Pemberley, Inc.--Section II

    By Cheryl K

    Beginning, Section II, Next Section

    Part XIV

    Elizabeth waited on the front porch in a light red sun-dress and sandals, anticipating William's arrival with equal parts pleasure and nervousness. Her aunt and uncle had shown up briefly to collect more food and pillows; smiled absentmindedly at her plans for the evening; announced that they had found a lovely hollow down the beach where they hoped to spend the night, with a fire, the pillows, and blankets they'd taken down earlier that afternoon; and departed as quickly as they'd come, leaving her alone in the big, empty house. There had been no message from Jane, although they'd been scheduled to talk today; Elizabeth wondered at her sister's silence, but she had more immediate concerns.

    She thought the immediate concern looked darn good when he pulled up five minutes later. His white Oxford shirt and khakis accented his tan, and the cuffed sleeves showed his muscles nicely. "William," she said warmly.

    "Miss Elizabeth." They stood and admired one another for a moment, then he reached back into the Jeep and emerged with a spray of white orchids. "These are for you," he said shyly.

    "Thank you!" she cried, with real pleasure, and buried her face in the fragrant petals. The picture of her dark curls against the alabaster blossoms made his heart beat crazily, and his arrhythmia only increased when she lifted her head at him. "Thank you," she repeated.

    "Shall we go?" he said, almost stammering again. She nodded, still smiling, and they set off. He was driving the same Jeep Georgiana had tried to kill her in earlier that day, and she told him so. He groaned.

    "I'll have you know you were riding with an unlicensed, overenthusiastic, completely crazed driver."

    "I'd guessed most of that myself, thanks."

    "She once was driving along the beach and ended up driving into the beach--the car was too heavy to go over a certain dune, but she didn't turn back, not Georgiana Darcy. Nope, she went straight ahead and completely buried the front end in sand. She had to pay for the new engine out of her allowance."

    "That sounds like my sister Lydia. A month after she got her license, she was driving to some friend's lake house, leaped a ditch, crashed through a fence, and hit a horse." He half-laughed, half-gasped. "The horse lived, but Lydia's Camaro - and driving privileges -- didn't." She reflected painfully that the restrictions had lasted only three weeks and that Lydia had had five more wrecks in the two years since; but her sister's behavior was never a pleasant topic, and Elizabeth resolved to forget her family and enjoy the evening.

    "What are your aunt and uncle doing this evening?"

    "They've apparently taken up residence down the beach, and won't be returning to the house tonight." She blushed at what such information implied and hurried on. "What do Georgiana and Charles have planned?"

    "Georgiana was going to look up some old friends in Bellaville, and Charles didn't have any plans that I'm aware of. Caroline was going to find a vocal instructor, I understand." He said this with a straight face, and it wasn't till Lizzy burst out laughing that he permitted himself to do so.

    She was surprised when he took the turn for Elizabethsport rather than Bellaville; and still more surprised when he bypassed the main street of restaurants and clubs for the coast road. A couple of miles down that, and they swung into the bay docks.

    "You're taking me to the Georgie Dee," Lizzy predicted happily.

    "Not quite," he replied, with a serious look that startled her into silence. They pulled up next to a sparkling white and maize sailboat, and William cut the engine. "This is her," he said finally.

    "The Elizabeth Darcy," she read, and turned to him, eyes wide.

    "For my grandmother, whose portrait you saw," he explained, flushing. "We use family names over and over and over -- that's why Georgiana is Georgiana -- but there's never been another Elizabeth. She's a good little boat, with a lot of spirit, and I thought the name fit."

    "Yes," was all she could reply.

    Once on the boat, Lizzy looked about her in delight. Gold and red pillows blossomed on the cushioned sofas ringing the sides; the white Christmas lights looped about the mast and railings were reflected in the shining teak deck. And low in the hull, a small table was set for dinner for two, flowers, candles and all.

    "William!" she exclaimed. "This is wonderful!"

    If she keeps on smiling at me like that, I'll eventually die of happiness--or else suffocation, since I keep forgetting to breathe. "Would you like the fifty-cent tour?" he said aloud.

    At her nod, he opened the door to the living quarters, and Lizzy ventured down the stairs. Everything below was as beautifully and neatly outfitted as all above, and she admired the well-designed galley and the surprisingly spacious sitting area. A passageway at one end of the cabin revealed a bedroom with a full queen-size bed.

    She turned from this view and found herself face-to-face with William -- or rather, face-to-shoulder, since he was four inches taller than she. They both froze. Lizzy had never been this close to him before, and she was suddenly, vitally, sensually aware of everything about him: a curl that tumbled across his forehead; the soft raggedness of his breathing; a faint scent of cologne and sea breeze; how he filled the hallway they stood in. His eyes were dark upon her, and he took a deep breath.

    "Ready to cast off?" he said unsteadily.

    So he's affected by me in the same way I'm affected by him, Lizzy thought, and nodded. William turned and preceded her out of the cabin.

    "You'll have to help," he said, speaking more easily once they were back in the open air. He showed her how to loosen the ropes holding the boat to the dock, then he opened the sails. An obliging breeze sent them rolling swiftly and merrily along. He gave her a quick sailing lesson once they were out of Pemberley Bay, then they took turns steering. Lizzy was enthralled.

    While she steered, William set up dinner, which he had waiting in the galley refrigerator: salad, stewed oysters, cold wine-roasted gammon, a ragout of celery, and parfaits made of ice cream and apple pie. He glanced over his shoulder; she was gazing out across the sea beatifically, not paying any attention to him at all. He slipped a long, thin white box out of his pocket and laid it across her plate.

    He bowed to her. "Dinner is served, madam."

    "Can I drop the anchor?" she asked with an almost childlike enthusiasm. William laughed and showed her how to do it, then they settled into chairs for dinner.

    She saw the box and looked at him questioningly. "Should I open this now?" He nodded. Her fingers fumbled at the ribbon, pushed open the lid, and emerged dangling a delicate silver necklace with a ethereal star-shaped pendant. She contemplated it wordlessly.

    "It's a cross-section of a Pemberley star," he explained. "They're crustaceans that grow beautiful five-pointed star-shaped shells, and they live only here on the island -- and even here they're very rare. Do you like it?" he finished lamely.

    In answer, she swept back her dark hair and fastened the gossamer chain around her neck. The luminescent star gleamed on her breastbone, echoing the brightness of her eyes. "I like it very much," she said sincerely. "Thank you. For this, and for everything."

    He smiled. "The evening's only begun, Elizabeth."

    "Then I can't wait for the rest of it."

    "Music!" he said suddenly. "I'll be right back." He disappeared into the lower deck. "Do you mind listening to yourself?" he called.

    "Yes!" she called back.

    "Then I'll try something else." A few seconds, and Ella Fitzgerald swung quietly into "Lady Be Good."

    "Good choice," she said on his return, and they began dinner.

    "What was your childhood like?"

    "Quiet, privileged, rich. Winters in private schools and summers on the island."

    "Boarding schools?"

    "No, not until I went to Andover when I was fourteen. Our family was very close, and we tried to stay together as much as possible."

    "The opposite of mine; we were always off in different directions whenever we could. Father would work, and Mother would shop, and Jane and I were given free rein whenever we weren't in school."

    "So what did you do?"

    She grinned at him. "Oh--played tennis..."

    "George Gershwin or Harold Arlen?"

    "Oh, Arlen. More variety of melody. Thelonious Monk or Duke Ellington?"

    "Ellington. I prefer the straight stuff to be-bop. Sarah Vaughn or Billie Holiday?"

    "Sarah. Billie's too emotional."

    "That's what most people like about her."

    "Not I, I thank you. Ella Fitzgerald or Dinah Washington?"

    "Hmm, that's a tough one. Dinah for blues, Ella for jazz. What do you think?"

    "Ella all the way across, I'd say..."

    "So then Charles turned bright red and said 'This is my room. What are you doing here?"

    "Oh my gosh, that's terrible!"

    "You're laughing at it--"

    "Yes, and I can't seem to stop, but I shouldn't be--it's terrible--"

    "Don't worry, he had his revenge. The next week I came home to find one 'Topsy Curvy' in my bedroom...on Parents' Weekend, no less..."

    Elizabeth finished her parfait and leaned back to look at the stars. The white sails flapped lazily above them, and Glenn Miller's "Moonlight Serenade" swayed from the speakers. "It's such a lovely night," she said comfortably. "I don't know how you could have made it more perfect, William."

    "Would you like to dance?" he asked.

    She smiled. "That might do it." He took her hand and pulled her to her feet, and they faced each other for a moment, him still holding her hand. Then he slipped his own hands around her waist. The Serenade ended and slipped back into Ella Fitzgerald.

    Heaven, I'm in heaven
    And my heart beats so that I can hardly speak
    And I seem to find the happiness I seek
    When we're out together dancing cheek to cheek

    They weren't dancing cheek to cheek, rather maintaining a comfortable but small distance. He whirled her out and back in, and she spun a little closer to him.

    Dance with me
    I want my arm about you
    The charm about you
    Will carry me through
    To heaven, I'm in heaven
    And my heart beats so that I can hardly speak
    And I seem to find the happiness I seek
    When we're out together dancing cheek to cheek

    She drew closer still, and by the time Dinah Washington rang out the first notes of "I've Got You Under My Skin," she was fully and truly in his arms.

    Neither of them could believe it.

    I've got you under my skin
    I've got you deep in the heart of me
    So deep in my heart you're really a part of me
    I've got you under my skin

    I tried so not to give in
    I said to myself this affair never will go so well
    But why should I try to resist when darling, I know so well
    I've got you under my skin

    Elizabeth laid her cheek on his shoulder, relishing his warmth through the cool cotton, and feeling her own warmth rising at the nearness of him. Her experience in the cabin below came back to her tenfold, and she closed her eyes. She couldn't resist...

    The music changed once more, and Louis Armstrong's familiar voice tumbled into the night.

    You go to my head
    And you linger like a haunting refrain
    And I find you spinning round in my brain
    Like a bubble in a glass of champagne

    Yes, you go to my head
    With a smile that makes my temperature rise
    Like a summer house in July
    You intoxicate my soul with your eyes

    They swayed slowly together to the end of the song; and then, for the first time all evening, the music stopped.

    Elizabeth raised her head and looked into his eyes. "Would you like to come back to my house?" she said clearly.

    He could only nod.

    "Well, then," she said, and smiled; "Let's go."

    He very nearly rivaled his sister for speed on the way home.

    Elizabeth let them in. "Have you ever been here before?" she asked, suddenly nervous all over again.

    "Only the other morning. I don't know Ms. Lambton very well."

    "It's a lovely house."

    "So it is." He stopped in the silver-paled living room and looked at her. "Elizabeth," he said carefully. "Much as I want to be with you, let's not take this too fast. We have time."

    She nodded shakily. "We have time," she repeated. They gazed at each other for a moment.

    William tried to shake off their gravity. "Well, since I played for you the other night, why don't you play for me?" He gestured to the piano.

    Lizzy shook her head. "I'll sing all you like, but I can't play, I'm afraid."

    "You mean you can't play and sing at the same time."

    "No, I simply don't play the piano."

    "You sing so well, yet you don't play the piano?" he asked incredulously.

    "I play it enough to pick out notes," said Elizabeth defensively. "And I do know a few simple tunes." She sat down at the piano and launched some random chords.

    "It's a beginning," he said with a grin.

    "What, do you want to teach me?" she retorted.

    "Let's see what you already know." He slid onto the bench next to her.

    She began to pick out the melody to 'Heart and Soul.' When she had run about halfway through it, he filled in the lower register with the strong major chords, adding variations, curling the sound around them intimately. The third time through together, Lizzy sang along:

    Heart and soul
    I fell in love with you
    Heart and soul
    The way a fool would do
    Mad-ly,
    Because you held me tight
    And stole a kiss in the night

    Heart and soul
    I begged to be adored
    Lost control
    And tumbled overboard
    Glad-ly,
    That magic night we kissed
    There in the moon mist...

    At this point, she stopped playing altogether, and Mr. Darcy took over both registers.

    Oh, but your lips were thrilling,
    Much too thrilling
    Never before were mine
    So strange-ly willing

    But now I see
    What one embrace can do
    Look at me
    It's got me loving you
    Mad-ly
    That little kiss you stole
    Held all my heart and soul.

    Her hands returned to the piano for one more bar, then both instinctively ended on the same chord. They looked at each other and laughed, and all the earlier good feeling was restored instantly.

    But as their smiles slowly faded, the look, and the feeling, held and deepened. She noted again how dark his eyes were, how long his lashes--and how generous his lips. He saw only her eyes, gleaming, like moonlight on the dark sea. Slowly, slowly, they leaned in towards one another, their eyes closing...

    At that moment, the fax machine rumbled and beeped.

    Part XV

    Just like in my dream, thought Elizabeth.

    Just as in my nightmares, thought William.

    They opened their eyes, their faces--their lips--still inches apart. Each saw wanting in the other's eyes, and each knew the moment was lost for good. Yet the promise of that wanting spoke of more moments to come... Elizabeth smiled and sat back, but reached a hand across the gap to touch his face. "I'm sorry," she said. "Jane never had worse timing."

    He smiled back and put his hand over hers on his cheek. "Well, I'm not planning on going anywhere."

    "Good. Neither am I."

    "Except to get your fax. Please." William released her hand and leaned back. "We have time," he said seriously.

    Her sudden flush told him that she fully remembered when the phrase was last used between them, and she crossed the room to the now-silent machine. While she read the message, he tapped out the melody to "I Could Write A Book"; but his attention returned wholly to her when she collapsed into a faraway chair.

    Lizzy -- I hardly know what I write -- is there no phone service on your island? You are wanted at home, as soon as you can. Lydia has returned from her trip to South Padre Island, with a man in tow as usual -- but it is George Wickham this time, and they are married. They came home by way of Las Vegas -- other than that I do not know myself how it came about. I took the children to the lake cabin for four days, and they were here when I returned. -- Wickham has been installed on the board of directors of the company, in my place, and we--they--revote to decide the new chair of the board tomorrow. Mother might throw it to Wickham in your absence and mine (she has already given him the company charge number); Kitty and Mary are too easily influenced by her, and I suspect Wickham's money. -- No, no, I refuse to suspect -- W bought a new Porsche yesterday; it was his money, and not our own, I am sure. -- I lie; Lizzy, they've been spending company money as if it will never run out, and it is frighteningly close to doing so -- Father is worried at the money but has no power to control them. Your good reason and good sense can persuade them to stop I am sure. I have tried to fax this four times already, the machine has destroyed my note each time. Do not stop to call -- come home please -- yours J.

    "Oh! This is not to be borne!" cried Elizabeth. "We must go at once." She sprang up from the chair and collided with William, who grasped her arms to steady her.

    "Good God! what's wrong?" he exclaimed. "What can I do to help?"

    She turned away from him, shaking. "My aunt and uncle -- down the beach, in a hollow, that way -- can you? -- you know the beach better. We have no time to lose."

    "Is it an emergency? Are they needed?" At her desperate nod, "I am off -- but wait. You'll have to leave Pemberley?" She nodded again, and he drew a breath. "You'll need to call Sr. Avigadro about the hydroplane then. Let me get the cell phone for you from the Jeep." The errand complete, he ran out the back door in search of the Gardiners. Elizabeth watched him disappear, then used the phone to arrange the details of their departure: the plane would be waiting in an hour. She hurried upstairs to begin packing, her mind working over the events:

    Why would Wickham want to marry Lydia? Is he that in need of money? He knows our financial state. Why us? It cannot be for revenge. I was closest to him, idiot that I was, and he left me, not the other way around... are Lydia's personal attractions that great? Were they drunk? What can I use against him? How can we get rid of him? Of them? This will destroy all our credibility, both business and personal...what will William think? ... William.

    She stopped folding and sat down on the bed. He will want nothing to do with a company associated with George Wickham, nor with anyone from that company... he won't let Bingley be so blemished either, I am sure... I shall never see William again as he was this week. She lifted her hand to her necklace and curled around the delicate points of the star. I ought to return this to him...

    A door slammed. "Elizabeth! Are you all right?" William called.

    She descended the stairs. "I'm fine, thank you. Are they on their way?"

    "In time. They're getting their things together." He paused. "May I ask why you have to leave?"

    "You may, and I'll tell you." Elizabeth laughed shortly. "It will soon enough be generally known. -- My youngest sister Lydia has married, but it is no cause for congratulations: she is now Mrs. Wickham." A dark expression crossed his face, but she continued steadily. "Yes, that Wickham, our own dear friend George. And my mother, delighted at last to have a son-in-law, has put him on the board of directors, and given him the charge number, and he is bankrupting us even as I speak. They vote tomorrow for the new chair of the board; my father has not been well, and my mother has said repeatedly that he should retire. I don't think she'll miss her chance to install her new favorite male as head of the company, and Wickham's sure to take it. I -- we, my aunt and uncle and I -- must be there to stop him. The plane waits in an hour."

    He turned and paced the room; she saw all her thoughts on his reaction confirmed in each step he took away from her, and their promised moments had dissipated like soap bubbles. Lydia, for once your timing was impeccable. Elizabeth spoke again. "I thank you for all your hospitality this last week, and especially for dinner tonight. It was wonderful while it lasted." She stopped to refocus her thoughts. "Georgiana and I had arranged to go scuba diving tomorrow; if you would please make my apolog--"

    "Would you let me help you?" he said quietly.

    She faced him. "No."

    "A loan, a consulting job on our Nevada development, a project..."

    "It's not necessary yet. I can handle my family."

    "I know Wickham, and it will be necessary. Your pride won't save your company. Please, Elizabeth. It would give me great happiness to help you."

    "I don't mix business with pleasure."

    "Can't you separate the two?"

    "With you?" She swallowed painfully. "No."

    Silence and space stretched between them. Then he spoke.

    "Marry me."

    She stood perfectly still.

    "It will solve everything. With Pemberley behind you, your mother is sure to give you her support; we can spare the money easily. We'll get you through this crisis and whatever else he" -- he spat the word -- "might inflict upon you. And Elizabeth..." He paused. "After tonight, I do not know if I can live without you."

    She sat down on the nearest available seat. Then she realized it was the piano bench.

    "We can work out living arrangements and the business end later. Please, Elizabeth. It would make me the happiest of men."

    "William," she breathed, and lifted her eyes to his. "I cannot." She saw the color drain from his face. "Our business is our own; we can handle it, we don't need help. And the other... I do not know what I feel. I do not mix business with pleasure... You will not want to align yourself with Bennets after this."

    "Let me decide what I want. I want you," he said roughly. "Not for business but pleasure. -- The business be damned, it can take it."

    "And I can't do that!" she cried. "I can't unmix the two, not under these terms. You can step away from the business, you have others who can take care of it... but my family has no one but me. This week has proved that. And we can't take it. Our independence, our pride, if you will, is the only thing we have left." She swallowed again. "Whatever my personal feelings might be... in a different situation..."

    "But it's this situation." He turned away. "I'm sorry to burden you with this, Ms. Bennet. You did not need anything more at this time."

    "William--"

    "Please say good-bye to your aunt and uncle for me."

    "Please--"

    He stopped in the front doorway, silhouetted by moonlight, and looked across the room. "Take care," he said, and then he left.

    She heard the car start. At that moment, her aunt and uncle hurried in from the back, their arms full of blankets. "Lizzy!" Mrs. Gardiner cried. "What's the matter? Why do we need to leave?" She glanced around the room. "Where's William?"

    "We ran out of time," said Elizabeth, and burst into tears.

    Part XVI

    Elizabeth pressed her face against the cool glass and watched the plane pull away from the surface of the water. Her fingers absently wrapped around the star pendant still dangling from her neck. Goodbye, Pemberley, she thought longingly, and then: Goodbye, William...

    "Lizzy," said Mr. Gardiner gently, "we need to talk about what's going to happen when we get home."

    His niece sat up and rubbed her eyes. "Yes, of course," she said, and suddenly she snapped into full business mode, as if the proposal less than an hour before had never happened. "First of all, the board elections. Mother's right in a way: it is time for Dad to give it up, especially after that last attack. And he's ready to retire. Which means that the chairmanship should probably fall to me." She paused. "As well."

    "Do you think you need anything more to do?" Mrs. Gardiner asked carefully.

    "Do you think there's anyone else to do it?" Lizzy flared, then stopped. What had happened on the island was affecting her after all. "I'm sorry, Aunt. It's just... this news came at a bad time..."

    "You don't need to explain," the Gardiners said in unison.

    "And it is one more thing for me to do, and there isn't anyone else to do it," she finished desperately. "Which is part of the reason why-- but that's not important. What is important is that we're a family business and everyone in the family is a board member, except Jane is now replaced with Wickham, and so the votes--"

    "Why did your father set it up that way again?" broke in Mr. Gardiner.

    Lizzy took a deep breath and looked a little embarrassed.

    "It was actually my idea. Mother, Kitty and Lydia could be counted on not to appear, and Mary might show up maybe half the time, so with you two, me, Dad, and Jane, we always had a sensible quorum while making the rest feel a part of the business. Besides, that way we didn't have to go outside the family." Her uncle nodded. "But as Wickham took Jane's place while Jane was gone, the others now have a majority." She smiled bitterly. "It's a pity it has to end up like this, us versus them, but we're going to need either Kitty or Mary to defect to us in order to defeat them."

    "And how do we do that?"

    "I don't know. Wickham's capacity for self-interest is endless; he may well be paying them somehow for their votes, which will complicate the whole mess even more... that's the other thing, the money situation. Wickham has the charge number--probably several of them, if I know Mother and Lydia. There's really no way to close off those numbers without shutting the whole account system down, though we can try. I also need a general financial report, including whatever hell broke loose in the last four days. Aunt Maddie, can you do that?" Mrs. Gardiner nodded. "Uncle Edward, you check the state of our current projects, see what we can pull in quickly without hurting their progress. They'll do fine, if we can get them to opening. A month and a half, maybe, for that complex out by the highway. That much time... we'll make it. We have to."

    Elizabeth leaned back in her seat. "And now, I'm going to sleep until Miami. Wake me then, please." She closed her eyes.

    She dreamed in black-and-white: the dark curve of a grand piano ... the ebony and alabaster lines of its keys ... a pale boat on black water ... and luminous against the night sky, the gleaming outline of a pearlescent star.

    Part XVII

    Author's Note: A disclaimer, just in case: The names of real people are used below to give the story a blend of '90s authenticity and pure nonsense. Their actions and words should in no way be taken as the real people's actions and words. I made all of it up. Thank you.

    "TAXI!!!" Mr. Gardiner called.

    "Are you sure we have everything off the baggage claim, dear?" asked Mrs. Gardiner.

    "Ourselves in that board meeting is the only thing we need right now," Elizabeth said grimly. "Here's one -- come on!" Mr. Gardiner gave directions to the Bennet Development offices, and the city spun by the cab window.

    "The meeting will have started at ten," said Elizabeth. "What time is it now?"

    Mr. Gardiner looked at his watch. "Nine fifty-three."

    "I wish Georgiana were driving," she murmured to herself.

    It was 10:11 when they reached the Bennet Building. Elizabeth flung herself out of the taxi and through the front doors. "Why, Ms. Bennet," said the startled receptionist at the front desk. "I didn't know you were returning so soon--"

    "No one did," she replied. Including me. "Where's the board meeting going on?"

    "Fourth floor banquet room." Before the words were out of his mouth, she was in the elevator punching buttons. She waited impatiently as it rang off three floors, then strode down the hall to the wide double doors.

    The tableau that greeted her was not a pretty sight. Her father sat slumped over at the head of the table; her mother and Lydia each hung on one side and every word of a preening George Wickham. Kitty was listening to her Discman, and Mary bent eagerly over William Bennett's latest volume of moral instruction. Jane alone noticed the person framed in the door, and her face lit with hope as she ran towards her sister.

    "Oh, Lizzy!" she said as they embraced.

    "Am I too late?" Elizabeth asked in a low voice.

    "No, you're fine. Dad was stalling, he insisted on reading every word of the minutes aloud." She looked at her father, whose lips moved in silent concentration. "He's the only one doing it, though. Lizzy, should we give it back to him?"

    "It's him, me, or you -- if we can do it at all."

    "Why, it's my dear new sister Elizabeth!" Wickham exclaimed, with all the enthusiasm and sincerity of a used-car dealer.

    The rest of the room (except for the oblivious Kitty) looked up.

    "Lizzy!" cried her father with relief.

    "Elizabeth!" called Lydia triumphantly. "Come meet my darling Wickham!"

    "Elizabeth," said her mother displeasedly. "How nice to have you home."

    "How nice to be home," Elizabeth said slowly. "And to have a new brother-in-law." Mr. Gardiner came in and shut the doors. "Though you forget, Lydia, that Mr. Wickham and I have met before."

    "I understand you were vacationing at Pemberley Island," the man in question said with a smile. "A beautiful place. I've spent many wonderful hours there."

    "Could we go there for our honeymoon, George?" Lydia stood and slipped an arm around his waist. "You said we could go on our honeymoon as soon as this was over."

    "We'll decide later, dear," he replied, sliding out of her embrace, his eyes never leaving Elizabeth's. "We have this to do first."

    "Yes," Lizzy said, "and we ought to get to it. Motion to dispense with the reading of the minutes."

    "I second," called Mr. Gardiner. The family returned to their seats around the table. Elizabeth took her place at the foot, opposite her father, and Kitty pulled her headphones off.

    Mr. Bennet was ready. "Motion has been made to dispense with reading of the minutes. All in favor?" It carried. "The next, first and last item on the agenda -- with the recent reorganization of the board, Mrs. Bennet has nominated George Wickham for the position of chair. Any seconds?"

    "I second," said Kitty. Lizzy's eyes met the Gardiners' across the table. We can't rely on her. It has to be Mary.

    "I third," simpered Lydia.

    "Move to open the matter for discussion," said Elizabeth. Mrs. Gardiner seconded. Mrs. Bennet, Lydia, Wickham and Kitty voted nay; there was a long, dreadful hesitation when they reached Mary -- but she voted yea, and the motion passed.

    "Mrs. Bennet, you have presented the nomination," her husband said formally. "Would you open the discussion with a description of your candidate?"

    "I would." Lila Phillips Bennet stood up and gave a large smile to the assembly. "I just want to say first that it is just such a pleasure to have everyone together and home, and to have the newest member of our family here with us. Stand up, George." She applauded enthusiastically as he came to his feet, gave an embarrassed wave, and sat back down. Only Lydia and Kitty clapped with her. "No, George, stay standing." He stood, shifting from one foot to the other as she unfolded a piece of paper. "Ahem." She delivered another insincere smile and began her panegyric to her three days' son-in-law.

    "I present for the consideration of the board Mr. George Chandler Wickham. George has held numerous positions of responsibility. He was the properties manager at Pemberley Inc. for nine months, during which time revenues increased by sixty-five percent."

    Elizabeth looked at Mary, who appeared impressed.

    "He was then unfairly fired by the owner of the company, William Darcy. After this disgusting action against him, George had a brilliant career in Washington and Hollywood. I have here a statement of recommendation from Mr. Kenneth Starr, special prosecutor in the Whitewater affair." Mrs. Bennet peered at her audience to make sure they were properly awed. "Ahem. 'In his far-too-brief tenure with us, George Wickham was very useful for our purposes. His expertise at publication and misdirection is amazingly developed in one so young -- in fact, it reminds me of myself!'" She frowned at the paper, evidently thinking this egotism inappropriate in one of such high office. "'He also supervised our intern staff.' Well."

    She picked up another sheet. "This recommendation comes from California and one Mr. Jerry Springer. Mr. Springer says: 'From January to June, George screened prospective guests for our program and did an excellent job selecting the persons most in need of my therapy and advice. He even appeared once on the show, in an episode entitled "I Was A Teenage--"'" Mrs. Bennet stopped abruptly, looked up at her son-in-law, down at the paper again, and back at the pale-faced George. "Yes. Ah. Hmm." She continued reading. "AndIevenforgavehim afterhisshowbeatmineinsomemarkets afterallthatiswhatpushedme todoashowabouttranssex--WELL!" she finished brightly.

    "After his career in Hollywood came to an end, George chose to work in the environmental movement. His group was instrumental in the salvation of the spotted condors of Westona, Michigan, and purchased 500 acres of land in Overland Park Heights to preserve a natural space in the midst of a suburban development. In the three years George has headed the Redwood Redcoats, they have received over five million dollars in grant funding from Fitz Doors."

    Elizabeth groaned inwardly. Fitz Doors, head of Macrosoft Corporation and the richest man in America, was Mary's idea of Adonis on earth; she appeared ready to swoon at his very name. Her mother knew it, too.

    "The first year Fitz Doors granted the Redcoats money, he particularly praised George's talent. Fitz Doors said, 'The leadership of the Redwood Redcoats is very talented and will greatly help solve environmental problems.' Fitz Doors continues to be proud of the Redcoats' activities and to donate money to their cause."

    Mary was practically prostrate.

    Mrs. Bennet smiled. "George has repeatedly demonstrated those skills Bennet Development needs most -- public relations know-how, a long list of contacts, and the ability to pick a winner. Why, Mr. Starr and Mr. Springer are still going strong! Pemberley Inc. would not be what it is today without the enormous help of George Wickham! We must not and shall not let the opportunity to have such a young, up-and-coming go-getter at the head of our organization!" She beamed at the man in question, who tried desperately to look like a young, up-and-coming go-getter -- and an unembarrassed one at that. "Thus, I nominate George C. Wickham -- a friend of Fitz Doors -- for chairman of the board of Bennet Development. Thank you." She sat down, and so did the candidate.

    Mary leaned forward eagerly. "Are you really a friend of Fitz Doors?"

    "Well, ah, not exactly--"

    "But you have met him several times, haven't you, George?" Mrs. Bennet cut in quickly. "At a conference or something?"

    "Ah, yes." Wickham took his cue. "I did shake his hand once at a fund-raiser in Oregon. Charisma, power, profits -- they radiate from the man. It was a privilege just to be in his presence." He shook his head reverently. Mary's worshipful regard seemed to inspire greater eloquence. "I caught a preview of Doors98 not long ago, and it's incredible. He is a visionary for our time -- the visionary, I should say. No one can rival him. Have you seen--"

    "For what cause were you raising funds?"

    "I'm sorry?" His gaze hardened in its five-foot shift from Mary to Elizabeth, but his smile lost none of its glossy sheen.

    "For what cause or candidate were you raising funds?"

    "It was a senatorial reelection campaign."

    "What year? For what candidate?"

    "Robert Packwood '94," he said quickly. "But I never shook his hand."

    "That's a relief." Elizabeth settled back in her chair. "To what do you attribute your great success as properties manager of Pemberley Inc., Mr. Wickham?"

    "Please, call me George." The ever-present smile was not returned. "Well, my great success. I--"

    "It was his natural talent for business, of course."

    "I asked George, Mother," Elizabeth said quietly.

    "Silly question," muttered Mrs. Bennet.

    "My father held the position before me, Elizabeth, and he instituted an excellent system for, uh, managing property. I continued in his footsteps before I was--"

    "Unfairly fired, yes, George. But still, such phenomenal growth? with a pre-existing setup? It's like nothing I've ever heard."

    "Perhaps you don't know much about business," said Lydia, who had never even thought about Bennet Development until her husband suggest they take it over.

    Her sister chose to ignore the comment. "Did you change any of your father's practices?"

    "We went with a different trash disposal company and we started recycling leftover resources."

    Like lead paint? Elizabeth bit back her reply. She had no proof of anything except the CD-ROM -- which they would instantly regard as biased -- and what she could make him say. And Mary still looked slightly moony at the name of Fitz Doors... "What other factors influenced the sudden swing in revenue?"

    "People wanted to live in the houses I took care of," George said proudly.

    "So you were personally involved in their maintenance? About how many properties did you oversee?"

    "It was several years ago, I really couldn't say--"

    "Try."

    "Would anyone else like to ask some questions?" Mrs. Bennet cut in hastily.

    "I will," volunteered Mrs. Gardiner. She turned to George. "How much of your organization's grant funding has gone to administrative concerns?"

    It turned out there were a fair lot of things Mr. Wickham "really couldn't say" -- the Redcoats' administrative expenses, how many condors they had preserved in Michigan, the current use of those 500 acres of prime real estate in Overland Park Heights, the amount Mr. Doors was able to write off on the organization annually. Nor could he name Bennet's three largest developments, the contractors the company employed, or any employees outside the immediate family -- not even the current head of property management, Heloise Hill.

    At one point in the discussion, Elizabeth caught Jane's eye and tipped her head ever so slightly towards Mr. Bennet. Jane looked: he was fast asleep. She slid forward quietly and tapped his shoulder to wake him; he sat up with a start and looked around. None of the rest of the family noticed.

    "Where did you receive your education, George?" asked Mr. Gardiner.

    "I studied at Brown, sir."

    "What was your degree in?"

    "I chose to develop my business skills with real-world experience, rather than invest further in a piece of paper."

    "Wise choice," put in Mrs. Bennet. "We gave three of our girls a good education, and not a one of them have husbands yet!"

    "That reminds me," Elizabeth said lightly, controlling her temper. "Lydia, I haven't heard the story of how you and George met when you were in Texas."

    "Oh!" Lydia said, grateful for the chance to speak after all this boring business discussion. "Well, you see, Courtney and Brittany and Greg and I -- or maybe it was Derek, I don't remember -- it was Saturday night in South Padre and we'd just spent all day at the beach -- we were so whacked, you know? And Greg -- or maybe Chad -- anyway, he really wanted Mexican but we didn't know any good Mexican places, so we found this place with a Mexican name. I think it was called 'Cerveza de Baño' -- I think that's right. Do you remember it, George?" He shook his head. "So we went in, and it really wasn't a restaurant, it was more like a bar, but it turned out they had these really great nachos. I mean, total food heaven. So we stuck around to eat nachos, and Courtney and Brittany and Greg -- or wait, Steve -- they started to drink, but of course I didn't. So it got to be like eleven and Greg -- no, I have it now, it was Dylan, yeah, Dylan -- he was saying that we ought to move on, there was this great party up on the north shore, you know -- and then George walked in the door, and we saw each other across the room, and it was just beautiful." She smiled ecstatically at her distracted husband. "The rest of them went to that party or something, but we spent all that night on the beach talking -- and stuff." She forebore to mention that the chief of his discourse had been questions about Bennet's current financial status, or to expand upon what "stuff" included. "He proposed to me as the sun came up over the water -- it was so romantic! He even chartered a plane to get us to Las Vegas, and we got married at Caesar's Palace Bacchus Temple that very day."

    Elizabeth looked at Mary. The effect of Lydia's monologue was more than she could have hoped.

    "We saw Fitz Doors there at the crap tables," Wickham added.

    Ouch. Mary brightened instantly. But she could think of nothing else to say to discredit him, and it was time to get on with it. "Move to close discussion and vote," Elizabeth said. It passed 9-0. She then moved that it be a public roll-call vote, which crept across the table at 5-4.

    Mr. Bennet was now fully awake. "The nomination has been made for George Wickham to be chair of the board of Bennet Development, Ltd. George, of course, will not be voting, and I will not vote unless it comes to a tie. All in favor, say yea. Elizabeth Bennet."

    "Nay."

    "Katherine Bennet."

    "Yeah, I guess."

    "Lila Bennet."

    "Of course!"

    "Lydia Bennet."

    Lydia looked up from contemplation of her latest manicure. "What? We're voting? Oh, yeah... I vote yes." She looked to her husband in hopes of an approving smile, but he seemed to be focused on one of her sisters -- Mary, for some reason. Whatever.

    "Edward Gardiner."

    "Nay."

    "Madeline Gardiner."

    "Nay."

    "Mary Bennet." She made no answer. "Mary Bennet." The time had come. Her terrified face swung around the table, surveying her assorted relations: her mother, who held up a picture of Fitz Doors, pointed to it, and nodded; her younger sisters, who looked back with spoiled, sullen eyes; her father, whose tired countenance at that moment seemed to show every day of his sixty-odd years ... surely he did deserve a break, as her mother had told her earlier; his nominated replacement, who smiled at her in a way Mary did not exactly like. And then her older sister, who returned her gaze calmly and evenly: You know what is right, and I trust you to do it.

    "Mary Bennet."

    "Abstain," she announced proudly.

    "Then we have a tie," said Mr. Bennet, "and, with all due respect to my newest son-in-law, I vote nay. The motion fails."

    "Well!" Mrs. Bennet glared at Elizabeth. "You'll regret not letting George run things, don't doubt it."

    "I think having him as part of the organization will be quite enough for me," said Lizzy.

    Mrs. Gardiner made the motion to adjourn, which passed, and the meeting broke up. Elizabeth spoke briefly with her father before heading toward the door.

    She had just stepped out of the room when Wickham called her name. "Lizzy, wait a moment." He broke away from Lydia's possessive grasp and came towards her. "I understand you spent time with William Darcy while you were at Pemberley."

    Her senses instantly went on guard. "We met on occasion."

    He shook his head. "The last time I was down there, he had just gotten a new yacht. He named it the something-or-other Darcy, of course, but then he took so many different women out for pleasure cruises that we started calling it the Love Boat." He noted her stiffened back and smiled. "Did you ever get the chance to see it?"

    "Once," said Elizabeth quietly, and shut the door.

    Part XVIII

    Thanks for your patience, everyone. In case you can't tell, I've been clearing out my lyric files of late. :) I dearly hope these links work (please give me about ten minutes before you try any of them); if not, I'll repost as soon as I can. Carolyn, please e-mail me when you move the story to the Guild, as the links will need to be updated then as well. I include the last three paragraphs of Part XVII for context; and, as ever, any and all e-mail and comments are deeply appreciated.

    As she made her leisurely way towards the club on 52nd, she wondered idly who would be performing that night. The Regency New York could generally attract decent names even on weeknights; legends were reserved for weekends, while only the very best newcomers could break in on a Monday or Tuesday -- she herself had had a Tuesday debut, just about seven years before. This was a Wednesday, so anything could happen.

    The Regency's brightly lit sign hovered golden over the street. Elizabeth glanced up, took a few steps more, realized what she had read, and came to a complete halt.

    ONE NIGHT ONLY - NEW YORK DEBUT - ON PIANO

    WILLIAM DARCY

    "Hey, what is dis, duh Metrapawlitin Moozeum of Awt? Move along awlreddy!"

    A shoulder slammed into Lizzy's back and pushed by her without stopping. She stumbled forward, the dark letters against the glowing sign leaving an afterimage in her dazzled eyes. William... here... at the Regency... A dazed joy tingled slowly through her veins: she could see him again, at last -- and where better to meet than here, with the music they both adored? The crowd and her unconscious feet carried her into the warm darkness of the club; the dark-paneled walls and deep padded chairs were as comfortable and familiar as home. She paid the cover charge and gave the waiter assigned to lead her to her table a beatific smile.

    He blinked. "Ms. Bennet! We didn't know you were going to be here! I'll get my father--he'll have a good table for you up front, just a moment--"

    With his words, the spell snapped. This was, in its own way, Pemberley Island all over again: she had no right to be there after the way she had treated him. And yet... and yet... The club was a small building; he was within fifty feet of her, in some direction, at this moment. So close and yet so far... She could see him, but she must not be seen. "Joey, wait!" she called. The eager young waiter swung around. "I'm on vacation tonight, so just a nice corner table, okay? Someplace dark where I can enjoy the music."

    "You sure, Ms. Bennet?"

    "Lizzy, Joey. And yes, I'm sure."

    He shrugged and led her through the filling club.

    "How's Moira?" Joey's sister Moira was a friendly acquaintance of hers from B-school; she ran a personnel firm based in the city.

    "She's okay. Business is good. I think she's around tonight, you want me to find her?"

    "No, that's all right."

    They arrived at a tiny booth on the main floor. Partitions backed the table on two sides, but left open a direct view of the stage; once the house lights went down, she would be appropriately hidden in shadow. She nodded gratefully at Joey.

    "Can I get you anything?"

    "Scotch on the rocks."

    "Gotcha." He wandered off; and Lizzy was left to look around at her surroundings, and to think of what -- or rather, who -- she was about to see.

    As she had not had an evening in almost a month, so neither had she thought about William Darcy -- except in brief painful flashes when a word or phrase would bring him before her until her conscious mind banished him again. And be banished he must, if she was to keep her sanity. She wished for that evening on the island back a thousand times -- she'd be quicker to kiss him, for one thing, and then less definite in her refusal -- refuse she must, that could not change under the circumstances; but perhaps less a refusal than a deferral...

    The lights softened; Elizabeth's heart ascended into her throat; and William Darcy walked onstage.

    He was happy, that was the first thing she saw. Something shone through him, lit him like a star; he reminded her of the Pemberley Island Darcy rather than the arrogant corporate suit she had first detested. He grinned and bowed lightly to the audience, acknowledging their applause, and swung immediately into an instrumental "I'm Beginning to See the Light."

    Elizabeth did not hear the first notes; her senses were caught entirely in looking. A single spotlight illuminated him and the curve of the grand piano, each simultaneously light and dark against the midnight-blue curtains. He wore fine black pants and a pressed white Oxford; the cuffs were turned back to reveal strong tanned forearms, just as they'd been on the night of their date. His hands danced nimbly across the keys, and his happiness poured through the music like blood through her veins. She hummed along with the joyous piano:

    I never cared much for moonlit skies
    I never wink back at fireflies
    But now that the stars are in your eyes
    I'm beginning to see the light

    And listening to him, looking at him, Elizabeth saw it: I love him.

    The never-before-consciously-admitted knowledge froze her in her seat. It was deep joy, followed by crashing despair; for why should he ever want to see her again? A man who has once been refused... But he must, he had to; she would go backstage after the show and apologize, explain. Her fingers unconsciously crept to her collar and wrapped around the Pemberley star she wore at her throat. She had never taken it off...

    The song came to an end, and William pulled the vocal microphone closer. He had to wait a good minute before the clapping ceased enough to allow him to speak. "Good evening, I'm William Darcy." Another burst of applause. "Thank you, thank you" -- he grinned boyishly -- "but you might want to wait till the show's over and see if you're still of that opinion." General laughter. "Until then, thanks, everyone, for coming out to the Regency tonight; and I hope you all enjoy yourselves and have a great evening. This is 'Stompin at the Savoy.'"

    The piano ran the music from tinkling opening to thumping end, and segued into a bright "Don't Mean a Thing If It Ain't Got That Swing." He was in quite an Ellington mood; from there he dipped into "Don't Get Around Much Anymore," and there he even sang:

    Missed the Saturday dance
    Heard they crowded the floor
    Couldn't bear it without you
    Don't get around much anymore...

    "Your drink, Ms. Bennet."

    "Thanks, Joey -- Eddie!" Eddie Bellingford, Joey and Moira's father, owner of the Regency New York, stood beaming beside her table. She owed her jazz career to this man. "Sit down, here, please, -- how are you?"

    "Lizzy Bennet, next time you're in town, you fail to tell me, and I give my club to some friend of Moira's instead, I conk you one, got it?" He squeezed her shoulder affectionately. "How's it going?"

    "Pretty well. You?"

    "Good, good. Nice crowd for an unknown."

    "It is," she agreed. "He's a friend of Moira's?"

    "Yeah, they've dated on and off since boarding school -- Andover, you know." She knew. "From what Moira's said, I gather it's on again just recently... She's been trying to get him to play here for years, don't know what did it this time. You know him?"

    Her earlier bubble of joy had trickled into cold. "A little."

    "He's a good guy. Kinda stiff, maybe, but a good guy. And he's got 'em in here tonight, that's for sure." He looked around the packed club; Elizabeth nodded, not trusting her voice. "Hey, why'd Joey stick you back here?"

    "I asked him to." She managed an old Lizzy grin. "I don't need all my fans torturing me for autographs on my evening off."

    "I believe it," he said emphatically. "When will you be back in town? I've got a stage up there just waiting for your dulcet tones."

    "Dulcet tones? Sounds like a backup group." Her mind dragged itself away from Moira and William and flicked forward over the next month's schedule. "Three weeks from now?"

    He groaned. "So long?"

    "Hey, I have to get a new gimmick, don't I? I'm not the only real-estate genius in jazz anymore." She tipped her head. "Maybe that's it, Lizzy Bennet and the Dulcet-Tones."

    Eddie ignored her. "On a Wednesday?"

    "What's open?"

    "The whole weekend."

    She pretended astonishment. "Unh-uh."

    "Uh-huh. I've been saving it just for you -- Friday, Saturday, Sunday, Lizzy B's Back with the Blues."

    Her smile lessened slightly. "An appropriate marquee."

    "I've heard." He patted her hand, then looked at her sternly. "You walked here, didn't you?" She nodded. "Here." He pulled out his wallet. "You take a cab home now, you got that? I wouldn't want my daughter out on the streets of New York at night, and I know you, you'll try to walk." His firm tone brooked no protest. "This'll make up for the charge at the door, and the drink's on me too. None of your damn Bennet pride at my club."

    The twenty lay curled at the edge of the table. Slowly, Elizabeth took it and tucked it into her purse. "Thanks, Eddie," she said quietly.

    "Three weeks. You give me a call," he commanded, and with a last stern look, which faded into a smile, walked away.

    Elizabeth was left alone with William's music, her earlier realization, and the thought of Moira Bellingford. Of the three, the first was the easiest to handle. She listened determinedly, willing out visions of beautiful successful Moira with focused attention to his style, color, and tone. He was simply superb -- Ellington's verve, Brubeck's rhythm, Monk's tonality, and an amazing interpretative ability entirely his own: she would never hear Cole Porter in quite the same way again. He would have rated a Wednesday debut easily, even if...

    ...even if Moira hadn't arranged this show.

    Eddie could be wrong. She, Elizabeth, certainly didn't tell her father everything that went on in her life. But William and Moira came from the same New York business and familial background; she was young, beautiful, friendly, intelligent; she ran a successful business that had made over $2 million in profit last year; she had no relatives of whom it was a disgrace to speak. And William was so happy... For all Lizzy's knowledge of the personae musicians adopted as they performed -- like a game, like acting, now happy for "'S Wonderful," now sad for "Smoke Gets in Your Eyes" -- it hurt knowing that, if he did mean every phrase of "Night and Day," he didn't mean it for her.

    After his voice closed over the last smooth notes, William lifted his hands from the keys for the first time. "Intermission," he said with a smile, and walked quickly offstage.

    The audience's applause quickly turned to a loud buzz of exclamation. "His first time performing in public..." "Can you believe it?" "Simply amazing!" "Reminds me of Chick Webb." "Incredible!" Even in Elizabeth's quasi-corner, the milling crowd pressed tightly against the table: much too troublesome and unnecessary -- and dangerous -- to try to get out. She leaned her head against the wall and closed her eyes. The warmth, the long day, and her tempest of emotions lulled her into calm, almost sleep.

    Suddenly something cold splashed stickily on her leg, and two sherry glasses clattered onto the table as the ex-contents of one spread across her skirt. "Oh, my goodness -- I'm so sorry -- you must let me -- here -- Elizabeth!" a voice finished surprisedly: and Lizzy looked up from the rapidly widening dark circle directly into the face of Charles Bingley.

    "Charles," she said, mustering a weak smile.

    "Elizabeth! What are you doing here?"

    "Oh, you know, here on business, looking for some good jazz..."

    "And you've found it, obviously." She nodded, and he hesitated only a moment before continuing: "We're sitting up front, a bunch of us -- Georgiana, Caroline, his Aunt Catherine, Moira -- would you care to join us?"

    "No, thanks. I think it's best if I stay here."

    "Oh. I see. Are you all right?"

    "You mean here? I'm fine -- I'll need to get a napkin, but--"

    "Yes, of course, just a moment--" He gestured to a passing waiter. "No, I meant in general -- Are you all right?"

    "I'm fine, thank you."

    "And your family?"

    "They're all well."

    "Yes." He hesitated again, then abruptly sat down across from her at the table. "Elizabeth -- I've been thinking a good deal lately..." He had to stop as the waiter brought a napkin and a small bowl of water; she tried to keep her head down to avoid recognition. "Business and relationships, they don't always coalesce..." The words stumbled out; Lizzy waited. He tried again. "It's been almost six months now..." It still didn't work. He sighed. "Elizabeth, I miss Jane."

    "She wouldn't know that," her sister said sharply.

    "No... I left town because I was ashamed of my behavior in the merger, and I stayed away, and didn't call, because I was ashamed of my cowardice in leaving. There was no good reason for why I left that wouldn't hurt her more than my silence." He smiled ruefully. "Business and relationships -- they don't always coalesce.

    "But the longer I've stayed away, the more I've thought about her -- especially after I met you again last month." She closed her eyes. "I miss her, and I would like to talk to her again."

    "He had nothing to do with your departure?" She pointed to the stage, where William had just returned.

    "William was very persuasive on the business side of things, but he leaves my personal affairs to me. And I am sorry -- deeply sorry -- for whatever hurt I caused your family and especially Jane. Especially Jane."

    "You would ally yourself with such a sullied company?" she said bitterly.

    "No," he replied softly, "I should ally myself with Jane. Nothing else matters."

    She said nothing, thinking.

    "If I called, do you think she would forgive me?" The silence lengthened. "Talk to me, at least?" A note of desperation entered his voice. "Elizabeth, please."

    "I can't speak for Jane, of course--"

    "I'm not asking you to," he interrupted hastily.

    "But the longest she's ever held a grudge is probably about half an hour." Elizabeth smiled a little. "Do you still know the number?"

    "Eight-one-five five-five-five twenty-two thirty-six."

    Her smile widened. "Yeah, if you can do that, I think you should call her."

    "Thank you. Ever so much." He hesitated, then said in a rush "He didn't come home till almost noon the next day, and then he wouldn't talk to anyone -- even Georgiana -- when he arrived. He just said you'd had to leave. We left, too, a day later." His eyes met hers with sympathy. "I'm not sure what's going on with him and Moira."

    Elizabeth's mouth would not seem to work. "He looks well," she managed finally.

    "Yes." They sat together for a few moments, listening to the piano's wistful enunciation of "This Time the Dream's On Me", each thinking about business and relationships, together and separate. At last Bingley sighed. "Caroline will be looking for her drink, I suppose -- and I have to get her another one now, don't I?" He stood and looked at her. "Your skirt's all right?"

    "Nothing the dry cleaners can't fix."

    "And you'll be all right?"

    "You won't tell him I was here?"

    "Are you sure?"

    "Please." The music slid into "I Get A Kick Out of You". She caught a brief glimpse of Georgiana at the front table. "Nor anyone else up there."

    "I won't, if you say so." He nodded. "Thank you, Elizabeth."

    "Goodbye, Charles." She watched him return to the front table; Caroline, she saw, remonstrated briefly with him over her lack of sherry, and at last sat back in her seat pouting. Lizzy smiled a little at the scene and sat back in her seat herself. Business. Relationships... Her heart hurt a little.

    William played for another half an hour, "Reflections in D" and "Autumn in New York" and, sure enough, another Ellington, a drawling "Do Nothin' Till You Hear From Me ". After that, he said "This will be my last song of the evening." The crowd let him know that they did not approve of this idea, and he smiled a little embarrassedly. "Again, I'd like to thank everyone who came out to the Regency tonight, and I'd especially like to thank the lovely and incredible Moira Bellingford, to whom I owe not only this wonderful evening but all my current happiness." His smile this time was directed specifically at the front table. "Moira, this one's for you."

    I was blue, just as blue as I could be
    Ev'ry day was a cloudy day for me
    Then good luck came a-knocking at my door
    Skies were gray but they're not gray anymore

    Blue skies
    Smiling at me
    Nothing but blue skies
    Do I see
    Bluebirds
    Singing a song
    Nothing but bluebirds
    All day long

    Never saw the sun shining so bright
    Never saw things going so right
    Noticing the days hurrying by
    When you're in love, my how they fly

    Blue skies
    Smiling at me
    Nothing but blue skies
    Do I see
    Blue days
    All of them gone
    Nothing but blue skies
    From now on

    He ran through it twice, with admirable improvisations, and stood and bowed. The crowd was deafening. He made it offstage; but the applause seemed to drag him back forcibly, and he returned for another bow. "Encore! Encore!"

    At last, he smiled and raised a hand. "One more song." The audience cheered. He sat down at the piano, and for the first time in Elizabeth's notice, his burning joy seemed to dim a little. He looked down for a long moment before he began to play.

    The way you wear your hat
    The way you sip your tea
    The memory of all that
    No no they can't take that away from me

    The way your smile just gleams
    The way you sing off key
    The way you haunt my dreams
    No no they can't take that away from me

    We may never, never meet again
    On the bumpy road to love
    Still I'll always always keep the memory of

    The way you hold your knife
    The way we danced till three
    The way you changed my life
    No no they can't take that away from me
    No, they can't take that away from me

    The last notes faded vibrant through the air, but William did not remove his hands from the keys. The audience was silent. At last he looked up. "Good night," he said softly into the microphone and disappeared backstage.

    Lizzy sat quiet in her corner, letting the murmuring crowd flow out around her. She was almost grateful Charles had spilled the sherry on her lap; she now had a napkin, something upon which to wipe her tears. But once most other people had departed, she left it crumpled on the table, and hailed a cab; and the next morning, she returned on the plane to -------- City.

    Part XIX

    While browsing lyrics on the Net, I actually found a song called "Elizabeth" -- but it's unfortunately way too depressing to use. We're getting happy now. :) Another site of note: The Sinatra Songbook, with 359 lyrics to Old Blue Eyes' best. Enjoy!

    The Friday morning after Elizabeth's return from New York, Jane floated dreamily into her office. Elizabeth had not told her of her encounter with Charles; besides not wishing to dwell on that evening any more than she must, she knew they two should work things out on their own. Taking one look at her sister, she saw he had come through.

    "You look radiant this morning," she observed.

    Jane smiled. "Charles called."

    Elizabeth smiled back. "And?"

    "We talked for six hours! He apologized and explained everything that had happened--" She broke off and looked anxiously at her sister. "I would rather not repeat the unpleasant past, but do you wish to hear it?"

    Elizabeth shook her head.

    "He hasn't seen anyone else since he left last November, and has only ever been thinking of me -- but he didn't call because he was afraid I was angry. So I said that I never had been, or at least, not after the beginning, and finally..." She beamed at her sister. "He shall be here on the first, just one week!"

    "Jane, that's wonderful!"

    "I told him to meet me at your concert, if that's all right."

    "Of course." Elizabeth mentally crossed "Lady Sings the Blues" and "Stormy Weather" off her planned song list.

    "I hoped it would be." She hesitated; though Elizabeth had not spoken of her quasi-depression after her return from Pemberley Island and then New York, Jane knew it existed; and she hated to be so self-centered, but everything must be just right... "Lizzy... you will sing pleasant songs?"

    To her relief, Elizabeth laughed. "Nothing but." She changed the subject. "Have the brats been around? I think George is ill -- he hasn't called to tell me the business account's running low."

    "I think Lydie said George is in Reno."

    "Wonderful. The account will probably be empty then -- I ought to check on it."

    "I'll leave you to your work." Jane paused again at the door. "You don't think I should be harder upon him? That book Kitty has--the one about catching Mr. Right--it says I shouldn't be so available, especially after he didn't call for six months..."

    "Darling Jane," her sister said. "Do you still like him?"

    "Yes."

    "And did you enjoy your conversation last night?"

    She blushed. "A great deal."

    "Then I'd ignore Kitty's book. I don't think you're cut out to be a Rules woman anyway."

    "Thanks, Lizzy." Her sister crossed the room, hugged her, and departed.

    Bingley called again that night, "just to confirm their meeting on the first"; and soon the miracle of modern communication kept the lovebirds in near-constant contact. Jane spoke with him every evening on the phone, exchanged e-mails and faxes during the day, and wanted only the man himself to make her felicity complete. She had not been despondent without Bingley, but neither had she been completely herself; and the rejuvenated love lit her with a joy Elizabeth had not seen in her for a long time. Both sisters carefully kept the news from their mother, who needed just the slightest word to send her into a flurry of matrimonial expectation; but Mr. Bennet and the Gardiners were made privy to the secret, and they were most pleased by both Jane's regained vivacity and its cause.

    As for Elizabeth, she felt strong and sincere delight at her sister's rediscovered relationship; but at the same time it filled her with a loneliness Jane's cheerfulness and chatter only increased. She threw herself into business with a ferocity borne of the desperate desire not to think. The weekend slowed her progress: as the rest of the corporate world was out of the office, she had no one to whom she might return phone calls or with whom she could draw up contracts or conduct negotiations. Then too the bank meeting had secured Bennet Development's stability for the next quarter, and their financial picture required less worry than it had for the month past. Thus try as she might, Elizabeth had time to remember, still moments when she found herself hearing William's rich voice or seeing again his countenance; and these pauses were never quite banished by the determinedly focused work which followed.

    She spent some time at home selecting music for the concert, nothing too personal, all pleasant as requested: "The Way You Look Tonight" for the opening, a little Fats Waller and Harold Arlen, Rodgers and Hart to close. She called her pianist, Kenneth, and they met that Tuesday to run over the repertoire.

    "Sounds good for taking a month off," he remarked at the end of the session. "No Ellington?"

    "Not for Friday," Elizabeth answered. If she left out both Duke and Irving Berlin, only Charles could guess why. Even this innocuous music shook her slightly; and she stayed at the club long after Kenneth had left, reviewing the songs and phrasings until her voice wavered not a note.

    Wednesday morning dawned much too bright, considering her late evening preceding it. She had, at the end, fallen victim to a rebellious impulse to sing "The Man Who Got Away"; and the dried tear tracks required considerable scrubbing to ensure their complete eradication. At last she dragged herself to the office and tried to compose herself for the day.

    "Morning, Mariah."

    "Good morning, Elizabeth." Charlotte's younger sister and replacement as Elizabeth's secretary was relentlessly in awe of her employer's exalted position. It had taken Lizzy five months just to train her to say "Elizabeth" instead of "Ms. Bennet."

    "Any messages?"

    "Mr. Goulding called, and you have three new e-mails."

    "From?"

    "Charlotte, Mr. Dyer, and Mr. Wickham."

    "Thanks, Mariah."

    Once in her office, Elizabeth poured a cup of coffee and sat down at the computer. Charlotte shared the latest gossip from Collinsco; Mr. Dyer reported that all was well and good with Haye Park. "Save the worst for last," she murmured, and opened Wickham's e-mail.

    MY DEAR ELIZABETH,

    IT IS WITH DEEPEST SORROW AND REGRET THAT I MUST INFORM YOU I WILL BE LEAVING BENNETT DIVELOPMENT. I HAVE RECIEVED AN OFFER TO BECOME HEAD OF SOCIAL RELATIONS FOR HUTTON FITZHUGH KITTREDGE CORP., AND I BELEIVE IT WILL BE OF GREAT BENEFIT TO MY FURTHER PROFESSIONAL DIVELOPMENT (BESIDES WHICH THEIR PAYING ME FIVE MILLION DOLLARS A YEAR PLUS FOUR PAID VACATIONS PLUS AN EXPENSE ACCOUNT. AND A JET.) TODAY I LEAVE FOR ALASKA TO TAKE THE POSITION. IT WILL END AFTER 18 MONTHS BUT BY THAT TIME I HOPE I SHALL HAVE ESTABLISHED A SUFFFICIENT NEST EGG TO SETTLE ON A NICE CARIBEAN ISLAND -- MAYBE PEMBERLEY, WHAT DO YOU THINK? ;) I HAVE TRULY ENJOYED MY TIME HERE ANDI DO HOPE WE WILL ENCOUNTER EACH OTHER AGAIN.

    THANKS.

    GEORGE WICKHAM

    P.S. MY FLIGHT GOES THROUGH LAS VEGAS. REMIND LYDIA TO SIGN THE DIVORCE PAPERS WHEN SHE GETS THEM. GW

    Part XIX

    The first time, it was a cruel joke.

    The second time, it was a dream come true.

    But the third time, it was reality; and Elizabeth's face lit in a smile as wide as a piano keyboard and as unconscious as George's spelling errors. Bennet was free!

    After reading the message a fourth time, just to be sure, she punched the call button on her desk. "Mariah! I need to meet with Dad, Edward, Madeline and Jane right now." Hutton Fitzhugh Kittredge? Who were they? Were they out of their minds? "And George, find out where George is -- send someone to check his office. Or wait, call the airport and see what flights are leaving for Alaska this afternoon." It was already ten-thirty, could they catch him before he took off? "And Lydia, I need to talk to Lydia. And the bank! He probably cleared out the accounts, get the bank on the line. And the suits in New York, and -- hey! see if you can find anything on Hutton Fitzhugh Kittredge--" Give the poor girl more to do, why don't you? "Or wait, Mariah, I'll check on George myself."

    Elizabeth shot out of her office, past her poor stunned secretary, and down two flights of stairs to George's so-called workspace. The movement felt good: she was suddenly filled with energy, as if his presence had drained Bennet Development of vitality as well as money, and now there was so much more life available. I'll call the contractors and the credit union -- we need another board meeting, to get Jane's seat back -- talk to PR and get a press release out -- no, the other company has to release one first, this could all still be a joke... I wonder what William will think? But her mind refused to speculate on the latter point: Stick to business, girl, you've got enough of it to do.

    The lights were on in George's office, which was surprising; Lizzy estimated he'd spent perhaps a grand total of six hours there during his tenure at Bennet. That hadn't kept Mrs. Bennet from decorating it in what she considered executive style. As a result, the room was furnished in mahogany and reeked of leather: leather chairs, leather panelling, leather mouse pad, leather footrest -- not to mention the leather of George's new Coach golf bag and attaché. But when Elizabeth pushed open the door, no overpowering aroma assaulted her nose; and instead of seeing expensive knickknacks on the shelves and the desk gathering a layer of dust, she found only a man in a jumpsuit, bundling up the aforementioned leather footrest amidst a wilderness of packages.

    "What do you think you're doing?"

    The man jumped, and she recognized his face -- and his UPS uniform. "Hello, Ms. Bennet. I was just finishing packing up Mr. Wickham's office."

    "His office? On whose instructions?"

    "Mr. Wickham's, ma'am."

    She looked around at the large boxed forms. "All the furniture?"

    He nodded, looking a little embarrassed. "Some office supplies too, ma'am. That box there is all paper clips."

    "Really." Elizabeth crouched and peered at the shipping tag.

    GEORGE WICKHAM
    ICO HUTTON FITZHUGH KITTREDGE CORP.
    1763 KINNIKINNICK ST.
    ANCHORAGE, AK 99501

    "When did Mr. Wickham call you?"

    "Last Friday."

    Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. "Well. May I rescind the order? I'll pay you for your time." The man agreed, and she made the appropriate arrangements. "George can get his own desk furniture," she muttered as she ascended the stairs.

    "Ms. Bennet, I have Lydia on the line."

    "Thanks, Mariah." Lizzy shut the door to her office and stabbed the phone with a pencil. "Hello, Lydia?"

    A huge wail echoed down the line: "El-iz-a-beth..."

    Oh lord, she knows. "Lydie, what's the matter?"

    "Oh, it's so sad..."

    "What is it? Are you upset about George and Alaska?"

    "Lizzy, he died--"

    "What? Who died?" George? She had a sudden terrible vision of her victory dance not five minutes before...

    "Leo, Elizabeth, he died for Rose." She erupted in a fresh sob. "And it's so sweet and so sad... Do you think George would die for me?"

    Her older sister tried to control her temper. "Lydia, turn off the 'Titanic' soundtrack and calm down. Where's your husband?"

    "I don't know," she said sulkily.

    "I received an e-mail from him this morning announcing his resignation. It says he plans to take a job with some company in Alaska -- do you know anything about this?"

    "No... he never talks about stuff like that with me."

    "Well, he should have." Elizabeth decided now was not the time to discuss George's postscript. "If he calls you, will you have him contact me?"

    "Okay." Lydia hung up without saying goodbye.

    Jane came in at that moment. "Lizzy? What's going on?"

    "Great news -- but let's wait till Dad and Aunt Maddie and Uncle Edward get here." In the meantime, Elizabeth printed out five copies of the e-mail and read it over again. Now that her first elation had faded, she felt only an overwhelming sense of relief -- and increasing puzzlement. All of her first questions returned in force: what was this Hutton Fitzhugh Kittredge corporation? The Fitzhugh sounded vaguely familiar -- why? And why on earth did they want George?

    When the other three members of the party had assembled, a solemn Elizabeth distributed the printouts. Her merriment briefly returned upon witnessing their characteristic reactions: Jane smiled, Mr. Bennet looked thoughtful, Mr. Gardiner slapped his knee and Mrs. Gardiner clapped her hands. When the celebration (such as it was) subsided, she described the scene she'd found in George's office.

    "So he's been planning this since at least Friday," she concluded. "Probably before, if he had the mailing address already. And this mysterious project he's on -- any ideas?"

    "Head of Social Relations," said her uncle. "Perhaps they want him to work parties?"

    "And establish new contacts -- he seemed very good at that," suggested Jane.

    "Hutton Fitzhugh Kittredge Corporation," murmured Mr. Bennet. "I've never heard of them."

    "I'll see what I can find," Madeline Gardiner said. She went to her niece's computer and opened Netscape.

    "I'm not sure I believe his salary. Five million a year, plus an expense account and a jet? It could just be exaggeration, that wouldn't be unprecedented--"

    "How much was he taking from us?" inquired Mr. Gardiner.

    Elizabeth closed her eyes. "A little under four million in the past two weeks, but I don't know how long we could sustain that pace. He would have known that."

    "And he wouldn't have gone anywhere with lesser prospects," said Mr. Bennet. "So I'd say it's true."

    "W-W-W-dot-H-F-K-dot-com," murmured Mrs. Gardiner.

    "Has anyone spoken to Lydia?" asked Jane.

    "She doesn't know anything."

    "Not even the divorce?" said Mr. Bennet.

    "Nope. Care to draw straws to break the news?"

    "They're based in Anchorage," Mrs. Gardiner reported. "They're very interested in adapting igloo-building techniques to traditional housing."

    "Instant ice for his drinks. I'm sure he'll appreciate that," Elizabeth said bitterly.

    Mr. Gardiner said, "Don't look a gift horse in the mouth, my dear."

    "I'm not," she answered softly. "I'm very grateful to whoever has taken him off our hands."

    "Lizzy," said Mrs. Gardiner.

    "But I wish I could understand why," she continued. "It makes less than no sense. How did they hear of George? What do they want from him? Why him, of all the worthless people on earth?"

    "Lizzy," Mrs. Gardiner repeated.

    Her niece smiled ruefully. "And where do I send the thank you card?"

    "Elizabeth!"

    "What?"

    "Come here and look at this."

    She walked across and rested her arms on the back of her aunt's chair. "What?"

    Madeline tapped her fingernail beneath a line on the screen. Lizzy leaned closer.

    Hutton Fitzhugh Kittredge Corp. is a wholly owned subsidiary of Pemberley Inc.

    Continued in Next Section

    Appendix

    Cheek to Cheek
    by Irving Berlin

    Heaven, I'm in heaven
    And my heart beats so that I can hardly speak
    And I seem to find the happiness I seek
    When we're out together dancing cheek to cheek

    Heaven, I'm in heaven
    And the cares that hung around me through the week
    Seem to vanish like the gambler's lucky streak
    When we're out together dancing cheek to cheek

    Oh I'd love to climb a mountain
    And to reach the highest peak
    But it doesn't thrill me half as much as dancing cheek to cheek
    Oh I'd love to go out fishing
    In a river or a creek
    But I don't enjoy it half as much as dancing cheek to cheek

    Dance with me
    I want my arm about you
    The charm about you
    Will carry me through
    To heaven, I'm in heaven
    And my heart beats so that I can hardly speak
    And I seem to find the happiness I seek
    When we're out together dancing cheek to cheek

    Come on and dance with me
    I want my arm about you
    The charm about you
    Will carry me through
    To heaven, I'm in heaven
    And my heart beats so that I can hardly speak
    And I seem to find the happiness I seek
    When we're out together dancing cheek to cheek
    Out together dancing cheek to cheek
    Out together dancing cheek to cheek

    --As sung by Ella Fitzgerald on the Verve CD "Ella Fitzgerald: The Songbooks"

    I've Got You Under My Skin
    by Cole Porter

    I've got you under my skin
    I've got you deep in the heart of me
    So deep in my heart you're really a part of me
    I've got you under my skin

    I tried so not to give in
    I said to myself this affair never will go so well
    But why should I try to resist when darling, I know so well
    I've got you under my skin

    I'd sacrifice anything come what might
    For the sake of having you near
    In spite of the warning voice that comes in the night
    And repeats and repeats in my ear:

    Don't you know little fool you never can win
    Use your mentality
    Wake up to reality
    But each time that I do
    Just the thought of you
    Makes me stop before I begin
    Yes, I've got you under my skin

    I'd sacrifice anything come what might
    For the sake of having you near
    In spite of the warning voice that comes in the night
    And repeats and repeats in my ear:

    Don't you know little fool you never can win
    Use your mentality
    Wake up to reality
    But each time that I do
    Just the thought of you
    Makes me stop before I begin
    Yes, I've got you
    Yes, I've got you
    Yes, I've got you under my skin

    --As sung by Dinah Washington on the Mercury CD "Compact Jazz: Dinah Washington"

    You Go to My Head

    You go to my head
    And you linger like a haunting refrain
    And I find you spinning round in my brain
    Like a bubble in a glass of champage

    You go to my head
    Like a sip of sparkling burgundy bleu
    And I find the very mention of you
    Like a kicker in a juliebird too

    Oh the thrill of the thought
    That you might give a thought
    To my plea
    Casts a spell over me

    Still I said to myself
    Get ahold of yourself
    Cna't you see
    That it never can be?

    Yes, you go to my head
    With a smile that makes my temperature rise
    Like a summer house in July
    You intoxicate my soul with your eyes

    Though I'm certain
    That this heart of mine
    Hasn't a ghost of a chance
    In this crazy romance
    You go to my head
    You go to my head
    You go to my head

    --As sung by the inimitable Louis Armstrong on the RCA recording "Corrina, Corrina: The Original Motion Picture Soundtrack"

    I Could Write A Book
    by Lorenz Hart and Richard Rodgers

    If they asked me
    I could write a book
    About the way you walk and whisper and look
    I could write a preface
    Of how we met
    So the world would never forget

    And the simple secret of the plot
    Is just to tell them that I love you a lot
    Then the world discovers
    As my book ends
    How to make two lovers of friends

    And the simple secret of the plot
    Is just to tell them that I love you a lot
    Then the world discovers
    As my book ends
    How to make two lovers of friends

    -- As sung by Harry Connick Jr. on the record "When Harry Met Sally: The Original Motion Picture Soundtrack" Copyright 1940 by Chappell & Co. Renewed, all rights reserved.

    © 1998 Copyright held by the author.