A/N: I'M SORRY! I meant to update sooner, but all my teachers decided it was time to start finals prep, and I almost died under all the homework -_-

Anyway, I should be able to go back to a regular schedule next week, but I won't be able to post until then, if I'm even able to post THEN. *facepalm* I don't like school...

Hope you like the chapter! Review please!

It was the next day that Jane was well enough to get out of the small guest room, and she thoroughly enjoyed being up and about again after being in bed for so long. Mr. Bingley seemed inseparable from her side, and Gwen wondered if they had suddenly become Siamese twins attached at the hip or something. They wandered the gardens, strolled through the house, and would have sat in the same chair, had it been socially acceptable.

This, of course, left Gwen with a choice. She could be a third wheel and tag along on their merry adventures through Young-and-in-Love-Ville, or she could be in the company of Clingy Caroline and Morose Mr. Darcy. She chose the third, less-sociable option and holed up on a comfy chair in the drawing room, or outside in the backyard with a book.

Netherfield was a beautiful place, and she really wished she had her sketchbook so she could go to the garden and draw, but she didn't, so she immersed herself in printed adventures with clear endings and easy to understand plots.

The stories had a purpose, a beginning and an ending between two leather covers. They were meant to impart a message, to convey something to the reader. This was something she was familiar with, having been an avid reader at home. And while the familiar sensation of knowing which way was up and down with a book in her hands, it also reminded her of how she lacked that sort of control over her own life.
While her life never had a distinct ending in sight, her story had parameters it rarely deviated from. There was a pattern, a routine. Now, she was lucky to know what to expect of the day ahead, let alone a week in advance.

She didn't know how to predict events in this time period. It was all a mystery to her. She never took History Twelve, and her knowledge of this era was sketchy at best. Not to mention the people here reacted differently than they did where she came from, and something that was perfectly innocent in 2012 could very well be a barbed insult in 1797.

Gwen did her best to be polite, but she grew increasingly frustrated with Caroline's constant jabs, and Mr. Darcy's consistent and growing indifference that she wasn't inclined to seek out their company.

It was three days after her arrival at Netherfield that Mrs. Bingley and the rest of her daughters paid the Bingley's a visit, and to collect the two staying with them. Gwen found herself quite embarrassed by Mrs. Bennet's constant fluttering, even though she wasn't related to her, but had to choke back a laugh when she took a bold jab at Mr. Darcy's large ego.

The man had glanced at her, which she replied to with an innocent smile before turning her attention back to the Bennet family. Maybe her suspicions were correct, and there was a different side to him that he didn't let show, but he was being an unpleasant stiff, and she found Mrs. Bennet's lack of a vocal filter amusing when turned in his direction.

"Thank you for your… superb company, Miss Bingley. I learned a lot," Gwen said innocently as she and the other woman headed towards the slightly worn Bennet Family carriage. Snob.

"The pleasure has been all mine," Caroline said, an edge to her voice as well. The two curtsied rather stiffly, and Gwen strode on towards the carriage.

"Mr. Darcy," She said, inclining her head, small smile on her face as she curtsied to the big man. He inclined his head in kind.

"Miss Gwendolyn."

Before she could dwell on how much she liked the way his voice sounded when he said her name, Gwen turned and curtsied to Mr. Bingley before turning to the carriage.

She had just extended her hand to use the hinged door for balance, when suddenly a warm hand was wrapped around hers. Startled, she glanced down and saw that the owner of the hand was Mr. Darcy.

She was struck by how small her hand was in his, and how warm his seemed to be. Maybe males just ran hot. She shot a confused look at him as she sat down and he released her hand, turning on his heel and striding off. She noticed him flexing the hand he had used to help her into the carriage, as if he had touched something dirty, and she made a face at his back, causing Jane, the only one who had seen, to giggle.

All the way back to Longborn, she frowned at the hand Darcy had seemed so disgusted at touching, which lay palm up in her lap, barely paying attention to the conversation around her, which seemed to involve a lot of talk about the army men staying in Meryton.

As soon as they arrived back at Longbourn, Gwen went upstairs to collect her sketchbook for some much needed drawing therapy. She was about to leave for outside, when the corner of a leather-bound book caught her eye from under her nightstand. She crouched and pulled it out, brushing dust off the cover.

"What have we here…?" She muttered to herself, opening the book. It was the journal that Jane had given her a week into her stay. The blonde had thought it would help Gwen if she had something to write her feelings in. Gwen had used it once, then kicked it under the nightstand in frustration. The first page was a list of things she missed from home, and Gwen smiled sadly as she read the list.

Gayle, my family, my friends, my car, electricity, internet, pencil lead, jeans, tank tops, music, TV, my house, my room, Lord of the Rings, my books, acrylic paint, sharpies, plastic anything, my iPod charger, cell service, telephones in general, did I mention jeans? Also chocolate, greasy food, McDonald's French fries, popcorn, and Cheez Whiz. I think I already said this, but I miss jeans.

She tucked the journal under her arm with her sketchbook and went outside.

"Gwen! Isn't it wonderful! They're going to be here all winter!" Lydia squealed, appearing at Gwen's side seemingly by magic, Kitty, as always, not too far behind, giggling up a storm.

Gwen sighed. "I'm assuming you're talking about the… what was it you were talking about when you were trying to get poor Mr. Bingley to hold a ball? Militia?" Lydia nodded frantically.

"Oh please, Gwen, will you take us into town tomorrow, or the day after?" Lydia pleaded.
"After Mr. Collins is settled?" Kitty added, looking just as hopeful as her sister. Gwen's brows knit in confusion.
"Who's Mr. Collins?" Lydia's eyes widened in surprise, and she and Kitty exchanged a look before turning their attention back to Gwen.

"That's right, you wouldn't know!"

"Explain while we walk, I'm heading to the swing," Gwen insisted, and the two started telling her who Mr. Collins was on the short walk over.

"Mr. Collins is our cousin! We've never met him, but he is to inherit Longbourn when Papa dies," Lydia said, and Gwen shot her a look of confusion as the young girl sat on the swing they had just reached.

"Even though your father has four daughters, his property has to go to some cousin you've never met? Why?"
"The land is entailed," Lydia said, as if it was the most obvious thing ever.

"It means it has to go to the eldest male relative," Kitty explained. "Us females get no say in the matter, but, truth be told, I wouldn't know what to do with an estate like this unless I had a husband to help me run it!"

"Hmmm." Gwen knew what entailment was, vaguely, and it seemed to be a silly idea. Why have to give your home to some male relative when there were perfectly able daughters to inherit the land? "Well. I suppose everyone'll meet him soon. When did you say he was coming?" Gwen asked, bumping Lydia off the swing with her hip, taking her place.

"Tonight," The two girls answered in tandem.

So Mr. Collins was creepy. Harmless, but creepy. After an hour or two of sitting in the garden pouring over her re-discovered journal, filling in the major events of the month it had been under the nightstand, and promising to try and keep a regular record of her life, Gwen was called in to prepare for Mr. Collins' visit.

Mrs. Bennet had them and the maid, Betsy, cleaning everything in sight, replacing the wilting flowers in the vase in the dining room, and making sure all the candles were lit.

They were shooed upstairs by Mrs. Bennet to get themselves cleaned up before their cousin arrived. Gwen remembered thinking how mad she'd be if her mother flew into such a tizzy whenever HER relatives came over.
Mr. Collins arrived while the girls were still upstairs, and they were called down about ten minutes after he was invited inside.

Gwen's first impression was of a small, slightly sweaty, slightly toad-ish, extremely creepy man with hair that fit his head so well it looked like it had been poured on. She told herself that maybe he had a good sense of humour, or some other quality that would make him easy to get along with. Then he opened his mouth.

After what seemed like forever of listening to him drone on and on about 'Lady Catherine de Bourgh,' and her daughter, Gwen had made a comment on his very rehearsed-sounding compliments that made Lydia choke on her food and caused Jane to kick her, gently, under the table.

Another thing. He seemed to be not-so-subtly hitting on Jane, talking with her whenever the opportunity came up and shooting her glances often. He was her cousin. Gag.

After dinner, they had all been forced to sit through an hour of Collins reading sermons in his droning voice. Gwen resigned herself to spending two weeks with the man.

"Your cousin is ridiculous. AND he was hitting on you. Gross." Gwen said to Jane as the two were getting ready for bed that night.

"I'm sure he can't be that bad," the blonde said, worry lines appearing on her forehead. Jane was too nice for her own good sometimes. Gwen knew it wasn't THAT weird for cousins to get married in this time period, but the idea was foreign and kinda gross to her. She imagined having to marry one of her male cousins, and shuddered involuntarily.

"Pffft!" Gwen flopped onto the bed, Josh Ramsay grinning at the ceiling from her shirt. "I've said it before, and I'll say it again – YOU'RE TO FREAKING NICE!" she whisper-shouted.

Jane giggled. "No one can be too nice. There's good in everyone, even your Mr. Darcy."

Gwen flipped herself over onto her knees and grabbed her pillow, buffeting Jane over the head with it. "You dare speak his name in my presence?" She said, trying, and failing to suppress a grin.

"Oh, is that how it is?" Jane said, grabbing her own pillow and giving Gwen a half-hearted swat. The two made sure to stay as quiet as possible, but Mr. Bennet stuck his head in five minutes later and told them to go to bed.

"No peace in this house," he could be heard muttering as he made his way back to his bedroom. Gwen clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle her laughter.

"I still say that Mr. Darcy is not as bad as he seems," Jane said once Gwen had quieted.

"If he's something other than a total snob slash jerk, then he's hid it well, don't you think?"
Jane shrugged, and the two fell into silence for a minute or two.

"I suppose we'll be taking Mr. Collins to the ball at Netherfield when it comes up?" Jane nodded. "Blah." Gwen
said, but smiled despite herself. "He's harmless enough, I suppose. If a little creepy."

Five minutes later, what Jane had said right before their pillow fight sunk in.

"What do you mean 'your Mr. Darcy'?"

"How is this supposed to be relaxing?" Mary asked, setting her brush on the ledge of her easel, frowning at her painting. Gwen had taken Mary out into the front garden where the rosebush was in full bloom by the entrance to Longbourn, and seemed to be calling the redhead to paint it. The two girls had lugged the piano bench out with them, along with two easels, five or six different types of brushes, and a set of oil paints.

"If you'd just loosen up a bit once and a while, Mare, maybe you wouldn't be so uptight all the time," Gwen said around the paintbrush clenched between her teeth. While one hand was holding the canvas steady, she was using the thumb of her other hand to blend the vibrant pink she was using with white to soften it. She leaned back and took the paintbrush out of her mouth, tucking it in the hair behind her ear, which had been scraped into a loose bun, and tilted her head to look at her work. She had chosen to paint the late bloomer of the bush, the petals baby soft and still half bloom.

"You only enjoy it because you are good at it," Mary said in exasperation.

"Not true," Gwen said, snatching the brush back from behind her ear to adjust the stem of the rose she was painting. "I got good at it because I like it," She said with relish. She had never been a neat painter. Thank goodness she had pushed the sleeves of her light blue dress up past her elbows. She had small amounts of green and pink paint splattered up both arms, all over her hands, and she was sure she had paint on her nose/forehead as well, but didn't particularly care.

Mary's painting wasn't even that bad. It wasn't amazing, but neither was Gwen's, and she was about to point this out when someone called her name.

"Miss Gwendolyn!" came the unmistakable voice of Mr. Collins. Gwen groaned internally, then plastered what she hoped was a friendly smile on her face and swung her legs around the bench so she was facing him.

"Yes?" He looked momentarily shocked by her paint-splattered appearance, but quickly collected himself. If it had been someone else, some who wasn't a Bennet, she would have been a bit embarrassed, but when Mr. Collins seemed taken aback by her appearance, she merely felt a sense of smug satisfaction. Don't like it, pretty boy?

"I was wondering if you would very much mind taking a turn about the estate with me. I much desire to have a tour."

Gwen really, really didn't want to take Mr. Collins on a tour, and looked to Mary for help, but saw none was forthcoming.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Collins, but I have to... finish my painting, then I'd promised I'd help Jane clean our room." She had made no such promise to Jane, but she did want to finish her painting. Mr. Collins' face fell quite obviously.

"I shall get one of my cousins to show me around then, shall I?" He asked rhetorically, and Gwen smiled apologetically at him before turning back to her painting as he headed back into the house.

"Thanks for nothing," She said to Mary, elbowing her in the ribs, smiling at her.

"I don't know why you're so upset about him wanting to be with you. If I were you, I'd be quite happy," Mary sniffed, trying to fix her rose. Gwen sighed and went back to her painting.

Marry headed back inside ten minutes later, leaving Gwen to finish her painting. There really wasn't much else for her to do on it beside add highlights, lowlights, and details, but she really didn't want to go back inside, so she kept layering paint on and slightly changing small things.

That was what she was doing when she heard a carriage coming towards the estate.

"What now?" She muttered, making a face at her half-finished painting, as if expecting it to answer her question. The carriage entered the gate, and Gwen knew it must belong to the Fancies. The Bennet's carriage was nowhere near as fancy.

The beautiful black horse pulling the vehicle was reined to a halt by a man in a crisp black suit, and the curtain covering the window was twitched to the side, revealing Caroline Bingley's dour face. Gwen smirked as she stood to greet them.

Both doors of the carriage opened, and all three of the Fancies unfolded themselves from its depths, Mr. Bingley Smiling widely, Caroline Bingley looking around with evident distaste, and Mr. Darcy looking impassive, as usual.

Gwen was not easily embarrassed. She knew Mr. Bingley wouldn't think her any worse for being covered in paint, and she didn't really care what Caroline Bingley thought, but when Mr. Darcy's eyes rested on her, she felt her cheeks heat. Why would Mr. Darcy, of all people, have that effect on her? He was a prick. Maybe not as bad as Greg had been – he didn't seem the rumour-spreading asshat type, but he wasn't someone she particularly wanted to get to know better either.

"Can I help you?" She asked, focussing her attention on Mr. Bingley, who was looking hopefully at the house. She could help but see from the corner of her eye that Caroline Bingley was practically plastered to Mr. Darcy's side. Ha. Ha. Jerk gets what he deserves.

Mr. Bingley tore his attention away from the house and smiled sheepishly at her. "We are sorry to intrude, but I would like to speak with Jane, if it wouldn't be any trouble." Gwen was about to say that it would be no trouble, when he continued, quite flustered. "And Mrs. Bennet, of course," he added, his ears and cheeks lighting up like stoplights.

Gwen smiled. "No trouble at all, Mr. Bingley. One sec, I'll go get them." They all looked extremely confused by 'just a sec,' much to Gwen's amusement. Not being sure where either person she was looking for was, she called their names, and when they didn't answer, she knocked on Mr. Bennet's study, and the door swung open. There was no one there, but she found that, while she couldn't see them through the open window, she could clearly hear Caroline Bingley's simpering voice.

"What on Earth does 'just a sec' mean?" Caroline left no space for a reply before she was on to Gwen's next fault. "Did you see the state of her? And did you see the paint on her face, Mr. Darcy?" She giggled. "She looked absolutely ridiculous." Gwen arched an eyebrow.

"To the contrary, I thought she looked quite attractive. Skill at painting as an admirable quality in a woman." Gwen's other eyebrow shot up to join its pair. She stifled a laugh and withdrew from the room, resuming her search for Jane and Mrs. Bennet.

Gwen cleaned up her paints and canvas while Mr. Bingley and the two Bennet's discussed the upcoming ball, which was now going to be held next week, and the Fancies left. Gwen and Jane smiled and waved politely at the carriage as it pulled out, Mrs. Bennet having already gone inside, all a-flutter about the upcoming party.

"Glad they're gone," Gwen said, sighing as she grabbed the not-quite finished painting from where she had set it.

"I thought that the visit went well!" Jane said, helping Gwen bring the piano stool back inside.

"You didn't hear what Caroline Bingley had to say about me," Gwen laughed. She explained what the woman had said, leaving out Mr. Darcy's comment. She wanted to decipher what he could have meant by it before she told Jane.

The blonde looked shocked at what the woman had said, and told Gwen, half-heartedly, that maybe she had misunderstood something Caroline had said, but Gwen just shook her head and smiled at Jane's naivety.

Gwen was sure she was the only person still up. Jane's breathing was slow and even, and the rest of the house was dead quiet except for Mr. Collins' wheezy snoring. It wasn't that late, only about ten thirty by Gwen's guess. She was still finding it hard to fall asleep with the sun like the rest of the Bennets. Electricity and light bulbs were hard to come by in the seventeenth century.

Gwen pulled her journal closer to the candle on her nightstand, quill in hand, inkpot resting on the stand where it was in no danger of spilling. She dipped the quill in the ink and started writing, pouring anything and everything she could think of onto the page. She liked to think that one day a historian or someone would find her journal, and she had filled up the first twelve pages of the book with details about herself, where she came from, her family, and how she got to the seventeen hundreds. Now, she was determined to document as much as she could in the rest of the journal. Maybe someone would find it.

A/N: Thanks for reading! Again, sorry for the delay .

Please review!