Ok, I'm finally going to come out and admit it—I am a closet romantic, and Pride and Prejudice is one of my absolute favorite works. My copy of Austen's novel is so dog-eared that the only thing keeping the binding from falling apart is a little prayer and a whole lot of tape and I own three different versions of the movie (a black-and-white one on VHS, the A&E version, and the 2005 version).

Obsessive? Little bit, yeah. But whenever I get a case of the Mean Reds, and Breakfast at Tiffany's doesn't do the trick, I thumb through Pride and Prejudice or watch one of the films.

I still always go, "Awwwww—" at the end.

This idea's been in the back of my mind for a while now, and I've only just worked up the courage to even try and make it work on paper. I'm still a little wary of even trying this—it feels like I'm committing sacrilege, because it's not serious at all. If anything, it's probably going to wind up a parody.

Obviously, any characters you recognize belong to the great Jane Austen; I'm just borrowing them for a bit.

I welcome any questions, comments, and concerns you guys might have. Let's see how this thing goes, shall we?

Chapter 1

"Tom! Tom!" Faye Bennett's piercing cries made everyone at the breakfast table cringe. Elizabeth and her older sister Jane exchanged worried looks from across the table. Their father looked over the top of his morning paper, a pained expression crossing his face. Usually, if his wife was awake before 10am and screeching his name, it didn't bode well for him—or his checking account. "Thomas!"

"Kitchen!" He hollered back, returning his attention back to the paper. Elizabeth decided it was better to focus on her Coco Puffs and Jane went back to spreading jam on her wholegrain toast. Faye burst into the kitchen, her eyes wide in horror. Jane looked almost as horrified as her mother, but it probably had more to do with the neon pink sweatpants ensemble with the shiny silver rhinestones that adorned the jacket.

"Oh, Thomas, it's horrible!" She cried, collapsing into the chair at the end of the table. "Simply horrible!"

"Your sister couldn't work you in this morning to do your hair?" He asked dryly. Faye's well-manicured nails flew to her long blonde hair, fingers twirling around the curls worriedly. "That was not a comment on your appearance, dear," he added, chancing a glance over his paper once more.

"Oh, don't do that!" She groaned. "You're horrible! Absolutely horrible! I don't know why I ever married you!"

"At the time, it was my devilish good looks and witty sense of humor," he said, turning a page in the paper. Elizabeth and Jane watched the scene unfold with some amusement. To any outsider, their parents' marriage appeared rocky at best, on the verge of homicide at the worst. Only their five daughters knew their deepest, darkest secret—Tom and Faye Bennett were still madly in love, after 27 long years of marriage; they just had a mordant way of showing it.

"Stop it! Oh, have pity on my poor nerves and stop joking!"

"You underestimate the regard I have for your poor nerves," he smirked. "You forget, they've been my constant companions these last 30 years, we're well acquainted, your nerves and I."

"You're horrible! Absolutely horrible!" His wife declared again. Tom winked at Elizabeth from behind the paper. "And here I am, trolling the neighborhood, trying to confirm whether or not the Netherfield Inn really does have a new owner or not, just so you can strategize! I don't know why I even try and help you anymore!"

"Because the books would be a mess if you didn't, and you refuse to use an accountant after the Collins Fiasco." The Bennett Family was full of Life Lessons—Bill Collins was the reason why you never hired family, especially distant family, no matter how many favors you owed your father; and Faye proved even gossipy, flighty blondes could have brains. She'd been doing Longbourn Suites' bookkeeping since Bill had been unceremoniously tossed from the hotel after a small "miscalculation" that wound up nearly costing Tom thousands.

"Someone bought Netherfield?" Jane asked, clearly surprised. The old Netherfield Inn had been sitting in a state of decay for the last 5 years, since the last owner decided the hotel business just wasn't for him.

"Yes!" Faye lamented.

"Who?" Elizabeth demanded.

"I don't know! That's the worst of it! All the business deals with it have been kept under wraps! Not even your Uncle Ed knows!"

"He knows," Tom interjected. "He's just not saying anything." His wife shot him one of the dirtiest looks they'd ever witnessed, one of she undoubtedly learned from their grandmother. The woman could freeze ice when she was angry enough.

"You knew," she said, voice heavy with accusation. "You knew and you didn't say anything?"

"I couldn't," he shrugged. "The new owner didn't want the information being released until today, when the sign was finally put up. Ed couldn't have told Maddie before then, ergo, Maddie couldn't have told you or Emma."

"You could have told me! Oh, my nerves!" She lamented. "Do you have any idea what was going through my head this morning when I saw the 'sold' sign? There Emma and I were, powerwalking down the street, and Netherfield's got a great big sold sign on the front of it! I thought for sure we'd be unprepared, Longbourn would lose business, we'd wind up in the streets!"

"Oh ye of little faith."

"Who bought it then?" Faye asked eagerly, leaning across the table. Tom decided to indulge his wife's penchant for gossip—and mercenary business savvy—and set his paper down.

"Who bought what?" Lydia, the youngest, and her older sister Kitty tromped into the kitchen, still clad in their pajama shorts and tank tops. The Irish Twins of the family, they could have been mistaken for identical twins if Kitty wasn't slightly taller, or if Lydia didn't have wider, doe-eyes. They were undoubtedly Faye's daughters—where Elizabeth took after her father in the hair, nose and temperament, the youngest girls were practically teenage clones of their mother. Jane was a happy combination of the two and no one was sure where Mary fit in, though she bore a striking physical resemblance to her second oldest sister in her late teen years.

"Someone bought the old Netherfield Inn," Elizabeth said.

"Who?" The girls chorused.

"Why don't we wait for Mary to come down and then I'll tell all of you at once," Tom suggested. He knew his middle daughter wouldn't care, but he didn't want her feeling more isolated from the family than she already did. It was starting to become worrisome.

"Because Mary's going through another Emo phase and has declared she is not leaving her room for the rest of the day," Kitty sighed dramatically. She and Lydia took the empty chairs closest to their mother. "Honestly, she could at least move to a Punk phase. She'd still get to be angry, but the music would be better, at least."

"No it wouldn't," Lydia grimaced, scrunching her nose up in distaste. "That's like, even worse than—"

"Oh just tell us!" Faye cried, cutting her youngest off.

"Charles Bingley," he said. "Young man, not much older than Janie, I don't think. He's an associate at Pemberly Enterprises who's been given the 'Netherfield Project,' as they've dubbed it."

"A chain?" Faye blanched, perfectly familiar with Pemberly Enterprises—she was one of their Los Angeles spa's best clients after all. "A chain company bought Netherfield? Oh! We're ruined!" She cried. "Ruined! You know once those chain hotels start going in, there's nothing there for the—"

"Oh shut up," Tom cut his wife off, more exasperated with her shrieking than anything. "We're hardly ruined. Pemberly caters to a much—higher-end clientele than Longbourn or Lucas Lodge, surely you know that. We'll be fine."

"Higher-end like, famous people?" Lydia asked eagerly. "Will famous people be coming to Meryton?" Tom rolled his eyes and went back to perusing the morning's headlines.

"If there are famous people coming to Meryton, they should stay at Longbourn," Faye grumbled. "I don't like this Bingley."

"He's single," Tom deadpanned. Faye's eyes lit up, an almost predatory gleam in her eyes. It was a look both Jane and Elizabeth had become uncomfortably familiar with over the last few years. Until her daughters had come of age, she had to settle for playing matchmaker to the single women of the small beach town; now, she had focused her attentions entirely on her two eldest daughters, hoping to match them with wealthy, intelligent men.

"Single?" She parroted. The sisters shot their father dirty looks, but he didn't see them from behind his paper. "And he's an associate at Pemberly? I suppose that pays rather well," she said thoughtfully, surreptitiously looking between her two oldest girls. The predatory gleam was back.

"I'm going to work," Elizabeth announced, survival instincts kicking in. The last time her mother had tried to set her up, it hadn't ended well for anyone. No matter how nice the guy looked on paper, his personality was sorely lacking, and so were his brains. Jane looked at her helplessly, a pitiful expression on her face. Without Elizabeth there, Faye's attempts would be focused on Jane, who didn't work on the weekends and therefore had no convenient excuse to leave the house yet. Elizabeth tried to look apologetic as she fled from the table, but was too focused on getting out of the house before her mother started giving her hair and make-up advice.

"Tell Will I'll bring the extra tables and chairs for tonight over this afternoon!" Her father called after her.

"What's tonight?" Lydia asked, perking up slightly.

"Did you forget about Charlotte's birthday?" Jane asked.

"No," Lydia huffed. "I was just hoping there'd be another Greek mixer in one of the other ballrooms," she shrugged. "It'd be better than Charlotte's boring party. She's not even hiring a DJ! It's just going to be stupid Sammy and his laptop!" Elizabeth rolled her eyes and headed for the front door.

"Lizzie!" Elizabeth spun around to see Mary crouched on the stairway. She'd dyed her hair again, the brown locks streaked with red now, and was wearing a baggy grey sweatshirt that almost covered her shorts entirely. "Is it safe to come out?" She asked warily. Elizabeth looked at her oddly. "Kitty and Lydia tried to give me a make-over, again," she grimaced.

"They're still in the kitchen," Elizabeth said. "Jane and Dad are, too, so it should be safe."

"I'm not chancing it," she grumbled, slowly standing up. "Lydia had scissors with her. I'll see you later, Lizzie." The 20-year-old disappeared back up the stairs and Elizabeth retreated outside. She couldn't help but let out a sigh of relief when she finally shut he door. She loved her sisters dearly, but having four of them was sometimes too much.

She pulled her bike from its resting spot against the side of the house and wheeled it out to the driveway before taking off in the direction of Lucas Lodge.

"I don't know what you're so worried about." Darcy shot his friend an incredulous look, but the redhead didn't seem to notice. He was still staring at the dilapidated building in front of them. The property was fantastic; that was true enough. It was within walking distance of the beach, had great views from what he could tell, and was in a relatively secluded area of the small beach town, which would guarantee maximum privacy for the guests who were seeking a reprieve from their busy, camera flash-filled lives.

The Inn itself however was another matter entirely. The foundation was cracking, the building was crumbling, and he was fairly certain something had died under the kitchen floorboards.

"Think of the potential," Charlie's voice brought him out of his reverie. "I mean, this is what you wanted, right? A chance to build from the ground up? If we get the right contractors in here, we could probably have it done sometime this year. I already had our inspector look at that crack you were worried about, he said it was just the building settling, it's an old building, nearly 100 years old. That has to count for something. It's one of the few historic buildings left in Meryton, which means that it has that added—"

"It's a historic building?" Darcy groaned. "Do you know the red-tape nightmare that comes with—"

"Ed Gardiner, the solicitor handling the property, already offered to take care of that," he waved it off. "Most of what we want to do doesn't violate any of their rules on renovations, according to Tom Bennett so—"

"Who?"

"Oh, Tom Bennett. He owns Longbourn Suites, on the other side of the town. Longbourn's historic too. Ed helped him with the 'red tape' on that one; so they know all the ins and outs. Actually, they did quite a bit more work than we did. There was a fire there in the 70s, they had to rewire the whole building. You'll meet them both tonight. William Lucas, the owner of Lucas Lodge, he's invited us to his daughter's birthday party."

"We don't even know the girl." He wasn't really keen on spending the evening amongst strangers celebrating the birthday of someone they didn't even know. It seemed wrong almost, intruding on what was sure to be a family affair.

"It's a community thing," Charlie said. "All the locals are a really tight-knit group, rather sweet actually. Anyway, he said we could show up a little early and tour the Lodge if we wanted, see what they've done with the place, restoration wise."

"I don't think—"

"We've been invited, we're going," Charlie cut him off. "We're trying to establish ties in the community, Will, it won't make too good of an impression if you don't show up." Darcy grimaced. He grudgingly had to admit Charlie was right, of course; it wouldn't make a good impression if he spent his first night in town holed up in the rental house Charlie had found. He wanted to assure the locals that a chain wasn't trying to run everyone out of business, which is precisely why he decided to put Charlie in charge of the project in the first place. The redhead was personable, charming, and could find a friend in anyone. Charlie Bingley was the exact opposite of Will Darcy, who was the epitome of a socially awkward introvert. "We're going," he repeated. He was trying to be intimidating, Darcy could tell, but Charlie was about as intimidating as a basketful of puppies.

"Fine," he sighed, running a hand over his face. He didn't have to look to know that Charlie was grinning like a Cheshire cat.

"Great! Come on, I'll show you the rest of the building." Darcy eyed the decrepit structure warily.

"Is it even safe?" He asked.

"It's perfectly safe," Charlie rolled his eyes. "It's not going to come down on us, I've been through this place a hundred times already and I'm still in one piece." Reluctantly, Darcy followed him into the building, trying to come up with some excuse to get him out of going to that party.