A/N: This story started as a drabble in my mind that grew to over a thousand words. Austen herself was a rector's daughter. What if Lizzie and the LBD gang grew up in church too? How early would Dizzie cross paths?


The whole routine didn't start out that complicated, really. Mrs. Gardiner, in all her Sunday School teacher goodness, had been enthusing passionately over the new song from the latest VBS album.

"Who wants the new song?" She'd exclaimed, all modest in her printed floral dress despite the raised arm and all. Crop-tops weren't for teachers, apparently.

"Me!"

"Me!"

"Me!"

A sweaty Ricky Collins, a hyperactive Lydia, and a devious Caroline Bingley all declared - for duty, attention, and favor, respectively.

And, well, since everyone was doing it - she did too.

"I want the song, Mrs. Gardiner! Please learn me!" Lizzie's hand and voice shot up in perfect synchronization.

"Teach me!" Ten-year-old William Darcy growled beside her. He stared daggers at little Lizzie, frowning and scowling and being all kinds of mean.

It shut her up then. But, to her surprise - it hadn't ended there.


They were both tweens the next time that pesky thing called grammar came up. With the youth group chicken salad being a few hours more rotten than it should've been, there had been somewhat of a line outside the tiny, solitary bathroom.

"Hurry up!" Lydia screamed, and Lizzie squirmed even tighter down her currently occupied seat.

Having stomach problems at home was bad enough. At church? This was a nightmare.

"Hey! Hurry up!" Lydia banged on the door again, and Caroline's pesky soprano joined her soon.

"Ugh! I'm almost done!" Lizzie gave up at the third set of knock assaults.

"Who's in there?" William Darcy's calm and collection, even at fourteen, carried through the thin bathroom door.

"It's me, okay?" Lizzie snapped, turning and flushing. "I'll be out in a bit, geez."

"It is I," he stated simply.

"What?" she yelled back.

"It is I."

She didn't reply, too bewildered and preoccupied with washing her hands. Couldn't have the virus spreading.

"You said 'it's me.' It should be 'it is I.'"

It was unfortunate that eye rolls couldn't travel by sound.


"No, the counselors need to stay here," Bing insisted over the photocopied map on the table - thrice photocopied, it seemed. His hands stayed planted resolutely on the lodge beside the lake.

"I honestly doubt the wisdom of that," William retorted right away. He's leaning back, arms crossed, every bit a boss. Honestly, if it hadn't been for their being the only set of eligible camp officers who still had high school summer breaks, she could never see herself working with him. "You simply want the arrangement to be closer to Jane."

Gossipy gasps made their rounds across the room. Dad, being the negligent pastor that he was, didn't even lift his eyes from his latest ethics book.

"You can't imply that, Darcy," Lizzie demanded. "Bing is just being honest about what makes better sense."

"It does not make sense, however," lanky teen Darcy insisted, commanded. "It would make much more sense to place the counselors closer to the dining hall."

"Oh, whatever," Lizzie snapped, "just because you pull out your future-CEO voice doesn't mean you're right. I, for one, ain't gonna believe it."

"You are not," Darcy replied.

"Huh?"

"You are not going to believe me."

"Huh, interesting you found that out." She grinned.


Church prom had never been the most exciting thing in the world. Quite the opposite, in fact. But hey, it let everyone be included - homeschoolers, travelers, whatnots. So here they were, pastor's house turned invitation factory.

"I think Darcy will ask you," Jane declared that day, with zero prompting.

Lizzie looked up from her desk, her only piece of personal real estate in the whole house. "Just because Bing asks you doesn't mean Darcy has to ask me."

"Yes, but I think he will."

"Right." Lizzie rolled her eyes and returned to the last three envelopes.

It took another minute for Jane to speak again. "Darcy likes you, you know."

"Uh huh."

"He does!" Jane smiled. "Wouldn't it be great if the two of you got together?"

"Uhm, no?" Lizzie turned back to face her sister. "He hates me, remember?"

"Why would he?"

"I dunno - cuz I don't speak English right or something."

"English?"

"Yeap."

"Do you speak anything else with him?"

"Ha, no!" Lizzie chuckled. She rested an elbow on the desk, leaning. "Seriously, Jane, you don't need to feel bad for me because you have a date and I don't. That's the whole point of church prom, right? Everyone gets to go."

"But Darcy - "

"Don't bother, Jane." Lizzie smiled. "You can go with Bing and be disgustingly happy and let him propose right after graduation. Don't mind me. I can go with whoever I want."

At the back of her head, she could practically hear Darcy's "Whomever I want."

But hey, either way, it was true.


"Oh, but the angel must be in center stage!" Caroline rushed to the middle, right at the podium-forsaken spot. Her arms lifted dramatically in a Shakespearean pose. "See? The spotlight needs to hit us just right to let the halos shine."

"They aren't real halos, you know," Lizzie pointed out, hands on hips. "We don't have room for Jesus if we put the angels up front."

"I'm sure we do," Caroline gushed. "My parents would gladly donate the rest of the props."

"It's not about money, Caroline. It's about space! There's no room for the nativity scene if your Gabriel is up front and center."

"Well, then there's something wrong with the script then, isn't it?" Caroline blinked. Lizzie wondered why William Darcy, seated just ten feet away preparing the PowerPoint slides, wouldn't correct her.

It is 'isn't there' - right?

"Come, Lizzie, don't be such a bore. The baby Jesus isn't even real!"

"Cuz the real one's in heaven!" Lizzie's hands waved above her head. She's getting maniacally frustrated. What's with Caroline and the spotlight? Like, really, people.

"Then he wouldn't mind letting me be front and center for this year's pageant then," Caroline insisted, her hands equally on her hips. "He's not even here."

The protests that Jesus being God would be everywhere died on Lizzie's lips. She sighed, loudly. "Do you really think this works? Uhm, Darcy?"

The hipster looked up, squinting through his glasses. He was always part charm and part total nerd. "What works?"

Lizzie sighed again - even louder. "Having the angels up front. It won't work, right?"

Because, if there was anyone Caroline Bingley would listen to, it was gonna be her eternal crush William Darcy.

"Should be fine," Darcy said, to Lizzie's incredulity, and turned back to his slides.

At that very moment, Lizzie was entirely too ready to pull out all his hair.

"See? Darcy himself says so," Caroline hummed. "Should be fine, right? Miss Director."

It wasn't like Caroline was bitter about it, right?

Lizzie rolled her eyes. "Alright, fine, we'll try it out. But I'm not making no promises, okay?"

Caroline smiled, Lizzie groaned, and Darcy said, "Not making any promises."

It took a restraining Jane to keep Lizzie from his hair.


High school was a happy and easy time - too easy, sometimes. So when her own prom came and went and Lizzie was off to the local college dorming with Jane (Dad would kill to have them anywhere farther away), she found herself one year ahead in English, seated up front and center and next to no one else but him - Mr. William Why-is-he-still-here Darcy.

Sure, he claimed to want to be close to Gigi.

But who really ever knew what he was thinking?

"Now, if you can all just focus on the board here," Professor Matlock tapped behind him, suave as ever. "We will be reading Act 4, Scene 1 from Much Ado about Nothing today. William, Lizzie, please, do the honors."

And so, just like that, they're Benedick and Beatrice - reading out the first of the rom-coms. They gave it their best and were everything fiery. The insults sounded particularly fun to spout against such a worthy partner. Snickers and lovestruck sighs alternated around them, until, apparently, Caroline Bingley couldn't stand it anymore.

"Mr. Matlock!" The words were nearly shrieked. The teacher looked up. Darcy and Lizzie stopped. "What meter is this part written in?"

How Caroline could ever believe herself subtle, they'd never know.

"Shakespeare is, of course, most famous for using one particular meter, and its shadows could be found in multiple places in canon." Matlock was always impeccably composed. "Would anyone care to point out what his preferred meter happened to be?"

The class fell silent, half annoyed and half ignorant. Was the question too easy - or too hard?

Lizzie figured she'd end the silence. "Iambic pentrameter."

In front, Matlock smiled and nodded in approval.

Beside her, Darcy leaned thrillingly close by her ear. "Pentameter."

She figured it was a bit of an inside joke.


Short and Pudgy Rev. Collins had always been comical. This time, he was particularly so.

Drunk on the pride of recent marriage, he bobbed his little bald head so much that it reflected the spotlights straight into the congregation's face. His hands waved constantly, even if they barely looked that much higher above said bald head.

If not for Collins's abundance of cousins in the pastorate, her own dad among them, Lizzie seriously doubted he'd ever get to speak half as much as he did. It was pretty crazy to think that that Ricky Collins was now a pastor too.

"So!" He bopped like a kid across the stage. "We must always honor our benefactors in life. It is biblical and right."

Lizzie smirked. Surrounded by her siblings and college mates, she felt particularly impertinent today.

"In my case, I had many mentors in the Christian faith who have made me the man I am today," Collins continued. Lizzie smirked more - and heard the small chuckle beside her too. "Mr. and Mrs. de Bourgh shall always be important to me."

The congregation's silence didn't seem to bother the man one bit.

"Even after Mr. de Bourgh's passing, his wife still reached out to his mentees, myself included." The stage squeaked underneath the over-polished shoes. "In fact, Mrs. de Bourgh himself introduced me to my wife."

Lizzie leaned to her left, just inches from his shoulder. They whispered to each other in unison, "Herself."

She couldn't help the smile on her face for the rest of the service. Judging from the way Darcy's hand brushed against hers on the pew, he was in a good mood too.


Mom freaked when she heard about the date.

"You went on a date with William Darcy and never told me?" With the accent and hand gestures, she looked every bit the broad-brimmed hat girl.

"Dad knew." Lizzie shrugged. It wasn't much of a date, really. Darcy had apologized for not preparing a present for her graduation, since they'd become friends already and all that. She'd agreed to take a free meal as her gift instead.

She hadn't known she had been agreeing to the poshest place in town.

But hey, it was nice - good meal, good place, good company. She didn't even kiss him. So it didn't count as a date, right?

Right?

"When have you two even started spending any time together?" Mom went on. "The money he must've spent!"

Right - left it to Mom to think about the money.

Lizzie had often wondered, actually, how Mom ended up a pastor's wife.

"I'm sure he could afford it," Lizzie cranked up the sarcasm, "don't worry for his pockets on account of me."

"Lizzie! A date! A fancy date! You know William Darcy doesn't just date anyone."

Lizzie shrugged. That, in fact, she did know. Darcy had always kept to himself. Mrs. Gardiner had worried the guy wasn't even into girls - or anyone, for that matter. He'd only shrunken more into his shell after his parents' accident.

But that's also when they grew closer.

Gigi needed a female friend, and Darcy had so kindly asked her to be that friend. They'd hung out a lot, just the three of them. Until, somewhere, some time, along the way, Gigi had gone off to college - and they'd kept the luncheons going on anyway.

Those didn't count as dates, Lizzie assumed.

But did that graduation meal count?

"I didn't know you even friended him!" Mom exclaimed.

Lizzie smiled. "Made friends, Mom. I've - we've actually been friends for a while."


"I don't seem to understand the attraction." Darcy leaned his head to one side - her side, despite it being his couch. The HD television screen glowed brightly at them. "Why would women ever prefer to live a life with a vampire?"

"Because they're hot?" She snuggled against him, peeking up a little. It was always nice to see that little pang of jealousy on his face - that hint of possessiveness that she knew he had but never showed.

"Men are hot. I fail to see why childish boys would be."

"I don't know - " Lizzie trailed off and smiled to herself. "There's something attractive about boyish good looks."

"If there is I do not understand it." His voice rung low, reverberating through his chest. It was a chest she had come to appreciate increasingly over the past months. That swimming session last week was hot.

"Oh, come on, Will. You gotta be able to see it, right? The ruffled hair, the pretty eyes - they cast pretty gorgeous men in these things."

"Boys," he corrected with a grunt.

She smiled, biting her lip. On screen, the newest male cast member tore off his shirt.

"Ah, look at those abs," Lizzie teased, still snuggling. "I'd totally marry 'em."

Darcy immediately stiffened. She, wondering if she'd gone too far, propped herself up beside him. The luscious cushions provide little support.

"What's wrong?"

"Him," he muttered.

"Huh?"

"You said you'd totally marry them. It should be him."

"I didn't say that." She might have - especially in reference to the six-pack. But, hey, teasing him was more fun.

"Yes, you did." Darcy's frowning. It's his version of pouting. "You said you'd want to marry 'em, which is short for them."

"No, I didn't." She insisted.

"Yes, you did." His face was neither smiling nor frowning.

"Did not."

"Yes, you did."

"Why would I want to marry them?" She shrugged.

"Hence my question, Lizzie."

"Hence my confusion." She cocked her head sideways. "I mean - how is this a problem?"

"Because you obviously could not want to marry them."

"Why not? Because I want to marry you?"

The words fell out effortlessly for her. But then he's staring at her, suddenly speechless, and she started to feel like she'd said something big, something game-changing.

Then, all of sudden, he was smiling from ear to ear. "That is a good thing."

"What is?" Her voice sounded small, insignificant - but braced with potential floodgates of joy.

"I happen to particularly wish the same thing."

His eyes, at that moment, looked deeper to her than they had ever looked before. Her lips trembled, her breath shortened. Her heart railed wildly against her chest.

"Will - "

"Lizzie, I would love nothing more than to have you marry me." He said it so simply: tender yet sure.

She felt the smile spreading over her entire face. "Me too."

He leaned closer, till their foreheads are touching. "I as well."

"Hm?"

"You said 'me too.' It should be - "

She kissed him soundly, cutting him off.

"You too?" She whispered after, breathless.

"I as well." He winked.

She pulled him close for another kiss, one lasting ten times longer than the last one. His hands wrapped around her and lifted her on his lap. She slid on his thighs happily, their lips connecting repeatedly for a long, long time to come.


"Woof!" She panted, hands and legs spread generously over the chilly sheets. Well, chilly - except for the side they've been occupying.

"Yes, the exchange was - hot." He was panting too, one hand on his heaving chest and the other on her cheek. "I thought we'd last until after dinner."

"Are you kidding me?" She smiled. Her hair spread in a tangled mess on the pillow behind her, but she could care less. "Dad, Mom, and Jane watched us like hawks the entire time. I'm surprised we did last that long once unchaperoned."

He smiled against her shoulder. She remembered again that electrifying moment when his bare hands had finally roamed all over her bare body. They'd literally just gotten to their stateroom. The ship hadn't even left shore. But hey, no one can complain about them now.

"I am very happy to have shared this with you."

Her eyes misted. The thoughts between his words meant everything.

"I'm impressed that you're so good at it." She turned her face and nuzzled his nose with hers.

"I've done my - uhm, research." His voice grew lower by the second.

"Hey, it's fine." She rolled the whole body to her side. She saw his eyes trace her curves all the way down before coming back to her face. The unspoken compliment sent tingles down her spine. She kissed him tenderly. "It means so much to me. Besides," she thought to lighten things up, "it was pretty awesome."

"You mean the sex?"

"Hm, have we really done anything since getting married? Last I remembered - "

"You said it was awesome. That is an ambiguous pronoun reference. You should have specified - "

She launched herself at him - hands grabbing, lips kissing, legs straddling. Tongue and tongue locked and touched and teased at each other. Firm muscles, cool skin, and long limbs tangled into nature's most pleasurable embrace.

It's strange how much one could learn between the first and second time.

"That was awesome." It's his turn to say when they rolled apart - panting, hot, and satisfied. They were beyond late for the second seating, but who needed dinner anyway?

She smiled. "Sure was."


A/N: Thanks for reading! I hope you liked it! Please let me know your thoughts :)