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Lizzie dressed with a little more effort for the party at the Lucas property than she had for the one a week before at the beach, albeit entirely due to Jane's influence. She had been happily attired in jeans and a t-shirt when her sister dragged her back to the mirror. "You can't wear that, Lizzie."
"What do you mean? I wear this all the time."
"Exactly. You have to wear something more...more dressy."
Lizzie surveyed Jane's flirty little skirt and strappy sandals. "I see. I'm not allowed to wear this or you'll feel overdressed."
"Come on, Lizzie, please."
Jane batted her long eyelashes, using what Lizzie liked to call her lost puppy face. She was always helpless against this particular weapon of her older sister's. "Ok, ok, I'll change, just stop looking at me like that, damn you. But only one thing. Your choice." She did an exaggerated twirl while Jane critically assessed the tight black jeans, striped shirt and flats she wore. "And I need to wax my legs so you better take that into consideration."
Jane made a face at Lizzie's words. Her sister was always perfectly groomed, despite the fact that her fine blonde body hair was barely noticeable. "Well, there goes my first option but I'm not put off that easily." She looked speculatively at Lizzie before disappearing into her well organised half of their wardrobe to rummage for a minute. Her smile was triumphant when she emerged, a loosely woven knit top hanging like a scrap from her hands.
"Pink? Jane, you know I never wear pink."
"Just try it on."
Lizzie groaned and shrugged off her t-shirt, ungraciously snatching the offered garment from her sister. It slipped over her head easily, the silky jersey clinging to her full chest and draping in a deep V down her back. Jane looked at her approvingly. "There. It suits you far better than it does me. I wish I had boobs like yours."
"You got everything else, Janey." Lizzie had to admit that her sister's choice was more flattering than she thought it would be. The reflection in the mirror showed her that the rosy pink of the fabric matched the blush on her pale cheeks and bought out the green flecks in her hazel eyes. "Even your taste is better than mine."
"I don't know about your first statement but the last one I agree with entirely. So you should wear these as well." Jane giggled while thrusting a pair of high heeled pumps toward her sister.
Lizzie put her hands up in defence. "I draw the line there. If I have to stagger around the garden at the Lucas's in those, I promise you it won't be pretty."
Jane considered the stilettos for a moment before dropping them onto the bed. "Charlie is picking us up in ten minutes and you haven't even put your makeup on." She peered more closely at her sister. "Not that you need it."
"That's enough from you. Go finish getting ready. I'm not the one trying to make our mother proud by bringing home a catch like Bingley."
"He's not a fish, Lizzie, and I haven't even kissed him."
"Only from sheer lack of opportunity." Jane disappeared into the bathroom while Lizzie checked herself over in the dressing table mirror. It had surprised her that Jane hadn't found the opportunity to snog Bingley yet, even though she had seen him several times during the week before. From the late night conversations she shared with her sister, it sounded as though he was always surrounded by his entourage when she had seen him at the pro tour events and Lizzie knew that Jane was quite shyly reserved with her affections around other people. The only time they had spent alone together was for an early morning surf and the large swell that day had hardly made the water a conducive place for romance.
Despite Jane's declaration that Lizzie didn't need makeup, she applied a lick of mascara and a touch of blush. She left it at that though, merely going on to braid her hair back from her face to keep it out of her eyes. When car lights pulled into the driveway, Lizzie was glad she'd kept it simple. Any interruption to her cosmetic operations usually culminated in an epic fail. "Jane, Bingley's here."
Jane's worried face appeared from behind the bathroom door. "Do I look alright?"
"Janey, you look lovely. It's impossible for you to look any other way, even if you were wearing a sack. Over your head." Lizzie picked up their bags and passed Jane her's. "Now out with you."
The way Charlie greeted Jane, Lizzie may as well have been a shrub in the garden, not that she minded that in the least. The car was empty of any other company and she sat alone in the back seat as Bingley drove them, feeling relief that she didn't have to try and make conversation with either his sisters or his friend.
The party looked to be a fairly casual affair, no matter how Mr Lucas had attempted to dress the family homestead up. The house itself was a beautiful example of the colonial style but the haphazard balloons and streamers on the wide verandah did it little justice. Drooping fairy lights twinkled erratically in the trees that lined the driveway. It looked like any of the back yard parties Lizzie had attended, despite Mr Lucas's boasting at them that it was tour season's most elite gathering.
He and his wife greeted guests at the entrance but Mr Lucas abandoned his post at Bingley's arrival and escorted him and his companions to the back garden. A crowd had already gathered around the bonfire that he had built from the previous years vineyard prunings, as well as any other random thing he deemed burnable and there was a small stage set up on the other side of the garden where a band were tuning their instruments.
Mr Lucas insisted on showing Bingley the features of his small holding. The young man was doing an excellent job of hiding his disinterest behind a polite smile, encouraging Mr Lucas toward greater descriptive heights. Jane, having been integral to the planning of the food for the event, slipped away to check that the hired staff were completing it to her specifications. Lizzie followed the two men briefly, feeling a compunction to try and protect Bingley from the often inappropriate Mr Lucas but on the arrival of his friend, Darcy, and his sisters, escaped on the pretext of finding Charlotte.
She was by the bar, the first place Lizzie thought to look for her. Charlotte grinned as she came towards her, passing her a brimming glass of wine. "Thank god for your sister, Lizzie, the kitchen was turning into a shit fight before she arrived and started sorting it out. I got out of there as soon as I could."
Lizzie's friend was very adept at assisting her father on their small vineyard but her capabilities deserted her once inside the house. But by the rate the pulled pork rolls and kimchi hotdogs disappeared from the trays that started emerging from the kitchen, Jane's catering was a triumph, despite some of the older attendants of the party flicking out the cabbage into the garden beds and demanding to know what was wrong with lettuce.
Lizzy and Charlotte giggled at their palpable outrage but noted between themselves that they still hovered around the waitstaff, cutting out everyone else in their haste to get to the food. The two girls only just managed to secure themselves a plate to share, retreating to a secluded spot at the back of the garden.
Charlotte wiped her mouth and chucked her used napkin onto the table. "Jane's food is sublime. She'll certainly find her way into Bingley's heart through his stomach, if no way else."
Lizzie had finished her own food and was happily nursing her glass of white. "Talk sense, Lottie. Jane doesn't need to cook to keep him interested."
"She's barely emerged from the kitchen. It doesn't exactly make her look like she's hanging out for his company."
"Who's fault is that? You're the one who abandoned her there."
"It's not like she can't leave the staff to it now that they know what they're doing."
Lizzie knew Charlotte had a point but her sister was incapable of ignoring an appeal for help. But she had no doubt that Bingley was counting the minutes til she was free. "She just wants it to be perfect. You should be grateful."
"Why should I care?"
"It's your party. Besides, Jane hates PDA's."
"Lizzie, if Jane want to lock down a man with that kind of profile, she should show she's into him and make sure every other girl around here knows he's taken. She should be all over him."
"Charlotte Lucas! You sound exactly like my mother. Jane has never been 'all over' anyone."
"Well, look at Emma Phillips sleazing onto him? Your sister needs to be a bit more agressive and get these other girls to piss off."
"You do know who we're talking about don't you? Jane doesn't have an aggressive bone in her body. Besides, when would she ever need one when it came to the opposite sex? Boys've been chasing her since kindergarten." Despite her confident words Lizzie looked suspiciously back at where Bingley and Darcy stood in their audience of sycophants. Emma was being obviously provocative but Bingley looked more irritated than interested. As she watched, Darcy looked up towards them and Lizzie caught his eyes. She dropped her own in a rush. "Smells of desperation to me. But come on, Charlotte, get real. You'd never try those tactics with a guy. I reckon that the pro-ho's are more likely to drive Bingley straight into Jane's arms, than steal him from her."
Charlotte raised her eyebrow. "Yeah, you say that, but you don't think with your dick."
Lizzie snuck another look at Bingley and his friends. He was ignoring the discontent girl beside him, his attention arrested by something across the lawn. Lizzie followed his gaze and saw that Jane had finally taken off her apron and was walking toward her. She waved at Lizzie and smiled, quickening her step but Bingley reached her before she could join them. The smile she turned to him with was sweeter than the one she had just directed at Lizzie. It seemed impossible that Charlotte couldn't see that Jane's look at the surfer expressed a genuine, if slightly overwhelmed attraction and by the admiration in Bingley's return gaze, he felt it too.
Lizzie turned back to Charlotte, triumphantly ready to point this out but her friend had moved away toward the stage. "The band's starting. Let's find a good spot."
Whatever Mr Lucas's failings were as a decorator, he had a fairly astute interest in music. He always managed to book one of the good local or interstate bands that toured the region during the pro tour events. How he got them play at his private functions was somewhat of a mystery but Lizzie never questioned his tactics when it allowed her to enjoy a gig away from the usual rowdy watering holes that populated the townsites. She followed Charlotte to the front of the stage and danced the whole set. It had been an age since she'd let loose on a dance floor and by the end of the encore she was sweating and smiling and gasping for a drink.
She clapped her hands one last time and turned to talk to Charlotte but instead of her friend, she found herself grinning up at William Darcy. His lips twitched up as her own fell and she cut her exuberant words off short. "...Sorry, I thought you were someone else."
"You evidently enjoyed the band."
"Yes." Lizzie lifted her chin. "What wasn't there to like?"
Darcy considered the stage where the roadies were starting to pack up. "Well, the mix was pretty shit, the vocals clipped on the high notes. And two broken guitar strings is just unprofessional. But they were tight, I guess."
Lizzie blinked at the faint praise he offered. She wasn't sure why she felt like she had to defend the band, the sound had been crap, though that had probably more to do with Mr Lucas's cannibalised PA system and ancient sound desk than any fault of the musicians. She sucked in her breath. "I see what your game is. By telling me that I obviously liked the gig and then pointing out all the defects, I'm supposed to feel embarrassed by my poor taste. But your plan failed, I'm not embarrassed at all."
"Why should you be? They weren't bad, otherwise I wouldn't have watched them."
"I suppose, coming from the man who doesn't find anything good enough, 'not bad' is glowing praise indeed."
He tilted his head questioningly at her. "I don't know what makes you think that about me. You don't know me well enough to comment on my opinions."
Lizzie laughed. "Oh, I take people at face value. First impressions never lie, do they? Please feel free to judge my character as well. Oh wait, you already have."
"What? I'm not judging you because you liked the band." He shook his head. "I'm going to the bar, can I get you anything? You must be thirsty from dancing like that."
Lizzie wanted to ask him what he meant by the 'like that' but held her tongue. She looked over his shoulder instead and to her relief spotted Charlotte. "No, thanks. Excuse me."
Charlotte had bought over fresh drinks, which Lizzie gratefully quenched her thirst with but she could barely concentrate a word her friend was saying. Darcy, damn him, was still staring after her. She pulled Charlotte away from the speakers that had started blasting out the Beach Boys, cutting her off in the middle of a sentence. "Have I got something on my face?"
"No, you look gorgeous. Why?"
"Mr 'holier than thou' Darcy won't stop looking at me. I'm positive he's trying to intimidate me."
"Where is he?" Charlotte turned around, blatantly peering through her glasses around the crowded lawn.
"Right behind you. Do you have to be so obvious?" Lizzie grabbed her friends arm to draw her attention back to herself so they weren't both staring at the tall man.
"I don't think those are intimidation tactics, Lizzie." Charlotte giggled back over her shoulder again. "It looks like he wants to jump your bones."
"Enough, Charlotte." Lizzie bodily pulled her out of Darcy's line of sight. "Your radar, as always, is completely off." She let herself take one final glance at him, this time his attention was focussed on the simpering form of Caroline who had stepped up to his side. "Trust me, the man is probably just trying to work out what he likes the least about me. He even disapproves of the way I dance."
Charlotte laughed. "Don't be so quick to write him off, Lizzie. God knows there's few enough guys around here who are interested in more than their surfboard, bong and play station."
"Hmmm, give me that any day over a man who's head is so firmly shoved up his own arse he can see out his mouth."
"I'm used to you hating people, Lizzie, but not usually this ferociously. What'd he say to you?
Lizzie frowned and drained her wine glass. "Nothing much, there's just something about the man that makes my skin crawl. I'm going over there." She pointed to the other side of the garden at a table that held some of their mutual friends. "I'm sick of the bloody sight of him."
By the time it struck midnight, the tone of the gathering had definitely lowered to something debauched and Lizzie was contemplating her options of escape. Jane had left with Bingley an hour before but before Lizzie had insisted she didn't mind staying over with Charlotte. She had half expected to anyway, though she'd really prefer to go home. The party was ripe to go for hours yet and Charlotte' room was by no means soundproof. The wine Lizzie had drunk had begun to make her sleepy and she yawned as she tried to spot her friend. It wasn't Charlotte's head she found though, rather her youngest sister's, sucking face with a unknown shaggy haired guy who was clearly more than a few years older than her. "Lydia! What the hell are you doing here?"
Lydia staggered a little as Lizzie grabbed her shoulder to pull her from the fervent embrace. "Jesus, Lizzie, do you have to be such a spoilsport?"
The guy tried to tug Lydia back into his arms. "Yeah, don't be such a downer, babe."
"Fuck off, dickhead. Did she tell you she was only 16?"
The guy smirked. "I've had younger."
"Yeah? Well, if you don't fuck off, I'll tell that to my mate over there who's brother's a cop. That's statuary rape, you arsehole."
He let go of Lydia and took a couple of steps back, stumbling over the border of the garden. "Listen, you crazy bitch, you can't pin that shit on me. I'm fucking out of here."
Lydia leaned closer toward Lizzie's face, enveloping her in a sickening haze of bourbon. "Lizzie, now look what you've done! He was gonna take me backstage at the next heats!"
"So he could pass you round like the local bike? You better watch it, Lydia, or you're going to end up in so much trouble you don't want to even know. How'd you get here anyway?"
"I came with Kelly."
"Do her parents know you came?"
"Yep. They dropped us off."
Lizzie knew the defensive look her sister gave her invariably signalled a lie. She pulled her phone out of her pocket. "Great, I'm calling them. You find Kelly."
"She's already gone home. Her brother rang her parents to pick her up when he found her here."
"What are they doing leaving you here? They better come and pick you up too or Dad'll rip them a new arsehole." She started searching for the number but before she could find it, Lydia snatched phone from her hands, her drunken squeal rising above the beat of the music.
"Don't embarrass me like that. Lizzie!"
Lizzie grabbed the phone back out of her sister's slack grip. "They don't know you're here as well, do they? What is it, you just thought you'd just pass out some bush or pick the closest random sleaze to go home with?"
Lydia teetered on her high heels as she stepped back from Lizzie. "I hadn't thought that far. You're not going to dob on me to Dad are you?"
"Look at yourself, you're off your face. I won't even need to tell him, he'll know the second he sees you when he comes to pick us up."
"Lizzie, no! The pro tour just started and you know he won't let me out of the house again til Mum makes him change his mind. That might be ages!"
"I only hope he makes you stay home for good."
"Please, Lizzie, I'll do the dishes for a week, I'll do your washing. Anything! Don't tell him."
"Jesus, Lydia!" Lizzie didn't want to tell her father anymore than her sister did. Lydia's behaviour would blacken his mood so he became monosyllabic for days. Then her mother would think he was being rude to her and start a brawl. A one sided brawl anyway; Frank never raised his voice unless it was to call for the dog. Priscilla would shriek enough for the both of them though. It was a pattern Lizzie had seen over and over again. She gave a deep sigh. "Ok, you can stay with Charlotte and me but you're the one who has to come up with something to tell Dad when we get home tomorrow."
Lydia grinned. "That I can do. Thanks, Lizzie, you're my favourite sister after Jane. And Kitty."
Lizzie shook her head in in half amazed resignation. "Look, you sit there and don't try anything. I'm going to find Charlotte and then you and I both going to bed."
Lydia sat down with a mulish expression, looking ready to give her sister a retort but the sharp glance Lizzie gave her kept her silent. She was doubtful her sister would stay put in her absence but knew the threat of telling their father would keep her from straying far. The party showed no signs of Charlotte. It had been several hours since Lizzie had seen her anywhere around the garden so she went inside to check if she'd retired to her bedroom.
Indeed she had. With unexpected and, for Lizzie at least, unwelcome company. Lizzie hadn't taken two steps into the room before she realised the grunting coming the bed wasn't her friend snoring. She retreated in haste hoping the rhythmic thud of the bed was enough to cover the sound of the door creaking shut behind her.
Despite her promise to Lydia, it seemed that calling their father to pick them up might be the only option. She made her way back to her sister, declining a drunken invitation to join a drinking game or to dance to the Guns and Roses now cranking from the stereo. Lydia had sagged in her chair looking like she was ready to pass out and Lizzie shook her arm to get her attention. "Lyddy, I'm going to see if I can get a lift from someone, otherwise I'm going to have to call Dad."
Her sister blearily lifted her head. "Uh, Lizzie."
"Now what?"
"I don't feel so well. I think I'm gonna chuck."
"Jesus, Lydia. I've nearly had enough of this." Nonetheless, Lizzie helped her sister to her feet to direct her to a convenient garden bed but, before they had taken two steps, Lydia choked and then vomited all over Lizzie's shoes.
And of course at exactly that moment, William Darcy decided to materialise, a look of distaste on his handsome features. Caroline and Augusta stood behind him, looking equally disgusted. "Are you both ok? Your sister looks pretty drunk."
"No shit, Sherlock."
"How old is she anyway?"
"Too young for you."
Darcy recoiled in horror as Lizzie struggled to get Lydia back to her chair. He had disappeared when she glanced up again, but not for long, returning with a cup of water.
Lizzie wanted to tell the lot of them to fuck off but took the cup from him sullenly, using it to rinse her shoes rather than giving it to Lydia to drink. Her sister had stopped heaving so Lizzie collared her and dragged her stumbling form away from the the garden toward the car park.
She was about to call her father when she realised Darcy was still with them. Bingley's sister's at least had seen enough and not followed them too. "The show's over. Why are you still here?"
"Can give you both a lift home? I'm leaving anyway. Just let me get Caroline and Louisa."
Lizzie lack of options almost tempted her to accept his offer but the thought of sharing Lydia's disgraceful state further with Bingley's sisters was too much. She shoved her phone back in her pocket. "No, we plan to walk."
Darcy looked incredulous. "Don't be ridiculous. Cowaramup's 20km's away. And your sister clearly couldn't walk 5 metres."
"It's 25km away actually, but I would walk twice as far before getting in your car." Lizzie turned her back on him and walked away, pulling Lydia behind her, before Darcy could respond. It felt so satisfying she couldn't help the swagger that entered her stride. When she reached the road she retrieved her phone to call her father but an old station wagon pulled up beside them. Denny Nichols poked his head out of the open window of the car and yelled over the blaring Anthrax on the stereo. "Going our way, ladies?"
Lizzie lowered her head to look doubtfully inside the car at the occupants. "You're not drunk are you?"
Denny looked around at his companions. "I can't speak for Pratty or Wickham here, but I'm sober as a judge. Mum'd have my balls if I get caught DD again."
Denny lived only a couple of kilometres from the Bennet farm. Despite the fact that he was closer to her age, he was more likely to be found in Lydia and Kitty's circles. "Well then, a lift would be awesome." Lizzie opened the door to get into the back seat. "Shit, Denny, it's a rubbish tip in here. Where are we supposed to sit?"
"Calm down, Bennet." Denny reached over the bench seat of the car and used his arm to sweep a pile of old iced coffee cartoons and pie wrappers off the back seat. "Shove over, George." He said to the man lolling across the length of the car.
Lizzie eyed the seat cover, trying to work out if the filth that remained was tomato sauce or something worse. "Gee thanks, Denny, you sure know how to treat a girl." Her tone was more acerbic than Denny probably deserved but she was still smarting from humiliation. The man in the back seat spread a towel that had also seen better days over the seat and Lizzie smiled her thanks before gingerly climbing into the car, pulling Lydia in behind her. "It stinks like dog and bong water in here."
Denny raised his eyebrows with a look of irritation. "Jeez princess, do you want a lift or not?"
She glanced back toward the Lucas house. Darcy's car hadn't started yet so she had thought at first that he must have gone back to the party but he still stood there, his figure half shadowed under the white gums that protected the Lucas house. "Sorry, Den, I'm being precious. Just get us the fuck out of here."
The man sharing the back seat with them smiled. "Hi, I'm George."
"I'm Lizzie."
He gave Lydia a questioning look. "Is she ok?"
George had a very engaging face and Lizzie decided it was typical that she would meet a cute guy just when she happened to have vomit in her shoes. "She will be, though I hope she has the mother of all hangovers tomorrow morning." Lydia dropped her head on Lizzie's shoulder and started to softly snore. "Thank god you guys turned up when you did, I had no idea how we were going to get home."
"Who was that you were talking to back there?"
Lizzie groaned. "William Darcy, though I wouldn't call it talking, more like actively trying to avoid."
The smile faded slowly from George's lips. "Darcy, eh? I had heard he was around, but I haven't yet had the dubious pleasure of running into him."
Lizzie was too irritable to soften her words, even though she didn't know anything of George Wickham at all. "There's nothing dubious about it. William Darcy is a creep."
The man looked at her speculatively, as if unsure how to respond to such vehemence. Lizzie thought his reticence did him credit, but felt inclined to reassure him that she would be happy to engage in a good Darcy bagging session. He shook his head though, the smile creeping back into his eyes. "Surely we've got better things to talk about than Darcy."
