Section I, Next Section
Posted on Sunday, 21 May 2000
The sun burned down hot on the parched field, turning the grass brown and the assembled people various shades of red. The entire crowd stood; the sun had turned the shiny metal benches scalding hot.
Along the side of the field the people shouted various words of encouragement and disparagement to the women chasing each other across the dry grass. Clods of dry earth flew up from spikes and bits of torn-up grass clung to pleated skirts and to the sticks of the women who had tried to scoop the ball off the ground. Their faces were red with sunburn and flushed from the heat and sweat beaded on their foreheads.
The woman who had the ball, finding herself trapped in a corner by four members of the opposing team, flipped it desperately over their heads toward the center of the field. The four rivals jumped in the air, sticks extended, trying to at least knock the ball from its trajectory, but they failed and it flew onward. "Bets!" the trapped defender shouted. "Look up!"
A woman in the center of the playing field turned quickly at the sound of her name. Gasping for oxygen in the muggy air, she looked up through her sun-blindness and saw the white ball sailing toward her. As always when she came in for a catch, time seemed to slow. She bent her head into her shoulder to brush away strands of dark hair, springing loose because of the heat. Her blue eyes widened, then squinted as she narrowed her focus. She extended her stick; secure in the knowledge that the other team couldn't reach her before she made the catch. The crowd cheered as they saw her in position to receive her teammate's wild throw, but she didn't hear them. She heard only the ball sliding through thick air, and the thump it made when it landed in her stick.
"Run, Betsey!" the coach screamed from the sidelines, but she was beyond hearing him. Cradling the ball instinctively, she made a beeline for the other end of the field. Two defenders came up in her face, and she looked around with the practiced eye of an expert. There. "Evie!" she shouted in a voice made hoarse by heat and exercise. Her open teammate reacted immediately, catching the ball and running toward the goal - giving just enough time for the first woman to shake her pursuers and catch it as Evie flipped it to her. The goalie never had a chance. The crowd roared as the ball hit the back of the net - high, fast, and unstoppable. Time ran out. The crowd roared again at the narrow victory.
Hot, exhausted women poured off the field after shaking hands with the losing team. The coach beamed. "Hell of a shot, Betsey."
She adjusted the scarf covering her thick curls and squinted up at him. "Don't call me that. I hate that. You know I hate that."
Her coach beamed. "We're in the playoffs. I'll call you Queen Elizabeth if it makes you happy."
She didn't crack a smile, reaching for a glass of water to pour over her scorched face. "Just Elizabeth will do, thanks."
Only a few feet away, a young man was beaming proudly despite the fact that his girlfriend had not scored either of the two game goals. "See, Will?" he said to his companion. "I told you this was fun."
Hiding his face fastidiously under a baseball cap, his friend scowled. "Sweaty, dirty women cursing, running, and beating each other up. I just don't see the attraction."
"Oh, I know - you like 'em prim and ladylike, right?"
"I wouldn't say prim exactly. More like. . ."
"Prissy?"
Will raised an eyebrow, but was prevented from speaking by the approach of his friend's significant other. He quickly rearranged his expression into one of politeness and said calmly, "Hello, Eveline."
She beamed at him, wiping her brow with her forearm. "Hey, Will." That taken care of, she turned to her boyfriend. "Rob, did you see my assist?"
He held up his hand to slap her five. "It was beautiful. Well done. You saved the game."
She laughed. "I wouldn't say that - Betsey did most of it."
Will frowned. "Betsey - is she the one whose name everyone was screaming earlier?"
"That's her," Eveline replied. "She actually hates to be called that - she prefers Elizabeth."
"Then why -"
"Because our first year playing the assistant coach called her Betsey by mistake, and then he decided Betsey Bennet sounded like a character from a nursery rhyme - and it kind of stuck." Eveline accepted the bottle of water that Rob handed her and smiled at him again. 'Thanks, love."
Will shook his head. "Women's lacrosse," he muttered. "And this is the refined ladies' college I'm supposed to send my sister to?"
William Darcy stood facing the front door of the stately brick residence that would be his younger sister's home for the next year. Girls and their families flooded the stairs, carrying trunks, boxes, and the occasional small appliance. Some of the girls, he was pleased to note, were obviously the "right kind" of people. They were the ones whose belongings were packed in trunks with polished locks, who carried tennis racquets and golf clubs, whose mothers wore skirts and didn't get sweaty carrying boxes. Others of the girls were clearly not of the same class. They lugged battered cardboard boxes into the dorm, trailed by weary parents in cutoffs and t-shirts who drove minivans. Well, at least Georgie would have a choice as to the girls with whom she associated.
"Excuse me." A girl far too young to be going to college elbowed past him, dragging a worn blue duffel behind her. Her face was red with exertion and her long blonde braids had popped numerous loose strands. "Lizzy!" she shouted over her shoulder. "Hurry up, this is too heavy."
A tall girl, closer to the appropriate age, with long, curly dark hair pulled into a ponytail, came up beyond the smaller girl with a large crate in her arms. "Kate, I'm trying to carry the books. Just drag it up the stairs."
The younger girl sounded dangerously close to whining. "To the fifth floor?" she asked incredulously.
Her sister, for their relationship was obvious, beamed. "Go on."
Will was just wondering where his sister and their driver were, and wondering where he had seen the tall dark-haired girl before, when someone called, "Hey, Will!"
He turned around and saw an attractive woman who looked oddly familiar headed his way. "Remember me?" she asked. "Rick's girlfriend? Eveline? We met at my lacrosse game last semester."
"Oh, sure," he said. "How's. . . lacrosse?"
She smiled. "It's fine. Hey, I have to carry this up to my room. Nice talking to you." Before he could reply she was gone.
"Will!" Another voice, but he knew this one. He turned around, asking, "Where did you get to?"
His sister set the bag she was carrying down on the sidewalk. "We had to park all the way around the back. There were no spaces." She brushed an imaginary loose strand of blonde hair off her forehead and looked around her. "There are a lot of girls here."
"I know, I've been looking." He picked up her bag and headed for the door, making sure their driver was following him with the next trunk. "Fortunately, a number of them are your kind of people."
Georgiana didn't hear him; she was too busy looking around in awe at the inside of the dorm. "They all look so old," she murmured.
"So do you," Will lied. "You're just used to seeing the younger girls at your high school." In reality his sister was small and petite, pale, with huge dark eyes that made her face look even smaller. She looked much younger than her eighteen years, especially dressed as she was now in a knee-length skirt and buttoned cardigan.
Georgiana's room on the fourth floor stood open, someone else's things already strewn about the floor in half-opened boxes. "My roommate must be here already," she said, forcing herself to sound brave. "What was her name again? Norah?"
"Norah Grayson," Will replied. The name had reassured him. Norah Grayson sounded like she came from a good New England family. The Martha's Vineyard address on the registrar's list had also been a good sign.
"Damn," Georgiana said suddenly.
"Georgie, don't curse in public," Will reprimanded automatically. "What is it?"
"Something just occurred to me," she said. "I packed the trunk key."
He furrowed his brow in confusion. "Isn't that a good thing?"
"In the trunk."
"Oh." His expression suddenly cleared. "Then the trunk can't be locked."
She shook her head. "It locks automatically when you flip the latch."
"Something wrong?" They both turned toward the source of the voice, a smiling girl with fair skin and long red hair who stood leaning comfortably against the doorway.
"I locked my trunk key in the trunk," Georgiana explained.
"Oh." The redhead came all the way into the room, right hand extended. "I guess you must be Georgiana. I'm Norah."
Georgiana shook her hand gratefully. "This is my brother William."
Norah smiled in his general direction. "Hi. Let me go ask if anyone has a key that might be like yours. I'll be right back."
"Thanks," Georgiana called, but Norah had already vanished into the hallway.
"She seems nice," Will said. He approved of Norah's manners, her modulated voice, and her well-pressed khaki shorts and button shirt. She would be all right.
Georgiana shook her head. "She seems like she's been here for days already," she groaned. "I'm never going to get used to all these people."
"Hey." Norah had returned, with a taller girl behind her who was also red-haired and looked strikingly like Norah. "This is my sister Moira. She's a junior." Moira smiled and shook their hands, then studied Georgiana's trunk.
"Hmm," she said. "I would go up and ask Betsey."
"Who's Betsey?" Georgiana asked.
"The head of our dorm," Moira replied. "She's best equipped to handle little emergencies like this, and she's really nice. Norah's met her."
"I have," Norah confirmed. "You'll like her a lot."
"And she'd have a key that might work?"
Moira grinned. "I doubt it, but I bet she could pick the lock. Her room is up on the fifth floor."
As Will and Georgiana entered the stairwell he whispered, "Well that should make you feel better."
"What?"
"Moira. Obviously Norah knows her way around because her sister has been here for two years already. The other freshmen are probably just as confused as you are."
"First-years," his sister corrected with a wry smile.
"Right."
They wandered the fifth floor for a while before coming to the conclusion that no Betsey lived there. The names on the doors clearly read Joanna, Kathleen, Rachel, Ariella, Charlotte, Elizabeth, Grace, Diana, and Maureen.
"I think Elizabeth must be Betsey," Georgiana decided.
"Right," Will agreed, shaking off an odd feeling of deja vu. Just then the door to Elizabeth's room opened and no less than six men aged roughly twenty to twenty-five exited and headed down the stairs.
"Wow," Georgiana muttered.
The tall, dark-haired girl from downstairs poked her head out the door as if looking for someone, and stopped when she saw Will and Georgiana. "Hi," she said. "Can I help you with something?"
"Are you Betsey?" Georgiana asked. "Moira Grayson said I should come talk to you."
Elizabeth broke into a broad grin. "Elizabeth or Lizzy if you don't mind."
She kept talking, but Will wasn't listening. It had suddenly occurred to him why he recognized her. "Lacrosse," he said out loud. Of course. A tall girl with dark curly hair whose name was Elizabeth and was called Betsey but hated it.
She looked at him curiously. "Yes, I play."
"I, um, I know Eveline. She's going out with a friend of mine." Feeling improper, he extended his hand. "Will Darcy. This is my sister, Georgie. She's a - a first-year."
"Elizabeth Bennet. Those were my brothers that just went downstairs."
"All of them?" Georgiana asked before she could stop herself.
Elizabeth grinned. "Yup. Thomas, Andrew, Kevin, Michael, Brian, and Patrick." At Will and Georgiana's matching expressions of disbelief she added, "I also have five sisters. Jane, Mary, Katie, Lydia, and Angela. Jane graduated last year."
"Are your parents Catholic or something?" Georgiana asked, blushing furiously for her rudeness as soon as the words were out.
Elizabeth only smiled. "Forget the 'or something.' Was there something you needed?"
Five minutes later Georgiana's trunk stood open, having been summarily dealt with by Elizabeth and a long bobby pin. After Elizabeth had accepted their thanks and returned to her room, Georgiana turned to her brother and said, "She's really nice. I'm glad she's the head of the dorm."
Will scowled at her. "Georgie. Are you blind? She practically just walked off Walton's Mountain."
"What?"
He ignored her. "She's common. Eleven brothers and sisters, for heaven's sake! And that accent - it matched the cutoffs perfectly. She plays sports exactly like a man. And Catholic, of all things!"
"The Kennedys are Catholic."
"The Kennedys are rich. This Betsey, or whatever her name is, clearly is not."
"So what?"
"So? Georgie, you don't need to befriend a girl who lives in a trailer and shops at K-Mart. There are enough girls around who belong to the same people you do."
"I don't care," Georgiana said hotly, in a rare moment of disagreement with her older brother. "She's a nice person, and I'd rather the head of my dorm be nice and take care of people than be a big snob like -" She stopped short of actually naming her brother's girlfriend and finished "- some people."
He shook his head. "You'll change your mind after a while with these people. I'm going for the other suitcase." He opened the door and came face-to-face with Elizabeth Bennet on her way back up to her room. "Hi," he said, trying to cover his startled reaction.
"Hi," she replied. "Georgiana getting settled in?"
Thank God, she didn't hear me. "Yes, thanks."
"Good." She started to walk away, then turned back. "Oh, Will?"
"Yes?"
"I actually prefer Wal-Mart. It's cheaper." Trying unsuccessfully to hide a smile, Elizabeth turned and headed up the stairs.
Note: in Part One I referred to William's friend and Eveline's boyfriend as Rob, and in Part Two I accidentally called him Rick. His name is in fact Rob. Sorry for the confusion.
On a still-warm September evening, three weeks after her first days at college, Georgiana Darcy knocked on Grace Kearny's fifth-floor door, praying that the senior would be at home. "Damn!" she swore ferociously upon receiving no answer.
The door next to her swung open and Elizabeth Bennet poked her head into the hall. "Oh, hey Georgie," she said cheerfully. "I thought someone was knocking on my door."
Georgiana shook her head. "No, I needed Grace, but she's not here." Recollection of Elizabeth's great problem-solving skills flashed across her mind and she asked, "You don't know what to do with a frozen computer, do you? My brother always fixed it for me at home, and I don't have the slightest idea how to unfreeze it. I came looking for Grace because she fixed Norah's printer last week."
Elizabeth smiled. "No problem. Couldn't be easier. Let's go down and I'll show you how."
Five minutes later, sitting on Georgiana's bed in the corner of her room, Elizabeth asked, "So what is it with your brother?"
Georgiana, absorbed in the newly discovered wonders of Control/Alt/Delete, took a moment to process the question. "Sorry? Oh, my brother." She frowned. "What do you mean?"
"Well," Elizabeth hesitated, trying not to offend her young friend, "he seems a bit - overprotective. I mean, I have four older brothers, but none of them takes care of me quite so much."
"You think he takes care of me too much?"
"Well. . ."
Georgiana grinned. "So do I. But I'm also used to it."
"So what is it, the age difference?"
Georgiana sighed. "Partly. Although the age difference isn't as much as it looks. William's only twenty-four."
Elizabeth's eyebrow shot up. "Really? He looks about thirty." Realizing her rudeness, she flushed and added, "I mean, not in a bad way. He's not prematurely balding or anything. He just looks so - stern."
"Well, he is," Georgiana replied. "I was the baby, but William's been the head of a company technically since he was nineteen, and he's practically raised me on his own."
"How did he become the head of a company so young?" Elizabeth asked, fascinated.
"It was our father's company. He died when William was nineteen and I was thirteen."
"Oh, I'm sorry."
"It's okay." Georgiana poked at her computer keys again and continued, "And our mother died four years before that, when I was nine. Dad was always off on business trips, so William kind of took care of me. When he went away to college for the first year I stayed at home with the housekeeper, but when Dad died I went to a boarding school near home. I was there all through high school, until I came here."
That explains a lot, Elizabeth thought. Out loud she said, "Then you're lucky to have a brother who looks after you so well." Even if he is a pompous. . .
"You're lucky to have such a big family," Georgiana countered. "I always wanted a sister, but my parents were happy with one of each."
Elizabeth grinned. "You can have Katie, she comes cheap." Georgiana laughed and Elizabeth added, "But it was nice growing up with so many other kids around. I had my big brothers' friends in and out all day, teaching me to play sports, to skate, throwing me in the lake - all that good stuff. And I had my little brothers to beat up, and my little sisters to dress up, and my big sister to dress me up." She smiled, remembering. "I'll never forget my first middle school dance. None of the boys ever talked to me in school, but Janey made me wear her clothes and did my hair for me - six boys asked me to dance."
"That's what I like about being here," Georgiana replied shyly. "It's like having a whole lot of big sisters."
"Didn't you have that at your boarding school?" Elizabeth asked curiously.
"Not really. First of all it was coed."
"Ah," said Elizabeth.
"And the girls there were. . . rich."
"Not to pry," Elizabeth said, "but aren't you rather rich yourself?"
"Yes," Georgiana admitted honestly, "but so many of the girls at my school were - well, William would have called them 'the right kind of people.' Actually, that's what he did call them." She looked apologetically at Elizabeth. "My brother can be a bit elitist." She caught sight of the ironic expression on Elizabeth's face and burst out laughing. "I guess you noticed."
"You could say that," Elizabeth replied. "So, you didn't get along with the girls at your school?"
"Not as well as with the girls here," Georgiana replied. "People here are so much more natural than - well, like my brother's girlfriend. Caroline." She practically spit out the name. "She went to a different boarding school, but she was basically the same as my classmates. Everything she does is to get noticed and show off how rich she is."
"Is she new-rich?" Elizabeth asked.
Georgiana nodded, puzzled. "Her father's a doctor. How did you know?"
"Just one of my own personal sociological theories. People who have always had money don't feel the need to show it off as much as people who just got it. Take your brother. He may be elitist - okay, he definitely is - but he doesn't go round in Armani suits and diamond watches all the time."
"That's true." Georgiana pondered that for a moment. "You know, I think you're right."
"Of course I am." Elizabeth laughed. "Your brother may be elitist, but I'm an intellectual snob."
Georgiana laughed with her, but her mind was somewhere else. "You see," she said, "The last thing William needs is a girlfriend like Caroline. She just reinforces all his bad qualities - I mean, he isn't really that much of a snob honestly, but she makes him worse. He needs someone to shake him up a little."
Elizabeth beamed. "I think we all need that sometimes." A brilliant idea flashed into her mind. "Hey, Georgie?"
"What?"
Elizabeth leaned in slyly. "How would you like to meet one of my brothers?"
"What?"
"Four of them are single, and at least three of those are a great age for you."
"I don't think that's a good. . ."
"Oh, you would love my brothers. Besides, I bet you could use a change as much as William could. If there's anything the Bennet family is not, it's stuck-up. We can't afford it."
Georgiana found herself turning quite pale. "No, really. I - I mean, thanks, but - well - lively guys scare me."
"Brian would be great for you. He's fairly quiet actually - he's a year behind me and I never let him get a word in edgewise when we were little. He's really nice, and gentle, and very good-looking. You'd love him!"
"But. . ." Georgiana fumbled madly for an excuse. "Isn't he in Pennsylvania?"
"Nope." Elizabeth grinned in triumph. "He goes to college twenty minutes from here."
"Oh."
"Come on," Elizabeth prodded. "At least think about it."
"I will," Georgiana said with some relief. Thinking about Brian Bennet was fairly non-threatening.
"After all, we all know that sometimes the people who seem the most different are actually the most alike."
Elizabeth's comment received no answer - Georgiana's mind was spinning. No, she told herself firmly. Down, Georgiana. That's the most ridiculous thing you've ever come up with - and there have been a few. . . She cast her eyes at Elizabeth, unable to resist the insane idea that had seized her. She said it herself. . .
Georgiana lost no time in calling her brother that same night, and asking him to visit her for dinner on the weekend. She gave no reason or ulterior motive other than wanting to see him, and since the family home was only an hour's drive from the college William readily agreed.
That Saturday they sat facing one another across a table in one of the fanciest restaurants in town (read: one of the only two or three that didn't cater mostly to the college students). William was still slightly curious as to why Georgiana had invited him, but he put it down to homesickness and didn't think too much about it.
"So, how is everything going?" he asked over a bowl of soup.
"Fine," Georgiana answered. "I mean, things are good."
He eyed her, looking for signs that she was hiding something, but found none. "How are the other girls in your dorm? Are they nice?"
Georgiana was fairly sure that by "nice" her brother meant "refined," so she took a moment to collect her thoughts. "Well, Norah and her sister are very nice. Norah's a great roommate; we get along really well. She's invited me to visit the Vineyard with her over fall break."
"That would be fun," William said brightly. He had rather expected Georgiana to come home for her first break, but he supposed there was no time like the present for making connections - and he was glad she had a friend. Still, he worried that her characteristic reserve might keep her from meeting people other than her roommate. "What about the other girls?" he asked, trying to keep the concern out of his voice.
"Oh, they're great," Georgiana replied. "I spend a lot of time with some of the other first-years, especially Amy and Kara from down the hall. And some of the juniors and seniors have kind of adopted me and Norah - because of her sister."
"Oh," William said, pleased. "Did I meet any of them?"
"Well - Charlotte and Ariella you don't know. But Charlotte's father lives on the Vineyard near the Graysons, so she and Moira have been best friends since they were little. And then there are some of Moira's friends from the lacrosse team - Evie and Maureen and Elizabeth." She said the last name quickly, trying to blend it in with the others - but she failed miserably.
"Elizabeth?" William asked. "The Elizabeth we met when you moved in?"
Here goes, Georgiana thought. "Yes," she said, trying to strike an ordinary note. "The head of our dorm. She's great - she's been really nice to me since I got here."
"I'm sure," William said, trying not to hurt his sister. He could tell that, for whatever reason, she really liked this Elizabeth person and he didn't want to offend her - but he couldn't help thinking that she should have better taste somehow. "Um - how does Elizabeth get along with the rest of the girls?"
Georgiana smiled wryly. "If that's a polite way of asking if she has any class, then yes. Her family isn't rich, but she fits in fine with the girls who are. Mostly." The corners of her mouth twitched as she thought of William's girlfriend, and Elizabeth's analysis of her financial situation. "Actually," she continued, "she fits in much better than some of the girls who can't talk about anything but how much money Daddy has."
William sighed. "Georgie, I know where you're going with this," he said.
She flushed. "You do?"
"I do." He took a long sip from his water glass and set it back on the table. "And I have to admit, I've suspected it for a long time - I should have listened to you sooner."
"You should have?"
"Yes. Look, I know why we're talking about Elizabeth here."
"You do?"
"Of course." He put down his soup spoon and looked at his sister across the table. "I know you never liked her."
Georgiana was completely baffled. When did I lose control of this conversation? "William, who are we talking about?"
He met her gaze with one equally confused. "Caroline, of course."
"Caroline?"
"Yes." He played self-consciously with the end of his tie. "We broke up."
"You did?" Georgiana mentally smacked herself for the excitement in her voice. "I mean, I'm sorry."
"No, you're not." He smiled at her to show there were no hard feelings. "I know how you've always felt about her - and I have to say that you were right. Caroline is. . ." he paused dramatically, "a gold-digger. Pure and simple. And I'm only embarrassed that I allowed her to flatter me-"
"It wasn't your fault," Georgiana replied quickly. "You liked her."
"No, I didn't," he answered. "That makes it worse, doesn't it? I was only with her because - well, it seemed like the thing to do."
Georgiana stared at him. Maybe it wasn't such a crazy idea after all. "You know what you need?" she said aloud.
He looked at her suspiciously. "What?"
"You need to get out. Meet some new people. People whose name doesn't end with Bingley, Fitzwilliam, or De Bourgh."
"But -"
"William, look at it this way. Of course you dated Caroline - there was no one else! You're going to turn into one of those sad guys who has dated all the women in his little circle without liking any of them, and eventually winds up alone because he thinks there's no one else out there. You need to meet some women who aren't so stuffy!"
"Georgiana!"
"I mean it!" She set her glass on the table with an emphatic thud. "You're in a rut."
William stared at his sister in a mixture of wonder and horror. She had never spoken to him - or anyone else - this way in her entire life. If college life had given her more confidence and social skill, he couldn't decide whether that was a good thing or not! "And how do you suggest I unrut myself?" he asked with some trepidation.
"Well. . ." Her mind whirled - she hadn't thought this part out completely. "We're having a party next weekend."
"Georgie." He scowled. "College girls?"
"How old is Caroline?" she asked rhetorically. "Besides, it's not just college 'girls.' Other people come too - friends from off-campus, and some grad students - I promise there will be other people over twenty." She saw his stony facade begin to waver and said quickly, "Come on, it'll be fun. You need to meet some people who can make you forget about your investments for an hour. Besides," she added slyly, "you'll be able to keep an eye on me at my first ever college party." Georgiana knew full well that this party was not the sort of wild and crazy event it sounded - for her first real party she didn't think she wanted William in attendance. She also knew that to her overprotective big brother even a simple gathering in the dorm living room sounded like a pit of sin.
"All right," he said finally. "I'll come for a while."
"Good!" she exclaimed happily. "That way you can meet some of my friends, too."
"Great," he said weakly.
Georgiana returned triumphantly to her plate. Stage is set. . .
When William arrived at his sister's dorm on the night of the party, there was a line thirty people long at the front door. He was just wondering what kind of party this was when he heard his name called.
"William!" Georgiana was yelling from her upstairs window. "Come around the back and I'll let you in."
"Is this allowed?" he asked moments later as she opened the back door for him.
"Sure," she shrugged. "You're my guest. Come on in."
Some - but not nearly all - of his fears were dispelled when he saw the party itself. There was no alcohol in sight, and many of the people in attendance looked old enough to be out of college. So far, so good. Sure, the music was blaring - and rather bad - but that he could live with.
Georgiana turned to say hello to a group of girls clustered on a couch, leaving her brother to survey the room. The dorm's large living room had been transformed - mainly, he noticed, by covering the walls with something shiny and red - and one end of the room had been turned into a small DJ station with girls from the dorm taking turns playing CDs. He saw Norah Grayson chatting with a group of girls in a corner, all similarly dressed in short black skirts and tight shirts. He said a silent prayer that Georgiana had chosen a more modest ensemble. Preppy frat boys (and some guys around the age of twenty-five who clearly were once frat boys) mingled with the students of the women's college trying to collect phone numbers. The middle of the room was crowded with dancing couples, and to his surprise William spotted Rob and Eveline dancing with some of her friends.
William's surprise was of course minimal compared to Rob's on seeing him. His friend's jaw dropped nearly to the floor as he shouted, "Will! What are you doing here?"
"Partying," William said dryly, making his way through the crowd. "Don't ask. Georgie brought me. Hi, Eveline."
"Hi."
"So," Rob said with a knowing smile, "you're here to check up on her."
"I am not. I'm here to - oh, God."
"What?" Rob looked around in alarm. "What's the matter?"
"Your friend," William said to Eveline. "Elizabeth? Betsey? Whatever?"
"What about her?" Eveline asked, confused.
"She's right over there."
"Of course she is. She's the head of the dorm; she has to be here. And right now," Eveline peered over Rob's shoulder, "it's her turn at the bar."
"The bar?"
"Sure, they're mixing non-alcoholic cocktails. My advice - stay away from the Shirley Temples. Joanna has a heavy hand with the grenadine."
"Oh, God, she saw me."
Eveline raised an eyebrow. "So what? Go say hi."
"I can't!" he hissed.
"Why not?"
"Um. . ." Now what? Tell Eveline that I'm embarrassed because I insulted her friend - or tell her that I think her friend is beneath me? Not good options.
Fortunately he was saved by the arrival of Georgiana. "Come on, Will," she said, linking her arm through his. "I want you to meet some people." She led him to a cluster of decidedly non-college-aged people - to his great relief - and said, "This is my brother William. Will, these are some of the grad students that live near campus. This is Lucy, and Brian, and Sean, and Robin." The grad students were pleasant enough, and they at least didn't make him feel old. Robin was even a Ph.D. candidate. She was also tall, slim, blonde, blue-eyed, and gorgeous. And single. See, he told himself. This could work out okay after all.
Except that she's boring. Five minutes later he leaned his back against the wall, facing Robin as she detailed the major points of her thesis on tree branch regeneration. William had never been one to underestimate the importance of botany, but he found the conversation less than compelling. His eyes wandered around the room, lingering on the bar where Elizabeth was handing a plastic cup to a guy in khakis and a baseball cap. She smiled as she passed him his drink, but William could tell she was bored. He admitted grudgingly to himself that if he had seen her on the street, dressed as she was now, he would never have been able to guess that she came from a background any different from his and Georgiana's (he could, however, tell that her background was different from Caroline's - she wasn't wearing nearly enough jewelry). Her long dark hair had been pulled up and had probably been neat at the start of the evening, but now dark curls were escaping and hanging prettily on her neck. She wore a black shirt with thin straps, form-fitting but not tight, with silver flowers patterned on it. Even from across the room he could tell that her bare arms were well-toned - all that lacrosse, probably. Someone waved to her and she flashed her friend a genuine smile that lit up her face.
"William?"
He turned, chagrined, to find that Robin had noticed his inattentiveness.
"Something wrong?" she asked.
"Um. . ." He looked frantically around the room, trying to spot any excuse. "No, I was just -" He stopped abruptly, staring over Robin's right shoulder. It can't be!
"What?" Robin asked, sounding concerned.
"Oh, my God," he said aloud.
"What?"
"I have to go," he told her quickly. Without another word he ran into the crowd, looking for his sister.
He found her chatting with Moira Grayson and dragged her out of the room into the hall. "William!" she protested. "What's the matter with you?"
"Go up to your room and lock the door," he whispered urgently. "Don't ask questions, just go! Don't answer the door for anyone but me."
Her eyes widened in fear. "Is it -"
"Yes! Quick, hurry!"
She turned to go, calling over her shoulder, "Get Elizabeth; she'll know what to do!"
Oh, great.
He made his way back through the crowd, keeping his eye on the tall man at the back of the room. So far, the other man hadn't seen him. Good. He slipped up to the bar, head down, trying to appear inconspicuous.
"Well, hello," Elizabeth drawled. "Do you usually frequent such lowbrow entertainments?"
He leaned over the table to whisper in her ear, ignoring her startled expression. "We have a problem."
She arched an eyebrow. "We?"
"It's Georgiana. Can you get someone to cover for you?"
His urgent tone convinced her that he was serious. Without a word she gestured toward a small blonde girl and handed her a bottle of lime juice. "Have fun," she said hurriedly, then waded through the crowd into the hallway with William close behind.
When they reached the lighted hall she turned around to face him. "What -"
He cut her off by dragging her unceremoniously into the stairwell. "Keep your voice down," he muttered. "There's a guy out there - his name is George Wickham."
"And?"
He took a deep breath, praying that Elizabeth wasn't really as skeptical as she sounded. "Georgiana has a restraining order out against him."
The color drained from Elizabeth's face, but she recovered quickly from the initial shock. "What for?" she asked. "Forcing her to associate with the lower classes?"
"He tried to kidnap her," William said. "Don't look at me like that, he really did. We went to school together. When we were seniors in college he decided to make some fast cash by holding Georgie for ransom. She knew and trusted him, so it would have been easy. I came home early that night, just in time to catch him trying to break in. They couldn't make any criminal charges stick, but the judge granted a restraining order to keep her safe. And now he's here."
"Where's Georgiana?" Elizabeth asked worriedly. Despite her personal feelings, she obviously believed him.
"I told her to go to her room and lock the door."
"Does this guy know she's here?"
"Last I heard he was living three hours away, so I can't think of any other reason he would be here except to -"
"To go after her again," Elizabeth finished.
William nodded. "He could have found out where she was from practically anywhere - the local newspaper even printed a list of where the seniors from her school were going to college."
Elizabeth looked about ready to punch him. "Didn't you think to keep her information out of the paper?"
"I didn't know they were going to do it!"
She sighed. "All right. Here's what we do." Apparently she wasn't quite sure yet, because she paused to think. "You go upstairs to Georgie and lock the door behind you. I'll get rid of him."
"Call the police!"
"I can't." She brushed a loose strand of hair out of her face. "First of all he'll say that he didn't know she was here, and second of all if somehow he really doesn't know she's here we don't want to tell him."
He frowned. "I'm not sure I followed that, but I think you may have a point."
"Tomorrow I'll file papers to get him banned from campus."
"You can do that?" he interrupted.
"As head of the dorm I can. For now I'll just get him out of the building and make sure he drives away, then when he's gone I'll alert the campus police."
"How are you going to get rid of him?" he asked.
She shrugged. "Let me worry about that. You go make sure your sister's okay."
"All right," he said reluctantly. "As long as you're sure that's all we can do."
"For now it is. Go on."
"Elizabeth?"
She turned back to face him on the stairs. "Yes?"
"Do you want help?"
"Do you want him to see you?" she returned.
"No."
"Then no."
"Someone else though - you should. . ."
"Hey, Your Majesty," she interrupted. "I don't need help. Go."
"Fine." He started up the stairs, then turned. "Hey, Elizabeth?"
"What?"
"Be careful."
She tossed him an odd look, then pushed her way back into the crowd.
Elizabeth pushed gently but firmly through the crowd of dancing bodies toward the tall man in the far corner, keeping a steady eye on the back of the head that William had indicated. All right, now what? She had deliberately led William Darcy to believe that she knew exactly what she was doing. It wasn't out of pride - okay, it was.
"Elizabeth!"
She whirled around to find herself face-to-face with her neighbor Ariella. "Just a minute," she answered. "I have to take care of something."
She turned around again and cursed under her breath. The dark head was gone. She pushed toward the corner, hoping he hadn't gone far, and after a moment to her relief the head reappeared. Good.
She pushed her way into the little knot of dancing frat boys, trying to conceal her distaste, and addressed herself to the tall, dark-haired (absolutely gorgeous!) man. "Are you George?" she asked.
He smiled suggestively and leaned toward her. "Depends on who's asking."
All right, maybe he's not so hot after all. "My name is - Liz." Best not to tell him her whole real name, come to think of it.
"Well, Liz." He slipped an arm around her shoulders. "What can I do for you?"
She fought the urge to either run away or be sick. "Um. . ." Okay, Miss I-Can-Handle-It, think! "I was just wondering. . ." Swallowing hard, she leaned closer to him and ran one hand over his upper arm. ". . .how old you are."
He laughed. "How old I am? Old enough, honey."
Oh, gross. "I'm sure you are," she replied evenly. "I was just, you know - wondering. . ."
He practically leered at her, and she was almost positive he was trying to see down her shirt. "Well, just for your information then - I'm twenty-five."
She nodded. "I was afraid of that."
"Think I'm more than you can handle?"
"No," she said, suppressing her gag reflex, "I'm afraid there's an age limit at private dorm parties on this campus. No one over twenty-two admitted. I'm surprised the ID checker didn't card you."
George laughed again. "Wait, that's not true, is it? Are you putting me on?"
Of course it's not true, you idiot. It's the best I could come up with. "Yes, I'm afraid so. I'm going to have to ask you to leave."
He tightened his arm around her waist. "Go on and ask, honey."
In one smooth move she twisted out of his grip and stood facing him, calling up all of her height to match his. "This is me asking."
He laughed. "Wait, you're really going to throw me out?"
She shrugged. "Not my choice, sorry. Door's over there."
"Can't we just forget all about this?" he wheedled. "I'm not hurting anybody, and I'm sure you and I could get to know one another a little better."
"I don't think that would be a good idea," she said, racking her brain for ideas. "Have you ever been to one of our parties before?"
"No."
Thank God. "I thought not. See, when the police show up in about twenty minutes to patrol the party, you're going to look awfully conspicuous among all these college kids. If I were you, I'd hit the road."
He tried to laugh again. "You're kidding, right?"
"Nope." She checked her watch. "Actually only fifteen minutes." She smiled at him as apologetically as she could. "I'd better show you out before you get in trouble. Trespassing carries a jail sentence in this county."
Five minutes later Elizabeth knocked on Georgiana and Norah's door. "Who is it?" Georgiana called nervously from inside.
"It's Elizabeth. He's gone; let me in."
The latch clicked and the door swung open, William standing protectively in front of the doorway. "Just making sure," he said. "Come on in - oh my God!"
"What?" Elizabeth asked, alarmed.
Georgiana's eyes widened. "What happened?" she asked.
"He fought me a little, but he's gone," Elizabeth replied, still confused.
"He fought you a little?" William repeated incredulously. "My God, you're bleeding!"
Elizabeth quickly looked down and saw the bright red streak down her left arm. "What the. . ." She touched her finger to the dripping substance and tasted it. "Grenadine," she said calmly. "Do you have any paper towels?"
Georgiana silently handed her the roll, and Elizabeth wiped her arm clean. "What did you think, that I got in a knife fight?" she asked in William's general direction.
"With him, who knows," he repeated soberly. "What happened?"
Elizabeth shuddered. "First of all, the man is positively creepy. I have never been hit on in such a nauseating way before."
"I knew I should have gone with you," William muttered.
"Will you relax? I took care of it. He left."
"How did you. . ."
"I told him he was too old to be at a private college party and threatened him with a trespassing arrest."
"Georgiana!" William fairly shouted.
"Oh, it's not true," Elizabeth reassured him. "It was the best excuse I could come up with on short notice."
William relaxed. "So he's gone?"
"He's gone. Tomorrow I'll file papers with campus security, his picture will be posted around campus, and the dorm will be notified not to let him in. And Georgie," she turned to address her directly, "if you see him anywhere on campus, tell me or go to security immediately."
Georgiana nodded.
"So that's it?" William asked.
"That's it."
He nodded thoughtfully. "I want to stay here tonight."
"That's fine," Elizabeth replied. "Tell Norah if she wants to come sleep in my room she can. And if you need me, come and get me - I don't care what time, wake me up." She reached over to give Georgiana a quick hug, which the younger girl gratefully returned. "Don't worry, we'll take care of everything."
"Thank you," William called, just before she walked out the door.
Elizabeth eyed him for a moment. "You're welcome," she said finally. "Good night."
"I shouldn't have let her go alone," William said as soon as the door had closed. "It was stupid - he could have hurt her."
"He didn't," Georgiana replied. "She's a big girl, she can take care of herself."
"Apparently she can," William replied. He laughed shortly and added under his breath, "And of everyone else as well."
"What is. . ." Elizabeth stirred herself out of a deep sleep and raised herself on one elbow to peer at her alarm clock. 3 AM. She glared at the door. I was sure I heard. . .
No, she hadn't imagined it. The knock sounded again, louder this time. Who on earth. . . For a moment she was afraid that it might actually be George Wickham, somehow finding his way back into the building and up to her room. No, that's ridiculous. She fought her way out of the blankets and staggered over to the door, opening it just a crack so she could peek into the hallway.
"William?" she asked in disbelief, suddenly awake. "Is something wrong?"
He raked a hand through slightly disheveled brown hair. "Can I come in?"
Recovered from the initial shock, she stared at him incredulously through the four-inch gap in the door. "It's three in the morning."
"Yes, I know." He at least had the good grace to look a bit sheepish.
"Well, come on in if you have to." She stepped back and opened the door all the way, flipping the lights on as she did so.
"Thanks." He slipped past her into the room wearing only boxers and a rather small t-shirt that Elizabeth recognized as Georgiana's. A sudden reflex made her look down quickly, and she was relieved to see that she was in fact wearing both a shirt and shorts.
"Sit down," she said, gesturing toward her desk chair and seating herself on the unmade bed. "What's the matter?"
William settled himself on the chair and surveyed his companion. She was, he thought, probably unaware that her tank top was quite form-fitting and low-cut, and probably also unaware that her dark hair looked rather fetching when it was loose. Suddenly he realized that he was staring. "It's about Georgiana," he said quickly.
She arched an eyebrow as if to say yes, I figured that out.
"Right, good point," he continued. "I didn't want to worry her by talking to you while she was around."
So you woke me up in the middle of the night instead? Do they have phones in your world? "Okay," she said aloud, trying not to yawn.
"Did he mention her at all?" William asked.
"Who, George? No, neither of us did."
"You didn't ask him why he was there?"
Elizabeth threw up her hands. "Next time you ask me to get rid of a stalker I'll get written instructions. No, he didn't mention why he was there."
"That's what I was afraid of." He glanced anxiously toward the window. "Because there's been a car parked outside Georgie's window since two, with someone in it. From her window I couldn't see his face."
Elizabeth's eyes widened. "Why didn't you say that at first?" she asked.
"I didn't want to scare you if you knew he had left or something."
"Well, now I'm scared," she said. "Her room is on the same side of the building as mine. Turn the lights off."
He obliged, plunging them into darkness, and they both crept over to the window and peered out. Sure enough, a dark colored car was parked on the street outside in the area of Georgiana's room and a tall man wearing a hat sat in the front seat. Elizabeth leaned forward, trying to get a better look at his face, and shrieked when someone grabbed her from behind.
"Shh!" William whispered. "I was trying to pull you behind the curtain. If you lean out like that he can see you."
"Sorry." It never struck her as odd that his arms stayed around her waist as they stood at the window - her conscious mind was focused on the man in the car and her unconscious assumed he was trying to keep her out of the way.
"So is it him?" William asked, leaning over her shoulder. The fact that he was still holding her against him was completely forgotten in the tension.
"I can't tell, there's a glare. Hang on, he's looking the other way." She took advantage of the mysterious man's inattention to get a better look, only to discover that William was still holding her back. "Hey, you want to let go?" she whispered, straining against his arms.
"Oops," William said, blushing in the dark. "Sorry."
She leaned out of the shadow of the curtains, standing on her toes to get a better angle. "He's turning a little - hold on - oh!" she gasped, throwing herself backward (and directly into William's chest).
"What?" he asked, throwing his arms reflexively around her.
"He was turning around," she answered, catching her breath.
"Well?"
She leaned over as far as she could with him still holding her. "No," she said, surprised. "It's not him."
"It's not?"
"Look for yourself," she replied, ducking so that he could see over her.
"No," he said in the same surprised tone. "It's not him."
"I said that," she hissed, smacking at his leg. "Do you recognize him?"
"No."
"I didn't either." She slid down the wall to a sitting position under the window. "Any other old grudges I should know about?"
"No," he replied, joining her on the floor. "Unless George figured out that we were on to him and sent this guy."
"We?" she echoed. "You know, you have a real problem with your pronouns. George doesn't know me."
"He does now," William pointed out.
"He doesn't know I know you."
"But he probably figures you for an RA or something, meaning you would have to know Georgiana."
"But - wait a minute," Elizabeth said, trying to clear her head of the too-complicated series of reasoning. "Let me get a look at that guy again." She straightened up carefully and peered over the windowsill.
"Well?" William asked, giving up on craning his neck and staring at her knee instead.
"I wonder. . ." She slid back down and whispered, "Hand me the phone, would you? It's on that table there." She held the phone up to the meager light from the window to dial. "Becca?" she asked quietly after a moment. "It's Elizabeth. Sorry to bother you, but it's an emergency - would you look out your window please? At the guy in the car." A long pause ensued, and she waved at William to be quiet. "It is? Are you sure? Oh, good - I was getting a little nervous. Thanks, Bec - sorry to wake you up." She replaced the phone in its cradle and whispered, "It's Becca from downstairs's boyfriend. I guess he didn't want to wake her up."
"Oh," William replied. "Sorry."
"That's all right," Elizabeth answered, leaning her head tiredly against the wall. "Better to be sure."
William looked at her intently for a moment. "How do you do it?" he asked finally.
"Do what?"
"Everything," he said. "Deal with everyone else's problems twenty-four hours a day. How do you handle it?"
"Hey, you're the one who woke me up," she teased.
"Sorry."
"Quit apologizing." She thought for a moment. "I guess I just like taking care of things. I like having problems solved."
"Hmm." He considered that for a moment. "Elizabeth?"
"What?"
"I know you told me to stop apologizing, but I want to say I'm sorry for - well, everything, I guess. For the beginning of the year. I was out of line."
"Apology accepted," she said. "I know I'm not exactly country-club material. . ."
"That's true - ouch!"
Elizabeth continued as if she hadn't just smacked him. "But I like to think of myself as having some class nevertheless. Enough not to embarrass your sister's society friends, anyway."
"Yes, you do," he acknowledged, smiling at her. "But I wouldn't trust you not to mess with their heads."
"Quite right," she agreed, returning the smile.
He held out his hand. "Truce?"
"Truce," she replied. "Now, do you think we can go back to bed? I'm dying here."
"Oh, of course - sorry."
"Stop that!" She got to her feet, shaking her head. "Honestly, for a guy so sure of himself you apologize an awful lot."
"Sorry." This time he managed to duck before she hit him.
Sorry this update has taken a while, but there are demons in my computer and they have just eaten the mouse.
Only four hours after creeping out of Georgiana's dorm in the wee hours of the morning, William received an e-mail from Elizabeth telling him that she had filed forms with campus security but would be needing a photo of George. Impressed with her speed, William dug out an old picture of George and his father on the day of George's college graduation three years previous and put it in the mail. He then tried to put the entire incident out of his mind, trust Elizabeth to look after Georgie, and get to work.
After three hours of complete immersion in portfolios and reports William was interrupted by the beep of an incoming e-mail. He noted the address and opened it quickly, hoping that nothing was wrong.
To: darcyw@darcy.net
From: ebennet@cc.eduSubject: The Eagle has landed.
He laughed to himself and scrolled down.
I always wanted to say that. Hey, William. Just letting you know that everything is fine and there have been no "sightings" all afternoon. Hope you put that photo in the mail though. I'm keeping an eye on Georgiana and Norah is playing watchdog at the window, but I think it's going to be okay so don't worry!-E
Don't worry. Sure. He had to smile though - Elizabeth certainly had a way with words. Trust her to make George Wickham sound like a UFO.
When he spoke to his sister on the phone later he didn't mention Elizabeth's messages, not wanting Georgie to think that he was spying on her or that Elizabeth was babying her. In fact, he studiously tried not to mention Elizabeth at all. He wasn't quite sure how this plan failed, but he was almost positive that it was his sister's fault.
"So," she said in a sly tone completely different from the serious one she had been using throughout the conversation. "How did you sleep last night?"
"Not too well," he replied casually, feeling his face heat up. "Your floor is pretty hard."
"Uh-huh," Georgiana replied. "Harder than, say, the fifth floor?"
There's no way. "I would think they would be pretty similar," he said after swallowing very hard.
"You would think?" she asked sweetly. "I rather thought you had some first-hand experience in that department."
"And why would you think that?" he asked, trying to be calm.
"'Cause Gracie heard your voice outside her room at three in the morning," Georgiana replied.
"I've never even met Grace!" he protested, hoping to get her off the subject. He hadn't told her about his fear of the night before, and he didn't want to frighten her now either. He also didn't want to admit to the nearly half-hour he had spent crawling round in the dark in Elizabeth's room.
"No, but she lives right next door to Elizabeth," Georgiana commented.
"Does she?" His mouth was dry.
"What on earth were you and Elizabeth doing at three in the morning?"
"Uh. . ."
She waited patiently. "William?"
"We were. . ."
"Yes?"
"I was. . ."
"You were. . ."
"I heard a crash," he said with a sudden burst of inspiration. "Something heavy fell upstairs and I ran up to make sure no one was hurt."
"At three AM?"
"Yes," he said after a moment. "Someone had gotten up in the middle of the night and tripped. That's all. Grace must have heard me asking Elizabeth if everyone was all right."
"Oh, okay," she said, not buying it for a second. She didn't really suspect her brother of having a mysterious liaison with Elizabeth, but she knew for sure that something was going on that neither of them wanted her to know about. She suspected it had something to do with her and George, but she also thought that William's nervousness had more to do with Elizabeth than with the crisis at hand. She would have to ponder that a bit more.
Try as he might, William couldn't stop worrying about his sister and George Wickham. In the three days since his appearance at the dorm party Elizabeth had kept him well informed - without Georgiana's knowledge, he was sure - but he couldn't shake the feeling that something was bound to happen. On Wednesday he finally gave in to his worries and took the afternoon off - earning shocked and stunned looks from both his secretaries - and drove to the college.
He didn't go straight to the dorm; that would be too obvious and Georgiana might get angry. Instead he decided to cruise the town for a while, looking for anything suspicious. He spent almost an hour walking up and down the main street, peering into shops and coffee houses and glaring at all unfortunate young men in baseball caps. He was just beginning to come to terms with the depths of his psychosis when he was startled by a tapping sound on a window near his head. Looking up, he saw a confused but archly smiling Elizabeth Bennet in the window of a small cafe. Smiling back, he entered the shop and crossed to her table.
"Wordsworth," he said, eyeing her book as he slid into the free chair.
"Hello to you too," she replied. "What are you doing, playing James Bond?"
"Actually I always identified more with Remington Steele."
"Pierce Brosnan either way."
"Excellent point." He poked at a napkin holder and said, "I was worried."
"Ah."
He didn't have to look at her to know what she was thinking. "All right, I was positively neurotic. I just came up to - check things out. You know."
"Darcy. William Darcy." She sipped her coffee calmly. "And how do you find things?"
"I haven't been to the dorm yet."
"Right."
"That would be -"
"Over-protective?" Elizabeth finished. He glared at her and she smiled. "You are, you know. Not that it's a bad thing. But she's fine."
"She's not like you!" he burst out, surprising himself as much as her.
"True," Elizabeth said. He thought he detected a new hint of coldness in her tone. "She's more delicate."
"Well, yes."
"Fragile."
"Yes."
"Feminine."
"Yes!" Too late he realized what he had said. "Oh, you know that's not what I mean."
"Of course not." Elizabeth very calmly stirred her coffee. Her calm was beginning to unnerve him, which was probably what she had in mind. "All you meant was that Georgiana is sweet and refined and not physically strong or emotionally capable of putting herself forward and taking charge. Whereas I on the other hand come from different stock - I'm strong, and I'm used to taking care of people. You probably have a housekeeper just like me, right?" He was unable to formulate a reply fast enough, and she continued, "Well let me tell you something. Georgiana doesn't take charge because she has never had the need. You've always done it for her, and you have no idea what she's capable of. Neither do I. Neither does she. But you know what? She doesn't think that we're different. She doesn't think that our personalities are different because we're from different classes - and you obviously still do." Practically shaking, she got to her feet and gathered up her things. "It's no crime to worry about your sister. But she won't be safe until you start worrying about her, and not about the rest of the world."
She was gone before William figured out what she had meant. Is she right? Am I so worried about what other people will do to Georgiana that I've forgotten to worry about Georgiana herself? He sat for a long time without moving. He realized suddenly that if asked he would define Georgiana's personality as shy, retiring, diffident. That's not her personality - that's her behavior around strangers. It was a scary thought, that he didn't really know his sister at all. He couldn't have listed her strengths other than her acquired talents for music and poetry, couldn't really formulate a clear picture of her character. What Elizabeth had seen was that he thought of his sister as a caricature - and until I stop doing that, I will see everyone else that way too. Wasn't that what he had done with Elizabeth herself? Even after learning to accept her - even to like her - he persisted in seeing her as a type and expecting that he knew how she would behave on any given occasion.
The question was, did he really know how Georgiana would behave away from his influence, or did he only know how he expected her to behave? For the first time ever he wondered if his relationship with his little sister was based on her playing a part. And suddenly he really wanted to talk to Elizabeth.
The very next day, unable to stop thinking about what Elizabeth had told him, William found himself at his sister's dorm at a time that he was quite aware his sister was in class. "What am I doing? This is ridiculous - I'm leaving right now," he said aloud as he rang the doorbell. The door was opened by Georgiana's friend Kara, a pleasant-looking girl from a lovely family in Philadelphia's Main Line. William mentally slapped himself for knowing this, and then again for caring about it.
"William!" Kara said immediately. "Come on in, I don't know whether your sister is here."
"I know it's not strictly allowed," William said with a conspiratorial smile, "but do you think I could just run up and check?"
Kara gave the appearance of wavering for a second. "Sure, why not. I trust you."
He beamed at her. "Thanks."
His internal monologue continued all the way up the stairs. This is the dumbest thing you've ever done. Here, we're at Georgie's floor. Just stop and see if she's here and then go - where are you going? Stop it now. She might not even be there. She doesn't like you. You don't like her. You know you don't! You don't, you don't, you don't! Where are you going? Idiot! Unfortunately his inner monologue was not capable of keeping him from walking straight to the fifth floor and down the hall to Elizabeth's room.
"Come in," was her friendly but sedate response to his knock on the closed door. Without a word he opened the door and put his head in. Elizabeth was sitting at her desk with her back to him, typing something on her computer. "Just a second," she called without looking back at him. He leaned over to study the computer screen. It was an essay on Wordsworth - a well-written essay, from the looks of it. She typed a mile a minute, not even looking at her fingers on the keyboard.
Finally she came to the end of a paragraph and twisted around in her chair. The color and expression of her face immediately took a turn for the worse. "William," she said, trying to recover her composure.
"Sorry," he said. Don't apologize, you idiot! "I mean, can I come in?"
She raised an eyebrow. "In broad daylight? If you must."
"I must, I'm afraid." He slipped inside and pushed the door shut behind him. "I wanted to say -"
"Look," she interrupted. "I'm sorry about going off on you like that. I know you don't mean to - well anyway, I apologize."
"But you don't understand," he cried. "What I meant was -"
"I said I was sorry - nothing happened, I overreacted. Can we just forget about it?"
"But you were right!" he finally half-shouted.
"Excuse me?"
Without waiting for an invitation he sank onto the edge of her bed. "You were right. About Georgiana, I mean. I only see her as my little sister, not as someone with her own life."
Elizabeth looked as if she repented some of her harshness. Some, but probably not all. "She's a lot younger than you are," she said in a more moderate tone. "And you've been alone with her for so long, I can understand how you would consider her a child. But she's not."
"I know that," he said. "Rationally."
"Right," she replied with a smile. "But knowing it rationally and believing it are -"
"Two very different things."
She smiled, then seemed to jolt herself. "God, I'm sorry," she said in a completely different voice. "What am I - I mean -" She stopped and tried again. "I have no right to tell you how to handle your sister, I -"
"Don't apologize," he said, hoping to draw another smile.
It almost worked; one corner of her mouth twitched vaguely upward. "Sorry," she said ruefully.
For a long moment neither of them spoke. Finally, sensing the awkwardness, William broke the silence. "What do I do?" he asked seriously. "I'm worried - especially about George being around - but I don't want to smother her."
Elizabeth twisted her hands in her lap. "I wish I could answer that," she replied. "All I can tell you is that we're looking after her here, and looking out for any signs of him. Maybe a more long-distance relationship with her family would help Georgiana work some things out."
She wants to get rid of me, he realized. "Of course, you're right," he said quickly, rising to his feet. "It's just hard, you know?"
"Yeah," Elizabeth replied. "I know." She stood looking at him for a long time, not quite knowing what to do. If he had been one of her residents she would probably have hugged him and promised her support, but she could hardly do that with William. Not to mention the fact that he didn't want anything to do with her, or the fact that he was three years older and didn't really need advice from a college friend of his little sister's.
"Well," William said finally. "Off I go."
She shook herself out of her haze and nodded.
"You won't tell her I was here?"
She seemed confused but said only, "Okay."
"Right." He cleared his throat. "Well, good-bye, Elizabeth."
"Good-bye."
Having formed a new resolution to leave his sister to her life as much as possible (and stay away from Elizabeth), William had no intention of coming back up to the college for several weeks at least. That was his intention. It did not take into account Georgiana herself and her machinations to save her brother's love life.
Although leaning toward Elizabeth, Georgiana had entertained hopes that William might at least bond with Robin at the party, but that had obviously not worked as planned. She thought that was because of George Wickham's untimely appearance, but when she mentioned Robin and William replied, "The tree woman?" Georgiana pretty much gave up on that plan.
She did not give up on the basic idea itself. Instead she called her brother and invited him to campus for her birthday the second week in October.
"I don't know," he said reluctantly. "Why don't you celebrate with your friends, and you can come home for the weekend for a family party?"
"With who, Aunt Catherine?" Georgiana shuddered on her end. "Please! No, I want you to come up here. Please?"
"Georgie. . ."
"Please?"
"You don't want me up there with all your friends from school and everything," he said. "I wouldn't want a big brother looking over my shoulder all the time."
"It's not looking over my shoulder," she pleaded. "I want you there. Please?"
"Oh, all right." What could he do?
"Great!" Georgiana hung up the phone feeling quite proud of herself. This plan absolutely could not fail. Not knowing, of course, that her brother and Elizabeth had met on two occasions since that first party she could not know the current awkward state of affairs between them.
Because he had rotten luck, the first person William saw when he arrived at the dorm was Elizabeth. After three weeks the embarrassment they both felt had not faded. She felt that she had insulted him and was sure that he thought her devoid of class or manners. He thought she was insulted by his snobbery and thought of him as a manipulative bully. There were moments when he remembered the short-lived camaraderie they had seemed to develop when looking out for George, but mostly he was resolved to stay out of her way.
And out of the way of whoever that tall guy with the glasses was, the one who was running around kissing all the girls' hands. Who on earth was that? Surely not one of Georgiana's friends.
"Norah," William hissed as she came to greet him. "Where is my sister and who is that?"
Norah fairly snorted with repressed laughter. "Bill Collins. He's a grad student at one of the other schools."
"In what?"
"Religion."
"Religion?" William frowned. "Isn't he rather over-attentive to the females?"
"He's a student, not a priest," Norah replied. "Besides, it's all for show. He's trying to make Elizabeth jealous."
WHAT? "He's going out with Elizabeth?"
Norah laughed at his obvious disbelief. "Good Lord no! But he wants to."
"Oh." Why am I relieved? Stop it, William.
"Wait!" Norah held up her hand for him to be quiet. "Listen."
Indeed, they could hear every word that Bill Collins was saying to the man next to him. "It was in the book," he was saying. "Women like aggressive men. That's what I've been doing wrong all this time. What she wants is for me to be a man - take control - overcome her resistance."
Norah and William looked at each other and tried not to laugh.
"So what are you planning to do?" the other man asked Bill.
"Simply drag her off somewhere where we can be alone," Bill replied cheerfully.
Norah was no longer able to restrain her amusement, but William was beginning to be worried. This Bill looked like too much of a toady to be actually dangerous to someone like Elizabeth, but who knew?
Uh-oh. Elizabeth had spotted them and looked angry. She probably thinks I'm laughing at her, William realized. She headed in his direction, looking not fully in control of her temper.
"Beth, darling!" At the first sight of her Bill Collins strode toward them, trying to intercept her. He moved toward her with arms outstretched. Elizabeth stopped directly in front of William and turned to look with horror at the approaching Bill. "Oh no," she whispered.
"Just get rid of him," William muttered, forgetting to feel awkward.
"The last time I tried that I wound up with bruised lips and teeth marks on - well, never mind," she hissed back. William shuddered.
"I've been looking for you everywhere!" Bill continued, advancing at an incredible speed through the crowd.
William stood behind the unfortunate Elizabeth, trying to decide whether he should intervene or not, when suddenly Elizabeth turned on him with her eyes blazing.
"Kiss me," she said urgently.
"What?"
"Kiss me!" she repeated. At his look of disbelief she added, "I'll owe you my first-born."
"But -"
She looked behind her with increasing urgency. "If it's either you or him, I at least trust you not to bite my shoulder."
"Why me?"
"Because you're here!" Her eyes widened as Bill approached. "William! I'm desperate!"
"Right." Oh, this is bad. But there was really only one honorable thing to do. This is very, very bad. Before he could talk himself out of it he threw both arms around Elizabeth, pulled her hard against him, and kissed her.
He had underestimated her desire to be rid of Bill. She wrapped both arms around his neck and kissed him back very convincingly.
He had also underestimated his own susceptibility to being kissed. Two years with Caroline had never prompted a reaction like this. Bill was forgotten - probably not by Elizabeth, who was certainly doing this only for show, but certainly by William. Everything, in fact, was forgotten except for Elizabeth in his arms.
Including Georgiana, who picked that moment to return from the kitchen and watched with dropped jaw.
After a good two and a half minutes Elizabeth finally pulled away. "Is he gone?" she whispered, pretending to lean against William's shoulder.
"Ah. . ." Was it his imagination, or was she a little out of breath? He held her close, stroking her dark hair and hoping she hadn't noticed his distraction. "Yes, he's gone." Bill was nowhere to be seen.
Elizabeth pushed back from him, brushing hair out of her eyes. "Good," she said after a moment, not sounding quite herself. "Um - thank you."
"No problem." He was fighting the urge to grab her.
"I owe you one."
I certainly hope so. "Right."
"Right." She took several deep breaths. Their eyes met in some confusion. "Yes. So he's gone?"
"Yes."
"Good."
There was a long silence.
"So," William said. "You're all right now."
"Yes."
"Good."
In one movement they found themselves kissing again, with absolutely no excuse.
Just as quickly as they had rushed together, William and Elizabeth pulled away from each other in startled confusion. William stared at her in horror, trying to imagine what had made him do such a thing, why she had done it as well, and what on earth he was supposed to do now.
"Oh God," he said, unable to come up with anything else.
"Oh God?" Elizabeth echoed in disbelief. "Oh God?"
"What?"
"That's what you have to say for yourself? Oh God?"
"What I have to say for myself?" he asked. "What about you?"
"What about me?"
It suddenly occurred to William that pretty near everyone in the room was currently staring at them - and that his sister was among the stunned and fascinated onlookers. Acting immediately on impulse, he grabbed Elizabeth by the arm and dragged her into the hall.
"Now what was that?" she demanded as soon as they were out of earshot.
"Nothing to see here!" William shouted back at the people who were still trying to watch them. He turned back to Elizabeth in serious danger of losing his temper. "What are you asking me for? You were there!"
"No kidding!" she retorted. "I think you crushed my ribs."
"You asked me to kiss you!"
"Once!" she fairly shouted back.
"You kissed me the second time!"
"No way, you definitely kissed me."
He raked a hand through his (now slightly more disheveled than usual) hair. "Okay, fine, it was as much my fault as yours." Before she could protest he added, "The question is, what are we going to do about it?"
"What are we going to do about it?"
He glared at her. "Do you not hear things the first time, or do you just repeat them to savor the moment?"
She glared right back. "I am not personally of the opinion that anything needs to be done."
"Oh really? Then would you like to tell me what made us. . ."
"What made us what?" she challenged.
"You know what I'm talking about," he said. "Whether you want to admit it or not, we just went at it in the middle of a crowded room well after your little worshiper was gone. Now that suggests to me that there's something going on."
"Well it's not going on anymore," she replied, her eyes flashing dangerously at him.
"So you admit it?"
"Admit what?"
"You're attracted to me," he said triumphantly.
"Works both ways," she pointed out.
"So you don't deny it?"
Caught, Elizabeth struggled to keep herself from blushing and thereby sacrificing any dignity she might have left. "I don't deny that I experienced a natural reaction due to an unusual degree of intimacy between us - and, might I add, it's going to stay unusual."
He grinned. "You keep telling yourself that."
Her eyebrow shot up. "So are you telling me that you plan to - what, to pursue. . . something? Am I that irresistible, or are you just that arrogant?"
He leaned closer, deliberately invading her personal space. "I'm telling you that you may not be able to control yourself. I on the other hand have nothing to worry about."
"Oh no?"
"No." He smiled cheerfully. "I don't expect your charms to be anything I can't handle."
"Oh, I see." She took a step closer, surprising him into leaning backward - and finding himself trapped up against the wall. She traced one finger very deliberately over the back of his hand and began to follow the line up his forearm. "So what you're saying is that while I must find you devastatingly attractive," her hand reached his shoulder and began to trace a distracting path across his collarbone, "I present no challenge to the experience of a connoisseur such as yourself."
He gulped. "Yes."
She laughed deep in her throat, a new sparkle in her clear eyes. "All right." She stepped away slowly. "I'll try to restrain myself from now on." With infinite slowness she pressed her lips to his neck and then turned to go. "And you can explain to Georgiana what she just saw. I think she's still gaping. Remember to throw in the part about how you weren't even remotely tempted."
Then she was gone, and William was left trying to catch his breath. I knew that was going to be bad.
He leaned against the wall for support, wondering what on earth was going on. He had never thought he was attracted to Elizabeth - sure, she was pretty, had a great figure and nice legs (all that running, he reminded himself), and she was intelligent and had a wonderful sense of humor, and was nice to everyone except him (especially to Georgiana), and she was strong and capable and oh dear, this was a problem.
"She's a college girl!" he told himself forcefully. "She's twenty-one years old, she's beneath you, she's masculine - all right, she doesn't look masculine but you know she acts that way - and she hates you!" This logic might have been faultless, but unfortunately he seemed to be beyond logic. "Am I really attracted to her?" he wondered out loud. He had to admit that on a purely physical level, yes, he was - he must be. The simple memory of her kiss made him blush. But was it any more than that - any more than a chemical attraction or a childish crush? He couldn't tell, never having felt so very confused about anyone ever before.
He could not know, of course, that Elizabeth was out in the living room circulating amongst Georgiana's friends and trying simultaneously to ignore Georgie's curious stares and to erase the physical memory of William's touch. To her great dismay, her body seemed to have imprinted permanently the feel of his arms around her - for goodness sake, Elizabeth, stop it right now. The arrogant jerk is certainly not concerning himself with you - he only did it to shake you up - and it worked! She slapped herself mentally for getting carried away - physically. It was only physical. Strong, surely, but no more than physical.
She had the distinct and disturbing impression that this was going to be a problem.