Section I, Section II, Section III, Section IV, Section V

Lisa Bennet stared out the window of her office at the newly-rising sun. The plush grounds of United Plastics on this June morning were more beautiful than she had ever seen them. The dewy grass shone brilliantly, and the sky was a perfect blue. She smiled as she noticed her watch, which read seven-fifteen. Third shift's leaving, she thought, and watched as the first of several cars and trucks trailed out of the parking lot. This was more predictable than the very sunrise she sat watching. Or at least it was now. As far as the future was concerned . . .

She sighed as thoughts of the meeting she would soon be attending crept into her mind. So what if the president of the company would be there? He wouldn't be president much longer. After news of the buyout of United Plastics was released, he had tendered his resignation. And so what if the new president and CEO of the corporation would be there? The people she knew in upper management had told her that the man gave them a chill. He was not only the president and CEO, but the owner as well. Lisa was sure that soon, whether she liked it or not, she would be placed under some type of management, be expected to dress in "professional" attire, have her pay cut to a straight salary, and be limited to the number of hours she could work as an effort was made to cut indirect labor. She loved her job as the payroll director there, overseeing the processing of more than three hundred paychecks a week. She was able to work on her own, and managed four others, who appreciated her leniency. She wore jeans, tee-shirts, and ponytails. Uhh . . . she thought, I hate pantyhose!

Her computer beeped at her. "Transfer complete, huh?" Better work this time, you sorry . . . she reached for the mouse, and clicked the ok button.

There was a knock at the door, and she looked up. A tall, broad-shouldered man stood in the entrance, wearing coveralls and a backwards ball cap. She smiled. "Hey, Gary," she said.

"Lis," he said, his big voice seeming to shake the walls of her office. He held a small piece of paper out. "I got a problem here."

She rose, walking around her desk, and took the paper, the man's paycheck stub, from his hand. "Forty hours, second shift. Well, I can see two things wrong with this," she said.

"You, too?"

"First, you're always on third shift, and second, you haven't worked a forty-hour week since you got here. This must be at least . . . a hundred and fifty bucks off." She handed the check back to the man. "How you fixed this week?"

"Well . . . I got a truck payment, and Danielle-"

"Don't worry," she said, hearing the name of his young daughter, who had been in and out of the hospital due to heart problems since she was born. "I've got you covered. Let's figure out what we owe you." She sat at her desk, motioning for him to sit. "What'd you work?"

He sat down, and listed off his hours. "Plus I got called in on Wednesday and Friday, so that's four more hours."

"Your Saturday hours were from when to when?" she asked, wanting to get his overtime and double time pay right. He answered, and she punched away at the calculator for a moment. "Two hundred and thirteen dollars and fifty-five cents. Lemme write you a check." She reached for the safe.

"No, it's okay, Lis," he said. "You don't need to go to trouble. Just stick it on next week."

"Gary, look, you're owed this money. I'm writing you a check now." He smiled at her, and let her go about her business. She handed the check to him with a smile.

He took it from her small hand, folded it, and rumpled his forehead. "You know much about what's going on this morning with the head honcho?"

She shook her head. "I know I gotta be in the meeting. I know he's not going to be too happy when I show up in jeans." She paused. "But . . . they're my best jeans!"

He smiled at her. "I heard he'll be here for a while. Heard he wants to check things out for himself. Probably wants to get rid of some of us."

"Some of us, Gary, not some of you. You're lucky in this instance, you're protected by the union. They mess with you, they gotta find three hundred and twenty-three new workers by the time the next shift starts."

He nodded in agreement. "Yeah. But you don't think they'd get rid of you, would they?"

"I'm not sure what to think. But I got a feeling tomorrow morning I'll be showing up in a skirt." She gave a feeble laugh.

"This guy got a name?" he asked.

"I don't know. D . . . something. D . . ." she rifled through some papers on her desk. "Ah. Fitzwilliam - what kind of a name is that? - Fitzwilliam Darcy, President and CEO of G & A Industries." She read over the memo again. "England."

"Huh. Well, good luck, Lis," said Gary. "I gotta get to the bank, and Danielle's appointment is at eight thirty. Gotta shower up." He smiled at her. "Thanks for your help. Hang in there."

She returned the smile. "No problem."

When he was gone, she turned back to the computer to begin the everyday aspects of her job. Hours calculation, vacation days, department transfers, pay raises. But she had to admit, this Darcy guy sounded like a tyrant. She was getting chills just thinking about him.

Fitzwilliam Darcy stared out the window of the limousine, rubbing his chin. Well, the grounds are satisfactory, he thought to himself as he surveyed the outside of his new building.

"What is the itinerary today, Wickham?" he asked of his assistant.

"A continental breakfast in the conference room to meet the office staff," he read, "eight AM. At eight thirty, the tour of the factory shall begin. At ten the office staff shall gather in the same conference room, and the meeting will begin. There are sure to be a lot of questions, Mr. Darcy."

"Thank you, Wickham, I think I can handle questions on my own. I've answered more difficult ones in my life than, 'Am I going to have a job in the morning?'" He smiled inwardly as he thought of the time his younger sister Georgiana had asked him where babies came from. "As soon as I assure them that this corporate takeover they have been so afraid of is just rumor and falsehood, everything will be just . . . fine." He continued to stare out the window. He was tired due to the long flight, short rest, bad coffee, lack of tea, and constant nagging from George Wickham. I want to go back to London . . . to Derbyshire. Pemberley Manor. My sister is returning home from Harvard; I should be there to greet her. But his board of directors had insisted upon this trip at this time.

"It will do you good to face the employees as soon as possible," one had told him. "Purely a public relations issue, but I assure you, there will be much less upset." After a tiresome fight and a long discussion with Georgiana, he agreed. Now he regretted it.

He and his vice-president, Charles Bingley, stepped out of the car as the door was opened for them. "If we're so concerned with public relations," he asked of Bingley, also his most trusted friend, "why are we being driven to this place and treated like old ladies?"

"I agree," piped Bingley. "Doors opened, coffee poured." He gave a chuckle. "Not that you care for coffee. Fitzwilliam Darcy is English to the bone."

During the "breakfast," as Wickham had called it, he shook hands and engaged in pleasant conversation with managers and receptionists, secretaries, human resources, purchasing, and finance personnel, all the while Wickham pestering him to smile. "I do not feel like smiling," he said tightly finally, "therefore I suggest you stop asking me to do so before you wind up smiling on the unemployment line." Wickham had turned away from him and went on about his business.

He had actually been insulted, though, during the tour of the factory. The general manager was the guide, and had explained to him every menial operation of the plant. Again, fed up with being treated like an old lady, he said, "Beg my pardon, Mr. Keller, but I do own seven other plastics manufacturing facilities. I understand the basic process."

"Ah," said the dippy manager, undaunted, "well, I guess there ain't no point in showin' y'all the vats!"

Wickham had actually laughed at that, and went forward with Mr. Jesse Keller. Darcy simply rolled his eyes and joined Bingley, who was smiling, but not because he was amused at Keller's joke.

"Mr. Wickham's attempt at humoring is quite charming, don't you think, Fitz?" he asked.

"Charles, I must apologize if I am not myself today. The flight was long, and now my head hurts . . . there was no tea this morning. You know how I get when I don't get my morning tea."

They continued along the tour, Keller continuing to stop and describe every menial thing he saw. Bingley, being the good-natured one, smiled along and asked questions, most of which received a threatening look from Darcy, as he knew Bingley knew the answers.

"Why are you humoring this oaf?" asked the older man.

"Darcy, I do believe you are over reacting. Wickham is right, it's good for a little PR."

"Charles, in a month's time, I will never see these people again. I will be happily back in London. And before you say anything, right now I am not the least bit concerned with my constituency's good opinion. Besides, you know how I detest that drawl Keller speaks with."

"Fitz, you are in quite a mood," commented Bingley.

"I simply wish to be at home for Georgiana's return from Harvard."

"Perhaps Wickham could fabricate a convenient story to get us out of here a little more quickly."

"Wickham is half my headache," snapped Darcy.

"Really, Fitz, what is it with you and Wickham lately? You haven't got a thing nice to say to him, or to anyone else about him. Did you argue?"

"Charles," said Darcy, the tips of his ears turning red, "I no longer wish to discuss Wickham."

"Very well," said his friend, undaunted, "but I assure you, I will get this story out of you."

"You're welcome to try," said Darcy, and turned his limited attention back to the manager.

By the time the tour was over, Darcy was glad of a rest from Keller's nonsensical blather. He sank into one of the comfortable conference room chairs to stare outside. As he waited for the people to gather in the room, he thought of his previous conversation with Bingley. Should he tell his friend his troubles with Wickham? He needed to talk to someone. He was aware that around his home office, Wickham was known as "the human side of Fitzwilliam Darcy," and it used to humor him. But now that he knew Wickham's true nature, he was leery of having connections to such a man.

Unfortunately, he had come upon this bit of information at his sister's expense. Georgiana was much younger than he, twelve years and fifteen days to be exact. He had hoped her relationship with George Wickham would flourish, though he had the normal "big brother" concerns. After all, Wickham was also older than she by the same measure, and therefore more experienced. But he had trusted his friend. He found out just how far that trust would get him that March, when he'd returned a day early from London. He stood in the kitchen of the old house, making himself a cup of tea after having sent the housekeeper to bed. He heard the door slam open, and footsteps as Georgiana ran into the house crying, Wickham chasing her right up to her bedroom. Darcy had followed, bounding up the stairs.

He found Georgiana laying on her bed, obviously terrified, crying, and soaking wet from the rain. Wickham seemed poised for an attack on her.

"What is going on?" he hollered in a deafening voice.

Wickham had stopped in his tracks, and Georgiana flew into her brother's arms. "Wickham, what on earth is going on?"

"Fitz," he said, swallowing, "we were just . . . having a little quarrel. We did not expect you until tomorrow."

"Obviously not," he replied snidely. "I don't suppose you're going to tell me what it is you've done to make my sister dissolve into tears and become terrified, but I shall find out. You are no longer welcome at Pemberley or in London. You may address me as Mr. Darcy. As of this moment, our personal relationship is over."

"Fitz, I think you're over reacting."

"Wickham! Get out of my home! You will be lucky if I don't fire you, you miserable pig!"

Wickham had tried to protest again, but Darcy cut him of with a resounding, "Shut up!" and called for the butler. "Show Mr. Wickham the door," he instructed, and as Reynolds ushered the wet man out, Georgiana collapsed again against Darcy's chest, sobbing.

"Oh, William, William, thank God you're home," she cried, "thank you for being home. I was so afraid he would hurt me, William." She weeped into his shoulder for a good while, Darcy patting her hair and making soft shushing noises until she calmed down. He asked why she cried so, but Georgiana hadn't wanted to discuss it. She finally came to him a week later and talked to him, telling him every detail he wanted to know and every detail he didn't.

"If you hadn't been there, William, he would've . . ." she stopped, the tears threatening to spill over again. "I was so scared." Her voice was almost inaudible. She sat with her brother, her head on his lap and her feet up on the couch in the library as she explained the whole frightening ordeal, how the evening had started out as perfect as could be, but Wickham had turned violent after they kissed . . . she began crying again. "He said that he would get me pregnant and I would have to marry him, that he would make me love him . . . and he scared me so much. He hadn't even been drinking."

The fury built up inside of Darcy, but he remained silent and listened to Georgiana as she talked, wanting her to get it off her chest and help soothe her mind. When she was done and had wandered upstairs to bed, he left the house and went to the stable. He saddled his best horse for a vigorous ride around Pemberley's wet grounds. It didn't help. He'd decided the best thing to do would be to face George Wickham himself. He rode into town without changing his wet, muddy clothes.

"Where are you, you miserable slob!" he hollered as he entered the unlocked door of Wickham's spacious apartment. Wickham stumbled out of the bedroom, obviously inebriated. Darcy advanced on him. "How dare you treat my sister like a London harlot! How dare you insult her like that! You miserable, drunken, pathetic slob! I demand an explanation!"

As Darcy finished his tirade, another, smaller, more female drunken form stumbled out of the bedroom. His rage was renewed. "And now you have the audacity to . . . to take another to bed with you!"

"Fitz-"

"Do not call me Fitz! Never call me Fitz! I am no longer your friend. You betrayed my trust in you, you threatened to violate my sister! For the life of me I shall never understand why you did this to me. How could you do this to me?!"

"Look, Fitz-"

In a rage of fury and with a flying fist, he silenced George Wickham on the subject of his name forever. "Darcy," he said, picking the man up from the floor and pinning him against the wall. "As far as you're concerned, I am Mr. Darcy. Sir. I certainly hope you understand that. I hope you also understand that your career at G & A Industries has just come to a screeching halt." He left the apartment and had walked all the way back to Pemberley in the rain, suffering for the next two weeks with cold.

Chapter 2

"Mr. Darcy?"

He looked up into the eyes of the very man he loathed, almost forgetting where he was. His eyes burned into Wickham's. "What is it?" he asked tightly.

"The meeting," he said, swallowing. "The meeting is about to begin."

His eyes became huge as Darcy stared at him. He even thought he saw a bead of sweat trickle down the side of Wickham's face. He almost smiled at that, the thought that Fitzwilliam Darcy could make George Wickham sweat . . . but he didn't like it; it made him feel . . . guilty. His parents had always taught him to be proud of who he was, but humble at the same time. He paused a minute to put his previous reverie out of his mind. "Very well." He stood as Keller began to speak.

"Well, thank y'all fer comin'," he said with a smirk, "though ah don' reckon y' had much choice. 'Fore I let Mr. Darcy talk at y', ah jus' wanna say 'at ah don' think y'all got much a anything ta worry 'bout. G & A Technology is a great corp'ration, an' they ain't gonna do nobody wrong."

What on earth have you just said, man? thought Darcy. He gave Bingley a knowing look, and the vice president took over with a grin upon his lips.

"Thank you, Mr. Keller," he said, standing. Keller nodded and sat. "Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. My name is Charles Bingley, and I am the vice president of G & A Industries." He threw a grin over his shoulder at Darcy. Bingley took on a casual air as he spoke, telling the people gathered there the intentions of their new parent company. "I can assure you," he finished with a final smile, "that you are secure in your positions. There may be a few upper management changes, but no one shall lose his or her job due to the purchase of United Plastics. Are there any questions I may answer?"

A few hands went up. "If you could, please, let me know your name and your department." Bingley pointed. "Yes?"

"My name is Kurt Lammeman; I'm an associate buyer here with purchasing," said the man, standing.

"Mr. Lammeman, it's good to meet you," said Bingley.

"Thank you, sir. I guess my question is whether there will be any kind of name change. I'm concerned about the massive costs that would be involved in changing our image. Our letterhead, outside signage, our internal and external forms, envelopes, business cards . . . to replace all of these things all at once would be not only a huge project but a phenomenal cost."

"If I may, Mr. Bingley?" said Darcy, standing. Bingley nodded, stepping back. "A very valid question. First, my name is Fitzwilliam Darcy, and my family owns G & A Industries. I am currently the president and CEO. Your question, Mr. Lammeman. As I mentioned previously to Mr. Keller, G & A Industries owns seven other plastics manufacturing facilities. The board is considering a name change, but the change would be effective to the other facilities. Your name, United Plastics, would be the perfect descriptive of what we want to accomplish. This is not a confirmed change, but Mr. Bingley and I are quite confident that our board of directors shall vote in our favor. I believe this is what Mr. Bingley was eluding to-"

Darcy was distracted as a tall, slim woman slipped in the door to his right and quietly sat in the nearest chair she could find. Despite her efforts at silence, she managed somehow to smack a chair with the door, and the small noise was enough to make him turn his head.

Bingley noticed his friend's preoccupation and continued for him.

At first, Fitzwilliam Darcy was insulted that someone had the audacity to be late to this meeting. But as he caught her mysterious, elegant eyes, his irritation disappeared. What an angel she is! Her clothing was a direct contrast to what the others in the room wore, almost defiantly different. Where the majority wore suits and skirts, she wore a pair of light blue jeans and a white tee-shirt. A pair of electric blue ropers adorned her small feet. Her shiny dark hair was pulled back from her face in a loose ponytail, a few curls bouncing along the back of her neck and along her cheeks. Her fleshy pink cheeks . . .

"Darcy."

His attention snapped back from his angel as Bingley nudged him.

"Perhaps a little history on the company, Darcy. Miss Birling inquired as to your beginnings."

"Ah," said Darcy, his attention back on the task at hand. "Thank you for asking, Miss Birling," he said, having no idea who he was addressing. "The company was founded in 1768 by George Darcy. His wife's name was Anne; thus . . . G & A Industries." He continued to talk, looking at the floor, out the window, or at indiscriminate male faces, wanting to get the hauntingly beautiful image out of his mind and so he could concentrate on the rest of the day.

Rounding a corner some time later on his way back to Keller's office, he was stopped as he heard Keller's voice resonating through the halls, accompanied by a smaller one, though just as fierce, if not more so.

"Now just look a-here, sweetheart, ah told y' ta be in that room on time, an' ah expect y' ta do's ah say. Ah 'm yer boss, ain't I?"

Darcy stepped forward slowly, and was taken aback as he recognized the beautiful young woman who hollered so fervently at Keller as his angel with the electric blue ropers. Her entire face was red with fury, but Darcy found her more beautiful than before.

"Look, first of all, I'm not your sweetheart, and if you continue to refer to me as that I will have a harassment suit against you. Second of all, you may sign my paycheck, but you're no boss. You talk to me like I'm a twelve-year-old. You take all the credit for everything that goes right, but if anything goes wrong it's all Lisa's fault. Now, I had almost twenty errors on paychecks this week, and I had to fix them. Big mistakes, Jess. For pity's sake, John Peterson's check was almost four hundred dollars off! He didn't even get paid his base forty hours. If you would let me hire my help these things wouldn't happen, but you let that pig in human resources do it! I've got four girls to work with who haven't got any skills! Alicia can hardly type, and Carole couldn't add two and two if you told her the answer was four!"

"Look, now, just calm down, an'-"

Darcy took a few more steps forward. "I beg your pardon," he said, quite gentlemanly, "but Mr. Keller, I do understand that business cannot wait while meetings occur. When a person's pay is miscalculated, it is perfectly acceptable to expect a correction immediately. 'Twas my meeting, and I am not insulted in the least."

"I'm sure the little lady's thankful fer a little help from higher up, but frankly, Mr. Darcy, this is my turf. She's one ah my managers."

Lisa was infuriated. "Dammit, Jess! Why don't you understand? Why don't you get it? I'll be damned if I'm going to stand here and let some half-witted jerk talk to me like that! My father didn't raise me that way! I am not your little lady!" With that, she turned on her heel and headed back to her office, mumbling all the way.

Darcy looked at Keller, trying not to let his anger show. He had always tried to be a gentleman, something his father had taught him, but this was business, and during this trip, business had to prevail. Professionalism won out, and he suggested that Mr. Keller and he continue to his office.

Lisa Bennet, on the other hand, was furious. She stormed into her office, only to find yet another payroll problem. She apologized, paid the man, and locked the door behind him.

She took a moment to relax in a visitor's chair and stare out the window. How dare he talk to her like that! Of all the rude, obnoxious, unprofessional . . . uurgh!

She thought a minute about how many times he had done this very same thing. I sit in this chair and stew at that man almost every week! Why do I put up with this? she asked herself. She heard a beep at her phone, and rose to answer it.

"Lisa Bennet," she said flatly.

"Lis, it's Jane," greeted the ever-cheerful voice at the other end. Jane Bennet was Lisa's older sister and the office manager at United Plastics. Her office wasn't far from Lisa's. "Are you going to be ready to go at four thirty?"

"Am I ever ready to go at four thirty?" she asked in the same flat voice. "What are you so excited about?"

"Charles Bingley."

"What?"

"Charles Bingley. After the meeting, he caught up with me in my office, and asked me to lunch with him and . . . what's that guy's name? Darcy?"

"Right now I think Dorky is a better name." Stupid jerk. Stupid, good-looking jerk. Why didn't he run after her? Apologize for Keller's behavior, and say that English gentlemen didn't treat ladies like that, swoop her into his arms, and kiss her passionately? Stupid, gorgeous jerk.

"Well, whatever," continued Jane, "anyway, I had lunch with them, and he asked me to show them around town a little. I asked if you would be welcome to come along, and they both agreed. So what do you think, Lis?"

"So this perfect stranger just walked up to you and asked you out to lunch, and you said yes? What's wrong with you, Jane?"

"What's wrong with me? Lisa, did you see the man? Are you blind? He's beautiful! Now are you coming or not? It's not a date or anything." Actually, most of the conversation on Darcy's part during their lunch had been questions about Lisa as soon as he found out they were sisters.

Lisa thought about her answer. There was no doubt about it, she wanted to go if Fitz-whatever was going. But after she had just been embarrassed . . . and she didn't want to intrude on Jane's date. "Jane . . . I just can't. I can't go. I've got so much work to do."

"Elizabeth Ann Bennet, you have four people working under you. What is it they do all day? You must put in a seventy-hour week. Give them something to do! It's their job to do what you tell them to."

"Apparently, it's their job to do whatever Brian tells them to, if you know what I mean," she said, referring to the human resources manager. "My God, he's a pig."

"Lisa, you don't know that," she chided her younger sister. "Now stop it. Come out with me. I'll be a nervous wreck if you don't."

She smiled. "You'll be a nervous wreck if I do," she countered. "Okay. I'll go. But no funny business, all right? No trying to set me up with this guy." Please set me up with this guy. Please.

"I promise. I couldn't if I wanted to; I just met the man." This guy is ready to marry you. Of course I'm setting him up with you. Just try and stop me.

Chapter 3

Jane Bennet walked into the living room, adjusting the cuffs of her sleeves. "Ready, Lis?"

Lisa rose from the chair, throwing the remote on the table. They shared this spacious apartment, though each could afford her own, so neither would have to be alone. Of the five Bennet sisters, Jane and Lisa were the closest, and best of friends. It's times like these I regret having moved in with you, she thought. "Yeah, I guess."

"Lisa! Aren't you going to change?" asked Jane incredulously.

"Why?" she asked, her hands on her hips. "You're wearing jeans."

"Yeah, but I wasn't wearing jeans at work. Look, just humor me and change your clothes. I don't know why Keller lets you get away with wearing jeans while everyone else suffers in pantyhose," she added. "It's a little unfair, if you ask me."

"You know as well as I do that the reason he lets me wear jeans is because they make my butt look good. Stupid pig. He's just like Brian. Two peas in a pod. You know, I should-"

"Lisa, stop your ranting. We're supposed to meet them in the lobby of their hotel at seven o'clock. Go change your clothes, and hurry, or we'll be late!"

"Yes, sir," she said, giving an exaggerated salute. She walked into her bedroom, changed, and presented herself to Jane for approval.

"Hmm, let's see," said Jane, walking around her. "You were wearing light blue jeans, a white tee-shirt, and your blue boots. Now, you're wearing black jeans, a white button-down shirt, and blue boots. I thought I asked you to change."

"I did change," she protested. "It's a different white shirt." She walked over to the coat rack and removed her Stetson.

"Oh, Lisa, you're not going to wear that, are you?"

"You're the one that begged me to go out with you. I'm doing you a favor. Now watch what you say or I'll go to the closet and get my leather fringed jacket." She removed the scrunchie she wore in her hair, fluffed her curls, and slipped the hat on. "Hmm . . . you know, come to think of it, it is a little nippy out tonight . . ."

"Oh, for pity's sake, it's June." Jane put her hands on her hips.

"Okay, okay," said Lisa, laughing. "Let's just get this over with."

Bingley and Darcy sat in the lobby, waiting for Lisa and Jane, Darcy pondering the evening ahead of him. "Bingley, you don't have . . . interests in Jane Bennet, do you?"

Bingley threw his friend a knowing look. "Do you have interests in Lisa Bennet?" he asked.

"Charles, you know how I hate your indirectness. Answer my question."

"Is this a business outing, or a casual outing?" asked Bingley with a grin.

"I suppose it is a casual outing," he answered, looking down at his jeans. "That is no reason to be so insolent."

"I hardly think I'm being insolent, Fitz," replied the younger man. "You've taken a nap and had a proper cup of tea this afternoon. What is it that's bothering you?"

Darcy sighed. "I'm sorry, Charles, but I do not wish to talk about it. Perhaps later, when I am drunk, I shall tell you."

Bingley smiled at his friend, knowing very well that he wouldn't get drunk. "My proud, refined friend, please relax and enjoy yourself this evening."

Darcy stared. "You never answered my question. Do you have romantic interests in Jane Bennet?"

Unbeknownst to the two Englishmen, Jane and Lisa Bennet walked up behind them.

He answered without hesitation. "Of course I do." Darcy inquired as to why. A confused Bingley paused before he answered. "Fitz, are you blind? The woman is breathtaking!"

"I can't say I noticed her. I was very tired, and I don't think I noticed much of anyone. With the exception of Jesse Keller and his obnoxious twang." And Lisa Bennet.

The sisters exchanged amused glances.

"Fitz," admonished Bingley, "I know you too well to believe that. There are very many beautiful women working there."

"Yes, yes, Charles, all of them stuffed into suits with their hair scraped back from their faces. I daresay, most women are either too conservative or too shameless to tempt me." Lisa Bennet, on the other hand . . . .

Lisa raised her eyebrow at Jane, whose face was flushed a bright red. "And most men are either too egotistical or too dependent to tempt me," she piped. Bingley and Darcy stood. She grinned and removed her hat. "Good evening, gentlemen."

To her surprise, Darcy bowed. "Good evening, Miss Bennet." Remembering Jane, he inclined his head in her direction. "Miss Bennet."

Lisa looked at him, a little confused. You do know this is 1997, not 1797, right? she thought.

Bingley walked around to their side of the couch. "Fitz," he said, almost breathless with the sight of Jane, "I don't believe you've ever been formally introduced."

Jane stepped forward. "I don't believe Lisa has been formally introduced to you, either," she said. "Lisa Bennet, this is Charles Bingley. Charles, this is my sister Lisa." She smiled proudly, her face still flushed.

Bingley shook her outstretched hand. "I'm pleased to meet you, Lisa. I may call you Lisa, mayn't I?"

Mayn't I? she thought, I didn't know that was a word. "Sure," she said with a chuckle.

"Lisa, this is my most revered friend, Fitzwilliam Darcy. Fitz, may I introduce Miss Lisa Bennet."

Darcy took her hand, noting that while her grip was solid, her hands were dainty and soft. What wonderful contrast, he thought. She smiled at him, and he thought he would melt as his heart began beating wildly in his chest.

"It's nice to see you on less hostile terms, Mr. Darcy," she said, referring to her earlier confrontation with Keller. She smiled at his handsome face, knowing she was blushing furiously, and hoped he would never let go of her hand.

"Please," he stammered, "please call me Fitz." He himself didn't think he would let go of her hand. He certainly didn't want to. "I'm pleased to meet you, Miss Bennet."

Her smile deepened. "Please call me Lisa," she replied.

A smile danced across his lips as he gazed into her eyes.

"Well, let's get going. We should be at the comedy club at least ten minutes before the show starts, and the show starts at seven-thirty," said Jane.

"Comedy club?" asked Lisa. You know I hate comedy clubs, Jane, she fumed inwardly.

"Yeah," she smiled. "I know it's a little early, but it was the only show they had tickets to."

Bingley seemed pleased. "Very well," he said, "how shall we get there?"

"Well, we could either all try to pile in Lisa's truck, or take a cab," she answered.

"Charles, haven't we got a car?" inquired Darcy.

"We can certainly get a car," he replied. "We four may be more comfortable in a car."

"Very well. If you will excuse me for a moment, Lisa," he said, nodding. He walked over to the front desk, and spoke briefly with the woman there. She picked up the phone, nodded, and he was back at her side. "A car shall be waiting for us in just a few minutes."

"Could we wait outside? It's a little stuffy in here," asked Lisa, though the hotel's lobby was temperature-controlled. She was still irritated with her sister for planning something she knew she would hate.

Darcy smiled at her. "It is very pleasant out this evening," he agreed.

Bingley nodded, opening the door for the ladies.

The comedy show was tolerable, Lisa supposed, but the comedian wasn't very funny and her juice was sour. She had ventured to look at Darcy only once, and he had just sat there in the chair next to hers, his legs crossed, his elbow on the table and his chin in his hand. Apparently, he was just as dismayed at the program as she.

As they left the club, Lisa asked, "So, what other stroke of genius have you got planned, Janie?"

Jane ignored her glowering, having been quite pleased with Bingley's reaction to the show. They both smiled and laughed through it, and she now talked quite animatedly with him. They took a car tour of area and decided to finish the evening at a bar with a local band. Bingley and Jane were thoroughly enjoying themselves, and seemed not to notice that Darcy and Lisa were not only bored, but irritated with them.

Finally, when they had left their table to dance, Lisa turned to Darcy. "Do you wanna get out of here?"

He raised his eyebrow at her. "I thought you'd never ask."

Chapter 4

They walked along the downtown street silently for a while, Lisa enjoying the quiet sound of the light wind blowing. "Mr. Bingley seems to really like Jane."

"If I may say so, Miss Bennet, I believe Mr. Bingley has good judgment in that particular area. You needn't worry for her safety; she is in good hands. Charles is a most trusted friend. He would never take advantage of her."

"Thank you for your reassurance," she said, not knowing what more she could say. They walked a little further down the street until she stopped.

Darcy turned and looked back at her, then stepped closer to her. "Is something the matter?" he asked.

"I just realized that you might not enjoy a walk outside. I love nature, especially spring and summer. I prefer being outside during the day, though. I really don't go out at night. But I wouldn't want you to be bored. What would you like to do?" she asked, stuffing her hands in the pockets of her jeans. "I'm afraid there isn't much we could do at this late hour, but I'm sure there's something more than bars or comedy clubs." She chuckled. "What can I say? This is Wisconsin. Small town America. If you don't drink, hunt, or fish, there's really not much to do."

"I appreciate your attentiveness, Miss Bennet, but I have no wish to put you out." He looked her over, the teeniest of smiles gracing his lips as the light breeze played with her hat. "Where did you get such a thing?" he asked, not realizing he was speaking.

"What?" she said, confused. "You mean my hat?"

His eyes returned to her face. "I meant no insult," he said, terrified that he'd upset her.

To his relief, she smiled, and continued walking. They turned down a wilderness trail, which she found inadequate to quench her thirst for nature most of the time, but in this instance, it would have to do. "I know," she said after a while. "I know. It's my whole style, isn't it? But I'm no hick," she said with certitude. "My hats get a lot of funny looks, especially from Jane. But I wear them because of the wide brim. They keep the sun out of my face when I'm outside, which I am a lot. And the boots are just more comfortable than shoes. Other than a little Garth Brooks, I don't listen to country music." She paused a minute, flushing to the roots of her chestnut hair. "I'm sorry, Mr. Darcy," she said, "I didn't mean to go on about myself."

He smiled inwardly. "I rather enjoy the sound of your voice," he said solemnly.

Her cheeks colored further, and she stopped once again. "Would you like to go for a more extended walk?"

He considered her question a moment. "I would, but on a condition."

She raised her eyebrow at him again, in that manner he found so daringly beautiful. "What?"

He almost didn't ask, wanting this comfortable, casual "non-date," as Bingley had called it, to continue as it was, but he was sure she would answer his questions, and he knew her input would be pricelessly reliable. "May I take advantage of what you know of Mr. Keller?"

"I don't think that's a good idea."

"May I ask why?" he asked, surprised.

"I really have nothing good to say about Jess."

"So you think I would find a more reliable person to answer my questions regarding him? Your sister Jane, perhaps? She is a manager, is she not?" He looked into her eyes for a minute, and regardless of his powerful attraction to her, his cold professionalism threatened to take over again. He needed this information. "You must understand that I wish to know the bad things as well as the good."

"That may be so, but my dislike of him is personal as well as professional."

"And I wish to know those things as well."

She pondered his proposal for a moment, tilting her head, and looking into his eyes. Gorgeous, mesmerizing, dark eyes . . . she could stare into them forever. What would it hurt? If he didn't like what she had to say, he didn't have to heed her advice. Keller was his problem now, anyway. "Okay," she said. "Anything you want to know, I'll tell you."

He gestured with his hand in front of him. "Lead the way," he said with a satisfied smile.

She led him a little further down the trail, and turned onto a less beaten path.

"For one thing," she began, "his accent is irritating, plus I think it's fake. Did you know he was born in Canada?" Darcy shook his head, admiring her soft curls as they caressed her cheeks in the soft wind. "For another, he's a pig. He only lets me wear jeans because of the way I look in them. He and the human resources manager. Now there's a real piece of work."

"And that would be . . . Mr. Burner, am I right?" he asked, turning toward her. "Brian Burner?"

"Right," she said with a smirk, "except his name is Brunner." She stopped at the bottom of a hill, looking down at his feet. "I don't suppose those loafers are appropriate hiking shoes."

"It is of no consequence," he said. "Please continue."

She did. "I'm tired of being referred to as his 'little lady,' or 'sweetheart,' or anything else he might like to call me." She paused a minute, maneuvering around a rock. "This morning, at the meeting, did you notice that there are no short girls working there? No heavyset ones, no older women." She crawled up the sloping landscape easily, surprised that he followed with so little difficulty. "It's because Jess and Brian do all of the hiring. Sometimes we wind up with good workers, but for the most part, we wind up with little twits that can't type. Ask Jane, she's got a receptionist who cuts off at least thirty calls a day."

"You mentioned two such girls this afternoon in the hall with Mr. Keller when you . . . discussed the meeting. Why do you suppose it was so important to him that you were on time?"

"It's not important to him that I'm on time. It's important to him that I do as he says. It's a power thing. When he cheats on his wife, that's a power thing, too. I put up with him because I love my job. I love the connection I have with the guys in the factory. And I'm my own manager. I set my own hours, and it's up to me to see that things get done. I like that independence, that responsibility. I don't really report to anybody unless Jess gets pressure from the board. I like it that way, and I doubt I could find a job anywhere else that would allow me so much freedom. But just like anything else, freedom has its negative side, I suppose."

"So what you are telling me," said Darcy, a little shocked at what she had said, "is that Mr. Keller pays no mind to his managers except when it suits him to do so, that he is unfaithful to his wife, and that he is sexually discriminating and blatantly harassing." He looked up at her for an answer.

"Pretty much, basically . . . yeah, I am." She stopped at the top of the hill, stuffing her hands in her pockets again. "Yep, he's a pig, and Brian is a perfect picture of him."

"Miss Bennet," he said, pleasantly surprised at where she'd taken him, "this is a beautiful view of the river valley."

She stared out at the view. "Earlier this evening, I thought we agreed to address each other as 'Lisa' and 'Fitz.' What happened to that casualness?"

Darcy looked over at her, pausing just to look at her before he answered, moaning to himself as she swept her tongue across her beautiful, full lips. "I believe we should keep things a little more . . . formal right now," he replied. She agreed and was willing to accept that, and was about to tell him as much, when he turned to her abruptly, grabbing her arms, searing his eyes into hers. "Lisa, I am having a most emotionally stressing day. I can not honestly know how I shall feel in the morning, after a decent rest and proper cup of tea, and a telephone call to my sister. But right now I sincerely believe I will explode if I am not allowed to kiss you."

She melted at his touch, at the chivalrous nature of his request. A kiss? she thought, you're asking my permission for a kiss? She found she was unable to speak aloud. Can I really say no to that?

She took in a breath. "No." Do it anyway.

He almost looked insulted. His hands dropped from her arms, and he folded them behind his back. He stared at her for a good long while, his eyes again burning into hers. "I am sorry." I should do it anyway.

"For what?" she asked. Come on! Kiss me!

"For asking." He was obviously upset. Kiss her!

"Don't be," she said, wanting to smile at his vulnerability. "Never in my life have I been asked so gentlemanly for a kiss." I'm waiting . . .

"I have to ask your reasons," he replied. What I wouldn't give . . .

"You know very well, Mr. Darcy," she said. "Your whole reason for coming here was to oversee the transfer of United Plastics to G & A Industries. If we were to become romantically involved, especially so soon after meeting . . . I don't want to compromise our professional relationship. I don't want any rumors to start flying . . ." Dammit, you stupid Brit, kiss me anyway!

His eyes continued to gaze into hers with the same fervent desire. "I understand," he said. "I have to say that I agree."

She sighed inwardly. Well, there goes any chance of-

Her thoughts were cut short as she realized there was a pair of lips on hers, a pair of warm, soft . . . big lips, that had brushed her own just barely, leaving them tingling and in want of more.

Fitzwilliam Darcy pulled back from her face. "Forgive me for taking such liberties," he said, his eyes still staring into hers, "but as I said before, I truly believe I would have exploded. I still believe I may."

You're teasing me, she thought, and you know it's going to work. You must have practiced this . . . She took in a breath. "Mr. Darcy, I thought I said you couldn't kiss me," she said, trying to keep the smile off her lips.

"Indeed you did. And I do believe I apologized." He paused, his hands still behind his back. "I am sincere in my apology. I shall not kiss you again unless you give an affirmative answer."

"That sounds fair," she said.

He took a short step toward her, closing the gap between them. Holding her eyes with his, she seemed not to notice as his face inched closer and closer . . . until their noses almost touched. With one hand, he reached out to pull the Stetson off her head. "You have the most beautiful eyes I have ever seen," he told her, taking her chin in his hand. "I have never met a woman who was so forthright. You are so different from any other woman I know . . . absolutely unafraid of anyone or anything. I am powerfully attracted to you, Miss Bennet." His hand involuntarily went up to caress her cheek. He moved it to her ear, her chin, her lips, and down her jawbone to her neck. "Your skin is so soft," he said with admiration. Soft, supple, velvety, silky, satiny--he could think of a million words for it. "Your lips . . ." He couldn't hold back anymore. Again, ever so softly, he brushed her lips with his own, almost afraid to touch them.

One of her hands went up to his chest, the other to his face. She stroked his soft, clean-shaven face, seeing the meaning behind his eyes, wanting to bring it out.

He dropped the hat and wrapped her face in his hands, diving into her lips with a burning kiss, rough at first, then, hearing her gasp, softening and slowing down. He pulled his face back but did not let go of her, wanting to see her expression. Her eyes were closed and her face was a mixture of awe, contentment, and yearning. She closed her softly parted lips and opened her eyes.

"Mr. Darcy," she said, "I didn't say you could kiss me."

"I did not ask," he replied, most seriously. "I believe we should remove ourselves from such romantic sights. I, too, enjoy the outdoors . . . I have had a most wonderful evening."

She smiled at him. "Even at the comedy club?"

"What comedy club?"

Chapter 5

"Jess, would you sign this for me?" asked Lisa early the following morning. She had risen happily, despite the lack of sleep, and for the moment, was willing to forget his rudeness. As long as he wasn't stupid enough to repeat it, she'd be cheery and cordial to him, she decided.

"Sure," he said, signing the report. He handed it back to her, capping his pen. "You got a sec I can talk to y'?"

"Okay," she said. "Go ahead."

"I ain't sure just quite how to put this," he said, leaning back in his chair, "but I gotta ask y' ta dress a little more . . . stuffy, if'n y' know wot ah mean."

She raised an eyebrow at him, having expected this. "A request of the gentlemen from G & A Industries?" she surmised with a slight grin.

"Yeah; cain't say I'm too happy 'bout it," he said. "Comin' in here like they own the place, tellin' ev'rone how to do their job." He looked up at her. "An' I gotta ask sum'n else."

She would have smiled at his comment about the gentlemen owning the place, but he obviously did not see the humor, or the fact that they did indeed own the place. "You want me to stop working such long hours."

"Well, yeah. Th' boys was lookin' over the time reports, an' picked out yer name right straight, swearin' up 'n down at me, tellin' me I should keep a better hold a that kinda thang. Like ah said, ah ain't too very much happy 'bout any ah this."

"I'll make you a deal," she said, placing her hands on her hips. He sat back up in his chair, more of a recliner, actually, and nodded his head. "I'll cut my hours from seventy to forty-five hours a week. That's a big cut, Jess, a big one, considering I'm compensated for my overtime. On one condition."

"What's 'at?"

"I want a new staff, and I want to hire them. I want control over my department. I'm tired of having to work seventy-hour weeks just to see to it that the guys are paid right, and half the time, they aren't anyway. I'll be happy to cut my hours just as long as my department still runs efficiently."

"You wont me ta fire four people, just cause you don' like 'em?"

"It's not because I don't like them, Jess, and you know it. They're mindless ninnies, and I want some people who know how to add and type. I don't care what they look like, I just care that they get here on time, know how to do their jobs, and follow through."

"Well, ah don' rightly like the idea, but I s'pose y' got a point. We'll talk 'er over with the big boys, an' I'll get back to y' after dinner."

"Try, that's all I ask. Give a genuine effort to stick up for me." She nodded at him and left his office. As she headed back to her own office, rounding a corner, she literally bumped into Charles Bingley.

"Oh - good morning, Mr. Bingley," she said with a smile. "Did you have a good night?" she asked.

Bingley looked around to be sure no one was listening. "Most certainly, I did," he replied with a grin. "I trust you and Jane arrived home safely?"

"Yes, we did," she replied with a smile. "Thank you for asking."

For a moment, Bingley looked like he wanted to ask something of her, but he didn't. He merely sighed, smiled at her, and nodded. "Well, perhaps I shall see you later."

"Mr. Bingley," she called as he walked off.

He turned. "Yes?" he asked hopefully, his eyebrows raised, walking back to her.

"Jane had a wonderful time last night," she said with a smile. "I just thought you should know that."

Charles Bingley looked as though he might just jump in the air and kick his heels together. "Thank you, Miss Bennet," he said, his eyes sparkling. "Thank you very much."

"How do you rate?" asked Jane, sitting in a visitor's chair in Lisa's office. "Why did you get the best office?" She had actually sat in that same chair on many a beautiful day, complaining of the same thing. Her office was on the first floor, and had but one window.

"It's because I'm so good at sucking up to Jess," replied Lisa with a wink, stuffing a fry into her mouth.

It was commonly said that Lisa Bennet had the best office in the building, and Lisa was aware of it. It was on the second of three floors, and very spacious. The entire outside wall was nothing but windows, and she had a wonderful view. The innermost wall was also glass, but if she needed, there were blinds for privacy. She had never needed those blinds, but had spent her entire morning in daydreams of how she and Mr. Darcy might find a use for them . . .

"Elizabeth!"

"What?" she said, startled.

Jane sighed, sipping her soda. "You haven't heard a word I've said."

"Yes, I have," she countered. "You were just saying . . . that I have the best office in the plant," she finished with a smile, really having no idea what her sister had been talking about.

"This is the last time I have lunch with you," said Jane, staring out the window.

"You said that a month ago, and we have lunch every day," smirked Lisa. "I'm sorry, Janie, what were you saying?"

"I was talking about last night. He's so sweet, Lis. Such a gentleman." She sighed dreamily. "Where did you guys go, anyway?"

"For a walk," she answered shortly. "Just for a walk."

"That's why you've been sitting there dreaming about him all day," she said dubiously, taking a bite of her hamburger. She sighed, chewing. "Yeah, walks do that to me, too."

Lisa smiled shyly at her sister, her face flushing. "So what are you and Chuckie doing after work?"

"Well, remember that benefit dinner I was going to go to with Jack?" she asked, referring to a now-forgotten flame of hers.

Lisa nodded. "That's tonight?" she asked. "I thought that was formal. You never did get a dress for it."

"Yeah, I know," said Jane, taking the final bite of her lunch and a sip of her soda, "That's why I need you to be ready at four thirty tonight."

With a grin, Lisa rolled her eyes at her sister. "You dip," she said. "Okay, I'll be ready. I'm supposed to cut my hours anyway."

"Jess brought that up, huh?" asked Jane.

"Yep. I'll be arriving to work in 'professional' attire on Monday. What a pain. I hate pantyhose." She shook her head. "You gotta come shopping with me tomorrow. I really don't have anything that would be considered professional."

"Okay," said Jane. "I'll see you at four thirty." She rose and left her sister's office, leaving her to her daydreams, which she was content with for a while, until her phone beeped at her.

"Lisa Bennet. Oh, hi, Jess. Sure, I'll be there in a minute." Confused, Lisa rumpled her forehead and threw her McDonald's bag in the trash. She marched down the hall to Jess's office, opened the door, and found Darcy, Bingley, Wickham, and the entire G & A entourage standing there. Darcy was turned away from the door, staring out the window.

"You . . . wanted to see me, Jess?"

"Yep-er," he replied. "C'mon an' sit down." She did. "It's about yer askin' ta have a new staff. We been a-talkin' 'bout it, but Mr. Darcy 'n th' boys here don' rightly like the id'er. It's a image thang, I guess."

Lisa stared back at Keller for a minute, almost not believing what she heard. "Excuse me?" she managed to mutter.

Darcy turned and faced her. "I am sorry, Miss Bennet, but you must understand our point of view. Firing four people, whether their jobs be clerical or managerial, directly when G & A takes over would be harmful of our corporate image. Perhaps in a few months, it will be feasible to replace them, one by one, with more skillful hands, but for now, I'm afraid you will have to live with things as they are."

Lisa's face turned red, and her heart began beating wildly in her chest. She looked into his eyes for the man she had been with last night, trying to find that deeply hidden emotion. All she saw was cold professionalism. That jerk, she thought, he was just toying with me last night!

"I truly am sorry, Miss Bennet. I understand that it is difficult to work with uncooperative people."

"You do, huh?" she asked, rising and walking to him, her voice getting almost deafening. "You really do? You understand what it's like to put in a seventy hour week, plus try to relax and take care of your family? You understand what it's like doing the work of five people? You understand, Mr. Darcy, the feeling of having to apologize to a man whose six-month-old daughter is in and out of hospitals, for shorting him money that he earned, that he is owed, that he needs?" She put her hands on her hips. "You understand, huh? Somehow, I've got my doubts." If her father hadn't taught her better sense, she'd have quit on the spot. "And you know, it isn't really the fact that I have to work ten times harder than anyone in this office that bothers me. It's the reason why."

"Please, Miss Bennet, try to see our point of view-"

"Listen, Chuckie," she snapped, turning her furious eyes toward Bingley, "I don't want to hear about your point of view." She put her attention back on Darcy. "I only know my point of view, which may sound very selfish on the surface, but I have three hundred and twenty-three people depending on me to pay their bills, and dammit, I need some support."

Jess stood, walking around the desk. "Now listen, Lisa, sweetheart-"

His attempt at calming her only made her more infuriated. "How many times do I have to tell you I am not your sweetheart?!"

Her outright yelling made him stop in his tracks. Even Jesse Keller had never seen her more enraged.

"And that's exactly the reason!" she cried, thrusting her hand at Jess as if he were on display. "You and your little buddy Brian, controlling all the hiring and firing. Have you noticed, Mr. Darcy, that there are no short women working here? No heavy set ones, no older women?" She knew she was repeating herself, but thought, Well, Billy boy, if you didn't listen to me last night, you're damn well going to listen to me now. "Your receptionist types two words a minute. She cuts off every other call she answers. You can't get a message from her, because it is perfectly acceptable for her to forget to write it down. Even if she misses the most important phone message, we are supposed to forgive her when she titters and giggles and shows us pictures of her puppies. Don't you people understand," she said, looking around her, "that the dignity and hard work of the talented women in this office is betrayed every time a woman like her walks in the door, twenty minutes late, I might add?"

Darcy merely looked back at her, his cold eyes giving no indication that he cared whether she was upset. "Are you finished with your tirade, Miss Bennet?"

Breathless with rage, Lisa returned his cold stare.

"It is a business decision, Miss Bennet."

She lowered her head, rubbing her temples with her fingertips for a moment. "I don't suppose it would do me any good to point out that there are no women in this room except myself," she queried, almost amused.

"The decision stands, Miss Bennet."

She sighed, placing her hands on her slim waist, and glared up at Darcy with more hate than she thought she could ever have for anyone. "Very well." She turned to Keller. "May Jane and I have your permission to take a half day's vacation?"

Keller nodded, and Lisa almost thought she saw sympathy in his eyes, as if he finally understood. "Thank you for trying, Jess." She turned and stormed out of the office.

Chapter 6

"Come on, Lisa, cheer up," chided Jane, driving downtown. "If he said it was a business decision, I'm sure it was. I don't think last night had anything to do with it."

"Jane, I refuse to cheer up," she replied. "And even if it was a business decision, it was a bad business decision. And why did he have to be such a jerk?" She paused, staring out the window. "I should apologize to Chuck," she said after a moment of thought.

"Chuck?" Jane queried.

"Your little pal," she replied. "I sort of snapped at him when he tried to say something to me about the company's point of view."

"You mean Charles."

"I guess. What's the difference?"

"He just doesn't look like a Chuck." She paused to park the car in a ramp. "Look, Lis, I know the feeling of working with twits. I know how frustrating it is. I know. You just have to look at it from his point of view. He takes over a company, and all of a sudden four people lose their jobs. I'm sure he didn't think it would be as big a deal as you think it is. I agree with you, but I also agree with him."

She patted her sister's knee, and Lisa smiled back at her. "Jane, I don't think you've ever disagreed with anyone in your life. Let's go," she said, opening her door. "I just don't want to think about this right now. I just want to forget about it, eat some chocolate, and buy something expensive I don't need."

"Sounds like a plan," replied Jane, and the two headed for the mall.

Hours later, when they had finished, Jane was a picture of beauty in a plum-colored slim-line gown, her hair elaborately curled and piled upon her head with a few strands of gold tickling her bare neck and shoulders.

She smiled as she looked herself over in the mirror. "I wish Mom were here," she said.

"Why?" asked Lisa, rumpling her brow. "So she can gush over you, tell you how beautiful you are, and in the same breath tell me I should've been born a boy? Maybe she'd tell me that I should have married Bill Curtis right out of high school when he proposed, so she could be rid of me. That would bring up some good nightmares."

"Why else would I want her here?" replied Jane, smiling at her younger sister.

"Okay, Jane, off your high horse," said Lisa, rolling her eyes. "If she only knew that Bill Curtis is now a drunken slob on welfare with five kids."

"I think she does know that." Jane applied another coat of lipstick nervously as the doorbell rang.

"She probably blames me," replied Lisa, rising and walking to the door. She opened it, and Charles Bingley stood before her, looking just as nervous as Jane. "Hi, Chuck," she said with a grin. "You look great. Come in."

She stepped back, and Bingley entered the room, looking dapper in his tuxedo. He raised his eyebrow at her. "Chuck?"

"You don't like Chuck?"

"Well . . . I guess I just never thought I looked like a Chuck."

"Okay," she said with a grin. "Then, Charles, you look great."

"Thank you, Lisa," he said with a sheepish smile, not knowing what to say to her after the meeting with Darcy.

"Look, before you see Jane, I just want to say that I'm sorry for snapping at you this afternoon. I understand it was uncalled for." She took a breath and smiled at him. "My staff, or rather the lack of it, is just something of a sensitive issue with me."

He let out a breath, relieved. "Thank you," he said. "It is quite all right. I understand you were very upset."

"I'll go get Jane; have a seat," she said, smiling at him again. She stepped into Jane's bedroom. "Come on, you chicken," she whispered, pulling on her arm.

Jane stepped out into the living room shyly. "Hello, Charles."

"Good evening, Jane," he replied, mystified. "You, um . . . you look quite beautiful."

Jane blushed, biting her lower lip. "It was Lisa," she said, gesturing behind her. "She helped me . . . she, uh . . . she helped." She swallowed.

Bingley stared at her for a moment, a boyish grin on his face, until Lisa coughed discreetly. He glanced at her, then smiled back at Jane. "I suppose we should be on our way."

"Yes," agreed Jane quietly. "My purse, Lisa?"

Lisa's eyebrow went up. "What do I look like, your footman?"

"Maid," corrected Bingley.

"What?" asked the sisters, each giving him a confused look.

Bingley was obviously embarrassed. "Your maid," he said. "Women are served by maids, men by footmen." He coughed nervously.

Lisa wanted to smile at this show of vulnerability. "Okay, then. Jane, what do I look like, your maid?"

Jane looked back at her. "Yes," she replied, trying to look serious.

Lisa sighed, walking into the bedroom and retrieving her sister's purse. "You two kids have a good time tonight," she said, trying her best to imitate the whiney voice of her mother. This received a curious glance from Bingley, but Jane laughed.

"See you later," said Jane, smiling at her sister. "Thanks for your help."

"You just behave yourself, you wild child," replied Lisa with a grin.

"Goodnight, Lisa," said Bingley with a nod. "I promise to return your sister . . . entirely whole." He turned with Jane and left the apartment.

As Jane turned from closing the door, she found Bingley smiling at her again. "Jane, you look wonderful this evening," he said.

"I believe you've already said so," she blushed, "but thank you. Again."

Bingley took a minute to just look at her again, until she started to look a little uncomfortable. "I'm sorry," he apologized. "I did not mean to stare. Shall we?"

Jane nodded demurely, the smile still on her lips. She was surprised sometimes at her three youngest sisters when she visited home and found they were still daydreaming about princes riding up on big white horses to rescue them from the tyranny of their parents, but tonight, she felt very much like a princess.

Bingley escorted her to her car outside, and carefully helped her in. "You don't mind driving, do you?" he asked awkwardly.

"No," she replied with a smile as he handed her purse to him.

He went around to the other side and crawled in beside her. "I would prefer to drive myself," he said, "but I would be lost. I don't know the city at all. Besides, you Americans drive on the wrong side of the road."

Jane smiled at this as she started the car. The two were silent for a while, until Jane got on the highway. "I don't know what went on this afternoon with Fitz," she said uneasily, "but you can't blame Lisa for getting upset. She really is putting in seventy hour weeks, and I can't count the number of times I've seen someone come in with a problem on their payroll. Besides that, for the past three weeks, she's been trying to operate with one less staff person than she should have. She's got four, technically, but one is out on medical leave, and Brian won't approve a temporary."

"Medical leave?" questioned Bingley.

"I think it's psychological," replied Jane. "That should give you some insight as to the kind of people we have to work with."

Bingley smirked. "I should think so," he agreed.

Jane continued. "She really is good at her job. She's got a real connection with the people out in the plant. She takes care of them. She takes care of anybody who works there. If you need something, whether it's a major project or just to type a memo, she'll do it and get it done right. Even Jesse Keller will tell you that, if he needs something done well and on time, he goes to her. She comes through every time."

"You and Lisa are very close," said Bingley, looking over at her.

"Yes," she nodded, smiling shyly. "We have been all our lives. Do you have any sisters or brothers?"

Bingley grinned. "Yes. I have one sister, Caroline. She has been after Fitz for quite a while."

"How long have you known Fitz?"

"As long as Caroline has been after him," he replied, smiling. "Fitz is a very . . . eligible bachelor. He's very rich and very connected, and as much as I love her, I believe that is what Caroline and most other women see in him."

Jane thought a minute as she exited the highway. "Lisa really likes him," she said quietly. "I think whatever happened hurt her. I wasn't in the meeting, and I don't know what happened between them last night, but Lisa doesn't get mad for no reason. She's so mad she doesn't even want to talk about it."

"Fitz is a very complex person," replied Bingley. "It's hard to get to know him. The main thing about him is that his business means practically everything to him, because it is as old as it is and has been passed through the family for so long. His little sister Georgiana is probably his only other concern. He's extremely protective of her."

"And he has no other friends than you?" she asked.

"As I've said before, he is very complex, and it is very difficult to get to know him, and what that equates to is that he has very few friends. I believe I'm fortunate enough to be one of them, and I always thought George Wickham was, also."

"What do you mean by that?" she asked, parking the car in front of the hotel.

Bingley sighed. "Well . . ." He went on to describe the relationship between Wickham and Georgiana, and Darcy's sudden distance from Wickham. "I still don't know what happened; whether it was something between Georgiana and George or George and Fitz. I have to admit that I wish they would settle their differences; the air between them is very tense lately, which makes for a difficult work environment sometimes."

He escorted her inside. As they were placed at their table, he gently took her hand. "If we could," he asked hopefully, "please let us forget about anything related to our employment. I really would like to enjoy this evening, and to get to know you better." He smiled.

"It will be my pleasure," she replied, blushing. He kissed the hand he held and winked with a grin, and they settled into their evening.

Lisa Bennet stared at the door her sister had just exited. "Why does she always pick the good ones?" she said aloud with a sigh.

She headed to her bedroom, opening the closet. This is where the average woman would back down, she thought to herself. This is where the average woman cut her losses. But not me. She reached for her hiking boots. No . . . not Lisa Bennet. That big English jerk is going to be sorry he ever played around with me.

She changed into a pair of khaki shorts and a tee-shirt. Lacing up her boots, she thought back on the previous evening. I guess we found out how Mr. Darcy felt in the morning when he didn't get anything from me. Why, Lisa, why would you want a man like that? You don't want a man like that. The guy probably has a hundred women to pick from. He's rich and powerful, and now he owns the company you work for anyway. You don't want this guy, she thought, and if you think you do now, you'll change your mind as soon as he tries to hook up with some other chick.

She stood, straightening herself out, and reached for her keys. Just take a good, long ride in the truck, saddle up Pepper, and take a long walk. You'll be over him in no time.

Chapter 7

Lisa brushed the big horse's rough coat affectionately. Pepper, who was named so because of her unruly black-and-gray coloring, had been Lisa's horse since she moved out of the Bennet home four years ago. She and Jane hadn't moved very far away, only a matter of twenty miles. "I need to be out on my own, Dad," she'd explained to her sorely upset father, who she had always been very close to. "You know how Mom and I are . . . it's just something I need to do."

It was no secret that Julia Bennet favored Jane above all of her girls; in fact, she was quite proud of that fact. It was also no secret that she didn't care for anything Lisa did. She was openly disappointed with the fact that Jane was moving with her, and even tried to discourage her, to let Lisa "do her own thing. Jane, Lisa is so different from you. You can't let her talk you into this nonsense. You need to stay here, at home. You have enough sense of responsibility to take care of your family."

Joseph Bennet, on the other hand, was more concerned with his younger daughter, being only seventeen years old. He'd felt so guilty when she told him she was moving out. He tried everything he could to get her to change her mind, but she could not be swayed. She didn't blame him for anything, and would miss him terribly, she said, but the relationship between her and her mother was unhealthy, and she felt the only way to fix it was for her to remove herself from the situation. Distance would do a world of wonders, she'd told him. After the move, he was despondent for a few days, until he decided to give Lisa something she'd always wanted - a pony. "Not because I feel bad. Not because I feel guilty," he'd told her. "It's not to get you to move back home. Not because you're my favorite daughter. It's because you're my favorite Lisa." He smiled, a tear in his eye. "You're very special to me, Elizabeth Ann Bennet. I'm going to miss you so much."

"It's only a few miles, Dad," she said, tears glistening on her own cheeks. "It only takes twenty minutes to get there."

"But it's an eternity if I can't just run up the stairs and knock on your door." He smiled upon her again, and she hugged him long and tight. "Let's go meet her," he said, and they walked arm in arm up to the stable.

This, of course, had prompted a fight between Mr. and Mrs. Bennet, but as far as Mr. Bennet was concerned, the issue was closed. "I won't let you make me feel guilty about this, Julia," he'd yelled at her. "If I want to do something special for one of my daughters, especially for Lisa, I'll damn well do it. A seventeen year old girl should not have to feel like she should leave her home because of her mother."

Lisa finished brushing Pepper's thick mane, and began to saddle her. "Pepper, you and me are in for a good, hard ride tonight. I think Jane's found someone really special. He's handsome and sweet. A wonderful gentleman. I have this feeling about him . . ." She paused a minute before she flung the saddle on her back. "He's going to take her away from me . . . move her half way across the world, and I'll only see her on Christmas and her birthday."

Pepper sneezed her disapproval of this, seemingly trying to reassure Lisa. "You don't think so, huh?" she said with a chuckle. "Well, if you ever met Chuck, and he looked at you like that, you'd be on the next plane to England, too." She mounted Pepper, took up the reins, and headed out.

When she returned home, smelling of horses and sweat and dirt, she found Bingley and Jane sitting at the table, talking quite animatedly. "Hi," she said, setting down her keys. She couldn't help at smile at her sister's happy expression.

Bingley rose. "Good evening, Lisa," he said. "Were you out?"

"Yeah," she said, laughing a little. "I had a hot date with Pepper."

"Pepper . . . your horse," said Bingley, looking at Jane. "Jane told me that you have a horse. An Appaloosa, am I right?"

Lisa smiled, and nodded. "Yeah," she said, having no idea her sister would have talked about her during a date. "She's about five."

"A wonderful breed," he approved. "Strong and tall."

"Actually, I don't think my father had any idea what he was doing when he bought her. But Pepper usually gets a good workout." She smiled at Bingley.

Jane, still decked out in her gown, rose to retrieve a soda from the refrigerator. "Charles, can I get you anything?" she asked.

"I would like another soda, thank you, Jane," he said, smiling at her.

She smiled back. "Okay." She stepped a little closer to her sister, who had followed her for a bottle of water. "Lisa," she said, rumpling her nose, "you smell quite . . . earthy."

"I was out for a long time. I went to the stable, and when it got too dark for Pepper, I took her in and just went for a hike. Got a lot of thinking done."

"Do you feel better?" she asked her dearest friend.

"Yes," nodded Lisa, smiling. "Yeah, I'm okay now. I'm extremely jealous of you, but I'm okay."

Jane returned her smile, blushing. "Thank you, Lisa," she said. "I would hug you, but you stink." Lisa laughed, taking a drink of her water, and went to shower.

The next day at about noon, Lisa crawled up the wet back steps of her parent's patio, the ever-present bottle of water in one hand, keys in the other, dressed again in a pair of khaki shorts and a tee-shirt, boots on her feet. She was straight from the stable once more, and only stopped at her parent's house for a few aspirin for her back.

She slid open the patio door to an empty kitchen. "Julia?" she called, and then after a minute, "Dad?" Still nothing. She put her hand on her aching back, irritated. "BEN-NET FAM-ILYYY!!"

Her youngest sister Lydia raced up the stairs from the family room. "Lisa!" she exclaimed, taking her hand, "Jane has a new boyfriend! Isn't that exciting?"

"Calm down, Lydia. Where is everybody? I know Jane is here because I saw her car in the drive. Is Chuck with her?" Lisa couldn't fathom why her sister would want her family to meet Bingley so soon.

"Chuck?" asked the younger Bennet.

Lisa rolled her eyes. "Sorry. Charles."

"Well, he just doesn't look like a Chuck," explained Lydia.

"Okay. Is he here? Where is everybody?"

"Yeah, he's here," she said breathlessly. "And his friends, too. They're so cute, Lisa! Especially the tall one; he's got such a nice body."

"Whoa . . . wait a minute," said Lisa, her brow rumpling in irritation. "What do you mean his friends?"

"Come on, come on. I'll introduce you to him," she said proudly. Lydia was sixteen years old, but as giddy and silly as a ten year old. She grabbed her sister's arm, dragging her down the stairs of the large split-level home. "Man, you smell like horses," she said to her sister mercilessly, and then hollered down the stairs, "Mom, Lisa came over!"

"Stop it, Lydia, you're killing my back!" Lisa mumbled at her, but Lydia refused to let go. As they stepped off the bottom stair, Lisa noticed her mother sitting with Bingley and George Wickham, smiling and doting over her daughter's new love. Oh, Lord, thought Lisa, she's going to chase him away if she gets much closer.

"Lisa," began Katie, another of her sisters, "what happened to you?" Katie was second youngest of the five Bennet sisters, and usually hung around with Lydia, whose bubbly personality and fearless attitude usually got them both in trouble.

"Oh," said Lisa, trying to sit down, "I was at the stable--"

"Is that my Lisa?" came a booming voice. Joseph Bennet stepped out from the other room, where the wet bar was, a glass in his hand. "Lisa!" he smiled at his daughter, and crossed the room to hug her.

"Ooh, jeez, Dad, be careful," moaned Lisa when he wrapped his arms around her, finding that spot in her back.

Mr. Bennet pulled back. "Lisa, honey, what's wrong?" he asked, a concerned expression on his face. He helped her sit.

"Well, I was at the stable . . . and it started to rain, and I was helping get the other horses in. Let's just say one of them didn't get along with me, and I got kicked."

Mr. Bennet rumpled his brow. "In the back?" Lisa nodded, putting her hand there. "Oh, are you okay?"

"Yeah," she replied. "I just need some Motrin or something . . ." she started to get up.

"Sit down, honey," he said, pushing her shoulders. "Katie, get your sister some Motrin."

"We don't have any Motrin," whined Katie.

"Just get me a handful of whatever Mom's taking this week," she said irritably, deciding that her back hurt a lot more than she originally thought.

"Some aspirin or something," said Mr. Bennet. "And an ice pack."

Katie rolled her eyes. "Okay," she moaned. She marched up the stairs, dodging to get out of Jane's way.

"Lisa," she smiled, happy to see her sister. "I'm so glad you came. I was afraid you wouldn't."

"Jane, please don't tell me that Mr. Dorky is here," she pleaded.

Jane nodded, confused. "You didn't get my message?" Lisa shook her head. "Why did you come over?"

"I had a little accident at the stable, and I need some pain killers." She shifted in her seat, trying to get comfortable.

"An accident? What happened?" asked Jane, forgetting about Darcy. Lisa relayed the story, insisting she was fine, and didn't notice as Darcy slowly descended the stairs, staring at her.

Jane gasped as Lisa finished. "Where?" she asked. Lisa placed her hand on her back again. Jane pulled her shirt up, and gasped again as she saw the huge purple and blue bruise that was left on her lower back. "Jeez, Lisa, you should have an ice pack for this! It's swollen."

Darcy's heart jumped in his throat as he saw what the horse had left her with. He knew she was furious with him, or he would have offered some sort of comfort.

Katie ran down the steps, a bag of ice in one hand and a bottle of aspirin in the other. "Here, Lis," she said, dumping the things in her lap. She walked over to where Lydia sat flirting with Wickham, and joined her sister.

Lisa glowered after Katie. "Thanks," she said sarcastically. She opened the aspirin, letting the ice fall to the floor. As she swallowed them with a drink from her bottle, she finally noticed Darcy standing at the landing of the stairs. She glared at him briefly. She felt Jane apply the ice to her sore back.

"Are you going to be okay, Lisa?" she asked, the concern showing on her face.

"I'm fine," she insisted again. She glared again right at Darcy. "It's not the first time I've been kicked by an animal. In fact, if I recall correctly, last time it was a pig."

Chapter 8

"Lisa," snapped Jane under her breath, rumpling her brow. Darcy merely blushed with embarrassment, tightening his lips, and turned away. Jane smacked Lisa on the leg.

"Stop it," she snapped back with the same tone.

"Don't you get lippy with me," Jane countered, moving the ice on Lisa's back. "He's a guest, for crying out loud."

"Fine," she snapped again, "I'll be nice." She cringed as Jane moved the ice again. "Dammit, Jane, that huts!"

"Lisa, you need to go to the hospital," she said, forgetting about her sister's rudeness. "You need an x-ray."

"I'm fine," Lisa insisted. "I don't need an x-ray."

"Yes, you do," said Jane. "You're going to the hospital. Charles, do you have my keys?" she asked of him.

He reached in his pocket and produced the keys, the little Smurf dangling from the ring as always. He walked over to where Lisa sat with Jane. "I'm afraid you will have to drive. Oh, my," he commented, seeing Lisa's bruise. "Lisa, you do need to see a doctor."

"Are you deaf?" she asked, irritated. "I do not need a doctor. I just took some aspirin, I'll be fine if you just let me be."

She was ignored. "I'll get the car and pull it up if you grab my purse for me," said Jane to Charles. He nodded and she marched up the stairs.

"Jane," said Lisa warningly, "I do not need to--"

"Lisa, honey, do as your sister says," chided Mr. Bennet. "I agree, you need an x-ray."

"Thanks for your support, Dad," she said sarcastically. "It's not that bad."

"You're going to the hospital," said Mr. Bennet more firmly, seeing her back. "I'll follow Jane." He nodded at her, and slowly mounted the stairs.

Lisa rolled her eyes. "I should've just went home."

"Lisa, are you able to stand?" asked Charles.

Lisa sighed resignedly. "Yeah, I guess," she mumbled. She leaned forward painfully to do so, but her legs failed her and she fell forward - right into the arms of Fitzwilliam Darcy.

Startled, she grabbed at the first thing her hands landed on, which happened to be his chest. They both blushed furiously and turned their faces away as soon as she was steadied; she unable to admit that she enjoyed the feel of his soft rippling of muscles, he unable to think about anything but the feeling of her strong, soft hands on his chest. Holding her eyes with his own, he felt every emotion from Thursday night come flooding back. Her hair was windblown and damp, her clothes rumpled, and she smelled of horses and rain. He thought he had never seen a more beautiful creature.

"Fitz," said Charles, suppressing a smile, "perhaps you should . . ." he made lifting motions with his arms, "perhaps . . . carry her. She may have a broken bone; it would do no good for her to further stress herself."

Darcy nodded, and in one effortless motion, had Miss Lisa Bennet in his arms. "The ice, Charles," he said, reaching out for it. He placed it on Lisa's swollen back and tightened his grip on her as she sucked in her breath in surprise. He motioned for Charles to go upstairs to the car, and followed his friend, leaving Katie, Lydia, Wickham, and Mrs. Bennet wondering where they were going.

Darcy helped her into the back seat of Jane's car, scooting her over so he could sit next to her, and hold her still, for as Charles had said, her injury should not be irritated, and really, he reasoned, someone should help her hold the ice on her back.

Lisa sat on the examining table in the emergency room, dressed in a flimsy hospital gown, Jane at her side. "Frankly, Miss Bennet, I'm surprised your rib is just cracked, not broken," said Dr. Meyer, a short, balding man with gray eyes. "I'm surprised only one of them is injured."

"So are you going to put me in a cast or what?" asked Lisa, irritated with the man. He hadn't been very friendly to her, and his hands were cold.

"No, no," said the doctor, quite condescendingly, "but you will be restricted for a few days, and you won't be able to drive tonight with those pain killers."

"Then I'm not taking the pain killers," she said, irritated again with his tone of voice, "and what is it you mean exactly by 'restricted?'"

"You'll have to wear a brace so your muscles can heal," he replied. "You have a deep muscular bruise; they are very painful and very difficult to heal."

Lisa looked back at him, raising her eyebrow. "Have you ever had a deep muscular bruise?" she asked.

"No," replied the doctor.

"Then you would know how painful one is because . . . why?" Her eyes were narrowed into slits, and she crossed her arms, daring him to pick a fight.

"Do you doubt my medical opinion?" The doctor put his hands in his pockets, taking on a defensive look himself.

"No," she said, "I question why you state so matter-of-factly that a deep tissue bruise is painful when you have never had one."

"Doctor," interjected Jane, a smile on her face, "are we done here? I think my sister is tired."

"I'm not tired, Jane, I just don't like being patronized."

The doctor left the room, and for a minute, Jane and Lisa thought he was gone. To Lisa's chagrin, he reappeared but a minute later, a white brace in his hand. Standing, she reluctantly allowed him to fasten it under the gown around her middle. "You can take it off to shower, but that's it. And the pain won't go away any time soon, so if you're not going to take the pain killers, I suggest you get used to it." He signed and handed her a piece of paper. "Consider yourself discharged." And that was the last of Dr. Meyer.

Jane helped her sister dress again, though not without teasing her immobility. "Remind me to thank you for this," said Lisa sarcastically. "And I'm not taking one of those pills."

Jane laughed as she helped her walk out to the waiting room. She was about to stop to collect Bingley and Darcy, but as she saw Lisa continue to walk out to the car, she simply nodded with a grin, and they followed. She teased Lisa mercilessly as she tried to get in the car. Much to Darcy's subdued delight, she found the only way she was comfortable was laying down, which meant she would have to lay across his lap . . .

On the way home, Jane stopped at a pharmacy to fill the prescription Dr. Meyer had given Lisa, regardless of her insistence that she did not want the pills. She took Lisa's purse, and with a devilish grin, activated the child safety lock on the back doors. "Jane!" hollered Lisa, "I temporarily hate you!"

Lisa was delivered to the safety of their apartment, carried up the steps by Darcy, and placed on her bed. Jane made her take one of the pills as she could see the pain etched in her dear sister's face. It was, indeed, a strong prescription, and as Jane tucked her into bed and her father kissed her cheek, she fell asleep, saying, "Jane . . . I'm not taking one of those pills."

Continued in Section II