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Chapter One

Posted on Monday, 3 October 2005

William Darcy was not having a good day. He had just been in a conference with the US President over the state of their alliance, most of the problems had been patched up and the UK was unlikely to go to war with the US anyway, but just after that he had met with the French delegation and things had spiraled out of control from there. As if it wasn't bad enough that he had members of his own party calling his foreign policy absurd, he had now learned how to say 'rubbish' in 15 different languages including Japanese, Russian and Spanish. There was no way that this day could get worse.*

Then Charles Bingley, the Deputy Prime Minister, bounded into Darcy's office. He was reminded that this day would indeed get worse, if only because Bingley's perpetual optimism was a strain on Darcy's own cynical temper. However one could simply not get into an argument with Charles Bingley – it was impossible as Bingley always attempted to be a peace-maker in any argument and would generally acquiesce with the other. His bright, youthful looks and vibrant personality had endeared itself to the voters and Darcy knew that there were factions in his own Cabinet who wanted Bingley to replace him. Still, he didn't let politics influence his friendship with him.

“Jolly good Darce! I loved the way you stood up to the French ministers! Marvelous!”

“You mean the way I just made one of the biggest mistake of my political career?”

“Pardon?”

“Bingley think about it. The French government already don't like us, I doubt my little outburst helped relations with them.” He sank his head into his hands and let out a long sigh which contained all the anxiety and tiredness in his person. Bingley came nearer to the desk and sat on the end of it before patting Darcy on the shoulder.

“You think too much about work Darcy! Lighten up a bit! Don't take it too seriously.”

“Charles Bingley I do not believe that those words came out of your mouth. Don't take my job too seriously? I'm in charge of the United Kingdom. I think that merits my devotion.” He could see that Bingley was about to protest but got in before him, “And do you think you could fit more exclamation marks into your speech today?”

“Darce don't be such a spoil-sport. Come on, let's go for a drink. I'll bet we can sneak out past the security guards.”

Darcy just shook his head, watched as Charles scampered out of the room before getting up slowly and following him with barely any enthusiasm. Only Charles could face the public, the media and the varying committees in one day and still be cheerful. Then Darcy wondered why he had taken up politics in the first place. Sometimes it just didn't make sense. Well then life wasn't meant to sometimes.

Bingley was standing in an old corridor which was hardly ever used any more, which was shown by the decoration which looked more fitting in a 1950s film than in a state of the art house in Downing Street. Darcy could smell smoke wafting from him and realized that Charles must be smoking, a bad habit that he had picked up during the last general election campaign. Of course Bingley didn't smoke normal cigarettes like normal smokers did, oh no!, instead he preferred the menthol variety which supported his addiction but still left his breath and clothes smoke-free. Honestly!

“Ah I was wondering how long it would take for you to get here.”

“Well the scent of tar drew me here,” Darcy replied dryly.

“I know these cigarettes are brilliant, aren't they? No horrible stinks.”

“Almost as if you didn't smoke.”

“Yeah. Listen I found this passage thingy.”

Darcy cocked one eyebrow in disbelief, “Passage thingy? Bingley in case you haven't noticed we're not in one of the Famous Five books.”

“Oh I wish we were though, don't you? All that eating picnics and occasionally solving a few crimes. Oh the life. It'd be very exciting wouldn't it? I'd love to do something like that.”

Darcy decided that he wasn't going to say anything, it would only make matters worse. However he was reminded that behind Bingley's friendly demeanour was a shrewd and intelligent politician who had a fond spot for the ladies. In fact the latest one Hyacinth had just been left at the way-side yesterday. Shame, she seemed half decent, thought Darcy. Then again Bingley had a different woman every week or so and none of the affairs had reached the press. That was miraculous as Darcy's accidental kiss with Caroline Bingley had been front page news. He'd have to speak to someone in the Press Office.

“So what are we doing here?”

“Thought we'd go out for a drink. There's a great pub down the street. Serves the best beer.”

“And how do you plan that we get there and stay there without being accosted?”

“Disguise.”

Darcy rolled his eyes and wondered if a Cabinet Re-Shuffle was in order. A mentally insane Deputy wouldn't do the country much good, but then there'd probably been some in the past. “Disguise Bingley? What masks and fake moustaches?”

“Don't be so sarcastic Darcy. Just put on a hat, change what you're wearing and smile. No-one will notice it's you. Actually never mind the other things, even if you just smile no-one would guess it was you.”

“So droll Charles Bingley. Very amusing.”

“Go on, jump to it.”

Thank the Lord that they were friends or Darcy wouldn't be able to practise his sarcasm on a daily basis. Somehow he didn't think it would translate well with the ambassadors. He hopped up the back staircase and into his bedroom, a magnificent dark blue room which was very masculine. He quickly changed into jeans, an open necked shirt and tweed jacket. Then he decided that the tweed would give the game away too easily and opted for a black one instead. He was back downstairs within ten minutes, complete with cap on his head which shielded his upper face from public view. Bingley was waiting patiently, leaning against the banister. The guards had miraculously vanished.

“So, this passage...”

Nearly forty minutes, a lot of wriggling and effort later they were both standing outside The Meryton, a pub-nightclub thing. Darcy ardently wished that this wasn't one of those dreadful places where all the – what was the word used now? - chavs** stumbled out drunk from. Drugged up probably.

The bouncer was a stern, heavy man who asked for their ID but let two young women with virtually nothing on in without even a question. So this was the electorate. Probably support Labour, he shuddered at the thought. Labour was increasing in strength and as a result of the general election had reduced the Conservative majority considerably. Apparently there was some hot-shot young Labour MP for one of the Southern Constituencies who was leaving everyone else far behind him. Couldn't remember the chap's name though which was a great pity to Darcy as he prided himself on knowing all the competition, even the non-threatening ones.

Eventually the bouncer let them in, although it was probably due to fact that he couldn't find a reason to beat them up, thought Darcy arrogantly.*** Inside the club was a lot more attractive than the outside. The walls were painted a bright pink and blue with metal furniture, which was not what he would have chosen himself but then what choice did he have? He supposed that he could use his Prime Ministerial powers to have it re-decorated, but then that would take too much effort. When Darcy looked round for Bingley he discovered that he was gone and that he was left alone in the middle of a crowded London club on a Friday night. Possibly not the best thing in the world. Then he glanced towards the dance-floor and saw that Charles was, well he presumed dancing was the correct word but it appeared to be something completely different, dancing with a tall blonde girl who seemed to be very attractive. Of course she had to be for Charles to notice her, sometimes he was so shallow. They didn't look like they were going to be finished for some time so he went over to the bar and ordered a whiskey. The bar-tender peered strangely at him, probably never heard anybody order a whiskey before in this dreadful place, and then placed the drink on the counter.

“Fiver.”

“Five pounds?”

“Yeah.” Damn it was getting expensive to buy a drink. Maybe he should talk to the Chancellor about it. Then again, tearing out his eyebrows would be more fun than talking to the old bore about taxes.**** Good job he didn't make a habit of going out too much, well apart from the compulsory public appearances of course. God, those were dreadful. He glanced down the bar and noticed a young woman sitting a few chairs down from him looking thoroughly fed up. She seemed quite pretty but maybe that was the alcohol talking. So he moved seats so he was beside her. She didn't even look up at him as she ordered another drink. Her voice wasn't slurred so she wasn't drunk but she was definitely not stone cold sober. The woman picked up her glass of wine and chugged about half the contents back in one go. Darcy winced for her. She would have a gigantic headache in the morning.

“Excuse me, are you planning on staring at me all night?” She looked directly up at him. She had the most beautiful eyes he had ever seen, and he had a feeling that if he gazed at them long enough he would fall into their depths. “Do you speak?”

“Pardon? Oh yes, I do.”

“Well then...” She paused clearly waiting for an answer which Darcy could not give because he did not know what she was asking him. She carried on for him, “Staring at me all night? You're not one of those people who hate drinkers are you? Cause if you are I'll tell you now that I'm not in the mood for that tonight. Get enough of it from my mother.”

Darcy lifted his glass. “I drink.”

“So you do. Whiskey hmmm, never liked the taste.”

“Well it's an acquired taste,” he said smiling at her.

“Like fox-hunting and going to Eton?”

“Excuse me?”

She pointed at him. “Your accent. Very posh. Upper middle class I'd guess. Maybe even upper class full stop.” Darcy was baffled. This woman continued to amaze him. No-one had ever been so bold as to tell him the truth so bluntly. She put her hand out. “Lizzy Bennet.” Something about that name triggered alarm bells but Darcy ignored it. What was the most important thing now was to think of a reasonable pseudonym.

“Will.”

“Just Will?”

“Yep.”

“Like Cher?” She was looking at him in wonder.

“I was thinking Madonna personally but valid point.” She laughed. It struck a chord deep inside him and he grinned inwardly – she thought he was funny. Or was she laughing at him? That wasn't good. Well as long as she was having fun it didn't matter.

They continued chatting until the early hours when Lizzy decided to do something very rash.

She kissed him.

And he kissed her back.

The rays of light fluttered in through the blinds and Darcy found the left side of his face was warm with their heat. Then he realized that something was lying in his arms. Looking down he saw that it was Lizzy. She looked so pretty and peaceful that he didn't want to wake her so he just gazed at her for nearly half an hour before realizing that he had a press conference in two hours and that he would need to get back to Downing Street fast. So he jumped out of the bed, he presumed that it was hers, dressed and went out without looking back at Lizzy.

He was the Prime Minister. He could not have a relationship with a woman who was so inferior to him in every way. No matter how good it had felt last night their relationship could not go any further.

That's the last time I'll see her.

Explanatory notes:

*At this moment in Britain there is a lot of political unrest about Britain joining the EU. Conservatives and Labour are the two main British political parties and the UK Conservatives are not the same as the US ones. Think Conservative = middle/upper classes, and Labour = working classes and sometimes middle classes.

**A chav is a derogative term for a young working class person who wears a lot of big, fake gold jewellery. The opinions expressed here are Darcy's and they may or may not differ with the author's.

***If anyone's wondering why the bouncer didn't recognize Darcy or Bingley from their ID, my explanation is this. A survey carried out a few years ago found that only 97% of the British people questioned knew who Tony Blair was, bearing in mind that he was PM at the time.

****This story is completely fictional and in no way attempts to talk about the Blair/Brown situation. (Brown is the Chancellor of the Exchequer and there is allegedly a feud going on between them for the leadership of the Labour Party).

For any more information on British politics you can visit this website:

www.parliament.uk

Chapter Two

Posted on Tuesday, 11 October 2005

William Darcy, Prime Minister of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, was not a calm man today. It was about an hour after he had left Lizzy's house and after ignoring the security guards he found himself in his office with various members of the cabinet gathered around him, some looking at him like vultures. John Willoughby, the Chancellor and pain in the a***, was sitting looking very smug with his arms folded and his feet propped up on the table. The Home Secretary Knightley was standing with his hands folded behind his back beside Anne Elliot the Foreign Secretary. Charles, as usual, was smoking his menthol cigarettes. Someday Darcy was going to put a ban on menthol cigarettes before they sickened him to death.

“Well Prime Minister, looking forward to your crucifixion this morning?” Willoughby gloated, leaning forward in his chair slightly and sniggering. “I'm sure they'll give you an easy time.”

“Yes Willoughby. I'm sure they'll all forget about the massive failure that was the meeting with the French delegate and the fact that despite our protests the US President won't back down about anything.” Knightley was getting exceedingly annoyed. If there was one thing he hated in this world it was vain, slick and sly men such as John. Although Darcy shared his opinion he could not demote the Chancellor as half of his party would revolt. Not a good way to start a second term.

“George, calm down. At least you're not going to lose your job if things go badly,” Anne offered a faint smile but failed miserably, her face was pale and she clutched her hands together to stop them shaking.

“Anne, you won't. I promise.”

“Thanks William.”

“Mr Darcy it's time.”

“Thank you James. Well, let's face the hounds.”

The press room was chocked full of journalists and cameras and as Darcy entered the room he was almost blinded by what felt like millions of flashes. Such was his inability to see, he had to stand still for a moment before he could continue. He hoped it looked like he was in control, because inside he was a bag of nerves. All he could think about was the previous night and Lizzy, every thought of foreign policy, his policies in general and his successful election campaign was blown out of his head, and in it's place was a pair of dark brown eyes that seemed to stare into the soul.

He snapped out of the trance he was in and decided not to put off the inevitable.

“Steve, first question.” Steve was a journalist for the BBC and in private he and Darcy were reasonably good friends. However now this wasn't personal, it was politics.

“Prime Minister, do you feel that the vast majority of female MPs voted in during the last election signals that the British public want more female members of the Cabinet? How do you feel about female MPs in general?”

Okay, not about France or the US. Good. “Well I believe that the government should accept that there are women involved in politics however scarce they may be. I confess that Anne Elliot is the only female minister in my cabinet and she does a good job. However some women in politics do have a tendency to mither on about some issue with no relevance to running the country. Obviously they do appear to be more caring than their male counterparts and perhaps this is the price we must pay for living in such difficult times.”

“Most of them aren't much to look at either. Dull and dowdy and approaching menopause. Not the sort of people one wants to work with eh Prime Minister?” It was Steve again. Maybe a more suitable explanation should be used for him, he was a smart guy who loved to antagonize people. Darcy knew this and although he did not want to criticize the press (that would finish his career – he was sure that they could make up some scandal or other. Probably with a call-girl. Or a call-boy. It depended on whether they were being particularly cruel that day.) he did not want to be branded a misogynist either. So he compromised.

“Quite,” he offered a slight smile at this, saying to Steve 'thanks for that'. Steve raised his eye-brows in return. Only then did Darcy realize what he had said. Tomorrow, during Prime Minister's Questions, they were going to kill him. Slowly and painfully.

“Next question.”

“How do you feel about America's resistance to compromise?” Finally, something sensible.

The rest of the press conference hadn't gone much better. Questions about France, the United States, oil prices. Sometimes things were just tedious. The next morning the memory didn't get any better. He woke up, showered and got dressed before plodding downstairs and meeting a sea of tired faces.

“What's happened?”

The comment about women had happened. As usual Downing Street had all the newspapers so they could cover every story, every leak. Now on the Cabinet table, all Darcy could see were pictures of him smirking with different headlines. His favourite was “Darce the Arse.” Hmm. Who knew the headline writer's vocabulary was so large and varied. He was berating himself for making that stupid comment about women. If only he'd have said that women MPs were the best thing since sliced bread. Then he probably would have the same headline, same picture only the story that he was criticizing male MPs. Darcy hated being in the public eye. If only one could run the country in secret. Could be a viable option. Then again the media would probably turn it into some dreadful reality show: Who's the PM? Vote A if you think it's Darcy, Vote B if you think it's Bingley, Vote C if it's a bloody chimpanzee! He wondered if he could ban those shows as well.

“I can't believe what you said you bloody w*****!” Willoughby came bursting into the room, his face crimson with rage and exercise. Darcy was surprised. He would have put money on it that he would come in full to the brim with joy. Maybe he had been wrong about Willoughby. “You could cost us all our jobs! Why didn't you just stick with the foreign policies and the talks yesterday? Get Elliot away and allow us to stay in government!”

“John I think that you've said quite enough. That was totally inappropriate. In case you have forgotten, William is our Prime Minister. He deserves your respect!”

Willoughby seemed taken aback by Anne's outburst but continued anyway, “What he's our leader? He's not a bloody President. Ever heard of the phrase 'primus inter pares'? Probably not.”

“Actually John I studied Latin at university. It means 'first among equals'. And before you say anything William is. He always consults us and, unlike you, doesn't have a burning desire to sleep with every attractive woman in the world.”

Will felt the guilt creep in there. He wondered what Anne would say if she knew that he had had a one night stand with an extremely attractive woman last night. He wondered what Lizzy had thought when she woke up to find that no-one was there beside her. She must have felt so used. Then again she probably had loads of one night stands. Those girls always go for any man. Yet deep down inside himself he knew, as he knew that Labour was his political enemy and that the Liberal Democrats would never get into power in his life-time, that she wasn't that type of a girl. She seemed innocent. Somehow. More than likely she hated him now. He felt a twinge of pain inside him and pushed it aside in favour of watching the highly amusing sight of charmer John Willoughby being taken down a peg or two by the meek and quiet Anne Elliot.

Wonders would never cease.

A while later he made his way towards the House of Commons and into the chamber. All the seats were full and he could glimpse other MPs squashed round the entrances, hoping to see and hear the PM. He sat down beside Willoughby and Charles and took a deep breath. He always hated these things as they tended to raise hairy issues and generally lasted far too long for his own liking. Charles was humming some pop song under his breath. It was very irritating. The song that is, not the humming. So he decided to put an end to the ridiculous alleged melody and asked Charles quietly about the night before.

“It was brilliant, wasn't it Darce? I met this angel. Blonde, young and really pretty.”

“I know. I saw you.”

“With Jane? That's her name you know, Jane Bennet.”

Bennet? Bennet? Oh don't let her be anything to do with Lizzy. Please.

“Nice name,” suddenly Darcy's voice cracked as his throat became dry. For the life of him he didn't know why though. “Did anything happen?”

“Happen? No. I wouldn't do that to a woman that I'm interested in. Really interested. Not just for a one time use. I can feel it, she's special. She's a primary school teacher you know.” Darcy's mind was all a-whirl. Bingley, the consummate flirt, had just said that if he was seriously thinking about a woman then sleeping with her at the start wasn't a good idea. Darcy had known this but Charles' cheerfulness undermined the misery he felt as a result of abandoning Lizzy. Perhaps he could sneak out again and apologize profusely to her before she slapped him for his rakish behaviour. “You wouldn't do anything like that, would you Darcy?”

He stumbled over his words. “No. No. Of course not.”

“No. Couldn't imagine you as a primary school teacher.”

“What?” Darcy spluttered. Primary school teacher? What the-

Before he could finish his thought the speaker announced that they would begin. The first question was from a balding man whose suit looked like it had last been worn in the seventies. Doug Rowden. Labour. Very Labour. Verging on Socialism, Labour.

“Does the Prime Minister feel that his economic policies, particularly the tax system, are too hard on the poor and that he is just appeasing his rich friends at the expense of the working class?” Claps and jeers filled the chamber as Rowden sat down and Darcy rose. Honestly, sometimes this place is a pantomime.

“No I do not feel that our tax system, nor any of the economic policies which this government has implemented, are targeted at one particular range. Nor do I feel that I discriminate against the working class in favour of the upper ones. Every citizen should be equal. Perhaps you should spend time not being a hypocrite and realize that everyone's the same. You're criticizing me for, allegedly, not caring for the working classes and supporting the upper echelons of society, while you do exactly the reverse. Please look at the facts before you argue with me again.” This garnered a massive round of cheers and boos as Darcy sat down again. Most of the other questions followed in the same vein with the exception being about the size of hedges in an MPs constituency. That was a nice break.

After one particularly raucous response to his words he sat back down beside Bingley who congratulated him on his answer. A mixture of the applause and Charles' chat meant that he did not hear who was to ask him a question next. The noise died down as the person got up and Darcy had to search before one of his friends in the row behind told him that the speaker was in the Labour seats at the top left. Darcy turned his head. However before he could see who it was he heard a voice.

“Surely the Prime Minister must admit that his views on female MPs are utterly despicable and that what he meant to say yesterday was that women are for bedding one time only and that it is a practice which he admires.” Everyone actually gasped at the audacity of the MP. No one had dared to comment on the PM's private life like that.

However Darcy was not thinking clearly at all. He had recognized the voice but he had told himself that he was imagining things. It couldn't possibly be who he thought it was. Then he had looked at her and saw that it was her and could not believe it. He listened to her comment. He shuddered at her words.

For there in front of him stood a stony faced Lizzy Bennet.

Explanatory notes:

The Liberal Democrats (or Lib. Dems. As they are more generally referred to as) are the third political party in UK politics. They haven't been in power since the 1920s. The Cabinet is a group of around 25 ministers who meet to discuss policies etc. The main jobs in it are PM, Chancellor of the Exchequer, Foreign Secretary and Home Secretary. Prime Minister's Questions is a weekly event when MPs get to ask the PM what they want. This is normally a very loud event and the sharp witted-ness of the politicians, especially the leaders, is put to the test as they have to be alert and know exactly what the government is doing, their policies etc. This is broadcast on television.

Chapter Three

Posted on Tuesday, 18 October 2005

“Surely the Prime Minister must admit that his views on female MPs are utterly despicable and that what he meant to say yesterday was that women are for bedding one time only and that it is a practice which he admires.”

Oh No.

This was definitely not happening.

No.

It was a figment of his imagination.

No.

Soon he realized that he would have to respond to her before he made himself look like a complete fool. But what was he going to say? 'Look I'm sorry I used you hope you do well in politics'? That would go down extremely well in the Commons. Already as he looked around him he could see that Willoughby was smiling – no doubt he was relishing this opportunity to humiliate his rival. This would be one thing due to one stupid comment that he wouldn't live down. Brilliant. Absolutely bloody brilliant. As he rose he wasn't sure if his legs would hold him but luckily he came to the table with remarkably little hardship or embarrassment. Speaking of that, his face was probably entirely crimson by now. How the press would laugh.

“My honourable friend I am astonished by your question. The comment that I made yesterday about women was terrible and I fully admit that. However your accusations are unjustified. I have the utmost respect for women and would never treat them in such a way.” He saw the disbelief on her face and more than anything he wanted her to understand that he had not discarded her, that he felt that last night was a miraculous thing which would never be equaled and that he wanted to know more about her. Who her family were, what she liked doing, why she got into politics. “I apologize if I caused you any offence. Believe me I did not mean to.”

It was over. Thank the merciful Lord that the ordeal was over. He tried not to stare at her, he really did. However his eyes kept straying towards her and all he could think of was that she looked as good in a suit as she did in the dress she had been wearing the previous night. No! You mustn't think like that! She probably hates you. Definitely does by the look on her face. And so Darcy was left in a fit of melancholy for the rest of PMQs and when it was over he believed that he had managed to give half decent answers to the other questions and fought off the taunting of the leader of the Opposition Edmund Bertram – or Ed as his PR team said that he preferred to be addressed as. Honestly that man was as sanctimonious as he was pious. Darcy really couldn't understand how a man who had attended Eton and Cambridge – like he had himself – could then launch a vehement attack on some of the Tory MPs because of their upper-class background.

As Darcy came out of the chamber he saw that Bertram was talking to Lizzy - Elizabeth - and she was laughing at one of his jokes. Instantly Darcy became jealous. Why was she laughing at him? Did she like him? Were they having an affair? At the last thought Darcy mentally kicked himself as he knew for certain that Lizzy had not slept with her leader before. Anyway, why should it matter to him what – or who - she did? Stop it right now! She looked up at him as he passed and he couldn't even discern a flicker of expression on her face, it was neither hate nor embarrassment nor anything else he could identify. Perhaps she really didn't care about his actions. Maybe she was one of those politicians whose life revolved around their job and everything else was irrelevant. He was one of those politicians!

Willoughby came up beside him and patted him on the shoulder rather roughly. “Whatever did you do Darce?”

“Darcy to you.”

“Bingley calls you Darce.”

“Charles is my friend. You aren't.” Willoughby chortled and seemed genuinely impressed with Darcy's reply.

“Very good. Now what was the lovely Lizzy Bennet angry about?”

“Elizabeth,” Darcy automatically corrected the Chancellor and then realized that sticking up for the opposition – and a critic – was going to seem extremely suspicious. Willoughby picked up on Darcy's anger and started to torment him.

“All that stuff about you believing that women are only good to sleep for then dump was brilliant. She's going to have a bright career ahead of her.” He leaned in and leered across at Lizzy who was talking with another of her colleagues. A woman Darcy noted with joy. “All she needs to do is apply what she thinks you think and she'll be on top in no time. Wonder who'll be on the bottom?” The suggestiveness in that comment made Darcy finally snap. He grabbed Willoughby by the collar, pulled him close then shoved him up against the wall.

“How dare you say that about her! She is an amazing woman!”

“And how would you know about that?” Willoughby gasped. “How about the fact that you and Bingley disappeared last night and that although he returned in the early hours you did not make an appearance until morning? Were you with that slut?”

“Shut up now!”

“Oooh I might just get the tight-a***d Darcy to swear! That would be an achievement. Did you make her swear last night?”

That was the final straw. Darcy's fist connected with Willoughby's face and the latter fell down slightly but slumped against the wall. His face was strained and contorted. “You'll get what's coming to you.” Unfortunately for the Chancellor there was no press loitering around as they were heading towards the MPs offices. Darcy took advantage of this to edge nearer to the other man.

“You ever, and I mean ever talk about Lizzy that way again and your political career is finished.”

Willoughby stood up straight and when he reached his full height he matched Darcy's. The two men stared at each other before Willoughby had to look away and proceeded to slink down the corridors. Darcy gazed at him until he was out of sight. Suddenly he became aware of a presence behind him. Thinking it was Charles or Anne he turned round with something resembling a smile. However when he saw who it was and the smile disappeared.

“Lizzy.” He took her appearance in and attempted to memorize the exact expression of her eyes at that moment. She was so beautiful and Darcy immediately scolded himself for leaving her that morning. What was that – tenth time that morning? She just gazed at him, her eyes a mixture of admiration and uncertainty. It was with great hesitance that she spoke. Her voice was nothing like it was in the House of Commons.

“Hello Prime Minister.”

“Call me Will.”

“So you weren't lying to me last night then? You probably thought it would be a great joke to bed the opposition.”

“No such thought entered my head. I didn't know who you were. Didn't you know who I was?” Then he got to thinking. She should have known that he was the Prime Minister – she probably had known. That left Darcy with the terrible conclusion that she had slept with him for purely political reasons and a fabulous kiss and tell story should her career go down the pan.

“I was drunk. It had been a hard day.” Immediately Darcy was concerned about her and angry at whoever had made her suffer then as he remembered what she said he grew curious. He probably shouldn't have said what he did then but he couldn't help it.

“So are you saying that you slept with me because you were drunk? Wouldn't you have done so otherwise?”

“I would have noticed that you were the PM if I had been sober. Note to self: Lizzy and alcohol don't mix. Really should learn that.” She put a hand to her head and sighed. Darcy felt guilty about bringing up her drinking, obviously things had gone wrong in the past. “At my eighteenth birthday party my friends and I went out to the pub down the road – novelty and all that – and I got completely..well let's just say that it wasn't a pleasant experience.” He wanted to know more but feared that it was too early in their relationship - Hang on, relationship - to divulge such information. “It sounds like some trashy romance novel doesn't it? From opposite sides of some sort of divide, forbidden love and all that. Not that we have love for each other or that we would you know but metaphorically speaking,” she was babbling. A quality which Darcy found was endearing in her. A soft smile curved his lips upwards and when she glanced up at him she stopped. “Sorry. I didn't mean to- You know I'm really different with politics. That I can get right.”

“No, I wasn't making fun of you. It's nice to see someone who hasn't got a God-complex.”

“Like that jerk Willoughby?” They began to walk down the corridor which said man had recently passed through and Darcy was actually embarrassed at his colleague's behaviour.

“I'm sorry about him. Did you hear everything he said?”

“Pretty much. Arrogant git.” Darcy smiled at Lizzy's choice of words. It was something that he had called John before. “And...And I just wanted to thank you for sticking up for me. Despite what you said about women,” she glanced teasingly up at him. He groaned.

“Did you have to ask me that in the Commons?”

“Actually I had thought up a question about your alliance with certain countries but I thought that the other one would add some comic relief into parliament. Needs it sometimes.”

“Well thanks.”

She stopped and abruptly he stopped as well. Suddenly the serious expression was back on her face. “I'm still angry with you, you know. When I woke up this morning you were gone and you didn't say anything. I believed that I was just a one-night-stand and that you had already forgotten me. It..well it really hurt. All I could think was that you were gone and I had been so stupid to...you were my...”

“Your first. I know.”

“What sort of a woman loses it with a complete stranger? Or Prime Minister in disguise?” She was very distressed and was deeply concerned that he would think badly of her. If anything it was the opposite. Darcy admired her for being brave enough to bring such a subject up – it was something he would never have done – and was still smiting about then fact that she was angry with him, but that could be expected.

“Don't have any regrets Lizzy. You're too young. What are you..25?”

“Twenty one actually.”

“Twenty one?” He gasped. She was not twenty one. He was thirty four for heaven's sake.

“Yep. Youngest MP ever. Quite an achievement, or so I'm told by everyone I meet. It's getting kind of annoying.”

“Believe me they'll soon forget about it. They always do. Something always pops up to take the attention away.” He was offering her some advice, having been in the same position when he was elected an MP at twenty five, a member of the shadow cabinet at twenty eight, leader of the Conservative party at thirty and Prime Minister at thirty one. Quite a career. He wondered if she would reach the same levels of power as he had. Probably.

“Nothing cannot be forgotten I suppose. I just wish the whole thing happened quicker. You don't suppose you could invent an oil crisis in the Middle East to deflect the attention from me? And by the way, I'm totally against that kind of thing. Just for future knowledge.”

They had reached what Darcy saw was her office and he knew that it was time to say good-bye. However as she lingered outside the door and he stood his ground they both realized that they were trying to spend as much time with the other as possible. But of course they would never admit it to each other.

“Right then so ah, what are you doing this evening?”

“Asking me out on a date Mr Prime Minister?” She asked him coyly. He reddened and quickly and ineloquently attempted to explain himself.

“It wasn't.. That is I didn't mean to... I didn't want to cause any offence.”

She laughed. “Don't worry Will. I'm just winding you up. Anyway I do have plans.” She must have seen his look of disappointment because she continued with amusement in her voice, “MY sister and I have to go and visit our parents. It's like annually so I must forbear and go but honestly my mother could try the patience of a saint.”

“Know the feeling.”

“Well I'll see you when I see you. Have a nice week. Bye.” She walked into her office and Darcy knew that it wouldn't be acceptable for him to be seen staring in at the windows of a Labour MPs office, or any MPs for that matter. So he hurried towards his quarters and then ran into Bingley in the hall.

“Darce I've made a decision.”

“What? You've finally decided to get rid of those menthol cigarettes?” Darcy realized that this was too much to hope for but it was still disappointing when Charles answered in the negative. “What is it then?”

“Well I've been talking with Caroline and Louisa and I've come to the conclusion that I need somewhere to rest. Properly rest you know like blazing fires and all that. Well anyway, I searched the properties available on the Internet and I found one that I love. It's nothing like Pemberley of course but it'll suit me.”

“Where is it?” Darcy fully expected it to be in the middle of nowhere but was pleasantly surprised when he recognized some of the place names.

“It's in Hertfordshire near Meryton, which is a lovely quaint little village. The house itself is set in wonderful grounds and there are stables and even a lake! I can't wait to get myself into country life. And of course as you are my best friend you must be the first guest I have – although you're more like family to me.” Darcy was touched at Bingley's sentiment but before he could thank his friend properly Charles continued in his own merry way. “There's only one problem.”

“What's that?” Darcy looked up and found that the other man was smiling in jest.

“It's in a Labour constituency. I wonder if they're related?”

“Pardon?”

“Well you remember I told you about Jane?”

“Yes. How could I forget?”

“Well the Labour MP's got the same surname. She's called Elizabeth Bennet.”

Chapter Four

Posted on Thursday, 27 October 2005,

Bingley had traveled down to Netherfield and even Darcy had to admit that the house was magnificent. However Darcy got himself out of that particular area of the country as soon as he could due to an irrational anxiety about seeing Lizzy. She'd been strangely absent in the past couple of weeks: he hadn't seen her in the Commons or in the MPs offices and not for lack of trying. Where was she? He had the sneaking suspicion that if he was to investigate around Meryton and Longbourn he would be able to find her quite easily. Meryton seemed to be a place where everyone knew everyone else and their business, which Darcy didn't like. He had always been a private man and although he was forced to endure the paparazzi he hated the fact that everyone knew his business. In fact just after he had first been elected some fool had been stupid enough to follow him on holiday. The result had been that unfortunate photograph of himself and Caroline Bingley which had been splashed over all the tabloids (and to Darcy's utmost shame, some of the broadsheets). For years there had been persistent rumours that he and Caroline were having some sort of passionate affair or that he was secretly married to her. As a result Caroline had made not so subtle hints about 'furthering their relationship'. What relationship? As far as Darcy was aware he had never had any sort of relationship with Caroline 'fashion disaster' Bingley.

“Darce what do you think of it? Isn't it utterly delightful!” Charles was beaming literally from ear to ear. He had no idea a man's mouth could smile that much. Darcy looked out of the car window as they traveled along the motorway and sighed.

“It seems like a pleasant enough place to me Bingley. However it is not my choice, remember it is you who will be living there.”

“I like it exceedingly! And what's more I have reason to believe that Jane does live here.”

“Really?” Darcy attempted to remain unaffected as thoughts of Jane Bennet led to fantasies about Lizzy. It didn't seem to be very successful as even Bingley realized something was affecting his friend's concentration. That was unusual.

“Yes. I got that work experience girl to look it up.”

“Charles really! She's meant to be here learning about government and not doing your work.”

“I suppose but anyway I..I mean Marianne found some information on her. She works in London and is the eldest of five children – all girls! Imagine!”

“Quite.” Darcy intoned drolly. His friend didn't notice, or if he did chose to ignore it.

“And her parents and three younger sisters live in a house called Longbourn.”

“What a co-incidence Bingley. Barely three miles away.”

“And her sister is Elizabeth Bennet. Looks like I'm in Labour country now!”

“Something which will soon be remedied at the next general election I hope.”

“Oh certainly! I mean Elton was a bit of a wimp so we can hardly be surprised at Miss Bennet's victory.”

Of course it hadn't been a surprise that Elton lost. He had been pompous and arrogant and self-centered that he had come a measly fourth to Labour, the Lib Dems and even some Independent candidate. Lady Catherine de Bourgh, Darcy's aunt, was responsible for that mistake as Elton had been one of her little minions who were tolerated by her but loathed but everyone else. Of late Lady Catherine had been mentioning a William Collins. Heaven knows what he would be like!

“I must say,” Bingley continued, “that Elizabeth Bennet is a very intelligent person and very charismatic as well. In fact from what I've heard she is as dedicated to her work as you are.” All these comments made it sound like Charles was trying to fix Elizabeth and Darcy together but instead it was only his way of flattering Jane. The man has it bad! Even when she's not here all he thinks of is her. Darcy talked to himself. The next thought came unbidden, Just like you do with Lizzy. He was starting to get withdrawal symptoms from not seeing this marvelous woman and he could only hope that she would come back soon.

Or else he might be pressured into going out with Caroline. That sent a shudder down his spine.

“Bingley have you got that report?”

“Which one?”

Darcy shook his head in disbelief. How could such a top ranking politician be so scatter-brained? He briefly looked at his friend before turning back to the window. Today was a good day.

There wasn't too much paparazzi.

However the security car following him was not as confident as Darcy was. There had been a red car following them from London to Hertfordshire and now it was on their tail again. As they were about to radio for assistance the car turned off the motorway. The risk seemed eliminated. For now.

Several months later

It was the end of the parliamentary year and Darcy was off to enjoy his holiday. Or so Charles said. Darcy wanted nothing more than to retire to his own house in Derbyshire and spend the summer with his sister, however that was not to be the case. Georgiana was in France on a school trip, Charles had basically forced him to come and to top everything off he was to spend numerous months in the same house as Caroline, Caroline's sister Louisa and her drunkard of a husband Hamilton Hurst. Strange name. Then again Fitzwilliam Darcy wasn't such a normal one either.

Now he was stuck in his chauffeur driven car with Caroline. Bingley had taken his other sister and brother-in-law in his own car. The other occupant of the car was completely unaware to his distress, instead focusing on the good luck she had to be sharing a car with the most eligible bachelor in the UK. She only hoped that her dress was orange enough and short enough to capture his attention. Darcy, on the other hand, was blatantly ignoring Caroline as much as he could without being rude, he wished that she had developed a sudden case of amnesia and had forgotten about that awful kiss four years ago. As she wetted her lips and leaned forward it was evident that she hadn't.

“Will darling, look at the opportunity we have now. We're all alone with no cameras, no journalists, no one to bother us. Think of what we could be doing.”

“I am sorry Caroline but you are mistaken. There are cameras and journalists trailing us and I am sure that they do wish to bother us. However if it was not the case I would happily take a look at the sights.”

“Pardon?” Caroline didn't quite understand what he was saying and Darcy remembered that sarcasm was lost on her – or any kind of humour which did not involve public ridiculing.

“I believe that there are several landmarks around here. Perhaps Charles and I will check it out.”

“Will,” Caroline ignored what he had just said and moved closer to him. Her arm was now circled around his and she was so close that he could feel her breath on his cheek. It was not an experience he wanted to continue. He withdrew his arm and moved as far away from her as he could. Unfortunately this did not deter her.

“Caroline I think we're here-”

“Well we can continue this somewhere private now.”

“Do you approve of you brother's house?”

“Well it's hardly Pemberley but one must put up with all life's disappointments.” She had still not looked at the house, more focused on him than anything or anyone else. It was only when the driver came to open the car door did she back away from him. Eventually she caught sight of the house. “Oh it is even more country than I thought. Oh Charles! Whatever will I do?”

However as she gazed around in search of Darcy he had already wandered off somewhere to escape from her.

Darcy was relived that he had gotten away from Caroline. She was a predator plain and simple – all artificial and tacky – and only served to make Lizzy appear in a better light. Lizzy who was so beautiful and natural and...

Standing right in front of him.

“Lizzy!”

“Will!” Darcy couldn't tear his eyes away from her and she seemed entranced also. Then he heard another voice speak and that made him aware that they were not the only two people in the world and that staring at her in such a manner was excessively stupid.

“Auntie Lizzy! Auntie Lizzy!” There was a little girl clinging onto her arm and Lizzy momentarily looked away from Darcy so that she could see what was the matter with her niece.

“Yes Jasmine?”

“Mommy's home!”

“Do you want to go and see her?”

“Yes Auntie Lizzy!” Jasmine mustn't have been over three years old, her hair was long, dark and in messy plaits. She looked so much like Elizabeth that if Darcy hadn't have known otherwise he would have presumed that Jasmine was Lizzy's daughter.

“Good-bye Will.”

“Bye.”

They went on ahead and Darcy was resigned to only getting one glimpse of her. However he heard foot-steps behind him and whirled around. It was Lizzy. She was running back to him and for one strange moment he felt like he was at the end of one of those cheesy romantic comedies, waiting for the love of his life to come back to him. Soon he realized that this was reality. After all there was no boy band music playing miraculously all around him.

“Will!” She was slightly out of breath but not tired out. “You're coming to the dance tonight, aren't you?”

“Well Bingley's said something about it yes but I had not made up my mind.” Until now.

“You should come. It'd be good to see you there.”

He was touched at her statement, “Thank you. That means a lot.”

“Just you know, wear a disguise.”

“Pardon?” Was she serious?

“If people find out that Mr Prime Minister is here then heaven help you.”

“Why?” Maybe because of scheming mamas.

“Because the majority hate sleaze.”

“Lizzy!”

“God I'm not trying to say that you are,” She held her hand over her mouth and he saw her forehead wrinkle slightly – in worry or laughter. He couldn't tell which.

“I'd certainly hope not!”

“What I was trying to say was that this is my turf now.” A smile was teasing the edge of her lips and it was infectious. Darcy attempted to suppress one. Without much success. Lizzy's face suddenly became more somber.

“What's the matter?”

She shook her head slowly. “Nothing. It's just..You have the cutest smile.” He felt himself blush and she glanced down at the ground – unable to make eye-contact. “I like dimples in a man.”

“Thanks.” Her last comment had been teasing and he felt compelled to use up some of his plenteous store of sarcasm. She was just walking backwards away before turning and quickening her pace to a jog. She wasn't wearing any shoes. Darcy surmised that it was a hot day and they were walking on grass but still! Who knew what kind of things she could pick up from it. As he walked away back to Netherfield via the most scenic route he could find, he saw a pair of sandals discarded on the path. He peered at them for a little while before smirking and picking them up. At least this would give him a valid excuse to see her again.

He approached Netherfield and thankfully the vultures and the drunk were absent. Only Charles remained leaning back on his car. He seemed perfectly peaceful and Darcy knew that no matter what he said or how much Charles' sisters complained, this was the right place for him.

“Darcy! Where have you been?”

“Just went for a walk Charles.”

“Why are you carrying a pair of woman's shoes?”

“It doesn't matter.” He clapped Charles on the back and together they went inside. “Charles, you were talking of some sort of a dance earlier...”

Chapter Five

Posted on Thursday, 3 November 2005

Darcy couldn't believe that he was going to some country party with Charles, the sisters and a pair of women's shoes. Lizzy had suggested wearing some sort of disguise but for the life of him he couldn't think if one, well he had thought of dressing up as Margaret Thatcher but if the press got hold of that one... Finally he decided to give up and not wear a disguise. He heard a knock at the door.

“Come in!” He sincerely wished that it wasn't Caroline.

“Are you ready Darcy?” Fortunately it was Charles and not his sister. He stared at the shoes which Darcy had left on the bed. “Why have you got those shoes on your bed? You're not hiding anything from me are you?”

“Of course not Bingley. Right, shall we go?”

Thankfully the traveling arrangements had changed significantly. As Darcy's driver had been given the night off there was now only the one car with a chauffeur. As Darcy knew that Caroline would not demean herself to arrive at a party (no matter how common) without style or proof of her brother's wealth, he offered to drive as he was the only one who hadn't drunk anything. As usual Hurst was inebriated, Charles would never dream to drink and drive, and Louisa could not drive because she had never attempted to learn – such things were for paupers (or so she and her sister claimed). Caroline, as Darcy suspected, had a hard time deciding which car to go in but realizing that her reputation needed to be maintained went with her sister and brother-in-law in the expensive and showy sports car. While they were driving away Darcy could feel a satisfied expression forming on his face. For a merciful half hour he would be rid of the wretched Caroline.

“See Darce, I knew that it was right to give Hampton the night off.”

Darcy smirked at his friend and raised an eyebrow. “Yes, but it would have been kind to inform me prior to going that he was not here.”

“Details, details!”

“Hmmph” Darcy snorted. Charles was far more cunning than his sisters suspected and sometimes Darcy even felt that he underestimated his friend. However Charles was the master of Spin so nobody would ever know. As they got into the Aston Martin Bingley came upon another subject which he was heartily interested in.

Jane Bennet.

“Do you think Jane will be here tonight?”

“I don't know Charles. Maybe.”

“I believe she will be. She said that she loves parties especially when her friends are with her.”

“Did she?” Darcy was concentrating more on getting out of Netherfield's rather tricky entrance/exit and so wasn't paying all that much attention to Charles. Although as the subject was the marvelous, beautiful and heavenly Jane bloody Bennet he assumed that a short phrase here and there would be enough. After all Darcy was convinced that if left to his own devices Bingley could write a sonnet on Jane. Or even a whole Shakespeare-esque play.

He must never leave Bingley to his own devices.

The place where the party was being held turned out to be little more than a basic country pub like those in Lambton. He could already imagine Caroline's expression upon seeing that this was what she would be spending the next few hours at, Darcy guessed that it would be something akin to a bulldog. Or worse because bulldogs did not wear so much orange or cover themselves in rouge. He let out a little chuckle at seeing Charles' car sitting at the very front of the pub and three of the occupants looking very disturbed indeed. Oh tonight would be marvelous!

As he turned to face Charles he found that his friend was already out the door and heading for the dance so he, as a proper friend should – and definitely not because of Elizabeth Bennet, followed. Immediately he heard a car door opening and footsteps running towards him. He didn't even need to look to know that it was Caroline. However had he been in any doubt it would have been clear the next moment.

“Oh William darling! What a horrid place this is! Some awful country thief will try and steal something of mine I'm sure.” She had caught up with him and linked her arm in his. “But you'll protect me my love.” She tried to lean her head on Darcy's shoulder but just as she was nearing success he quickened up and Caroline nearly fell. He could hear the stilettos clattering about now.

Charles was waiting rather impatiently for the rest of the group inside the pub door. “How long will it take my sisters to catch up?” He sounded annoyed which for Charles Bingley was extremely unusual. “Do you think we can go on without them Darce?”

“More than likely but unfortunately if we did that we would have to listen to your sisters complain all night and the rest of the week about the indignities of being left to go somewhere on their own.”

“Oh.”

Soon the rest had caught up and Bingley tore off down the hall before opening the door. All the sound which had come from the room before their entrance was now completely absent. Everyone turned to look at who had just come in and there was a collective gasp as they recognized the Deputy PM and the PM himself. This was why Darcy rarely went to social events. Everyone looked at him. Then a man approached them. He was in his fifties and evidently had enough money to buy plenty of food. There was a smile on his face to rival Bingley's.

“Oh Mr Bingley I'm so pleased to meet you again.”

“I'm pleased to see you too Sir William. And please, call me Charles.” Sir William put his hand out and Bingley shook it.

“Oh Charles call me Lucas just. Everyone else does. We don't stand upon ceremony here.” Then he noticed Darcy hovering in the background. This time his tone was more deferential. “Oh Mr Darcy how good it is to see you. You seem to be doing a good job!”

“Thank you.” There was silence again until a female voice broke it.

“Well Lizzy's better than him! She'll be the first female Prime Minister and then maybe she'll finally get some.” The girl stopped abruptly and from the exclamation of pain afterwards it was clear that someone had hit her to shut her up. Darcy was astounded. That girl knew nothing about politics. Nothing! Good God she hadn't even heard of Mrs Thatcher. And that comment about Lizzy. Well let's just say that Darcy was extremely glad the lights were so dim.

The DJ started the music again and Darcy realized with a groan that it was some awful dance music! Honestly it gave him a headache. When he glanced in Charles' direction he saw that his friend was being led off by Sir William. Above the din Darcy could make out Bingley asking him whether Jane Bennet was here tonight. All Darcy could do was shake his head.

A little later he saw Bingley chatting with some people although he couldn't see there faces. He went over to investigate. There was a middle-aged woman there with two younger ones. As Darcy came closer he saw that Lizzy was one of them! His heart gave a painful thud and began thundering in his chest. His breathing sped up and it was all he could do to maintain a relatively calm expression.

“Oh Charlie I'm sure that you and Jane would be a lovely couple! Don't you Lizzy?”

“Well mama-” She was interrupted and Darcy heard her give a little sigh.

“You are both so handsome. Jane's very beautiful isn't she? I certainly think so and so does everyone else here. Much better than that spinster Charlotte Lucas I tell you!” The mother's praises of her daughter envied Charles'.

“Mum Charlotte's not a spinster.”

“She's nearly thirty and is not married! She is spinster!”

“I don't believe that marriage is so very important. It's just a piece of paper after all.”

“Lizzy!” Mrs Bennet seemed outraged at Lizzy's comments and Darcy could not help but smile.

“Well if you think about it, one in three marriages end in divorce and it would be a lot cheaper to separate without having that bit of paper.”

“Lizzy!” It appeared that Mrs Bennet was in such a state of shock at her daughter's words that the only thing in her vocabulary was her name.

“Oh mum you know I'm only teasing you. I do-” She paused and Darcy realized that she had seen him behind Charles. She looked down at her feet for a moment before raising her eyes to meet his. “Love you.”

“I know you love me Lizzy but at times you are so...Oh Mr Darcy! How lovely to see you here.”

“Oh Darcy this is Jane Bennet!”

Darcy sincerely doubted that this middle-aged woman was the 'angel' that Bingley had been waffling on about for months. “Oh yes my daughter is wonderful isn't she Mr Darcy!” It seemed that there was no stopping Mrs Bennet in her praise.

“Indeed she is Mrs Bennet.” It was not Jane Bennet that Darcy was describing.

“Do you want to dance Jane?”

“Yes thank you Charles.”

That left only Darcy, Mrs Bennet and Lizzy. “Mr Darcy you've met my other daughter Lizzy haven't you? She's in the government too.”

“I'm in the Opposition mum.”

“Well that's nearly the same thing.”

Apparently Lizzy had decided that it was impossible to try and inform her mother other-wise. Darcy decided to make some input into the conversation. He really wanted to speak to Lizzy again and this time nothing would stop him. He drew nearer to her and Mrs Bennet took the bait.

“Do you want to dance with Lizzy Mr Darcy?” Lizzy blushed and could not meet Darcy's eyes. Darcy in turn was furious with Mrs Bennet. Of course he wanted to dance with her daughter but his pride would allow him to follow her blatant attempts at gold-digging match-making. Damn her! He was trying to think of a way in which he would not offend Elizabeth by refusing to dance with her. This was crucial. Then his thought process was interrupted by Elizabeth herself.

“I'm too tired mother. I apologize Wil- Mr Darcy.” He watched her as she walked away to another girl in the room and Mrs Bennet let out a groan. However Darcy did not stay to listen to her apologies. He unconsciously drew nearer to Lizzy and was just unable to hear her conversation. Then Caroline Bingley approached him from behind and latched onto his shoulder. She leaned in and Darcy could smell her perfume and feel her breath on his neck. She clasped his hand and with the other put a glass of whiskey in his hand.

“The only way to survive an evening like this. It's not as good as London's but it'll suffice.”

“Caroline it's probably the same brand. The taste doesn't differ from place to place.”

“Of course it doesn't.” She whispered into his ear and Darcy tried to prevent a chill of disgust from going down his spine. She wouldn't move. Lizzy glanced over at them. She said something to her friend before hurrying past them. Darcy wondered what was the matter. Then it struck him. Caroline was clinging to him like they were married or at least completely loved up. Quickly he ran after Lizzy and didn't care what people would think if they saw him rushing after her.

“Lizzy! Lizzy wait!” He was outside now and he could just make out her figure running round the corner. As he followed her he realized that this place was a beer garden. She was sitting at one of the tables when he caught sight of her again. She had her head in her hands. He slowed down and then sunk into the chair opposite her. They sat in stony silence for what seemed like an eternity to Darcy.

“Are you involved with her?”

“No.”

“Were you?”

“No.”

“She seems very fond of you.”

“I know.” He sighed.

“Have you slept with her?”

“I just told you that I've never been in a relationship with her.”

“Just checking.”

“Don't you believe me?”

She looked up at him and stared him right in the eye. “Sometimes I don't.”

“Lizzy!” He felt his heart sinking. Every instinct told him that she was moving further and further away from him and he was powerless to stop her. Then he remembered something. “Wait there a minute.”

“What?”

“Just wait, please.” He ran to his car and grabbed the bag which he had put on the back-seat earlier on. He went back to Lizzy and hoped that she had stayed.

She had.

“What are you carrying?”

“Look and see.” He handed the bag to her, she opened it and gasped. “You left them on the path.”

“I know. I went back earlier and couldn't find them.”

He held his breath until she began again. “Thank you Will.”

“No problem.” She got up and walked towards him. It was a completely different feeling than Caroline standing close to him. It felt natural and right.

Then without warning she leaned up and kissed him. “Let's get out of here Will.”

And of course the only thing he could do was comply.

Chapter Six

Posted on Thursday, 17 November 2005

Darcy woke up and reveled in the feel of sunlight heating his skin. Of course he didn't need that to help him keep warm, no he had a far more pleasurable way to do that. He moved slightly in the bed and tightened his grip around the body lying beside him. She was amazing. Simply and absolutely amazing. Before he could drift off to sleep again he felt her stir beside him and turn around slowly in his arms. Opening his eyes he gazed down at her contented face and fought back the urge to laugh.

“Good morning.”

“Morning,” she whispered back. She clutched the quilt up to her face and the only thing he could see was her eyes, lovely as always but with a hint of something akin to nervousness.

“What's the matter?”

“Nothing. It's just...This is really happening.”

He smiled at that and his good mood showed in his voice, “Of course it is. Why wouldn't it be?” She looked away from him for a few moments before she stared into his eyes again.

“The first time, when I woke up on my own I was so scared that I'd just imagined what had happened. When I saw you in the Commons I knew that what I had thought had just been a dream was actually real. You'll never know how happy that realization made me.” Her voice, which had started very un-Lizzy like and meek, was now strong and confident as if the recollection had given her more courage and more time to get herself together. Darcy knew that he could proceed two ways – either he could say something very serious in response or he could alleviate some of the tension. He chose the latter option.

“Yes which I take it is the reason that you asked me that absolutely horrid question in front of my friends, enemies and the media?” She knew that he was teasing her.

“Of course. A woman likes to torment her lover!” She was giggling through the last bit and turned her face into the pillow to stifle the laughter. After several minutes of Lizzy's uncontrollable mirth she calmed down and glanced back up at Darcy. Then she looked at the pillow again. Slowly she picked it up and Darcy, realizing what she was going to do, reached for his own. She made the first move but Darcy was able to block it with his pillow. However he wasn't so lucky with the next shot – it hit him on the nose which only served to reduce Lizzy to laughter again.

“Elizabeth Bennet you're not going to get away with that!”

Whenever Darcy remembered that moment the one thing that stuck in his head was how happy she had been. The sounds of giggling and her mock screams filled his ears. And that particular memory could do nothing except make him smile.

A few hours later

Darcy had attempted to make Lizzy breakfast in bed but by the time that he had discovered where she kept the bread she was already dressed and down-stairs. She merely smirked at him and his disastrous attempts at finding anything in her kitchen.

“Having trouble?”

He looked up, exasperated. She saw with great joy that his previously neat and tidy appearance was now ruffled and his hair adorably tousled. “Well if you put things were one would expect them to be then perhaps you would have got breakfast in bed!”

She jumped up and sat on the edge of her table. “Oh you're talking about the bread thing.”

“Well it would make sense to have bread in the bread bin.”

“Instead of chicken I suppose?”

“Exactly!” He threw his hands up into the air and she smiled at him. She could have guessed that he would be a very organized person – she could only imagine what agonies he must have gone through upon finding that the bread was not in the right place!

“Why are you smiling at me? What have I done?” He had become aware of her attention and was becoming increasingly paranoid. Strange though, that he should be uncomfortable under someone's scrutiny: after all he had had camera following him around for the past six/seven years. She shook her head at him before standing back on the floor and walking over to him.

“Nothing Will. It's just..” she trailed off, unusually shy for once. “Do you want to have breakfast for something. Outside my house. I know a really good café just round the corner...” He hesitated and she saw it in his face. “You know never mind, you're busy being Mr PM aren't you? Wouldn't possibly lower yourself to be seen out with an opposition back-bencher!” She began to walk towards the back door and opened it. “Well I'll let you out this way. You won't be seen.” Her voice was full of sarcasm and Darcy understood how much he had hurt her, or offended her, or whatever he had done to make her act this way. Honestly, women!

“Lizzy you're twisting my actions, now listen to me. Of course I want to have breakfast with you, hence the rather awful attempt at making it for you.”

“But you don't want to be in my company, that's it isn't it? Well I must say that last night was fun and all but I'm not going to settle for some secret, seedy affair. If you want a relationship with me then you're going to have to loosen up a bit. Who gives a damn about what others think? In the end what say do they have in our lives? Nothing. And nothing that they say or do matters. So Will, what's it going to be? Me or the public persona?”

“Lizzy you're asking me to potentially jeopardize my political career.” She just gave him a hard look. The room was silent for a moment before Will strode towards the open door. “Well, are you coming or not?”

Darcy never knew that seeing someone like Lizzy smiling would give him so much pleasure. It seemed that nowadays all he wanted to do was please her. He knew that the decision he had made at her house – well it would barely qualify as one but it did have two floors and a bathroom – was a momentous one. And also one that he wasn't going to ponder over for any length of time at this point. It would not do for a man like him to do the unthinkable and unforgivable.

They were strolling down the street to Charlotte's Coffee Shop which, according to Lizzy, served the most delicious coffee ever in existence. Much better than anything you'd find in London. Darcy highly doubted that. What could a small village like this offer him that a thriving city could not? The idea was preposterous. However he wasn't going to tell this to Lizzy who had just about calmed down from earlier.

“So what kind of music do you like?”

“Pardon?”

“I asked you what kind of music you liked Will.” He could see that a smile was on the verge of breaking free.

“Oh. Music.”

“You do listen to it don't you?”

“Of course. And in response to your original question Miss Bennet-”

“That's Jane.” He stared at her in confusion and she realized that he was not in on the family joke. “My granddad, on dad's side of the family, is a big stickler for tradition. For as long as I can remember, Jane has been Miss Bennet and I'm now resigned to being called Miss Elizabeth for the rest of his days.” She gave a mock sigh.

“Not Miss Lizzy?”

“No Mr Darcy. That would be frivolous,” she replied dead-pan. He smirked in response. “I think he was mortified at my being a Labour MP. He's been a life-long Tory.”

“Glad to hear it. Anyway about the music...”

“Yes?”

“The Beatles.”

“Why The Beatles?”

“Well as the Prime Minister of Great Britain and Northern Ireland it is a matter of duty to be a fan of The Beatles. Anything else would be sacrilege.”

She burst our laughing. What a wonderful, magical sound that was! “Well I suppose it fits. Can't quite equate you as a Sex Pistols fan.” He shuddered at the mental image that her comment had triggered. “Although I do think it'd be fun to have a punk Prime Minister. Imagine the remarks.”

“Quite.”

“I like rock music you know. Oasis now there's an amazing band.”

“Please don't tell me that you like those foul mouthed Mancunians. They can't even sing!” She stopped mid-stride and turned to face him, her expression extremely serious.

“William Darcy! Don't you dare insult them! I'm actually astounded. You know if there's ever going to be anything between us then you better get better musical taste. Or else lie a lot.”

“I hate lying.”

“Exactly. God, Will. Get in touch with the younger generation. You might just find that some of them are pleasant to be around.” They started walking again until Lizzy stopped in front of a café. “Here it is. You remember Charlotte from last night? Did you meet her, even?”

Darcy tried to recall the events of the previous night. “Was she the one standing beside you when Caroline decided to make her affections, and I use the word loosely, known? Brown hair? Tall?”

“That's her. She's one of my best friends.”

“And makes the best coffee in the world?”

“You're learning fast. Good.”

Will was relieved to see that the café was empty and that the only member of staff there was the woman who he presumed to be Charlotte. Her face brightened up when she caught sight of Elizabeth and the only sign of surprise she made at seeing Darcy was a slight raising of one eye-brow.

“Hey Lizzy. Hello Mr Darcy.” She remembered his words, or lack thereof, to her father last night and decided to stick to the more formal approach.

“You can call me Will.”

Charlotte merely smiled slightly. “I'm Charlotte. What would you like to drink?”

Will found that he did like Charlotte's coffee and was even forced to admit that it was better than certain places in London. Grudgingly. Charlotte's open nature and honesty was refreshing after spending most of his life in a situation where one had to think on one's feet and where honesty was never really the best policy. Lizzy and he were in the middle of a heated debate about education when his mobile phone went off. He heard her chuckle when she recognized his ring tone. This was his personal phone and as such he had never expected it to ring when he was in an important meeting or press conference. And thank the Lord it hadn't because at that point in time Will's chosen tone was The Sex Pistols' “God Save the Queen”.

“Maybe we have got a punk PM after all.”

Will was deeply annoyed with whoever was on the other end of the phone. “Hello.” His tone was brisk and sharp before it mellowed a bit. “Yes Charles. I understand. I'll be back soon. Bye.” He turned back to Lizzy. “That was Charles. I have to go now. Listen, I'll call you later. Good-bye.” He threw some money down on the table before stomping out of the café.

He was out of the door before Lizzy had time to register what was happening. “But you don't even have my phone number.”

She had been about to get up and talk to Charlotte when another customer came in. He was good-looking, even more than Will was, and he certainly didn't look like a man who would leave her at the drop of a hat. He noticed her observing him and smirked to himself. Slowly he approached the table and sat down where Will had been sitting.

“Nice to meet you. I'm George Wickham.”

Author's note: Okay some things need to be explained I suppose. I presume everyone is aware of The Beatles. Oasis are an amazing northern rock band who produce the best songs ever! If you want to check out some of their work just type 'Oasis – the band' into a search engine. The Sex Pistols were a seventies punk group. The song 'God Save the Queen' was an obvious parody of the National Anthem. It's seen as an anti-monarchy song and has such lines as “God Save the Queen/ The Fascist regime”. Needless to say, I just presume that Will likes the song for the punk-ness of it. Also I do not own any of the aforementioned bands or songs.

Chapter Seven

Posted on Thursday, 22 December 2005

Will was cursing Charles for calling him. Unless nuclear war had been declared then he did not want to know and nor did he care. Things had been going so well with Elizabeth that morning – waking up with her had seemed like an unthinkable amount of bliss. She was extremely beautiful when she'd just woken – like she was at any other time. How am I meant to act like I don't know her at PMQs? Like there's nothing between us? Will knew that both questions didn't have answers at that moment but he would need to think of some. If Willoughby got wind of what had happened between him and Lizzy there would be hell to pay.

As he approached Netherfield he saw many cars parked outside. Then he realized that it was the press – he wondered if they had any reason to be here. Suddenly panic filled his body – what if it was about Georgiana? What if they'd found out about her relationship with the piece of scum? As the journalists became aware of his presence all that filled his mind was flashing cameras and the endless stream of questions which they barraged him with.

“How do you feel about-” The man was cut off in mid-flow when one of Will's bodyguards stepped in front of him. Charles was running towards him – red in the face and panting. Will's face must have told his friend about the confusion he felt for as Charles approached his hand was raised in the air, gesturing for Will to follow him which he duly did.

Soon they were in the relative tranquility of Netherfield again. All Charles did was give Will a look and walked into the study. The former sat down on one of the plush chairs which Caroline had recently bought. The only reason that they were there was because Charles had been trying to hide them from public view. They were absolutely hideous. Will remained standing and for a while neither man spoke. Will, although bursting with curiosity, wanted Charles to speak first but his friend appeared very hesitant to voice whatever it was had happened. The anger mingled with confusion and fear and propelled Will to speak.

“What on earth has happened that you felt the need to drag me away from-” He had been about to say from Lizzy but had thought better of it. “Charles whatever is the matter?”

The younger man took a deep breath and got up, began to walk round the room and eventually came to a stop at Will's side. “I know that it's not true-”

“What's not true?” Will demanded.

“Don't shout.”

“Then tell me.” Charles didn't vocally respond to Will's order but instead he picked up the remote control of the TV that was in the office and turned the television on. Will was about to comment that this was hardly a time for daytime programmes but was prevented from doing so when he saw that Netherfield was on the news. Underneath the live pictures there was the headline “PM in office scandal”.

As much as Will wanted to believe that there had been some miscalculation to do with paper clips or even better that Willoughby had done something awfully embarrassing he knew that to think any of these things would only mean that he was deluding himself. Soon the headline changed and more information was revealed. Will quickly read what had been written before collapsing onto the nearby sofa. As much as he was used to the absurd nature of the press the journalists still managed to surprise him sometimes. This story, for example, was a jewel. For his opponents of course. And for any bloody moral, anti-corruption group in the country.

“How could you even doubt that it was true Charles? You've been my best friend for more than a decade now – have I ever done anything that would even suggest that I would do such a thing?”

“Will I never meant to offend you but you had to know. And I couldn't tell you, you needed to see what the media were making with the story.” After Will didn't say anything else Charles piped up again. “I've got people trying to figure out where the information came from.”

“Information Charles? More like fairy-tale. And there's no point wasting time doing detective work. You and I both know who was responsible.”

“Maybe it wasn't-”

“Charles stop trying to see the best in people. It doesn't suit a politician. Of course it was Willoughby's doing.”

At that moment they heard an interview being carried out at the news centre's studio. Turning round to see Will was sadly not shocked to see that the interviewee was one Lucy Steele. Charles made a move to turn it off but Will stopped him. “No. We need to listen.”

“I'm now joined by Lucy Steele. She was previously an assistant to Edward Ferrars, Minister for Education. Lucy it's a pleasure to meet you. Now first thing's first, how did you find your experience at Westminster?”

The short, extremely attractive woman began to speak in a very melancholic voice which to Darcy's ears was completely false. “Well Steve, for the most part I enjoyed it immensely. Edward was very nice and sympathetic – the ideal boss, and for two years I worked away quietly and peacefully there.”

“And then what happened?”

“Well the Prime Minister came into Edward's office one day while Edward was absent. I told him that but to my astonishment he replied that he knew that. I asked him what he meant,” At this point tears started to form in Lucy's eyes. She really was a wonderful actress. “He said that he had come to the office to see me. He.....” she choked on a sob, and found herself unable to speak again. Really she deserved an Oscar!

“It's alright Lucy. Take as long as you want.” There was a barely discernible 'thank you' from the woman before she accepted a tissue from one of the production crew and wiped the crocodile tears away. Her mascara had not even smudged.

“He advanced on me and told me that I looked absolutely r-ravishing. I tried to get away, I really did but he held me in place. I couldn't run like I wanted to as my desk was behind me and the PM in front of me. I was t-t-terrified and I began to cry but he just sniggered and said that no matter how much I whimpered it would make no difference. In fact......In fact.....Oh I'm sorry. In fact he was getting very,” she paused for dramatic effect, “excited. I was so sure of what he was going to do to me that I gave up struggling and his hands crawled over me. I was disgusted and sickened. I mean how can a man who is supposed to be everyone's protector do something like that? Anyway at that point I heard the door opening and to my delight I saw that it was John Willoughby. He tore Mr Darcy off me and shoved him out the door. Then he took me in his arms and comforted me while I wept.” At this point the tears began anew. Will was staring at her in disbelief. How could she make up something like that? He'd never liked her, had always thought that there had been something suspicious about her but never in his wildest imaginings believed her to contain as much malice and poison as she had shown she had. “The only thing I can say is I know how Marianne Dashwood feels. To be so helpless like that – its worse than anything. I would like to commend her on how she's dealing with this. She's a lot braver than I am – and many other female MPs and secretaries.”

“What is it that you are saying Miss Steele?”

“I'm saying that I believe that there are copious amounts of women whom the Prime Minister has had his way with. I know for a fact that Anne Elliot is very close to him – more than just a platonic closeness. And there have even been rumours in Westminster that he has been the same brute to Frances Price, Edmund Bertram's close friend, as to me.”

“Thank you for that Lucy. I'm sure that it cost you a lot to do it.”

“It did. I only hope that my disclosure will make other women come forward. We cannot let Mr Darcy get away with this any longer.”

Thus the interview ended.

All Darcy could do was stare at Charles in shock. His friend too was completely lost for words. It was clear now.

This was war.

Only the devil could save Willoughby now.

Lizzy was completely unaware of these developments. Her mind was focused on two things. The first that Will Darcy could be an absolute enigma at times, and the second that George Wickham – who she was currently conversing with – was a complete charmer.

“And so I told the President - “you can't do that! What about the rights of the people?”. Of course he didn't want to know: I am after all only a lowly reporter.” Lizzy was nodding silently with George's words. He may have over exaggerated a little but the moral was there all the same. He continued, “If only the Prime Minister would have listened to me as well, but in true fashion he was only concerned about the big businesses and oil companies and all those stuffy world leaders.” Lizzy was slightly confused. This man who George was describing sounded nothing like the one that she knew who had the Sex Pistols as his ring tone. However she was beginning to feel that maybe George was over-stepping the mark somewhat. She knew Will much better than she knew the man in front of her and if pushed would always fight in Will's defense.

“He was probably just busy at the time. Imagine the stress he must have to cope with – I don't think that anyone would be able to be calm and collected every hour of every day. It's impossible.” He shrugged at her words and offered her a slight smile.

“I suppose I'll have to agree with you and try and put my past with Will out of my mind.” Elizabeth was about to question him as to why he was calling Will by his nickname – instead of William or Mr Darcy or even Darcy – but was prevented from doing so when Charlotte came back into the customer area and turned on the television with a worried, “I think you need to see this” to Lizzy.

The channel was showing footage of Netherfield and as Lizzy read the words on the screen which were accompanying the pictures she felt like she was living in some sort of bizarre world. It read: Darcy and 17 year old in scandalous office affair. She felt like all the oxygen had been beaten from her lungs, like her mind could not function properly. This could not be true. Will wouldn't do that, wouldn't abuse his power like that. He couldn't. He wasn't that sort of man. And who was the 17 year old? But surely there had to be some truth in the allegations? She shuddered when that last thought entered her mind and immediately reprimanded herself for thinking such a thing. The man whom she had spent two nights with would never, ever do that?

Would he?

There was only one way to find out.

She would have to go to Netherfield and talk to him.

Going to Netherfield had seemed like a good option half an hour ago but when she had remembered about the press she was presented with another problem. How would she actually get in and see him without being branded one of his floozies? Lizzy parked the car at an out-look point and when she turned the engine off she was left in confused silence. She'd had to turn off the radio when she'd started the journey as all that was being discussed was Will's alleged affair. They were all saying that he was the British Clinton. There had only been the option of listening to some serious feminist show where they were grumbling about his actions as if he had brought about the end of the world, or another where the presenter – a man in his early twenties – was congratulating the Prime Minister on being such a good player. That had been the final straw and if the radio had of been removable it would have ended up in a field somewhere, broken and severely mauled.

She got out her mobile phone and dialed Will's number. There might be more success in him getting to her than the other way round. Just as she was about to hang up the phone was answered. “Hello?” Will's voice filtered through. He sounded like he had just been tortured. He probably had in one way or another.

“I need to speak to you.”

“Where?”

“I'm on Millet's Road, just overlooking the pond.”

“I'll be there in a few minutes. Bye.” He hung up and Lizzy was left shaking for reasons that she couldn't understand. She let out a shuddered breath and ran her hands through her hair. Why did she have to fall in love with the Prime Minister?

Wait.

Fall in love?

When did that happen?

Why it happened would be more to the point. Of all the stupid, idiotic things to do I've only fallen in love with him. Lizzy!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

She saw him running towards her car and without wondering how he escaped the paparazzi (no one had followed him) she opened the car door. He got in and slumped in the chair, slightly out of breath, before straightening himself.

“Who is she?”

“What?”

“This seventeen year old. Who is she?”

“It doesn't matter. I didn't do anything.”

She had been staring out of the windscreen but with his last words she whirled around and faced him. All she saw was exasperation on his face. However she needed to find out the facts. “Will don't do that to me. What's her name? Where does she come from? How do you know her?”

Will had apparently realized that resistance to Lizzy's questions was futile and after taking a large breath he began explaining. “Her name's Marianne Dashwood. Her family used to be quite rich but upon her father's death their wealth declined. She was doing work experience in Charles' office – Edward Ferrars knows her – and that is all that happened. I merely see her as a girl working in my best friend's office. That's all.”

“So you didn't make any advances on her?”

“No Lizzy! Why won't you believe me? If anything it was Willoughby who seduced her – she was always mooning about over him!”

“I didn't know you took that much interest in the romantic aspects of your best friend's temporary staff's lives. Honestly Will stop lying!”

“I'm telling you the truth” Silence filled the car again before Will added, “I can't believe that you don't trust me enough to believe what I say. You know what you're not the girl I thought you were.”

“And you're not the man I thought you were. Now get out of my car. Now!” He slammed the door as he exited and she watched him as he ran out of her sight, angry tears running down her cheeks. Whatever they may have had, whatever revelation she had come to was all null and void. Their tempers had gotten the best of them and now things were irrevocably ruined.

She had driven back to the café where George was still sitting in and accosted him with only one question, “How do you know Will?”

He merely smiled at her gently and began telling her of his history with Will. “He and I were boyhood friends – my father and his were very close and each trusted the other implicitly. The same was said for Will and I until we went to university. You see, throughout school he'd been gradually isolating me from him – I wasn't rich enough or snobby enough for his liking. When we went to the same university – with financial aid from his father for me – we found that we were sharing the same accommodation. Naturally I was over-joyed to be rooming with my best friend but soon it became clear that Will wasn't at all happy at sharing with me. Over time his habits, especially with women, got worse. He was becoming a player. Any woman that attracted him had no chance escaping him. He pursued them relentlessly. To my utmost shame I did nothing to stop him. Instead I turned a blind eye. That is,” he paused. “Until my younger sister became involved with him. She was so happy and pretty and had always adored Will – he'd made her laugh. When they got into a relationship she was only 17 – like Miss Dashwood. At first I hoped that she would change him but it didn't as Dani found out. One evening she came to the dorm – Will was out – in floods of tears. And I'm not exaggerating Lizzy. She poured her heart out and I discovered that that piece of swine Will Darcy had let her find him in bed with another woman. You can imagine my anger and I stormed round to his family's house demanding to see him. All I got was a right hook. He didn't even apologize – or attempt to apologize. Dani never saw him again – she's living in California now and slowly getting over the disappointment. Although I fear that Will might have ruined her forever.” He finished and wiped tears from his eyes. He was obviously moved by what he had told Lizzy. The latter's anger towards Will had not diminished and she was all too willing to believe George's words.

“How come you didn't tell the press when he became an MP? Or even when he was elected as the Prime Minister?”

“I wanted to believe me, but Dani persuaded me not to. She didn't want her name dragged through the papers although I have a suspicion that it was more because she was still in love with him.” They were both quiet until Lizzy stood up and moved towards him. Slowly she leaned down and kissed him on the lips. As the kiss deepened George withdrew. “Perhaps we shouldn't. I know about your relationship with Will. I wouldn't want you to regret this in the morning.”

Lizzy silenced him with another kiss. “Stop talking and take me to bed.”

He did as any man would do. Grasping her by the waist he led her out of the café and into his car. Following her directions he drove to her house and somehow, despite smothering each other with kisses, they got out of the car and went inside.

Continued in Next Section