Early morning sunlight streamed through the open window, leaving golden slivers of light on a bed in the center of the room. Birds chirped in the trees outside. An alarm clock beeped out its time in a hideous fashion, and a pale hand reached out from beneath a blue comforter on the bed, fumbling for it. After a few seconds the noise stopped. Slowly, and none too happily, Lizzie Bennet stirred. She mechanically dragged herself off of her bed and stood up with her eyes closed.

"Damn it", she said under her breath. Why did I let Lydia drag me to that stupid club? She knows that I have work to do, and I can't get it done if she's constantly dragging me out to "work" parties. "And now I have a killer hangover. Damn it", Lizzie repeated.

Last night had a fuzzy feeling about it…a feeling that Lizzie ignored and attempted to wash away with a long shower. But there was something lurking in the back of her mind. Something happened…what was it? As she rinsed her shampoo down the drain, she realized what it was. Lydia had taken their mother along with her to the fashion industry "work party". Jacqueline Bennet and her daughter Lydia were both forces to deal with on their own. But combined and given champagne in large quantities…they were incorrigible. Both mother and daughter were alike in all qualities: they were both loud, foolish, and wild; they both attended lavish parties and acted like total idiots in front of the very people they tried to impress, and they both embarrassed Lizzie daily in the cruelest ways. As Lizzie tried and failed to remember last night's specific incidents, one face flashed before her mind. It was a man, with dark hair and eyes…and the strangest expression…who was he? Then memory came back to Lizzie in a rush.

It was a chilly and overcast Saturday night in late October. Lizzie had been working at the Waterstone's bookstore near her tiny flat in London, trying to make a little extra money in between her classes at the Royal Academy of Dramatic Art. As her shift ended, her cell phone rang. It was Lydia, calling her to tell her all in a rush that her manager at the Selfridges' where she worked had told her that there was some "big, fashion-industry party" at a club downtown and that the manager had to drop out at the last minute but still had 3 invitations. Lydia said she thought her, her mother, Lizzie, Jane, and Kitty could all get in. With a sigh that Lizzie knew was pointless, she tried to talk her way out of going, but once Lydia was onto something she would never stop trying.

"Besides, it'll be good for you to get out of your flat and meet some men again. It's been two years, Lizzie", Lydia encouraged her sister.

Lizzie reluctantly agreed, and felt better once she knew that her older and more sensible sister Jane had agreed to go.

Lizzie hurried back to her flat and put on the best dress she could find: a thin-strapped periwinkle goddess style dress and silver sandals. Her wavy dark brown hair was up in a messy bun and she left it that way. She put on no makeup, and soon Jane was outside in her silver sedan to pick Jane up.

"Hey", Jane said, as Lizzie slid into the passenger seat. "I can't believe Lydia coerced me into another of her parties."

"Me neither", Lizzie muttered under her breath.

"Well I suppose it could be fun. We'll look at it with a positive eye", said Jane.

Minutes later they arrived at the club, which was built out over the Thames. Pulsing dance music made the whole pier vibrate. A long line of people snaked away from the door, waiting for the bouncer to let them in. Lydia was, of course, at the front. She showed the bouncer her tickets and somehow managed to make him let in more than were allowed by the tickets. As they entered the club, they were immediately almost blinded by yellow and blue lights, and the music got ten times louder. As her eyes adjusted, Lizzie observed that it was a huge club, teeming with people dressed in the most fashionable clothes around. Everyone seemed wealthy and completely wasted.

Ugh. Just what I wanted on a Saturday night. To spend time with arrogant fashion and celebrity brats who only care about getting laid, getting high, and getting the next Marc Jacobs dress. I can't stand these people. They never give a damn about a single person other than themselves.

Lizzie rolled her eyes at Jane, then they both walked over to the bar. Lizzie ordered just one drink and took small sips of it as she observed the room. She had just turned around back to the bar when she felt someone tap her shoulder. It was her mother and Lydia. Both were already quite tipsy. Lydia was dragging a horde of her new acquaintances.

"Lizzie and Jane", she beamed. "Meet Caroline Bingley. She's a fashion designer who works with all the fashion houses in Paris. She's fabulously famous, trust me. I know you two are kind of isolated from modern culture, but she's in all the tabs." Jacqueline gave a drunken, un-motherlike giggle.

The person Lydia described was tall and beautiful in a cruel-looking way. Her auburn hair was perfectly straight and smooth, not a strand out of place. Her eyes were dark and her expression was sour. Her dress was very low-cut and a deep red colour. She looked at Lydia as if she were a bug, and then gave a tiny, cold smile to Lizzie and Jane.

In turn Lydia introduced the two other men, both in their late twenties, with her. Charles Bingley, her brother, was apparently a rich lawyer . He had fair features like Jane's, but redder hair. He smiled a kind and warm smile to both of them when introduced. William Darcy, Charles' friend, and described by Lydia as a "madly wealthy" high-profile author and professor. He had dark hair and dark, brooding eyes. He seemed put off by something, or someone, and gave only a short and curt nod. He looked them all over with an ice-cold stare. Was it just Lizzie's imagination, or did his eyes linger on her a moment too long before dropping back to observe the rest of the room?

As Jane and Charles started up and spirited conversation, Lydia began to talk again. "Jane's working as a music teacher at the local school, and Lizzie's studying drama at the Academy." At this second mention of Lizzie, William Darcy's eyes once again met hers and held hers for a second. They both looked away. What was with him? Lizzie asked herself. He came to a party to party, not to look angry and make other feel sorry for ever talking to him, right?

But just then Caroline cut Lydia off mid-sentence and proclaimed that they were going to the outdoors bar to "have a drink or two". They all turned to leave, a reluctant Charles Bingley giving a last smile to Jane, seeming quite interested in her.

Kitty and Lydia went off to dance with random men on the floor, and Ms.Bennet decided to get champagne and observe the crowd. Jane and Lizzie went outdoors to talk.

As they passed the sound system, they saw Charles Bingley and William Darcy deep in discussion, seemingly unheard. However, Jane and Lizzie caught some of their conversation.

"…Jane is really sweet. She's great. But Darcy, don't be such a taciturn person. There are plenty of beautiful girls here who would love the chance to talk to you if you would let them."

"No, Bingley, I think you truly have the only genuinely pretty girl here. The others are all so common and fake."

"Well that's your choice, I guess. But what about Jane's sister, Lizzie. She's nice-looking enough. And interesting. She's studying Shakespeare in here drama courses. And you are a Shakespeare professor. You'd at least have something to talk about".

"Lizzie? I hadn't really thought about it. She's tolerable, but barely. The whole family seems rather ridiculous, actually. They seem like a family of gold-diggers. Your Jane excluded of course."

At this Lizzie turned and left, her head reeling. What an arrogant bastard. As if he knows anything about me. He judges me without having spoken a word to me. Arrogant, rich, spiteful, proud…Triggered by the similarities between Darcy;s words and the words of a man she once knew, her mind snapped back to show her images she never wanted to see again, memories she had tried for two years to repress. A face, brown hair, a man she thought she had loved, and a betrayal…the realization that he had never meant the words he said to her. That he had never meant his love. That her fiancé had betrayed her and left her for a fellow celebrity. The storm of her long-hidden anger came over her and pulled her down. She walked quickly away to the railing and the river overlook. She caught her breath and stared for a long moment into the river. Then she walked slowly towards the bar and proceeded to deliberately and silently get completely drunk. Jane finally found her around 1am and carried her home.

Lizzie finished going over the events in her head and splashed cool water on her face. "Damn it". Tears leaked out from beneath her eyelids.