Disclaimer: I salute Austen

And in case you are confused: Erin Parker, the one telling the story, is supposed to be a female version of Darcy. The rest of the characters are all gender-swaped, except of course for Aunt Catherine and Mrs. Bennett.

Chapter 1: When in France

It was a Friday night, currently just a tad before 7:00, and I was exhausted from a hectic week at school. I had nothing planned and was going to watch the History channel for a few hours before going to bed. It may sound like a pathetic way to spend a Friday night, but it suited me perfectly. I was never a party animal and was never one of those vivacious girls who lived for booze, slutty, cute tops, and men. I was much more of a homebody.

"I thought I would find you here," I heard a voice say from behind me. I jumped from the sudden noise, despite the TV's blaring volume as an advertisement for Colgate whizzed by on the large screen. The TV itself was one of my few indulgences; a huge beautiful screen with high-definition, and an amazing sound system. It was enough to impress any avid sports fan and active movie enthusiast like myself.

I turned to see who was disturbing my solitude only to find my cousin Rachel standing behind me, arms crossed, an impatient expression on her face. Rachel was two years older than me, and was more like an older sister than an older cousin, seeing as we had practically grown up together. Our mothers were extremely close and had spent a lot of time together during our childhoods.

Rachel definitely took after our mothers' side of the family. She was blonde, had the infamous Warner blue eyes, and curvy figure. I, on the other hand, took after my father's side. Dark hair, ivory skin, and a body that was slim and straight.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" I demanded, soundly refusing to feel self conscious in my rubber ducky pjs, despite the fact that Rachel was decked out to the nines with her hair sleek and shiny, and wearing her favorite red cocktail dress.

Rachel ignored the question. "Do you have any idea what day it is?" she demanded sharply, reminding me way too much of my mother.

"Of course. It's Friday... I actually had to go to school today, unlike some people I know," I said with a little smirk. It was completely true of course. Rachel didn't do anything at all. It wasn't like she needed to really - she was set to inherit millions from her father - but I had no idea what she did all day. While I was busy with analyzing Milton and Dant and writing twenty page papers, I could only imagine how Rachel filled up her time.

She scoffed. "Let me rephrase. Do you have any idea what EVENT is taking place TONIGHT?"

I gave her what I can only assume was a blank look in return. And then it hit me.

"Oh fuck." I said simply, and darted off of my cozy leather couch and down the hall, sprinting to my bedroom. I quickly began looking for something to wear, while Rachel followed in my wake.

"How much time do we have?" I demanded.

"About an hour. Jesus Erin, it's lucky I decided to stop by. Somehow I just knew you'd forget…"

"I didn't forget," I practically snapped, as I grabbed a black dress from my closet.

"Right, so you were just planning on wowing everyone with you pajamas," Rachel remarked dryly. "And you're not wearing that stingy black thing again."

"What, why? I like that. And it's perfectly appropriate."

"Yeah for a funereal. When are you going to learn that you have a cute little body? And that it's okay to show it?"

I rolled my eyes, and threw up my hands in defeat. Rachel was the only one who would ever dare to speak to me like that. I hated her and loved her for it at exactly the same time.

"Fine, pick out something for me to wear then," I cut out. Rachel just smiled, apparently used to me and my moodiness. "And I didn't forget," I continued, as she made her way to sift through my closet. "I knew it was soon. And I blame my secretary. Caitlin was supposed to remind me."

Rachel snorted. "How very Parker of you to blame others for your shortcomings."

I smirked. "I'd rather be a Parker than an Evans like you."

Rachel just turned to me, a green dress still on its hanger in her hand. "Shut up, bitch, and put this on. I won't take no for an answer."

And so, roughly an hour later, both of us arrived at the Netherfield Charity Ball, completely decked out from head to toe. The green dress was a newer one of mine that my mother had forced upon me nearly a month ago when she had taken me shopping. I had had yet to wear until that very moment, and it was extremely uncomfortable. Not only that, but I was certain that it was as unflattering as dresses came. Rachel, of course, disagreed. "You look so thin!" were her exact words. Too bad I'm positive I looked liked a flat-chested twelve year old next to my beautifully figured cousin.

The ball was held for the non-profit Netherfield Foundation which my aunt Catherine (Rachel's mother) was in charge of. Catherine Evans was severe, powerful, bossy, and very unlike her only daughter. Due to the fact that she was from old money, and had married into even older money, she was among the upper cream of New York City society. She also happened to head the most charities on the east coast, something that always struck me as ironic when considering her actual personality. Let's just say it was less than giving. I had long ago concluded that the only reason for her countless charitable works was simply because she was bored and wanted something to do to distract her from the fact that her husband was bedding a countless array of young girls that were about the same age as his very own daughter.

Even though I didn't care much for my Aunt Catherine, I knew better than to miss the event. Although I liked to think that she had little power of me, I didn't want to engage her wrath and have to put up with her scolding.

The press had a field day as usual when we arrived. Of course, most of them yelled their ridiculous questions at Rachel, having long ago learned that I never answered their outlandish inquiries. Rachel would sometimes indulge them just to create a stir, knowing that it would irritate her mother like nothing else. But again, Rachel was simply an heiress. What else did she really have to do but cause trouble and wild rumors?

Thankfully, we were ushered in quickly away from the bright lights and screaming photographers and instead into a sleek ballroom that was decorated tastefully with draped tables and polished floral center pieces. There was already a large crowd of elegantly dressed people forming and I steeled myself for all the small talk that was sure to come. People stared openly as we passed, especially the men. Rachel, either knowing me way too well, or sensing my anxiety, or hell, maybe even both, turned to me and said, "Relax. Breathe. You look like you are about to dive into a tank full of dementors."

I let out a chuckle. "Really? You are bringing HP into this?"

"Just try to have fun Erin. Is your mom coming or is she still in Italy?"

My mother, Sheridan Parker, was what one would call a trophy wife. She had married my father when she was twenty-two and ten years his junior. From what I can remember they had had a blissfully happy marriage up until he died six years when I was eighteen and my brother was thirteen. That was when all of the secrets came out by means of a little will. Of course, we had been left well provided for, thanks to my father's successful career as a corporate attorney and my mother's family's money. My mother decided to cut all responsibilities (which was basically just taking care of my thirteen year old brother - the woman never worked a day in her life) and travel the world. She was still doing that to this day.

"She's still in Italy," I sighed. Even though I was very different from my mother, I still loved her dearly. And I could even understand why she left my brother behind. The resemblance between him and my father was uncanny and I think it was painful for her to be reminded of all the lies and ignorance she had lived in for almost twenty-five years.

"Don't get all mopey. I mean I know you are really anti-social and everything, but a little human interaction won't kill you. In fact… oh shit."

I saw that Rachel's gaze was no longer trained on me, but instead focused on a small group of people consisting of one man, and three women, all of whom I had never seen before in my life.

"What?" I immediately demanded, scanning the foursome with heavy scrutiny. Two of women were dressed well, but seemed to be lacking the sort of righteousness that most wealthy people carried themselves with. I could only guess that they usually didn't attend outings like this very often. The other one looked young, with bright blonde hair, and a tight blue dress that was a bit too risqué for something like a charity ball. The man wasn't impeccable by any means, and nothing about him stood out, other than the fact that he looked very out of place in his more casual get up. He was seemingly unaffected and chatting amiably to the women around him. Why Rachel would become speechless at the sight of these people, I had absolutely no idea.

"That guy… isn't he Evan Beck?" Rachel was looking more and more interested by the minute and I had no idea why.

"Who the hell is Evan Beck?" I responded. But before Rachel could answer, I felt a pair of hands cover my eyes. I immediately froze, having no idea what to do or more importantly, who it was.

"Surprise!" Cried a voice I immediately recognized. I let out a strangled squeal upon being released only to turn to see my best friend in the entire world, Cecilia Bindley, smiling hugely at me.

"Celia! Oh my God!" I cried before hugging her. "I had no idea you were getting back from France tonight!"

Celia giggled, as she and Rachel exchanged a smile. "We wanted to surprise you."

We quit our embrace, while Rachel and I prompted her to give us the lowdown on her two week trip to France. Celia was my roommate, and attended Columbia with me, both of us being enrolled in the graduate program there. We were both aiming to earn our Ph.D's in literature and become professors. Celia, in a spontaneous mood, had taken two weeks away from school to escape to France, something she had always wanted to but never had had the guts to actually do.

"It was amazing, of course and… and, well, I met somebody."

Rachel busted out laughing and even I let a smirk cross my face. Celia would meet someone. She always met someone. Not that it was bad, per say, although there had definitely been a few dire consequences from really awful guys. It was just a part of who Celia was. She was a friendly, ridiculously outgoing redhead complete with a trust fund and charming smile. Plus, she was way too nice for her own good. I loved Celia, but I was always afraid that one day something horrible was going to happen as the result of her letting someone walk all over her.

"Was it a French man? Celia, please tell me you had hot, steamy foreign sex with some foreigner!" Rachel squealed excitedly.

"Shh!" Celia said between laughs. "He's definitely not French. He's actually American. He was there vacationing too, and well… he's it, the one."

Rachel and I exchanged glances. Oh, if only I had a penny for every time I heard that phrase come out of Cecilia Bindley's mouth... but before either of us could remind her of that very simple fact, an extremely handsome man with blonde hair and tanned skin appeared seemingly out nowhere at her side.

"Hey, sorry Celia, the bathroom line was quite long," he said before placing a peck on her cheek.

She smiled adoringly up at him, "No worries." Then she gestured to me and Rachel before saying, "Justin, these are my two best friends Rachel and Erin. Erin, Rachel, this is Justin… my fiancé.