So I can't say I've ever had the pleasure of crack cocaine, but I swear to god reading the reviews from all of you has got to be a better high. I'd almost forgotten how much they make me smile from ear to ear! I will reply to as many as possible in my next update and set about correcting any mistakes and typos you guys picked up (thanks as ever for keeping me on my toes and on the straight and narrow - after months of looking at these chapters, they're inevitably filled with them!). For the moment, however, I'll give you the next dose - a present to all of you wonderful wonderful readers. You keep the writers writing, so please enjoy the fruits of your labour :) x

George Wickham was having a fucking awful day.

For one, Mattie had found him balls deep inside a girl he'd picked up from the club last night. The drunken wretch had waited for his shift to end and had quickly and easily followed him back to Mattie's place, where her pants ended up on the floor and her ankles round her ears. Unfortunately, in his state, George had lost track of the hour and Mattie's night shift came to a graphic end as she walked in to find their bed more than occupied.

He'd managed to throw the girl out and beg forgiveness, claiming his comedown had fucked his senses and of course he'd always been hallucinating about her. However, he was walking on serious broken glass and needed to be on his best behaviour from now on if she was still going to let him crash there. If there was one thing George hated, it was being forced into good behaviour.

His day only got worse when he ran into Jimbo: an angry man with a debt to settle and an eagerness to collect. Though George had had every intention of sending his bar earnings Jimbo's way, the thought hadn't quite made it into practice. In fact, he had somehow spent more than he'd earned this week. To appease the increasingly irate dealer, he'd promised he'd have the first instalment this weekend, fuck knows how. All he knew was if he didn't get it, things that had always been precious to George would find themselves broken – namely limbs.

The only option was to put his plans for Lizzy into action. He needed higher paying work than bar shifts; he needed a modelling job. If he couldn't convince her to speak for him within the next week, perhaps he could take matters into his own hands somehow. But if he could seduce her, reduce her to a useful asset… he could borrow and beg from her what he needed, with a pound of flesh as interest. It was vital that she succumbed to his charms as soon as possible.

Taking one last look in the mirror with a smile at what he saw, he slapped Mattie on the arse and disappeared out the door. Things could only get better.

Sanders deserved a raise. He hadn't hesitated for a moment after Lizzy and Jane spoke to him of Wickham, didn't blink an eye at the idea of tending bar by himself for a bit if it meant getting rid of 'scum like that'. Sander's first priority would always be protecting Qandisa and his family under its roof.

With that in mind, it was decided that they would give George notice tonight and get him out as soon as possible. Whilst Sanders would make do with himself for the time being, the sisters would do what they could to alleviate the burden – from serving drinks when it got busy to searching out a replacement. As for what they would say to George…

"Can't we just tell him to fuck off?"

Lizzy grinned wryly at Sanders, the anger quietly rolling off him.

"Tempting as it would be" she said, winking at him from the bar stool she swivelled on, "we have to be as professional as possible. We don't want anything to suggest we know his history – it may well tip him into unpleasantness."

"Could we say that Dave's injury isn't as bad as we thought, and he's hoping to return next week?" Jane said, though not with the greatest conviction.

"I'm not sure we can believably magic away a broken limb Janey. How about telling him we know someone, a family friend or somesuch, who's willing to take the job on for free to repay a favour? He's hardly going to ask more, and if he does, we'll just think on our feet."

The other two considered the idea for a moment, before Sanders nodded.

"I can't see the problem with that. We just need him to believe it for the notice he has. Then who gives a shit what he believes?"

"Okay, I think that seems sound." Jane chimed in, feeling a little lighter now a plan was made. "In the meantime you know to keep a close eye on him right?"

"Of course Miss Jane." Sanders said, a glint in his eye for the boss that caused Lizzy to chuckle.

"Now all I have to do is the unpleasant part of informing him." Jane sighed.

"I can be there when you do, if you want. I'd rather any irritation was directed at the two of us than just you." Lizzy added, a hand making its way to grab her sister's.

"Thanks Lizzy. I think it would be better just coming from me, but I'll see how I feel when the time comes. I was thinking of talking to him after shift tonight."

"Agreed. Until then, lets act like nothing's changed. Just your usual day at the swirling cabaret." She grinned, high fived Sanders, kissed Jane's cheek, hopped off her stool and went to find Denny.

"What do you fancy doing tonight then little one?"

"Fitz, you know I'm no longer that little." Giana replied with an arched eyebrow.

"You will always be little to me Gi. Both in age and height." He added with a grin.

"Just because you're nearing seven foot three or whatever it is these days…" She mumbled, causing Graves to chuckle in the driver's seat. "I'll have you know I'm above the average female height."

"Alright shortie, I'm sorry." He ruffled her pixie locks, which didn't help her scowl to move. "But seriously, what do you fancy doing, just us two?"

Giana sat back in the warm leather seat, pondering over it. She was actually knackered – no doubt a result of her late night waiting up for Will – but refused to waste too much time sleeping. It was rare that they got time just the two of them, and she had a feeling the possibility was about to become a lot less likely. What she wanted more than anything was an evening of reacquainting and reminiscence.

"I'd like to have one of our nights." She decided with a small smile. "I'd like us to play some music together, make something appallingly calorific and eat it straight from the bowl whilst watching a host of eighties classics."

His smile broadened, beaming face clear in the passing streetlights. "I haven't played since you left Gi, the music room must be covered with dust."

"Even more reason for us to get it and you back into shape. Mr Hargreaves would be rolling in his grave if he knew you'd stopped practicing."

"Ah but you forget, lil' sis; old Hargreaves gave up on me the moment he heard you play. I have no doubt the beauty of your playing would lull him back to peaceful slumber."

"Is that a yes?" she grinned.

"Do you even need to ask?"

"And a good evening to you, Lizzy. How's your night going?"

Lizzy turned to see George Wickham, arm on the frame of the dressing room door, ready smile on his lips aimed directly at her. It was the first time she'd seen him since hearing Will and Giana's story and he appeared charming and relaxed as ever, not a care in the world. He was entirely the worst kind of evil; one that looked spectacularly normal. It was little wonder a young woman could so easily be taken in by him. Lizzy, however, was not a little girl without full knowledge of the facts, knowledge that only made her wish the night and his contract would end quicker.

"It's okay, thank you. I'm a little tired, but nothing I can't handle." She replied easily, turning back to the mirror to continue painting her lips.

"Tut tut, burning the candle at both ends, were we?"

He said it so casually, an added wink for good measure, but all she could pick up was the creepy, underlying suggestiveness. Unfortunately for George, his comment had quite the opposite effect to the one he intended; rather than his own flirtations, his comment cast her mind back to the fun of her day. Thoughts of Darcy, latex and unbridled lust drew a small smirk across her face.

"Yeah, something like that."

George wasn't totally sure if the resulting smile was for him, but his hesitation came only for a moment before he ploughed on, sidling into the room toward her. He was determined to get out of the conversation what he came for.

"Well, that's what you get for having two jobs on the go. It'll be nice for you when the modelling takes off and you wont have to rely on this." He cast a glance around him. "How is the Coco shoot going?" he asked, sitting on the sofa.

Lizzy decided it wasn't worth picking on his seeming dig at her job and her livelihood – she'd already wasted enough energy on him. She had, however, entirely forgotten telling him about Coco and now wished she hadn't. The treasured something she was so excited about somehow seemed sullied by his asking.

"Nothing much since we last spoke, just the usual slow decision-making towards an actual shoot." This time she didn't even turn to him.

"Ah of course, the search for Adam and a snake."

She couldn't resist. "Actually I think we've found the snake."

She did her best to keep her tone and smile neutral, a wide smile glinting on the inside.

"But no Adam?" He continued, oblivious. "How are they going to go about casting; through Coco itself or your agent?"

Again, such studied nonchalance, but there it was; a flicker in those eyes. He was once again fishing for information.

"I don't know to be honest. I should probably ask."

"Well, feel free to recommend any out-of-work male models that you know!" he winked once more as he stood, a repetition that didn't do him any favours. "After all, I'd say we already work well together. It would be great to see more of you and be part of your new career journey."

His eyes quickly took her figure in, but not quick enough. Lizzy clenched her fist yet chuckled in response, biding time as she searched for an appropriate and non-committal reply.

"I'm a little too new to make casting demands, don't you think? I've only just managed to get myself hired, never mind someone else. But, should they ever ask…"

She trailed off, determined to never actually offer him what hoped. It was apparently good enough for him though, as he smiled broadly and thanked her.

"You're a true wonder, Lizzy. Best boss in the world. Now I better get back to the bar before my other boss hears of my favouritism…"

He waved and blew a kiss goodbye, before disappearing out the door. Lizzy's mouth changed from smile to grimace, feeling like she'd tasted something particularly foul that she couldn't quite wash from her mouth. Everything about him made her feel grimy, from his words to his looks to his actions. And did people really wink and blow kisses like that nowadays? It was so unbelievably hammy.

There was however one benefit to their conversation. At least now his motives with her were clear; he was angling for her help in modelling jobs. Well, she would recommend him over her dead body. Apart from the fact he was serpentine to the core, he was in no way perfect enough for the role of the first man, made in the image of a God. Frankly, there was only one person in the whole world who fit that bill and sadly he was a little out of Coco's price range… but not Lizzy's, she grinned brilliantly. No, she might not get to work with him but she got to be with him; a far rarer and more precious privilege.

She let the silly smile settle only for a minute, before she finally realised what she was doing and shook it off. Elizabeth Bennet did not daydream and moon over men, no matter how beautiful they were. Tutting at herself, she turned back to her make up, determined to focus on the upcoming performance on stage and not the most recent one on her living room floor.

Giana was asleep. He'd long been able to tell when she'd dozed off, even without looking at her – it had been ingrained from many years of sibling parenting. Her head flopped to the side with her arms still wrapped round the bowl of hastily made chocolate and marshmallow crispies, the light of the now muted TV illuminating the darkened room. They were still halfway through Empire Records having already polished off The Breakfast Club, but two films proved too much 80's even for her.

Will rubbed his eyes feeling equally as knackered. Paris, work, travel, emotional turmoil, late nights and early mornings had officially done him in. Whilst part of him longed to go to Elizabeth, he knew he'd never make it to Qandisa awake. On top of that, he really had ignored DC work for far too long and needed to begin first thing tomorrow. Much as he'd like to act his age for once, he was the president of the company and Elizabeth's thighs had already turned out to be too much of a distraction; he would have to settle for only his dreams tonight.

He stood and stretched, gently lifted the bowl from Giana's hands and turned off the television. With only a small lamp shining in the darkness, he nudged his baby sister.

"Gi… go to bed."

She groaned and drifted down further into the comfort of the sofa.

"Giana, you're going to regret sleeping here in the morning."

She shook her head and clamped her eyes tighter.

"Do you need me to pick you up and carry you like a child?" He watched as her arms lifted upwards in response. "You've got to be kidding…"

The arms stayed where they were, insistent, and Will rolled his eyes. Leaning down, he shifted his arms underneath her and lifted.

"Jesus Gi, you're a lot heavier than when you were 13." He grunted, heaving her upwards and towards the door. "How can such a tiny woman weigh so much?" He was rewarded with a half-hearted whack on his head as he made his way to the hall. "What the hell have you been eating in Oxford? Maybe you should lay off the paneer curries a little…"

"You suck." She mumbled grouchily, yet showed no signs of movement. "Maybe you're just getting weaker."

By the time he'd made it upstairs and flung her unceremoniously on her bed, he'd 'accidentally' knocked her head and feet on at least two doorframes and a banister.

"I hope you don't treat Lizzy like this" she grouched from her pillow, rubbing her head. "I'm never letting you do that again."

"Good. If you carry on eating like you do, I probably wont be able to lift you in a couple of months anyway" he added, heading for the door.

"Oh shuddup old man."

He chuckled, hand around the doorknob as he pulled her door to, but halted as her small sleep-filled voice came again.

"Love you Fitz."

He looked down at the little blonde figure, his entire family of one hidden under a yard of duvet. He now relied on this big little sister more than she did him; it was a humbling thought, but a good one.

"Love you too Gi, always. Goodnight."

Closing the door, Will headed to his own room, fired off a short, sweet message to Elizabeth, and crashed onto his bed. With a last smile, without so much removing his clothes or brushing his teeth, he fell into a much needed sleep, a family of three dancing in his dreams.

Elizabeth stood outside Jane's office door, bundled up in her winter street clothes, listening and waiting. They had decided, after Lizzy's unusual worries got the best of her, that Sanders would sit in on Wickham's dismissal meeting, and now the three of them had been in there for ten minutes.

She wasn't one for biting her nails, but Lizzy's hands fluttered nervously at her sides, in her hair, with her bag. Sure, she wasn't known for her behind the scenes managerial expertise, but how long did a 'sorry, goodbye' have to take? After tonight, she wanted this over and done with, the last image of his sorry arse thrown out the door to be burned in her retinas.

He had approached her twice more in the night – once more before her set to bring her an hibiscus margarita that she'd never asked for, which, despite the temptation, she reluctantly poured into the sink just in case and after to mention once more his modelling expertise, eyes suspiciously bloodshot. If that wasn't enough, the looks he'd given during her song had made her wish she'd been wearing her current clothes, or maybe a burka. The leering would have been distracting if she hadn't shaken it off and immersed herself in the crowd, with peppered images of Darcy to help along the way.

She had spent the rest of the evening doing her best to avoid him, though still getting cornered once again in the corridor, and counting down the minutes till this moment, where she stood in the hallway like a lemon, straining to hear the muffled voices behind the door. Muffled was definitely good though right? Muffled meant there wasn't any shouting and hopefully, just maybe, Wickham wasn't worried too much about a temp bar job going south sooner than expected…

With little else to do but wait, she reached for her phone, hoping to find some inane app to occupy herself. Instead of inanity however, she found a missed text from Darcy:

Just finished a great, if 80s-centric, night with Gi and am heading to bed. Would much rather be watching you perform, but can barely keep my eyes open. I hope it goes well tonight, both on stage and off – call me when you wake so I can hear all about it? Good night Elizabeth. D x

She smiled, of course. The text was simply innocent inquisition, but she could hear his voice as she read his sign off in that deep tone that did anything but innocent things to her. Still, it felt like a step; a text that didn't ask for anything more than to feel connected to her. It was a warming feeling to know that she was in his final thoughts before sleep; warming to know he would be hers too. Swiping the screen to reply, the door before her opened with a click, and she looked up to find herself face to face with George Wickham.

It was a second, the work of a mere moment, before he comprehended he was not alone, but it was enough for Lizzy. The rancorous sneer that had been smeared across his face, brown eyes hooded and empty, lips curled, showed a very different man to the oleaginous charm of earlier. It sent an unsettling chill down her throat, one that remained even after he schooled his face into a docile, wounded one.

"I guess you knew about that huh? Well, it sucks alright, but I understand. I guess it makes sense for you to take someone on for free, but… well, I was so looking forward to working with you for longer."

He ran long fingers through his blonde hair, in a stance that was meant to look abashed – except that she'd seen the monster from before and there was no forgetting it now.

"Perhaps we might have luck in those other avenues and we can be colleagues of a different kind eh? Anyway, I'll see you on Wednesday Lizzy. Our final day."

He left with a significant look at her, shoulders hunched as he slunk down the corridor. Lizzy let out a breath she didn't know she had been holding. Her mobile was still in her hand, Darcy's name illuminated in black and white, and she clutched it tighter like a talisman, as if the man himself were there. She turned to make sure Wickham was well and truly gone before shaking out her body and walking into the office to hear from Sanders and her sister.

He was fucking screwed. Hefty boots stomped onto rain-glistened pavement as Qandisa's door shut behind him with finality. Fists clenched, he stormed toward the wheelie bins on the other side of the street, and proceeded to kick the shit out of them, rage and fear taking over. The money he had looked to as a lifeline was now no longer coming. The only thing coming for him was a fucking angry dealer and whatever gang of skinheads and inmates he was using as hired fists these days.

Those absolute bitches. He'd spoken to them both all night and not once had they given him the idea they were going to fire him. Sanders he'd expect nothing less from, maybe even Jane, but Lizzy? She should have mentioned at least one bloody word, but no, she'd just let him recommend himself for another job, watching and knowing all the while… Who the hell does the little stage slut she think she is?

He kicked the bin once more, watching in satisfaction as the thick plastic cracked and splintered under his boot. He stood, recovering his breath, cold moist air burning his lungs as he considered his position. Regardless of how much it stung, he was still relying on Lizzy to recommend him to Coco. He'd been lucky to recover himself upon finding himself suddenly faced with her, to act the act and talk the talk, instead of showing her exactly what he did to jumped up little cunts. Frustratingly, he needed her to believe in him for a little while longer. He needed her to do as he said, to see him as the honest and winsome George Wickham, just until he'd got the job. Then he could do as he liked; starting with smacking the smug smile from that face then showing her what a real man was truly capable of.