A/N: I don't own Pride and Prejudice. I do, however, enjoy taking liberties with the plot. And I love all my reviewers. Thank you so much!


I can't imagine what the world of Jane Austen would have been like if Mrs. Jennings or Mrs. Bennet had access to Facebook. They would have been constantly stalking the various characters of their novels. The poor Bennet girls never would have gotten married because Charles Bingley never would have wanted to married a woman whose mother was constantly stalking him and examining every aspect of his personal life online. In my personal life, I know a family where the mother uses Facebook to examine every aspect of her children's lives. She scared a really great guy out of her daughter's life with her constant stalking and prying. Her second oldest daughter steadfastly refuses to ever get a Facebook account because she values her privacy and doesn't want her mother examining every aspect of her life. That's how Mrs. Bennet would parent.

Parents need to stop invading their children's lives. My stepmother micromanages every detail of my stepsister's life and watching them drives me insane. Watching them reminds me of Lady Catherine DeBourgh and her daughter, Anne. My stepmother has conditioned her poor daughter to believe that she has poor health and can't hold a job in the real world or function the way normal, healthy people function. My stepsister is in her late twenties and has a graduate degree but she just works as her mother's secretary because her mother has her convinced that's all she can do. That is a Lady Catherine DeBourgh parent.

From "Finding Austen Characters in the Real World," a April 30, 2010 post on Mark F. Williamson's blog "Literary World Views"


Chapter Nine


"Something's wrong. You're sitting at work on a Thursday afternoon knitting socks," a voice said from behind me as I sat in the Knit 'n' Lit's only rocking chair. "You never knit socks at work if you can help it."

"Hey, Mark," I said without looking up. I recognized both the voice and the sense of humor. It was a few days after I'd learned of Carlye's wedding and I still hadn't told Mark. Lucas had flat-out refused to go to the wedding, telling his sister that he loved her but he didn't support her and therefore could not and would not attend her wedding. The rest of their family was going however. And all the tension was stressing me out. So I was knitting socks at work. Oh, and Jamie wasn't going to the wedding. It was just me. So I was knitting socks at work.

"Are you all right?" he asked, sitting down next to me.

"You shouldn't complain about me knitting socks at work. They're for you."

Mark sighed. "But you're acting like you're stressed, Betsy. What's up?"

"Can we talk about this at home? It's not really public knowledge yet."

"Sure, but you actually have to talk. You can't just tell me we'll talk about it later and then not do it."

I smiled. "I promise I'll tell you at home."

"When will you be home tonight?"

"Nine-thirty," I replied. "It's a Thursday."

"Do you want me to pick you up?" Mark had taken to driving me to and from work when I would be coming or going in the dark. There wasn't much space for parking near the shop, so I usually just walked from the apartment. It was about a thirty minute walk but Mark didn't like me making it in the dark. I understood that. And I appreciated the ride when it was cold and dark. Early February guaranteed me cold and dark. But Mark's Ford Escape (Hybrid, of course) parked outside of the Knit 'n' Lit at 9:29 guaranteed me a warm five-minute drive home. And then there was usually dinner waiting for me when we got inside.

"I'm working with Jamie," I replied.

"I'll pick you up at nine-thirty," he said.

I smiled. "Thanks. Are you sticking around today?"

He shook his head. "No, I have a department meeting at five and then I'm having dinner with a couple of professors. Then I'll pick you up around nine-thirty. And then we can watch Bones and The Office off the TiVo."

"Does that mean that I won't have a homemade dinner waiting for me when I get home?"

"Sorry," he replied. "But it looks like you're going to have to rough it for one week. But you're a big girl, Betsy. And I think you'll make it."

I pouted for about half a minute but then we both laughed. "I'll live. I'll just make macaroni and cheese."

"And I'll eat half the pot," he replied with a smile. Then he glanced at his watch. "I should get going. But I'll see you at nine-thirty."

"Enjoy your meeting," I replied.

He stuck out his tongue and walked out.


"Well, aren't you two just the old married couple?" Jamie teased when I went over to the counter a few minutes later.

I laughed. "I prefer to think of us as Abbott and Costello."

"Nah, you're definitely Lucy and Dezi."

"What are you trying to say about me, Malloy?"

He laughed. "Nothing big, I'm just saying that you're crazy."

"And Mark is Cuban?"

"What are you saying about Mark Cuban?" Lucas said walking out of the office. He was wearing his coat and carrying his backpack, which meant that he was heading home.

"Absolutely nothing," Jamie replied. "I'm just comparing Betsy and Mark to Lucy and Dezi while she's comparing them to Abbott and Costello."

Luke shook his head. "Nah, I see them more as Laurel and Hardy."

Jamie looked at me. "I'm not getting that vibe at all. Maybe they're the Odd Couple."

"Felix and what's his face?"

Jamie nodded. "Yeah, them; Betsy, you guys are definitely Felix Unger and What's-His-Face from The Odd Couple."

"You know what? I was just thinking."

"Sounds painful," Luke quipped.

I rolled my eyes. "So the Harry Potter books would have been so much funnier if they'd called Lord Voldemort 'What's-His-Face' instead of 'He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named' or 'You Know Who.'"

"You should tell J.K. Rowling," Luke replied. "But right now, I'm going to bust this pop stand and go out on a date."

"With whom, may I ask?" I asked.

"Maeve Pierson, you've never met her."

"No, but I want to," I replied.

"I'll consider the possibility." And then he left, with a smile.


At nine-thirty, Jamie and I locked the front door of the shop and said "good night" to each other. Then he went around to the back of the building to go to the upstairs apartment. I walked to the parking lot and Mark's waiting Escape. "Watch your feet," he said as I climbed into the car.

I looked and saw a bag from the Macaroni Grill sitting there. "Is that for me?" I asked.

"It's a distinct possibility. Now buckle your seatbelt."

"Thank you, Magic Eight Ball."

He smiled and began driving home.


Home was an apartment, as I've said, but I don't think I've described our apartment before now. We lived in a duplex on the top floor. The bottom floor was occupied by a young family; the father was working on his PhD in philosophy and his wife was raising their two young children. Our apartment was reached by an external staircase. Upon entering, you were in the kitchen. We had a large kitchen with a table that Carlye and I had bought when we were in college. Mark put the bag from the Macaroni Grill there and hung up his coat on one of the hooks by the door. Then, he turned right and went into the living room, a small but cozy room with very comfortable furniture. From there, he went into his own bedroom, which I jokingly called "The Man Cave."

I turned left and went into my bedroom. If I had gone straight, I would have been in our bathroom. Our bathroom was spectacular. It was spacious and surprisingly pretty. And Mark let me burn candles so that it always smelled like cinnamon in the bathroom. I put down my purse and my bag filled with my knitting before changing into my pajamas. Then, I grabbed my knitting and went back into the living room where Mark was now setting up the TiVo. "I put your dinner in the microwave. It should be ready any second now."

"Thanks," I said. "So what did you get me?"

"Chicken marsala," he replied. "I figured you could eat some tonight and take the rest to work with you tomorrow."

I grinned. "You're awesome."

"I try. Now will you please tell me why you're stressed?"

I sighed. "It's complicated."

"I figured that much when you wouldn't talk to me at work."

After getting my food and a glass of wine from the kitchen, I told him. "Carlye's pregnant and she's getting married."

"To the guy your mom wanted you to marry?" he asked. I'd told him about Justin.

I nodded. "And Lucas is angry and has promised her that he won't come to the wedding."

"I'm sorry."

I looked at him. "I just don't get it. Why is she doing this? She started dating him four months ago. Now she's pregnant and they're getting married. How does this make sense? Why do people do stupid things?"

He shook his head and turned off the TV. I was eating and talking and I probably looked like a mess. I didn't care. Mark knew what I was and I had no interest in impressing him. This man wasn't about to fall head over heels in love with me and propose marriage to me.

I looked over at our coffee-table, which was currently playing host to my glass of white zinfandel, Mark's glass of water, a purple candle, Mark's copy of War and Peace, my copy of Les Miserables, Mark's copy of A Tale of Two Cities that he's using for an article that he's writing, and a purple box of Kleenex. It must say something about us that we have three of the most famous books of the nineteenth century just sitting around our apartment.

Mark pulled a Kleenex out of the box and handed it to me. "Here," he said with a smile. "I can't answer your questions but I can give you booze and chocolate and tissues."

I blew my nose and smiled. "I just don't understand Carlye. She's been my best friend other than Jenna for ages and now I don't know what she's thinking at all. Why is she so gung-ho about getting married and having a baby with some guy she just started dating four months ago? Isn't that a little fast? Doesn't that scream desperate?" I shook my head. "We used to tell each other everything. And then we grew up."

"I don't think that's what happened."

"Nope, she outgrew me."

Mark was trying hard not to smile. "You, dear girl, do not need that wine," he said, before basically chugging my glass of wine. He swallowed and then continued. "You are far too emotional for alcohol. What you need is a nice cup of tea."

"Thanks, Grandma," I said.

The smile won out. "Keep venting. I'm just going to put the water on to boil."

I sighed. "I just miss high school when she used to tell me everything. And I don't know why she left the shop. And I don't know how I'm going to get to the wedding. I can't afford to buy a new dress and buy a plane ticket to St. Paul and rent a hotel room. I just have no freaking clue what I'm going to do."

"I could drive you," he replied.

"What?"

"The wedding is March 5, yes?"

I nodded.

"Okay, so here's the deal. February 27, I'm driving to Minnesota to see Jules, my mom, and my mom's family. I'll be there until March 7. You can sit in the passenger seat of the Escape, have complete control of the radio, and talk to me for thirteen or fourteen hours. Then, you can crash in my mom's guest room for a week and then go to the wedding on Friday night. And then we can rinse and repeat on the way home."

"Will you be my date to the wedding?" I asked. "Pretty please?"

He laughed. "If you want me do, then I'd be honored."

"Okay, you'll have to dress sharp."

"I think I have a suit and a tie hanging around here someplace."

"Thanks," I said following him into the kitchen. "You really don't have to do this."

"Repeat that again after you've spent a week in the same house as my mom, Jules, Scarlett, Iris, and Violet. Sebastian and Roger will leave you alone but the girls are going to love you and want you to marry me."

"I should be fine. I just need to get through this wedding and hope to God that she doesn't want me to be the baby's godmother."

"Oh come on! Being a godparent is fun."

"You're a godparent?"

"To my friend Rich's son," he replied.

I leaned against the doorframe. "You've never told me about this."

"Rich and Angie got married about three years ago and Matthew was born in July. And he is the world's cutest godson."

"I bet," I replied. "So do you see him very much?"

"Every month or so, they live in Grand Rapids."

"Are you serious? That's really great for you. Your godson is born in July in Grand Rapids and then you get a job in Ann Arbor. That's really convenient."

He laughed. "I did apply to four universities in Michigan hoping to be near Rich and Angie. And if I was in Ann Arbor, I could live with Kevin and Emily, which seemed like a great idea at the time. Plus, I didn't have anything really keeping me at Vanderbilt."

"So are you going to stay here after this year?"

"At U of M?" he asked.

I nodded.

"Yeah, I like the school. Your dad is a great department head and I love the students here. They're genuinely interested in the material. I really love being here. And I have a great roommate."

"So do you want to stay here for good, like beyond subleasing from Carlye?"

"The lease isn't up for renewal until July but I guess so. I really like the apartment and you're a better roommate than Kevin or Emily or a random guy named Merrimack from the Philippines."

"Merrimack from the Philippines?" I asked.

"My roommate last year in Nashville," he replied as he gave me a mug of peppermint tea. "Merrimack is really great but he didn't make me socks."

I laughed. "Is this your way of making me feel better about the fact that Carlye is getting married after only dating Justin for like four months?"

"No," he replied. "This is more about the fact that you don't want to be their baby's godmother because you hate Justin."


"So, I have a question for you," Lucas asked me the following Monday. We were working together.

"What's up?"

"Is anything going on with you and Jamie?"

"We went on a couple of dates at the beginning of January but he hasn't said anything about dates or anything like that in a couple of weeks."

"Weird," he said. "I guess I thought you guys had something good going there."

"Maybe we're not supposed to be together. Maybe we grew apart. Maybe he's not comfortable with my current roommate."

"Possibly," Lucas replied, semi-cryptically. "Do you think that you two have a future?"

"I like him. He is one of my best friends-regardless of our relationship. But I don't know if we could get married and make it work until death do us part. I'm not sure that's what either of us wants of the other anymore. Why are you asking me anyway?"

He shrugged. "He's my roommate. You're my business partner and one of my oldest friends. I'm just curious. I want what's best for both of you."

"Got it," I replied. I paused for a moment and then surged ahead. "Luke, do you want what's best for your sister?"

"Carlye?" he asked. "Yeah, that's why I don't want her to marry Justin and have a kid with him."

"I don't want her to do that either but I still love her-no matter what she does. And I want her to be happy."

"But can he really make her happy?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. She certainly seems to think so. And since we love her, shouldn't we support her in her decision to get married and do what she thinks will make her happy?"

"I want to be happy but that doesn't mean that I'm going to her wedding. I don't like Justin and I don't trust him with my sister. Ergo, I am not going to their wedding. I'm not going to stand there and smile while I watch my sister throw her life away. You can do what you want. I'm not getting involved in that situation."

"You're her brother," I said, trying to remain calm.

"Did Carlye put you up to this?"

I shook my head. "I just wanted to talk to you. That's all. And I'll leave it alone now. I'll accept the fact that you aren't comfortable and don't want to go to the wedding."

"Thank you."


Two days after that exchange, Jamie walked into the shop during the afternoon shift. I was teaching an after-school knitting class for children and Mercy was working behind the counter. After my class ended, I went over to Jamie who was perusing the books. "What brings you in on your day off?" I asked him.

"I wanted to ask you something."

"Shoot."

"Why did Lucas ask me if we were going to get back together?"

I shook my head. "He asked me about it the other day too."

"Oh," Jamie said. "I thought maybe you put him up to it."

"Nope, I'm just as clueless as you are."

"Do you think he wants us to get back together?"

I shrugged. "Do you want us to get back together?"

"I kind of do," he replied. "But only if you're interested; if you're not, I'm totally willing to back off and vanish."

As he looked at me, expecting an answer, Mark walked into the shop. And with him came a blast of cold air and confusion.


A/N: Please review! And I know that the blog post from Mark's blog doesn't make a lot of sense with this chapter. But it's there. And I promise that it will make more sense eventually.