Section I, Next Section

Chapter I

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of talent and physical prowess must be in want of a wife. Therefore, when such a man appears in a neighborhood, the truth of this matter is so firmly fixed in the minds of the families of the surrounding countryside that he is viewed as the property of one or other of their daughters.

"Tom! Tom! Fernham Track is let at last!" Mrs. Bennet stopped, and looked at Mr. Bennet expectantly. When he did not reply, she said, "Well, do you not want to know who has taken it?" Mr. Bennet put down his book and looked at his wife with painful resignation writ clearly on his features.

"You want to tell me, and I have no objection to hearing it."

"It is taken by a young man of large fortune from the north of England. But you'll never guess who!" She looked at her husband expectantly.

"Ewan McGregor."

Mrs. Bennet clapped her hands together in annoyance. "No, no Thomas. He's from Scotland. No, it's Charles Bingley. Charles Bingley!" Mr. Bennet tilted his head in acknowledgment of her vehemence. "You do know who Charles Bingley is, don't you?" Mrs. Bennet asked, irritated at his lack of excitement.

"Of course, my dear. No one could live in a house with you and Kitty and Lydia and not know about Charles Bingley."

Charles Bingley was a household name in those households that housed serious runners.

"Yes! And he intends to offer it to the team to practice on! He even offered to hold meets there! It has the most wonderful indoor track, and the cross-country trails are spectacular! Why, they are said to be the best in the country! He has over a hundred men cleaning up the trails, and he is re-finishing the track for the coming season. What a fine thing for our girls!"

"Yes indeed. They will be glad to have a good track to run on. Liz especially will appreciate the trails."

Mrs. Bennet sighed in exasperation. "My dear, you must know that I am thinking of his marrying one of them."

Mr. Bennet sighed and settled back in his chair as they trod this well-worn path.

Mrs. Bennet's raptures could be heard all over the house. Upstairs, getting ready for their daily run, Jane and Elizabeth Bennet looked at each other and rolled their eyes. They hurried downstairs hoping that they would miss their mother. They were lucky. They could hear her shrieking at Kitty, Lydia, and Mary to hurry and change because 'They were never going to catch runners if they didn't run themselves.'

Chapter 2

Today, she was angry, which added to her energy. The whole combination left Jane far behind. Elizabeth was angry because her boyfriend, George Wickham, had stood her up again that morning. He had become more and more careless, and Elizabeth was not a woman to be careless with- she resented it. Before she could believe it, she could see the top of the Fernham Track roof above the trees. She must have beaten her own record! She put on an extra burst of speed and reached the gates panting slightly. She ran her fingers through her hair and faced the wind with her eyes shut. She leaned her back against the wall, waiting. Finally, Jane came running up. She smiled at Elizabeth and laughed when Elizabeth called out,

"I won!"

"Wow, Liz. You must have broken your record. That was really fast. You left me much too far behind." Elizabeth laughed with her, and said,

"Yeah. I was angry. It's better now, but I still am angry with George. He stood me up again this morning." Her eyes began to flash dangerously again. "I'm sick and tired of George William's crap. He's done it too many times. I don't have the time or the energy to waste on a loser whose idea of the perfect girlfriend is one who agrees with him on everything and gives him whatever he wants." Jane put her hands on Elizabeth's shoulders.

"Is he still pressuring you to sleep with him?" She asked, concerned. Elizabeth sighed.

"Yes. He doesn't seem to get it when I tell him I'm saving it for marriage. He's not even a Christian, so I couldn't marry him anyway. It goes against what God says. I shouldn't have gone out with him in the first place. It's not as though I ever thought of marrying him anyway. So I'm going to break up with him. He can find some other 'chick' to play his games on. Now," Elizabeth giggled again, "I'll race you back." Jane sighed.

"Elizabeth, you may have the energy to run eight miles with a five minute break in between, but I can't. Besides, we came to see what's going on." Elizabeth smiled sheepishly.

"Sorry. But I want to run."

"Why don't you run around here while I rest. Then we can walk around and see what's happening." Elizabeth thought about it for a second, and then nodded.

"OK, that sounds good."

When Jane was ready, she called Elizabeth. They walked around, admiring the grounds.

"I wonder if Charles Bingley is as handsome as he is said to be," Jane said. Elizabeth laughed

"If he is half as rich as he is said to be, mother will be trying to set one of us up with him. It had better be you, Jane, because I don't think he's my type." Jane looked at Elizabeth, surprised. Then she laughed too.

"You've never even seen him before, much less met him. How do you know he's not your type?" Elizabeth shrugged.

"Just a hunch." They were silent for a while. Then Elizabeth began. "You know, Jane, I would rather marry someone poor than someone rich. I mean, that way, there would be no doubt that I married him for love. You know that we would never marry anyone for anything but love. That's partly why it's so embarrassing when mother tries to find us a rich man. Don't get me wrong," she continued, "Money is fine. But it would be uncomfortable to have too much. I mean, I would always be thinking that I wasn't spending it properly." Jane chipped in-

"At least you wouldn't blow it on houses and cars and clothes and stuff like that."

"No," Elizabeth laughed, "I would most likely give half of it to charity, and the other half I would buy an airplane, get flying lessons, and with the rest of it, live my dream." She sighed, then giggled. "That sounds really corny, but you know what I mean."

"About living a year in every country?"

"Yeah. I would love that. It would be so much fun to learn the language and the customs. I took French partly because I like the language and partly because wherever you go, you can almost always find someone who speaks either French or English. It's very useful. Anyway, I'm off track. I would rather earn my own money and travel on that. Or I could always become a writer. Of course, if I can't be an independent writer, I could work for a travel magazine. Or a food magazine. It would be really cool. I mean, I could write recipes from a new country every year. Although I don't think I could live in Russia very long; what food I had while I was there I would rather not have again." Jane laughed.

"Yeah, I remember you complained about it for weeks. You kept saying that peanut butter and jelly was so good. We couldn't believe you, but you insisted." They laughed. By now, they had circled the entire building and were back at the gates.

"I wonder what it looks like inside." Jane remarked. "Any idea when it opens?"

"No, but mama probably knows. I would like to see the track, but I'm more interested in the cross-country trails."

"You're good at middle distance too though Lizzy."

"I don't like running indoors. Middle distance is your strength, Janey. One of the main reasons I run is because it feels like flying."

"I know- that's why you wear your hair down."

"Well, it looks so bad when I finish that there had better be a really good reason for it to get like that!" Elizabeth smiled. "It looks like I haven't brushed it for years."

The man who had observed all of this didn't agree. He thought it was beautiful. That was, in fact, why he had been following them around ever since Elizabeth had arrived. He had been immediately struck dumb. Lizzy would have laughed in disbelief if anyone had tried to tell her that she had struck a man dumb, but she had. He was a fairly intelligent man, also. He had been favorably impressed by Elizabeth's remarks on the subject of money. As a matter of fact, he also wanted to live in every country for a year. He had already lived in the United States for three years, because of Charles. His name was Frederic Darcy and he was English. He was also 'Old' money, which had given him several generations' worth of experience in avoiding fortune hunters. Quite frankly, they made him sick. Generally, when people didn't recognize him, he wouldn't give his real name. He would go by one of his middle names. It also happened to be his mother's maiden name of Featherstonehaugh. (AN-- pronounced Fanshaw-- it's a real English name, I promise!) So generally when not in business circles or where people knew him, he went by Frederic Featherstonehaugh. It was as Frederic Featherstonehaugh that he introduced himself to these two ladies who had so effectively captured his attention.

They whirled around, the one with the incredible eyes and hair scowling, and the blond angelic one with wide eyes. He smiled to put them at their ease, and Jane smiled back, warming to him. Lizzy, however, looked him over disdainfully. He was wearing his favorite Armani suit, a fact she immediately took in. He also heard her whisper to her sister,

"Uh oh- he's rich." The sister shushed her, and held out her hand.

"I'm Jane Bennet. This is my sister, Elizabeth Bennet."

"Frederic Fan- uh, Featherstonehaugh. Pleased to meet you."

"The pleasure is all ours," Elizabeth said sarcastically. Jane elbowed her. "Sorry, Mr. Featherstonehaugh. I'm not usually like this. Must be PMS," she said with a look at Jane, which dared her to disagree. Jane blushed, positive that Mr. Featherstonehaugh would get offended. Frederic however, had heard the part about George and was not offended. In fact, he smiled.

"You can hardly expect me to believe that; you've been so nice to your sister. And please," he held up his hand to stop the tirade he so clearly saw on the tip of her tongue, "Call me Frederic. Or Fred or Rick. But don't call me Mr. Featherstonehaugh. It makes me feel as though I'm at a business conference with someone I don't like." Elizabeth by now had bitten her tongue, and Jane with another look at her sister, stepped in.

"Of course, Fred. You must call me Jane. Elizabeth goes by Elizabeth generally, but if you can convince her to like you enough, you can call her Lizzy." Elizabeth shot Jane another look.

"Would you like to see the inside of the building?" Frederic asked Jane. She was the more polite of the two, but he still liked Elizabeth best. She was obviously put off by the fact that he was rich- which was better, he thought, than being attracted by it. She also intrigued him. Her rudeness he brushed off- she was still angry with her boyfriend and it was inevitable that it brush off on any other man whom she had no reason to trust. Jane's eyes grew wide.

"Can we?" He laughed, thinking how much her eyes looked like a young child's promised a visit to the sweet shop.

"Of course. Come and I'll introduce you to Charlie."

"Charlie? As in Charles Bingley?" Now he had Elizabeth's attention.

"Yes, why?" he asked

"Because if he is rich and half way good looking, maybe we'd better not. Our mother will automatically assume that he's more or less engaged to one or the other of us. As it is, we probably won't be able to tell her we met you. Once she finds out that you're a bachelor, and that you're good looking, she'll be over here faster than a shot asking you what your ideas are of being married." She looked at him head on, her eyes daring him to blow her off. "And although you don't seem unwilling to meet us, I doubt you're ready to propose yet." This last was said wryly, and he caught a look of embarrassment in her eyes. He smiled reassuringly at her.

"So don't tell her you've met Charlie either. Besides, we can both hold our own against hopeful mothers. If these are your views, I don't think we'll have a problem. He will be delighted to meet you." This time, it was Frederic's turn to stare at her with a challenge in his eyes. A little unwillingly, she laughed.

"OK, it's your funeral. We'll hold her off as long as we can, but if she's with us the next time we meet, you'd better pretend you don't know us and don't have a cent. She may talk to you, but she won't harass you about your marriage views and your annual income." Frederic smiled at her, and offered his arm. Elizabeth took it, a surprised look on her face. "Thank you..." He offered the other to Jane. She took it with a sweet smile. They walked the distance to the gates of Fernham, which he opened with a key. The girls looked with interest at the views revealed from inside. The building was large, and it was quite obviously under construction.

Chapter 3

"Hey! Charlie!" Frederic yelled. The man looked over at them, craning his neck to find the source of the noise. Seeing his friend, Elizabeth saw him grin even wider. She hadn't thought that was possible, but now she knew different. Charlie came loping up to them. He had an easy, graceful stride and covered a lot of ground quickly. He saw the women, and, as Elizabeth had expected, did a double take when he saw Jane. Frederic looked over at Elizabeth to see if she had noticed, and she, feeling his gaze, looked back quirking one eyebrow as she smirked slightly at him.

"They all do that," she whispered.

"I didn't." he whispered back.

"You're the first. Why didn't you, anyway? I meant to ask."

"I prefer brunettes," he murmured glancing at her hair. Elizabeth blushed, and turned to look at Charlie and Jane.

"They are sweet together, aren't they." Charlie, not surprising Frederic, went right for Jane. At this point, however, Frederic steered Elizabeth over to where Charlie was chatting lightly with her sister.

"Charlie, this is Jane and Elizabeth Bennet. If you can get Elizabeth to like you enough, you can call her Lizzy." Charlie smiled at Elizabeth, shaking her hand. When he turned back to Jane, he took her hand and kissed it. Elizabeth suppressed a snort as she rolled her eyes.

"What do you say we leave them to it?" She asked Frederic. He looked inquiringly at her, and nodded towards Jane. "Does it look like she'll miss us? Nah, come on."

She led the way, weaving in and out of groups of workers. She smiled at everyone, acknowledged them if they tried to talk to her, but when the whistles started, Frederic could see her back stiffen. He clenched his fists; anger sweeping over him that these men would dare insult her. For it was clear that she didn't view the whistles as a compliment. However, she kept walking, and he followed her lead. Instead of examining the track, she went right through the back and outside.

"Whew! I'm glad to be out of there!" She said, smiling slightly.

"I'm sorry they upset you. They shouldn't have done that." He could tell by her face that she was considering telling him she had no idea what he was talking about, but finally she just nodded, her smile gone.

"Do you run?" She asked.

"Cross-Country. Charlie does, too, but his passion is middle-distance."

"Jane is exactly the same. They should get along well." Elizabeth smiled.

"How about you? Do you run?"

"Cross-Country. I love it- I can't stand running inside. It makes me feel as though I'm flying. That's why my hair is such a mess- I leave it down because it helps the illusion." She smiled at him, and his mouth suddenly went dry at the thought of her running with her hair down.

"Do you live around here?" He asked, changing the topic.

"We live almost exactly four miles away- at Longbourn. We came here on our run, actually. That's what we were doing here." He thought a moment.

"Would you be up for another run?"

"Sure." she looked at him surprised. "I still have a lot of energy and anger to get rid of. The four miles wasn't nearly enough. I wanted to race Jane back as well, but she wanted a breather and to look around."

"Great. I wanted someone to show me some good places to run, and I haven't met anyone else. Would you meet me in about ten minutes by that tree so I have time to change?" He asked hopefully.

"Sure." She said again. "I take it you don't run in Armani." He looked down at his suit.

"Nope. It ruins the crease." For a moment she thought he was serious; then she saw the playful twinkle in his eye and laughed.

"Ten minutes. You can prove me wrong in my belief that it takes a man just as long as it takes a woman. I'll time you." He laughed too, and hurried away to the locker room.

Twelve minutes later, he emerged. She was, to his surprise, sitting on a branch about fifteen feet off the ground with a stopwatch in her hand. Without looking up, she remarked,

"I thought so. You're two minutes and twenty-five seconds late." He smiled, partly at her exaggeratedly annoyed tone and at the sight of her sitting with her legs dangling like an eight year old. Finally, she looked up. Her eyes grew wide and she gasped. Hoping he hadn't noticed, she gained control again. Oh man, was he fine. He was wearing a tight white tee shirt and loose shorts that almost reached his knees. She focused on his face. He was smiling at her- a smile that seemed to go right to her stomach and make butterflies. She grinned back impudently.

"How are you going to get down?" he asked curiously. She looked around, and realized that the hand and footholds she had used to get up were not practical for getting down. She grinned at him again, sheepishly this time, and shrugged her shoulders.

"Jump?" She suggested. He shook his head, laughing.

"Come on, I'll catch you."

"You sure? I'm no feather-weight."

"I think I can handle it."

"Yeah?"

"How much do you weigh?"

"150"

"Really? I would have guessed less. But I can still handle it."

"Ooh, big macho man rescues damsel in distress."

"More or less. Now are you coming or not?"

"Coming, sir" she replied cheekily with a salute. "Tell them I died bravely under orders." With that, she fell sideways out of the tree and right into his arms. He caught her easily, bending his knees under her weight. She placed her arms around his neck automatically. They smiled, each a little embarrassed. He was enjoying the feel of her in his arms, and she was enjoying being there. He didn't want to put her down, and she didn't want him to. However, after a little while, he did. He had just met the girl after all, and nice as it felt to hold her, he didn't want to push his luck.

Once her feet were firmly on the ground again, Elizabeth took the lead again.

"This way goes into town; Beechvale, that is. This one goes to the ruined castle. This one goes to the playground. What's your pleasure?" He thought a moment.

"Which is the quietest?" Without a second thought, she led the way towards the ruined castle. Frederic followed. It was roughly a three-mile trail, and they took it easy, running at a moderate pace. Frederic was pleased but unsurprised that she was able to keep up with him. He was generally pretty fast. He realized that Elizabeth wasn't going her fastest; she was holding back. He didn't pick up the pace. This was a relaxing run, after all. She seemed to be enjoying it. He was enchanted by the way her hair caressed her shoulders one moment and flew behind her like a banner the next. He wanted to run his fingers through it. Her face glowed with happiness and her eyes gleamed with an exultation that was almost foreign to him. But not completely. He felt it himself sometimes while flying. Flying was his passion. It was another thing that drew him to her. The knowledge that they shared so many dreams and desires amazed him, and left him a bit overwhelmed. He kept casting surreptitious glances at her- so many that he completely missed the scenery. Finally, she stopped, and gestured.

"There it is. Breathtaking, isn't it."

Chapter 4

"It belongs in Tennyson or Byron. One of those romantic, tragic poems about lost life. It's incredible." He walked around it, Elizabeth following. "Do you know who built it?"

"Yes. It was built by King Arthur."

He stopped and looked at her unbelievingly. "He didn't exist."

Elizabeth's eyes began to flash, and she put her hands on her hips. "This castle is proof that he did. Come and look at this." She beckoned him closer to one stone. It said, 'Arthur 376 AD' (Many people argue that Arthur did or did not exist. Personally, I want him to, so he does in this story. No one seems to have a clear idea of when he might have ruled, so I estimated.)

Frederic put his own hands on his hips. "That isn't proof. It could be any Arthur, and besides. Why is that inscription still there? It should have been washed away by now."

Elizabeth began shooting daggers out of her eyes. "Listen, Freddie, you can believe whatever the hell you want to believe. However, there is no proof to the contrary, and I want it to be Arthur. I'm not writing a guidebook, and you can think what you bloody well want to think. But don't treat me like an eleven year old who has no clue. I'm majoring in English and minoring in European History. So don't give me crap." Even though she had now gotten him mad, he admired her eyes and her spirit for giving him what-for. However, she had taken his top off, and he was going to blow.

"For your information, Beth, I majored in History and minored in business. I am also out of university, while you are, what? Fourth year? I thought so. Arthur may not be proven to be a myth, but it is bloody well impossible for him to have built this castle. For one, it is a twelfth century design. He wasn't around in the 1100's. Also, it is in the wrong part of the country. And another, that stone is a fake. It was carved fairly recently- the marks are still sharp. So don't you give me crap. I meant no disrespect and you damn well know it. So stop getting pissed off over something that you don't actually know anything about." She had been looking at him with slowly diminishing anger as he went on, and as he finished, she burst out laughing.

"I'm sorry Freddie, you looked so funny getting mad at me. You're right; but I still want it to be Arthur. Ever since I was little it really bothered me that Guenivere and Lancelot had to go and screw it all up. Though it was partly his fault about Mordred. But still; I always wanted to live then. I wanted to be Maid Marian, too," she added as an afterthought. By this time, Frederic was no longer mad.

"Why are you still calling me Freddie?" he asked, curious. His mother had called him Freddie.

"Because I like it better than Frederic, Fred, or Rick. It's a cute name, and I think it suits you. So that's what I'm going to call you. Unless you mind?" She asked, a little anxiously.

"No, not at all. My mother was the only one who ever called me Freddie. But I get to call you Beth. Deal?" She thought a moment.

"I could get used to Beth. Deal." They shook on it. Suddenly, a rumble of thunder and the sudden absence of light called their attention to the rapidly arriving storm. Beth and Frederic stared at it and then at each other, bursting out laughing. Beth looked down at her white shirt with a grimace. "This could get ugly. Come on!" To Freddie's surprise, they didn't go back the way they'd come. They wove their way in and out of trees, Frederic following Beth's lead. She seemed to know where she was going. He felt as though he was dodging raindrops. They were totally soaked by the time they stopped in front of a bunch of bushes.

"It's not safe to go to the tree house or hide under a tree because of lightning. So we're going to spend the time in here." She pushed through the bushes, which, again to Freddie's surprise, hid a small cabin. A very small cabin. "We built this when I was a tJaneyger," Elizabeth explained. "We keep some necessaries in here." She unlocked the door with a key hung around her neck. "I come here to be alone sometimes. There's some food, a camp stove, blankets, and a mattress. It's big enough for both of us." While she was talking, she strung up a rope from two beams and hung the blankets on it, airing them out. She glanced back at him, and said, "The stove's over there. Could you start it up? To Freddie's surprise, there were cabinets along one side that held a number of pots, as well as cans of soup, bowls, glasses, some milk in the containers that allow you to keep it on a shelf for some time, cereal, boxed stuff. There was also a stove in one corner with a can of gasoline. He was surprised, and when he had gotten the stove started and was heating some soup in one of the pans, he asked Elizabeth about it.

"Sometimes I come here to be alone. I stay the night sometimes. Hence the blankets and food, etc. I was here a few days ago." She had left one of the blankets up, and went behind it to take her wet clothes off. She wrapped a blanket around herself and pinned her clothes to the rope to dry them. "There's a blanket, you can take your things off and hang them to dry." He nodded, and did so. They ate their soup shivering slightly. The storm showed no signs of letting up. Elizabeth suddenly clapped a hand to her head, rose, and rummaged around in the cupboard for something. She came back with one of those long-range walkie-talkies. She pressed the talk button and spoke into it.

"Dad? It's Lizzy. I got stuck at the cabin. Can you call Fernham and tell Charles Bingley that his friend Frederic is here too? Thanks. We'll be back in the morning. Oh, and Daddy? Don't tell Mom he's here. I love you too. Bye!" Frederic listened to this conversation. He understood the bit about her Mother. They finished the soup, and Elizabeth made them hot chocolate with the milk. When they had finished and she had washed up, she suggested they go to sleep.

"Our clothes are still wet, but the blankets are fine. I don't mind if you don't." Frederic replied that no, of course he didn't mind. She nodded, as though this was only to be expected, and made up the bed. She was only wearing a bra and underwear, and he had boxer shorts only. They averted their eyes and climbed in between the sheets. Elizabeth blew out the candles.

"Good night."

"Good night."

Chapter 5

"Sorry, I didn't think. I heard your teeth..." But after that first initial reaction, she put her arms around him and fell asleep. It was much warmer this way. Frederic, however, took a little longer. There was too much of her skin touching too much of his skin for him to be comfortable.

"Get a grip, Freddie. You just met the girl today. You're both cold, and this is the reasonable thing to do. You don't like her, and she doesn't like you. Not that way." But it was no use. He did like her 'that way.' And it made things extremely difficult. Eventually, Frederic fell asleep.

The next morning, Elizabeth awoke with the sun, and was quite surprised to find herself in a man's arms. She had never found herself in a similar situation before, and was unsure of how to deal with it. However, she wasn't awake enough to care, so she snuggled her face into his shoulder and went back to sleep.

Frederic woke up next, and was surprised to find a woman in his arms. He also had never found himself in a similar situation, and was also unsure of how to deal with it. However, as he looked at the woman's face, he found himself wishing that he could wake up every morning with Elizabeth Bennet in his arms. It was a very pleasant feeling. She felt like she belonged there. Obviously, she felt so too, because when he moved, she held him tighter and murmured in her sleep. So, Frederic, quite content, went back to sleep also.

Chapter II

Elizabeth awoke again. There was something odd going on. Someone was holding her. She looked up and saw it was her Frederic. HER FREDDIE? WHEN DID HE BECOME HER FREDDIE? She needed to think about this. She knew they hadn't done anything, and she knew that he had held her because her teeth were chattering. And despite the fact that it felt very nice and she wanted to wake up every morning like this, she had just met the man the day before. She hardly knew him at all. What was she supposed to do? She rose slightly in his arms, and studied his face. It was a very nice face. The dark curls that fell over his brow made him look almost boyish. He wasn't very much older than she was, probably 25 or 26. His skin was nicely tanned, and he had long eyelashes. She loved men with long eyelashes. Good nose, two eyebrows instead of the common one, beautiful lips that now were curved into a slight smile that brought out the dimples. The dimples were her downfall. They were the last straw. She was gone- she no longer belonged at all to herself. How disappointing, she thought, that the man I should fall in love with isn't in love with me. "God, you said that if we keep our eyes on you, you will bring us our life partner. Is this he? I hope so, Lord, but if he isn't, it was bad management skills to have us wake up like this through no fault of our own." At the sound of her murmurs, Frederic opened his eyes. The sight that met them was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. Elizabeth was leaning over him, still clasped in his arms, looking upward, praying, as her hair fell all around her and on his face and neck. The sight of her talking to their God transfixed him. He decided to join her. He had heard vaguely, her ask about him. She wanted to know if he was The One. It hit him suddenly. Was he? Was she The One for him? He thought so, but better chill.

"Lord, is she the one? Tell me, God. Please. I'm in love with her, you know. You don't do anything without a purpose, and that storm was not forecasted. I checked. Lord, you say you'll bring our spouse to us if we keep our eyes on you. Please, tell me." They got their answer at the same time, and turned to look in each other's eyes. What they saw there reflected their own answer, their hopes and desires, their love for one another. And there, in a little cabin in the middle of the woods near a castle that was not built by King Arthur, they laughed and laughed and laughed.

They ran back to Fernham once their clothes were dry, and found Jane and Charlie there. Jane had a dreamy look in her eyes, and Charlie smiled more than ever. His eyes were bright with joy. They saw Elizabeth and Frederic, and raised their eyebrows at each other as if to say, 'Told you so.' Beth and Freddie, as they called one another, were holding hands as the jogged towards the other couple. To their surprise, Jane and Charlie were holding hands, too. They all laughed some more, and told as much of their respective stories as they cared to share. Charlie and Frederic would drive the girls home and meet the family and announce their engagements. They decided that they would wait for six months, which would give them time to plan the wedding (the girls insisted that it be a double) and get to know each other's other interests as well.

Mrs. Bennet was ecstatic, as they knew she would be. The men got away to talk to Mr. Bennet before she got started on their annual income, which was lucky. The girls were less so, but they were used to their mother being silly, and bore it with as much good grace as they could muster. As it turned out, that was quite a lot, because they had been praying for patience and mercy and grace with their mother ever since they were small. They got most of the wedding planned during the hour and a half that the men were closeted together, which was lucky again, because they didn't have much time afterwards. The men drove the girls into town so Charlie and Jane could pick out a suitable engagement ring. Frederic and Elizabeth came along for the ride only, because Frederic was giving Elizabeth the engagement ring that had been in his family for centuries. It was engraved on the inside, simply with 'Vous et Nul Autre' which is old French for 'You and No Other', and was set with tiny rubies along the outside. Elizabeth thought it was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. Frederic thought so, too, but only after it was on her finger.

Later that night, Elizabeth was lying in bed thinking about the day's events. She loved Freddie. He was The One, but she didn't know him that well. She resolved to ask Freddie to tell her everything the next day. Her mind made up, she turned over and went to sleep.

At Fernham House, Frederic was also lying in bed. He was amazed at the rapidity of it all. It almost overwhelmed him. He didn't know much about Beth; he knew a little about how her mind worked but not enough to base anything on. He didn't know who her favorite author was, or what her favorite movie was, or if she was allergic to hazelnuts. Resolving to ask her these important questions the next day, he rolled over and went to sleep.

Chapter 6

"I..." They laughed and beckoned.

"Ladies first."

"Age before beauty."

"All right." Frederic began. "I was thinking last night that I don't really know too much about you." He broke off, unnerved by her incredulous stare.

"You were." She said in disbelief.

"Ummmm yeah."

"I was, too. Well, shoot." She smiled and he breathed again.

"So anyway, I was wondering if you would tell me about yourself. "He stopped and looked at her expectantly. She thought, folded her hands, and cleared her throat.

"My name is Elizabeth Ariel Bennet. My birthday is November 11th, and I will be 22. I attend Oxford University, at Shrewsbury College. I am majoring in English, and minoring in European History. I want to be a writer, but I also want to be a high school English teacher, because I want to teach other people to love reading like I do. I want to learn to fly, and to buy an airplane, because I love flying. I seriously considered joining the Air Force as a means of reaching that end. I am interested in architecture, too, but I don't know much about it. My favorite author is Jane Austen tied with Dorothy Sayers, but the book I've read the most in the shortest amount of time is Gone With The Wind. I read it 11 times in 7th grade. I can quote pages. I am a hopeless romantic, and as a result, romance novels are my downfall. I try to stay away from the trashy ones, but it's hard at times. I also like Georgette Heyer. Off the romance topic, I love fairy tales. I have probably read most of the fairy tales you can possibly mention, and then quite a few. I only read Hans Christian Anderson, Grimm's, etc. for a whole year. I love mythology, also, and I have read extensively Greek, Roman, North American Indian, Norse, etc. I like learning about wars, and I know some about many, and much about some. I find that wars are one of the best times to study people. It brings out both the best and the worst in human nature. I write stories, but sometimes they have a tendency to get racy, so I have to be careful. I wrote one in high school that my friends will never let me live down. My favorite color is crimson, followed by deep green and light gold. When I have my own house, I want a library with sliding library ladders and a big fireplace and high-backed red leather chairs. My favorite actress is Audrey Hepburn, though I love Lauren Bacall in some of her movies. My favorite actor is Clark Gable. He never fails to have charm. My favorite movies are the 1995 A&E Pride and Prejudice, Four Weddings and a Funeral, the old and the new Guys and Dolls, and I love Monty Python. I like the TV shows better than the movies, and my father and I quote them back and forth. We also quote Douglas Adams, from The Hitchhikers Guide To The Galaxy. I love old, sappy movies on occasion, but I also like adventure movies. I like animals, in particular cats, but I like big dogs too, as long as they are well behaved and like me, too. One thing I have always planned on doing is living in every country for a year. Well, almost every country. Well, every European country. Almost. I mean like France, Italy, Germany, Austria, Switzerland, places like that." She paused for breath.

"Russia?" He interjected with an innocent smile. She glanced at him suspiciously, but replied,

"Yes, but not for a whole year. Maybe a month or two. I couldn't survive on borscht!" Her eyes were glowing as she described her dreams and plans; she was talking with her hands, waving them about to emphasize her words. Frederic was completely enchanted. She continued,

"I want to be a real writer. Like a published writer. If I was desperate, I could probably turn out romance novels, but I have a sneaking suspicion that doing so would destroy my possibilities for writing anything worthwhile. I want to write literature that just happens to have romance in them. Everyone will love my books because they will turn out happily-ever-after!" She beamed at him. "My favorite flowers are roses (crimson ones in particular!) Forget-me-nots, lilies-of-the-valley, and- oh, I don't remember them all. I'll let you know when I remember. I love trees, especially really big, grand oaks and beeches. I always wanted an avenue, but we don't have the right house for them. You need a beautiful house to go with a beautiful avenue. Anyway, they just grab me. One day, I was walking to school, and there's one near here that was on my way. I just stood there and looked at that avenue for about 15 minutes. I was late to school," She laughed, "But on my way home I did exactly the same thing. It was one of those beautiful end-of-September-beginning-of-October days when the sun is shining through the leaves just right and they are starting to change color...." She broke off. "Sorry, I'm off track. I love the rain, in particular thunderstorms. I like to walk and run in it. Once," Here she blushed and looked down. "Really late at night when the street lights weren't working, my best friend and I went out in our back yard in our bra's and underwear and danced in it. We couldn't see a thing, and we couldn't stop giggling. I love the ocean, especially during storms or just before them. I adore rough weather- watching it, anyway. It's more exciting and gives me a feeling of being wild. It's so much fun. Anyway, that's all I can think of off the top of my head," Here she smiled mischievously, "But when I remember more I'll be sure to tell you." She finished, and refolded her hands in her lap. Her face was straight and serious, but when he looked into her eyes, which were brimming with laughter. He grinned. It was something he'd been doing a lot lately. He was enjoying it very much. He thought for a moment, trying to come up with something important that she might have wished.

"How do you feel about children?" he looked at her anxiously. She looked at him and laughed.

"You look worried. Well, I'm not set on this, mind, but no more than eight and no less than four. Is that OK?" It was her turn to look anxious. Freddie's relief was enormous.

"Yes, yes, that's fine." He contrasted his calm statement with the look of glee that was spreading quickly from forehead to chin. "When do you want to start?"

"I thought that I'd wait a year or two, mainly so that my husband and I could have time to get used to being married before we had another person to look after. What do you think?"

"I agree. I always thought that it didn't matter much, because supporting a wife and child has never been a worry, but I think it's wise to wait a little. Now I think it's my turn to tell you about myself." He paused to draw a deep breath. "Please don't be angry right away, but listen to all of it. I didn't tell you the whole truth." She looked surprised, and then worried, but she didn't say anything. Frederic began, "My name is Frederic Fitzwilliam Featherstonehaugh Darcy. It is spelt F-e-a-t-h-e-r-s-t-o-n-e-h-a-u-g-h." He paused and looked at Lizzy nervously. She made the connection, as he knew she would. Her eyes grew wide as she looked at him. He was expecting surprise, perhaps pleasure, but he was unprepared for the raw pain and disappointment in her eyes. He waited for her to speak, but she didn't. "Yes. That Darcy. I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier. I had heard your opinion of rich people, and I knew that you wouldn't suck up to me because I was rich. Or for that matter," he said, thinking about it, "I don't think you'd suck up to anyone for anything." She nodded in acknowledgment of the compliment. "I prefer to use my mother's maiden name of Featherstonehaugh when meeting people who don't know me personally. It keeps me from being chased. It probably sounds like I'm a conceited ass, and while I'm not denying it; personally I think I have good enough reason to be so. Ever since Junior High, I have been chased for my money. My looks didn't hurt, but my whole experience of women is that they are gold-diggers. I was open to you and Jane, because I overheard your conversation on the subject and realized that I could talk to you without being fawned over. It was a wonderful feeling- very freeing. But your mother- she is a gold digger. Oh, not for herself, for you, which does improve somewhat, but you have to admit- people will always be taking me for a fool because I married into a family where it is so obvious in at least one member that money is the most important thing." He stopped to gather his thoughts. He was intending to continue, but Lizzy stopped him.

"How dare you. You know why I'm marrying you; it is the same reason that you are marrying me. How dare you. Where the hell do you get off? Who do you think you are? I may be in love with you Frederic Featherstonehaugh Darcy, but that sure as hell doesn't give you a right to insult my family and me. Get out. I don't want to see you again." Frederic stared at her. This was an Beth he had never seen before. She wasn't livid or yelling. She was calm and her voice had the clenched, silky sound of ultimate rage. He sat for a minute, and then rose to walk out. At the door, he remembered something.

"Keep the ring." He left, the door closing just before the ring hit it with a crash. A small crash, admittedly, but a crash. Beth threw herself back in her chair and began to sob. She stopped after a moment though, because she had determined that that was not how she was going to handle this. She lay back in the chair and thought. She must have mistaken God's answer to her question. It was obvious that either the answer was 'No' or 'Yes, but not now'.

Calmly, very calmly, she walked through the house to her father's library.

"Daddy?"

"Yes, Liz?"

"I was thinking. I think I'd like to do a semester in the U.S. Would that be OK?" Her father looked at her, somewhat surprised.

"That would be fine. But what about Frederic?"

"We aren't getting married, Daddy. He insulted us all and I'm convinced that I misheard God when we asked. I'm pretty sure He said 'Yes" but I think I missed another important part. I think He said 'Yes but not now.' So we're not getting married." Her father opened his mouth to say something, but one look from Elizabeth silenced him. "I'd like to leave soon; the second semester starts in three months." Her father nodded. "Oh, and Daddy?" He looked up. "Pray for me, 'kay?" She hurried out the door, and her father could hear her quick footsteps hurrying up the stairs and over his head to her room. He got on his knees.

"Lord..."

Chapter 7

The night before Lizzy left, Jane sat on her bed and they talked. One of Jane's first questions was,

"Does Fred know?" Liz shrugged, not meeting her eyes.

"I don't know. I didn't tell him, if that's what you're asking. He won't care."

"Won't care?! Elizabeth Ariel Bennet, he's in love with you." Liz sat up, her eyes blazing.

"Yeah? So why the hell did he think it his duty to insult our family, me, and think nothing of it? You think that's the kind of love I'm interested in? I obviously made a big mistake not praying about it more. If the answer is still 'Yes', it is 'Yes but not now.' Janey, I've told you all this already. Freddie has to grow up before he'll be ready for anything." Elizabeth drew her knees up to her chest and rested her head on them. Jane looked at her sister, assessing her mental state. Deciding that Elizabeth wasn't feeling homicidal, she asked,

"Do you love him?" Elizabeth threw a pillow across the room, and flopped on her back onto her bed.

"I don't know, Janey. I don't know."

After a minute spent in silence, Jane kissed her 'baby' sister on the forehead and left the room quietly. Elizabeth put her hand over her eyes.

"Lord, what is going on? Am I supposed to be in love with him? I mean, that is hardly the kind of behavior he should be exhibiting, right? I don't think I flew off the handle." She groaned and rolled over. "Yeah right. Who am I kidding? You're an idiot, Elizabeth Ariel Bennet. A real piece of work. He shouldn't have said that, but he was right. Was that it? Did I want flattery? It's not as though I haven't thought the same things myself. But coming from him- Oh, Lord! I really have made a mess of it, haven't I. Help me, please... I really need it."

The next day, Elizabeth had her bags packed in the family car by 9:00. Jane and her father were taking her to the airport. She was flying to LaGuardia, and then taking the train from Grand Central to the Columbia Station. Her new roommate, who Elizabeth knew by email, would pick her up and drive her the rest of the way to their apartment. Elizabeth's present from her father was a first class ticket- they were usually much more expensive, but it had been canceled just before the flight, so he got it for very cheap. What Jane and Mr. Bennet were keeping from Elizabeth was the fact that not only were there no seats left on the plane, but that Frederic Featherstonehaugh Darcy was going to be sitting be sitting next to her. That she would be angry, they had no doubt, but she would have no way of getting out of it. If this strategy didn't work, there was always Charlie and Jane's wedding, at which Lizzy was Maid of Honor and Frederic was Best Man. They wouldn't be able to avoid each other even after that; Jane and Charlie agreed that God intended those two together, and they were going to help that along. They had discussed things like family dinners at which they both happened to be invited, them both being coerced into baby-sitting, things like that. Elizabeth and Frederic should have no worries; their friends were looking out for them. This, however, was what the said parties were afraid of.

What of Frederic during this trying time? He eventually returned to London to clear up any business that might need his attention, and then retired to Darkwater, one of his country estates.

Upon leaving Longbourn, he had been in shock, but returning to Fernham house, he thought over what had occurred.

"IDIOT!! WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?? WHY WOULD YOU SAY SOMETHING LIKE THAT TO HER?! YOU LOVE HER! THAT IS EXACTLY WHAT YOU HATE ABOUT CAROLINE BINGLEY! WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?! YOU WERE DOING SO WELL!! YOUR PRIDE WAS AT A LOW POINT, AND YOU HAVE TO GO SCREW IT ALL UP!!" There was more, but it was all along those lines. You can imagine his chagrin. He completely understood her anger. That anger had in fact, terrified him. He had never seen anyone that angry. He changed at Fernham and went for a run to let off steam. He ran what was roughly a ten-mile loop, able to run faster and longer as a result of his frustration. When he got back to the house, Charlie was waiting for him. By the look on his face, Frederic knew that Charlie had heard everything. By the same look, he knew that Charlie had heard the unexpurgated version of the story. He passed by and went to shower. He was exhausted, and fell asleep without eating dinner. Frederic woke the next morning to the realization that she had meant what she had said about never seeing him again.

"What about our answers?" he thought. "Is she going to go against God? Or maybe we misunderstood. Maybe the answer was "No" and we just didn't want to hear it. But it was 'Yes'!" He sank his head in his hands and. "I really screwed up, didn't I. What on earth possessed me to say something like that to her? I'm surprised she didn't slap me. I would have slapped me. Wow, Frederic. You're a really smart guy. Sensitive, sympathetic, the whole bit."

Elizabeth might have felt better if she had known how badly he felt, but she didn't know. Charlie knew, and it is likely that Jane heard from that source. Frederic knew Elizabeth was planning on going to Columbia. He didn't know when, or what flight, but at the end of January, Frederic received a call from the head of his company's New York branch. The man had a problem. He needed to go in for surgery to get two arteries cleaned so as to avoid heart failure. Mr. Sparrow couldn't find someone couldn't find someone to take over his branch until he was able to return. Frederic groaned internally, and said he'd be over soon. He packed his bags, kissed his sister, and was off to the airport. His sister Georgiana smiled quietly to herself. She had booked his flight herself, not forgetting to inform Charlie of this important development. It was that on January 25, both Frederic Featherstonehaugh Darcy and Elizabeth Ariel Bennet made their respective ways to the airport. Luckily, Frederic boarded early, while her father and Jane, who were full of wishes of good luck and orders to call when she got to LaGuardia and to call when she reached the university, held Elizabeth back. There was some confusion in first class; a man had the wrong seat. Frederic had the window seat, and was staring out of it determinedly.

Elizabeth saw this man's back, and thought it looked familiar. It wasn't...no, it couldn't be. Not sitting next to her. That was too bizarre a coincidence. Things like that just didn't happen. She busied herself stowing her purse under the seat and putting her carry-on in the overhead compartment before sitting down. Frederic saw the woman's reflection in the window. He froze. This wasn't happening. Was he getting a second chance? He wouldn't push it. He stared out the window until the plane took off. As it lifted off the runway, he heard her quick intake of breath and saw her knuckles whiten as she clutched the armrest.

"I shouldn't leave," she muttered. He turned and looked at her.

"Beth?" She stared at him.

"Omigosh. What...How...That's..." She stopped babbling. He was looking at her with such pain in his eyes that her own filled with tears. That was the end of it. The tears spilled out and ran down her cheeks.

"Oh, darling, don't cry. I can switch with someone..." She was sobbing softly now, her shoulders shaking. A little hesitantly, he put his arms around her. "Lizzy, don't cry. Don't." He was rather surprised that she didn't push him away, but he didn't dwell on it. Finally, she sat up and wiped her eyes. Unfortunately, Elizabeth was one of those people whose face gets red when they cry. She groped for her purse, and extracted a packet of tissues. She fumbled opening it, and Frederic took it from her gently extracted two. He handed them to her one at a time, and she mopped up her face, blew her nose, turned to him, and laughed. Freddie's expression was that of a man who has no clue what to do.

"What?" He asked, fascinated. He loved her laugh and hadn't heard it for months.

"You look so funny. Clueless, almost." He laughed too, ruefully.

"Well, it wouldn't be far off. I don't like it when people I love cry. Georgiana doesn't do it much, so when she does, it upsets me all the more. I've never seen you cry before, so I'm even more clueless. Some people don't like to be touched..." He stopped, and smiled. "Off subject." She was staring at him.

"Did you mean that?"

"What?"

"About people you love?"

"With all my heart." She laughed softly at his use of the cliché. "Beth? I'm so sorry for what I said. I couldn't believe that I actually did. I hate people who say things like that. Caroline Bingley, Charlie's sister, is always saying things like that."

"Oh, yeah, Jane told me something about her. Hasn't she been chasing you for years?"

"Yeah. Or rather, my money and position."

"I can see how you got conceited."

"What?"

"You're used to women chasing you because of your looks and money, aren't you?"

"Well, yes."

"Well then. I rest my case."

"Oh, do you? I seriously doubt that."

"You're probably right. OK, I rest it for now."

"I'll buy that," he teased. She punched him lightly. "Abuse!" he said. She shot him a 'look' that clearly read, 'Don't joke like that.' He grinned. She saw it, and he could tell she was having trouble pretending she was still angry. He grinned again, and this time she cracked. She grinned too.

"Men," she muttered at him with a sly look.

"Women." he countered.

"MCP"

"What?"

"MCP."

"Yeah, I got that. What does it mean?"

"You really want to know?"

"I do."

"Male Chauvinist Pig. That's one word."

"Uh huh. Did you know that Female Chatterbox is one word?"

"Oh yeah? Well you..." She was getting a little annoyed, and recognizing the signs that she was going to blow, he silenced her by the most effective means at hand. No, he didn't kiss her. Not yet. He stuffed her scarf in her mouth and while she spluttered and glared, he laughed.

"I'm sorry. You were going to say something you were going to regret." He explained sheepishly. She was still looking at him, but her face had a thoughtful expression, and her eyes were glinting with mischief. 'Oh dear,' Frederic thought, 'What have I got myself into this time?' The last time he had seen that look in her eyes was after he had put a 'Kiss Me' sign on her back. She had short-sheeted his bed, and had put water balloons under his mattress pad.

Needless to say, he had lost that battle.

When they were still together, they had continued the war. Frederic was very pleased that she was contemplating seeing him soon enough to play a trick on him. And he was in for it.

Elizabeth was watching Frederic, and she saw a spark of recollection in his eyes. He knew what was going to happen. She thought carefully, tapping her chin with her forefinger. Frederic was watching her now. He could tell she had hit on something good when her eyes lit up. She smiled at him, and he grinned. He was going to enjoy this.

Chapter 8

They got off the airplane friends again, though secretly they both hoped for more than that. Frederic turned to Beth.

"Do you have any extra time before you have to be on campus?" He asked.

"I have four weeks before my classes start." Frederic thought for a moment.

"Is anyone expecting you?"

"My new roommate is picking me up from the train station."

"Do you have a ticket already?"

"No."

"Then how does she know when to pick you up?"

"I was going to call her when I found out the time the train was expected."

"Beth, would you like to stay here with me for a while? I have an apartment, so you wouldn't have to stay in a hotel or anything. You could have my sister's room." He looked at her hopefully. Elizabeth thought for a moment.

"Do you know your way around New York?" she asked, calculating.

"Yes, I lived here for two years with Charlie. Any particular reason that you ask?"

"Yes, of course there is. If I stay, I want to see New York. OK, thanks, I will. How long do you want me for?"

"Forever," he said to himself. Or so he thought. She heard, and blushed slightly. He continued, "How long do you want to stay?"

"Forever." This was said under her breath, but he heard it. She finished, "No longer than two weeks. I need some time to get my room ready, and be able to find my way around the campus." Frederic nodded, trying to be nonchalant. His efforts were in vain, and his grin broke forth, showing how delighted he was with her acceptance. They walked very companionably to the luggage claim.

When they got to Freddie's apartment, Elizabeth looked around in awe. It was the most beautiful room she had ever seen. The walls were a dark wood with a dull gold, red, and green carpet in muted tones. The glass of the skylights was a yellow-gold which softened the light as it came in.

"It's beautiful," she whispered. Frederic was very pleased with her approval. It was very important to him that she approve. He put a hand on her back.

"Let's put out bags in the rooms. Then I'll give you a tour." She nodded dumbly. With his hand still on her back, he guided her up the short flight of stairs and into Georgiana's room. It was very pretty. The walls were a pale yellow, and the curtains were a butter color, and pink flowers with light green stems were scattered here and there. It was a cheery room, one that made her smile involuntarily as she looked around. She turned back to Frederic.

"I think I like your sister." Frederic smiled at her phrasing.

"Good. I'm sure she'll like you, too. Come on, I'll show you around." She nodded, and went to follow him out of the room. Suddenly, she clapped a hand to her forehead, a gesture he recognized as one she used when she remembered something important she had forgotten.

"I need to call my roommate and tell her I'm not coming for a while. Do you have a phone?"

"Of course," he replied, not making a move. He watched her carefully, wondering if she would pick up on his teasing. She looked at him impatiently, then noticed the teasing glint in his eyes. In her eyes, the impatience dissolved into laughter.

"OK, Mr. Wise-Guy, lead into it." The nearest one was in his bedroom. He led her there, and left as he made the call.

When she was done, she bounded down the stairs looking for him. Frederic was in what looked like a small office. She could see him from outside the door. He was talking on the phone. He hung up, and then saw her. He beckoned her inside.

"Come on in. The tour can start here." She looked around curiously as she entered the room. What she couldn't see from the doorway was that there were wall-to-wall bookshelves packed full of books- and there were sliding library ladders. Elizabeth looked around, enchanted. Books were a great love of hers. She noticed, as she walked, that not only was there a great selection, but that they were arranged by size and type, and then by author in chronological order. She smiled as she ran her fingers over Grimm's Fairy Tales.

"You like fairy tales," she laughed. He nodded, smiling almost sheepishly, and answered,

"My mother always used to read them to me when I was little. When I got older, I read them myself. I always thought that life should be like that. I mean, the poor, lovely, kind, deserving, beautiful poor girl gets the prince who is looking for a lovely, kind girl. Otherwise, the princess gets the prince, the wicked stepmother dies a horrible death, and everyone else lives happily ever after."

"I know what you mean. Grimm's is one of my favorites."

"I know. You told me." Elizabeth turned to look at Frederic. He was sitting in the desk chair, leaning back with his feet on the desk. He was watching her with a strange expression that she couldn't describe; but it made her blush slightly. "Oh, I forgot to ask." He slid his feet off the desk and stood up. "Will you be hungry at about seven o'clock?" Elizabeth thought.

"Yes."

"Good. Do you want a shower?"

"Yeah, that'd be great."

"The bathroom is off my bedroom. I'll wait 'til you're done for mine; that way you'll have more time to get ready. We're going out." She nodded, and grinned impertinently at him. "Minx!" he exclaimed delightedly.

"Have you been reading Georgette Heyer?" she asked suspiciously. "The men are always making comments like that." He stared at her as though he wasn't quite sure she was really asking. She smiled and left the room. Frederic was left staring at the empty doorway. He shook his head and went to find a suit.

Chapter 9

"Oh no," she groaned. "What do I have that looks like that?" Frederic walked in at this point and did a double take at the sight of her in his robe. She blushed slightly, and shrugged. "I should have asked, but I was stuck." He waved away her apology.

"I don't mind, just give it back." She exited the room, only to return a moment later to ask,

"How fancy is this place?" Frederic thought.

"Semi-formal. So, a dress or skirt that is reasonably fancy." She nodded her thanks and left again.

When Frederic knocked on her door an hour later, she called

"Come in." Elizabeth was sitting at the dressing table putting up her hair, which didn't seem to be cooperating. As he watched, fascinated, she gave up and brushed her hair vigorously for two minutes, and pulled what was in her face back on each side with combs. She put on some light gold, slightly shimmer-ey eye-shadow and mascara, swept a stick of Chapstick over her lips, grabbed her purse, and was ready to go. He stared at her as she stood. She had a knee-length deep red velvet dress with and empire-waist that made her skin glow. In the light, her hair had red highlights. Her eyes were shining with excitement. He thought he was dreaming. Elizabeth watched him for a minute, an amused glint in her eyes as she saw him gaping.

"What, did you think I look like I was just running all the time?" He shook his head slightly and looked at her face. He smiled a little, and said,

"I love the way you look when you've been running. Like you have your own private piece of heaven. No, I was just thinking that you look absolutely gorgeous, and that I'm going to have to fight people for your attention all night." At this bit of flattery, she threw back her head and laughed. He was transfixed. This was going to be a long night.

Frederic had decided to take her to the Excelsior Hotel, because it was both nearby and delicious. The restaurant was almost a really high-class nightclub. Elizabeth was excited and a bit nervous. One of her best friends from high school, Charlotte Lucas, had gone to New York to further her singing career. She didn't want to make CD's; she wanted to sing in Jazz clubs and bars- yes, she did watch too many 40's movies, but still. That's what she wanted to do. She had mentioned that the Excelsior had offered her a position as head singer. She hadn't said whether or not she had accepted, and that was several months ago. So far Elizabeth had heard nothing. Actually, Elizabeth had always had the better voice, but she knew where God wanted her. She lacked the ambition and pushiness that was necessary to get auditions and to rise high. So there was an extra butterfly in her stomach as she contemplated meeting Charlotte after almost four years. She didn't mention it to Frederic, because she was afraid that if she voiced her hope, he would be disappointed too, if Charlotte didn't show up. She wasn't sure why she thought that, but she did.

They walked into the restaurant, and Elizabeth could immediately tell that they recognized Frederic. The headwaiter himself bowed and welcomed them, showing them to a table in a prime location somewhat close to the stage. Frederic smiled and thanked him by name. The waiter went to pull out Elizabeth's chair for her, but Frederic smiled and waved his hand. The waiter bowed again and Frederic seated her himself. She felt something brush the top of her head and wondered if it was his lips. Frederic knew it was, but he didn't say anything. The waiter watched this interplay with a small smile. Elizabeth reached up and patted Freddie's cheek. He sat down opposite her, and smiled again.

"Let me see. Champagne? Yes, Pierre, the usual champagne." The waiter nodded and floated off. Really good waiters, like butlers, do not walk. They hover.

They ordered, and when their food came, Frederic beckoned for Pierre to come closer.

"What's the show tonight?"

"Our head singer is singing with the orchestra. She's a big hit. A Miss Charlotte Lucas."

Frederic heard Elizabeth gasp and he looked at her sharply. She seemed all right.

Frederic watched her closely. She was staring at the stage as though she was trying to make a rabbit appear or something. He noticed that she was breathing shallowly as though trying to make no noise, and that she was holding her hands clasped on the table so tightly the knuckles were white. Frederic wondered what it was about the utterance of the head singer's name had upset her so. Elizabeth felt his gaze

"Est-ce-qu'il y a une probleme?" he asked, teasing in spite of his concern. She smiled brilliantly to reassure him.

(Is there a problem?)

"Non, non. Je vais bien. Et tu?" She asked, a twinkle in her eye. Frederic laughed ruefully.

(No, no. I'm fine. And you?)

"Ca va bien, merci."

(Fine, thank you.)

She got a hold of herself, and beckoned the waiter over.

"Excuse me. Will you tell Miss Lucas that Elizabeth Bennet is here?" The man nodded and hurried off. Elizabeth noticed that Frederic was still looking at her strangely. She smiled brilliantly again, and he, reassured, smiled back. The waiter came back with a note for Elizabeth. She opened it quickly and read it as Frederic saw her face light up. It was as though someone was shining a searchlight through her eyes, and her skin seemed to glow happily. She was smiling slightly. She looked up at the waiter again. "Can you show me to her dressing room? She wants me to come see her. Would you like to see the note?" The waiter declined the last, and beckoned her to follow him. Elizabeth looked over her shoulder at Frederic with a look that clearly said, 'Sorry. I'll explain later.' He nodded his understanding, and took his sister's letter out of his pocket and began to read it. Before he got past the first paragraph, the people around him began to clap.

He looked up to see a pretty young woman pushing an obviously reluctant Elizabeth onto the stage. Frederic, wondering, sat back and put the letter away. The other woman stepped up to the microphone, still grasping Elizabeth's wrist with one hand. The woman smiled sweetly, and said,

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. I would like you to meet an old friend of mine, Elizabeth Bennet. We were best friends in high school. She always had a better voice- wait, maybe I shouldn't tell you that. Oh well. At the moment, she is getting an English degree, but I want her to sing for you first. As you might have noticed, she's a little nervous, so could you give her a hand, please?" As the audience enthusiastically replied, she grinned, winked, and said, "Thanks. Elizabeth?" She stepped back and Elizabeth walked to the microphone. She smiled weakly, and then her gaze fell on Frederic. He applauded silently so she could see, and winked at her. She grinned. Facing the audience with more confidence, her gamin grin still on her face, she said,

"I really don't know what to sing, as this plan was sprung on me rather suddenly. Are there any requests?" She looked around anxiously, hoping her plea would be answered. A few suggestions were made, but none were very well received until someone stood up and requested her favorite Cole Porter song. She grinned again, and nodded. "I would like to dedicate this to Freddie." He looked startled, and she winked mischievously. The orchestra began, and she sang.

"My story is much too sad to be told

But practically everything leaves me totally cold

The only exception I know is the case

When I'm out on a quiet spree

Fighting vainly the old ennui

And I suddenly turn and see

Your fabulous face.

I get no kick from champagne

Mere alcohol doesn't thrill me at all

So tell me why should it be true

That I get a kick out of you.

I get a kick every time I see you standing there before me

I get a kick though it's clear to me you obviously don't adore me

Some get a kick from cocaine

I'm sure that if I took even one sniff it would bore me

Terrifically too

Yet I get a kick out of you...

When she finished, there was a moment of silence. Then the restaurant erupted into a storm of clapping. People stood up and whistled and cheered. Elizabeth smiled shyly, and made her way down to her table. Frederic stood, and took her in his arms. She winked, and kissed him, wrapping her arms around his neck. He was more than happy to go along with it. What neither of them noticed was that the spotlight had followed Elizabeth, and the whole restaurant could see them kissing. When they finally became aware of the whistles and catcalls around them, they broke away. Frederic was grinning, and a heavy blush covered Elizabeth's cheeks. Charlotte ran down and grabbed Elizabeth again.

"Come on! You need to give an encore." Elizabeth dragged her heels, and objected, but Charlotte was strong and would brook no objections. So Elizabeth was hauled off to the microphone again, where she stood uncertainly for a moment until the applause died down.

"Thank you very much. I've been informed by Charlotte here that I need to sing again, so here's one that has always been a special favorite of mine. The entire room held it's breath as she began 'Amazing Grace'. When they noticed her selection, smiles broke out on almost every face, and some started applauding again. The majority hushed them, and she sang on. Frederic thought for the second time that evening that her voice was that of an angel. Apparently everyone else thought so, too, because they refused to sit down until Elizabeth had rendered another. She chose a more modern one, singing 'On My Own' from Les Miserables. No one believed it, having seen her encounter earlier, but she sang well. This time, despite of the pleas of the audience and those of Charlotte, Elizabeth stepped down and went to eat her now cold ravioli.

Chapter 10

"Do you have any tea?" He stared at her.

"We had coffee at the restaurant."

"I know. I always have tea before I go to bed. It relaxes me." Frederic shrugged, and replied,

"No. I haven't had an opportunity to go grocery shopping yet. I doubt I'll be able to go tomorrow, either, because I have a meeting with Mr. Sparrow about how to arrange this." She nodded.

"Oh! I forgot. Jane gave me a care package before I left. There must be tea in that." She hurried out of the room, returning with a can of English Breakfast. "This is very normal tea. I have some not-so normal, but we'll stick with this for now." She bustled about the kitchen, filling the kettle and putting it on the stove. "I'm going to get changed and wash my face." She left. He looked after her, still a little stunned by the speed at which she could do things. He shrugged again and followed.

They met back in the kitchen in six minutes, just before the kettle whistled. Elizabeth swished out the pot with some of the water, and then put the tea leaves in to steep. She got mugs out, putting milk into hers and lemon and one teaspoon of sugar into Freddie's, at his request. She giggled as she placed the things in the cups. Frederic looked at her enquiringly. She noticed his look, and replied,

"I was just thinking of all those old movies where the woman presides over the teapot whether it's her house or the man's house." He chuckled, having watched a few of those old movies with her, and a few others with Georgiana.

"You do it well, and with such an air!" he remarked, teasing. She laughed.

"Quite. Now, sir, drink your tea like a good boy." She raised her cup for a toast. He, a little confused, followed suit. "Bonne sante!" Elizabeth wished him. Frederic smiled sweetly, and replied.

"Good health." They drank companionably. Half way through her cup, she looked at him over the rim, an assessing look in her eyes.

"What?" He asked.

"You look so cute in those pajamas." She said. He blushed. She laughed.

"Is that really what you were thinking, or was that just to make me embarrassed enough to discontinue the conversation?" He asked curiously. She smiled again and shook her head.

"Not at all. I was thinking you looked cute in those pajamas. You're even cuter when you blush. You should do it more often. The girls would be all over you." He looked at her wryly.

"I thought we had agreed that they were anyway."

"Well, yeah, but even more so than they are now."

"In that case, for my own sanity, I hope they never see me blush." She laughed again. It occurred to him that a few months ago, he might have found that irritating. She could, and almost always did, find humor in a situation. It probably would have made him uncomfortable, because he would have been worried that she was laughing at him. Now, however, he thought it was delightful. He was starting to do it, too, and he found that he liked it a lot. It was a much pleasanter way to look at the world. "I must say you are very beautiful in those pajamas." He said. She raised one eyebrow at him.

"Really. Are you returning the compliment or do you really think so?" He pretended to think for a moment, just to make her punch him playfully. "You're still an MCP, you know. But I love you anyway." They both froze and thought about what she had just said.

"And you are more of a Female Chatterbox than ever, but I love you even more. Funny. I never would have thought that my taste ran to Female Chatterboxes." He continued, "I won't be able to show you around for a few days, because I need to figure out what to do with Mr. Sparrow's affairs. I'm sorry. We'll do stuff on the weekend. Does that sound OK?"

"Yeah, of course. I know this is a business trip. I figured I would get together with Charlotte and she could come shopping with me."

"Clothes shopping or souvenir shopping?"

"Neither." She smiled sweetly, one eyebrow raised. "Food shopping." Frederic laughed.

"Great. How much money will you need?"

"Oh, no you don't. I don't know how much dinner was last night, and from what Charlotte told me, I don't want to know. I will buy it, and I will cook, too. You do your work. I'm here for fun. There's lots of time for that." Frederic started to object, but Elizabeth cut him off by raising her hand. "Come on, Freddie. Say yes. I won't poison you." After suitable protestations that anything like that was farthest from his mind, he said,

"You're my guest. Besides, when will you do everything else?"

"Oh, we're also going to the Metropolitan Museum, the MOMA, and then I'm taking you to the Metropolitan Opera for 'The Ring'. I want to see Les Miserables, too. This cast is supposed to be wonderful." Frederic looked at her uncertainly.

"Ummm sure. But you're still not paying."

"Look, Freddie darling. You're not going to win this one. How about this: I'll pay today, you pay next time." Frederic looked at her hesitantly. "That's the best I can offer. If you say no, I'll go do it anyway." She grabbed his arm and looked up at him. "Come on, Freddie. Please? I really want to do this. Please?" He stared at her, his face impassive. After what seemed to her an eternity, he nodded and said,

"All right. But just this once. Promise?" She hesitated. Then she looked up again.

"Deal. But we may not have to go shopping again."

"Beth..." He said warningly. She grinned cheekily.

"Oh, Freddie, don't worry about it." She tapped his nose with her forefinger, then strolling over to the sink with their empty cups and the teapot and rinsed them all. She put the pot away, and left the cups by the dishwasher. She twirled over to him "I'm going to bed. Goodnight!" She hugged him. They stood like that for a moment. Elizabeth whispered, "Thanks, Freddie. I have a feeling that this trip is going to be unforgettable." He could hear the grin in her voice. He smiled in response and released her.

"Goodnight, Beth."

"Goodnight, Freddie."

Chapter 11

The next day, Frederic woke to find Elizabeth in her pajamas in the kitchen. To his surprise, there was a box of Cheerios and a small carton of milk on the counter along with two bowls and spoons. He looked at her in awe. She was making tea, and turned to look at him. The sun was shining through the window behind her and made a halo around her. He was struck dumb for a minute. Elizabeth noticed this, and smiled. She couldn't see anything spectacular about herself that would anyone, much less this gorgeous man, breathless. Yet this was not the first time. It made her feel loved--wait a minute! Where did that come from? He didn't love her. Not the way he had behaved. No.

Frederic shook his head slightly and focused on the table.

"Where did you get the food? I didn't think we had any." Elizabeth smiled again and poured Cheerios into the bowls.

"Your neighbor is very nice. I was getting the newspaper, and he was getting his. I asked him if there was a store nearby, and he said yes. I asked if he would tell me where, because we didn't have anything for breakfast. He said he would lend me a box of Cheerios and milk if he can take me to the store. He's very nice." Frederic was eating his cereal at that point, and was enjoying it, too. But when he heard that, he looked up.

"Are you?"

"Am I what?"

"Going with him."

"Yeah. Why not?"

"Well, it's New York. And you don't know him."

"Oh, don't worry. I can take care of myself." Elizabeth took a closer look at Frederic.

"You're not jealous, are you?" Frederic looked surprised.

"Am I? Hmmm, maybe that's what it is. Sorry. Does it bother you?"

"Not really, you're a more rational man than many I've met. I don't think you'd get possessive or over-protective or spy on me or anything."

"No, I wouldn't. I'm sorry. I'll try not to be jealous." He laughed, a little note of bitterness in his tone. "I don't have the right, either. No, I blew any chance of that." Elizabeth patted his shoulders comfortingly.

"We're all under construction. I'm glad and, to tell the truth, a little relieved that you don't say things like that often or purposefully and that you realize when you've done wrong and try to fix it. I respect that." She sat down across from him and began on her own cereal. "There is one character trait that God and I are working on. My problem is my temper. It flames up fairly quickly, but once I've yelled for a minute or so, I'm no longer angry. Often, I start laughing. I can't change my temper, but I can lengthen my patience, and learn to...." She searched for the right word. "Not repress, but..." She put her forefinger on her chin, a gesture Frederic remembered with affection. He thought it was adorable. "Confine and isolate my anger so I can solve it in a less...less... violent manner." Frederic smiled at her choice of words.

They ate in companionable silence for a few minutes. When Elizabeth stood up to put her bowl and spoon in the dishwasher, Frederic, who was behind her, noticed a thin spot in her hair. He touched it, and felt her stiffen.

"Beth, what happened to your hair?" He asked, a little concerned. She looked him in the eye, gauging his potential reaction. She took his hand and led him back to their seats.

"Freddie, ever since I was in 5th grade, I have had an Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, more commonly known as an OCD. Well," She amended, "Generally it is classified as OCD, but it is more like a cousin. It is stronger than a habit but not as bad as a really real full-fledged OCD like counting or washing. It is called Trichotillomania, and it means that I pull my hair out."* She paused and looked up from her nervously clasped hands to his face to see his reaction. Frederic was stunned. He had heard of OCD's before, but not this particular kind. Elizabeth continued. "Several times before I have been able to stop by using will power. I had to wear my hair up for seven months in 9th grade because I had a bald spot on the back of my head. Tenth grade was the year I started running." Her face took on a glow as she said that. "And besides from taking up all my time and making me exhausted, it relieved stress, so I didn't have to take it out on my poor hair. Ever since then, it has been improving leaps and bounds. Every now and then, I have a lot of stress and it comes back. Recently," she added, with a wry smile, "My stress level increased a whole lot. So I've started again. Oh, that reminds me. If you see me pulling, would you tell me to stop? I might get a little annoyed, but won't mean anything I say." She stopped for breath, and then asked sweetly, "Any questions?" Frederic was staring at her. After a moment, his brain had finally processed all the information he had received.

"Doesn't it hurt to pull out your hair?"

"No. To those with Trich, it feels good. Some people pull their eyelashes and eyebrows out, but generally they are the perfectionist type"

"And it doesn't go away?"

"No. It's like... like Hepatitis, almost. Once you have it, it's always in your blood, whether it's active or not. Or like alcoholism. It's something that's always with you that always needs to be dealt with. You need to be careful with it, because one hair can set you off again, just like with alcoholics all they need is one drink."

"Is it rare?"

"No, actually. It's quite common. Few men are known to have it, which might be explained by the perpetual short hair or by their determination not to tell anyone." This was said with a speaking glance towards Freddie's cropped curls. Frederic ignored this last.

"Hmmm. That's interesting. Thank you for telling me. I know that it was difficult. Thank you." He took her hands in his and watched her eyes fill with- what? Relief? And what was that? Was that- love?

Elizabeth was having a similar experience. In Freddie's eyes, she saw understanding and compassion. There was something else there. It looked familiar. Love?

Both pairs of eyes registered a new emotion- shock. They smiled tremulously at each other. Then Elizabeth rose.

"I need to shower and change. Rick will be here soon."

"Rick? They guy next door?"

"Uh huh. Rick Fitzwilliam."

"Rick Fitzwilliam?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"Because he's my cousin. My mom's sister married the Earl of Seacombe. Rick is their second son and a Colonel in the British regulars."

"Ooohhh, a red coat. I'll bet my sisters Kitty and Lydia wish they were here. They're addicted to soldiers."

"You're not?"

"Nah. Most of 'em are cute, but I'm not interested." She patted his cheek. "So don't get jealous!" With that last parting shot, she sashayed off to her room.

Continued In Next Section