"A lady's imagination is very rapid; it jumps from admiration to love, from love to matrimony in a moment."

Jane Austen


The office was empty as Janie sat at her desk, typing away with her iPod in. Dido was blasting into her eardrums as she filled in form upon form of mundane purchase orders to be sent off to China, Russia and America. Janie's eyes had already begun to sting after the first three order forms. She rubbed her eyes tenderly and pushed her chunky black glasses back onto the bridge of her nose. Her little desk lamp wasn't of much use when it came to working late. It was dim and didn't help her sore eyes one bit. Due to that fact, she had barely noticed the glint of another lamp in the offices opposite her little cubicle, where Ed was currently hunched over his drawings probably making everything perfect before having Janie send them off to suppliers. Well, she had barely noticed the light but she had definitely noticed the exquisite form that was Ed Rochester.

He had been working late nights ever since Janie had begun working at Thornfield Enterprises. Every night he would be here, doing overtime, sitting at his desk in complete concentration with his pencil in hand and his computer screen blinking in the dimly lit office. Seeing Ed was mostly the reason that Janie worked overtime too, even if the incentive of double pay was in the deal. And partly because, as an orphaned only child with only an aunt who would bother to visit her occasionally but who in the end could barely tolerate her, Janie had nothing better to do than work. It was either work or go back home and sit with her cat, Adele, watching TV. And that wasn't the best option.

Yes, Janie would rather be at work, earning some more money to pay off her student debts and pay rent for her overly expensive yet rather dingy flat. Plus, it had the added bonus of seeing Edward without having the hustle and bustle of the office around them. It was silly of her, and she knew it, to be in love with a man who said about two words to her each day – 'hello' and 'goodnight' – and who had several phone calls a day, no doubt from some drop dead gorgeous model-like girlfriend. But Janie, on this account, could not be rational. Edward Rochester had fascinated her from day one. He was your typical average man, tall, lean and dark haired with no particular striking features. Yet, there was something, and Janie wasn't quite sure what, that drew her attention to him. There was almost an intense sadness about him that she could not quite help but be called to. She supposed that it was all down to her 'love of the downtrodden', as he aunt had called it. Janie had always been drawn to weak and defenceless creatures, to help them, to nurture them. Not that anything about Ed was weak or defenceless, but there was a need in her to help him. It was probably the reason also that she volunteered a lot with countless charities and groups. Some for mental health, others for children. Janie always wanted to do the right thing, and helping others was always the right thing in her book.

Quickly, realising the time, Janie grabbed her small and rather empty make-up bag and began to hurriedly apply some eye shadow to her large lids and lipstick to her small, pale lips. Right on cue, Ed's office light went out and she heard his footsteps moving closer to her desk. Having the cubicle right next to the exit meant that Ed would have to walk past to leave and usually he would say goodnight to her with a small smile on his lips.

Janie looked up as the footsteps drew closer and was surprised to see Ed standing close to her desk, not moving towards the exit. He was actually standing at her desk, behind her computer screen, staring unashamedly at her.

"Goodnight, Janie," he said looking down at her holding a rolled up drawing in his hand and his bag hung over his right shoulder.

Janie smiled rather shakily – she was still taken aback by his closeness – and replied like she would any other night, "Goodnight, Ed."

However, this was different than any other night because this time, Ed didn't walk away like he would do every night. No, instead, he stayed. His brow furrowed as if he was contemplating something. Janie smiled nervously and looked at the drawing rolled up in his hand.

"Is that for me?" she asked, nodding towards the paper. That seemed to get Ed out of his riven. He shook his head slightly dislodging a piece of brown hair from behind his ear that Janie had noticed could never be tamed, no matter how hard Ed pushed it back behind his ear every day. It would still escape. Janie thought it was the roguishness part of him refusing to be tamed. Or at least that's what she hoped it meant. Ed's mouth opened slightly revealing the whites of his bottom teeth. He looked as if he didn't know what he was doing.

"Yes." he said. When Janie stood to reach out for the paper she received an odd response. Ed backed away and then realised with wide eyes what she was reaching for, and then said (or rather shouted slightly) "No!"

Janie jumped at the rough tone and sat back down into her chair, an involuntary reaction.

Ed huffed out a breath and apologised, "Sorry, Janie, I hadn't heard you properly. I apologise for shouting at you, I didn't think it would come out that way." He held the drawing out slightly and continued, "This is homework, I'm afraid…I don't think it will be done for some time." He frowned again and stared down, "I need to get it perfect." He almost mumbled it.

Janie nodded and smiled slightly, "I understand." She knew, even if Ed didn't realise that she knew, that Ed could be very meticulous when it came to his drawings and his work. If it wasn't right, it wasn't right – he was a bit of a genius, and that's why Harry Bennet put up with him. Janie looked back at her computer screen with the illusion that she was continuing with work, however even that was difficult when she could still feel Edward's stare on her increasingly reddening cheeks.

"Do you find me handsome, Jane?" he asked inquisitively, shocking her almost out of her chair.

Immediately she answered, "No!" as she stared at him with her mouth gaping wide, doing a splendid job of impersonating a goldfish. Her mouth bobbed up and down like she was panting for air. And she was afraid that soon perhaps she would be. Right now, her lungs seemed to of stopped working out of sheering embarrassment. Of course she found him attractive. He was the only man that she did find attractive! She just couldn't tell him that.

Edward laughed suddenly easing her embarrassment. She smiled coyly and wished she could crawl under her desk and hide there. Of course, she at least tried to not let embarrassment show. "Not even a little bit?" he asked again, simply teasing her. Janie didn't quite know how to react. She looked down and smiled happily (and slightly deliriously) to herself.

"Ah, a true smile," he said grinned down at her. Again, that equally wiped the smile off Janie's face. However, Edward was not fazed and he simply stood there smiling. And then suddenly, from nowhere, his expression faltered and he grew morose. The lines in his forehead appeared and his dark eyes where intense and focused on something far, far away from the office and from Janie. And then he called her given name softly, "Jane," he said in that deep voice of his that could do very strange things to Janie's equilibrium. "I was wondering, if you would like to, perhaps on your day off, like to—"

Beep-Beep, Beep-Beep

Edward's phone had interrupted them. However, it was the look on Edward's face that Janie noticed, not the persistent, shrill ringtone. If he looked morose and contemplating before, Janie didn't know what his expression was now. It was downright self-loathing. He took his phone out of his back pocked with slow motions and sighed when he looked at the screen. It buzzed another two times and without saying anything he left, answering the phone as the office door hit him on the way out.


Darcy had been in a meeting for several hours with his cabinet this morning and when he came back to his office and shut the door, wanting to seal the outside world shut, he thought it would have stopped. But no, and who was he kidding, this was his job now. The country didn't work on the hours nine to five, it ran every day, all day. So why should it surprise him that, another two hours after that, he was currently discussing the President's visit with Gardiner.

"I'll deal with it, I'm sure." Darcy said as he guided Gardiner to his office door. The man was still discussing the problem (or soon to be problem) when Darcy held the door open, "When the time comes, we shall know how to act, but right now and until we hear the President's stance, there is little we can do but prepare."

Gardiner huffed at the thought of even hearing the President's stance. It was inevitably not going to be good for their future polices. "Well, Darcy, you have a fine head on your shoulders but you have yet to tangle with the President." He patted Will happily on the back and gave him a quizzical look, "Let us see how we fare."

With that, the door was shut and Darcy was in the peaceful sanctuary that was his solitary office again. He looked about the room and then collapsed into his chair, his body sagged and tired. And then there was a knock on his door again.

Sighing and pushing himself to sit up straight in the chair, Darcy murmured an "Enter" and watched the wooden door push open.

"Ah, Elizabeth," he said as he recognised the figure approaching his desk. She handed over a brown folder and nodded back, "Sir."

The fluttering feeling in Elizabeth's stomach, she noticed with annoyance, wouldn't go away when she looked at him. It was rather unnerving and slightly inappropriate to feel such things for her boss. And for that matter, the leader of the country, who by anyone's standards (well, that was someone who hadn't been brought up in boarding school or had tea with the Queen) was far out of her league. After all, she was just a simple girl who happened to be an intern in Downing Street. Elizabeth saw herself as nothing special, she went to University and was studying – but so were half the country. She was just a girl from a working class family. Who was she too fancy the PM?

Rebuking her stupid, foolish emotions, Elizabeth walked to the door as smoothly as she could without looking suspicious and opened the door. She heard a murmur of 'Thanks' from behind her and went to leave.

"Elizabeth, wait for a moment." Darcy wasn't sure what he was doing. All he knew was that he needed more time with her, more time to know her. She stopped and turned around to face him, her dainty hands placed over her abdomen. He moved to the front of his desk and leaned on it slightly, "Sorry, it's just, working in such close quarters and me barely knowing anything about you, seems very elitist to me and very wrong. Would you mind?" he asked, half hoping that she would somehow say no to his request – as he hadn't the foggiest idea what he was actually doing.

Elizabeth smiled, albeit reluctantly, "I don't mind. What would you like to know? There's not much really." She stepped forward back into the office and stood before his desk, and before Darcy himself. She hadn't really noticed how tall or lean his figure was until now as he leaned back against the mahogany desk. Tailored in fine pin-striped grey suit trousers, a bright white shirt and polished dark burgundy dress shoes, he looked the epitome of casual elegance. Elizabeth had noted over the weeks that William Darcy always looked elegant, but not in the slightest way did it take centre stage. Never was there a comment made about his dress sense, even though he was probably the best dressed of all British Prime Ministers from the beginning of time, but it was his dominate personality that caught the headlines. He was never one to back down, and he had already earned the name of "the Stag" by the public, hitting at the core of the country's problems and not backing down.

They had been standing (and leaning) for a short amount of time in silence, but Darcy felt like he would burst if she kept looking at him like that. With that certain glint in her eye that he couldn't quite place…

Right, Darcy thought, he needed questions. "Well, I remember Mrs Reynolds saying you were at University?" Elizabeth nodded. "What do you study?"

"Politics actually, sir." She smiled then and tucked a piece of brown hair behind her pierced ear. He smiled back, and at the coy gesture.

"Ah, got the bug have you?" Darcy knew all too well what a passion for politics meant and how easy it was to get caught up in it. "It's not an easy game, I tell you that, and not as half as glamorous. So, do you see yourself sitting here one day?" He gestured to the desk he was leaning on.

"Well," she said, "Perhaps in the chair." She joked and smiled tilting her head to side to look at the chair behind him. Darcy looked back and laughed, "Ah, well, yes perhaps not the desk."

Elizabeth was caught up slightly by Darcy's smile and the glint in his eye that only humour could bestow. It was truly a magnificent sight. He too was staring back, and she couldn't help but wonder what he was thinking – if he was thinking the same things about her as she was about him. If indeed he thought about her at all. Moments passed and neither had talked, both had just looked.

When Elizabeth realised this, she immediately began to speak, "Well, I don't think I would be cut out for the front role, all the responsibility. I would probably do best behind the scenes."

Darcy nodded. He looked at her for a long moment and then moved the conversation on, "Another question. Well, erm, I suppose where do you live would be a good one?"

Easy question, Elizabeth thought with an inner sigh. "Meryton. The dodgy end?" she said with a clear voice. Darcy wished he could listen to that clear accented voice more often. But that was a ridiculous thought. And certainly not likely to happen.

"Ah," Darcy said clicking his fingers together, recognising the place immediately, "My friend Charles lives in Netherfield, just around the corner from Meryton I believe."

"Oh right, yes that's right." It was a strange thought for Elizabeth to know that the Prime Minister with all his obvious upper-class upbringing had been around Meryton of all places…even Netherfield was borderline potential stabbing area for the unaware pedestrian.

"So which part of Meryton is the dodgy end?" Darcy asked, wondering if he would need to send Elizabeth home with a police escort if the place was that bad. He'd been there occasionally and had always managed to get lost – only for Charles to find him wandering aimlessly outside his next door neighbour's house. It wasn't exactly Darcy's fault, all the houses looked the bloody same around Meryton, it was a wonder that anyone found their way around there.

Elizabeth scrunched up her face slightly, her nose wrinkled at the bridge as she thought of an exact location that the Prime Minister would recognised just as easily as before. "Just off from the high street, Longborne Street, just past the Old Nag's head?"

Darcy nodded empathically, "Yes, that is dodgy." Perhaps two police escorts then…

Elizabeth made a little mummer of agreement in the back of her throat and made sure that her errant hair was tucked firmly behind her ears. It was a marvellous sound to Darcy's ears. And then the question that had been floating around in mind for the duration of their conversation was finally voice…thought not intentionally.

"And you live with someone…?" he asked, almost nonchalantly, "A boyfriend, husband…children?" God, why did he feel there was a golf ball stuck in his throat? He shifted slightly on his perched seat but he didn't look away from her.

It was here that Elizabeth shuffled slightly on her feet. He had made her uncomfortable. She looked down at her booted feet and shrugged, "Well it's the middle of my last term at university, so I'm back home for a while actually." He hadn't not noticed how she hadn't mentioned if she was attached or not. That irked him somewhat, that she had not truly answered his direct question, but in reality what really bothered him was thinking that this beautiful, clumsily charming woman in front of him was taken by another. He dared not admit it to himself though.

"Actually," she continued, this time looking point blank at him, almost with a curious expression. Elizabeth had no idea why she was going to tell him this, but some part of her wanted to see the Prime Minister's face when she did so, "I've just split up with my boyfriend, if you could even call him that. That's partly the reason I'm back at home. We lived together."

Darcy nodded, "Ah, sorry." He had said it out of curtsey, and he was truly upset by the mixed emotions he could see playing out over her face as she talked, but there was still the part (the very, very foolish part of him) that was so deliriously happy to hear that she was single.

"No, it's fine really," she reassured him, "He said I was getting fat, that I was letting myself go." She's said it with a hurt sting in her voice. She pulled her red cardigan around her waist as if to hide herself from view.

Darcy stood up, "I beg your pardon?" he said it with slight outrage in his voice that he couldn't even begin to hide. How could anyone think Elizabeth Bennet was anything but perfect – in any shape or form?

Noting the almost violent reaction from Darcy, Elizabeth looked down, his proximity befuddling her senses and continued, "He said that he couldn't be seen with me, not in the state I was in. That no one would look at him and think of him with potential employability if he had a girl with thighs the size of tree trucks on his arm." Elizabeth smiled sadly and shrugged, "Wasn't a very nice guy in the end."

Darcy was seething. He held his composure and turned away from Elizabeth to sit back at his desk. Elizabeth was wondering what was going on with Prime Minister. It wasn't good whatever was going on in his mind. She backed away slightly and headed towards the door. How foolish could she have been to share with the Prime Minister the sordid details of her love-life? Feeling utter and foolishly stupid, Elizabeth held her head up slightly, refusing to acknowledge her folly. When she was almost at the door, the Prime Minister spoke up; "Elizabeth," he said, making her turn her head to face him. His face was unreadable, and what he said next made her surprising laugh out-right, "I could have him murdered." He smiled slightly (almost joking) and tilted his head waiting for a response.

Elizabeth smiled brightly and fully. Darcy couldn't' believe the beauty of her rosy cheeks over her fair skin, or the dimples it created at the sides of her mouth. "Thank you, sir," she said with a nod of the head, "I'll think about it."

Darcy nodded and gave her leave to go. For what seemed like the umpteenth time, he watched as she slid out of the room and closed the door behind her.

Immediately after the door clicked shut, his head fell to the desk. With a groan he banged his head twice on the hard surface. Why, had he even said that? Promising murder (even if in a jovial way) was not how Prime Ministers were meant to use their power.

He turned his head, his left cheek still flattened on the desk, making his normally sharp features all squidgy and flat. Looking around he spotted the Iron Lady, Margaret Thatcher, staring down at him with knowing eyes. "Did you have this kind of problem?" he asked, his words being muffled by the wooden desk. She looked at him blankly, Darcy sighed, "Course you did, you saucy minx."


A/N: Sorry guys that it's been a while. Thing, like always in my life, are pretty hectic. I'm juggling this writing malarkey and then lectures, work and the impending doom that is ESSAY DEADLINES! ARGHHHHH *cowers in corner, rocking with textbook.*Anyway, I haven't really had time to read through this and I haven't posted anything in a while so I'm really sorry if there's mistakes. I'm sure you can forgive me? :D So, enjoy, review and spread the word of Austen! Oh, also, new followers, I'd like to say Hi to – so yeah, Hi and hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoy writing it.