William opted not to return to his Aunt Catherine's house. He and Caroline stayed at the Hilton. They spent the first half of Saturday photographing the various sites that had been earmarked for scenes in Bella Montaña. He considered that he should have photographed the Metcalfe's gardens but found his efficient co-producer had taken many pictures with her phone the night of the party. They might do in a pinch since he could think of no excuse to bother the Metcalfes on a Saturday afternoon with Mimi so close to giving birth.

As soon as they finished, Caroline got in her car with a quip, "next time you want me up here, I really am hiring a driver. Too much lost productivity. And don't stay sniffing around too long."

"I'll just get the last of my things from Catherine's and then head home," he assured her.

"I'll believe it when I see it," she retorted.

But William was determined to go. The information that she shared had surprised and stung. In a way, it made him sober up; he felt like Caroline was heaping a lot of responsibility on him. Not that taking anybody's virginity was a responsibility, but she said that it involved expectations and romance. He wasn't sure that any of his relationships had involved that. They had mostly been mutually beneficial. He usually dated actresses, usually his own actresses. Often they were public relationships—a little press had always helped his fledgling production company.

He wasn't sure that he knew how to do romance. That was Charles' purview. William was organization, finances, and the big picture, all about holding everything together. William wasn't about small details, like remembering flowers or birthdays. Hadn't Lizabeth said that she had a birthday a week or so ago? She was just twenty-five, just starting to live.

The producer in his head started crafting a story about such an anomaly in the modern world, then he shook his head and thought that was what Caroline was warning him about. He needed focus if he wanted to consider romancing Lizabeth Bennet and not get lost in work. He did have his moments. That was how he survived. If the details of work were overwhelming, he could find one thing to lose his head in, and focus on, like that long-legged spider at the country club that night when he was waiting for the women to get out of the bathroom and for Charles to show.

William had adopted most of the foibles that LA producers did. He knew how to drink and navigate a room. He'd slept with a few people to achieve what he needed in his thirty-two years, though there was no pleasure in any of those vices. He wasn't a particularly outgoing person which, if anyone had examined him, would think an odd trait for a film producer.

The stereotype of a gregarious, white man working the room, shaking hands, making deals wasn't him. He was more aloof than many others in his profession. He had his looks, at least until he aged more. He had also come into the business with a little money, which many of his contemporaries had not. William enjoyed being successful even if he wasn't the epitome of a Hollywood producer.

But when it all got too much, he could just zone out and find something to occupy his mind and push all his troubles away so he wasn't overwhelmed—like driving to the beach to watch the waves crashing or finding a spider crawling on the wall. Secretly, he enjoyed cooking, though few knew that. Even Charles didn't. Charles loved eating out (especially on William's dime), and so long as they went to a decent restaurant, William didn't mind following his friend and leading actor out to eat.

Caroline knew everything about him. In her junior year in college, she had sent him an optimistically cheerful email asking about an internship (hoping that he had money to pay for it as well). But she came from money (East Coast money, but money), and her father had been willing to underwrite her bills that summer so she could work for William's fledgling production company. If he had to admit it, that was probably the year that things had turned for him—when he got his first big break.

He thought about her considering them a power couple as he drove back to LA (having managed to sneak into and out of his aunt's house). Caroline Bingley had been good for William Darcy Productions.


Lizabeth's Sunday with her aunt and uncle was to be a little different because it was Super Bowl Sunday, which was practically a national holiday. There was to be a party at the Gardiner's and friends had been invited. There would be a lot of food, and everyone would be distracted watching the game on TV. She thought she could get by with making an appearance, and not even staying the entirety of the game (and hopefully not having to suffer too many questions). She didn't know how much Edgar had told his parents and how much LuAnn and Ed (the father) had talked to the Gardiners about Ed and Lizabeth's breakup. But because of the other guests, she wouldn't be facing too many point-blank questions.

It turned out that it was mostly Scott's high school friends who came to watch the game. Her cousin seemed distant, and maybe a little embarrassed about his older girl cousin when his mother insisted that he introduce Lizabeth to his half dozen friends. She got Braydon and Tyler (such a popular name) straight, but couldn't remember the others who were dispersed around the media room watching the pre-game show. Uncle Ned had a beer while the others had soft drinks, chips, and sandwiches in their hands, all intently focused on the screen and not on introductions. No one was interested in Lizabeth. No one left her a space to sit down or moved over for Aunt Chrissie.

Her aunt was an excellent cook; one of her specialties was pizza, and it was a great day for pizza. Her dough took twenty-four hours to proof, and a dozen pats lay in wait in her large, restaurant-sized refrigerator.

"Come into the kitchen and help me roll out the dough," Chrissie invited. Lizabeth wasn't quite sure if they were only going to bake pizza, but there was no excuse to give for staying to watch the game with her uncle and cousin. Despite being Todd Bennet's daughter, she couldn't express a huge interest in football, though she followed it to an extent. She trailed behind her aunt into the kitchen.

They were all business, at first, as the cheese was grated, and ingredients were chopped. All the items had to be prepped so they could take individual orders. The game began in the other room, and they could hear the volume rise as the Super Bowl got underway.

"How was your week?" Chrissie asked.

"Well…it's been one like no other," Lizabeth could honestly say. "Definitely something to put in my diary, if I kept a diary."

"Really?" Again, there was an eagerness to her aunt's demeanor, one she had seen the previous Sunday as though she was anticipating a full disclosure of the marriage proposal.

"Did you hear about the cat?" Lizabeth asked.

"I read about it. What happened to it?"

"I kept it!" she exclaimed, hoping to launch into the joys and frustrations of cat ownership and avoid other topics.

"I heard about that too," Aunt Chrissie replied.

She is one who holds her cards close to her chest, Lizabeth thought suddenly. Chrissie wasn't asking leading questions. She knew about the cat and that Lizabeth had kept it. She wondered if her mother had complained to Ned and Chrissie about the cat as Dawn could now no longer spend the night at her daughter's house. Rather than skirting the issue, Lizabeth barreled straight through. "Mom is appalled," she laughed.

"So I heard," said Chrissie. "Ned had an earful yesterday. Dawn and Todd swung by on their way out of town to enlist our aid in getting you to get rid of it. We were supposed to try our best today."

"I hate that she does this," Lizabeth grumbled as she pulled the seeds out from the middle of a bell pepper. They went spraying over the countertop; some landed on the floor.

"It's your mother's nature, but I'm preaching to the choir about that." Her aunt was sautéing onions in a pan. "A week like no other?" she prompted.

Lizabeth was bold enough to ask, "is there anything you want me to talk about? Or are we going to dance around subjects?"

"Ed," her aunt blurted out. "I want to talk about Ed. You didn't want to talk about him last week, and I gave you space." She took her pan off of the burner. "But I want to know what's going on with Edgar and you."

"We've broken up," said Lizabeth, "that's what's going on with Ed."

Her aunt's hand came to cover her mouth as she gasped. That hadn't been anticipated. "Do you want to talk about it?" Chrissie asked as she dropped her hand and spoke in that comforting and soothing tone she usually employed.

"Not really," Lizabeth answered. She had a knife in her hand because she was going to slice those bell peppers, but thought she should probably put it back down, given the topic. "I've had a chance to talk to friends." Her aunt's face closed up as though a little hurt that Lizabeth wasn't going to tell all. "But I will say that I never wanted to marry him. I enjoyed dating him, but it was never my intention to marry him, and his proposal was enough to break the relationship."

"Oh my. Oh my," Aunt Chrissie repeated. "Are you sure you…aren't being hasty in turning down his proposal?"

"Yes!" she asserted. There was no room for argument after that. She wasn't convinced that her aunt would accept what she had to say or why Chrissie felt so vested in Edgar and Lizabeth being together, but there was no room in her life for Edgar Stone, III. She had made that clear to herself; she needed to make that clear to her aunt.

"He's an atrocious person," Lizabeth continued.

"Edgar? No! He's…he's such a nice young man. LuAnn's boy! I've never known a more charming young man. I've always told Tyler to hold him up as an example," said the mother of two sons.

"I think maybe you want to rethink Edgar as a role model for Tyler and Scott," Lizabeth remarked. Chrissie stared at her.

Lizabeth continued. "Edgar and I started dating when I moved here in September, as you know. We had a date once a week, yet Ed has been sleeping with other women two or three times a week when he wasn't with me. I don't know if that's the behavior you want Tyler and Scott to emulate?" She took up her knife and attacked her bell pepper, slicing it as best she could. The results were uneven and irregular. She didn't look up to see her aunt's reaction, but there was a long awkward silence.

Eventually, she heard the clanging of a pan, and the pizza peels being set out. Her aunt was putting cornmeal on them in preparation for the dough. Finally, unable to stand it, she looked at her aunt, who looked mystified more than anything else as she twirled the dough on the backs of her hands before laying it on the peels.

"Shall I take orders?" Lizabeth asked.

"Let's both go in," suggested her aunt as she pressed another dough blank on a pan, then wiped her hands on the dishtowel which was wrapped around her waist. They went in together to get orders from the men watching the game.

Lizabeth lingered long enough to help get the pizzas in and out of the oven and to help get the dishes washed. None of the young men were appreciative and even said thank you, though Uncle Ned wandered in with his empty plate for another beer and murmured his thanks.

"Lizabeth and Edgar broke up," Chrissie remarked as he was closing the refrigerator door.

"Yeah?" Uncle Ned turned. "I wondered if it wouldn't sour between you. I'm sorry." He walked back to watch the game. Aunt Chrissie thought her husband would have more of an opinion (though the Super Bowl was playing in the next room, for god's sake).

"I don't know what to say. I've tried hard to support you since Dawn has shackled you and ridden over you so much," remarked her aunt. "But, I think I was seduced by the idea of you and Edgar walking down the aisle into a happily ever after." She slapped a few things into the industrial-sized sink. "I haven't been a friend in this case. I love Tyler and Scott, but I also wanted daughters." More items were placed into the sink. "I apologize. I got caught up on the idea of a wedding, romance, white dresses. Dawn can sell quite a picture. And you know that Ned and I just did the courthouse thing, right? Dawn and Todd's wedding was so excessive that when we married, Ned couldn't abide the idea of having even our closest circle of friends stand up with us. We just stood before Judge Deburg with two friends by our side."

Lizabeth had been picking up used utensils and loading them into the dishwasher but stopped to listen to her aunt's story.

"I hope we are still friends," said her aunt.

"You have always been such a support to me when Mom is such a nutter. Of course, we're still friends," she asserted. "It's easy to get caught up in Mom's drama. I mean, she got Dad—Dad!—to drive over here yesterday, the day before the Super Bowl, to discuss flying me to New York City to buy a wedding dress before I had even announced my engagement!"

It was an easy speech to make, though her insides twisted a little. She felt her smile was a little forced. She recalled the awkward dinner the previous Sunday with Chrissie and Ned hinting about an engagement (but never asking). And there was the fact that Uncle Ned had told Ed where to find her.

"Thank you," Chrissie's shoulders sagged with relief. She attacked the dirty pots and pans with a little more gusto.

The kitchen was cleaned, and Lizzie said farewell. She didn't bother to poke her head in to say goodbye to Uncle Ned and Scott or even attempt to recall any of the friends' names who were cheering on the game. Lizabeth was happy to retreat to the silence of her apartment where she curled up with the kitten and a cup of tea.

She considered that she wasn't someone for whom trust came easily. Aunt Chrissie had been very supportive of her over the years, but Dawn's insistence on knowing exacting details meant Lizabeth had boundary issues. Having a supportive adult in her life had been valuable and helpful and constructive. And Chrissie Gardiner had always been someone, that if needed, Lizabeth felt that she could call upon and pour out her heart to. She would always find a sympathetic ear, but this little glitch had made her walk unhappily away from the Gardiners' house (located a stone's throw away from Edgar and LuAnn's house). Lizabeth considered that her aunt's questions and presumptions had hurt.

She needed friends of her own. Having an older ear to pour her misery into had been a lifeline during her teen and college years, but now that she was on her own, she needed friends of her own—a support system of peers. Friends whose loyalty was to her or at least friends whose loyalty wouldn't be divided between her and her mother—for, after all, Edward Gardiner was related by blood to Dawn Bennet.


She went to work on Monday and was happy that it was only Doug Morris at the front door. He made one brief reference to the ugliness on Friday by asking her if everything was okay. She assured him that it was. He then logged on to the computer and got lost in his business.

It was a quiet day. Lizabeth hoped for a quiet week after such a chaotic one previously. She had paperwork to catch up with and was content to focus on that. She still found time to peruse the Merton Daily, so what if it was on company time? Lizabeth figured it constituted the equivalent of a coffee break, though she also checked to see if any of those people who filed for fictitious business names had printed their ads. There was also the notice of an engagement: that first Jenkinson quad, Karen, was marrying her fiancé in June. It seemed they wanted a big fancy wedding.

After lunch, she got lost in scanning old map books when someone coughed. She looked over to see a young woman (who was about her age), standing expectantly on the other side of the counter. Lizabeth thought she'd seen her somewhere but couldn't remember the context.

"Is the judge in?" the woman asked.

"Probably, though I don't know if he's available."

"Can you check?" pressed the woman.

"Yes. Can I tell him who's here?" she asked.

"Andrea," was the answer. Lizabeth wasn't sure if she should ask for a last name but thought it must be personal business if the woman only gave her first name and expected the Judge to know her. She knocked on his office door. The police scanner was going in the background, so she knew he wasn't too occupied. He flicked it off before inviting her in.

"How are you?" Troy Metcalfe asked.

"It's a quiet day, for once," she answered.

"No cats today, huh?" he quipped.

"Yes. Um," she felt tongue-tied suddenly. Lizabeth still wasn't sure if she would be punished for her recklessness in tearing open the wall to get at the kitten. There hadn't been any repairs to the wall yet. It might take some time to get approval. It might need funding, which usually took forever in government time. "Um, a woman is asking to see you."

"Yeah?" Judge Metcalfe was surprised.

"Said her name's Andrea."

"Oh," he was both surprised and yet not. It appeared that he knew who Andrea was. "Show her in."

Lizabeth had to walk down the length of the counter to the door to open it. "Come in. Judge Metcalfe will see you."

"Thank you," said the woman and walked through; she seemed to know the way and didn't wait for an escort. By the time Lizabeth had latched the counter door, Andrea was opening the door to Metcalfe's office.

"Hi," Andrea called to Troy and quickly shut the door behind her.


Lizabeth was determined to expand her friendships after her long considerations on the weekend and decided to run up to the Hilton bar in the hopes of speaking to Mary. However, the lounge lizard queen didn't work on Monday, though she did run into Jane Sweet. The event planner was talking to someone just outside the entrance to the hotel restaurant but greeted her.

"I came to talk to Mary, but she doesn't work Mondays apparently," Lizabeth began.

Jane had the prettiest smile. "She can't be here every day, we'd wear her out. Did you have a reason to speak to her?"

"No, I'm just attempting not to go home and brood," she said.

"Have you seen William recently? Do you want to have a drink?" Jane invited, motioning towards the bar.

Lizabeth thought about the fact that she hadn't gone home yet. "Maybe a half a glass of wine. I haven't fed the cat yet."

Jane laughed, "does she have a name yet?"

A hand went to her cheek. "Kitty. I'm at a loss as to what to name a cat. They don't come when you call them."

"That's true."

"Do you have one?" Lizabeth asked in return.

"No. I like dogs," Jane answered as they took their seats.

"Oh!" she looked at her. It was an unexpected revelation; somehow Jane didn't seem the dog type.

"So, William? Have you kept in touch?" Jane pressed.

"He stayed in town last week. His aunt lives here."

"Yes, I know." Jane nodded her head. "Charles explained about the production. I heard all about the details, and some of the ideas, I gather, were based on family stories from William."

"Oh, that I hadn't realized," Lizabeth frowned. "Have you seen Charles?"

"Not since that Monday," said Jane, who clicked her tongue.

"Do you want to?" Lizabeth followed up one question with another. She hoped that was acceptable.

"Yes. I rather like him. We had a rather wonderful time, though I'm not sure that being involved with an actor would be the smartest thing I've ever done." Jane raised her eyebrows rather dramatically, and Lizabeth filed that disclosure away. She wondered if they had spent the night together.

"Do you think you'll see William again, now that you're free?" They were to talk about both men. This wasn't going to be a one-sided conversation.

"I don't think I'm on the rebound for another relationship," Lizabeth remarked. "I've been pretty burned by Edgar."

"Getting over a relationship is tough, isn't it?" Jane rolled her eyes and nodded at the barman, who may or may not be within range to hear their conversation.

"Yes, and this was my first," she admitted.

"Really? Oh! Wow!" exclaimed the event planner. "It hurts, even if he is a bastard."

Lizabeth found that she still bristled if someone insulted Edgar even though she knew that they were right. But this time, she didn't bristle visibly but nodded in agreement. "But I don't want to make a mistake and decide to suddenly date someone else just because Edgar was such a bastard."

"Well…it's difficult to say what attracts you to someone else or what attracts them to you," said Jane sounding very philosophical with her cocktail twirling absentmindedly. "But don't pass up the opportunity to get to know someone just because you fear you're on the rebound. I just broke up with my boyfriend last month. He's a writer for the Merton Daily. We were together for two years. He was always going to write a novel and was skilled too. He just never could finish anything he started."

Lizabeth watched as Jane's face lost the humorous animation from before. Her shoulders and body slumped a little, but her face lost none of its beauty even as private thoughts overtook her. "But we just got to the point where we stalled, so I broke up with him and moved out. You might say that I was on the rebound when I met Charles. But I didn't let that stop me from getting to know him."

"Wow," said Lizabeth. "But you said you're not sure if you'll see Charles again?"

"He lives hundreds of miles away. Who knows? I've got my life and patterns up here. But it's fun to say that I've slept with an actor, don't you think?"

Lizabeth nodded, though her stomach cramped a little. She wasn't sure if Jane was joking or regretting her impulsivity of the evening or what that statement meant. She didn't know Jane well enough (or rather had enough relationship experience) to understand what that disclosure meant.

"Thanks for talking to me," was something Lizabeth could say. "It helps to have somebody my age to share with."

"Anytime," Jane answered.

"I think I'll head for home," she said, leaving a great deal of her wine behind.


The next day, there was a wedding announcement between Kate Lyn Jenkinson and Daniel Wilcox in the Merton Daily. Lizabeth couldn't help but feel that there was a rivalry between the two Jenkinson sisters, if not between all four of them. She couldn't imagine what it was like to grow up as a family of four daughters. It might be nice to have her mother's attention deflected from her once in a while. Such thoughts got her through the morning in what seemed to be a rush of activity.

She also saw several fictitious statements posted in the online newspaper, one of which was that awful David's; she had intended to discuss those weird mining guys with the Judge and resolved to tackle him right after lunch as the office was busy right up until then. It would be her first priority after she had eaten. But someone wanted to file for a property tax revaluation and was waiting impatiently at the doors when she returned. Lizabeth had to deal with his wheezing, irritated fussing first.

But the man hadn't even left when Troy Metcalfe threw open his door. "Mimi's in labor. I'm off to the hospital!" He shut it again.

She turned with a squeak to rush to his door and opened it without knocking. He was patting a hand over his desk. "Can I help?" she offered.

"I don't know where I put my cell phone!" the Judge cried.

"Is it in your pocket?" Lizabeth asked, knowing where he normally stowed it.

He reached up to pat his breast pocket, sighed in relief, and bit his lip.

"Do you need any help?" she repeated.

"No. I'm leaving you in charge. You can call on anyone in the city offices if you need facility or administrative help…that kind of thing. Any county issues, call on Bernie in the Rivertown office."

"Okay. Good luck and congratulations!" she cried, feeling bubbly and elated. She hoped the Judge felt the same.

"Thanks, Lizabeth," he said. "I may take a couple of days off."

"I should hope so."

"Bye," and he was gone.

She thought in all that whirlwind of his getting out the door that he was just as nervous as he was excited. He was a forty-nine-year-old man about to become a father for the first time. There were a lot of men who became grandfathers at that age, not fathers. But there was a concern, she knew, about Mimi becoming a mother at forty-whatever her age was. But they had the best doctors who would ensure the best outcome.

It seemed desolate in the office the rest of the day, even though she rarely saw Judge Metcalfe, but knowing he wasn't there made Lizabeth feel a little depressed. Once again, she didn't go straight home after work but headed for the bar.

Mary was there, and they had a cozy chat discussing exactly how long Mimi might be in labor and how long until the news would come. Lizabeth realized she was very uninformed about birthing babies. She thought it was only a matter of hours. Mary said it could be a handful or half a day; it could be twelve; it could be twenty-four. It all depended.

"Twenty-four!" Lizabeth cried. "I don't think I will ever have children!" She wondered why her mother had never used labor as a guilt-trip. She suspected that her mother's labor must have been short.

It was just as she was at the very end of another romance novel, in the epilogue where the hero and heroine joyfully cooed over their infant son that she received a text from Troy Metcalfe.

Mimi doing well. My heart joyful!

Next came a picture. She supposed a nurse had taken it, but the Judge was smiling in a manner she had never seen as he held the tiniest baby wrapped in a striped blanket. The baby wore a cap and was asleep.

Anthony Troy Metcalfe

There were height and weight details listed.

Congratulations to you and Mimi, she texted back before turning out the light.


The Judge ended up taking five weeks off. It kept Lizabeth busier than she supposed. He never provided any help, but perhaps it was his presence that kept her going, somehow. She found her days full of work and looked forward to lunch more than she had in the past.

Her lunches with Charlene were a welcome break. While they had talked about having dinners too, it seemed that this adjunct professor boyfriend was suddenly keeping Charlene quite occupied. Not that Lizabeth could blame her friend. They still found time to go shopping one Saturday afternoon. Just window shopping for clothes, to be girls, to try on shoes without any intention of buying them and to talk. It let Charlene gush about Lyle and allowed Lizabeth to let off steam about holding down the fort with the Judge gone.

She spent more time at the bar than she had in the past. Part of her worried that she might cross paths with Edgar, given what Mary had said about him and other women. Lizabeth asked the lounge lizard if she had seen Ed; Mary admitted that she hadn't.

"There's a group of businessmen who used to meet here regularly from a company, 'Spectre,'" Mary explained. "One of them got a little drunk, and came on a little too much to Jane one night; Joe had to tell him to knock it off, and he wouldn't. We had to get security to show him the door. Anyway, Edgar seems to be spending a lot of time with those guys. Whatever bar they've moved to, that's where he is."

Lizabeth was pleased that she didn't have to face Ed. She was enjoying having friends. Mary was philosophical and discussed top-lofty topics, like politics, and was insightful about human relations and those base motivations for people's behavior. Jane was often around as well. Whenever she and Jane talked about Charles, the subject of William always came up which kept him on her mind. When Charles came up to see Jane one weekend, it made Jane glow with happiness. Lizabeth thought that she would like to feel that way about someone or have someone make her feel so happy. Edgar certainly hadn't had that effect on her.

She was also relieved from attendance at the Gardiners house—a nice relief—as everyone was sick the week after the Super Bowl and then the next weekend, Uncle Ned and Aunt Chrissie were gone as they took Scott on college tours since he had a week off of school.

Lizabeth dutifully answered the phone if her mother called. Those calls were never short, but besides one long diatribe about the cat, Dawn mostly used the time she had her daughter cornered on the phone discussing how ungrateful Lizabeth was, how she didn't understand her mother who explained about the sacrifices she had made over the years. Dawn reiterated that Lizabeth really ought to do everything she said. Her mother never went on to explain any obvious desires, like insisting she marry Edgar, get rid of the cat, or move back home. She just insisted that she knew best all the time.

After hanging up one day, Lizabeth had the insight that her mother was someone who needed to complain and to voice those complaints frequently, though she didn't necessarily desire a solution.

The kitten grew quickly, and having a little friend at home made home better. Lizabeth thought that she ought to find something else to do with her life, as though she needed a hobby like knitting, but all-in-all, she was enjoying the direction of her life and feeling more focused, and grown-up.


A/N: we're sort of post-Netherfield ball and not quite to Hunsford yet. (And as I've PM'd a few of you), This story is like I had all the canon plots or little scenes on cards but I shuffled them up and then randomly laid them out. I've woven most of them in (look for Mr. Collins' proposal), they just don't happen in the same order or necessarily have the same strength or influence in the story. Sorry, no D&E direct interactions until their little 'Hunsford' meeting.

Hope everyone is doing well sheltering at home. It gets hard when you can't go visit a friend to relieve the stress of so much family togetherness.

Dear Adsom: the situation in Spain wrenches at my heart. I hope you are well and safe as your country does what it can with this pandemic.