"And he's staying in Jane's room?" Lydia, crop top riding up her ribs, leans over the kitchen counter. The youngest Bennet drops by for a few days every spring break, but it feels different this time, somehow.
Lizzie purses her lips, her hands busy with her usual breakfast prep plus one.
"He just walked into the Cuppa one day, and here we are."
"And he's not, like, a serial killer or anything?"
"William has been nothing but a gentleman."
"Ha!" Lydia, double earrings and all, curls backwards on the barstool. Her spring break glow rolls off her in waves. "Gentlemen are no fun. Gimme a bad boy any day over a nerd."
Lydia clucks her tongue. Lizzie gulps.
"Lydia, he may be down any minute."
"So?" Lydia smirks. "I don't see you tapping that. I might as well."
"Lydia!"
Her baby sister grins a grin that is unabashed, unapologetic, and practically predatory. Lizzie almost wants to blush for her sake.
"Seriously, Sis." Lydia leans over the counter again. "You've been sharing a roof with a hunk like that for a month, spending every waking hour with him, and you haven't gotten a single night out of him? No wandering hands? No stolen kisses in the swing in the backyard?"
Lizzie fidgets, her hands trembling just a tiny tad as she plates up the bacon.
"I don't know what you're talking about." She starts on the eggs.
"I'm saying that there are hundreds of thousands of women who would be glad to bang William Darcy, celebrated romance author, prince of their hearts - your only sister with a life notwithstanding - and you're wasting your time just being his friend."
"Do I hear my name?" William appears on the staircase.
"William! Good morning!" Lizzie shuffles to serve his food first. "I - how much did - how are - "
She feels the flush crawling up her neck, and she suppresses it like there's no tomorrow. "I - do you want - bacon?"
He sits down on his usual spot, as calm as if this were just any other day, and only Papa is running late. Lydia brazenly leans against his new seat mate.
"Good morning, lovah!"
To his credit, William just nods a single nod at Lizzie's ridiculous sibling and starts eating.
"The eggs are lovely today," he remarks, smiling at Lizzie.
Lizzie loses her battle to her blush. "Thank you. Do you want some more?"
"If you have them."
And breakfast goes on, as usual - with a charming William Darcy, a drooling Lydia, a tardy father, and a jittery Lizzie exchanging morning pleasantries over coffee and classic American food.
William doesn't even mention the new interruption to their routine until he and Lizzie buckle up in his car.
"Your sister is - interesting," he says casually, like he didn't have an oversexed college kid salivating over him all morning.
"I'm so sorry for her behavior." Lizzie groans, head thrown backwards against her seat. "She - always hated staying in Rusterville. She says life here is as bland as my apple pie, and she thinks the city and the shows and the magazines have it so much better."
William makes a turn. It occurs temporarily to Lizzie that she's somehow gotten used to the view from his preferred mode of transportation over the open-aired freshness of her bike. "Do you disagree with her?"
"I - I don't think she's wrong." Lizzie sighs. "But she can be - too much, at times - in so many ways."
"You don't resent her for leaving while you stayed?"
"I love Papa. I don't think I can ever move away."
"But what if, let's say, a man comes along in your life. He wants to marry you, like your brother-in-law did your sister, but expects you to move away." He pulls up at the lone red light in town and turns towards her. "Would you be willing to leave Rusterville for that?"
"I - " Lizzie thinks. It's not exactly a scenario she has considered, given how very few men ever come to Rusterville. In fact, the only one she's ever met that hasn't left within twenty-four hours is sitting beside her right now. "I suppose if Papa thinks it's alright."
"And if he does."
"I suppose that - would be fine."
She meets his eyes for a quick, short beat before the light turns green. He turns away, and Lizzie notices, for the first time, that her heart is racing as fast as a rushing river.
And she realizes that it's the first time she's ever felt like this in person, without a romance novel between her hands.
"Is he coming back?" Paul props an elbow on the counter, his lips twisted slightly under his regular stubble. His overalls look slightly newer than usual.
"William?" Lizzie runs a new batch of coffee.
"Your boarder, yes - that guy." Paul clears his throat. The Cuppa is as leisurely and idyllic as usual. The occasional customer walks in for coffee, breakfast, and a quick greeting before wandering out. And without William in his usual spot by the window, typing away on his laptop, it's back to just her and Paul.
Even Lizzie feels her own smile being weaker than usual. "He's just getting some stuff from his uncle's ranch. He'll be back in a day or two."
"Will he?"
"He says he'll be. I believe him." She offers up another weak smile before moving on to the teacups.
Paul nods heartily, like he's struggling between a frown and a smile.
It's almost funny how all those weeks in William's company has made her more aware of people's subtleties - of the way they move and the words they choose.
It's eye-opening, and a little unsettling.
"Did he leave anything at your place?" Paul pries.
"Some clothes, I think. I don't know what he keeps inside his room."
Now, Paul smiles. "Ah, that's good."
"What's good?"
"Nothing."
Her boss and friend nods to himself just a little more before turning to handle the trash.
With Lydia gone two weeks ago and William gone two days, the house has been feeling unusually quiet. Breakfast for two feels nice but sparse. Even Papa's stories about his students can only last them half the evening before they each retreat to their own respective books.
Rereading William's books - her copies freshly autographed - do manage to make him feel a little more real to her.
But it's all just symptoms - outward symptoms that reveal how much she misses him.
And it's a little scary that she does.
The door chime rings, and Lizzie slips into her usual smile. "Welcome to the Cuppa!"
A handsome, well-dressed blond man saunters in, his crisp white shirt contrasting with the rustic interiors. He takes in his surroundings the way William did all those two months ago. There's an air about him that glows of education and influence.
"Can I get you anything?" Lizzie offers.
Paul stops whatever he's been working on and stands behind her. Paul's protective like that.
"Hi, I'm George." The new guy walks over, a winning smile all over his face. "I'm new here."
"I noticed." Lizzie chuckles.
"Could you recommend a bite to eat? A place to stay?"
"You're staying in Rusterville?"
"Is that a problem?" George smirks. He leans an arm over the counter, clearly used to charming women.
"It's not very often that we get young people walking in here." Lizzie smiles.
Behind her, Paul scoffs.
"Paul," she whispers, almost reprimanding.
"I'm Paul, owner of the Cuppa." Paul sidesteps Lizzie to offer the newcomer a hand. They shake hands limply. "I'm afraid we don't take boarders."
"My uncle owns the only B&B in town," Lizzie offers, tiptoeing slightly to talk over Paul's shoulder.
"That sounds perfect." George smiles, teeth and face glowing.
"Got what you need, sir?" Paul crosses his arms.
"May I have a cup of coffee - as recommended by our wonderful lady friend here?" George cocks his head to the side to glance at Lizzie.
It's odd, but the attention is a little flattering. And with William away, she can't help but admit to the slight gap in her heart for city men who wander helplessly into Rusterville, in need of a friend.
"Call me Lizzie," she says before reaching for the fresh brew. "A cup of coffee to go, sir?"
"Excellent."
"Milk and sugar?"
"As much as you can pack in it."
Lizzie smiles.
"And I said to Will that it wasn't right, but he insisted - so we wandered off to the unused part of the house, knocked into his uncle's suit of armor, and scared ourselves so badly that we peed all over our jammies." George finishes his story with a flourish, leaving Lizzie in the awkward land of really wishing to laugh at their common friend and feeling somewhat mean for doing so.
"You must have a lot of happy memories with him," she says instead, smiling.
It didn't take long for the newcomer - George Wickham, as he introduced himself - to make himself comfortable in town. He came right back to the Cuppa the very night of his arrival, just after her uncle texted her about his checking in, and he's been spending almost every spare hour of the last two days here ever since.
He's friendly and outspoken, and having him around distracts her somewhat from missing Will.
It helped a lot when a conversation about childhood aspirations last night made George bring up what it was like growing up with William Darcy, the famous author. The kinship of their mutual acquaintance was instant.
Hearing secondhand stories about Will isn't as good as actually spending time with Will, but it's comforting to at least be able to talk to someone who knew him, who cared for him in some ways.
God knows Paul has been growing even more cranky these days.
"We did get up to our own share of mischief," George avows, flashing his bright smile as always. The guy makes Lizzie feel grumpy. "I miss having the guy around, to be honest. It's been years since we've caught up. What's he up to these days?"
There's a soft, warm feeling in Lizzie for being consulted about Will - as if she knows him better than other people do, as if she has any kind of authority to speak for him.
"He's writing, I think." She looks down for a second at her tea. Her break can't last too long, but chatting about Will is a pretty pleasant way to spend it. "That doesn't say much though, does it?"
"No." George laughs. His laughter feels polished, almost as polished as his over-slicked hair. "Does he tell you what he's writing about?"
Lizzie's smiles weakly, suddenly feeling shy. "I don't know if I'm supposed to say."
"Swore you to secrecy? Made you sign an NDA?"
"No, nothing like that." She chuckles softly. She stirs her tea. "He just, uhm, may have mentioned about studying new character ideas around here."
"Oh?"
"I don't know if he will actually write about any of this. Rusterville isn't the most interesting place in the world."
"I disagree." George pauses until she meets his eye. He smirks, handsomely. "Any place with you in it is an interesting place."
It's outright flattery, and it makes Lizzie just a little bit uncomfortable. But it's also quite flattering to have yet another man of the world walk right into her life and find her fascinating, and she lets it slide.
"Writing about small town USA isn't quite his style though, is it?" George asks, a beat later. "His current works have all been drawn from his British heritage."
"I suppose."
"Why do you think he's doing this?"
Lizzie looks up. She wonders fleetingly how many of these questions she can actually answer.
But she also sees a winsome smile, a sincere face, and her only source of light-hearted friendship since William left for the ranch.
She can't help admitting to herself that she's doubted, a moment or two, if he's even coming back.
She likes to think he would.
"Maybe he wants a bit of a change?" she replies, shrugging. She can feel her pony-tail hitting the back of her shoulder.
"Maybe." George grins. He refocuses on his sandwich, and Lizzie sips her tea.
The otherwise empty coffee shop falls quiet for a minute or two.
"You make great food here," George compliments, when he's swallowed his last bite.
Lizzie smiles. "You're too kind."
"You're too nice."
"I hope you mean that nicely."
He grins. "Of course."
She smiles, glad to have their friendly rapport back, when the door chime rings.
"Welcome to the Cuppa!" She hollers automatically, pulling back to put her tea aside before addressing the new customer.
The look on the old customer's face is what catches her by surprise.
"Will? You're back!" She smiles.
But he doesn't smile.
He's glaring, and huffing, and frowning sternly.
"Hey, Will," George quips, smiling.
The responding reply on William's face is livid.
A/N: Did I forget that I wrote George Wickham into this story? Yes. Am I rediscovering only now what I drafted over a year ago, before the sleep deprivation and amnesia of first-time motherhood? Yes. Please bear with me!