Author's Note: Thank you, thank you, thank you for all of those that reviewed. I am so very grateful. You have no idea. I love Jane Austen and was having a writer's block in an original piece I'm working on and thought this would be a great outlet for me at the moment. Thank you guys so much again. Please keep reading and definitely keep letting me know what you think. Well wishes to you all--licensetowrite

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Elizabeth Bennet….

I was shaking when I left his office from the deluge, from the mindless argument that had, all in all, gone nowhere. My fault really. And now, he even knew how I drank my coffee. Too personal for my liking. Uggghhhhh!

"I'm beginning to think that I misjudged you the first time that we met, Lizzie." A voice remarked behind me and I made a face at the thin air before turning around to face Jane.

"Would it make you feel better if I told you that I think I misjudged myself as well. Here I thought I was a level-headed, think-through a situation kind of person and here I find I'm short-tempered and sarcastic. What a revelation." I commented shortly before realizing that the outer office was fuller than usual and that half the eyes in it were on me. I looked back at Jane and she shrugged.

"Mr. Darcy really should think about investing in sound proof windows and doors." She replied sheepishly as I felt the undeniable pink flush of embarrassment begin to creep up my neck. A hand landed on my shoulder.

"I wouldn't worry about it too much, Ms. Bennet. You have no idea how many times we all silently cheered for you in there. Talk about tension." A smiling Charlotte murmured while I wished desperately for a hole to open up in the floor so that I could fall through it. Damn the man! Jane just laughed.

"I'm impressed that you can quote Linda Blair." She stated as I threw her a look that could turn a corpse into ash.

"Bite me, Jane." I remarked before marching through the office toward the exit. If we were leaving on the morrow, I suppose I needed to be ready. Several people gave me the thumbs up sign and I blushed harder. I was not easily embarrassed, but well…something strange had happened in that office—something I was really having a hard time defining. What it was...that's another thing entirely. If I was being truly honest with myself, I would have called it flirting or maybe even that impossible thing called desire. But, hey, I was enjoying lying to myself instead. I didn't want to analyze the situation. The building's re-enforced doors closed behind me as I finally stepped out into the fresh, almost heavy British air before beginning to walk towards Longbourn. Yes, walk. I needed the time to figure things out. And that's when I realized something else. I enjoyed the walk. Walking home in the countryside wasn't like walking home in the big city. It was comfortable, peaceful—communal. It caused me to relate to that need Henry David Thoreau seemed to inhabit where you just disappear into the wilderness and observe its many facets. Truth is, peace brings forth realization. I smiled to myself as I went, ignoring the few cars that did pass me on the road until Longbourn came into view and then I sighed. My family.

"Off work already? You didn't lose your job, did you?" Mama asked as I entered the house. Why the hell was she awake? I shook my head.

"No, mama, I didn't lose my job. I have to pack to go out of town. Mr. Darcy needs me in Italy for the week to help settle some problems they're having there." I remarked off-handedly before heading toward the stairs. I could hear Lydia and Kitty yelling at each other while Mary tried playing the estate's grand piano very badly. Ouch! And then mama screeched.

"Italy? Alone? Tell me that you won't be alone with that horrid man! Did you know that Ms. Dane, she works here at the estate, told me that she heard from the maid that the maid heard from Mr. Darcy's driver that the man actually thought this family was below social standings in behavior and that we should really think about drinking out of the trough with the other horses and mules? How insulting is that? Well, we don't need approval from that bull-headed antagonist….." Mama spouted off as I finally held up my hand in the classic 'shushing' gesture. She didn't even blink so I merely interrupted.

"That bull-headed antagonist is my boss, mama, and we won't be alone. The Bingleys and Jane Houston will be going on the trip as well." I commented before trying once again to make it up the stairs. Mama clapped.

"Mr. Bingley! Now that is a fine specimen of a man! You should try for sympathy points. Get sick on the trip, trip, break a leg…something as long as you garner a little attention from him. The man's rolling in money and he's always so…happy!" Mama exclaimed as I rolled my eyes and sighed.

"I have no designs on that man, mama. He's not even my type." I replied as she laughed.

"Pish, posh! You don't even have a type, Lizzie. Don't be so naïve." Mama stated cheerfully as she followed me closely up the stairs. There were days like this when I couldn't help but wonder how justifiable the homicide would be if I tripped suddenly and shoved the woman backwards. I know, I know. Really, I loved her and she really did love me in her own unique way, but she was also the type of person who had one of those overwhelming personalities. The kind you laughed at but made sure you ducked away from when you saw them coming around the corner. You know, right up there with Bozo the clown and Homer Simpson. Why did Marge stay with that man anyhow?

"Let it go, mama! I have too much on my plate right now." I provided defiantly, hoping I suppose that she would take the hint and back off. Nope, not my mother. She just scoffed.

"There is always enough room on the plate for dessert and that man Bingley can definitely be considered dessert.." She remarked before smacking her lips together in adoration. I stopped in mid-stride.

"Mama!" I exclaimed before raising one of my brows and giving her a look that said 'that's enough.' She shrugged as I turned on my heels, marched into the room I was staying in, and slammed the door soundly in her face. I loved her, but today was not a day that I could deal with her. The phone rang just as I made it over to my bed and I picked it up carefully.

"Hello." I answered quickly while leaning over to grab the suitcase I had shoved underneath the bed. The voice on the other line hesitated.

"Lizzie, it's Charlotte Lucas. I've been really battling with myself about whether or not I should tell you this and have decided that it may be for the best—that you can sort of walk into the fray with your guns fully loaded…" She began and the more she talked, the higher my blood pressure went, the angrier I became, and the more vengeful I found myself.