On The Market Chapter 27 - Twenty years hence, a pride and prejudice fanfic

His hands wrapped themselves around the back of her head, but he need not have held her so tight: she kissed him back very willingly indeed, and soon just as eagerly as he was kissing her.

They could have done this all night but he pulled back. Their heads brushed past each other's and hers settled on his shoulder. She stared into the mid-distance behind him and hung on for dear life. His heart was beating even harder than hers, she felt it through their several layers of winter clothing. She let her hand run over the back of his head, his neck, take an initial measure of his broad back.

'I'm not in trouble this time?' he whispered into the nape of her neck, his hands similarly exploring her. By way of answer she shook her head, rubbing it against his, and let her eyes close again. His hands travelled back to the sides of her head, peeled her away very slowly, then he held her face a few inches away from his:

'I'm sorry, Elisabeth, this must be the worst date you've ever been on.'

'No worries, I thought it was a work thing,' she smiled before a sudden, inexplicable surge of shyness made her look down.

He stared on at her and started tucking her hair back, one wild strand at a time:

'I guess technically yes, you're right,' he said, and peeking up she saw his face lit up by a broad, proud and devastatingly gorgeous smile, 'But then you made it perfectly clear you wouldn't go on a date with me, didn't you?'

He tried to look into her face, but with downcast eyes she carried on staring at the point where his clavicles probably met, and shook her head.

'I'm sorry, Will, I'm really sorry I've been such a …'

Oh but he was grinning for England, and looking back up at him and seeing him like this she started to blush, so he put her out of her misery and kissed her again, under the disapproving yet keen stare of the big bouncer, until their lips finally disengaged and their arms twined themselves around each other instead.

'You're OK?' he asked. He was tugging at the pashmina wrapped around her neck, his lips searching for a friendly place to rest, and eventually finding one behind her earlobe. She shut her eyes as tight as she could and then opened them again.

'Fine, thanks,' she whispered, lest speaking too loud should break the spell. He took her head up between his big hands again and got her to look at him:

'Really?'

'Yes, really!' she nodded, smiling through the remnants of this ridiculous, belated shyness.

'Brilliant. In that case, Elisabeth,' he said, letting go of her head now that she was looking at him, and grabbing her idle hands instead, 'let's take you on a date. May I take you on a proper date?'

'What…'

What's the point, she almost replied. But she stopped herself in time for once, and frowned at him, then at the ground: weren't they already, well, where people get to at the end of dates? Or at least towards the end of really really good ones.

'Look,' he said as if he'd read her mind, 'we don't want to look back twenty years hence and have this to remember for a first night out, do we?'

Unfortunately he was once again thumbing with oblivious rudeness at the huge bouncer behind him. So rather than taking him up on the even scarier "twenty year" thing she started by going up on tippy-toes to cast the bouncer an apologetic smile over Will's shoulder, grabbed a hold of his hand and slowly pulled it down.

And then, just in time, she remembered Jane's parting words. And why not? She did deserve to be taken on a proper date.

'Yes, Will. A proper date would be lovely,' she said, smiling as much to herself as to him. He was, understandably, a bit thrown by her return to full formal answers:

'You're sure about this, Elisabeth? With me? I'm not too thick for you or too… I've never been in a band and my French is rubbish.'

'If anything you might be a little too smooth but that's all, really. Are you sure I'm not too … I don't know plain or...'

'Plain?'

'I mean compared to…' she said, with a nod towards the club door and a thought for the perfect glittering specimens of womanhood behind it, 'Look, you might as well know this is the very best I can look. I've had help tonight, believe it or not.'

For a horrible moment she feared Will might agree with her, for instead of kissing her again he shot her the dreaded death-stare:

'OK, Elisabeth, you realise I've not sweated my gut out to ask you out tonight because you look pretty, right?'

Her face froze and her heart sank: suddenly she was 13 again, and the ugliest ugly duckling ever to waddle around the pond.

'Which you don't: you look gorgeous. I realise you try not to around the desk, but you still do,' he continued in the same exasperated tone.

That was better, but still Elisabeth felt compelled to hide some overhanging anxiety by smiling, which only upset Will all over again.

'I'm serious, Elisabeth! I'm fed up with pretending that this is all good casual fun. It's not, OK? This is hell for me. I fucking hate it, I hate sitting next to you all day, pretending to like you. I've bloody hated it from the time I walked into that bloody building and watched you... Oh Jesus, you do my head in, Elisabeth, you always have. You've no idea how many times I've all but chucked it in, no idea how hard it is for me sitting there all day, pretending I don't fantasise about us. It all but killed me, watching you email that two-timing wanker in Estonia every morning. I love you, Elisabeth. I do, I love you, deal with it. I've never met anyone remotely like you and I know full well I never will, so I haven't got the faintest interest in flirting with you, OK? I've tried but you know what, I do enough pretending all day without pretending with you as well. I love you. So if you're just after a bit of fun, or just after distracting yourself from Matey out in Estonia then tell me, please. Tell me now, while I can still fuck off with what's left of my dignity.'

'OK, please don't fuck off, Will, please don't.'

'You sure?'

She was, and she just could not conceive of him ever doubting it, though by the look on his face he still did. She did very much want to go out with him, yes, and not just because whatever he said he was, and would always be, miles out of her league in the gorgeousness stakes. No, she wanted to go out with him because she still had no idea why or indeed how Will put up with her half the time, but she knew that if he could love her at seven o'clock in the morning, if he could love her at the end of a day's programming, and if he could still love her after five and a bit months of watching her scoff lunch at her desk and drop crumbs and the occasional slop of mayo around her keyboard, then they had a better chance at happiness than most.

'I can't promise you twenty years time just yet, Will. I'd love to but knowing us both we'll probably have our moments. All I can promise you right now is that I'd really like to find out, is that OK?'

'It's fine,' he said, and kissed her again.

And that was the last she ever saw of the Kingsleyian death stare.

He took her to a restaurant a few streets away, which she thought at first was far too posh for her, until she remembered that she was for once in her life dressed for a posh date, and that Jane was right: posh dates could be great. An hour and a bit later on the pavement his parting peck on her lips turned into another lingering bout of hungry kissing. One of her hands wove its curious way underneath his undone dinner jacket, and started following the contours of his waist. All was irreproachably firm under her light, absent-minded touch. Her hand continued its journey around him until it found the small of his back and the groove where his spine ran. She ran her fingers up it for a second, and felt him tense up in one mighty shockwave rippling away from her hand. His lips left hers with a sharp intake of breath, and sought the refuge of her neck before breathing out again.

She slowly took her hand off him and a quiet smile rose on her lips. Never mind his flawless rower's physique: this was beautiful. Beautiful and priceless because it was hers, all hers and only hers. Venus herself never felt more blissfully powerful than Elisabeth Bennet did as she sent her hand forth again, this time fully aware of what she was doing.

'Elisabeth, Elisabeth hang on…' he panted, pushing her back.

'What?'

'You getting in, or not?' asked the cab driver.

Fair point. In their solipsistic bliss they'd forgotten all about him. She looked at the big dark void inside the cab, and sulked. No way she was leaving Will now, no no no. She couldn't stop now: she'd hardly scratched the surface. She absolutely must find out what else might happen to Will when she ran her hands on other parts of him.

'D'you want to come for a…'

'Love to.'

A what? Never mind, they got in and sat side by side, and smiled idiotically the whole way back to her flat.

So beguiled was Will that he didn't even notice Brenda when they got in. He and Elisabeth enjoyed another long kiss under her indifferent gaze before entering the lounge hand in hand, where they found Ben standing by the kettle. He turned around and ogled the two of them, his pale eyes and wide mouth even wider than usual.

'Hey there, Ben, so, this is Will,' she said to try and shake him out of it. Will was presently glued to her side, but went along with her effort at civility and even unglued himself for long enough to extend a hand to Ben.

'Will, this is my flatmate, Ben.'

'Hi,' they both said and shook hands, briefly and unsmilingly.

'Mac around?' she asked.

'Upstairs,' Ben replied, raising his eyebrows in the general direction of Mac's room with a long-suffering look. The American girlfriend had been staying over for almost a month now, and was fast taking over their kitchen with her vegan snacks and smelly herbal teas. She was also a frequent and thunderous lover. Elisabeth smiled and squeezed Will's hand for encouragement. He was beginning to relax, but poor Ben still looked shell-shocked.

She understood why a moment later, when someone stirred on the sofa, then got up. Only one thing for it:

'Will, this is Tom. Tom: Will.'

This time there was no awkward handshake, just a moment of leaden silence during which Tom got up and looked straight at Will. Will looked back at him and then down with one eyebrow quirked. Ben looked manically from one to the other. As for Elisabeth, she squeezed Will's hand tighter and tighter until Tom, of course, was the first to regain the use of speech:

'Will, Will… Will! Right! Yes, I think she might have mentioned you before. Way way back, last year. Back when I first met her, in fact.'

She winced.

'Great,' said Will, though he didn't look it.

'So you too, hey? But she is quick to enchant, is she not?' Tom said, looking at him with his wide lips curled up and the same half-crazed daggers in his eyes he'd shot her that first evening in Oxford. 'Had us all under her spell, I'm sure,' he said with a dramatic sweep of his long arm, 'the moment we met her, really. But mind that you love her well, Will: it turns out she is also peculiarly cruel in her revenge.'

Elisabeth's ears and cheeks were on fire. She stared at the dirty carpet for a second, unwittingly squeezing the life out of Will's hand. She heard him start:

'Look, Tom, I don't know what…'

'She?!' Elisabeth cut in, and gave Tom that narrowed-eyed, unblinking look that the Market Data Team had learnt to fear back at the office. 'Who exactly is she, Tom? Hmmm? Me? I'm right here!'

She saw Will look around at her, even more scared and confused than he had looked outside the club. It pained her to see him like this, yes, but for now she had to get on with this:

'Me, I have always been right here, and this, this has nothing to do with you or with revenge, Tom. It's got to do with..'

Was she really going to say it? Hell yes, she was:

'It's all to do with love. Good, old fashioned, uncomplicated monogamous love. You wouldn't understand but I'm sure glad he gets it,' she concluded, rudely thumbing at Will, 'So now good night.'

Will having thus handsomely helped make her point she dragged him away again, out of the lounge and into her room.

'You OK, Elisabeth?'

'Are you? Did he scare you?'

'No but you scared me a bit, I think. Was he drunk or something?'

'Oh no... I mean it's pretty likely, yes, but he can do this sober too.'

'Jesus, Elisabeth, are all your first dates like this?'

'I'm sorry,' she said, kicked her shoes off and leant her exhausted forehead against his chest with a sigh.

'Come here,' he said, wrapped one arm around the whole of her and with his other hand started stroking the back of her head.

'It's so unfair,' she moaned to his lovely chest, 'I mean I can't even remember when I last had a first date, any kind of date in fact…'

He kissed the top of her head, squeezed her a little tighter, then pushed her back away with the most beautiful grin on his face:

'Really? Who's a lucky boy then!'

'Thanks.'

She kissed him and as ever with them the kiss took on a life of its own. They had to mark a brief interruption to take off his shoes and get down onto her futon. All Will now had to contend with was one hook behind her neck and a zip running down her back, one that started a little too low down to allow her to wear any kind of corsetry underneath.

By contrast, and in one of life's many injustices to womankind, she had over half a dozen of those absurd screw-on buttons barring access to his tantalising torso, and he'd done them so tight that she'd only just managed to get the first one undone, with his help. She felt his hand searching the neck strap of her dress, and as he got the hook out of its eye she let out a small gasp of mixed pride and apprehension. She hoped he would like what he found as much as she was enjoying what she could feel of him under his shirt, but despite all his previous reassurances she couldn't help worry that he might not. Then miraculously in the middle of all this fizziness and worry she experienced one of her always random moments of engineering brilliance: she yanked his shirt out of his trousers and got to an expanse of bare skin more beautiful than anything she could have imagined.

Judging by his sudden intake of breath, Will enjoyed the moment every bit as much as she did.

xxx

'I'm sorry, Elisabeth, it's not you,' he mumbled, and she realised that she had no idea how long it had been since they'd used their mouths to speak. But now not only was he breaking for a chat, he was pulling away from her just as her hand was beginning to get familiar with his absolutely perfect butt.

'It's not you, Elisabeth, I swear.'

'What?'

She pulled the duvet to her chest and heard him let out a deep, angry sigh as he rolled over. The penny dropped with a disharmonious clang: engine stalled.

Would she ever catch a break?

Hang on though: engine stalled, him?

No, no surely it must be her, he couldn't even look at her right now. She extended a timid hand to his hair:

'I'm sorry Will, is there anything...'

'I can't believe this!' he hissed, pushing her hand away. She was busy slipping back into the ugly duckling's skin when he added: 'Jesus, I've done this in my head so many fucking...'

Elisabeth put a hand on his lips before they uttered more pointless profanities, and this time he let her.

'It's OK, Will, it's fine.'

He took her hand, kissed it, then moved it to his chest and rested it there, covered with his own, as he let out another sigh.

'No it isn't OK. This wasn't the plan.'

'Sorry,' she laughed – hysterical relief, she supposed – 'Sorry, Will, but has anything so far tonight been part of a plan? 'cos frankly that would be one hell of a fucked-up plan, excuse my French.'

He stroked her hand but said nothing.

'You know, I'd say we've done alright so far, actually. Considering. I mean I was certainly having fun.'

Though still too wounded to smile Will let his dark eyes soften again, and tucked his free hand under his head with another sigh. With the duvet running down and across to his hips he looked more beautiful than ever, perhaps because he did not seem to care whether he did or not. In the dim oblique light of her bedside lamp he was just in a different league, all perfect skin over muscles just taunt enough. A lovely symmetrical pattern in bas-relief, casting shadows in the grooves between each muscle, and absolutely begging her to run her fingers around them. And she made him nervous? Ha! Perhaps there were times in life after all, when it wasn't easier for the blokes.

Thinking about it though, it made sense for an ultra competitive trader to suffer a little performance anxiety. Right now poor Will was probably far too worried about out-shagging Tom to let himself have any fun with her, which whilst being a shame was also understandable. After all Tom was only two doors away and in all likelihood cursing both of them to hell eternal.

If only she could show Will how well he was doing, just to have her here stone cold sober and so stupidly happy. She briefly considered making him laugh at her pathetic, weed-induced and puke-inducing last sexual experience, but decided that bringing up Tom, however ironically, was likely to do more harm than good. No, now was the time to shut up, to shut up and enjoy what she had, i.e. a beautiful man inside and out, lying in her bed and far too worried about impressing her to get on with nailing her.

Besides, she thought with a private smile, if Will was going to apply the same degree of professionalism in her bed as he did back in the office, then she needn't worry: it would all be worth the wait.

'Will, according to you we've got twenty years to get this right,' she said, getting up to grab a t-shirt. 'So for now why don't you just hug me so we can get some sleep? You're a great hugger, you know,' she added, sidling back up to him and pulling the duvet back over them. Something to do with his size, the texture of his skin and its smell, but it was bliss to be in his arms.

'Get used to it,' he said.

Oh yes, that was the other thing about his hugs: he could kiss the top of her head at the same time. She kissed the base of his beautiful neck good night and turned over. He was spooning her now, only his lips wouldn't keep still, instead of going to sleep they kept burrowing into her neck and ever closer to her ear, then one of his hands snuck under her t-shirt, travelled up away from her waist and past her ribs and then just as she started to bite her lips and take increasingly short breaths he took it back down and held her waist to his while his other hand travelled down, and sent her to sleep a very satisfied woman indeed.

The next morning she woke up with his chin now stubbly against her shoulder, and his hand resting back chastely on her ribs. She put her own, much colder hand over it and marvelled again at the wonderful smoothness of his skin. He stirred, rubbed his face on the back of her neck, and kissed it. At this she turned round, grabbed his sleepy head between her hands and pecked his nose, then his mouth, then announced she was going for a shower. He held her back for a bit, kissing her. She thought this might lead to something more but no, he let her go.

Instead he waited until she came back all pink cheeked and dripping wet from the bathroom, and whipped her towel off.

The rest, thankfully, he took his time over and she was right: it had been worth the wait.

xxx

'Hey, sis.' said Vincent a few hours later, kissing her on both cheeks.

She'd just left Will at the Archway tube with a very happy grin lighting up his morning stubble, and just thinking about him now she was smiling all over again.

'Hey! How's Jane?' she asked after a heroic struggle to bring her mind back to her present company.

'She's OK, actually, she's even come downstairs today in your honour,' he said, leading her to the playroom.

'Well done, Dan, now you let your sister put a piece down,' Jane was saying, splayed over the sofa with her back to the door, to her twins working out a Winnie the Pooh jigsaw puzzle. Dan put another piece down anyway, so Sophie looked from him to her mummy with pleading eyes.

'Good clear leadership, Jane, great feedback, but he needs to work on his listening skills and Sophie here needs to verbalise rather than emote,' she said, walking in, 'I'm just catching Jane up on Talent Management since she missed such an excellent off-site,' she explained to Vincent.

'Elisabeth!' Jane cried, and almost stood up.

'Stay there, stay right where you are, hang on!' Elisabeth said, rushing to her side for a clumsy hug over the bump. 'How are you?'

'Elisabeth! Elisabeth, what have you done!'

'What?' she smiled, and bit her lips.

'Oh, Elisabeth! Look at her, darling, look! She's had ss….' Jane's eyes were flashing away with excitement when they fell on her children, 'S- E- X!' she stage whispered at Vincent over her shoulder, 'She has! You have, you know you have!'

'What's Essie Ex, Mummy?' Sophie asked while her brother stared jealously at the puzzle piece which she'd just dropped back down onto the carpet, but which he knew he wasn't allowed to pick up.

'Essie Ex?'

'It's French for…' Vincent started.

'…cough medicine!' Elisabeth finished, and faked a couple of little coughs. 'Just had it, feel a lot better already!'

'Bet you do, Sis, I bet you do,' said Vincent, grinning.

'Mummy, can I have some Essie Ex? I've got a cough, kuf kuf,' went Dan, and managed to outdo his sister's famed doe eyes.

'No, you don't,' said Jane firmly.

'It's Essie Yuck,' said Elisabeth, 'As in yuck yuck, because it tastes of coffee and wine and … and spinach, and it's only for grownups.'

'Funny, I would have said it tasted of prawns,' Vincent mused, and Elisabeth started to chuckle and had to put a hand in front of her mouth and pretend to cough again, while Jane tried to shoot her husband a threatening look instead of starting to giggle as well.

'But I like prawns, Mummy!' Dan pleaded.

'No, you don't,' said Jane, and tried her best to frown at the two grownup Bennets.

'Daddy, will you give me some Essie Yuk medicine before bed?' Dan tried again, with all the determination of his three years of age.

'Let's go to the kitchen,' said Jane, and started slowly getting up on one elbow. Elisabeth took her hand and hoisted her up, all the while wondering why on earth her brother wasn't doing this.

'Go on, then, out with it! How was it?' said Jane as soon as she was sat down again, catching her breath with her hands under her bump.

'Are you sure I should listen to this?' asked Vincent, wincing. 'Not sure I like the talk of prawns.'

'Up to you, dear,' said Jane, 'butI'm not missing this for the world.'

'Put the kettle on, bro.'

'Who with?' he asked, duly complying.

'With Will of course!' Jane cried.

'Really?' he frowned, 'Elisabeth, are you mad? I thought you hated the guy?'

'I…'

'You've missed a whole load of episodes, darling,' Jane said with an impatient wave, 'Go and … check the football scores or something, I'll catch you up later.'

'With pleasure,' he shrugged, and took off.

'Oh look at you!' said Jane again, to Elisabeth's beaming face. 'So you had a good time? How was the do?'

'Uh, it was strange. Amusing, in places. We kept bumping into all these acquaintances of his, who all seemed to jump to the wrong conclusion.'

'Well, in hindsight you can hardly blame them.'

'Yes, in hindsight. Which is a marvellous thing, as every quant knows. But at the time it was pretty awkward.'

'Did he like the dress?'

'Will? I'm not sure about him but it helped me a lot, channelled my inner classy bird, I suppose. Turns out even I have one, who knew?'

'Will and I did, that's who. And how were TSF?'

'Awful. Actually that's not true, one of them could sing. Anyway so that too was a bit embarrassing oh and, we danced!'

'You danced? In new shoes? Are you mad, did you step on his toes?'

'I didn't. You know, thinking about it, that's just about the only thing that I would have expected to go wrong, but didn't.'

'Why, you didn't take him back to yours, did you?'

'Well…'

'Goodness, Elisabeth, what are you trying to do to the guy! You know you can't expect them to take your side, they're Tom's friends, you don't stand a chance, Will doesn't stand a chance!'

'It's OK, no, we survived. Just about.'

Jane raised one eyebrow.

'Kudos to Will, believe me. Though to be fair to him, Mac was impeccably British about it this morning. Made him a cuppa and talked about the markets and the weather and even pretended to enjoy it: quite a pair of guys, these two.'

Jane frowned, and Elisabeth got up again to fill their mugs. As she stood up she heard a text arrive in the back pocket of her jeans and checked her phone: her name and a question mark. She started grinning all over again as she brought the mugs back to the table.

'Was that him?'

'He's so sweet, Jane!' she moaned.

'Sweet?'

'Oh but he is! You should see him, when he's happy, when he's... He's just delicious and… Jane, tell me, what the hell am I doing?'

'I don't know, Elisabeth. But whatever it is, you certainly look like you enjoyed it. I take it the Essie Ex was good?'

Elisabeth pinched her lips, raised her eyebrows and gave a vigorous nod.

'And he's as besotted as you are?'

'Am I besotted? Already?'

Jane pinched her lips as Elisabeth just had, raised her eyebrows as Elisabeth just had, and then nodded, only more slowly and knowingly than Elisabeth just had.

'You know what, Jane, I actually think he might be even more besotted than I am - believe it or not. And has been for a lot longer. It does spook me a little when he waxes lyrical sometimes, but then I feel all gushy myself… Look, I've no idea what's going on, really, but we're rushing headlong.'

'Don't worry, Elisabeth, it wouldn't be like you not to rush headlong.'

'Really?'

'Of course, really! Just look at me: how many more times are you going to fall in love before you get to this stage?' Jane said with a pat on her bump, 'This may well be the last time, you know, so you may as well go ahead and make the most of it.'

Jane looked on at Elisabeth with her large, infinitely patient eyes, and Elisabeth suddenly realised that the sight of her was far scarier than anything Will had come up with so far. This was not twenty years hence; it wasn't even ten, for god's sake.

'You could go and see him now, if you like,' Jane said, rubbing her belly, 'You don't have to stay for lunch here if you don't want to.'

'I'll stay for lunch and then maybe afterwards…'

'Why don't you go out to the garden and call him back?'

Elisabeth did not, in the end, stay for lunch.