Section I, Next Section
Author's Note: This is fully edited by my good friend Margaret D. And so, without further ado, I take you on a literary escapade that will last approximately 11 days, for me to post each and every finished (hurrah!) part.
On June 1, Charles Bingley went off the deep end and decided that he was not happy as a bachelor anymore. He was in love.
And so that evening, under the romantic lights of the stars shining over the Thames, and over the faint but insistent background of evening London traffic, he proposed to the love of his life, Jane Benneton.
On June 9, he sat in a dining room with his sister and his fiancée, wading through lists and address books.
Now, Jane presented her list, as Carolyn pouted her lips over some of the names. "Anne Elliot?"
"My old roommate from Carnegie-Mellon," Jane insisted. "She's one of my closest friends..."
An American...but of course...Carolyn gritted her teeth. Her brother just had to fall for an American...
"And pray, what does she do?"
"Annie is a professor of fluid mechanics at Carnegie-Mellon."
Annie. What an American name. Carolyn archly said, in her most British tones, "I see. And Elinor Dashwood?"
Jane frowned at Carolyn. "She is a columnist for the London Times, and we are close friends."
A writer friend... Ah yes, Jane had plenty of those. Never mind that her brother knew his share ...
Jane was a magazine writer. A travel magazine writer. What else could a magazine be, with the title National Geographic?
But, she supposed, that was fair revenge. She should have looked after her brother more. He was a publisher. Any number of young journalist or author women would be able to snare him.
And apparently, Carolyn inspected Jane's worn blue jeans, one did.
Charles interceded. "Yes, Elinor went to high school with me! You remember, Carolyn, I invited her to dinner here a few times."
Carolyn scoffed.
Jane looked at her future sister-in-law, and looked at Charles. Charles looked at Jane sympathetically. "Carolyn, would you call the printer and tell them that the list will be there tomorrow?"
Carolyn sighed. Of course she had to do everything.
As soon as she left, Jane allowed herself to sigh contentedly. "She doesn't like me..." she mused.
"I guess she won't visit often..." Charles said softly.
"Too bad...and I know how close you are to her..." she smiled into his embrace.
He chuckled.
"Annie Eliot. I've heard the name," he looked back at Jane's list.
"Did I tell you that Annie's family owns Eliot International?"
Charles laughed. "You are meaner than I thought. If you had said that, you wouldn't have riled Carolyn nearly as much..."
"Yes, but if I didn't rile her, she'd still be in this room..." Jane looked up to her fiancé for a kiss, and she was granted one.
"You're evil..." he rewarded her with another kiss.
"But you love me that way." Jane laughed. "Let me see your list. Who do you have on yours? A bunch of Oxford buddies?"
"Yes, and some older friends, from Exeter."
"And how does Carolyn feel about having a brother who went to an American school?"
"She's dealt with it. She still pretends that it was a part of the darkest years of my life, when I didn't really know who I was," Charles rolled his eyes.
Jane continued to scan the guest list. Edward Ferrars. Robert Ferrars. The London Times editors. Expected, after all, her fiancé was big in the publishing business, with William Darcy.
George Knightley. Oxford chum, and now respectable well-known banker.
Emalyne Woodhouse. Elyse Bennet. The Romance writers? "You know Emalyne Woodhouse and Elyse Bennet?" Jane pondered aloud.
"Yes, Elyse and I go way back. She went to Exeter with me. William's debate partner."
"Debate as a team or debate with each other?"
"We couldn't tell..." Charles flashed his happy nostalgic smile.
"And how do you know Emalyne?"
"Ema's my cousin-in-law. My cousin's wife's cousin. In the midst of the boredom of family reunions, some good things do come about. A similar aversion for one cousin led the two of us to form an alliance."
Jane laughed. "I hope you tell me some more stories about these alliances of yours..." she continued to look down the list. "Frederick Wentworth?"
"Another Oxford friend. He's the CEO of Wentworth Shipping. Worked his way up, when the company used to be called Eliot Shipping, a long time ago..."
And of course Darcy. Always William Darcy, she smiled. If it weren't for William, they would never have met.
Following were some obscure names, of which Charles described the characters in vivid detail, leaving our couple in happy conversation until Carolyn returned to dampen the mood.
Invitations surpassing the number of 200 were to be sent out the following Monday, and Charles Bingley's secretary sighed in frustration as she checked addresses on Thursday afternoon.
Did they really need to mail an invitation to Mr. William Darcy? He was upstairs. She could hand-deliver it!
In the office next door, Charles was on the phone. "Yes, of course, I understand you're moving and things, but where should I send the invitation?"
On the other side of the line, a woman sighed and toed the bubbles on the other side of the tub. Her blonde hair was piled up at the top of her head, a golden mess that shone like a halo under the lights of the bathroom. Her blue eyes glowed as she joked around, "What if I don't want to come?"
"I should seriously find you and maim you, then!"
The woman laughed. "I'll try to get around to coming then."
"And the invitation should be sent to?"
"Ms. Ema Woodhouse, but of course."
"Ema...what address should I send it to?"
"Send it to my agent for now. I already know about the ceremony; you just called me. And so I'll be there. I should be moving into the apartment on next Tuesday. My agent will forward it to me there."
"Was that a New York "a" that I caught in there? Carolyn would be scandalized!" he teased his friend. "She'll never forgive you for moving."
"Because there's an ocean and a social class distinction between us now?" Ema smiled, sitting up in the tub. "Oh drat. I'm to meet Elly soon for dinner. I'll talk to you some other time. Congratulations, Charles."
With that, Ema pulled the plug of the bathtub, and grabbed a robe.
Charles was getting married? Charles, who used to be her companion at those stupid weddings in the family, was getting married himself, leaving her partnerless.
She was positive that Jane, whoever she was, was a sweet beautiful woman; she trusted Charles to be able to pick his own brides. But really, that left her all alone!
A knock on the door startled her out of her thoughts. That had to be Elly.
Ema met Elyse Bennet at a party that Charles had given. They immediately became good friends, and when Ema decided to relocate to New York, Elly, the native New Yorker, was the first person she called. Between the two of them, they'd be able to get a nice pretty little apartment on Central Park West, and split that astronomically high bill between them.
It was an arrangement that Ema enjoyed the more she thought about it. Living in New York, with a pretty good friend. On her own, away from all those people like Carolyn Bingley.
It wasn't that she disliked her cousin-in-law, it was just that she disliked a certain kind of people in general. Those kind of people included people who had the name of Carolyn and Bingley put together. And she was proud that her prejudices only included a small number of people in the world, and in her acquaintance, only one.
She finished tightening the belt of her robe and went to the door. "Hello hello!" she said, smiling.
And jumped back. "Oh, you."
"Nice to see you as well, dearest Ema!" he smiled. "Oh, I'm not sure if I really have the time to come and sit for tea..."
"Good, because..."
"But if you're going to press me, why not?" he entered the hotel room.
Ema stood by, now grabbing the collar of her robe closer to her. Ok, her prejudices also included people with the names George and Knightley put together. Two people in all her acquaintance wasn't a bad statistic.
"What are you doing in the States? Go back to your little bachelor pad in England; or go back to your merry foreclosing!" she snidely said, still standing by the door, gesturing.
"You can keep the door open as long as you want, but remember that you're the one in the robe," George said, taking a seat at one of the couches in the suite, and enjoying her usual jibe at his profession. For being a writer, she seemed to lack the creativity to come up with new ways to make fun of his being a banker. "I'm here on business," he said, over his shoulder. "I'm merrily foreclosing over on this side of the ocean for the next week or so."
Ema frowned, and then decided the second best way to deal with impertinent Knightleys (like Isabelle and John) was to ignore them. She walked past him, into her bedroom, and shut the door.
Elyse Bethany Bennet got on the elevator of the Plaza Hotel and pressed the button for the top floor. She sighed back, and closed her midnight blue eyes. Her dark brown hair was pulled back in a now messy bun.
It had been a long day. She'd had to deal with a hero and a heroine who would not get along, and no matter how hard she tried, she just couldn't push them together, and so she did the cliché thing and trapped them in the elevator.
Disgruntled with her work, she had deleted all her progress that afternoon before leaving to meet with Ema.
Emalyne Woodhouse, the daughter of an English Lord, and a romance writer. Her future roommate. She was so completely odd that Elly was sure that Ema and she would get along capitally.
She got off the elevator, and walked to Ema's room. Knocking on the door, she checked her watch. She winced when she realized that she was fifteen minutes late. She couldn't help it if Darcie was being an idiot.
Darcie. Her newest heroine. A young spirited woman who worked for the hero's family. A sweetheart for the family, and hand-picked to be the hero's sweetheart. Neither appreciated the family gesture.
"Ema? Ema?" Elly continued to knock. Where was she?
The door opened, and an exasperated Ema turned back into the apartment. "I'm going out now. Can you leave me be already?"
Elly expected one of Ema's persistent suitors, perhaps Robert Elton, or Bill Collins. But she did not expect the handsome young man with the expensive-looking suit and glittering green eyes. Mesmerizing eyes they were, sparkling now with amusement as Ema took him by the arm now, and pushed him out the door. "George..." she said, in an almost childlike whine.
He did so love it when she used that voice. It proved that she never grew up. That was safe.
He looked at Elly, winked, and turned back to Ema. "Until next time."
Elly looked after him, breath caught in her throat. Her hero would have green eyes like that, with that light brown hair cut exactly like that. "Who was that?" Elly asked, eyebrow quirked suggestively, alluding to Ema's robe.
"George Knightley," she answered, not particularly affected by the appearance of her now-exiting guest as her now-arriving friend. "Don't let the name fool you."
"He's beautiful." Elly smiled, with a matter-of-fact look on her face.
"He's a nuisance. He doesn't leave you alone."
"Looking like that, he would have the right to bug me anytime."
"He forecloses on widows and orphans for a living," Ema said, examining her nails. "Don't be too impressed."
Elly looked at her friend. "You never told me about him before..."
"Because there's nothing to tell, and everything to disregard. George Knightley has been the "reform Emalyne" campaign, ever since I was young. He's only three years older, but he thinks he knows everything."
From the look of her friend, Ema knew Elly was already retelling the story in her own ideas in her mind, and from the mischievous sparkle in her eyes, Ema knew the story had turned into some Pygmalion-esque fluff. Therefore, she simply left it at that, and went back to her room to finish dressing, a task that had appeared to be the impossible dream in the last quarter of an hour, because of the interruption of her uncooperative guests.
"You can't avoid her this time, Darcy. It's my wedding," Charles persisted.
"I know, I know," William Darcy straightened his tie. "But Elly Bennet is such a..."
"Nice girl?" Charles asked.
"I was thinking more on the lines of banshee." Darcy's reflection scowled. His dark hair was hastily combed, and his brown eyes were infused with a streak of annoyance that hadn't disappeared for quite some time.
"Come man, admit it, she's an Angel!"
"Didn't you say the same thing about Jane?" Darcy smirked. "But I admit, you were right there. Conceded: Jane is a darling."
"So glad you approve," Charles rolled his eyes. "As for my lack of creativity; I pay for people to write good metaphors, but I don't have to speak them myself."
Darcy continued his preparations for the evening's festivities.
Charles persisted. "You haven't seen her in years. You are entitled to change your mind about her."
"Ah, but you forget. My good opinion once lost is lost forever," Darcy said without falter. "Implacable resentment," he reminded Charles, with joking pride.
Charles looked at his friend. "You're acting immature."
"I'm acting like myself," Darcy said. "Now if you'll excuse me, I've got to go to a production of Don Giovanni. Do you know where he goes to in the end? To hell! And you'll be there too, if you keep on spouting this nonsense about me making peace with that Bennet girl."
Charles followed Darcy out of the townhouse, and started to follow Darcy to his car, but Darcy turned around. "Don't start."
Charles said, "I already began..."
Darcy got in his car, and drove off without another word.
"Insufferable presumption!"
As if he couldn't spend fifteen minutes with Elyse Bennet without being in argument! What right had Charles to assume that they'd have to be seated, like children, and scolded to? They were adults. He was, at least.
And so, he lashed back any way he could.
Granted, the idea of meeting up with Elyse Bennet still did not appeal to him. She wasn't very companionable in high school, and he could bet that she wasn't better now. But he wasn't presuming she was the same. There was a chance (albeit very slim chance) that she grew up in the time he had not seen her.
Finally, he pulled up his black BMW by the curb of the rather large house at the edge of town. Why, oh why, did Lady Catherine persist that he and her daughter were destined to be together?
He got out his car, as he knew his cousin wouldn't want to be convenient and come out to meet him. He sighed. Another evening.
He rang the doorbell.
The butler answered and he acknowledged him with an awkward yet stiff smile. He stood in the very white, sterile-looking foyer, and waited as the butler announced. "Master Darcy is here, Madame."
Lady Catherine de Bourgh entered, Anne following. "Hello, William. Are you here to spirit away my daughter for the evening?" Lady Catherine asked, happily knowing the answer.
"But of course, Lady Catherine," he answered, with his usual stiff smile.
"So glad you could use the tickets. Mozart is too light for myself this month. I've been listening a lot to Beethoven. Had it been Fidelio..."
"I am sure you are right. June is hardly a month for light opera," Darcy complied gravely, trying to smother the sparkle he knew was dawning in his eyes. "The nerve of the theater to take on such a hopeless endeavor in such a month..." Rattle on, rattle on... If only he could have found a good excuse...
"But of course, my daughter is ready..." Lady Catherine turned to her daughter.
Lydia de Bough came down the stairs in a flash of bright red. "Darling!"
William forced a smile, and tried to muster a good compliment. "Lydia. You are a..." for lack of a better word... "Ruby..." His thoughts echoed Charles's earlier sentiments: he just published metaphors, and couldn't be expected to use good ones himself.
"Yes," Lydia framed her figure with her hands, brushing off imaginary lint from the sides. "This dress is very-"
"Red," Darcy said. "But the hour is getting late, and we don't want to miss the overture..."
"Huff..." Lydia sighed. "Who goes to the opera for the music anyhow?"
Darcy met his eyes with Anne, who acknowledged his own resigned thoughts. I do.
If only Anne went with him. They'd have a ball together. But no, it was Lydia Lady Catherine had in mind for Darcy. And Lydia seemed to like it that way.
They exited, Lydia's arm slithering around his in that possessive manner of hers.
"I'm so glad you could get the tickets!" Lydia gushed, after Darcy closed the car door after her. She immediately put down the visor and checked her reflection and lipstick in the mirror. Her eyes took 20 minutes to pencil! And no compliment from him. No "I love your eyes tonight" or "Your eyes are rather stunning tonight."
"I didn't get the tickets. You're mother did. You invited me, remember?"
Details, details, Lydia sighed. He wanted her. She knew it. They were the perfect couple. Lydia de Bourgh and William Darcy, the most glamorous couple in London. And it was best that way. Else wise, he'd fall into the snatches of those cats like Carolyn Bingley.
They didn't love him. She really did.
She loved being with him. Being in the society columns, seeing their names juxtaposed always made her heart thud, with pride. Watching him in his dealings with people made her ecstatically pleased, with the way he conducted himself in society. Yes, they would be the most beautiful couple in all history.
"Details, details. I just wanted to spend some quality time with you, darling."
"Might I remind you we're cousins?"
"Third cousins, once removed," Lydia said automatically. Must he always bring up that moot point? "Besides, you never protest to spending time with Anne," she said, almost jealously. But it was good for the publicity. After all, he showed that he liked the whole family, and therefore made everything appear so much better. She had to give him credit for that idea.
She smiled, and leaned back in her seat, careful to not crush the curls she'd so carefully positioned earlier. Closing her eyes, she dreamed that they were already married, and were spending their usual Tuesday night at the opera, as they were, of course, a cultured couple. In her dream, they'd left the sitter with the number of the theater, and she'd fondly kissed Snookums, their Persian cat, good night. The sitter would be in awe of how beautiful Mrs. Darcy was. Lydia Darcy. She sighed.
He sighed in exasperation. If Anne weren't already madly in love and engaged to Richard Fitzwilliam, he would have insisted that Lady Cat at least match him up with the good sister.
It sure was lonely without Jane or William around, Annie mused. It'd been years since they'd all graduated from Carnegie-Mellon but, as Annie looked around the apartment, it was still sad without them.
Going back to her alma mater to teach might not have been such a good idea.
All those students, smiling over their own ideals made her feel nostalgic and very much alone. She used to talk to Jane and William about that stuff.
She was quite popular on campus anyhow. They liked her very much, for she talked with them about those things.
But those students weren't really friends, they were...young adults who tried but could not see themselves at the age of twenty-nine. They were naïve. They weren't worried about the love of their lives passing before them, and they weren't worried about how the future started to look very stale, and rather...regular.
She'd been hopeful once too, when there were so many possibilities. But as the years went by, they just seemed to narrow themselves into one certain, very visible path.
And there was no room for a companion on that path.
Well, one companion. Spawn, her cat.
And now, dear Jane was getting married.
How depressing. She threw the elegant apricot-colored invitation aside with the rest of her mail, and leaned back in her desk chair. Beautiful cheerful Jane deserved all the happiness in the world, but she had no right to abandon her! She only hoped that William would not have any delusions of white lace and satin grandeur any time soon.
"He probably assumed you were going to go as Edward's date, and simply wanted to save on postage."
"Postage? Charles Bingley is very rich. I think he can afford to mail me my very own invitation!" Lucy Steele complained to her "dearest friend" Elinor Dashwood. "After all, you got your own invitation."
"That's because I'm not Edward's fiancée," Nora smiled. And for that I am eternally grateful!
"And what kind of girl is this Jane anyways? Carolyn has told me very nasty things."
"Jane is a very nice young woman," Nora began.
"She's out to get his money. That's for sure. Or to further her career. After all, Carolyn did tell me she was a writer for some small magazine. Perhaps she thought being the wife of a publisher would further her career. Well, she has to know now that the writing business won't have it!"
Why, because it learned its mistake from you? Nora was glad she kept her thoughts silent. Oh sure, there's nothing wrong with marrying the editor to get a prized position in investigative reporting... Impatient with the direction of her thoughts, she stood up, and grabbed her workbag. "There's an interview I must attend to."
Lucy followed Elinor Dashwood out of her office, but not without a longing look at Elinor's corner office, the one she had privately coveted for months but had not convinced her fiancé to let her have. "Of all the women of our acquaintance, Charles had to chose some woman whom none of us know. Doing things without our approval...well if he's unhappy, he can't blame us. We had no knowledge of whom he was dating. He dug his own grave."
I know her... Nora's thoughts muttered. There was only so much of Lucy Steele she could put up with. And she had reached her quota for the day. "Tell Edward he'll get his column by noon tomorrow," she said as the elevator doors closed between them, Nora on her way down, and Lucy to remain in the newsroom. "I'm not coming back today."
Moving really sucked. Ema discovered that she was very much allergic to it, as she wiped her brow with her sleeve. And they still had to move all of Elly's things from her apartment.
And she hated New York traffic.
Crying in exasperation, she prayed to fortune for a relief.
"Why didn't you just ask me to help you move?"
And she was scorned. "Hello, George," she got up as smoothly as she could, though her legs felt horribly wobbly from all the exercise.
"I ran into your writer friend in your hotel room, who was moving things from your hotel room to the lobby. Thought I'd take the rest in my car. She gave me directions, and sent me on my happy way."
Okay, so maybe he had some redeeming qualities. But she wasn't going to show that she was going to appreciate them. She followed him downstairs, and started unloading the car, pretending that the heavy boxes that were probably stretching her arms out at least ten inches were filled with feathers. "Already bought a car in the Americas? You have nowhere to put it."
"Rented. A man needs to get around..."
"...to get his business done..." she finished. "So let me guess. You finished making the widows feel bad, and decided to start on me."
"I'm a banker, Ema, not a monster."
"Says you..." she muttered, feeling the box sliding down the grip of her sweaty palms.
"Oh, let me take that," George said, exasperated with her attempts to show her independence.
Which irritated her. "No, I'll take it," and with that statement came amazing strength, which she used to haughtily transport the box indoors, up two flights of stairs and into her apartment, where she would have caved in and cried, had it not been that he was walking behind her with a box that must have been ten times lighter than hers.
She hated all her boxes. They made her feel horribly materialistic.
A few weeks later, Elly entered their now-clean apartment, with groceries. "Ema? I picked up take out," she greeted the hallways.
Ema emerged from her library, taking her reading glasses off. "Hello..."
"We got a lot of mail today. Horrendous forwarding address errors..." Elly said, gesturing to the small pile of mail she'd placed down with the items she had carried.
Ema looked at the pile, two apricot envelopes catching her eye. She took the one addressed to her as Elly continued to put away the groceries. Too excited to go get an envelope opener, she took Elly's keys, which had been carelessly placed by their owner on the counter, and proceeded to open the envelope, pretty sure of the contents.
Elly noted the change of expression of Ema's face. "Yes?"
"It's the invitation to a wedding. My cousin-in-law Charles, the one who introduced us, is getting married!"
Elly smiled. "Really? That's wonderful!" She took the envelope addressed to her, and opened it with her keys. Smiling at the names, she fingered the elegant print. "I'm so happy for them."
"The wedding is in August," Ema proceeded to the calendar they had hung up on the wall of the kitchen, and flipped forward one month, and marked the date.
"We should go on-line and pick out some good airfare deals," Elly said, frowning at the location. "The wedding is in Hertfordshire, England. It looks like we're going to have to go through a lot of crap to get there."
"I'm sure if we ask nicely, Charles and his fiancée could meet us at the airport, and if all else fails, I'm sure my father can get John and Isabelle or even George to fetch us," Ema said, turning away from the calendar. "How about leaving a week early, and checking out the lake country? Visit around? Spend some time in London, perhaps?"
"That'd be nice. I have a friend in London, whom I have not seen for quite some time..."
"Yes, and I'd like to visit with my father. The man does get lonely in his house, all on his own."
"Maybe afterwards, we can stay around as well. Let's not be in a hurry to leave England all at once..." Elly mused. "We could make this a nice summer vacation...I suppose my savings account could take another dip..."
The idea was appealing. It sounded much better than previous jaunts she'd taken in France and Italy with other people. "Sure. I think we could swing that..."
She entered the café, and smiled as her gaze fell on the table in the back, and said to the hostess, "I see my party."
"Nora," Jane kissed her on the cheek. Nora kissed Jane's cheek in return, and then smiled at Charles. "It's been too long, Charles."
"Always a delight to see you, Nora," Charles said.
Nora took her seat, and ordered a cup of Earl Grey tea. "Congratulations. I was elated when I got the invitation. We've been waiting for years to see Charles Bingley get married!"
Charles smiled, as the waitress brought the tea. "Yes, that's what William claimed."
"And I have never known a couple so well suited for each other as you two are," Nora sipped her tea. "So, details. I noticed Carolyn got her hands on the invitations," she alluded to their orange color. "Please say that she didn't get to spoil much else?"
"No, the ceremony is relatively safe." Jane laughed.
"And the world is all right once more. What a relief." Nora smiled.
"I have more happy news, though..." Charles said, mischievously. "And because one of the parties concerned is about to make his appearance, I'll quickly say it: we'll have a small Exeter reunion at my wedding; Elyse Bennet has RSVP'd. Between you, me, Elyse and William, we will have a nice cozy reunion."
Nora's eyes widened with horror and amusement. "Are you crazy? Cozy?"
"It'll be just like old times," Charles said, arm around a very confused Jane.
"That's what I'm afraid of. Granted, I miss Elyse very much, and it's been a while since I've seen her, or heard from her, but in these circumstances..."
"Ah, Darcy, you cad, you're late, as usual!" Charles quickly dropped Nora's protests.
"Good to see you," William shook hands with Charles, and kissed Jane on the cheek. "Always a pleasure, Jane. And Nora. When will you get around to writing that book you promised me?" he kissed her cheek.
Nora, still confused about the previous conversation, half-smiled to William and kissed him back.
"We were just talking about the guests at my wedding..." Charles began.
Nora watched William.
"Ah yes, what about them?" William almost frowned as he remembered their last conversation concerning guests a few weeks ago.
"Elyse Bennet has RSVP'd," Charles said, almost smugly.
"Oh really?" William asked simply. Well he was going to show Charles and Nora that they were being ridiculously concerned about this whole stupid thing. "It'll be nice to see her again," he said, smothering the sarcasm out of his voice.
"Yes, we were just saying that. It's been years since I've seen her." Nora ventured, seeing as William was not as affected as she thought he would be, perhaps to her slight disappointment.
"Where did she go to college again?" William asked politely. "She went to Cornell, right? What does she do now?"
"Dartmouth," Nora corrected. "I was the one in our group who went to Cornell. She's a romance writer now. You publish her works." She enjoyed his surprise.
"She's now rooming with my cousin-in-law, Emalyne Woodhouse," Charles supplied.
"The romance writer? We publish her works as well, right?" William said.
"Yes," Charles acknowledged.
"If Elyse is anything like she was back in high school, I imagine Emalyne Woodhouse must be of a sweet-tempered nature..." he teased Nora.
Nora would not let him insult Elly and easily quipped, "Don't be mean. Elly was a great roommate. It was only when you two were both present that I missed having Fanny Price as a roommate..."
Silence. Nora shifted in her seat, knowing she brought up the wrong memory.
Ready to forgive, and quite prepared for quips about his past association with Elly, William smiled. "Yes, perhaps Elly and I did have quite a few skirmishes..." he looked to Jane, trying to excuse his past behavior. He was sure she was bored of hearing about his interactions with a perfect stranger to her. To his surprise, she looked rather interested and amused. "But," he added to his friend, "there is much about Elyse Bennet to admire. I didn't really see them at the time, but I'm sure she was...something," he completed, helplessly.
Noticing that William was uncomfortable, Nora changed the subject. "Okay you two," she looked at Jane and Charles. "Now tell me how you met. It never occurred to me to introduce you to each other, but you know I'm not a matchmaking type. The more I think about it, though, the more it makes sense."
Glad for the transition, Jane jumped right into it. "We met through William. William and I know each other from Carnegie-Mellon, sad enough."
The table of friends laughed. "The engineering school?" Nora asked.
"We both attended an engineering school, and soon decided to not to be engineers, and to major in English. Such sentiments united us in our quest to withstand the teasing," Jane continued. "William was two years ahead of me, and therefore was very experienced in dealing with humanities major jokes. He was such a good friend to me. We dated for a while, but soon decided that wasn't really working for us, and therefore remained good friends."
"About a year ago, Jane was on assignment in London for an article, and I was to meet her for dinner. I was returning from a conference in Vienna, and the flight was already an hour late. Therefore, I sent Charles in to stand in for me, or at least keep her company until I arrived," William supplied.
"And I went, and Jane and I had a good dinner, and waited around for William, who did not make an appearance that evening, which has still been left unexplained," Charles looked to his friend for an explanation.
"I did show up, but I saw that you and Jane were already having a good time, and I remembered that I had yet to pick up a gift for Georgiana's birthday, and so decided that Jane's time would be better-employed conversing with a man who seemed so ardently in awe of her, than in spending time with an old bachelor getting on in his years..."
Jane laughed. "William, you know that isn't sound. I would have loved to talk to you."
"Sure, say that. But I'm happy with how the evening turned out." William smiled.
Nora smiled as well. "And that, my friends, is romantic. Who knew our William was such a sweetheart?"
"Don't let it get out, or my employees may not fear me as much," William quipped. "Are we going to eat or what?"
On August 9, William Darcy was sitting in his office, minding his own publishing business when his secretary forwarded a call to him from a very concerned Nora Dashwood.
"I have a favor to ask of you, and I know you won't like it. I tried getting Charles but he's not in his office..."
"What's wrong, Nora?"
"Well," she began, glad he couldn't see her smile to Charles Bingley, who was sitting across from her in her office. "My interview with Colin Firth has been mysteriously pushed off for two hours, and I can't make it to Heathrow to pick up Elly."
He scowled. She knew he was scowling.
"And I know you and Elly don't get along, but I'll be totally in your debt if you would..." she inflicted a tone of fear and little-girl innocence, which made Charles grin.
"Why does everyone think the world is going to end once Elyse Bennet and I meet again? Of course I'll pick her up. What time does the flight get in?" he said, exasperated.
"She's on flight 346 on British Airways, and it's due to land at 5:28 at Heathrow."
"I'll be there," he said, copying down the numbers.
"Thank you very much," she said.
"Yeah, what else are friends for?" he said.
"Can you take her to dinner as well?" Nora asked, trying to keep the innocence in her voice. "She'll likely be starving for good food after the flight, and I won't be around the apartment until around 9 or so tonight," she twirled the phone cord around her finger.
Well, that meant he had to cancel plans with Lydia. He was glad of having an excuse to get out of the dinner with Lady Catherine and Lydia, but not glad of the excuse itself.
"I'll see you when you drop Elly off...don't be afraid of taking your time. I'll be around any time after 9, so if you and Elly are enjoying yourselves, by all means, don't truncate the evening on my account. I have to go. See you William," she quickly hung up before she could burst out laughing.
William looked at the phone, confused, and only assumed it was some pressing business she had to attend to.
So he was going to be the one to meet Elyse Bennet at the airport. Somehow, the whole thing felt very...planned. But Nora was never that sly. No, she probably, very honestly, could not have made it to the airport to meet with Elyse. And Charles probably really was out of his office.
With that meager rationalization, William returned to looking over his figures.
The only numbers he could see were 528.
Heathrow Airport was a crowded mess. Elly struggled to keep Ema in her sight. "Ema, will you please slow down? The luggage is still going to be on the carousel, whenever we get there!"
Ema turned around. Elly looked overheated and exhausted. Ema slowed down, letting her friend catch up her.
"You may be tall and have long legs, but have pity on the rest of us..." Elly sighed.
They continued to the baggage claim, where they discovered that the luggage from their flight was not yet on the carousel.
"See?" Elly pointed out.
Ema waited impatiently. She wanted to get back to her home and rest. Her father was coming to pick her up! She didn't realize just how much she missed him until she knew he was probably outside this corridor, beyond customs. "When is Nora picking you up?"
"I told her around 5:30, which is about two hours ago," Elly said, almost upset. "I'm sure she'll understand, but..."
Ema understood perfectly. "Don't worry. Soon we'll be there. We can't change the situation, so we'll just accept it."
Ema repeated those words to herself an hour later, when she found herself in the Rolls Royce with George Knightley, instead of with her father. Her father, George said, was at home. George had insisted on taking Ema to him.
She'd parted with Elly when Elly hesitantly agreed to leave with a very handsome man who Ema assumed was very much not Nora Dashwood.
"You're rather silent," George remarked.
"I don't have anything to say to you," she replied, rather conversationally, with a smile.
He laughed, and she turned back to watching the sky turn dark, over hills.
"Beautiful isn't it?" he said.
"Yes it is. I've missed home."
"Your father has missed you very much. I visit with him often. He's not taking to the separation very kindly."
"He took it well when I went to Cambridge," she noted.
"But you came home every other weekend or so...he's not used to not having you around often."
"I suppose..." Ema said simply.
Silence.
"Am I to presume you think me selfish for wanting to enjoy my life?"
George shifted uncomfortably behind the wheel. "It's not that I think you selfish, it's just..."
"How do you suggest I solve this?" Ema's brow wrinkled into frown. "I love my father, but I also love New York, and I think I have a right to pursue my own happiness."
"You're a very happy creature, Ema. You can be happy in London..." George said.
"You've got to be joking. I went to America to get away from people in London. Would you prefer me to spend my time with birds like Carolyn Bingley? Lydia de Bourgh? I'm sure that London society would appreciate Emalyne Woodhouse's conversation, but no sir, I am sorry. I cannot."
"You've been very independent, ever since you went away to college, Ema..."
"Yes I have. Are you upset that I can correct myself now? I'm an adult now, George. I can make my own decisions."
He was going to reply, but she then turned away from him and therefore signaled the end of her contribution to the discussion.
There wasn't much to talk about.
She looked across the table at her companion.
She would have been able to reveal her true feelings of exhaustion by now and regaled the trials of the flight had it been Nora who had been waiting for her at Heathrow.
But no, when she stepped through customs with Ema, she had not seen Elinor Dashwood anywhere. A rather handsome young man approached her, and courteously said, in a beautiful British accent, "Flight ran late?"
"Yes," she replied, confused. "Where is Nora Dashwood?"
"I'm sorry, but Nora has been unavoidably detained at an interview. She asked me to come here in her stead," he took her suitcase from her hands, and carried it with ease.
She followed, not really knowing what else to say or do, "Well, um, thank you."
And now, they sat at dinner, meals to be ordered, and she got a good look at him. The brown eyes. She'd seen them. He looked so familiar. Where did she know him from? "Are you in the writing business?" she asked. "I think I've met you before."
"Yes I am. I'm a publisher," he replied, now realizing that he had not reintroduced himself to her yet, and that she had no idea who he was. Rather amused, he drank his water.
"Well?" Elyse asked.
"Well what?" he replied, lazily.
She didn't like him very much. She was not accustomed to being picked up at airports by handsome young men who took her out to nice restaurants for dinner. "I would like to know your name, at the very least. I mean, I may have subjected myself to a kidnapping. Perhaps Elinor Dashwood is back at Heathrow, worried to death about her friend. You have given me no indication whatsoever of how you know Nora, or why Nora would trust you to bring me back to her."
Still as talkative as ever. "The reasons for both are the same: I know Nora from high school."
"What a coincidence, then. We went to the same high school," Elly remarked. "Nora and I were roommates."
"Yes, I know," he smiled, taking another sip.
Stupid man. "Well?"
"Well what?"
"Who are you?"
William took another sip and swallowed slowly. "Is it that important to you?" he stalled.
She scanned her high school acquaintances. "Charles? Is that you? Because you know, this is a horrible joke, you jerk. My you've changed remarkably in the last three years."
"No, Charles is away doing some other Charles-like things."
"Richard Fitzwilliam, you always did like to tease me. I haven't seen you since our debate days."
"Not quite, but getting closer," he smiled at the waitress who approached the table. "Hello, Grace," he greeted.
"I haven't seen you since lunch, Mr. Darcy," Grace smiled.
Mr. Darcy. "William Darcy," Elly now saw the resemblance. Of course he'd be this mean.
"I'll have the house steak tonight, well done."
"And you, miss?" Grace looked to Elly, who was now glowering at the man across the table. Grace liked her. She was prettier than the other one that Mr. Darcy usually had around him.
"I'll have a cup of your soup of the day, and the fillet mignon."
"All right," Grace said, noting the orders, and leaving Mr. Darcy to his guest.
"Why didn't you tell me who you were at the airport?" she hissed.
"I was not aware that you did not recognize me."
"Well I didn't."
"As we just found out. And now you know who I am, and there are no harsh feelings between us," he smiled as Grace brought a basket of fresh rolls.
"You could have just told me, instead of goading me."
"I don't goad," he selected a roll and proceeded to butter it.
"You do too."
"You're being childish, Elyse."
Elyse opened her mouth to retort. She hated it when he did that. As if he was so much better than her. Well two could play at that game. She grabbed her own roll and buttered it with conviction.
Promptly at 9:00, a black BMW pulled up by Elinor Dashwood's townhouse, and the occupants quickly got out of the car, and unloaded the trunk, and rang the bell.
Nora Dashwood sighed and looked at Charles. They laughed. "That soon, huh?" Charles said. "9:00, right on the dot."
Nora opened the door. "William," she kissed his cheek, as he hastily brought in a suitcase. "Elyse!" she took her friend into a happy embrace. "I'm so glad you've come. I'm sorry I couldn't make it to the airport..." she said, trying to mean it.
"Yeah," Elyse grumbled.
"I hope William was a good dinner companion?"
"Yeah," she grumbled again.
"Come into the living room. I have some other guests who would love to see you."
William started to say good-byes when Nora took his arm and dragged him with her. Elly followed, rolling her eyes.
"And she has arrived at last!" Charles stood up from his seat on the couch. "Wonderful to see you again, Elly."
"I'm happy to be here," she replied, politely.
"This is Jane," he presented the woman with chocolate brown eyes and golden hair who now stood up next to him.
They made a beautiful, elegant couple. "Nice to meet you, I'm Elyse Bennet. Congratulations."
Jane smiled. "I've heard a lot of you, Elyse Bennet, from my friends."
"Well I hope it's all been good information," she laughed.
The last member of the room stood up, a very young man with impeccable taste in clothes, and very beautiful blue eyes. "I'm pleased to meet any friend of Nora's."
"I'm pleased to meet you Mr.--?"
"Ferrars, but call me Robert."
"Nice to meet you, Robert."
"Now, then," Nora entered with a tea set. "Let's hear all about your flight," she said, taking her seat by Robert.
Elly and William looked around the room, and realized that there were only two seats left, and they were on the empty loveseat.
The day had been an odd one. When she woke up that morning, she had no idea she'd meet up with William Darcy once more.
Fraught with jet lag and uneasy with the whole day's events, she simply sat at the desk, the lamp turned on, staring at a blank page.
To those who loved her, Elyse Bennet was cute.To those who didn't, she was weird.
A girl with extraordinary talent with numbers, she'd always known she'd go to the ends of the Earth to find a calc answer.
She obsessed about problems that much.
As she approached William Darcy, she knew that math might be the death of her.
Oh why must he be the only one around right now to ask? The smart senior, with good looks, might have inspired admiration, and even a crush, had it not been combined with that acerbic sarcasm that she abhorred.
But right now, the AP exam was a matter of a day away, and she needed some answers. Taking in her breath she rolled her eyes in advance. And reprimanded herself thoroughly. She was unreasonably timid around him. What right had he to scare her? Make her feel so queasy in the stomach?
She'd first met him her freshman year, in debate, and later in pre-calc. He was an impressive person. It was almost a set up for one of those sappy teen romances. He was a handsome smart junior. She'd come close to deciding that she'd like him.
But she soon found out that William Darcy was not dream material. That in reality, he was rude, blunt, and insensitive; she'd seen him make a girl cry before, just by words that seemed so innocent, but were bladelike in her heart, apparently.
Last term, they had been debate partners, and though they'd won a variety of awards together it did not improve their relations with each other.
"W-William?" she asked softly, disgustingly quiet.
William Darcy had been staring at this problem for the bulk of the afternoon. Looking up at the little clueless-looking girl, his insides curdled. He didn't like her last year, and that hadn't changed last term, and he still didn't like her.
She almost changed her mind about asking her question. But she'd already come so far. "I was wondering if you could help me with this..."
She knew that seniors like him despised her. The soph who didn't suffer through all those difficulties of high school didn't deserve calc, or AP classes in sophomore year.
He almost glared at her. He was not getting any work done. The test was tomorrow. And she wanted him to help her?
Elly met his eyes unwaveringly...outwardly, anyhow. Inside she was a mess. She felt her stomach knot up, and she almost wanted to turn around and run. Did he have to glare?
William was slightly surprised.
"It's this one..." she pointed to it.
He almost exasperatedly sighed, but looking at the girl again, he withheld it, and looked at the problem.
Sadly enough, it was the one he was stuck on. He looked up at her. A new light, for sure.
He thought he was so smart, didn't he? And here he was, stuck on the same problem that the soph was!
Elyse almost shifted uncomfortably, but cleared her throat. "I did it this way, with this substitution..."
It made so much sense!
He looked at her. That method was beautiful..."Beautiful..." he said.
"What the heck are you talking about?" she asked, almost agitated. She put her hand up to her neck and rubbed at the curve, massaging tenseness, a habit she always did when something, or someone, got to her.
"You were on the right track," he asserted, gently.
Slightly surprised at his gentle tone, she looked up, confused. "But look...I'm at a dead end here..." she gestured to where she'd integrated by parts.
"Don't integrate by parts. Separate into terms..."
She looked at it. Why hadn't she gotten it before? She smiled. "Thank you thank you! I can't believe I hadn't seen it before."
"Uh...sure..." he said, stretching out his arms, and leaning forward at the table.
She smiled, finishing the problem, putting her textbook and problem set into her backpack, and looked back at him. He was working again.
"Thank you..." she said, quietly.
He nodded, and she left.
"Did you hear William was accepted to Carnegie-Mellon?" Nora Dashwood said to her roommate one day.
Hiding her expression of disgust, she attempted to casually ask: "And is he going there?"
"He's thinking about it, but Charles is pretty sure he'll go."
Elyse slammed the desk drawer shut. "I thought he wanted to go into business..." She laughed, almost bitterly. "What, did he get denied by Harvard?"
Nora reproached her friend with a look.
Elyse quieted and looked away.
She'd do anything if she could get into Carnegie-Mellon. It wasn't Harvard, but better; the whole idea of going there, the mystic land of Engineering...
And a person like William Darcy, who was interested in business, at a scientific community? The whole idea did not make any sense! Put together with the fact that he was a mean person, and mean people sucked...every belief that everyone would get his just desserts crashed.
"Why is he going there, Nora?" she asked, almost hurt. How would reality allow such a thing to occur? "Carnegie-Mellon is a place for smart people..."
"William Darcy is a smart person."
"You know what I mean."
"No, apparently I don't..." Nora said, half-teasingly, half-seriously. The past fall term had been a nightmare at times, when Elly and William worked on their debate case and plan. They argued over everything.
"I just thought that, well...he may be smart...but he's never..."
"Sure, he's never flaunted it..."
"No, he just comes off as someone who pretends to know everything..." Elly stopped, brow crinkled, "...when he really does..."
Nora remained silent. "Carnegie-Mellon is pretty far away..." she observed, at length.
"Yeah..." Elly muttered. Good riddance, she told herself, wondering why those words didn't carry as much conviction as before. Trust William Darcy to ruin her joy in his leaving.
How did he do that?
The nerve!
"Elly...woah, woah...slow down! What's going on?" Nora asked of her roommate, and looked for the answer in her friend Charles Bingley who followed Elyse into the room. He shrugged.
"William...he...chem....ugh!" she looked at her friend, pausing, and then exasperatedly dragged out her suitcase and started to pack to go home for vacation.
Nora would never understand.
Because there was nothing wrong, right?
Why was it bugging her so?
She could still remember that moment, when working diligently on a test she knew she'd ace, she looked up, and William Darcy entered the room.
Last day of school before Christmas break, last class before being set free from the bonds of AP chem, and the horrors of junior year for a hiatus; and he chose to come!
And he totally ignored her!
Not that she was going to pretend to recognize him first.
Stupid teenage behaviors were beyond her! She pouted inside.
"Elly what's wrong?"
"Nothing..." she said, quickly pulling open a drawer of her bureau and mindlessly emptying it of its contents, and dumping them into her suitcase.
She was supposed to enjoy this holiday; Aunt Maddy and Uncle Ed were coming for Christmas from Chicago, with their kids, and after, she'd go and visit Aunt and Uncle Phillips in Washington.
And now, she'd somehow lost the joy.
"I see your will has returned..." Nora observed.
Elly paled, and looked at her friend, almost lividly. "What?" MY Will?
Nora looked confusedly at her friend, and gestured to the physics book; "You said you wouldn't do physics this holiday unless you really had the resolve..."
"Oh."
"So?"
"So what?"
"You going?"
"I don't know yet..." Elly sighed. She tossed the acceptance letter to Carnegie-Mellon aside.
"You're scared," Charles observed, surprised.
"Don't I have a right to be scared?"
"But don't you see how wonderful an opportunity it is to challenge yourself, among people like you? You've been given a gift..."
She looked at her friend. She turned away. "I'll think about it."
"El-"
"I said I'll think about it."
With that, she crumpled her absent-minded autobiographical writing and tossed it in the trash.
She'd chosen Dartmouth. She decided she didn't like numbers anymore. She wanted to major in English.
And it was surprising that despite all their scientific tendencies, they all went and became involved in the writing business.
She would never forget the day when she met up with Charles again, and he informed her that he'd taken a rather good position in William Darcy's publishing company. Apparently, William was eager to renew acquaintances with him.
Suddenly, tonight, everyone in the world seemed to be William Darcy's best friend, including Nora, Charles, and even Charles's fiancée. Even that silly waitress at the restaurant. She felt very much trapped.
It was all a happy world of Mr. Darcy, and she did not care for it. He fooled people back in high school, and he fooled people now. Including her closest friends.
"Knock knock?" He appeared at her office door with tea and scones.
"Good morning Robert!" Nora turned from her computer and smiled, as Robert sat down in the chair across the desk from her.
"And how are you on this lovely morning? Where is your guest?"
"I'm wonderful, thank you. Elly is back at my place, sleeping."
"How goes the column?"
"Nowhere. I am very much uninspired to write this morning."
He smiled. "Then do you want to come with me to lunch? My mother has invited Edward and Lucy and me to lunch, and you know I don't want to face all of them alone..." he pouted.
Nora had started shaking her head at the words "Edward and Lucy." "You know I don't like being around your brother. He makes me feel awkward. And Lucy" she shuddered.
"I don't like her very much more either. So please, come with me or I should be forced to kill myself. And I might add that Edward isn't that bad. He's just awkward with people in general."
"So he must make people more awkward than he is feel even more awkward?"
"Nora, please."
"When would we leave?"
"Hmmm..." Robert consulted his watch. "Fifteen minutes ago."
"Oh great. Your mother is going to blame me for being the one to stall our arrival, isn't she? She already doesn't like me; she thinks I'm trying to rob her cradle."
Knowing he'd won, he smiled. "Does it matter?"
"No, I suppose not," she got up and followed him out the door of her office.
"I told you. My name's Anne Elliot, I'm from Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, and I teach fluid mechanics at Carnegie-Mellon. I carry no bombs, I have no illegal substances and I didn't bring any fruit or plants with me. I packed my own suitcase and no one asked me to bring anything over. I'm here to visit England for the next two weeks to see my friend get married, and enjoy some of the country. I assure you, I will not conspire to do anything illegal, and I have already shown you my passport. I've spent the last few hours looking for my lost luggage, and now I have it. You see it before you. Can I go now?"
"But, just a second, let me check that last bag..."
Annie sighed.
Author's Note: Punting is a pasttime they have in Oxford and Cambridge, in which 3-4 people get in a boat (on the Cam (or the Thames if it's Oxford)) and one person uses a pole to push them down the river, like a Gondala. Margaret D told me about this, and I think it's funny, and therefore, I had to include a punting scene. for all you Edward fans, it's only a part away! yay!
"Surely, Annie should have arrived by now."
"Don't worry, Jane. Everything works out. She'll be here. I'm sure the flight was delayed or something happened to delay her."
Standing at the waiting area, Jane started to pace.
"Jane dear, stop pacing, you'll make me go dizzy. She'll be here when she gets here," William sighed.
"There she is!" Jane smiled.
"Finally," William rolled his eyes, following Jane.
"Where have you been? What happened?" Jane said, hugging Annie Eliot.
"Customs," she said, and threw herself into William's arms. "There you are, I was hoping you'd get around to meeting with an old friend..."
"Always time for you, Annie," he said, taking her bag. And a much better meeting at Heathrow as compared to the one a few days ago.
He hadn't seen Elyse Bennet for quite some time now. She'd gotten in two days ago, and mysteriously disappeared in the corners of Nora's townhouse, apparently.
Not that he noticed or anything.
She had changed. Surely, if he didn't know to look for her at the airport, he wouldn't have recognized her at all. Sparkling eyes, and a smile that was already pretty back in high school. Somehow, they remained the same, but affected him differently. And that cute little way she thought he was Charles. Ok, so Elyse was pretty. She was always pretty. It didn't matter, and didn't change anything.
"What's up with him?" Annie asked Jane, noting the odd look in William's eyes.
"He's daydreaming about a girl," she winked.
"A girl?" Annie was impressed. "I want details, but first I want food and a nap."
She missed Elly horribly.
Raking through the dirt absently, she tried to fathom how she ever stayed here, content, before.
There was nothing to do. Nothing to see. No one to see.
"Hello Ema."
Except, of course, George. "Hello George."
"What are you doing?"
"I'm gardening. Father is keeping the flowers in horrible condition."
He looked at the woman at his feet, in jean shorts and a T-shirt. The future Lady of Hartfield, with a smudge of dirt on her nose.
How adorable. He contemptuously thought. Better adorable than anything else: he reproved himself for looking at her legs appreciatively. She was doing it all for show. Just doing it to show him how different she was.
If she truly enjoyed being among those pretty red flowers, her golden hair lively and glossy in the sunlight...
"Why are you here, George?"
"Lack of a better thing to do?" he provided. "Out of ideas to entertain myself? Or perhaps I'm here to pick you up for dinner. The one we're supposed to be meeting the others for tonight, that will begin in about half an hour?"
Ema frowned. "Tonight? What day is today?"
"Today is Friday..."
"And we're supposed to meet with some of Charles and Jane's friends tonight," she remembered. She stood. "Well, all right. I'll go up and shower. We'll be slightly late, but I expect that more than one or two of the guests will be late anyhow."
"Don't take too long," he said, knowing that such a request was futile.
He was thus surprised, when in twenty minutes, Emalyne Woodhouse came down the stairs, and joined him and her father in the living room. She was nicely dressed in a white sundress, her hair pulled back with a bright blue scarf.
"So are we going or not?"
"Um...of course," George said, standing up.
"Honey, you're not thinking about me, are you?" Lydia pouted.
William turned to his dinner date. "What?"
"You look very frustrated at something or someone. And I certainly hope it's not me."
"Of course," he said, absent-mindedly. He couldn't get Elyse Bennet out of his head. It was making him quite mad.
"So who are we meeting for dinner again?"
"A collection of old friends," he replied. "My friend Charles Bingley is getting married."
He had regretted asking Lydia to come with him tonight immediately after he had hung up the phone.
He had been determined to show up alone before, as he could not find a good dinner companion, but some time mid afternoon, he'd decided he needed a date.
Perhaps it was after he'd heard Charles talking on the phone with Frederick Wentworth about Elyse Bennet, and asking him if he wouldn't mind being seated next to her at dinner tonight.
And again, the woman haunted him. A woman who, just a few days ago, was part of a sea of faces in his memory, not very remarkable save the fact that he didn't like her. But that was that. It didn't matter that he didn't like her, because he didn't see her.
But now, he had.
The party assembled half an hour after the appointed time at the Netherfield mansion.
One guest was still missing.
In the past half hour, Nora noted that Jane, Annie, and William were close friends. The girl William brought with him did not care about anything save keeping her arm attached to his. Charles and Elly conversed easily with Edward Ferrars, who was looking at Nora too much for comfort. Lucy was currently in deep conversation with Carolyn, probably about weddings. Carolyn was dateless, which probably irked her, but she was comforted by the fact that Annie Eliot was also dateless.
A couple she had thought were the Knightleys arrived about five minutes ago and joined the group by Charles and Elly, Elly kissing Mrs. Knightley on the cheek. As it turned out, she was mistaken about the couple, and soon corrected of the notion as she was introduced to Emalyne Woodhouse and George Knightley, who were certainly not together.
Robert currently joined them in conversation.
And Nora? Nora was currently standing by Robert, avoiding Edward Ferrars's gaze. By moving between parties, she'd managed to get a good workout in the last ten minutes.
He agreed because he didn't want to be Carolyn's dinner partner again.
Stupid Heathrow. He was late. Stupid customs.
Hesitantly, he got out of his car, and rang the bell.
"That must be Frederick!" Carolyn remarked.
"Frederick?" Annie turned to Jane.
"Charles's friend from Oxford, Frederick Wentworth, who Carolyn is absolutely wild about, and who is absolutely wild about avoiding Carolyn. It was funny, this afternoon, Charles managed to get Frederick to come, and make William insanely jealous..." Jane started to say, but realized her friend was not paying attention.
William was now chatting with Charles, and avoiding the eyes of Elyse Bennet, who was just as ardently avoiding his.
When he showed up with that Lydia woman, she was...affected. She'd always imagined William to date someone of more...well...substance. But, she huffed, it was only proof that he was certainly not anyone worth real admiration.
The newest guest entered the room and greeted Charles.
"I'm sorry, the customs officers at Heathrow are abominable," he smiled.
That toothpaste smile she always did admire, Annie thought, bitterly.
There was no way that Charles and Jane could have known, she started to make excuses.
"Frederick, I'd like you to meet my friends..."
Frederick was not paying attention, however. His eyes were fixed on the woman in the fitted purple silk shirt and black skirt, standing at the opposite of the room.
"Frederick?"
He turned, and put her out of his thoughts automatically. "Yes?" he said, more stiffly. "Sorry, it's been a long day. I'm slightly out of it. I'm seeing things."
No, it really was Annie Eliot he had seen, and he allowed himself to be reintroduced to her, though he made it clear it was not a pleasure.
And unfortunately for his dinner partner Elyse Bennet, he was uncharacteristically reticent during dinner. Or perhaps it was fortunate, for she herself was not particularly conversational either.
But William Darcy's date was.
Oh why did that couple have to be seated across from them?
William refused to look at her all evening.
It wasn't that she tried to notice or anything. It was just so obvious that he wasn't looking at her he must have wanted her to at least see that he was doing it.
She turned and smiled at Wentworth, and hesitantly began with a droll remark on airport customs.
The Cam was sparkling in the Saturday morning sunshine, and the three men enjoyed the early morning weather, punting and regaling their college days.
Frederick was currently with the pole, and leisurely guiding their boat down the river.
"I didn't know you were so close to Ema Woodhouse," Charles began casually on George Knightley. George Knightley, who was the wise experienced senior to mentor the two helpless freshmen their first year at Oxford.
"She's my sister-in-law, and we're fairly close. I watched her grow up," he smiled, remembering when she used to be so dependent upon him, when she used to ask him of his opinion so much he used to send her away and tell her she could make her own choices.
"She's a stunner..." Frederick remarked. "It's no wonder he kept her a secret."
"Perhaps. She wasn't particularly important to talk about. She was just someone I knew. She's the same age as you. As an overprotective brother, I think I was perfectly right in hiding her away from men like you."
Charles laughed, "You just wanted her for yourself."
"Quite honestly, Charles, no, it never crossed my mind. She was always, and still is, very young. Ema never grows up." And it is better that way. "Besides, you're taken care of; you met Jane. And Freddie there, well, he didn't care much for relationships in college..."
"Why is that, Freddie?" Charles turned to his friend. "There certainly wasn't a lack of opportunities for you."
"I don't know. Wasn't particularly interested in something as artificial..."
"Surely, you dated in high school..." Charles badgered his friend.
"Perhaps, but if I did, it's of so little importance to me that I've quite forgotten it," he said, closing the subject quickly.
The rehearsal dragged on for quite some time. Annie sighed. She was tired. It was a Saturday afternoon, a beautiful one at that, and she wanted to be outside, and not walking down the aisle for the tenth time this afternoon. She turned around and met eyes with Nora Dashwood.
"Maid of Honor, stand here," the wedding coordinator gestured.
She knew, she'd heard it all afternoon. She should know by now.
"Bridesmaid..." the wedding coordinator said to Nora. Nora smiled courteously, but showed her look of exasperation to Annie.
Across the aisle, William Darcy, best man, yawned.
No one really wanted to be here.
Not even Jane, who was currently walking down the aisle with less energy than she had been before.
And certainly not Charles, who was now checking his watch.
Annie sighed. Would it be over already?
She wasn't particularly happy to see Frederick Wentworth yesterday night. It had caught her by surprise, and she couldn't help but fluster. It'd been quite some time since seeing him.
And she knew that her heart pounded as much as it ever did when she saw his picture in some business magazine her father had carelessly thrown aside. She'd followed his progress over the years, to her mortification, like a woman frantic for news of him.
Silly Annie, she reprimanded herself.
It had been hard the first year at Carnegie-Mellon. If it hadn't been for Jane, and later William, she never would have moved on and started dating again.
She hadn't found anyone as interesting as Frederick, but she also knew that the Frederick she had known was not who he was now.
She'd trained herself to dislike him for leaving her, but later learned to train that hurt and anger she'd felt towards him to pity.
But when she saw him again, pity, anger, and hurt all dissolved away, as she felt only one emotion: love.
Love Frederick Wentworth? It had been ten years since he'd walked out on her, and he'd obviously moved on to make himself quite a person.
One who probably didn't want to remember Annie Eliot, or any sign of his previous life.
He had moved on. And she had too.
I shall conquer this, I shall.