over London at night. From her vantage point she could see the Thames flowing agelessly beneath the lights of the city. For a moment, she wondered how many people throughout the passage of time had taken in this same view of the city (or one similar to it) and thought about how lucky they were to live in a city such as London.

London was timeless. For Elizabeth, it had always been there as there had always been breath in her lungs or a thought in her brain. The city was ancient, constant, and she understood it. Others took for granted the ceilings above their heads and the floors beneath their feet, but Elizabeth appreciated that, once, somebody had thought long and hard about just who would walk on those floors under those ceilings. Somebody had to erect those ancient buildings and she'd studied nearly every single one of those who'd left their a piece of their soul behind in mortar, boards, and bricks. No other city on earth held Elizabeth's heart like London.

"This a private party?"

She started, nearly losing her wine glass over the balcony's thick stone railing. Quickly, she turned around and saw William Darcy's solid, real form back-lit from the room beyond. Her dream came rushing back to her and she swallowed the rest of her wine.

Continued In Next Section