Heavenly Blue

Posted on Friday, 11 February 2005

He squinted at her, squinted at her perfectly lipsticked, bright magenta, and rather pouty lips forming words, words that, try as he might, he could not understand.

His ears were not working this evening for he could not comprehend one word she spoke. Her conversation, or rather, her monologue, seemed to be a mere, faint buzz in his ears, and it was to his horror that he could not distinguish one word from another.

So he relied on his eyes, and he read her lips to the best of his ability (an ability, he was man enough to admit, sadly lacking) and understood enough to nod and "mmm-hmm" when she expected him to.

She did not expect him to reply with words in any way, nor did she pause long enough to give him an opportunity.

She was a Talker.

No.

She was a Rambler. Ramblers had not the eloquence Talkers possessed. And she was a Rambler of unsurpassed skill, because she would not shut UP!

He could not believe how he had managed to entangle himself in such a situation. He knew perfectly well how it had all occurred, but the credibility of it had yet to seize him.

"Wills!" The disgustingly cheerful and nauseatingly bright voice emanating from the telephone (he was on speaker) caused him to grimace.

He despised being called Wills.

"Hello, Chip," he replied mildly.

"You'll never guess who I ran into today!" There was something extra-eager to Charlie's voice. "Oh, hang it all! You'll never guess, so I'll just tell you. I met Jane! Sweet, darling Jane!"

Ah yes always Jane or Miranda, or Julie, or Emily, or Anna, or whoever happened to catch Charlie's fancy at some point in time.

So, it was Jane this time?

"Indeed?" He asked, his tone curiously indifferent and lacking a great deal of enthusiasm. He knew what such a question entailed, and he dreaded asking, for Charlie would, at this point, with a vast deal of sincerity, though not very eloquently, begin to wax poetic analogies of how so-and-so's hair was like pure gold or dazzling sunshine, or how her eyes was like the blue of a summer sky.

It was always a blue-eyed blonde of angelic temperament.

Always.

Except in the case of Miranda, who was actually a green-eyed redhead for half of the relationship, before she dyed her hair platinum blond.

A nightmarish incident that still sent shivers down his spine.

And that was before she got contacts.

Charlie had that effect on people. He had a way of persuasion, all the while smiling.

Amiably.

Charlie did everything amiably.

Except when he did things affably.

And that was during the Miranda fiasco.

But Miranda had been during the freshman year at Cambridge (for Charlie, Will had been a junior), a year during which Charlie had been so completely overwhelmed (by life, and freedom and freshmen terrors) that he had not made wise choices.

It was the Dark Ages for Charlie.

"…and she's so sweet, and, when she laughs, it's like my heart just can't take all that joy!"

People in love were ridiculous. Ridiculous and disgusting.

"And she's this wonderful angel, Wills"

He was going to have to strangle that boy one of these days. Wills, indeed

"…when she smiles, her whole face just glows, and then I have to smile too, because her happiness is just so contagious…"

William fiddled idly with a Post-It notepad. To think that people actually were paid for coming up with these names ­Post It-how original.

How did they manage to get the sticky stuff on the back, though?

Lord, he needed to get a life!

"…and I'm inviting her over tonight. To cook. She's this amazing, gourmet cook; superb, I tell you, and you know how I just got my kitchen,"

More like kitchenette…

"…remodeled, and so Janie's coming over, and she's bought all this food, and I mean real food. Not just McDonald's and beer, but actually veggies and stuff. Like broccoli…"

William hated broccoli.

And Brussel sprouts. And spinach. Celery. Carrots. Beets. Turnips.

They reminded him of his Aunt Catherine. And Aunt Catherine was never the object of pleasant reminiscences.

She was an iron-willed, iron-fisted (though not very ironic or irony appreciating) vegetarian. With a strident voice and (what Will imagined to be) dictator-aspirations.

William was a carnivore. A through-and-through carnivore.

Though, actually, he could live with lettuce.

And he liked fruits.

Especially cherries.

Nice, dark, ripe, sweet cherries.

Mmm…

"…but Janie thinks that the tomato is a vegetable, which it is, but culinary definitions. However, I believe that it is a fruit, which it also is, by biological definitions…"

Will liked cucumbers better than tomatoes.

Charlie was certainly a cucumber. Cool, laid back, easy going, placid…

Like a cow.

Georgiana, now, she was a peach. All warm and fuzzy.

And his cousin Anne was an asparagus. Definitely not something one went out of their way to get in the grocery store of life.

Not to reflect badly on her, of course.

"…But the problem is that I've to get Caroline out of the house…you know Caroline,"

God, what he wouldn't do not to know her.

"Umm…would you take her out to dinner tonight?"

No. No. No. No a thousand times.

Never.

He'd go kiss a baboon first.

Though, admittedly, baboons were higher up the evolutionary ladder than Caroline.

Charlie was crazy. Raving mad.

Take Caroline out to dinner?

Preposterous!

"Er…I suppose I could, provided you don't get any romantic notions into her head. When should I come by to pick her up?"

Oy. The things he did for a friend.

And so, he was stuck in this awfully posh and expensive restaurant, squinting at Caroline Bingley's pinkish-magenta lips.

Was life always this cruel?

Part 2

Posted on Tuesday, 22 February 2005

She was young. She was successful. She was gorgeous. She was smart, classy, elegant, refined, graceful, witty, confident, smooth, poised, and a Cambridge graduate. She was going places.

She was on the worst date of her life.

And that was saying a lot.

Why, oh why, was she here?

Oh, yes.

Jane.

Sweet, dependable Jane, who had agreed to show an old acquaintance around town, only to realize that she had a date on the same night. And so, her little sister had been bulldozed into taking her place.

Jane certainly knew some odd people, judging by this character, who had introduced himself cheesily as, "Collin, Billy Collins," complete with an eyebrow waggle. Did he not realize that the James Bond approach only worked for guys with cool-sounding names?

Guys who had the "dreamy" British accent, not the "wild moors of Yorkshire, I was dropped on my head when I was a baby" accents? Guys who were not easily distracted by bright objects and bits of yarn?

Guys with at least some resemblance to a brain?

This Collins fellow-- Ugh.

Well, he certainly could talk.

She did not admire talkative men.

Men were more attractive when they had the "tall (Billy was a towering 5'2"), dark, and handsome" or the "dark, silent, and brooding" thing working for them. Preferably both.

She idly contemplated the idea of strangling the pathetic twit, but then decided that it was too direct an approach.

And it simply was not the Bennet way.

"Blah, blah, blah, blah," 8:03.

Tick tock, tick tock, the mouse ran up the clock. 8:04.

"Yada, yada, yada," How long did a person have to stay on a date to be polite? Did dating decorum really even apply to slobbering, mangy idiots?

Hang it all, she was the one paying!

"…handbag was simply darling, I told…" Gah! No, no! Block him out!

"Blah, blah, blah," Ah, much better, Her eyes, like her mind, drifted around the restaurant, and finally settled on a potted plant hidden in a shadowy corner. It was a flowering shrub, and, lacking anything else to occupy herself with, she began to count the blossoms.

Though, actually, should she count the wilted ones and the buds?

A flash of orange caught her eye, as she contemplated this dilemma, and it was immediately followed by a loud peal of laughter.

A woman sat with her back to Elizabeth, revealing a hideously indecent amount of skin.

That was a dress?

The orange lady's dinner companion sat across from her, thus affording Elizabeth an unblocked view of his features. Lord, what a drool worthy, fine specimen! But he did not look very happy. He looked bored out of his mind, dying from tedium, and rather cross with the whole world in general. That somewhat marred his handsome, classical features, but only to a negligible degree.

Which was actually so little that it did not matter.

Was it bad to admire another man while on a date?

Exceptions could be made of "Collins, Billy Collins." A quite glance showed that the odious, nauseating object of her eternal disgust was still perfectly content to ramble on unceasingly, so she focused her attentions back on the dark Adonis.

He had magnificently handsome, regal features, and she wondered for a moment if he was more of a Narcissus than an Adonis. There was no denying what an incredibly attractive man he was, being tall (if his long legs sprawled under the table were any indication)--well above average--and rather on the lean side, but he had broad shoulders, and his well-toned forearms spoke of a muscular, well-built body (she nearly glanced down at her feet to check in a puddle of drool had formed.) His dark, wavy hair was definitely unruly, and a wisp or two fell into his eyes, lending him a dashing, debonair air; his mouth was clearly cut and finely drawn, his chin firm, and his jaw set, all of which spoke of a determined (or obstinate) sort of character used to getting his own way. He had an aristocratic, somewhat aquiline, nose, and his eyes! They were of a dark amber-golden color (what might be described as brown in plainer folk, but for this man, it was amber-golden), but the expression of said (and much lauded) eyes were indecipherable, for he had heavy eyelids which veiled all emotion, and his eyes remained impassive.

Elizabeth, however, being far too away, noticed nothing of the eyes or the eyebrows, but that the latter began to droop, and then was jerked up, and began to droop again, until they finally closed shut.

He had fallen asleep.

A wave of indignation for the lady in orange first swept over Elizabeth, but then she caught sight of her own dinner companion.

Some actions, however uncivil, had to be sympathized.

And envied.

The orange lady, however, seemed to not notice her partner's sudden descent into the arms of Morpheus, for she continued to talk in an animated fashion, waving her butter knife in a somewhat excited--and extremely stupid--manner. The man suddenly started, jerking his eyes open, having been startled awake by the clatter of some silverware. His eyes glanced around, as if checking to make sure no one had noticed his faux pas.

He caught Elizabeth's eye. She smiled faintly, sardonically, amusedly at him, and he, tentatively and discreetly, but with a good deal of charm and a certain air of conspiracy, grinned back.

Winking.

He had winked at her!

She mustn't read too much into it. She liked him, to be sure, but in a purely aesthetic sense, in appreciation for his good looks.

In appreciation.

Like art.

After all, nobody fell in love with paintings or portraits. Well, some people did, but they were ODD! She certainly didn't. Art for art's sake. Aesthetics. Appreciation for beauty. Right.

In the same manner, lack of appreciation for glaringly bald crown of Collins.

Were most men partially bald by age twenty-six?

She could not help but smugly fondle her own luxuriant, dark tresses.

Vanity. Not good.

But she did so like to silently gloat. Over Collins.

8:12.

Tick tock!

Part 3

Posted on Monday, 7 March 2005

"WHY do you insist on being so difficult?" Charles Bingley, cocker spaniel resembling, blonde, and happy-go-lucky-I-still-believe-in-the-toothfairy-I'm-so-naive-and-innocent-two-concepts-which-are-not-to-be-confused-with-stupidity, glared for all he was worth.

William Darcy lounged idly on a couch, his long legs sprawled off the end, and inspected a cookie, counting the chocolate chips.

"Why? Why?" Charlie paced the room angrily, stomping his foot for emphasis. "WHY?"

"You sound like Hamlet," Will observed tranquilly, and decided to tell Mrs. Reynolds to be a bit more liberal with the chocolates in the future. The main attraction of chocolate chip cookies was, after all, the chocolates, not the actual cookie. The cookie was just filler.

"What?"

"Mmm-hmm," Will bit into the soft dough, and sighed in disappointment. Ugh. Mrs. Reynolds was on one of her dietary campaigns again. No sugar. Yuck.

Did the woman not understand that the sugar was almost as vital as the chocolate?

It was all a matter of principles!

"Yes. Hamlet, storming around, bemoaning 'why, why' in that tragic voice, though, in his case, he did have a plausible reason...I'm not quite so sure I'd like it if my mother decided to go on some wild, romantic fling with my uncle."

"That's not what the play is about."

"No, you're quite right. The play is about the utter tragedy that is life, and how everyone dies in the end. Except for the people you hate." William blinked, and cocked his head to one side speculatively. "My, that was profound. I ought to write a book on that. It'll be a fabulous success, should I ever decide to publish it."

"You're starting to sound like your Aunt Catherine."

There was a loud crash as William fell off the couch in a flurry of arms and legs and cookies. He emerged, wild-eyed and dumbfounded.

"WHAT?!?! Good God, Chip, you nearly gave me a coronary there! Aunt Catherine?!"William shuddered in horror. "My day is wrecked now. You realize you could have possibly just scarred me for life?

He settled back onto the couch with another sigh, and shook his head. "But I don't want to dwell on that anymore...ever. Where was I before you're lovely little comparison?"

"Hamlet."

"Oh..." William squinted at Charlie. "Though, actually, with a vast amount of hair dye, you could even pass off as Heathcliff."

"Who's Heathcliff?"

William looked aghast. "Who's Heathcliff?" He echoed. "Your mother the English teacher would be horrified, Chip. Heathcliff of Wuthering Heights. Heathcliff who goes around banging his head against trees and crying 'Catherine, Catherine' much in the manner as you just did with 'why, why?'" William chuckled. "Oh...but you'd never be Heathcliff, though. You're far too cheerful, Chip. Far too happy, actually. Far too much of a happy, cheerful person."

"If you're quite finished..." Charlie huffed.

"Yes, yes. Proceed. I believe you were expostulating in length of how difficult a person I am. Would you care to elaborate further?"

"Where, exactly, did you take Caroline yesterday?"

"Hmm...here and there," William answered vaguely.

Charlie scoffed. "Here and there...here and there? My sister was stuck in the hospital, and--"

"I'd hardly call it being 'stuck.' They wanted her to stay for observation purposes. She's going to be released in a few hours."

Charlie collapsed in a chair, giving a despairing little sigh. "Will, be honest with me...what precisely happened yesterday?"

"What happened? Well, that covers a lot. Let me see...you and Jane went off on another date. You bullied and wheedled me into getting bloody Caroline off your hands. Me, being your friend, and an awfully good one at that, whisked her away, and we went to see fish."

"You took her to the aquarium?" Charlie asked slowly. He was beginning to wonder if Will knew anything about how the complex infrastructure known as the female mind worked. No one--no one--took females to the aquarium for wooing purposes.

Though perhaps Will wasn't exactly keen on wooing Caroline...

"No," William looked as if he thought such a question was too stupid for utterance, "Of course not. We passed a pond on our way through the park to the zoo."

"You took her to the zoo?" Charlie looked immensely horrified.

William smiled angelically. "oh, yes. Fabulous time we had."

"B-but Caroline's allergic to certain animals! Really, really allergic!"

"Indeed?" Will asked blandly. "I couldn't tell from the way her face just bloated up! I assumed it was an everyday occurrence. After all, she made no objections when I suggested going. Said she adored sheep," Will glared witheringly at Charlie. "I'm not stupid. They don't keep sheep in zoos."

"But..." Charlie faltered for a moment. "You didn't know?"

"To a certain degree...I suspected perhaps...well, I didn't r realize she was that allergic. I thought she'd end up a little sneezy, and maybe she wouldn't talk so much." Maybe break her nose sneezing and not talk at all...forever...

"You knew?"

"No," Will snapped, "I suspected! Besides, why's it my bloody fault? She didn't object!"

Charlie sighed despairingly. "Of course Caroline wouldn't object. She'd hurl herself off a cliff if you thought it advisable!"

"I'm not Caroline's keeper! I'm not responsible for her! She's twenty-six! You think she'd be able to look after herself! You told me to get her out of the house while you and Jane engaged in certain questionable activities! I am tired of 'entertaining Caroline!' I have a life! Granted, it's not much of a life, but it's better than amusing that yeti of a sister of yours!" Will glowered. "Listen to me, Chip. You're loaded. Go get a babysitter."

"B-but you're the only one she listens to!"

"GAH!"

"Do you want to go see her? The hospital's releasing her in...a while."

William regarded Charlie for a moment, suspicion on his face, and remarked in a sinisterly pleasant voice that sent shivers down Charlie's spine, "Why, that's just so darling, so peachy. You know, if I didn't know better, I could swear that you're trying to set me up...."

Charlie looked aghast. "Good Lord, no! No...."

Will smiled blandly. "Good, good..."

A pause.

"So...you want to go see her?"

"No."

"That's not very nice of you."

"No, it's not."

"I think that we should go see her."

"I think we shouldn't."

"I think we should. With Jane."

Will, who had stood up, collapsed back onto the couch with a groan, his head held between his hands. "You moron."

Charlie blithely ignored him. "Are you coming?"

"No."

"Oh, well...Your loss," Charlie shrugged. "Could I use your phone?"

"You're Jane-obsessed."

"I'm in love," Charlie answered, a vague, daft expression springing into his eyes.

"Love?" Will snapped his head up. Charlie had only been in love once before, and that was with his rock garden when he was four. This was serious, if it concerned a girl. "Real love? True love?"

"Yes."

"True Love, with capital letters? For always and for eternity, I'll be at your side, won't let you go, through health and sickness, for better or for worse, yada yada yada kind of love?"

Charlie frowned. "Where'd marriage come into play?"

"I'm not sure," William shrugged. "But answer the question. Are you in that sort of love?"

"Yes..."

There was a loud peal of laughter, and William, for the umpteenth time that day, collapsed. "Ha ha ha ha! You're in love! Oh that's rich! Ha ha ha ha ha!"

Charlie huffed angrily. "What are you talking about?"

"You're in deep, aren't you?"

"Man, shut up! I'm in love!"

William, with a final few chuckles, sobered up. "I'm sorry, Chip. It's just...you've never been in love before. And-and...ha ha ha ha... you're in love!" He finished up as if that explained all.

"What's you're problem with being in love?"

"Problem? I don't have a problem. I just think it's ridiculous."

"Oh?" Charlie seemed highly offended. "Love? Ridiculous? So...do you think I'm also ridiculous?"

"No...why would I think that? It's just love!" William protested. "What is love, Chip?"

"Absolute bliss?" Charlie offered.

"A few chemical reactions taking place inside you're brain; a reaction that causes you to lose a few billion brain cells and suddenly, you're this absolute, dithering, slobbering idiot who can no longer function..."

"That's not true!"

"Do you dither when Jane turns on that smile of hers?"

"Y-es...."

"And do you slobber when she is looking gorgeous?"

"Y-e-s...but who doesn't slobber over a gorgeous woman?"

"That's not the point. You dither and you slobber and, as far as I'm concerned, you're a Jane-aholic, which turns you into an idiot for ever allowing that to happen..."

"You don't cherish very positive notions of love, do you?"

William sat on the couch, his fingers busy crumbling a cookie into bits, and suddenly smiled angelically. "No. No, I don't."

Chapter 4

Posted on Thursday, 7 April 2005

"And for Heaven's sake, don't bring George!"

Elizabeth sat calmly on the couch, hugging a pillow, and watched in silent amusement as her normally placid sister blew about the room in a cleaning frenzy. "Why ever not?"

Jane stood with her hands akimbo, and glared down at her little sibling. "Lizzy! You're a physics major going for her PhD. at Cambridge! Must you hang around a man who still enjoys squirting orange juice out of his nose?"

"Well, no, and, I admit, it is quite disgusting," Lizzy frowned doubtfully, "but George is fun..."

"George Wickham is immature!" Jane bit out angrily.

"Granted, George Wickham has the mental capacity of a goldfish," Lizzy acknowledged, "But I rather like goldfishes."

Jane glowered and then spritzed the air with an unhealthy dose of Febreeze.

Lizzy coughed, fanning the air in front of her with a hand. "Geez, Jane, we're going out. Why do you have to ruin our perfectly wonderful pigsty of an apartment?"

"Because it has to be clean! I never realized before what utter filth we live in! Look at those dishes!"

Lizzy squinted at the dishes piled up, waiting to be washed. "So we're a little behind. Big whoop. It's only two days...we went like that for two weeks before."

Jane grabbed a Lysol from a counter lined with an impressive display of cleaning products, and attacked the dishes with a gusto.

"Uh...Janie? Are we supposed to use Lysol on dishes?"

"Yes!" Jane boomed out.

Lizzy cocked her head, a look of mild alarm and intense consternation spreading across her face. "Jane? Perhaps we should use paper plates from now on?"

"No!" Jane whirled around. "China is pretty. China is wonderful....No plastics."

"Whom are we exactly going out with?" Lizzy paused. "Let me rephrase that...Exactly with whom am I going to be spending the night when you and Charlie ditch us?"

"We never ditch you!" Jane replied indignantly, and Elizabeth leveled her with and unimpressed look, "...and...um...Will Darcy."

"Oh?"

"Charlie's best friend. A business genius. Even Charlie was wowed by his business acumen."

Elizabeth smiled, if a bit condescendingly. "Darling, Charlie's wowed by everything. Charlie was wowed when George stuck a ping-pong paddle into his own mouth." She paused and frowned, considering what she had just said. "Um...stuck the ping-pong paddle into George's mouth...Charlie did not have anything stuck into his mouth...though he did ask George to show him how to do it..."

Jane huffed. "Again. Don't bring George!"

"Oh, I've no intention of doing so. Proceed."

"Umm...I've never actually met him. Charlie says he's the tall, dark, silent, brooding type."

"Really?" Lizzy's perfectly sculpted lips curled into a self-satisfied smile.

"Mmm...Um...MBA from Cambridge. Little bit aloof, very taciturn, reticent type."

"Oh..." There went all her hopes for conversation that evening. Silent, brooding types of men were all nice and good, but...taciturn and reticent types were a bit overboard. Talking to them was like talking to a brick wall, since one got about just as much response.

"Charlie tells me he's been taking Caroline out for quite some time now..."

"Oh?" The disgust was audible in Lizzy's voice. What kind of a man would take--of all people--Caroline Bingley out to dinner?

Jane held out a Windex to Lizzy. "Enough about him. Would you mind cleaning the windows a bit?"

"Janie. It's November. It's freezing. You are out of your mind. No one cleans windows in November!"

"Lizzy..."

"Besides, when did our flat have to resemble anything along the lines of Martha Stewart?" She paused. "Never mind that she's in jail now, but...Come and sit by me, Jane, and tell me more of this Darcy fellow..."

"I swear, Bingley, if I ever find out that you are trying to set me up, I will wring your miserable neck, and I will take an insane amount of delight in doing so..." Will scowled darkly, his tone threateningly homicidal. He really could not understand where Charlie got these ridiculous notions that he needed to be set up with someone. It wasn't even as if he showed up every Thursday morning at one a.m., pounding at Charlie's door, bewailing his total lack of a love life, brandishing a brandy bottle. (That was what Charlie did, back in the university days.) In fact, he never even talked to Charlie about his love life. Ever. He didn't have to talk about his love life because--other than the blatantly obvious fact that there was none existing to talk of--he didn't really care about his love life. He honestly could not understand why Charlie was constantly jabbering on about the importance of finding a soul mate...

Will Darcy was content with his current life. He had a good--and insanely lucrative--job, good house, good friends, good connections, an angel for a sister, a culinary genius for a housekeeper who also doubled as a cook (and dietician...), and a cousin who he could still shove into the mud every now and then when the mood seized him. He did not need a girlfriend, or a fiancée, or a--God forbid--wife. Relationships with women were always either strictly business, or distantly platonic. And he was happy with that arrangement. He had yet to stumble across any who inspired more...romantic feelings.

Excepting that smoldering-eyed, dark beauty the other night, of course....but who was she? An anonymous woman he had winked at...tchah!

"Of course I'm not setting you up!" Charlie answered lightly. "Though if I actually were, Elizabeth would be your type..."

William glanced at Charlie, unimpressed, and curled his lip in a disdainful smile.

"Will...please. Be nice."

"I'm not some five-year-old who needs to be constantly reminded of how to be civil!" William huffed angrily. "What is with you and the idea that I'm totally inept when it comes to taking care of myself? I do know how to function socially..."

"You know how to function...yes...how to function well...no..."

William glared venomously.

"Oh, honestly, Will! Who has both Machiavelli and Milton sitting on their bookcase? Who enjoys Paradise Lost?"

"I do..."

William was looking a tad bit too belligerent for comfort, but Charlie blithely ignored it all, and exclaimed triumphantly, "My point exactly!"

"What point?"

"I've yet to figure that out, but it is a fact that no one enjoys Paradise Lost. Ever."

"You're crazy."

"Be nice."

"Shut up."

A tense silence.

"Ah! And here we are!" Charlie turned to Will. "Now, I'll say this one last time. Be nice."

"I'm a very nice person," Will sniffed disdainfully.

Charlie smiled gently, then said, "No, Will, you're not a very nice person."

"Pfft--"

"Will, you tend to be cynical and antisocial. And intimidating. And rude. And prone to strangling certain cousins to prove a point--" Charlie held open the door, and they began climbing up the stairs.

"We were conducting a scientific experiment!" Sort of....

"Yeah, right..."

"And I most certainly am not rude. I'll have you know that my manners are impeccable! And I don't understand how you get off thinking that I'm intimidating."

"You had a fifty-six-year-old man in tears today."

"He doesn't count. That was purely business," Will replied dismissively.

"Will. Listen to me. If you can scare the CEO of a large company to the point of bawling his eyes out, how scary are you?"

"I am going to assume that the question was rhetorical. Besides which, he was a wussy."

"And you are six feet three."

"I was sitting down the entire meeting," William said proudly.

"Did I happen to mention what a lethal glare you have?"

"No...but that's quite all right." He paused thoughtfully for a moment. "I inherited it from my father, you know."

"Your father was a scary man, Will. I always got chills down my back whenever he talked to me."

Will threw his hands up exasperatedly. "For the last time, Chip, I don't find myself intimidating!"

They rounded a corner.

"Of course not. Who finds themselves intimidating?"

"My uncle does not find me intimidating."

"Your uncle is roughly the size of a barge."

"Mrs. Reynolds--"

"--Still carries a mental picture of you when you were four around with her. She probably would not find you intimidating."

"Georgiana and Richard--"

"--Are family."

"You."

"I'm immune," Charlie grinned, and held up a hand to knock, but Will suddenly seized his arm.

"Wait. Listen."

A woman's voice penetrated the door.

"He's probably this great big freak show, for all I know--"

"What?" Another woman's voice, recognized as Jane's.

"Who goes out with Caroline? Who falls in love with Caroline?"

"I don't know. But you can't be sure that he's in love with Caroline...I mean, when I asked Charlie why Caroline was never around when I went over, he assured me that she was having a magnificent time with Will...So I asked him if Will thought it too bothersome--"

Will jabbed an elbow in Charlie's side. "Yeah...you sure asked me..."

"--And Charlie said that Will was doing it because he wanted to...You know that I could never stand to give anyone inconvenience. But that was what Charlie said...although it doesn't necessarily mean that Will is in love with Caroline."

Will turned to face Charlie, a dangerous and sardonic smile on his face. "What was that? 'Because I wanted to?' Have you gone raving mad?"

Jane spoke again,"...Although, Charlie did say that Will was fond enough of Caroline....quite fond actually."

The smile on Will's face, and Charlie was reminded chillingly of the old Mr. Darcy, who had terrified him as a child. Will bore a startling resemblance to his father...and looked just as frightening.

"WHAT?" The first woman's voice seemed to be moving now, and it could only be assumed that she was pacing. "A man all chummy chum with Caroline, and you expect me to spend an evening with him? You have no idea how big a favor I did you when I went to dinner with Collins. And now you want me to have dinner with someone who likes Caroline...this is mind staggering...I feel a swoon coming on..."

"Oh, Lizzy...Must you be so melodramatic?"

"Is such a thing to be credited? A-And...I recall this word for word...you said he was brilliant! You said he was a genius! Why is he going out with Caroline? A mentally retarded moron wouldn't agree to such a horrifying situation!"

Will frowned, cocking his head to one side speculatively. "Have I just been compared to a mental retard?"

"Oh--I know! He's probably one of those personality switching people! Or maybe he's schizophrenic! Or...God, he could be mentally deranged! I can't go and have dinner with someone mentally deranged!"

Charlie noted with some alarm that Will's knuckles were gleaming white, and nearly panicked when he realized that Will's gaze was fixed poisonously on him. "You told her that I was...fond...of Caroline? Quite fond?"

"What if he turns out to be a stalker? Don't shake your head at me, Jane! It could very well be possible! Or...what if he's a serial killer for all we know? My God, we're going to dinner with a serial killer!"

"You're paranoid!" Jane exclaimed. "How does any of this pertain to his going out with Caroline?"

"How? Jane, no one--no one--normal, sober, or sane would go out with Caroline Bingley..."

"That's not very nice--"

"But true!"

"Caroline is not so bad..."

"Oh?" The tone was scornful. "I can't do this, Jane...I cannot have dinner with a man who if 'quite fond' of Caroline...that would haunt me for the rest of my life...I would not be able to face myself in the morning. Call Charlie, Jane. Call him and say I was struck with a sudden case of...pneumonia."

"Now, Lizzy..."

Will turned to face Charlie. "You know," he remarked with deliberate calm, "She's right. How am I to have dinner with a woman who thinks I am mentally deranged and a serial killer? Tell them I couldn't make it...tell them I was preoccupied with Caroline..." Will bit out the last part with acidic sarcasm, and Charlie winced.

"Will, you really can't--"

"I'll do what I please!" The other snapped angrily. "I am most seriously displeased with you at present, Chip. Highly displeased. I would not be arguing at this moment were I you..."

"Will, what am I going to say to them?"

"Make it up, why don't you? You seem to be so adept at it when you were speaking to Jane about...Caroline and...me."

"B-but..."

"Goodbye, Chip."

An expression of bewilderment contorted Charlie's face as he realized how his plans were all fast unraveling. He determinedly set his jaws, and, grabbing Will by the wrist, knocked on the door.

Once. Twice. Thrice.

Nobody was going anywhere!