Beginning, Section II, Next Section

Chapter Eight

Posted on Friday, 30 December 2005

George's attentions to her became more intense and passionate, but Lizzy was left feeling strangely empty as if her body knew that she shouldn't be doing this. As he placed her on the bed Elizabeth's sense and rational mind kicked in – she could not sleep with George Wickham and definitely not in this bed. Only twenty four hours ago it had been Will she had been in this position with and everything had seemed so right and perfect, everything which this encounter with George was proving not to be. His hand slid under her top and at the feel of his skin against hers she recoiled and tried to get away, tried to get him to stop. But he wouldn't. She struggled to free herself from his embrace but to no avail, she kicked him and tried to hit him but he was too strong. He became more violent in his attentions to her and in turn Lizzy struggled even more fiercely against him. Eventually she managed to escape him and ran to the door of her room, ready to bolt if he didn't give his pursuit of her up. Lizzy glanced hesitantly at the bed and saw with relief that George was lying sprawled out on her bed and it seemed as though he wasn't going to follow her. For that she was grateful, exceedingly grateful.

“What was that about?”

“Pardon?” The shock of him speaking had reduced Lizzy to one word sentences.

“You heard me. You led me on, told me that I'd get lucky with you tonight. Now did you have an attack of conscience? Or perhaps it was the thought that your darling Will Darcy might hear of it – he wouldn't forgive you after that I think we both know it.”

“It was only a kiss, and he would understand I'm sure of it.”

George got up and prowled towards her, this time Lizzy was determined not to be intimidated by him and so she stood her ground. As he came closer she could smell the strong aftershave which hung around him mixed with the stench of cheap perfume. She wondered whose it was. Probably some tart off the street. “Will won't see it like that, you see he's a very possessive man. He won't want you any more when he discovers what you did – and who you did it with,” he leered.

“You're lying,” She wanted so much to think that he was but she knew the kind of man Will was: he was protective and she could imagine him as the jealous type. He would be disgusted with her wouldn't he? All she'd be would be another of those women who had accused him of taking advantage of his position and he would hate her for it. Why shouldn't he? After all Lizzy had always been one to hate sycophants and Will didn't really know her – he knew her body but she was afraid that he did not yet comprehend her soul. And he hadn't met her family properly yet: although maybe that was a good thing, she was sure that her mother and Lydia especially would mortify her to no end. Suddenly she was brought harshly back to reality when she felt George's hand on her neck and as he leaned further in she was able to feel his hot breath against her skin. Unlike earlier when she had been so mad at Will that she had been willing to do anything to forget about him, the touch revolted her as a result of George's evil words. And all she could think about was Will. There was nothing more she wanted to do than run to him and tell him everything and have him comfort her but she knew that things wouldn't be the same if she did. Lizzy remembered what she had heard him say at a press conference one time – she couldn't remember the question he had been asked but the answer remained etched in her brain: My good opinion once lost is lost forever.

He would never forgive her if he knew what she had been meaning to do that night, and that fact might just be the end of her.

Will was likewise in a state of unease after his conversation with Lizzy, or blazing row would be a more appropriate choice of words if he was being completely honest with himself. However he had not turned to another woman, despite Caroline's incessant hinting that she was available. After hearing the allegations of his abusing his position she had jumped to his defense stating that she would telephone the papers and tell them about Will's relationship with herself so all the allegations would have to be withdrawn. Will did not point out the obvious flaws in her plan but George Knightley (who had journeyed there from London) had. She had been extremely put out and Will had to smirk at how her face had managed to contort itself into the perfect image of his aunt Lady Catherine de Bourgh. Although it was scary at the same time as he knew that Caroline would never give up her pursuit of him and that it was not outside the realms of possibility for her to enter his room at night in an attempt to force herself on him. He definitely did not want to wake up and see a copy of his aunt's face staring back at him. That might be enough to send him to get therapy for the next decade or two.

Anyway Will was engaged in a rather pleasanter pursuit than Lizzy – whiskey. Charles always kept a very good supply of it wherever he went and not for the first time was Will exceedingly pleased by the fact. The hot liquid burned the back of his throat and it was strangely satisfying. He fully intended to drink himself into a drunken stupor that night although he expected that Knightley would attempt to take the alcohol away. The man had too much sense for his own good.

“You know that alcohol won't help the situation Will, so why do you turn to it when there's trouble? All it does it clouds your judgment.”

“Says a person who doesn't drink the stuff. I'm surprised you know – I've always assumed that politics would drive anyone to drink.”

“Well then why did you get involved in it then?”

“You know why Knightley. Because I'm a fool.”

George Knightley moved towards Will, stood in front of the fireplace for a while before coming to sit on a chair opposite him. He leaned forward with a very serious expression on his face. “You're not a fool Will, a bit proud at times but no fool. I do remember one of the papers saying a few weeks ago that you were one of the best PMs in history.”

“Useless waffle. I was merely lucky enough to inherit the country at a suitably stable period in its history. Just coincidence.”

“Will don't belittle yourself.” Knightley paused for a few minutes. “And you can't let Willoughby think he's won. Imagine the look on his face if he finds out the state you're in now. We have to rout him, find out where he got that Marianne girl from – how he managed to manipulate her to say what she did.” Will let out a bitter chuckle.

“You believe me then.”

Knightley looked at him strangely before answering, “Of course I do. You don't honestly think that I would take the media's word over yours. I've known you for years – I know your character. But-” Will glanced up at him, cynicism written in his face.

“But what?”

“I do think there's more to your despondent state than Willoughby demonstrating that he is in fact a complete and utter git.”

Will looked into the fire. He couldn't reply to Knightley who damnably knew him far too well – too knowledgeable at times. Even Bingley had not figured out that there was something else that was bothering him. “How did you know?”

“Because William Darcy I can read you like an open book, for some strange reason. And, I confess that if I am correct in my assumption of your other problem then I find that I share the same trouble.”

Will looked up, filled with curiosity. He wondered if, for the first time ever, George Knightley had mistaken him. The chance of it was exceedingly low but it was still possible, he could not imagine the sensible, wise man in front of him caring so much for a woman that he was unable to think of anything or anyone else. However he took a deep breath and began his story. “Her name is Elizabeth, or Lizzy as she prefers to be called, and she's the most amazing woman I have ever met. It seems that everything she does, everything she aims to do, is to make life better and to spread happiness.” He paused, “She makes me happy. So unbelievably, indescribably happy that all I can think of is her, and how I could not live without her, cannot imagine life without her in it. Even if she hates me, which she probably does now, at least I'd be so fortunate as to see her nearly everyday – see her succeed.”

“Why would she hate you?” Knightley's voice was gentle, understanding.

“This absurd affair – possibly the wrong choice of word in this scenario. We talked yesterday and I confess that I don't think she believed me – she questioned me about the girl, I lost my temper and things spiraled out of both our controls. She basically chucked me out of her car.”

“So she lives around here then. Well as long as she isn't the girl that Bingley keeps harking on about then I'm sure that everything'll turn out fine in the end.”

Will put his glass down on the table and looked Knightley straight in the eye, “Don't patronize me George.”

“George? You never call me George.”

“I have,” he stopped for a moment, searching for the correct word, “issues with the name. Very old and established issues. I thought a change was in order.” Both men sat in silence unwilling to continue with a subject that was so painful to Will. Knightley did honestly believe that things would be fine for his friend – he had always had the luck of the devil and he knew he should have it still. On the other hand Will was wondering what he would have to do to make amends with Lizzy: it seemed as though she had a ridiculously volatile temper and contrasted with his preference for keeping his emotions to himself he believed that things would never be simple between them. Then he remembered that Knightley had said something about having the same problem as Will did, and he was not going to let the man continue keeping that pain locked up inside. As much as Will hated confronting his own feelings – or even worse being forced to confront them by others – he saw the wisdom in it and if it was possible he would try and enable his friend to have the same relative peace of mind. “Was my problem similar to yours then?” Knightley looked rather surprised as he raised his head to answer Will.

“Yes. Similar, not identical though.”

“Tell me about it. And don't say that you can't because we both know that you aren't a hypocrite.”

George took a deep breath and fidgeted with the fabric of the chair, trying to stall for time somehow. Eventually he started to speak, “Her name's Emma. She's the sister of my brother's wife – they married 5 years ago, and Emma has been one of my closest friends for as long as I can remember. The problem is that she can never, will never, see me as anything but that while I find that with each day that passes she grows dearer to me. Now there's a bloke – Frank Churchill – who she is enamoured with, maybe she even loves him, and I find that I still cannot give her up – can't stop thinking about her. And it's ever so slowly driving me mad. There now, are you satisfied?” The question was not posed bitterly and so Will took no offence at it, instead Knightley's speech had struck a chord in himself – it was remarkable that a man who always appeared so happy and in control of his emotions could have such a pain within.

“Well Knightley it seems as though we have saved ourselves rather a lot of money tonight, and we have been blessed that we do not need to see Caroline's therapist. I do believe that that is the best news that I have heard in years.” Both men started to laugh at Will's comment and soon the atmosphere was considerably lighter than it had been when Knightley had entered the room. Will's thoughts turned to exactly how he was going to trap the rat that was John Willoughby. “Who can I count on for their support against Willoughby, Knightley?”

The other man turned his mind to the complex politics that made up the Cabinet and quickly answered with a string of names, most of which Will had already assumed that he could trust. “Anne'll definitely do it – she hates Willoughby, Charles of course, I think we'll have Edward Ferrars' support – he won't have liked being dragged into the press like that, and Christopher Brandon. For some reason Chris seems to detest Willoughby even more than we do, however it is not my place to pry into others' lives. It's rather the sort of thing Emma would enjoy.” at Will's questioning look he expanded on what he had said, “Sometimes I believe that it is her mission in life to get everyone married off, honestly it's the kind of behaviour you'd expect from an old wife not from a twenty year old whom everybody loves.”

“Perhaps she's bored.”

Knightley just snorted, “Perhaps she's just nosy. Bored my eye, Emma Woodhouse would never have time to be bored.”

“Well Knightley I do believe that we ought to get busy. After all we mustn't let John have all the fun.”

Lizzy was still in a state of shock following her actions the previous night. Having attempted to fall asleep and forget about the whole ideal she found it very difficult to do, all she could smell was the overbearing aftershave which George Wickham had left on the pillows. Finally she decided that if she was going to get any sleep that night she would have to change the covers: she did not want various George Wickham's invading her dream-world. She would much prefer Will Darcys. However despite changing the sheets she still couldn't sleep: the memory of what George had said to her as he left replayed in her head. He had assured her that no matter how offensive she found his actions he was still telling the truth: that Will had used many women before and that if she wanted proof then all she had to do was ask. She didn't know who to believe. Her gut instinct, or rather her heart, said that Will was the trustworthy one, but there was something so earnest in George's expression and in his manners – he really seemed to hate Will. He wouldn't hate his former friend for no apparent reason. Lizzy merely groaned into her pillow and turned on the television hoping to find something half-way bearable to watch to take her mind off the dreadful situation she was in. However it wasn't very comforting when the first thing she came across was a programme about 'Will Darcy – noble or naughty?' and the second being 'Is your partner telling the truth? Lie detector tests revealed'. At that point she had chucked the remote at the TV and closed her eyes in a vain attempt to get out of this mess.

The next day was the traditional Bennet family meal – otherwise known to Lizzy, Jane, their father and (she suspected) Mary as the dreaded day from hell. Part Two. Frances Bennet – or what she preferred now Fran – would insist upon having all her daughters round for a 'traditional Sunday roast'. However more often than not it was the eldest daughters who cooked while their mother babbled on about Catherine Lucas next door and her latest ways to embarrass the Bennets and the two youngest sisters prattled on about boys at school. Mary, being the very prudent and sane one in the family, merely retreated to her bedroom with a pile of school book while Mr Bennet was a recluse in his library. As a result Jasmine was often left unsupervised, and that was something which Lizzy hated with every ounce in her body. Lydia really should take better care of her daughter.

Jane had told Lizzy last week that she would call round to her house and they would arrive together, but it was ten minutes after her elder sister had said that she would come and Lizzy was getting worried. Finally, just as she was about to ring hospitals – or Jane's permanently 'off' mobile at the very least – the lost sister returned. Jane was looking pretty as she always did but there was something about her clothes and make-up and her whole air altogether that made her suspicious.

“Jane why are you so late?”

“Can I come in Lizzy?”

“Sure. What's the matter?”

Jane fiddled with the clasp on her back nervously, determined not to look at her sister. “Well you see Lizzy I've invited Charles to lunch.”

“Today?”

“You don't want to meet him?” Jane sounded very worried, she needn't have been afraid of her sister's reaction but, in Lizzy's opinion, of her mother's.

“Jane I'd love to meet him, from what I can tell he's a lovely man. But mother...She's going to be a little – excited, about this.”

“I know, but I really like him Lizzy. Really I do. He's the best man I have ever known and he always seems to be able to make me happy. I want to let him meet mama and the family so he can know me better. Can you understand that?”

“I can Jane.” However even if she could understand some of the motivation behind Jane's decision, she could not see the sense in it. If it had been Lizzy in the situation going out with Will then nothing would have made her more determined for him not to meet her mother. Or at the very least warn him excessively about her behaviour beforehand, something which Lizzy knew that her sister hadn't. That was such an admirable fault in Jane that she always believed the best in people, but Lizzy much preferred to be a cynic. It left you open to less disappointments.

“He's going to meet us at the house. Oh Lizzy, things will go well, won't they?”

“Of course Jane.”

What was a little white lie between sisters?

They arrived at the house more or less on time and Lizzy had to roll her eyes when Jane started to get very excitable when Charles' car came into view. For the whole journey she had had to endure, Charles this and Charles that. Although it was very distracting and she had managed not to think of Will for the majority of the car drive. As soon as the car stopped Jane jumped out of the car and ran over to Charles. In typical excitable Jane fashion she had forgotten her coat and the pre-cooked chicken which the sisters had learnt was an absolute necessity after an incident when their mother had invited the all her friends and even those she was not so friendly with around for tea. However she had had nothing cooked or even in the fridge. The resulting supermarket dash was something that would live in Lizzy and Jane's minds forever.

She leaned back and grabbed the items off the back seat and attempted to get out of the car. It was extremely difficult as she had to keep hold of a chicken, Jane's favourite knee length coat, a bottle of wine, some chocolates and her car keys. After trying many different ways of opening the door (with all failed equally miserably) she was about to call Jane for help. Then she found the car door being opened and, assuming it was either Jane or Charles, looked up to thank them. The words were barely out of her mouth when she saw who it was who had helped her out.

It was Will.

Chapter Nine

Posted on Monday, 16 January 2006

Will was having second thoughts about coming to see Lizzy. Actually scratch that, he was having fourteenth thoughts about traveling to Longbourn and he suspected that had it not been for Knightley ordering Charles not to let Will out of his sight, he would be on the road to Pemberley by now. As he opened the car door he knew that she didn't realize it was him – maybe there was still time to escape, but when he caught sight of her all thoughts of fleeing vanished. She was absolutely beautiful and, spurred on by an urgent desire to repair their relationship, he took some of the stuff that she was carrying. However Lizzy reacted very differently than Will had expected her to, only replying to him with a rather shy smile and – much to his dismay – she would not look at him.

“Thank you Will.”

“No problem. Do you want me to bring these inside? Charles and your sister seem to be a little preoccupied.” A little preoccupied might have been a slight understatement, Will thought as he glanced at his friend and saw Charles and Jane behaving like foolish teenagers. He heard Lizzy laugh a little and immediately his gaze switched to her.

“She really likes him you know,” she said.

“He seems to 'really like her' too. Well, lead the way Miss Bennet!”

She appeared to have realized that the food would indeed need to be transferred from the driveway to the kitchen and so proceeded to walk into the house. Will was absolutely shocked at what he found when he entered. There were clothes hanging on the banister and some had dropped onto the top stairs – all of them seemed to be violently pink and were things that Will would hope never to see Georgiana wear. As they entered the living room, or what Will presumed was the living room – he could hardly see the sofas as a result of the clutter – he observed a stash of toys in one corner, a pile of magazines in the other and two teenage girls sitting on the seats watching what Will could only presume was a boy-band's extremely dreadful pop video. Will had never been a pop fan himself and the sight of five men all in varying states of partial nudity was not something that he wished to subject himself to again.

“Lydia, Kitty are you two going to sit in front of the TV the whole day?” Lizzy received no answer so obviously the girls were going to do just that. “Thank you for that lovely welcome. I must say it's lovely to be greeted so warmly by your sisters!” That sarcastic remark certainly roused one of the girls into action. She was a tall, thin girl who had dyed her hair blonde in an effort to simulate one of her sister's – or so Will thought. It could just as well have been some sort of fashion statement. Come to think of it Caroline had been saying something about highlights recently...

“Hi Lizzy how're...” The girl stopped and her mouth opened in shock. “You're Will Darcy, the Prime Minister, aren't you?” He instantly felt uncomfortable at the attention but nodded his head in assent. The girl positively beamed, “That's so cool! Lyds, Lizzy's brought home the Prime Minister!” Will saw the woman beside him colour with embarrassment.

“Will this is Kitty, Kitty – Will. Or would you prefer William, or Mr Darcy?” She looked at him questioningly. It seemed as though she was a little unsure about her family and him being within speaking distance.

“Will's fine.”

“Good. Anyway that ungracious lump on the sofa is my youngest sister Lydia.”

“Hi Lydia.” Lydia merely snorted in response. This was a very strange family. Lizzy led him into what he discovered was the kitchen – a very quaint room with some very...interesting...aspects to it, especially the pictures of pigs which were hung up on the walls. He wondered if Mrs Bennet had been brought up on a farm. Lizzy told him to dump the stuff down on the counter tops and then proceeded to put the chicken in a cupboard which she almost had to force shut due to the amount of biscuits and chocolate shoved in it. At his curious look she just said that, “It's a house with four women in it – what do you expect?” She went back out into the living room and asked Kitty where her mother was.

“She's upstairs having one of her episodes again. Mary's up there with her supposedly calming her down but by now mum's probably managed to get her riled up about that inane rubbish she bizarrely likes to read.”

“Mary's studying religion and philosophy at university,” Lizzy whispered to Darcy as she passed him. He saw that she was heading up the stairs and very nearly had a panic attack. Surely she wasn't going to leave him here with teenagers was she? It seemed very much like she had and after listening to the girls' chatter for a few tedious minutes he prayed that Charles and Jane would come inside soon. Then again hypothermia could set in before either of them would be any the wiser. Then he heard something fall and looked round to see what it was.

The noise did not come from an 'it' as Will had expected, but from a little girl who had collapsed onto the floor. She was adorable and he remembered her from the meeting with Lizzy when he had just arrived at Netherfield. She was beginning to cry now, and Will felt extremely awkward about it as although he was a good ten years his sister's senior, he had still been too young to care for her needs and comfort her. If only Mrs Reynolds was here now she'd know what to do. However Will didn't have to worry for a long time as Kitty came and scooped up the child into her arms and soon the tears vanished, replaced by happy giggling. He presumed that since the little girl had called Lizzy 'Auntie Lizzy' and because Kitty was looking after her now that she was Kitty's daughter. Rather young to be having a child at – he thought that Kitty was at least eighteen and that the girl was around two – but he supposed that she had been over the age of consent when she had gotten pregnant.

Just then Lizzy came downstairs and to Will's expert eye she appeared to be verging on homicidal. “Lydia what do you think you're doing? Your daughter's bawling her eyes out and all you do is lounge about and watch rubbish TV! If you want to be taken seriously, if you want to be treated as an adult then act like one and take care of your daughter!” Will was taken aback. The child was Lydia's, he never would have guessed it, never would have expected it. However it was clear and although he tried not to let it affect his opinion of Lizzy, her family automatically diminished in his estimation. What kind of parents would let their child run around and get pregnant at such a young age? Then again they had raised Lizzy and Jane didn't appear to be that bad either, but there might be millions of skeletons in the Bennet family closet just like this one.

“Will, I'm sorry. I didn't realize that you were standing there.”

“It's fine, I think I know what you're feeling now.” Lizzy didn't answer him immediately, instead she took the child from Kitty, went to the kitchen, beckoned for him to come with her and then shut the door tightly behind them.

“I know what you're feeling now. You're wondering what you've got yourself into and how quickly you can make your escape from my lovely family.” He could not deny it, it was true but he would never insult Lizzy by telling her that. So he opted to go for the more diplomatic answer.

“I don't think any less of you now, or Jane for that matter. And Kitty seems a nice girl too – she did help...What's her name?”

Lizzy smiled softly and cuddled the child, “This is Jasmine, she'll be two and a half in September. Please don't think badly of her because of when she was conceived. Lydia may have been foolish but I wouldn't give up this little one for all the world.” She placed a soft kiss on Jasmine's head.

“She's just a baby Lizzy. Of course I don't think badly of her.”

At that moment Jane and Charles appeared, having taken the sensible option and come through the back door which led into the kitchen. Jane looked inquiringly at Lizzy and then realized what was happening. “Lizzy do you want me to take Jasmine? You can get the dinner ready and I'll see to her. I'll be in the nursery if you need me. Charles are you coming?” Charles did not want to be parted from his dearest Jane and so he followed her, it seemed as though he knew about Jasmine's existence. Well Will supposed he had known before as well but in all the commotion of the past few days he had forgotten her. When Lizzy and he were left alone she began to speak in a hushed voice.

“Lydia got involved with some boy from her school – he was the same age as she was – and they were both foolish enough to forget about – well, protection. Then nine very stressful and chaotic months in the Bennet house later Jasmine was born. We never see her father – I don't think his parents really want to know. I just thought that if you were going to stay for dinner then you'd want to know the entire story.”

“You want me to stay for dinner?” Will's spirits had rocketed when he heard the last sentence if what she had said.

“If you don't mind, I mean I bet you have plans with all the media speculation and everything.”

“I'd love to stay Lizzy. And by the way I'm thinking of suing that news channel for slander and Willoughby very possibly for libel.” She nodded and he felt a flutter of hope stir in his chest. “You believe me now, don't you?”

“I do,” the words were very quiet, barely audible in fact, but they were there and nothing made Will happier than the knowledge that she believed in him, trusted him. Perhaps it was time to let go of that Darcy of the past – the one who was generally thought arrogant and proud when in fact he was only frightened about how others would act towards him.

“What made you change your mind?”

“It doesn't matter, I just had a few revelations that's all.” He wanted to press the matter, wanted to know what had improved her opinion of him but he knew that she would not react well to such prodding and so he left the matter alone. Anyway he could discern wailing noises which he knew were not from a baby and then laughter straight after, as Lizzy walked out of the kitchen he could only wonder again at the strange nature of this family.

Eventually they sat down to Sunday dinner and such a mixture of people Will had rarely met in the same place before. On his right was Mary Bennet, a very serious young woman who was studying at Cambridge and he was certain that if they were thrown into company together more often then they would get along splendidly. To his left was Lizzy and opposite him, still with a look of awe on her face, was Kitty. Lydia and Fran Bennet, their mother, were the only ones who didn't really seem to know or care who he was which although refreshing, grew tiresome extremely quickly after Mrs Bennet asked him several times if he was rich. It was only the feel of Lizzy's hand in his that calmed him down – he thought that he had escaped all this when he had left London and especially when he had been separated from Caroline Bingley but it seemed as though he was not that fortunate. He sensed that Mary was curious as well about his job but that she had no desire to further the subject, indeed he could tell that she was extremely annoyed to be sitting beside her mother and should have felt guilty that it was probably because of him and Charles that she was in her vicinity but could not bring himself to have a conscience on that particular matter. Mr Bennet was an eccentric old man and Will knew that he would be addressing the elder man by his title for a considerable amount of time. He seemed to find pleasure in poking fun at his family – especially his wives and younger daughters, and although Will could understand why the man had the need to do so (it was surely an effort to save his sanity after being married to his wife for nearly 25 years) he did not see why such critique should happen in public. However the father appeared to genuinely love his two eldest daughters and his grand-daughter – at least in this his judgment was sound.

“So how's university going Mary?” Jane asked once talk of money had died down a little.

“It's fine. My Professor is really nice he says that if I have any problems or I want to talk to him about anything then I should go to him immediately.” Lydia made a crude comment which immediately earned her the censure of Jane and Lizzy.

“And how are you doing with your A-levels Kitty?” Jane was again attempting to improve the atmosphere around the table.

“It's really interesting although I really don't know why I chose to do Maths.”

“Because the teacher's a cutey, Kitty, and you've had a crush on him for years, that's why.” Kitty protested but Lydia's claim was proven to be true when she started to blush uncontrollably.

An uncomfortable silence formed and everyone seemed to be taking pains to eat the remainder of their dinner. It was very good and Will wondered whether Lizzy or Jane was a chef. Whoever had cooked the meal was exceptionally talented. He was just about to ask this when Lizzy said that there was desert for anybody who wanted it.

“Oh thanks Lizzy that'd be great!” However just as Lizzy was about to stand up Lydia began telling something to the entire table which in Will's view should have been reserved solely for the ears of her sister.

“You'll never guess what mum. I've got a boyfriend!” The ecstasies which this sent Mrs Bennet into surprised Will, why would anyone be happy about their children slowly losing their innocence? He could only imagine what he would do if Georgiana brought someone home and declared that she was madly in love with him. Although technically she had done that before.

“Who is it dear? Anyone I know? That boy in Sixth form that you and Kitty keep talking about maybe.”

“No mum,” Lydia looked very pleased that her mother was unable to guess who her beau was. Chancing a look at the other people at the table he saw that Lizzy was sitting in silent mortification, Mr Bennet was looking amused at this foolery and as usual Jane and Charles were caught up in their own world.

“Well tell us all who he is!” Mrs Bennet's voice had suddenly become shriek-like.

“He's older than me. In fact he's left school ages ago – isn't that so cool? Anyway he says that I'm beautiful and gorgeous and a thousand other things which I can't remember now. We're going out on a date tomorrow – he phoned today and arranged it. I think that there was some other woman earlier this week because he seems more friendly towards me now. She was probably some old tramp who was clinging on to his youth. Oh he's really hunky!” Mrs Bennet and indeed Kitty (smashing any notion that Will had about her sense) were in hysterics now. The latter managed to stop shrieking long enough to ask for his name. “You want his name? Should I be jealous Kitty – do you want to steal him?”

“No Lydia, honestly I don't!”

“Well all right if you really want to know,” Will got the impression that she was enjoying drawing out this little secret but he did not find it amusing at all. The older man situation was all to reminiscent of the trouble his own sister had gotten herself into last year. “His name's George. George Wickham. Don't you just love the name?” Will was beyond shocked, stunned maybe – unable to move would do better justice to the emotions he was feeling right now. How had Wickham managed to ingratiate himself into Will's life again? Why was he now linked with Lizzy, however unwanted the connection was? The clatter of a knife dropping interrupted his panicked thoughts and he turned round and saw that Lizzy had dropped said item of cutlery on the ground. Her face was pale and for a moment he thought that she was going to faint – maybe she had heard of Wickham and his reputation, he was in the media after all.

“Does anyone want desert?” She asked in a very un-Lizzy-like, weak voice. Charles and Jane said that they did and when applied to Will agreed as well. It was obvious that she wanted to escape the confines of the table and the topic of conversation. However as she rushed out of the dining room towards the kitchen he realized that there must be something more to her behaviour than just the shock of a sister going out with an older man. Without caring what anyone thought of him he got up and followed her. When he entered the kitchen he saw her standing against one of the counters with her hands covering her face. As she realized his presence she quickly removed her hands but Will could see tear tracks on her cheeks and wetness in her eyes. However much this sight tore at his heart, he would not be deterred.

“How do you know Wickham?”

Chapter Ten

Posted on Saturday, 11 February 2006

“How do you know Wickham?” Will was getting annoyed now and he didn't care if Lizzy saw it. She had to know about Wickham, why else would she react that way? His initial desire to learn what was affecting her had soon been overcome by the rage and anxiety which had become inextricably linked to his former friend's name. The blinding anger which he now felt was clouding – no, fogging – his judgment, his ability to see sense. In fact all logic had flown out the window when he realized that there was something more to Lizzy's reaction than met the eye.

“W-what? I don't know him, why would I?”

“Lizzy, tell me.” He wouldn't raise his voice, not to her, but the underlying feeling was clear – he would not tolerate any lies. She was silent for a while but when she looked up at him and saw the pain and the concern in his eyes she began speaking again.

“Promise you won't get angry?” For a very slight moment some of the rage within him started to diminish at the sight of such a defeated woman in front of him. He knew that if this matter had concerned anyone but Wickham he would not have pressed her for any more information than she was willing to give.

“I can't promise that.”

“Sit down.” He would not. To sit down would be to declare himself a weak man, a man who could not handle the truth, and if there was one thing Will prided himself on – in both his public and political life – it was that he could take any criticism, no matter how personal. However he understood that with this woman, and with that man being the topic of conversation, his principals would be as loose as the morals of a street-walker. Lizzy noticed that he wasn't going to sit down and a slight feeling of indignation crept up inside her. But it strengthened her and so she encouraged it, sensing that this talk could quite quickly turn into a war. “Alright then, don't,” she muttered under her breath. Will heard it but pretended that he did not.

“Go on.”

“I met George Wickham just after you deserted me at Charlotte's, and at that time I was convinced that he was the nicest, most charming man that I had ever met. Of course I didn't put you in the equation – I was far too angry at you for leaving me, even though I knew that you had to go. I mean who else would take care of things if the Prime Minister didn't?” It was supposed to be a rhetorical question but Will was not in the mood for such foolish devices so he went with the honest truth.

“Willoughby.” She looked up at him in confusion before quickly mustering up her courage to speak again. It wasn't going too badly, she thought to herself, but then the explosive stuff was still to come.

“We got talking and I found that we had the same sort of interests – music, TV, politics... I liked him, I believed him to be a nice man. Then I saw the news and what they said about you nearly killed me. I remembered how we first met, and when they showed that girl Marianne I wondered if I was just another in a long line of victims. It's rather pathetic isn't it? It wasn't a case of thinking that you would physically hurt me, or force me to do things that I didn't want to do – I wouldn't let you do that and I think you know that – but the fear of being emotionally abused by you, emotionally crippled, was what drove me into action. When I left the café I was convinced that somehow they'd got the story wrong but secretly, unconsciously, wishing that it was true. I was such a coward. I still am. Maybe I thought that if you were the one in the wrong then it would be me breaking up with you and not the other way round. You see, all my past boyfriends – or potential ones – have always cast me aside for one reason or another and I was determined that this time I would be the one doing the rejecting. I guess I didn't know why a man like you was interested in me.” Before he had time to fully digest the statement, she began to speak again, “I'm still a feminist though, deeply devoted one – even got the hairy legs to prove it.” She tried to smile but the pathetic attempt failed to lighten the mood. When she didn't return to the topic of Wickham, Will's face became even more distorted with annoyance.

“Don't look at me like that Will,” said Lizzy. It was quiet but the defiance was clear.

“Tell me the rest.”

“How do you know that that wasn't everything that happened, that we just parted ways and hoped to meet again?” She was antagonizing him, and for a moment she cursed herself that she loved to play the devil's advocate. However, he really was getting her riled up and it would only be his fault if things got out of control.

“A woman doesn't react the way you did when you heard his name with someone she only talked to!” Will still refused to shout, but this time it was only out of consideration for the Bennets and Charles that he didn't yell.

Lizzy had no such compunction. “Were you having me followed, huh Will? Were you?” She came closer to him until she could smell his cologne. “A man like you needs to be in control. I've seen your type before and let me tell you I absolutely detest them! Men are all the same – all looking for one thing, and I was stupid enough to give it to you.”

“Oh, so all men are the same, is that it? What about Wickham, eh?”

“George is an exception to the rule,” she noticed how the use of Wickham's first name hurt Will, and she felt a perverse sense of delight. He had hurt her, Wickham had hurt her, and she wasn't going to be wounded again.

“Oh, it's George now!”

“Of course it is. Do you want to know what we did when I came back from seeing you? About how good he made me feel? How much his kisses affected me?” Only the years of keeping his emotions in check prevented Will from storming out at that point, he needed to hear the rest. “We went back to my place, and we couldn't keep our hands off each other. Then I led him up to my bedroom and he-”

“Stop it! Just stop it! You're just like every other woman I've ever met – you only want glory, money, power.” He spat out the words as though they were burning oil on his tongue.

“Well at least I'm not some pervert who likes to abuse his power – how was that Marianne girl? Did it feel good to intimidate her, force her, did it turn you on knowing that you had control over her?”

“Shut up!”

Both of them stared at the other – both thinking that there was no other person they hated more in this world than the person standing opposite. Will shook his head, and with a sudden movement he reached to snatch his coat from the chair beside Lizzy. She didn't even flinch at the force with which he took it.

He made no attempt to bid her goodbye, and she didn't say anything to him either. He stormed out of the kitchen, his composure and – he presumed – all his dignity had vanished when Lizzy had started her tirade. He didn't care what the Bennet family thought, didn't care about how angry Charles would be at his behaviour, all he wanted was to be out of the wretched house and at his own home. If only he could see Georgiana now! As he entered the dining room he found it to be suspiciously silent, and when he heard something rattle in the kitchen, he understood why. They had all heard him and Lizzy arguing. What a fine role model he was! Most of the Bennets were looking at him with a mixture of shock and outrage on their faces – even Kitty, who had admired him before, seemed horrified at his behaviour. But of course they would side with Lizzy, she was a member of their family after all. And it had been her fault, hadn't it? She had been the one to argue, she'd started it. Then a thought struck him. Lizzy had told him all he needed to know, he'd come to the conclusion, which to his mind was perfectly correct, that she had slept with Wickham. But if she'd really liked it as much as she said she had, then why had she been crying when he first started talking to her? The notion that she had been lying to him about what had happened with Wickham disturbed Will – what if something worse had taken place? What if Wickham had hurt her? The pain that such thoughts roused was more than Will could combat, but he would not apologize. It was beneath his dignity and, he sensed, it would damage his pride. After all, it was she who had started it and the matter would only be resolved by Lizzy coming to her senses and telling the truth.

Then again, maybe she had been sobbing crocodile tears. Or what was worse – what if she had been mourning, not the end of their relationship, but the end of a variety of political opportunities. He could just see her on Question Time* now, explaining to an attentive audience how bad a person he was, how rubbish he was in all areas of his life and not only in politics. The sparkling eyes would be even brighter with that comment, and George Wickham would be waiting in the wings – rejoicing in Will's downfall.

He knew that that last thought was uncharitable, but all he could see was Lizzy in bed with Wickham and a weeping Georgiana lying distraught in her bedroom at Pemberley. And he being unable to make things better.

Will had walked – or rather ran - out of the house and Charles had dutifully, and angrily, followed him. Jane was in a situation which was generally unheard of – she knew that Will had hurt Lizzy in some way and as such he deserved to be castrated, but she was also well aware that, because Will was generally a quiet and controlled man, her sister probably had had a hand in the slanging match that they had all overheard. She saw that her father was itching to go after Will, but a restraining gesture from herself had calmed him slightly. On the other hand Mrs Bennet seemed to be about to take another fit of nerves at the idea that Lizzy had chucked out one of the most eligible bachelors in the country. Oh the money lost! Well, the matriarch supposed, Lizzy always was the ungrateful child. Undoubtedly Lydia was much more deserving.

Jane quickly made her way to the kitchen, relatively unnoticed by the rest of her family. She cautiously opened the door – Lizzy could still be in a temper, and that was not something Jane particularly desired to encounter. To say that she was surprised with what she found would have been a gross understatement to Jane's feelings, astonished might have been closer. Lizzy, the brave Bennet sister who had gotten her ears pierced at the tender age of eight by her older cousin (the infection had eventually cleared up, but Mrs Bennet was still angry with her niece for leaving minuscule scars on her daughter's ears), was now lying against the back door and letting silent tears run down her face. Jane ran over to her sister and put her arms around her, but Lizzy was still unresponsive, even Jane's gentle urgings could not get her sister to wake from the trance she was in.

Eventually Jane realized that coaxing would not work, neither would ordering. The only way in which Lizzy would wake from her stupor was by her own will power. Until that happened Jane was content to merely hug her sister and let her know that there was someone there for her.

Half an hour later the unbearable pressure of contained sorrow forced Lizzy to cry out and once she started it was near impossible to stop. Jane tightened the embrace and the sobbing intensified. All that the elder sister could discern was the words, “Jane, Janie I've been so stupid, so stupid.”

Charles was not overly concerned for his friend, at the moment his soul preferred anger to anything remotely sympathetic. Could the man not be reasonable for once? Could he not be amicable? Charles realized that Mrs Bennet was indeed a tad overbearing and certainly she was enthusiastic, but surely that was just country manners for you! Will was standing against the car and gazing into the night sky – although Charles guessed that the fine array of stars was going unnoticed by the Prime Minister.

“I can't believe you did that.”

Will didn't respond.

“What happened in there?” Charles' new tactic of gentle questioning had as much success as the previous one. “You're going to have to tell me sometime.” Still there was silence. “If you don't snap out of-”

“Don't Charles.”

“Don't what?”

“Don't try and make me feel guilty. Believe me you don't need to.”

Charles, a little softened by his friend's admission, strode over and stood beside him. “I don't want to know what that was about, it's between you and Lizzy, but couldn't you have kept your annoyance hidden until we got back to Netherfield?” Will, sensing that the real reason for his friend's concern was that he might be tarred with the same brush, told Charles that he was convinced Jane would realize that he was blameless on this matter and that his own anger had in no way diminished his chances with Lizzy's sister.

“That's not the point.”

“Isn't it? You're afraid that Jane will think that we're the same and then break up with you.”

“No I'm not!” Charles' denial sounded a little weak even to his own ears. “Alright, maybe a little. But what I'm most concerned about is what you've done to Lizzy. All personal matters aside, she's a dangerous political enemy to have.”

“It'll make good headlines then.”

“Darce, don't say that. I'm so frustrated with you right now! I don't have to be Knightley to realize that if this little story with Lizzy gets out, you'll lose a lot of our female voters – even more so than we already have.” Will remembered the accusations facing him and groaned silently. It really seemed as though his life could not get any worse – he was branded as a misogynist and now he had even lost Lizzy's confidence and, if she had ever held any for him, her affection.

“What am I going to do?” The despairing question shocked Charles. Will had never really been one to ask his advice on matters and he was grateful for that, but for Will to now seek his counsel rocked Charles to the core. It appeared that Will had lost all trust in himself, in his decisions, and as Will had always been the strong one, the constant – almost stubborn – one, Charles gained an insight into how much this man felt for Lizzy.

“What are you going to do? You, my friend, are going to apologize.”

*Question Time is a BBC programme in which a panel of guests (both from the political and entertainment worlds) answer questions on the government, it's policies

etc.

Chapter Eleven

Posted on Sunday, 5 March 2006

Parliament was back in session and Lizzy couldn't be happier. Although she was slightly worried that she could run into Will quite easily, she also knew that there was no way he would lower himself to argue publicly with a mere opposition back bencher. After what had happened the last time the two had met, Lizzy had taken herself away to Ireland and no one except Jane had known where she was. It had been blissful, the weather unusually warm and she had made some good friends who she had promised to keep in contact with. It was a delightful change not seeing the Prime Minister's face everywhere she went and her sojourn had assured her that if things went very badly in England she could at least flee to Ireland.

“Lizzy I need to talk to you!”

“Sure Ed.”

Edmund Bertram, the leader of the Labour Party, had been a close friend of Elizabeth's for many years and when she had first entered Parliament (only a few months ago) he had been the first to make her feel really welcome. She ventured into his office which was a very neat, orderly place. Evidently Frances had been at it.

“What's the matter?”

“Well Lizzy, I wanted to congratulate you on a job well done.”

“Pardon?”

“You've managed to survive the first few months of this hell hole.”

“Be careful, someone might think that you don't like politics.”

“Sometimes I think that I don't.” Ed sat down on his chair and let out a mammoth sigh. “Maybe I'll turn to religion, something that doesn't involve back-stabbing and name-calling on a daily basis. I think Fran would prefer it as well.”

“She misses you, it's natural. But I'm sure she understands.”

“Of course she understands, she's Frances Price – that's what she does! But know that she would prefer that I wasn't in Westminster for most of the week. Maybe then we could get married after a five year engagement, and have kids and everything that goes along with it.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Never mind, it's not your fault. In fact you are the beacon in my very dark political life.”

“What?”

“Lizzy, you're about to take up your seat on the Foreign Affairs select committee – that could be a huge step for you.” He motioned for her to have a seat and she did what he instructed. What was he on about? “I would like you in my shadow cabinet, you're a good politician, a good friend – I can trust you. But you have to get some experience, make yourself known a bit more to the general public, then you'll find a space on the front bench.”

“I'm honoured, really I am, but isn't the function of the select committees to scrutinize the government without party politics coming into play?”

“What are you trying to say?”

“To an outsider the mention of my seat on the Foreign Affairs select committee and then a potential position in the shadow cabinet...well it could sound like you were bribing me.” She hoped that that wasn't true. For so long she had put Ed on a moral pedestal – he had been everything that was good and noble and honourable about politics – but if he was suggesting what it appeared he was suggesting, then she would have no other choice than to sever all links with him.

“I'm not.” Lizzy breathed a sigh of relief. “Did you really think I would do that?” She couldn't respond. In the few brief months that she had been at Westminster she had become a jaded person, a somewhat cynical person. The woman who had entered politics with the view that anything was possible was now unrecognizable. Apparently things were only possible if you knew the right people, if you were powerful enough, rich enough.

Such as Will and what he had – or had not – done with Marianne Dashwood. The truth had never come out and no one had really suffered politically. Will had seen his popularity fall momentarily in the opinion polls and John Willoughby was for the briefest of instants the most popular man in the Conservative Party, but soon things had reverted to the natural order. Will was the darling boy of the Tories and Willoughby the edgy rival. She had been convinced that what had happened would have changed things – either Willoughby or Will would have been removed from their offices – but nothing had happened. However now she was back in the Commons, she sensed something was different - not in the cabinet or the party, but in the hearts and minds of the Conservative MPs and of the staff who worked for them.

“Lizzy? Are you listening to me?” She was woken from her daze by Ed who had managed to find enough energy to walk over beside her.

“Yeah, no, sorry what were you saying?”

“I was just wishing you luck. This is an important thing, make the most of it.”

“I will.”

Her first meeting with the rest of the Foreign Affairs select committee was that afternoon. Unfortunately it also coincided with the Minister for Education coming in and answering questions about her policies, so there were a lot of journalists there. After all, everyone was eager to see if she would be harassed by the committee.

“Elizabeth Bennet? Am I correct?” It was clear that the man in front of her knew exactly who she was but, for reasons unknown to Lizzy, refused to admit it.

“Yes. And you are?” He obviously didn't expect the question to be turned round on him. Immediately his whole body tensed and his face became even more stony.

“I am William Collins, the chairman of this committee. I'm extremely surprised that you don't know who I am because I have been favoured with the friendship and condescension of Lady Catherine de Bourgh – the aunt of the Prime Minister William Darcy.”

“I do know who the Prime Minister is, thank you.” I know him far more intimately than you would ever believe. It was that thought which allowed her to get through the next five minutes in which Collins flattered Lady Catherine, criticized Ed and patronized Lizzy. She could just imagine the look on his face if he ever found out what had occurred between Will and herself, of course she temporarily forgot – or ignored – the fact that their relationship was rather rocky at the moment.

Eventually Collins stopped talking and Lizzy managed to extract herself from his tedious company. She wasn't sure if the man name-dropped because he was uneasy about how he was viewed or because he was just an arrogant buffoon. As she watched him approach another committee member – who tried valiantly to get away – she assumed that he was just obnoxious.

“Lizzy Bennet? It's a pleasure to meet you.” She turned around to see whose was the friendly voice. “Oh sorry, I'm -”

“Anne Elliot. Education Minister.” Lizzy was slightly taken aback at meeting one of the few prominent female politicians.

“I know you're new here, I hope Collins didn't put you off.”

“Not really, I suppose there are lots of arrogant, pompous, sniveling twits in all areas of British society.” She saw Anne trying to repress a smile and warmed to the woman. Then she remembered the words of Lucy Steele when news of Will allegedly abusing his power had come to light.

”I know for a fact that Anne Elliot is very close to him – more than just a platonic closeness.”

Lizzy wondered whether that was true or not. Regardless of the claims against Will's character, she could imagine Anne and he having a very close relationship – surely the other woman was the ideal woman for Will; intelligent, loyal, quiet-tempered.

“Ignore Collins. I don't like him and I know Will doesn't either.” Will, she called him Will – not William. She also knew that maybe she was over-reacting but couldn't stop herself from being completely and irrationally paranoid.

“How did Collins become the chairman?”

“I don't know. Maybe because of Lady de Bourgh's influence, maybe because of Will. He's not that good of a scrutinizer, all he seems to care about is his future with her, that's good for me but it's not good for what I represent – for democracy. I mean, who wants someone who is basically just a sycophant?”

“No one does! How long until the next general election?”

Anne laughed. “No use trying to get him out that way, Lady de Bourgh will always find him some sort of job.”

“Damn.”

Someone came over to them to tell them that they were ready to start the meeting and so they separated. As Lizzy sat in her seat she was relieved to discover that she was as far away from Collins as possible. Apparently her predecessor had common sense.

It was a long meeting but, to Lizzy at least, a very interesting one. Foreign Affairs had always seemed like something exciting and dynamic, and to witness first hand how things were done at Westminster was enthralling. Anne's interview had been unexpectedly short – Collins would not let anyone even remotely related to Lady Catherine de Bourgh be questioned for too long and when Lizzy tried to question Anne herself, Collins more or less said that as a female Labour politician she shouldn't be interfering. That annoyed her as she believed, or rather hoped, that sexism in politics had more or less ceased, and when other female members of the committee asked questions they were given the same response by the chairman. She thought that it was strange that a man who thought so highly of Lady de Bourgh would put down other females with some modicum of power.

Anne did not leave the meeting when her session was over, instead she sat in the public gallery which didn't appear to shock many people apart from the odd tourist. In fact it was as if the journalists were used to her – a few even started up conversations with her.

The next witness to come in was one Captain Frederick Wentworth who was to be asked about how the government's policies had affected the Navy and their actions, more specifically how one of the sailors had managed to nearly start an international incident by way of insults. Later he had been found washed up on a shore, and it was still unclear whether or not he had jumped or been pushed, and if the later – who exactly had pushed him.

“The name of the unfortunate..victim...was Musgrove, was it not?”

“Yes. Richard Musgrove.”

“And what sort of a man was he?”

Lizzy watched Frederick Wentworth as thought about it. He seemed confident and assured within himself and, in her opinion, was trying to find words to describe Musgrove that would not cause repercussions with the family. “Musgrove was a very naïve man, he made some foolish choices and was useless on a ship. It didn't surprise me when I heard what he'd done.”

“Do you mean when he committed suicide or when he started the fight?”

“The latter. He wasn't the sort of man who could kill himself, he didn't have the balls.” There was some laughter from the journalists and Lizzy looked at them. She inadvertently caught sight of Anne who was looking far less comfortable than when she had been in the chair.

“So are you blaming the government for his death?”

“I'm not blaming anyone Mr Collins, I just stated a fact.”

“Indeed?” Collins paused and glanced down at his notes. “I says here that you were born to a working class family in the North.”

“I was.”

“And as such you would naturally have Labour leanings.”

“I don't see what my political beliefs have to do with my evidence.” Frederick was starting to get annoyed with Collins as well and at that moment Lizzy would have done anything just to give the chairman a slap.

“Well surely you would want the Conservatives out of power so that your lot could get in!” He sent a nasty look Lizzy's way and she had to bite her tongue and not respond to his taunting. One of the other members was about to stop Collins – he had started to talk – but someone else spoke first.

“I hardly think that this line of questioning is relevant to Captain Wentworth's evidence.” It was Anne. She had risen and was staring at Collins in disbelief of what he had said. Frederick turned round just a little to see who had spoken up for him and for a brief moment he had seemed shocked. Then his face had reverted to its previous inscrutability.

“Of course Ms Elliot. If you think it best.” Collins was back to his simpering, moronic self.

Lizzy's nails cut into her palm.

That man!

The meeting was over and Lizzy was trying to avoid Collins. Earlier on this membership of the committee had seemed to be a dream, but now it was quickly turning sour. If only she could find a way to remove Collins...

“Anne, are you ready to go now?” There was a cavalcade of flashes at these words. If Lizzy had not recognized the voice then she would have wondered why there was such a fuss.

“Sure Will.”

Maybe if Lizzy didn't look at him then he would go away without noticing her.

Wishful thinking that.

“Will, do you know Lizzy Bennet? She's one of the rising stars in the Labour party, or so I hear, and she managed not to strangle Collins today.” Anne had moved towards Lizzy and Will had unwittingly come as well.

“Quite an achievement.” He sounded shocked. Why does he sound shocked? Why?

“Lizzy I'm sure you know Will.”

“Yes.”

“It's nice to see you again Lizzy.” Keep breathing, don't mention anything about that dinner. Calm down, you can't have an argument in front of the press.

“You too.”

She believed that Anne realized that something had happened between the two and she was grateful to her that she didn't ask any more questions. She changed the topic but unfortunately it was not one which Elizabeth really wanted to hear about.

“How'd your meeting with the demon go?”

“It was unbearable, as always.”

“Who is 'the demon'?” Will stared at her as she asked him and she couldn't make out what he felt at seeing her again.

“Do you really want to know Lizzy?”

“Of course Will.”

Anne had wandered off slightly and was now talking to one of her aides. Fortunately the press had mostly moved on and Lizzy would not have to worry about appearing in the newspapers the next day with a heavy blush on her face.

“It's Wickham.”

“Oh.”

Chapter Twelve

Posted on Saturday, 18 March 2006

Lizzy was wondering why she had even brought the subject up, but now that George Wickham's name was involved she knew that, whether she liked it or not, she and Will would have to tell each other the truth. If that hurt the other, if that made the other angry, then so be it ,but there were things about their relationship that needed to be said.

"Will, we need to talk."

"I couldn't agree more." He appeared cool and calm and collected, and consequently everything a Prime Minister ought to be, but inside his heart was hammering and a nervousness propelled itself throughout his body. For weeks, months, he had tried to find her so that he could apologize for his behaviour but she had seemingly disappeared. Jane would not reveal her location even to Charles but whereas his friend had been resigned to be patient, Will wasn't able to help going out of his mind. What if something had happened to her? What if she had gone forever and he would never see her again? Only the rational part of his brain reminded him that, although she might be head-strong and obstinate at times, she would not abandon her duties nor her constituency for an overly long period of time. So with that knowledge, and Knightley's arguments, he had left Netherfield and returned to London, from where he had begun to plan a cunning scheme which would hopefully outwit and outmanoeuvre Willoughby.

Lizzy looked round and saw that Anne had gone but the journalists were still there and, as she did not particularly want a public slanging match, she asked Will if they could talk in private. He got her meaning immediately and told her that he would meet her at her office as soon as he was able.

They parted and Lizzy trudged up to her office. It was a very small room, with almost no natural light but she had the good fortune to have it to herself. She reasoned that it was so minuscule that there was no chance of fitting in two desks and so the powers that be had left her at peace for once. When she had first arrived the office had been a very drab room, dark colours shrinking space, with very few features of merit. However now the blue walls and light colours alleviated some of the oppressiveness. She dumped her bag on the desk and went to pour herself some coffee ,her third of the day ,before relaxing in her chair. Lizzy was far too busy pondering how she had seemed at the meeting with Will and looking back on how he had reacted to her that she completely missed the knock on the door. It was only when the light came in that she noticed that there was someone else in that room. The someone else was, of course, Will.

"Hi. Coffee?" It was a trivial remark but it appeared to alleviate some of the tension and so she got up to pour the coffee. To her utter dismay the only cup she had left was a bright pink one with several very cute cartoon animals on it ,not exactly the personification of a serious politician. Trying to ignore the design of the cup, she handed it to Will who promptly raised an eyebrow (something which she saw was extremely adorable) but didn't comment any further.

"You like blue do you?"

"Pardon?"

"The walls."

"Oh yeah, it's a good colour."

"I'm surprised you didn't paint them red." She almost smiled at is words but refrained and carried on with the utmost sincerity.

"The red clashed with the cup."

"Touché."

They sat in silence for the next while until Will decided to tell her what he had wanted to earlier. Lizzy nearly choked on her coffee when she heard his voice and, although she managed not to do that, she did succeed in scalding her throat.

"Are you alright?" He asked after hearing her yelp of pain. She nodded and told him to continue which he did after a certain amount of hesitation.

"I was about to tell you about Wickham. The truth about him, please believe me about that. No matter what may or may not have happened between you, all I need is for you to hear me out." She nodded again and he continued after taking a deep breath. "Wickham and I were really good friends when we were younger. His father was one of the managers that my father employed. So we were always together through childhood and through adolescence, you know there were times when I truly believed that he was my best friend." He stopped and took a sip of his coffee. Lizzy was curious and she desperately wanted to know what he was going to tell her, but she did not rush him. If there was one thing she had learned about him it was that he was someone who liked to do things in his own time and by his own choice. "We went to university “ Cambridge “ and I worked hard, determined to prove to my father that I could do better than being the head of a company that I had inherited. I suppose I wanted to show him that I was independent. Wickham, on the other hand, had no such notions. He preferred to use his appearance to his advantage and, consequently, he managed to get scores of women to work on his behalf. You know Lizzy, I've often thought that maybe he should be in politics and not me."

"What would you do if you weren't Prime Minister?" She joked.

"Live a quiet life."

"You'd be bored, I think you're a man who likes to be doing something. I can't see you being content with hanging around gentlemen's clubs, smoking cigars and drinking whiskey."

"I'll have you know Miss Bennet, that there is nothing wrong with frequenting such establishments. For one thing, there are no journalists. No tabloid ones anyway." Lizzy realized that there was so much to this man that she didn't know. She'd judged him based on previous experience with upper class toffs and, although he had proved some of her ideas to be incorrect, the notion still persisted that he was only interested in power and money and everything that went along with it. With a start she understood that she wanted to know more about him. But there was still the question of whether or not he would forgive her, and whether or not she would let him. "Do you want me to continue?"

"Of course."

"Wickham and I grew apart at Cambridge, he had his set of friends and I had mine. In fact we rarely saw each other unless he wanted something, money, in case you did not figure that out. My father, however, still loved him as a son and still persisted to think that he was a person to be trusted. I knew otherwise but I would not tell him."

"Why not?"

"Do not think that it was out of some remnant of friendship for Wickham. On the contrary, anything of that sort had disappeared by the end of my first year at university. But my father was ill, he was dying, and I couldn't bear to upset him and spoil the little bit of life he had left."

"That's understandable, Will."

"But if he had known then perhaps he would have done something so that the events that followed might not have happened." He was silent and Lizzy thought that she could discern tears in his eyes. Slowly and cautiously she placed her hand on top of his, just to remind him that she was there.

"There's no point beating yourself up about something that you can't change."

"Always the optimist, Lizzy."

"Not always." For the briefest of moments his grip tightened on her hand but then he let it go. She felt oddly alone and longed, insanely, for the feel of his skin on hers again.

"So my father died, and I was left in control of all that he possessed. I don't mean to boast, but that's a lot, and it was hard for me. I was just embarking on a career in politics and all of a sudden I had the added responsibility of a worldwide business and a teenage sister. The former was much easier to handle than the latter."

"Is she like Lydia?"

"No! Heaven forbid." He looked at her sheepishly, "Sorry."

"Don't apologize. I'm well aware of my youngest sister's faults, believe me I have tried to make her aware of them too. Nothing seems to help though." He snickered, but not unkindly.

"No, Georgiana ,that's her name ,is the perfect angel of a sister. And I'm well aware that I'm coming dangerously close to an imitation of Charles. Georgie's always been good, there's never been any trouble out of her." He seemed to be lost in thought and, once again, Lizzy did not desire to interrupt whatever those thoughts were. "Anyway, back to Wickham. Father had left him a house in London in his will and that, we both had thought, would suffice. Wickham wanted something else, something which would bring him more immediate wealth. He asked me for one hundred thousand pounds instead of the property. I desperately wanted to get him away from what remained of my family, and so I acquiesced. Later I found out that he had it all spent within a matter of weeks, but then I was in ignorance and lived with the belief that George Wickham and I would never have to meet again."

"Did you?"

"Unfortunately, yes. Last year in fact, just before the general election. My sister went to France with her school and, although worried, I really thought that it'd be good for her; that it would give her a little bit of independence. There was one teacher who she really got on well with and I trusted her with Georgie's care." He took another sip of the coffee and Lizzy, realizing that she had not drank any of her coffee since the burning incident, also imbibed some. "She was having a brilliant time, she e-mailed me everyday ,and I was glad that she was enjoying herself. However, I wanted to see her, and so I flew off to meet her before she came home. When I got there, a most unwelcome surprise awaited me, Wickham. He was there, romancing my sister, persuading her that she loved him and that he loved her. I feared what lengths he had gone to, but my sister informed me that nothing of that sort had happened and, to be quite honest, I have never been so grateful in my life."

"Didn't her teachers do something? I mean, if Wickham's the same age as you surely they would have suspected something was wrong." Will let out a bitter, mirthless laugh.

"You'd have thought so, but they didn't. Or, more accurately, one teacher didn't, the one who my sister and I had trusted completely: a woman called Mrs Younge. I don't know how she knew Wickham, but she did, and she let that monster take advantage of Georgie."

"What happened? Did you get the police involved?"

"No, to my shame I didn't. I didn't want news of what had happened to my sister to get out and that, I fully admit, was selfish, stupid and ignorant. She assured me that nothing of a very serious nature had happened and although I was ready to kill Wickham, she persuaded me to do nothing." The room was quiet as they both reflected on what he had just said. To Lizzy it was incomprehensible why Wickham had tried to seduce the sister of a man who was arguably one of the most powerful men in the world. Then it struck her.

"It was the money, wasn't it?"

Will nodded. "What else? He was in debt and he needed a way to get that money quickly, they told me ,or more accurately, Georgiana told me ,that they were going to get married without a pre-nuptial agreement which I would surely have pressed upon him even if his intentions were honourable."

"I can't believe it."

"What did he tell you?"

"Wickham said that you were the one who went gallivanting around with countless women, that you got involved with his younger sister and proceeded to cheat on her." She was ashamed now to admit that she had once believed Wickham's horrid lies, the mere mention of what he had said seemed to taint her very person.

"That is not unexpected. I can see now why you turned to him." Sadness had crept back into his voice again and it became quieter as well. Lizzy, now more than ever, desired to tell him the truth of what had occurred that night.

"Will, there's something I need to tell you."

"What?"

"What I said to you, when you came over for the family dinner, may have been slightly exaggerated."

"Exaggerated, how?"

"I insinuated that I had slept with Wickham."

"Didn't you?"

"No." She dared to look up at him and the sight of his face was almost enough to reduce her to tears. There was a hope in his eyes, a happiness that she had not seen in what seemed like eternity, and in turn it filled her with joy and relief and contentment.

"What happened?"

Now she had to tell him the harder stuff. "We went back to my house and we did get...passionate." She heard him wince and it was only her strength that enabled her to continue. "I was going to...you know...but I couldn't. There was something, someone, in my mind that prevented me from giving myself to him." She paused and looked him straight in his deep, brooding, brown eyes. "It was you." His breath caught in his throat in amazement. "But he wouldn't stop. He pushed me and pushed me and I couldn't get away. I tried to but...for a while I thought that he would...you know."

"I'll kill him!" Will got up and stormed towards the door. Lizzy rose as well and ran after him, reaching him before he could throw open the door. Grabbing his arm, she brought him to a halt.

"Please don't. I couldn't bear what everyone would say if they knew. Please don't."

"Lizzy-"

"Please." Her voice was reduced to a whisper. "Please."

She noted his internal struggle and she wished so badly that he would find it in himself to do as she said and respect her decision. Eventually he nodded very slightly.

"Thank you, my love." She leaned into him and hugged his waist. He, however, did not respond. Instead, his body was stiff and restrained. "What's the matter?"

"You said 'my love'."

"I did."

"And why?"

She took a deep breath and moved away slightly before gazing up at him. "Because I love you."

Chapter Thirteen

Posted on Thursday, 6 April 2006

“You what?”

That was not how Lizzy expected Will to take that news. She had been waiting for an outburst of either anger or happiness or even dismay, but she had never believed that he would be shocked by what she had announced. That said, he did look extremely adorable when he was puzzled.

“I love you.” He did not respond immediately and she grew worried. What if he didn't feel the same way about her? What if he was going to break up with her?

“Thank you.”

Thank you? She told him that she loved him and he said 'thank you'? However she soon realized the need to appear completely nonchalant and mustered up a rather pathetic smile. “You're welcome.” Should this encounter not be filled with passion of one kind of another, and not pleasantries? He seemed to sense her astonishment at his answer, and so decided to try and make his words better, well as much as Will Darcy could.

“Will you go out for dinner with me tonight?”

“Tonight?” He nodded in response to her question. “Where would we go? I mean it's seriously unlikely that we can go incognito.”

“You don't want anyone to see us?”

“Do you?”

“Well, now that you mention it I suppose that it would be for the best if we were to dine in less public surroundings.” That knocked her again but she carried on, resilient little Lizzy that she was.

“What about my flat?”

“Your flat?”

“Where I stay in London, Will. Keep up!” She knew that he knew she was mocking him and was freed slightly more by it. “Remember that first night? A lot of alcohol, with a shot of misery. Well where we ended up, that's where I live. It's only rented.” She could see that Will was hesitant to end up there and attempted to ignore the annoyance that it caused within her. Why did he have to be a complete darling sometimes and a total snob at others? In her mind it was evident that Will would not lower himself to her standards...but she loved him and that love was meant to make her see past the faults. Wasn't it?

“I know, I can recall those events. But,” he raised his hand up through his hair and Lizzy found that when he did this he looked devilishly rakish. “I would rather go to my place.”

“Your place? As in 10 Downing Street?”

“No, my place as in my home.”

“And where would that be?”

“Derbyshire.”

She lifted an eyebrow in disbelief. “Will, don't you think that Derbyshire's a bit too far away for one meal?”

“I don't have any work tomorrow, well nothing organized anyway. And I know that you don't so...” She desperately wanted to ask him how he knew her schedule but refrained. That would quite possibly seem a little too needy. He suddenly seemed to think of something because his face quickly changed into an expression of panic. “I didn't mean anything by it, I mean I don't want you to stay with me in that way....Well I do but that's not the point. What I'm trying to say,” he told her, looking at her smiling face, “is that there are lots of spare bedrooms. You don't have to...well, you know.”

“Will,” she started off very seriously. “Has anyone ever told you that you're so cute when you're embarrassed?” At which point Will duly became, in Lizzy's eyes anyway, even cuter.

“Well, no. Possibly Caroline has at some point but-” He was cut off by her kiss. Soon the conversation, Will's cuteness and even Caroline Bingley were all forgotten about because all of a sudden the only thing that had been important to the other was theirs.

Will had flown down to his home almost as soon as his 'meeting' with Lizzy had finished, and at that moment the latter was waiting, rather impatiently, for her flight to be called. She had always hated airports and this one was no exception. It was possibly the hustle and bustle of the places which was always accompanied by crying children and harassed parents. So to pass the time, she had bought a political magazine which just so happened to have Will's picture on the cover. Complete coincidence of course, because there was a rather interesting article on page 43 that she wished to read. It was strange though, because she had never really been that excited about the government's position on GM crops.

“He's a right so and so that one.”

“Pardon?” Lizzy had been taken by surprise by an old woman who was sitting beside her. The old woman looked more like a battle-axe though, whereas another, much younger woman (whom she presumed was the daughter of the battle-axe) was huddled up in a million coats and scarves. Lizzy thought that that was dreadfully mean because it was at least 30°C in the departure lounge. She glanced towards the old woman again and saw that she was pointing, rather imperiously, to the magazine – in particular, to Will's picture.

“That Darcy man. One often wonders how the Tories could have voted in such a cretin.”

“He seems nice though.”

“Nice my eye. He's just waiting for another year and then he'll be off.”

“Do you think so? I gather that he's very committed to his work and,” Lizzy took a deep breath. “I believe that he's really devoted to his work.”

“Hmm, that's very interesting. I wouldn't have expected you to like him.”

“What makes you think that?” Lizzy was genuinely puzzled. What could this woman, whom she had never met before in her life, think about her? Why would she even bother?

“Your clothes, they are...how shall I put this? Rather plebeian.”

Before Lizzy could respond she heard her flight being called and decided, for possibly the first time in her life, to take the moral high ground and not argue. That wasn't to say that it wasn't hard to resist slapping the battle-axe when a smug expression formed on her face.

The flight was really quite short and smooth, despite her fears before they had taken off, and soon she had landed and was now wandering aimlessly, well maybe not aimlessly because she was trying to find Will or someone who he might have sent to pick her up. He had said he would after all.

“Ahem, Miss Bennet?” She whirled around to face the speaker who, she found, was a man wearing a rather impressive (but completely obvious) chauffeur suit. Well, she had never expected that from Will.

“Yeah, that's me.”

“My name is Arnauld Heger, Monsieur Darcy told me to wait for you.”

“How did you know that I was me? If that makes any sense.” They began to walk, Lizzy following Arnauld's lead.

“Monsieur Darcy told me to look for a very pretty lady.”

“He did?” Lizzy was touched that Will might have said that about her and immediately went back into 'giddy-mode' as Jane often called it. Not that there'd been too many such moments in her life, but she always found that good surprises were often the source.

“Oui, mademoiselle. But he also gave he a photograph.”

“Oh.”

“I hope that I did not offend you with what I said to you.”

“No, not at all. The reverse actually, because those words always sound better when they are spoken by a French man.” She caught a glimpse of a smile around Arnauld's mouth and barely refrained from grinning herself when she recollected the battle-axe from before. She so did not want to meet that woman again!

“Then, mademoiselle, you better not tell the boss.”

“Why? Would he be jealous?”

“Oui, most certainly. However there would be something far more dangerous than that.” She was mystified at what Arnauld was saying and couldn't decipher his meaning. Lizzy had always believed that Will could be very jealous and possessive and that suspicion had been proved when she had lied to him about what had happened between her and Wickham. Although, looking back on it, she wondered whether his behaviour had been due to his hurt upon discovering that the woman he's been sort-of seeing had slept (or not) with his former friend.

“And what would that be?”

“The danger is that if Monsieur Darcy was to know about your weakness he might try to exploit it.” At Lizzy's confused look he elaborated. “He speaks French very well.”

“Oh.”

It didn't take them very long to get to Will's house – or Pemberley, which Arnauld told her it was called. It was a funny name for a house, she thought upon hearing it the first time, but when they drove up the seemingly endless lane to it and came upon it, almost hidden by clusters of trees, she understood that the name did indeed do this magnificent house justice. Although she had known Will was rich (he was the Prime Minister after all), she had never imagined that he could be this wealthy. Then again, his father and his father's father and all his ancestors had probably been lords of the manor. Hmph, she thought, his family ruled over the sort of people who I stand up for. However, she imagined that there were no such things as chavs in those days – Lizzy was all for equality in everything but sometimes it galled one to know that someone was living off the state who actually was able to find work and a job. But not everyone was like that, she reasoned. I better stop – I'm starting to sound like Will!

She thought of that dashing, debonair man – Lizzy was tempted to think of Will as a 'dude' (purely for the alliteration) but it just didn't seem to fit. Somehow the image of Will in a Hawaiian shirt, topping up his tan while sleeping on a beach didn't exactly strike her as very likely. And anyway, he was far more appealing in a suit. And speaking of Will...

He was standing on the drive way as if he was watching to see her come and that caused that warm, bubbly feeling to well up inside her again.

It seemed as if time was unbearably long, for – to Lizzy – it took an eternity for the car to stop, for Arnauld to unlock the doors and for her to get out. However, the look on Will's face when he saw her again was more than worth the wait.

“Welcome to my humble abode.”

Chapter Fifteen

Posted on Sunday, 30 April 2006

Will woke and found that he was extremely stiff. For a moment he wondered what had caused this and why he had fallen asleep on the sofa. Then it all became clear, marvelously wonderfully clear. Lizzy had spent the night with him last night, well not spent the night spent the night but it was almost better than that. At least he knew that he hadn't gotten himself into any trouble so far, so that was progress.

But where was Lizzy?

He searched around him, eyes reluctant to face the blinding light of day, and discovered that she wasn't there. A jolt of fear rocketed through him - he wasn't sure if he could face another few months without her as he had done in the summer. He tried to get up but was promptly pushed back down. He smiled, relieved. It was Lizzy.

“Hey sleepy-head. I thought you were never going to wake up.”

“Lizzy, hi, wait...what time is it?”

“Half eight.” She sat down beside him, curling up to him once again. “I've got a terrible headache – I told you that I shouldn't drink.”

“You're trying to blame this on me now?” He caressed her hair which was still slightly messy and smelt the familiar Lizzy smell once again. If only all of his mornings could be like this one then maybe the country would be a damn sight better governed.

“No, don't worry. I'm a big girl, it's my own fault. At least it wasn't vodka though. Vodka goes straight to my head.”

“So wine doesn't then?” She hit him playfully and immediately regretted it.

“Ow, head.” He placed a light kiss on her forehead and rose, slightly more stably this time, to make them both some coffee. Not that he was sure it would do Lizzy any good, for all he knew she could become a monster after mixing alcohol and caffeine. Oh well, it was all that he could find in the house. All of a sudden he found himself wishing for Mrs Reynolds' return. As he made his way back into the room he heard Lizzy groan again, concerned, he asked her if anything else was the matter. She reddened and told him that it was nothing out of the ordinary. He was still mystified by her response but, because he desired a quiet and uneventful life as far as Lizzy was concerned, kept silent.

“Coffee. Love it.”

“I'm glad.”

“So what's the Latin for coffee then?” Off his startled, and slightly annoyed, look she expanded what she had said. “You keep insisting that Latin's useful for some things...”

“You keep going on like that, my dear, and you might be deprived of any of my future coffee offerings.” She laughed and moaned again.

“Will?”

“Yes?”

“Does your sister, I mean, does she leave her things here?”

“Yes, why?” Lizzy took a deep breath and looked away from him. To Will it seemed as though she was embarrassed which was a very odd thing indeed.

“Well, I was...that is, I need...you know....things.”

“Things?” Will didn't have a clue what she was going on about which he could see was frustrating Lizzy greatly.

“You know things.” She stressed the last word but he was still as ignorant as he had been previously. “It's my time of the-”

“Oh, okay. Right well, yeah, well I think-”

“Thank you.”

She left but Will was still quite disturbed by what had just happened. He knew the ways of the world and had even done Biology to A Level but he didn't want to think that his sister was old enough for those sorts of things, which was a reality he had had to face up to 5 years ago. The fact that Lizzy had talked about it had only increased his embarrassment. Well, at least there was an excuse for her to be cranky now.

In an attempt to clear his mind of such thoughts, he began to tidy the room – the wine glasses were still on the table and, he suspected, the stains too. And he really didn't want to face a very angry Mrs Reynolds. He was still doing this when Lizzy re-entered.

“Did you get-”

“Yeah.”

“Right. Good.”

He heard her give a little giggle which quickly developed into huge bouts of laughter. He wanted to ask her what was funny, if it was him because he really didn't enjoy being laughed at, but he didn't get that far because her contagious laughter got him as well. “That wasn't awkward at all, Will.” He shook his head, sobering up at the sight of her in his home. She looked so natural there and, in truth, there was nothing he wanted more than to make that dream a reality. He was about to ask her what she wanted for lunch when her mobile phone rang.

“Sorry, it's probably just mum.”

“Don't worry.” He made himself scarce while she spoke to whoever was on the other end. It was only when he couldn't hear her voice any more that he left the kitchen and made his way back to the living room.

Lizzy was standing in the middle of the room, phone still in hand, and looked absolutely horrified. His concern for her immediately outweighed any qualm he might have in asking her what was wrong, so, slowly, he walked towards her and placed a hand on her back. She didn't respond.

“Lizzy? Are you alright?”

Still nothing.

“Maybe we should sit down. Lizzy, come on.” She allowed herself to be lead by him over to the sofa, although he was sure that she wasn't really with him in that room. Her thoughts, her worries, her soul, seemed to be elsewhere.

They sat without either of them saying anything. As the moments passed Will became even more worried about what she had just been told. What if someone had died, what if something very bad had happened to them, what if...

“My sister.”

“What?”

“My sister...” Lizzy's voice was shaky, it appeared as though she was struggling not to cry. “Lydia, she's run away.” Well that was bad, but certainly not the absolute catastrophe that he had imagined. “She's run away with...with that worthless piece of scum...it's Wickham.”

“Wickham?”

“Her new boyfriend, remember?” She laughed bitterly. “You know, I really wish I'd told someone about him now.”

“You'll get her back though, the police are good at that sort of thing.”

“Will...I have to leave. Now. I, I understand why you don't want to see me again. I'll just get out of your home and go very far away.”

“Lizzy, I don't-”

“She's pregnant.”

“What?”

“Lydia's pregnant. She's not even in university yet and she's already got two kids.” She got up and put her coat on. “Talk about a disaster.” Will knew that he should move and tell her to stop, tell her not to go, that he would take care of everything. But he didn't. He left her to walk out, utterly stunned and outraged at Lydia and Wickham's behaviour. He barely heard her whispered goodbye. But he didn't respond.

And she left.

Then he heard someone else come into the room and walk over to him. “Will? Who was that?”

“Georgie.”

There must have been evidence of what he was feeling in his voice because his sister instantly became concerned. “What's the matter?”

“Nothing.”

“Please Will, tell me.”

“It's good to have you back.” He rose and made his way to the study. He realized that he would be ashamed at such behaviour later on, but right now all he cared about was Lizzy and making sure that he was the perfect, strong brother to Georgiana.

The minute he entered the study he picked up the phone and called Knightley, determination filling every bit of his body. He had the ability to do something about this disaster, he could fix things in some way for the Bennet family. And he would.

“Knightley, it's Will. I need you to do something for me.” He waited for the other man's assent before continuing. “I need you to trap another rat. His name? George Wickham. For what? The abduction of a girl, no she's seventeen, but I need to find her. Her name's Lydia Bennet.” He had long since given up hope of hiding anything from Knightley and had presumed that the man had already deduced the situation regarding Lizzy. Still, he had said nothing about it and for that Will was immensely grateful. He flipped through the paper that was sitting on his desk while Knightley went away to make enquiries about what action he could take. The absent-minded turning of the page stopped when he saw an article on page 8 – it seem to be an extremely serious matter to that paper, or at least at that time considering that pages 1 to 7 were dedicated to something that the England football team had done.

The article took up the entire page, although Will was sure that it probably merited more, and the photo dominated most of it.

Divide in the Cabinet

Sources in the Government have sensationally revealed last night that the Cabinet is dangerously close to falling apart. The reason for this is the ever increasing, and ever evident, hatred between the Prime Minister William Darcy and the Chancellor of the Exchequer John Willoughby. It seems as though all Cabinet members are being forced to choose sides in this ominous struggle for dominance.

At the time of the Darcy Harassment Scandal it appeared as though Willoughby was the saviour of the Conservative Party, quickly jumping to defend the alleged victim Miss Marianne Dashwood and, according to another such person, Lucy Steele as well. Darcy's career seemed to be over but, by some miracle, he managed to keep hold of his job when many others were calling for his resignation.

Now it emerges that Marianne Dashwood and Willoughby have developed a closer relationship which relies on something much more than just gratefulness. At a party which was held last night by the Ferrars (the eldest son Edward Ferrars is the Minister for Education) there came a devastating revelation.

Miss Dashwood came across Willoughby wining and dining another woman, socialite and heiress Majorie Lavelle, and – so I am told – was outraged at his behaviour. Allegations were brandied about concerning what he had forced her to do and how he had promised her that if she went along with what he said then they could be married. One can only presume that this was in some way linked with the Darcy Scandal, which is now becoming entirely false. The situation was quickly stopped when Dashwood's sister Elinor took her out of the building.

Who knows what this young girl has had to go through as a result of her infatuation with Willoughby, but surely the more important question is, what will happen now and how will the Prime Minster react to what his bitter rival has done?

Meanwhile, Marianne Dashwood's sister Elinor has been caught canoodling in public with Minister of Defence, Chistopher Brandon. A government spokesperson has yet to deny or confirm these allegations, but we at the newspaper feel that the photographs obtained are telling enough.

There will be more about this story tomorrow, but turnover for more photos of the magnificent Beckham's penalty

Well, well, well, thought Will, it seemed as though Willoughby had well and truly caused his own downfall.

Wasn't life brilliant.

Chapter Sixteen

Posted on Thursday, 18 May 2006

Lizzy was nearing her parents' house when she realized the enormity of Lydia's actions and calculated exactly how catastrophic the results would be for all involved. Her family would be devastated, her standing as a MP whose party promoted family values would be ruined, and most of all....most of all...she was convinced that Will would never want to speak to her again. For the second time during the car journey she found herself crying, a thing which deeply aggravated her. Why should she be concerned over Will? He was only a man, only one man in a world which held many others. But it was because she loved him, because his house had felt so much like her own home, that she was so saddened, and her fury at her youngest sister's actions, at that moment, knew no bounds.

Jane was waiting at the front door as she arrived. Lizzy immediately noticed that something was wrong with her sister, her appearance was haggard and some of her optimism seemed to have fled from her, but she would not ask. Not now.

“Oh, Lizzy! What are we going to do? Dad's phoned the police but, but what if they can't find her?”

“Don't worry, everything will be fine, you'll see.” She embraced her sister and let her cry on her shoulder. She had the impression that Jane had been putting up a brave face for the rest of the family. “How's mum?”

“She's not really coping. She won't come out of her room, won't even get up.” Lizzy dug deep into her jacket pocket and produced one rather crumpled tissue and handed it to Jane.

“Well, now that I'm here she'll have something else to talk about.”

“What would that be?”

“My lack of a partner. Not very surprising though.” They began to walk into the house, Lizzy carrying her traveling bag over her shoulder. Jane noticed this and questioned her about it.

“Have you been somewhere?”

“What?”

“Your bag. You never bring that bag home. You've been somewhere.” Lizzy felt herself redden against her will. “You do have a boyfriend!”

“Jane, that is, that is the most absurd thing that I have ever heard come out of your mouth. Really. I mean, the only people I get to talk to are 'stuffy old politicians'. The majority of whom aren't very nice to look at.”

“Lizzy!”

“Come on, lead the way to the mother ship.”

Their mother's room was every bit as messy and floral as Lizzy had remembered it, but the atmosphere this time was decidedly different. The rose patterned duvet cover was drawn up round Mrs Bennet's shoulders and she was in grave danger of getting lost in there entirely.

“Mum! Lizzy's here.”

“Oh, Elizabeth Bennet! See what you have done! Lydia would never have done this if you had not been so rebellious.”

“What?”

“All that nonsense your father has been filling your head with! Whatever happened to the time when women were content to marry and raise a family. I never needed a job and my life was fine before all that political mumbo-jumbo.” So the wailing continued, all the while Lizzy sat in a chair beside her mother's bed, biting her lip. Surely it would do no good to provoke her mother even more.

“Where's dad?”

“Your father went to that hell hole London to try and find Lydia and that horrible Wickham man! Goodness knows what'll happen to him!” And so started another burst of tears. Lizzy really didn't have the patience to put up with this, luckily Jane was there to stop her saying or doing anything to make the situation worse.

“Mum, maybe we should let Lizzy settle in, get unpacked. We'll be back up in a minute.”

Their mother let out a disgruntled sigh, “Why do you need to help her? She's perfectly capable of doing it herself.” Lizzy shot her mother a covert dirty look. “But if she really must have someone then Kitty, you go.” Kitty, to be perfectly frank, looked relieved to be granted an escape from that room and her mother.

They were soon in Lizzy's old room – she didn't think living out of the house would go down too well with her mum so she had stayed here for the moment – and Kitty immediately flopped down onto the bed.

“What's the matter with Jane? She seems very-”

“She's moping.”

“Why? I know that the Lydia thing is hard on her but..” Kitty interrupted yet again.

“It's not that. It's Charles Bingley – he's dumped her.”

Lizzy dropped a jumper she was unpacking onto the floor and then sat down beside her sister. She couldn't believe it! The few times that she'd been able to see them together she'd always presumed that the two of them were in love with each other – Jane, she knew, had definitely been affected by that madness – and she had been so sure that he had been as well. Gosh, what her sister must be feeling right now.

“He just sent her an e-mail. Couldn't phone, couldn't come in person. Said he was too busy in London.” They sat quietly, Lizzy still in a state of disbelief. “I think it was his sisters. I mean, he was like so into her and....I don't know. It's really strange.”

That made sense; his sisters had influenced him.

“Probably some of his snobby friends had a say too. Didn't you say that some of those politicians were completely up themselves?” Kitty's words had long since become inaudible to Lizzy's ears.

Snobby friends...

It couldn't be.

No.

It wouldn't be.

He wouldn't do it.

Would he?

“Lizzy? Lizzy? Oi!” Kitty whacked her on the arm.

“Ow! What'd you do that for?” Lizzy rubbed her arm and glared at her sister, concern over who exactly may have advised Bingley momentarily left behind.

“You were totally out of it. Jane says that tea's here.”

“Oh, ok. Tell her I'll be down soon. You can go, I'll just finish unpacking.” Kitty looked unsure, but soon her older sister shooed her out of the room anyway and so she went down to greet the pizza man. According to Kitty, fast food was becoming a firm fixture in the Bennet household.

I wonder if Will's managed to get proper food yet.

No, she wouldn't think of that. Not when his name was now so utterly associated with Jane's unhappiness.

She felt a pang of sadness and bitterness inside her and could sense the rage building up. Scowling, she grabbed her jumper and chucked it into a nearby drawer which slammed as she shoved it closed.

“Lizzy! Pizza'll get cold!”

“Coming!” Her reply was terser than she would have liked.

But then, maybe junk food and ice cream would do her good after all.

Dinner was over and Lizzy had run up to her room again, with the ruse of unpacking. In truth, she was obsessing about what she believed to be true – how could he do that? How dare he? What gave him the right?

A knock interrupted her inner rant and Jane hesitantly came in.

“What?”

“Sorry, I'll come back later.”

Lizzy put her head into her hands, trying to blink the tears back at the same time.

“Lizzy? What's the matter?” Jane rushed to her sister's side and pulled her into a hug. That was the final straw for Lizzy, and she just leant into her elder sister's embrace and let out all the tears she had been holding back.

“Oh Jane, Jane, this is awful.” She felt guilty; surely Jane was the one who should be in tears, not her. But then, she couldn't stop it.

“You don't have to tell me anything, but -”

“It's Will.”

“Will?”

“Will Darcy, you know – Charles' best friend.” She felt a bit, well a lot, guilty at bringing Bingley's name into the conversation, but it was done now and Jane would have to get used to the pain. “Men are stupid. They're stupid. Big, stupid men.”

“I know.”

“And Will's like the most stupid of all the stupid men in all of the stupid male dominated universe.”

“What's he done Lizzy? You're scaring me.”

She couldn't tell Jane – wouldn't tell Jane – what Will had done regarding her relationship with Bingley, but she found that she did have enough strength to divulge some of the information about what had happened between them. Her sister listened in silence throughout the whole account, occasionally tightening her grip on Lizzy's shoulders in an attempt to comfort her.

“Lizzy. Don't worry, everything'll be fine.”

“No, it won't! Will won't speak to me ever again and...” She took a deep breath and moved away from Jane's hug. “I wish I was as optimistic as you, Jane.”

The elder Bennet sister looked down at the floor and Lizzy could tell that she was thinking of Bingley. With the exception of a brief romance when she was in secondary school, Jane had never really been involved with many men and, as a result, had never faced this kind of betrayal before.

“I miss him. Charles, I mean.”

“I know.”

“I...Lizzy, I think I love him.”

This time it was Lizzy's turn to offer support to her sister. “Jane, just keep one thought in your mind.”

“What's that?”

“Men are stupid.”

Continued in Next Section