They woke up early in the morning, still pressed together. Sunlight filtered in despite the blinds being closed, but the sheer yet opaque window covering didn't keep out the light. It hadn't been an issue before because Lizabeth was an early riser and at work by 8:00 a.m most mornings.

"Hi," she said, embarrassed but pleased.

"Good morning," William greeted her. His hands began to roam over her body, shaping a breast, and pinching a nipple up to stand. "Did you sleep okay? I didn't snore, did I?"

"No," she answered softly.

He leaned over, so he was partially lying on her and began kissing her shoulder as his hand played a little more insistently with her breast. He moved his leg up over hers, pressing it against her sex. "It's early yet."

"Yes," she agreed. The same thrills which he had elicited the night before began to course through her body.

"You are beautiful." William pushed himself up on an elbow to look down at her. The hand on her breast came up to stroke her hair. Lizabeth's eyes twinkled; the satisfaction of having him near shone up at him. He leaned over and pressed a kiss on her lips, warm and gentle and loving. His tongue slipped between hers, touching then retreating, teasing her while he continued to stroke her hair. Her tongue struck out boldly to swirl around the end of his before her lips pulled and sucked at the end of his tongue, not wanting to let it go. He groaned at the back of his throat.

His hand moved back down to a breast; his fingertips were delicate, barely coming into contact with her skin, and sent iterations of chills that electrified her. The movements of her tongue stilled as she focused on the intoxication of his touch. His fingers twirled more sharply around the tip of her breast before continuing their journey, lower, stopping to circle the point of her hip. Lizabeth squirmed. His delicate touch moved down the top of her legs, and lightly danced across them to her knee before he started to caress the inside of her thigh, with a firmer and more calculated touch.

"Oh!" she cried, not able to keep still and swallowing a mouthful of air. Her back curved as she involuntarily thrust her breasts high. William leaned over to take a nipple in his mouth, sucking on it. The hand on her leg moved up towards her sex, parting her folds and rubbing in precisely the spot she needed. She could feel his hardness against her thigh as his mouth devoured her nipple and as his fingers twirled and rubbed, causing pleasure to swirl from her sex up to her womb. It was the same sensations she had experienced the night before that were powering through her, building in intensity, lifting her spirits again. But something was different.

She felt that layers were being created, or rather, pulled away, like a fabric that was slowly fraying under pressure until a sudden exhilaration burst from her womb to her breasts, and out through her fingers and toes; one of such ecstasy that she cried. Tears came to the edges of her eyes as she vocalized her pleasure. She almost sounded as though she were weeping, but if she was, Lizabeth was crying from sheer happiness, despite the dusting of tears in her eyes.

William held her while her breathing settled, and her limbs relaxed; she hadn't realized that her arms and legs had locked up, nor that she had closed her eyes. But she blinked and then wrapped her arms around his neck to kiss him over and over. The kisses moved from playful to hot within seconds.

William's hands became busy again, stroking her everywhere before he leaned back on his elbow. "Do you have a condom?"

She knew her entire body blushed, not just her face. "No," she whispered, looking away before glancing back at him. "You don't…"

"I only have one in my wallet. While I hoped we might get to this point, my overnight bag is at my aunt's house. I didn't think I would be spending the night, last night," he explained. He didn't seem embarrassed by the subject for which she was grateful.

"I've never gotten to this point." Her voice was barely audible. "I guess I should have been prepared about…prevention." She blushed again and couldn't say any more.

His hands still stroked her body, but a hip was not as erotic as other spots. William pressed kisses on the point of her shoulder. All of his movements stilled as he flopped to his back. "Damn sunlight."

"I never thought of getting darker curtains," Lizabeth murmured.

He mumbled something indistinct before flipping the covers back. Her eyes widened as she watched his naked body in all its glory stroll around the bed to the window. He tugged on the cords, tightening the blinds and shuttering them against the light. It darkened more than she imagined it would; she hadn't realized how open they were. Lizabeth's eyes never strayed from William's form. She had never seen a naked man before, certainly not one in such an exaggerated state.

He crawled back under the covers with the room more in darkness and put a hand out for her. She could tell that his breathing was still heightened, though his desire was finally cooling. They curled up together and fell back asleep.


The phone on the nightstand rang shrilly and woke her up. It wasn't yet 8:30 a.m. It kept ringing, persistent, and nagging. She knew who it was. When the ringing stopped, Lizabeth yawned and stretched her arms up above her head. The musical notification of her cell phone sounded out in the front room next.

"Someone wants to get a hold of you," said William. He lay on his back and turned his head on the pillow to look at her before he, in turn, yawned.

"My mother," she explained. The landline started ringing again. Lizabeth looked over at him. "I'm going to answer it and get her off ASAP. Otherwise, she'll keep calling or do something like have my uncle do a well-check on me." The look William gave her wasn't encouraging, and her stomach tightened; she picked up the phone.

"At last!" cried her mother. "What is going on? Why didn't you answer the phone the first time?"

"Mom, it's Saturday morning. I was asleep," she began.

"You're an ungrateful child. I've waited all week to hear more details about your trip to Los Angeles. I still can't believe you would consider going there, and why you couldn't Tell Me All and call last Sunday, I Will Never Know! So did you have a good time? What did you see? How is your friend Charlene doing?"

"Mom, Mom," Lizabeth grumbled. "It's early."

"Don't give me any lip, Lizabeth Todd Bennet. I'm your mother. I deserve your respect!"

"Mom, you've talked a lot about respect and manners and insisted that I use them, and I want you to know that I've listened," said Lizabeth.

"Good girl," said Dawn. She seemed on the point of speaking, but Lizabeth carried on.

"One thing you emphasized were manners over the phone, and the times you should call someone. You said never to make a call before 9:00 a.m. or after 9 p.m. It's too early, it's Saturday, and I'm going back to sleep."

"Don't you hang up on me!" screamed her mother.

"Please use better manners and call at a better time," said Lizabeth and hung up the phone. Her heart pounded as she turned to look at her companion. She realized that she was sitting up in bed; her naked upper body exposed. "That was unprecedented."

"I gather," William said as he pushed himself up to sit next to her. "Your mother…"

"You can say anything you like about her."

"I think I could use her in a production, though some viewers would think she's too over-the-top to be believed," said William.

"Feel free," she said, leaning over to put her head on his shoulder. He wound his arm around her to pull her closer. They shuffled down in bed for a few minutes.

"We could lie here, but that would just be dangerous," he said. They were staring up at the ceiling. She agreed. "How about going out to breakfast?"

"The toothbrush that you bought before is still here," she remarked.

"Great." He paused. "Though we should maybe stop at the drug store and purchase something else as well." William turned his head to look at her. Lizabeth knew she blushed again as she gazed back at him.

"Okay."


They ate breakfast first. The restaurant was called Sally's and was the sort that served breakfast twenty-four hours a day. Lizabeth couldn't help but steal glances at William and overlay that with images of him standing naked in front of her window that morning. Their conversation was relaxed and comfortable. At one point, he asked her about her name.

"How did you get your name, Lizabeth Todd? Why not Elizabeth?"

"Well, Mom," she began. "She couldn't have her only precious daughter have a plain name; it had to be unusual." Lizabeth wrinkled her nose in disgust. "I've never liked it as I have to repeat myself and half the time people get it wrong and call me Elizabeth anyway." She wrinkled her nose again.

"Ever consider changing it?"

"Mom would disinherit me." She shook her head.

"And that would be a bad thing?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Maybe not," she agreed.

"Why Todd?"

"That's my Dad's name. Guess he had such a desire to pass on his name that he insisted I be named for him." She frowned. "You know, I've never really asked why, and Dad never talks." Lizabeth paused. "He can't get a word in edgewise!" She began giggling; William joined in.

"Lizabeth Todd…Elizabeth Todd." He looked at her. "That sounds like a great name. It would be a good stage name."

"A stage name?"

"Yes, if you ever decided to act," he said as he swallowed the last of his coffee.

"I've never considered acting." she frowned.

"I think the camera would love you." There was something about the way he said that sentence which sent tremors of excitement through her body; the same sort that his hands had sent so early that morning.

William wanted to look at the Goulding property again, though he said that he didn't want to get out and walk around. He only wanted to eyeball it as they drove around its perimeter, which was five miles around. (It was a massive piece of land, 960 acres.) The property was entirely fenced. Some sections in the north had been farmed.

"I have filming sites to look at as well," he said. "It's all business for me today. Some for my work, some for my aunt. You don't mind?" She indicated that she didn't.

One trip involved driving up into the foothills to look at some government land. William said he could easily get a permit to film there, but the location was uninteresting, the trees sparse, and the waterline (a reservoir) dreary. Currently, the land was still green, but the grass would soon dry, and everything would become the color of "parmesan or shortbread," William quipped.

"You really do like to cook," she responded. He agreed. They were sidetracked for most of the drive talking about interests that weren't related to work.


They had lunch downtown. That was Lizabeth's territory, and she was self-conscious about being with a man (especially with his having spent the night). Part of her hoped she wouldn't see anyone she knew, part wished someone saw her, as if to acknowledge a new side of her, but she ran into no one.

There were two more scouting trips to houses in town, then a drive to look at the parcel of land that his aunt was selling. William turned off of one road, which ran east-west through the city, onto Field avenue and parked his car. Like the Goulding property, it was currently being farmed.

"Everything from here, west of Field Avenue to Nabors is being sold," William explained. "It's a little odd that the city considered the purchase since it's on the wrong side of where development usually happens."

"The nether side," Lizabeth joked. He laughed with her then explained how his cousin Anne had chosen the name of the development.

"There are two farms that have long-term leases which the city would have to honor. They want to do luxury housing with half of it, which seems ridiculous. I can't imagine people wanting to fork over good money for three or four-acre lots to live here," he mused. "But eighty acres is slated to become a commercial tech park. And that is in competition with the Goulding property."

"How big is that tech park supposed to be?"

"320 acres," he answered.

"Would the city develop both?" she asked.

"Currently, it appears that they are considering just that. But I can't think that they have the money for it. Usually, developers outlay their own money to develop the land; it's a gamble, but they also reap the profits. I wonder which real estate developer is backing which project?" William mused.

Lizabeth thought that Edgar was involved with others in helping to bring the Goulding project to fruition but didn't want to bring up her ex-boyfriend. "Shouldn't that be a matter of public record, and we can look it up?"

"Yes," he said. "Come on, want to help me do some research?"

She agreed to help. His eyes turned to take in her, and Lizabeth saw how William smiled when he looked at her. It wasn't that evaluative glance that men gave women when they sized them up; there was fondness in his eyes, and somehow, her being with him made him content—seemed to have fulfilled some expectation or desire. William held out his hand to her, and she took it. The hand was brought up to his lips before he drew her back to the car.

He drove down Field Avenue and turned down a road that ran along the river. When the city had been founded, the river had been an essential means of transportation. Eventually, the road pulled away from the river (or did the river meander from the road?), and he pulled into a driveway with ten-foot-high gates and pressed a button on an intercom system to announce himself. The gates swung open.

The house was red brick with a porch around all its sides. It was three stories tall; the home's flat roof was covered with blue stone shingles. The windows were arched at the top, even the tiny attic ones. Overall, it was a pretty picture.

Once they had driven up a sweeping, curved drive to the main doors, Lizabeth amended her ideas. The stone foundation was covered with green and gray mold and was hidden behind indifferently trimmed shrubs. The stone steps up to the porch were dirty and worn with age. (Just how did one clean stone?) The red brick was discolored, and the paint was peeling in the sections that were more exposed to the elements.

The door was opened quickly to his knock by a woman who looked to be about her mother's age. "Hello, William."

"Ellie, this is Lizabeth," said William as they walked inside. "Lizabeth, this is Ellie Dawson." She nodded at the woman, wondering what her function was.

"Catherine is in the back parlor," said Ellie, closing the door.

William led Lizabeth through an entrance hall with black and white tile (that she found almost blinding), and down a hallway crammed with pictures in ornate frames. The house had been decorated with silver, black, and white as its dominant colors, and Lizabeth found it cold and uninviting.

They turned a corner into a more extended hallway. At the end, the pair entered a room with no door in its threshold. It had a wide curved entrance, which perhaps mimicked the windows. A woman sat reading a magazine on an ornate little couch. It was the type with carved animal feet. The wood had been stained black though the upholstery was a silvery green. All of the wood in the room was the same off-black; the curtains were black, and the darkness was relieved only by soft green upholstery and silver-gray wallpaper. It was dark and uninviting, like the hallway.

"Aunt Catherine, I've returned," William announced when the woman looked up from her magazine.

"Are you staying for dinner? We didn't know when to expect you. I don't run a hotel for errant nephews, you know!" She slapped her magazine against her thigh.

"I appreciate you letting me park here." He paused. "This is Lizabeth. Lizabeth Bennet." William turned to smile at her.

"Hello," Lizabeth said to William's aunt. The aunt's eyes briefly glanced her way before staring back at William.

"We'll take ourselves out for dinner. I wanted to park in Uncle Lewis' study to do a little research," he explained.

Lizabeth noticed an instant change in the aunt's demeanor. It wasn't just a frown but a sudden stiffness of her entire body. "You make assumptions as to how you may use my house!"

"It is research on your behalf," he argued in return. "And it has a desk and seating." Lizabeth noticed Catherine stiffen even more.

"That was Lewis' special place." She stared at William. "Do not touch; I repeat, Do Not Touch anything of his, but yes, you may use his office." Catherine slapped the magazine against her leg again.

"Thank you," he replied and looked at Lizabeth. "This way." They traced their way back down the hallway to where it turned back to the front and opened a door. The study was in the opposite corner from Catherine's parlor. It, too, was dark with paneling on the walls, but without the relief of wallpaper. The paneling was covered with a multitude of framed pictures and photographs.

"It's like a snapshot from the past," she said as William closed the door behind her.

"It was purchased from a family who had decorated it in the 50s or 60s. I should probably know the difference, but I don't." The dominant color here was gold, as there was an oriental rug on the floor and a couch with worn-looking upholstery. "Have a seat; I'll get my laptop and notes."

William disappeared, and Lizabeth spent her time looking at the photographs, attempting to find family likenesses, but failing. She recognized one of Ryan Fitzwilliam both in a somber and formal military portrait, but also another in ordinary attire before his accident, standing next to a young woman. It must have been at a party as they both had a beer in their hands.

She turned when she heard the door open; he had a stiff businessman-like briefcase with him along with a laptop bag. He put the items on the floor next to the door after he shut and locked it.

"Why'd you lock the door?" she asked.

"So we aren't disturbed," he answered. There was a mischievous grin on his face as William caught her in his arms.

"Not disturbed?" Lizabeth wound her arms around his waist. Their lips came together for an intense and hot kiss, which left both of them heady.

"Not disturbed," William assured her as he came up for air. "I think we should try out the couch." His gaze moved from her eyes to the dark yellow couch. Lizabeth looked at the long, formal couch and couldn't imagine making love on it; she shook her head slightly.

Not letting go of her, he maneuvered the two of them towards it and pulled her down beside him. Hands began stroking her hair and neck while he ran kisses on her cheek and shoulder. Her hands played across his chest, admiring his slim, muscular build. They stretched themselves out on the couch. Lizabeth briefly noticed that the stuffing was uneven beneath her back as William's weight pressed her even further against its surface.

Her hands began untucking his shirt from his trousers. She was wondering if he only wore suits, and did he even own a pair of jeans? When she found hers being worked down her hips, she lifted them to facilitate their removal. William sat up to take his jacket off, threw it on the floor, and pounced down to seize her mouth. His hands roamed through her hair as their kisses heightened their desire. A small part of her was embarrassed to be half-naked on a couch without blankets or sheets to hide beneath. But longing over-rode everything else as they kissed. Half of their clothes came off; they left their upper garments on.

"The box is in the car," Lizabeth shyly cautioned when William's pants hit the floor. (They had made a stop at the drugstore). Her eyes weren't gazing up into his eyes.

"I ran to my kit when I got my laptop," he explained, putting a hand down to his coat and pulling a condom out of a pocket. That necessity was taken care of immediately.

Lizabeth knew she blushed, but she was also feeling hot and flushed and excited as he positioned himself. William was slow entering her again, and the sensations were a repeat of the night before, a buildup of something—like a craving for food which made her want to dig her fingernails into him. But that afternoon, she found what she was seeking, and a wave of intense pleasure hit her again like it had that morning under his skillful fingers. She called out a low moan, which William stifled with a kiss. His thrusts intensified until he too moaned against her shoulder, attempting to stifle his own sounds of pleasure.

After several minutes of bliss, he propped himself up, staring down at Lizabeth as he whispered. "Wow! You are so good to make love to!" before his lips were on her, a sweet and soft kiss rather than a hungry one. After all, they were satiated.


They quickly pulled their clothes back on; Lizabeth ran her fingers through her hair, trying to tame it. William unlocked the door, went out, and came back with a tray. On it was a jug of iced tea and glasses, and they settled down to work. He had a tablet in his briefcase, which he gave her to use while he did searches on his laptop.

The paperwork about his aunt's business dealings lay about them on his uncle's old desk. He explained how his aunt sold off sections of land to help fund her lifestyle. "But she regularly exceeds her income, and isn't good about managing her money or mitigating risks."

"That sounds so business-y," Lizabeth said. "But if that means she spends money on frivolous things instead of maintaining her house, I get it."

"It does," he nodded. "While there's furniture here and in her parlor, there are some rooms which have been stripped bare of the antiques because she sold them. This used to be a show-place when my uncle lived."

Lizabeth considered that point while they both looked for background information about the people funding the development on both his aunt's land and with the Goulding property.

The door opened, and a woman walked in; she was petite and thin, and Lizabeth's first impression was of a person of frailty. She reminded Lizabeth of a professor she had once had, one who had been far past the age of retirement and yet kept coming to campus to teach. This woman had those sort of nondescript features where her hair and skin seemed the same color, or maybe they were colorless, or it was because nothing about her stood out. As she walked in, she looked intently at the couple, and Lizabeth noticed her eyes were a light brown. They were almost predator-like, golden-brown as though a wolf's (though given her small figure, Lizabeth amended that to a fox).

"Mother said William was here and brought a new assistant." She wasn't looking at William but at Lizabeth. "You know, he's always hauling assistants around with him."

Lizabeth wondered if she intended to give offense, the underlying insult being that he brought them with him because he was sleeping with them. Part of her suddenly realized how little she knew about his background, and did she even know how old he was? Maybe he did sleep with his assistants? She looked at him, both to ascertain whether he was that type, but also to hear his response.

"Lizabeth, this is my cousin, Anne Deburg. Anne, this is my friend," he emphasized the word, "Lizabeth Bennet. She lives in town and is an information expert, so she's helping me with Catherine's paperwork."

None of that information seemed to surprise Anne or throw her off her insolence.

"A friend!" Anne emphasized the word. "Mom said you're not staying for dinner?"

"No. I dropped my things here when I drove up since Catherine asked me to try to make sure the city council doesn't set aside the Field Avenue development and fixate more on Goulding's," he explained.

"I hate all of this." Anne turned suddenly and walked over to a set of French doors that only had a sheer covering on them. "I hate what she's done with all of her money, all of Dad's money, everything Grandpa left for us!" She turned dramatically to look back at William.

"You know I feel the same way," he placated.

Anne suddenly pasted a smile on her face. Lizabeth had never felt that expression was so apt as seeing it used in real-time on this woman's face. There was nothing sincere about it, but the smile that was turned towards Lizabeth was entirely a false one as she said, "are you certain you can't stay for dinner?"

She faltered in her answer because she and William hadn't discussed specific plans, but he spoke up. "We have reservations for dinner," William asserted.

"Okay then," said Anne sharply. The smile faded, and she swung her eyes towards her cousin. "Found out anything of interest?"

"Not exactly," he answered. "But I would say the city has a preference for Goulding's property if they had to choose."

"Why?" her response was quick and direct.

"Because of the location. You know Merton historically has never liked to develop west of town."

"We're the wrong side of town, aren't we?" Anne quipped in a disdainful voice.

"Yes," he agreed.

"Enjoy your dinner." Anne's eyes swung back to Lizabeth.

"Thank you," said Lizabeth. "Good to meet you." Anne left. Lizabeth waited for a few heartbeats. "She's…forthright."

"Anne says whatever pops in her mind and never worries about giving offense. Exactly like her mother. Though…" his face changed a little, "she's a little more calculating than my aunt. To be calculating you have to think beyond the present moment, and I don't think that Aunt Catherine can do that. It's all about her current pleasurable pursuit."

"So, we have dinner reservations?" Lizabeth asked, changing the subject. He nodded. "I think jeans and a t-shirt aren't the best things to wear. I don't suppose you could take me home to change? I also think maybe I need another shower."

"Sounds good," he said. "Why don't we quit now? I don't have much of a head for this. I'd rather spend more time with you."

"Okay." They quickly packed up, though finding Catherine Deburg to say goodbye to took time as she was hiding outside in the cabana on a lounge, napping. Catherine lectured William about the necessity of staying until the city council meeting on Wednesday night to ensure that nothing happened with the vote about her property.

"I'll do my best," he assured her. "I am presenting one of many different sides of what the city should do when it comes to expanding its borders and its coffers."

When Lizabeth said goodbye, Catherine Deburg said nothing in return as if she wasn't even there.


A/N: it's Wednesday in case you've lost track. I have. Had to look up both the date and the day of the week.

Hang in there. Pick up the phone and call a friend. I've found it helps A LOT.