1.
The holidays were exhausting. Lizzy forgot this every December—when the twinkling lights came out, when green wreaths and red bows appeared everywhere, and when Lizzy caught herself humming "We Wish You a Merry Christmas" on her way to classes. Then, finals set in: with all its research papers and exams and last-minute stresses, like Christmas shopping. Then, her mom started calling, hinting that she expected to see both her daughters home for the holidays. Then, Lizzy had to scramble for a reasonable excuse; luckily though, she managed to get a hold of her father and convinced him to visit through Christmas.
As much as she hated to admit it, Jane had been right: they would've never managed to hold the Eggnog Party at their apartment. Charlotte was in the middle of moving out, and there were boxes stacked tall in their living room like an unwrapped, oversized Christmas. She was really glad that Charlie was in charge of planning it, and she was even gladder that he refused all her offers to help, even when she called the day right before the party. "Lizzy, it hasn't been that long since I left school," Charlie had told her, and Lizzy could hear the bangs and chatter of party prep going on in the background. "I remember what it's like. Besides, Jane's coming over later."
"I see how it is," Lizzy said grinning. She was walking through the mall (back to Caribou); she had to stop next to one of the fountains to let a gaggle of shoppers go by. "You only need one of the Bennet twins."
"Uh-huh," said Charlie. "The one who's finished her exams already—Shit! Lizzy, I've got to go. Someone's just beheaded one of my snowmen."
"Okay," said Lizzy. "See you later"
"Yeah, and Lizzy—" he said quickly, "good luck with your Anthro exam; Jane says this one's a real bitch."
Lizzy smiled. "Thanks, Charlie. Bye," said Lizzy and hung up, grabbing her bag. She hoped things worked out between Charlie and Jane; he was just so…nice.
She stepped into Caribou and made her way to her usual table. "Hey, Jack," she said, as she walked by the cash register.
He looked up from the change he was counting out for an elderly man with a cane and did a double take. "Hello, Lizzy," said Jack with a much more flirty smile than usual.
Lizzy smiled back over her shoulder, narrowing her eyes suspiciously and wondering what he was up to; she then noticed he was staring at her butt. She rolled her eyes. That morning, she'd thrown on a button-down shirt and her best black pants, which were probably a little tighter than the jeans Wickhead was used to seeing her in. She didn't really have a choice, though; she'd been too busy lately to do laundry, and not much else was clean. Lizzy made a mental note to work that into the conversation, so Jack didn't think that she'd dressed up for him.
Two hours and a quarter of her Linguistic notes later, Lizzy wasn't aware of much at all, unless if it had to do with the effect of the word like in teenage girl's communication, or cognitive dissonance, or something about double negatives that she didn't really understand and would have to look up again later. Another hour after that, she wasn't aware of anything at all; she was asleep, head on her outstretched arm, coffee still in her hand, and notes spread out in front of her.
The next thing Lizzy noticed was a hand on her shoulder, gently shaking her. "Lizzy," said Jack softly. "Get up, love."
Lizzy groaned and shook her head. "Five more minutes," she said. "No, ten."
"It's 4:30," said Jack. "When's your exam?"
"Five," mumbled Lizzy, folding her arms for a better pillow. Then, she was awake, eyes opening wide and sitting up abruptly. "Crap, it's at five. I have thirty minutes. Crap."
"Better get a move on then," said Jack.
Lizzy scrambled to her feet, stuffing papers into her bag and tossing her half full coffee into the trash behind Jack. "Fuck, fuck, shit-fuck," she muttered, her breath hissed through her teeth. "I'm late. Oh, fuck."
"You'll be fine," said Jack, grinning. "You've got plenty of time."
"Jack, thank you," Lizzy said seriously, taking hold of his shoulders; she went on tip-toe and kissed him on the corner of the mouth (which was as high up as she could reach). "You're an angel.—Fuck, I have to pee." Then, she zoomed to the small hallway in back of Caribou to the door marked LADIES and threw herself inside.
When she opened the door again, Jack was standing in the doorway, de-aproned and much taller than she remembered. "My shift just ended," he told her.
"Okay…" said Lizzy uncertainly, and then, he was kissing her, pushing her back into the bathroom and closing the door behind him. And Lizzy realized, for the first time, that she was very attracted to Jack Wickham. She reached up and cupped Jack's face in her hands, then ran her fingers through his hair, and noticed Jack's hand on her breast.
Lizzy broke the kiss, saying "Umm…" She looked down; her shirt was unbuttoned to the waist. Jack's hands had been very fast; she guessed he would've unhooked her bra too if she'd worn one with a front clasp.
"Sorry," said Jack, backing away, hands in the air and looking sheepish. "I thought—Sorry, Lizzy."
"No," said Lizzy quickly, taking a step forward. Her edges of her shirt flapped around her waist. "It's just—" It's way too fast. I don't have sex in public restrooms. "Really bad timing, Jack." She reached up again and kissed him quickly on the mouth, as she re-buttoned her shirt. "I really have to go."
Jack nodded and smiled. "Come on then," he said, picking up her bag from the floor. "I'll walk you to your car."
It had been years since Lizzy had felt this awkward. When they strolled out of the ladies' restroom hand-in-hand, she felt like every eye in Caribou was on them; Vick, Jack's fellow cashier, winked at them on their way out.
"You're so cute, pet," said Jack chuckling. "You're blushing."
"But they were all staring at us," Lizzy protested.
"Your face was rather red," Jack told her. "I'd have stared, too."
Lizzy didn't know what to say; her heart was beating so fast that she could hear it in her ears. This was not how she wanted to go into her last exam; she hoped her palms wouldn't start sweating.
She looked to the side, pretending to examine the mall's decorations—the three Christmas trees in the middle of the tile floor, each over thirty feet tall and decorated with red, round ornaments, gold ribbon, and glass sculptures that hung like icicles. Under them, there were red- and gold-wrapped presents, and among them, there was a little boy sleeping, curled up and sucking his thumb. "Look, Jack!" Lizzy gasped, pointing. "What a great shot; where's my camera?" She gasped again. "Where's his mom?"
"Here," said a tired-looking woman seated in a rocking chair nearby; she had shopping bags strewn around her. "I'm taking a break."
"He's so cute," Lizzy told her.
"Yeah, when he's sleeping," said the woman grimly, "but thanks."
"Lizzy, you're already late," Jack reminded her, tugging on her hand.
"Oh, right—bye!" she called to the woman, as they walked away. "Merry Christmas!"
Lizzy and Jack walked on in silence. They exited the building, and the sudden cold made Lizzy shiver. Jack let go of her hand and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. "It's warmer, isn't it?" Jack told her. Lizzy nodded; she knew she was blushing again. "So, you're a photographer."
"Yeah," said Lizzy quickly, wondering how Jack didn't know this about her. Then again, she always came to Caribou with schoolwork; it was much easier to work on photographs from her darkroom. "For a really long time. For years. It's the only thing I've ever really wanted to do. Besides leave home." Lizzy couldn't remember why she parked so far away; she was way at the end of the parking garage.
"I'd like to see them sometime," Jack said. "Your photos."
"Okay," said Lizzy. "Sure."
"When did you start then? I assume it was after you left home."
"A couple months before I quit modeling."
"You were a model?"
Lizzy mock-scowled. "Don't act so surprised, Jack; I'll get insulted."
Jack grinned. "It's only that I can't believe I missed the career of such a beauty."
Lizzy snorted, rolling her eyes at Jack's flattery. "Well, it was only a couple years, and I was too short to ever make it big. That's where I got interested in photography; the nice ones—photographers, I mean—would explain all the equipment between stills."
"Did one of them just give you a camera?"
"No, I bought my own camera," said Lizzy. "Actually, when I took my first real photograph, instead of—you know, touristy shots--I'd just finished a shoot with a real asshole. He was a perv; he kept feeling up the other girls." Lizzy knew she was babbling, she knew that Jack probably didn't want to know all this, but she couldn't help herself. "He didn't mess with me; I think I had a reputation for giving back what I got. Anyway, his next shoot was all set up; it was a new band, all dressed and ready to pose for the cover of some magazine. But the asshole-photographer was on the other side of the studio chewing out an intern. I saw a great shot, so I took it. I took a few actually, but then, one of the band members noticed me and asked me what I was doing. I left; I think I winked at him, though. I think he knew how much trouble I'd get in if I was caught."
Jack grinned. "Sounds like something I'd do."
"What?" laughed Lizzy. "Candid photos?"
"No, winking and running."
Lizzy pointed to the old blue Volvo a few feet away; she hoped Jack didn't see the basket of dirty clothes in the backseat. The laundry mat was supposed to be the stop right after her exam. "This is mine."
Then, Jack kissed her again, thankfully keeping his hands—well, not to himself exactly but still in G-rated areas; she kissed him back, a little more quickly than before, and hoped that he wouldn't notice how rusty she was. It had been a long time since Greg.
He let her draw away but still kept his hands clasped around her waist; he was smiling and Lizzy took that as a good sign. "Better go."
"Better," agreed Lizzy and kissed him again. Then, he did let her go, and she did unlock her car and even took a seat behind the steering wheel. Before she closed the door, Jack gave her a quick peck on the nose. "The party," Lizzy blurted.
"What?"
"At Netherfield, the party," said Lizzy, nervous again. "Are you going? Everyone's invited, the whole town. But I guess Dar'll be there, so you probably don't want—"
"It'll take more than Will Darcy to scare me away, Lizzy." Jack smiled. "I'll be there."
"Good," said Lizzy, and she smiled. "Great, I'll see you there. Bye, Jack."
Jack nodded and closed the door for her; Lizzy watched him walk away. She sighed hugely and banged her head on the steering wheel.
I've got to talk to Jane, she thought, turning the ignition. Then, she noticed the time. Shit, I've got to go.
2.
Lizzy didn't get a chance to talk to Jane before Charlie's party; they were both too busy. Jane spent the entire day helping Charlie at Netherfield; Lizzy was busy cleaning up the apartment so that her father had a place to sleep. At least Charlotte had almost all of her belongings in the U-Haul; the living room was almost clear.
"Lizzy, have you seen my shoes?" Charlotte said, walking out of her room and stumbling.
"Yeah, you just tripped over them," Lizzy said, opening the pantry and knocking a whole dustpan full of dirt into the trashcan.
"Thanks," Charlotte huffed. Then she straightened, giving Lizzy the once over. "Lizzy, you look nice. Really nice."
Shrugging, Lizzy put the broom and dustpan away and tried not to look guilty. She'd told herself several times that she wasn't dressing up for Jack; she only went through the effort for the party and for all the work that Jane and Charlie had put in.
"I've never seen that dress," said Charlotte suspiciously. Lizzy felt suddenly self-conscious in her dark red chiffon dress, with a wraparound top that fit her really, really well and a skirt that flared past her knees. "Did you buy it?"
"A couple of months ago," said Lizzy defensively, and this was true. "It was on sale," she added, and this wasn't really true.
"And lipstick to match?" Charlotte commented dryly. "And eyeliner! Lizzy, what's going on?"
"What?" said Lizzy. "Am I not allowed to own eyeliner?"
"You can own it; you just can't use it," Charlotte told her. "Who is he?"
"Who?" said Lizzy carefully, but she knew she was blushing.
"Who is he?" Charlotte cried, smelling a secret. "Who-who-who? Come on, Lizzy; you have to tell me. I'm a soon-to-be married woman; I'm starved for romance."
"And whose fault is that?" Lizzy snapped. When Charlotte's face fell, Lizzy had to remind herself to not feel guilty.
The doorbell rang, and Lizzy went to answer it. As her heels clicked around the floor, Charlotte said, "Black, pointy, strappy shoes; there's definitely a guy."
Lizzy ignored her and opened the door, where a stout, bearded man with thinning red hair stood with his luggage. "Zippy!" he said and hugged her.
"Hey, Dad," Lizzy said grinning. "Don't crush the dress; I don't have time to iron it."
"You look lovely," he declared, without letting her go. Then, he backed up and had a look at her. After an inspection, he nodded, "Yep, just as I thought: you look lovely. I didn't know your hair was curly."
"Only with a lot of work," Charlotte said pointedly.
Lizzy put a hand to her curls, pulled back and pinned on top of her head. "I just put stuff in it," she said, frowning at Charlotte.
"Who's the guy?" asked her father sternly.
"Dad!" Lizzy groaned, ignoring Charlotte's smirk. "Dad, this is Charlotte Lucas, our roommate—for the next few days, at least; Charlotte, this is my father."
"Call me Ben," he said, taking Charlotte's hand and kissing it.
"Your parents named you Ben?" Charlotte asked horrified. "Ben Bennet?"
"No, they named me Francis, which is worse; I just ask people to call me Ben instead."
Lizzy mock-applauded. "Well done, Dad."
"I'm too old to change my name, Miss Elizabeth Zipporah Bennet," he told her. To Charlotte, he added, "I'd like to extend my congratulations. On your wedding."
Charlotte stared at Ben for a really long moment, her mouth falling slowly open; then she broke eye contact. "Thank you," she said and sniffed, bringing her hand to her face and wiping something away.
"Charlotte—" Lizzy said, taking a step forward, but Charlotte was moving towards the door.
"I have to go," Charlotte said quickly. "Collins—my fiancé," she explained to Bill, "he's waiting downstairs." She opened the door; a car honked. "That's him. Lizzy, do me a favor, and tell Jane that I put her Christmas present in her purse. Bye; see you two there."
"Bye, Charlotte—" Lizzy called, but the door slammed before Charlotte could reply.
"What'd you do to her?" Ben asked sternly.
"Nothing."
"I tell her congrats, and she bursts into tears," Ben said. "You had to have done something."
"I lost my temper," Lizzy admitted.
"Surprise there."
"Hey, you," Lizzy snapped, fighting a grin. "I don't have to take this from you; this is my apartment. Go get dressed."
"Dressed?" asked Ben with wide innocent eyes. "We going somewhere, Zippy? You should've told me; I don't think I brought anything to wear."
"Bullshit," said Lizzy grinning. "If you didn't, what's in that garment bag out there? I bet it's even Armani."
"Aww," said Ben, patting Lizzy lightly on the head. "You know your old man so well."
3.
Netherfield, and especially its ballroom, was packed. And beautiful. The walls were hung with green and silver cloth; ribbons and garlands dripped from the chandeliers. Christmas trees stood in groups of threes in the corners, sparkling with strung lights; silver stars shone at their tops. Instead of ice sculptures, Charlie's snowmen stood guard over the punch and eggnog.
"You guys did a great job," Lizzy told Jane and Charlie.
"We did, didn't we?" said Caroline, smoothing her black dress, which was probably Versace again if Lizzy guessed correctly. Ben and Lizzy Bennet exchanged a look, both knowing exactly who had done all the work; Caroline probably plugged in the power cord to the Christmas lights and called it helping.
"It was a lot easier than I thought I'd be," said Jane.
Charlie laughed. "It's a hell of a lot easier when you can just hand the job to someone else."
"Ouch," said Lizzy. "Who's your party planner?"
"Sandy. That woman rallying the DJ team," said Charlie pointing. Lizzy looked; Sandy was also the only woman in the room with a business suit.
"She's very nice," Jane said.
"It all looks great, sweetie," Ben told Jane.
Jane looked up slowly, regarding him carefully through her eyelashes. "Thanks, Dad." Lizzy watched them smiling at each other.
"Miss Eliza Bennet," said a voice behind them.
"Oh, fuck," muttered Lizzy.
"Mr. Collins! Charlotte!" cried Charlie, reaching out to shake Collins' hand cordially. "Good to see you again."
"Yes, Yes," agreed Mr. Collins. His suit was blue, shirt black and his tie red. His arm was around Charlotte who looked distracted and pained and very pretty in dark blue dress. Collins was very fond of public displays of affection; he seemed to think it would bother Lizzy. It bothered her more that Charlotte seemed uncomfortable. "Thank you for inviting us; lovely home you have, Mr. Bingley. I've told you this before, but you must never tire of hearing it. Lovely home, lovely party. Christmas trees, decorated--$50 each. Snowmen sculptures--$160 each. Wall hangings--$1000 each. Ribbons—"
"Don't remind me, Mr. Collins," Charlie said, wincing with a half grin.
"And I think Sandy might have found some better deals than the prices you just named," Jane said gently.
"Miss Eliza Bennet," Mr. Collins said.
"Yes, Mr. Collins," Lizzy said evenly.
"I wondered if you might do me the honor of agreeing to partner me in a dance," said Mr. Collins with a slight bow.
Caroline looked delighted. "What a wonderful idea! It's the perfect opportunity for the two of you to patch things up."
Lizzy blanched. She didn't want to dance with Mr. Collins; or rather, she didn't mind dancing with Mr. Collins so much as the possibility of Jack seeing her dance with Mr. Collins.
"We could let bygones be bygones," Collins continued. "Put all the water under the bridge. Just a friendly dance among old friends. Just—"
Great, thought Lizzy. If I say no now, I'll be interfering with bygones. Lizzy scanned the room and didn't see Jack. It was early; Jack probably hadn't even arrived yet. "Sure," said Lizzy, "if it's okay with Charlotte."
"Hmm?" said Charlotte sharply, as if she were just starting to pay attention again. "What?"
"You okay with me and your fiancé dancing?" asked Lizzy.
"Of course she is," said Mr. Collins. "A dance between friends is nothing more than—"
Charlotte smiled warmly and clasped Mr. Collins' hands. "You most certainly may not; honey, what are you thinking? Asking another girl to dance before you've even danced with your fiancée. Come on," she said, dragging Collins coyly but firmly to the dance floor.
"Well," said Ben, scratching at his beard. "That was a rescue if I ever saw one."
They watched the soon-to-be bride and groom start their first dance together. Collins lead his fiancée through a set of intricate, twitching steps that Lizzy didn't recognize, and Charlotte was doing her best to follow him.
"Is that the foxtrot?" asked Ben.
"It's Collins' version," Lizzy replied.
"Well, sweetie," Ben said to Jane, extending his hand to Jane. "Will you honor your old man with a dance?"
Jane smiled and took his hand. "Sure, Dad."
"Lizzy, me and you?" Charlie asked, arms open. "What do you say?"
"Charlie, are you just going to leave me?" asked Caroline, hands on her hips and emerald studs twinkling in her ears.
Lizzy ignored her. "Absolutely," she told Charlie, walking with him toward the rest of the dancers. After all, she'd take him while she could get him; she figured he was going to be unavailable as soon as Jane was free. Besides, it wouldn't hurt Jack any to see her already with a partner.
4.
The room filled up fast. Soon there were so many people on the dance floor that Lizzy felt like she had no space to breathe, but after a couple cups of eggnog, she didn't mind the crush so much. After dancing with three of her classmates, she took a break for something cold to drink and the chance that she might be able to spot Jack better from the refreshment tables.
With a cup of punch in her hand, standing next to the tallest snowman sculpture, Lizzy still couldn't find Jack; she decided to just remain conspicuously alone and wait for him to find her. She smiled when she noticed Jane and Charlie dancing in the corner next to the speaker, their arms around each other. There was a little space between them and the rest of the crowd; Charlie's celebrity had its benefits, or maybe the crowd was just respecting the host and his space.
Lizzy felt a presence behind her and looked up to see her father frowning down at her. "I love dancing," she told him, tilting her head and stretching her arms toward the dance floor.
"I think you need to lay off the eggnog, Zippy," said Ben still frowning.
"I know," Lizzy said grinning. "That's why I went for the punch." Then, she noticed the camera slung over his shoulder. "Ooo, gimme!" she said, reaching for it.
Ben pulled it off his shoulder and handed it to her. "Careful," he told her.
"Don't worry," Lizzy said, bringing the lens to her eye and waiting until Charlie spun Jane and her skirt flared out around her. Click. "I'm a pro at this," she told her father. "Well, not really—not yet anyway, but you get the idea."
Ben leaned against the table, arms crossed. "You know, I like him."
"Me, too," said Lizzy, zooming in for a shot of Charlie's face leaning over the curve of Jane's neck, his eyes closed, his nose in her hair. Click. "Jane couldn't have found a nicer guy."
"He can't take his eyes off of her," Ben commented.
"Duh, Dad," Lizzy said, glancing at him. "Look at how gorgeous she is." Jane's dress was silver blue, something clinging and floaty and backless and beady that Lizzy could've never pulled off. "She looks like a 40's movie star."
"20's, Zippy; you're getting your decades mixed up," said Ben. "And don't call me Dad; you'll blow my cover."
Lizzy snorted and snapped a shot of Charlie spinning Jane out; it was amazing how easily love could make ordinary dancers seem like Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers. "Yeah, I saw you flirting with Jane's anatomy professor; if you pick a woman up, go back to her place. There's a limit to the weird points me and Jane can handle, and our dad on our couch with last night's date is going way, way over."
"Speaking of which, Zippy, you're hogging the prop for my best pick-up lines," Ben said.
"Tough shit," said Lizzy, wondering if she could get closer.
"Don't you want to dance? You love dancing," Ben reminded her, imitating her with his arms stretched wide and his head tilted. Lizzy shot one of Charlie dipping Jane.
"No," said Lizzy. "I'm waiting for someone."
"He's not coming."
"He's not?" Lizzy said, looking up. "Who's not coming?"
"Jack, right?" Ben asked. "He called."
"He called? Why'd he call you?" asked Lizzy scowling.
"He called you," Ben said. "You made me carry your cell phone, remember?"
Lizzy took some quick, careful shots of Jane and Charlie. "No, but it sounds like something I'd do. This dress doesn't have any pockets, and last time I tried to carry it in my cleavage, it fell out when I did a shimmy."
"Ugh, Zippy—I didn't need to hear that."
"Sorry, Dad. Did I…did I give Jack my cell phone number?" Lizzy asked frowning.
"I don't know."
"Did he give a reason? For not coming?"
"Uh…" said Ben thinking. "No."
"I bet it was stupid Dar," Lizzy muttered darkly, snapping a half dozen shots in quick succession. "Jack was all like, 'It'll take more than Will Darc—Darlington to keep me away.' Stupid. So full of shit."
"Lizzy, he had a girl with him," Ben said carefully, and Lizzy looked at him sharply, trying to tell if he was lying. "A very giggly one."
"Oh," said Lizzy sobering. She lifted the lens to her eyes and caught a frame with Charlie's hand on Jane's bare back. "Oh." It wasn't like it was a big deal; they weren't exclusive. Jack wasn't hers; it wasn't like she wanted him to be or anything.
"Zippy…" said her father with concern, placing a hand on her shoulder.
"Elizabeth Bennet," said another voice behind her, and she and Ben turned. It was Will; Lizzy hadn't recognized his voice because he'd switched back to an American accent.
"Mr. Dar…" Lizzy said, stretching out the first syllable until the panic sprouted in his eyes, "…lington!" she finished grinning. "How ya doin'? This is my dad, Francis Bennet; Dad, this is Fitzwilliam Henry Darlington. Mr. Darlington works with Mr. Bingley."
They shook hands. "Ben," said Lizzy's father; Will nodded gravely.
"I've come to ask you if you'd join me for a dance," Will said.
"Uh…" said Lizzy. "Pictures, I'm taking them—" To prove it, she backed up and took an idle shot of Will's long limbs encased in a well-fitting, expensive-looking suit. His dress shirt was blue; his tie was bluer. Lizzy remembered suddenly that he hated pictures.
"No, you don't," said Ben, lifting the camera out of Lizzy's hands.
"Hey!" cried Lizzy, and Will couldn't help smirking, remembering Lizzy's face when she'd thought he'd ruined her film.
"It's my camera," Ben reminded her. "You can't hide behind a lens all your life, Lizzy."
Lizzy sulked, and the song changed to a slow ballad of a dysfunctional relationship; she looked up at Will. "Well, Mr. Darlington; I guess that's our cue."
5.
They were waltzing; it'd been years since Lizzy had waltzed, not since teen cotillion and its many itchy dresses forced on her by her mother. This waltz wasn't a whole lot more comfortable; her skin tingled, kind of, or burned almost where her partner held her. She hadn't realized she hated him this much. She decided it must have been what Jack had told her; it had just pushed her right over the edge.
"Okay, we should probably say something," Lizzy said after a whole minute of silence. "Here, I'll say something about how big the room is, and you can something about how many people it fits."
"Do you normally script your conversations while dancing?" said her partner softly, just about her ear. He'd switched back to his natural British accent, and it annoyed Lizzy, who thought he should just pick one and stick to it for a whole evening.
"Only when I'm slightly tipsy, and I'm dancing with someone socially awkward," Lizzy replied.
"I'm not socially awkward," Will said, insulted.
"Well, I'm definitely tipsy," admitted Lizzy. "It was the eggnog. No, it was my alcohol tolerance. It sucks nowadays; when I was in New York, I could let three employers buy me drinks in an hour and I'd still be able to manage myself. Now, all it takes is two, and I end up pretty stupid things."
Will didn't trust himself to answer.
Lizzy giggled. "And I ramble."
After another moment, Will asked quietly, "Are you often at the Caribou?"
Lizzy wrinkled her nose. "Why don't you just ask me about Jack and be done with it?"
Will was silent.
"Mr. Darcy, I won't tell you if you won't ask," Lizzy told him in a sing-song.
Will did not reply.
"I guess I should tell you that I study at that Caribou a lot," Lizzy mused. "You did ask that."
Will was stubbornly silent.
Lizzy mock-gasped. "Could Mr. Darcy be too proud to ask? But what reason could justify such a response—"
"Do not deliberately misunderstand me," snapped Will.
"But it's so easy to misunderstand you, Mr. Darcy," Lizzy chirped and yawned.
"Forgive me; am I boring you?" Will asked sharply.
"Well, you're not much of a talker."
"I'm doing my best," said Will harshly.
"Uh-huh, you're getting better; I've gotten a few rises out of you anyway," Lizzy commented, glancing toward a group of girls in very short skirts and matching 'We Love B.F.D.' tops. "You know, the party's great, but I think some people are disappointed. I think they were expecting a private B.F.D. concert for the little town of Vickroot. Obviously they didn't read the invitations. Or the flyers."
"I believe Charlie considered the option, but we haven't yet recovered from the tour," Will said conversationally. "I also believe Charlie expressed a wish to dance."
"Yeah, he's a good dancer. Or Jane is. One of them. They both look good," Lizzy said, skimming the room over Will's shoulder for Charlie and her sister. She spotted them near the same corner that they were at before, also waltzing but holding each other much closer than Lizzy had ever held a partner, especially her current one. Jane's head was on Charlie's shoulder, and his arm around her waist kept pulling her tighter. Lizzy wished she had her camera. "There they are," Lizzy sang smiling. "They look so happy."
"Hmmm?" said Will, turning both of them so he could look. When he saw them, he blurted, "My God! He loves—" He stopped himself and looked down at Lizzy, eyes wide and mouth open.
"He what?" Lizzy said, a slow smile creeping across her mouth.
Will closed his mouth and straightened up. "He loves dancing," Will said firmly.
"Uh-huh," said Lizzy smirking. "Well, I'm pretty sure that Jane loves dancing too, so I'm sure that they'll be very happy together."
Lizzy beamed for a whole minute, sneaking glances at Jane around her partner, until Will released her, saying "I must go."
"What?" said Lizzy, as he started to walk away. "Did I step on your foot?"
Will turned, returned to the space in front of her, and actually bowed; Lizzy gaped. "No, forgive me; I must—" he said softly. Then, louder, with an American accent that startled Lizzy even more than the bow, he added, "I'm sorry; I have to go."
Lizzy watched him walk away, still gaping; then she closed her mouth, sighed, and decided she could use a little more eggnog.
6.
The next morning, Lizzy woke up in a dark mood, because everything was too bright, her head hurt, and standing up too fast made her feel nauseous. She couldn't remember how she got home last night, but she had vague memories of a car and feeling very, very uncomfortable. She took a shower, dressed, and stumbled out of her room, tripping over a three-piece suit that looked way too small to be her father's. Then, she remembered and grimaced: Mr. Collins had driven her home; at every stoplight, he'd taken the opportunity to make out with Charlotte. No wonder she'd felt uncomfortable.
If Lizzy had been feeling better, she would've left and run errands or something rather than stay and risk the sight of Collins in his underwear or worse, but this was her apartment, damn it. He couldn't force her out of her own home.
She grabbed the newspaper from outside the door and went to go brew herself some coffee.
Somebody knocked twice softly on the door, and Lizzy noticed the empty couch and guessed it was her father. "It's open," she called, feeling too lazy to walk all the way across the room.
The door opened, and there was Ben Bennet making a face. "It's open? Come on, Lizzy; burglars and rapists work on Sundays, too. Do you always keep your door unlocked?"
"Only when I get the paper with a hangover," Lizzy said.
Ben closed the door and locked it. "You, too?"
"Unfortunately," said Lizzy; she pointed at his beard. "You know you should shave."
"I should shower," Ben corrected.
"Without that beard, you'd look five years younger," said Lizzy. "You'd get more dates."
"With a shower, I'd feel five times better," said Ben, going to his luggage and pulling out a toiletry bag. "And do you really think I need help with my love life?"
Lizzy didn't think she should comment on that. "Second door on your right's the bathroom; towels are under the sink."
"Thanks, Zippy," said Ben, stopping to kiss her on the forehead on his way to the bathroom.
"Don't forget to brush your teeth," Lizzy advised, making a face. "Your breath reeks."
"Brat," Ben called back.
When he left the shower, beard intact but dressed in jeans and flannel, Lizzy was making pancakes. "Want any?" she asked him.
"Sure," said Ben, sitting down at the table with a large black folder.
"Hey—that's my portfolio!" Lizzy protested, pointing her spatula at him.
"I know," said Ben, opening the folder. On the top of the stack, there was a portrait of Jane, turned halfway away but looking back at Lizzy and into the lens with a tolerant smile. "You wanted me to see it anyway; you'd have shown it to me already if you could've figured out a way to bring it up."
"Get syrup on any of those prints, and you're going to be in big trouble," Lizzy warned.
"Relax," said Ben. "It's not like I've never handled prints before."
Lizzy snorted and dropped a plate of pancakes on the table. "Not mine, Dad, and you need to ask next time."
"Have you taken an aspirin yet?" Ben asked, flipping the page to look at the next photograph.
"No."
"Might want to. You're cranky."
Lizzy slammed the spatula down so hard it clanged. "Dad," she said glaring. "Don't just laugh it off."
"All right, Lizzy," said Ben, looking up and opening his reading glasses. She calmed herself down; he only called her 'Lizzy' when he was really serious. "I won't touch your stuff without your permission again."
Lizzy hated that he knew what she was really mad about; he hadn't spent enough time with her to know her so well. "Thanks," she sighed and turned off the coffeepot. "Coffee's ready."
"You shouldn't drink coffee; it's bad for you," Ben said, peering at the photos. "Maybe Jane'll take some; you probably woke her up with your Spatula of Fury."
"Jane's not here," Lizzy told him, "but I did wake her up. Called her cell phone."
"Jane's not here?"
Lizzy snorted. "Relax, Dad. She just crashed at Netherfield, and before you ask, no—this doesn't happen a lot." Lizzy smirked. "She's probably just following her old man's example."
"You are way too smart for your own good," said Ben, chewing a mouthful of pancakes and pointing at her with her fork; Lizzy laughed, delighted. "Now that laugh of yours definitely woke someone up."
"Charlotte and Collins," said Lizzy coldly. "It's two already; I think they'll live. Besides they're getting married tomorrow. They're bound to have stuff to do."
Ben flipped to another photo. "Some of these are really good, Zippy."
Lizzy beamed. "Thanks, Dad."
"Some of them aren't," Ben said, pulling one of the pile and squinting at it. "What the hell is this?"
"I loved that shot!" Lizzy said indignantly. "It was a pier on this lake up Highway 62, and it was falling apart, and the thunderstorm—"
"I don't care," Ben interrupted. "That one needs to go back to the darkroom; it's overexposed. You can't make anything out."
"I already spent a week with it," Lizzy said.
Ben tossed down the photo down on the table. "Then you're going to have to learn that sometimes great shots don't make for great photos. The ones that are supposed to turn out will turn out; the ones that aren't won't."
Lizzy glowered and snatched it from his hand. "I like it."
"Keep it then; just don't put it in your portfolio," Ben told her. "No one else wants to see it."
Lizzy was about to snap something back, when the door to Charlotte's room opened and Charlotte walked out, black smudges around her eyes and hair in weird tufts around her head.
"Whoa, Charlotte—did you fall asleep with your eye makeup on?" Lizzy said grinning. "Cause you're pulling a Bride of Frankenstein right now?"
Charlotte pulled her Spongebob Squarepants robe closed around her and tied it with dignity. "Coffee," she grunted.
"In the pot," Lizzy said, pulling out a mug (also Spongebob, Charlotte's favorite) and handing it over. "It's fresh."
"Mmm," Charlotte groaned and staggered toward it.
"Are you okay?" Lizzy asked.
"Coffee," Charlotte grunted reproachfully and poured herself a cup.
Ben covered his face, but Lizzy could see him smiling under his hands. Lizzy grinned, took a couple Advil out of its bottle, and filled a glass of water. "Here, babe," Lizzy told Charlotte, holding out the glass and the pills. "You need it more than I do."
Charlotte looked at the gifts and then at Lizzy, and then she hugged her around the neck. "Love," Charlotte said firmly.
"Well, this is touching," said Ben dryly from the table.
"Way to ruin the Kodak moment," said Lizzy grinning as Charlotte downed the pills.
"Kodak? You're still using the Kodak film?" asked Lizzy's father alarmed.
"It's just a figure of speech, Dad," Lizzy said, watching Charlotte take another mug out of the cupboard and pour another cup of coffee. "You know, Charlotte—you're not going to drink it any faster even with two mugs."
Charlotte looked up, pressing her lips together. "One's for Collins," she said softly.
"Oh," said Lizzy, the smile falling off her face; she'd forgotten about Collins, just for a few minutes. It'd been so nice to go back to the way things were. Charlotte watched the resolve Lizzy's scowl into stone, sighed, and returned her room.
Lizzy started the dishes.
Ben examined another photo—this one of Charlotte sleeping (or passed out, rather) on the couch. Her head was huge in the foreground; her face was clean of makeup because she'd been crying before she passed out and Lizzy'd made her wash her face. The disheveled dress she was wearing, the hickies on her collarbone, and the stains on her skirt—all evidence of the one night stand Charlotte had inflicted on herself in her search for love—were barely noticeable next to the innocent luminance of Charlotte's face in sleep. Lizzy had named the photo "What Really Matters."
"You know, Lizzy," Ben said, "whenever I want to know who's really important in my life, I look in my darkroom and see who I've hung up to dry."
Lizzy whirled around scowling and was so angry for a moment that she couldn't speak. Finally she said, "I'm sure it was real crowded in there with all those pictures of me and Jane drying on the walls."
Ben Bennet stared at Lizzy over the tops of his glasses and took a slow, even breath. "Ouch, Lizzy."
"Yeah, well—I don't appreciate you coming in here and trying to use my portfolio to teach me life lessons," Lizzy snapped. "If you've got something to say to me, say it straight out."
"Fine," he said. "How's this: don't you think you've punished Charlotte enough?"
"Don't have to," said Lizzy, turning back to the sink and scrubbing at the pan furiously. "She's doing a good enough job of it by herself."
"I know you're trying to get her to realize her mistake and quit by withdrawing all your support," said Ben, "but do you really think she's going to back out at this point?"
"No," muttered Lizzy.
"Well then, what good are you doing? Don't you think she's going to have enough to handle over the next couple days without adding your attitude to it?"
"Don't you—" Lizzy started, but the door flew open and Jane walked in with the jangle of keys and the ringing announcement, "I'm home."
Lizzy softened. "Hey, Jane."
"Hey," said Jane, entering the kitchen and beaming; she threw her keys on the counter and leaned against it, picking a thread off of her dress and brushing at the beads. "How's it going? Ooo, do we have coffee?" She crossed the room and picked up the pot, sniffing. "It smells so good."
"Uh, Jane—you seem to be in the wrong place," Lizzy said. "This is our kitchen, not Cloud Nine."
Jane threw her arms out wide, grinning. "Cloud nine hundred million trillion."
"Uh-huh…" Lizzy said slowly. "You wanna tell me about it?"
Jane hugged herself, still beaming but shaking her head no.
"You sure?" Lizzy asked, raising one eyebrow.
"I'm sure," Jane said and bent to kiss Ben on the head. "Morning, Dad." She walked across the room and hugged Lizzy, whispering in her ear, "I'll tell you later" with a significant glance at their father.
Lizzy rolled her eyes. "Fine."
Jane kissed her twin's cheek. "I love you," she told Lizzy before walking into her room.
"I don't like him anymore," Ben said darkly, scowling at Jane's closed door. "In fact, I might kill him."
Lizzy smirked, leaning against the counter as she dried the frying pan. "Relax; Jane didn't sleep with him."
"How do you know?" Ben asked.
"Because that's not how Jane acts when she's been with a guy."
Ben winced and returned to Lizzy's portfolio. "I didn't need to hear that."
Lizzy grinned impishly. "I know."
7.
For all the work that went into it, for all the catalogs on the floor and all the sample flower arrangements on the counter, and all the bridesmaid's dresses she made the Bennet twins try on, for all the stress that Charlotte and the people around her had been through, the wedding hadn't turned out well at all. There was too much melancholy in everyone's mood; none of the guests were smiling, except Jane who was trying too hard to make up for everyone else. Or maybe Lizzy imagining things. Or maybe it would get better. After all, the ceremony hadn't even started yet.
Lizzy snapped a shot of the nearest flower arrangement, all roses in various shades of pink. Charlotte slipped out of the side room, tugging her dress into place; it was old-fashioned, a little too old-fashioned to suit Charlotte, with its high collar and tight, long sleeves. Lizzy guessed that Collins had picked it out. As Charlotte bent carefully and adjusted her shoe buckle, Lizzy examined her critically. Maybe her eyes were too wide set to let Charlotte be…well, as stunning as Jane, or maybe her lips were a little too thin, or her chin too pointed. But Lizzy couldn't understand how Charlotte could tell people that she wasn't pretty. Lizzy told herself she wasn't going to cry; she lifted her camera and framed another shot—of Charlotte bent, skirted lifted and shoe outstretched, her veil and dress flowing down the curve of her back. Click. She'd call it "Walking the Plank—in Style."
Charlotte looked up, startled. "What are you doing?"
"Taking pictures," said Lizzy, "like always. Back up; I want to get a full-length shot before you get in there and start sweating under the pressure." She stepped back and snapped a shot, and then she saw the relief on Charlotte's face. "Come on, Charlotte; you have to smile. You're ruining the picture." The bride stepped forward and hugged Lizzy tightly around the shoulders. "Whoa…uh, whoa; Charlotte, you're going to crush my dress." Lizzy gasped and pushed Charlotte quickly away. "You're going to ruin your dress; it'll show up in all your pictures!"
"I—" Charlotte started and sniffed, wiping her eyes. "Shit, I'm going to ruin my makeup. I told them not to hire a photographer, because I wanted you to…I hoped. I mean, it is my wedding day, after all."
"You can still leave," Lizzy said, taking Charlotte by the shoulders, and she hated the desperation in her voice. "It's not too late; you can go still, Charlotte. I'll tell them—"
Jane slipped in through the door to the main area of the church; Lizzy couldn't help but notice again how bubble gum pink wasn't a good look for her. "Hey—we're ready," Jane said and smiled. "You know, when you are."
Charlotte steeled herself, shook her shoulders back, and settled her bouquet into place. "It's okay, Lizzy," she said, shrewdly staring down the aisle to where Collins was standing, eye-popping in an eggplant-colored tux. "There's always divorce."
Lizzy survived the ceremony by reducing it to a series of shots:
The bride (Charlotte) gliding down the aisle with a smile plastered on her face; part of her veil snagged on her diamond earrings (engagement presents from the groom—to match the ring).
Gently smiling, the maid of honor (Jane) taking Charlotte's bouquet in one hand and prying Charlotte's veil loose from her earring with the other.
The clasped hands of the bride and groom: Collins' gloved (in white), Charlotte's bare.
A classic shot—the bride and groom's back and the bishop with his arms raised. It was a Catholic ceremony (Caroline converted; she had been baptized in November.), and the light was coming from directly behind the altar; the bishop's hat cast a shadow on the couple.
A snap of Mr. and Mrs. Lucas. Charlotte's father, already too drunk to even give his daughter away; Charlotte's mother, steely-eyed but crying.
In the background, blurry silhouettes of the bride and groom; in the foreground, Jane, both bouquets hanging limply out of her hand, doing her best to look happy.
A profile shot of the couple. Collins is wiping his brow with a light-blue handkerchief; Charlotte is still smiling.
The exchange of the rings: Collins sliding the wedding band onto Charlotte's finger; he's already wearing his own over his glove.
Kissing the bride. Eyes closed; hands clasped. (Lizzy didn't want to dwell on it.)
Walking down the aisle. Arms linked. Collins waving like Julie Andrews in The Princess Diaries. Charlotte with a reclaimed bouquet, chin lowered, eyes fierce, ready to charge.
At the reception, Ben found Lizzy snapping shots of the wedding cake way over on the other side of the room from the dance floor and the other guests. "You did really well out there," he told her.
Lizzy sighed, slow and even. "Thanks, Dad."
"Lizzy, you can put the camera down," Ben said. "I can see you crying."
Lizzy let the camera fall back on her shoulder, wiping away her tears with the palms of her hands. "I'm just frustrated," Lizzy said sourly. "It's just so..." Lizzy gulped, pressing her lips together.
"Come here, sweetie," he sighed, pulling her into a hug.
"It's so stupid," Lizzy said angrily. "She's not going to be happy. She thinks she'll have time to paint and she'll be happy, but she won't. I'm just so scared that it's going to kill something in her and she'll never be the same."
"I know, Lizzy," said Ben softly, "but you have to let her make her own mistakes. She's a grown girl."
"I wish life had an Undo button," Lizzy muttered into her father's shirt. "You know, like on computers."
"What would you do?" Ben asked. "Tie Charlotte up until she came to her senses?"
"Of course not," Lizzy said. "I'd just chase Collins away before he got to Charlotte." She sniffed and wiped her eyes. "Where's Jane?"
"Over there," said Ben pointing. "Sampling appetizers."
"Probably trying to deter her many admirers," Lizzy said. "She's too pretty for her own good."
"Pink's not her color, though."
Lizzy wrinkled her nose. "Yeah, Charlotte picked one of the few colors that a redhead can't pull off. Unless you're Molly Ringwald in Pretty in Pink. I don't know what Charlotte was thinking."
"I bet she was thinking that the bridesmaid shouldn't to out-do the bride," Ben said.
"No…" said Lizzy, mouth open and half-turning to see how serious he was.
"Yep," said Ben firmly; then he grinned down at Lizzy. "She didn't manage, though; you're far prettier."
Lizzy remembered again what Charlotte had told her about her being pretty. "Don't say that," she said softly.
"Lizzy!" said a voice behind them.
Lizzy turned. "Charlotte," she said, trying to smile; then she saw the person Charlotte was leading over and stopped trying. "Jack."
"'lo, Lizzy," said Jack, grinning until he saw the tearstains on her face. "This is a bad time."
"No, it's a good a time as any," Lizzy said evenly.
Charlotte leaned in so close that her veil brushed Lizzy's cheek and Lizzy could smell the champagne on her ex-roommate's breath. "There's something I don't know, isn't there?"
Lizzy shrugged. "Yeah, but don't worry about it, it's okay. I needed to see him to clear some stuff up."
"I need to go dance with my husband," Charlotte said.
"Yeah," sighed Lizzy, "I guess you do."
"Tell me later?"
"Charlotte, you'll be on your honeymoon."
Charlotte mock-pouted. "Call me? As a wedding present? "
Lizzy rolled her eyes. "Fine. Go dance."
"I'll go, too," said Ben, as Charlotte waved and walked off. Then, he bent and whispered in Lizzy's ear, "Go easy on him, Zippy; he's no match for you."
He started off, but Lizzy called, "Oy!" When Ben turned back, she reached her hands out. "Camera."
Ben grinned and snapped a quick shot of Lizzy. "Need a couple pics of you, too," he reminded her. Then, he placed the camera in her hands, and stepped forward to kiss Lizzy on the cheek. "Have fun," he told Jack smiling.
"Friend of yours?" asked Jack coldly as soon as Ben was out of earshot.
"My dad."
"Oh," Jack said in an entirely different tone; Lizzy hated that he looked so good. This was the first time she'd seen him in a suit, and it suited him a little too well for her to be comfortable. "You should've introduced me."
"I think he knows who you are," Lizzy said, snapping a shot of Collins leading Charlotte to the dance floor. "You two met over the phone."
"Oh, that was him?" Jack said lightly.
"Yeah, I didn't feel like carrying a purse." Lizzy noticed her father asking Jane to dance and took a series of stills of their awkward maneuvering; she waited for Jack's apology.
"Would you like to dance?" Jack asked, offering his hand.
Lizzy glanced at him. "I'm working."
"Oh? They paying you?"
Lizzy caught another shot of Charlotte's parents, who were holding hands and watching their daughter with resignation. "Only in brownie points."
Jack snatched up a glass of champagne from the refreshment table next to the cake. "She's your roommate, isn't she?"
"She was; she'll be living with her husband now."
"Did you find a new roommate yet?" He was gulping down the champagne like water.
Lizzy glanced at him to see if he was looking to move in. Worse, she decided. He's just trying to sustain the conversation. "Yeah, our cousin Lydia. She graduated from high school a semester early, and she doesn't want to live in any of the dorms."
"Ah," said Jack. Then, he grinned, and it annoyed Lizzy that he was trying to recapture something they once had. "I bet you didn't expect to see me here; Charlotte came to Caribou yesterday to invite me."
"That was nice of her," Lizzy admitted, reminding herself to thank Charlotte later, "and no, I didn't expect to see you here." She snapped another shot of her father and Jane and then one of Charlotte grabbing another glass of champagne from the waitress. "I expected to see you at Netherfield."
"Oh," said Jack with obvious relief; here it comes, Lizzy thought. The brilliant excuse. "Sorry about the other night, Lizzy; I got tied up with something I couldn't get out of it."
"Uh-huh—what was her name?" said Lizzy.
"Pardon me?" Jack said startled.
"The girl who did the tying," Lizzy said.
Jack swallowed the rest of his champagne in one gulp; Lizzy hoped he got the hiccups. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Don't give me that shit," snapped Lizzy.
Jack was silent, staring at the dance floor. "I'm sorry I hurt you, Lizzy."
"Don't flatter yourself," Lizzy told him quietly. "I'm more pissed at you for lying."
Jack raked his hand through his hair; it stood in so many odd directions that Lizzy couldn't resist taking a picture. She laughed at the surprise on his face. "Relax, Jack," she said. "We'd make much better friends anyway."
He grinned sheepishly. "I'm afraid you're right, Lizzy; you're way too much for me."
Lizzy snorted. "A back-handed compliment, Jack?" she said, shaking her head ruefully. "I'm disappointed."
"Yes, well, how's this: I'm no good for you," said Jack grinning.
"Aww, but I knew that the second I met you," Lizzy told him.
"You see?" he said. "Definitely too smart for me."
Lizzy smiled at him and he smiled back, until the silence between them grew awkward. "I should go," Jack said.
"You should," Lizzy agreed.
"Bye, Lizzy," Jack said, kissing the corner of her mouth softly.
"Bye, Jack," she replied; as he walked away, she mused quietly that at least she didn't have to have go to Caribou to study anymore now that she had her apartment back. Now I just need to wean myself off coffee, she thought grinning and went to go take more pictures.
8.
At the end of the reception, Charlotte and her new husband piled into a car decorated with silver ribbons and tin bells (Collins scorned the traditional beer cans). While Ben Bennet got into the car with Molly Brettman, Charlotte Lucas' thesis advisor (who was a very attractive older woman once she was drunk enough to let her hair down), the Bennet twins climbed into their own car with relief. Jane was driving, because their father started pressing drinks into Lizzy's hands whenever she seemed like she was about to lose her temper with the newlyweds.
Jane was squinting in the dark and trying to make out the woman who'd invited their father home. "You know, Dad's bound to be attractive, because so many women are into him. But I just don't see it."
Lizzy kicked off her shoes and clicked her seatbelt. "He just offers himself as a designated driver, which apparently makes for the best pick up line ever."
"Doesn't it bother you that our father is taking advantage of women?" Jane asked, turning the ignition.
"Those women, and especially Professor Brettman, can take care of themselves," Lizzy told Jane. "At least Dad goes after women his own age."
"He could've called them a cab instead," said Jane scowling.
"He's not Charlie," Lizzy said, and she grinned. "Speaking of Charlie, you've avoided telling me about Netherfield for two days now."
"We were busy," Jane said, putting the car into reverse and backing out, "and Dad or Charlotte was always around."
"Stop apologizing and spill," Lizzy said grinning.
When Jane turned back around and shifted the car into drive, she was beaming. "Lizzy, I'm in love with Charlie."
"Well, I knew that," Lizzy said, huddling deeper into her coat and waiting for the heater to warm up.
"You knew? I didn't. Not until I kissed him."
"You kissed him? You kissed him?"
Jane was smiling so wide that Lizzy could count all her twin's dimples. "I'm so happy, Lizzy. I can't remember ever being this happy before."
"Well, don't leave me in suspense," Lizzy scolded. "Give me a play-by-play."
"So, after the party—" Jane started.
"Where both of you spent the entire night dancing together," Lizzy said.
"He asked me to come upstairs, because he wanted me to have my Christmas present," Jane continued.
"Ooo, that's a good pick-up line, too," said Lizzy. "I wonder if Dad's heard that one."
"Lizzy, I'll never finish this if you don't stop interrupting me," Jane huffed, and Lizzy clapped both hands over her smirking mouth. "Besides, I don't think that Dad could've pulled this off; Charlie wrote me a song."
Lizzy's hands dropped to her lap. "He wrote you a song?"
Jane nodded, pressing her lips together carefully but not managing to keep the corners of her mouth from curling upwards. "He was no nervous; he kept dropping his pick and fumbling with the sheet of lyrics."
"But B.F.D. doesn't write its own lyrics."
"This was Charlie's song, not B.F.D.'s."
Now Lizzy was smiling too. "What was it about?"
Jane's smile faded just a fraction. "He asked me not to talk about it; he says it's a work in progress and he's really sensitive about stuff like that."
"But I'm your sister! Your twin sister!"
"Lizzy, please. He's never asked me for anything."
Lizzy slumped in her seat, crossing her arms. "Fine. Maybe I can convince him to sing it to me later."
Jane nodded, the smile growing back on her face. "I guess I can tell you that it basically said that he really, really liked me and didn't know how to tell me."
"Liked you?" said Lizzy.
"Well, maybe that he loved me—it's kind of ambiguous," Jane admitted.
"Then, what did you do?" Lizzy asked.
"I…kissed him," Jane said slowly.
"That was pretty forward of you," Lizzy commented laughing.
"I know," Jane said, blushing and grinning. "I don't know what came over me. Well, actually I do know what came over me. Charlie just looked so cute, so uncertain and hopeful, that I just…" Jane sighed. "…bent down and kissed him."
"And you were pretty tipsy," said Lizzy.
"Yeah, I was out of it," admitted Jane ruefully. "Then I was embarrassed…"
"Because you were so forward," Lizzy said.
"…and I started apologizing and backing away to the door," Jane continued. "Charlie put down his guitar and caught me just before I managed to leave, and then he kissed me. And well, we were in his bedroom…"
Lizzy's mouth fell open. "You didn't have sex, did you? I told Dad you didn't."
"Almost," sighed Jane. "He had his hand on my zipper, and I really wanted to, but I also wanted him to respect me."
"You didn't want to be drunk your first time together," Lizzy said shrewdly.
"That, too," Jane said. "So we just slept with our arms around each other. All night long."
"That's…really romantic, Jane," said Lizzy softly. "Have you talked to him since then?"
"No, we've been playing phone tag," said Jane with a more subdued smile, "but on one of the messages, he sang me a new stanza to that song he wrote." Smiling, Lizzy turned to her sister and gripped Jane's hand firmly; Jane smiled back, squeezed Lizzy's hand, and took back her own hand to make a left hand turn onto their street. "I'm really happy, Lizzy."
"I'm happy for you," Lizzy said, and they smiled in silence for the rest of the ride. Lizzy kept sneaking glances at Jane, whose smile didn't waver for a second until after they'd let themselves inside the apartment and saw the door to Charlotte's old room gaping open.
"It's so empty," said Jane, peeking her head in.
"And bare," Lizzy said, leaning against the doorway. "I can't believe she took down all her posters."
"Lydia'll probably put some up," Jane said, rubbing Lizzy's back. "You'll see; it'll be fun. I'm going to miss Charlotte, though."
"I've missed her since she got engaged," Lizzy sighed.
Jane hugged her around the shoulders. "I need to take a shower."
"Okay, you can have it first," said Lizzy, kissing Jane on the cheek and walking into the kitchen. "I'm going to make myself some tea." She opened the cabinet and noticed the light blinking on their answering machine. "Hey, Jane! We have a couple messages!"
Jane stuck her head out of the bathroom, wrapping her robe around her. "Is it Charlie?"
"Let's find out," Lizzy said grinning and pressed Play:
"Jane, it's Caroline, Caroline Bingley," said the machine, and Lizzy didn't like how smug Caroline sounded. "I'm just calling to say goodbye. Me, Will, and Charlie are leaving this afternoon to go skiing at the Yellowstone Club in Montana; we go every year. I'm sure Charlie told you all about it, but Louisa's already gone and we're meeting dear Georgie there. We're taking the—"
The machine beeped off and told the Bennet twins the time of the recording (Tuesday, 2:14 PM), and Jane looked at Lizzy, a frown beginning between her eyebrows. "But…Charlie told me that they weren't leaving until tomorrow; I was going to drive him to the airport to say goodbye."
The second message clicked on. "Jane—Caroline, again. Your machine must have cut me off; I must've been rambling." Caroline laughed; the recording made it sound tinny and false. "Anyway, we're at the airport now, and we're headed to Montana to ski. After that, we're going directly to Boston for New Years. Will and Charlie have some B.F.D. things to do there, so we really don't know when we'll be back. Don't worry, darling; we'll keep in touch. Toodles!"
The answering machine beeped again and told them Tuesday, 2:16 PM; Jane frowned at it. "Why did Caroline call? Why wasn't it Charlie?"
"I don't know," Lizzy said, watching Jane's uncertainty. "Maybe he called your cell phone."
Jane crossed the room, fished her phone out of her purse, and flipped it open. "No," she said, looking from the phone to Lizzy. "Caroline said that she didn't know when they'll be back."
"He'll call," Lizzy told her when she heard the tremor in Jane's voice. "Charlie'll probably call." When this still didn't bring the smile back to Jane's face, she added, "Well, they're going to be in Boston, right? Aren't you and Mom driving there to spend the holidays at Aunt Grace's? You can just go surprise him while you're there," suggested Lizzy.
Jane turned to Lizzy and grinned. "Oh, Lizzy," she said.
"What?" said Lizzy startled.
"Always taking care of me," said Jane, putting her phone into its charger and walking toward the bathroom. "Always worrying. I'm the older sister, you know."
Lizzy knew that, but that didn't keep her from worrying. She had a very bad feeling about this. She hoped that it was just anxiety left over from Charlotte's marriage, but Caroline's smugness was echoing in her head. The Bingley sisters were up to something.