An hour after Wickham departed and I was still fuming. Damn the man! I had taken up for him, hadn't I? And damn my temper, but I couldn't let it go! I marched into what was 'his' office now, stomped really, and watched as he said something into the phone as I entered before hanging up and looking over at me with expectation. I hated that he seemed to expect me to come to him angry. But anger will do that to you, allow you to live up to an expectation you never meant to live up to. I took in a deep breath.

"What the hell was that out there earlier?" I asked him furiously as he pushed himself away from the desk with a resigned sigh.

"Have I given you the impression that by dancing with you last night and by helping you learn the ropes of what it means to be a part of a business's administration, that you can come in here now and question my authority?" Mr. Darcy asked in a low, menacing tone as he circled the desk toward me. I didn't cower. Another good thing about anger. It makes you brave.

"Not your authority, sir. Only your integrity as a human being and as a man." I answered haughtily as he approached me then. I'm not sure if he knew what he was going to do once he reached me, but I knew that he was determined to give me a lesson in intimidation. Out of all of the lessons I'm sure that he was planning on teaching me, I was not about to take pointers on that one. He towered over me. I just shrugged.

"Do you expect me to bow, curtsy maybe? Because honestly the only thing I feel like doing right now is stomping on your toe. And, as you have seen from earlier performances, I am very capable of doing just that." I seethed as he shook his head slowly. Something seemed to click in his head.

"I never meant to hurt your pride, Ms. Bennet." He said softly as I gazed up at him in sudden silence. My pride? Had he hurt my pride? Well damn. I guess he had. And it smarted. He had used my instant dislike against Wickham to teach me a lesson in propriety, and it had stung. Helping me out in the privacy of his aunt's house or in an isolated location was okay but to do so in public made me look inept. I was not inept!

"Didn't you?" I asked in a whisper now, afraid that if I spoke louder that the tears that were threatening the back of my eyes would fall. And I was not allowing Darcy the satisfaction of seeing me weak. I was not weak! He placed his hand on my shoulder, and I cringed before pushing it off. My anger was growing.

"You don't get it, do you?" I asked him while shaking my head in consternation. He just creased his brows together in a fashion similar to the way all men do when they're wondering if it's that time of the month. I was not PMSing. I was just angry and hurt. He started to speak, but I shook my head again.

"You really don't get it. Maybe it is about my pride. You of all people would know that, wouldn't you? You put pride above all else. Do you not realize how you've made me appear to other people? I thought business was about respect. I get that I wasn't born to the right people, that I didn't receive the perfect education, that I never attended a finishing school for women. I even get that I'm young and naïve and that the world is harsh and impolite. But what I don't get is why you feel the need to be the one to show me that, Mr. Darcy. Why you feel the need to throw my ineptness in my face every time that I take a step wrong. Do rich people not trip? Do the elite not make mistakes? You tell me my biggest problem is prejudice. I wonder if you realize, sir, that you are the reason why." I retorted as he stood there silently, his face a vision as it processed his emotions. Maybe I had surprised him. But then again…

"Am I interrupting something?" A female voice asked suddenly from behind me, and I turned quickly to find myself staring at an illusion. It had to be because no one looked like that unless they were on the cover of Vogue and had the help of professional air brush artists. Dear me. Her perfect blonde coiffure and straight-laced business suit made my dusty attire appear wanting. But, then again, she hadn't been digging through files and cobweb covered cabinets. I couldn't even react. But Darcy did.

"Stephanie." He said quickly, almost with a touch of relief as if she had saved him from himself or from me one. I couldn't be sure which. I glanced between the two warily, uncertain if I should leave the office now or wait until he dismissed me. Darcy apparently sensed my discomfort because he turned toward me with a tight smile.

"Ms. Bennet, this is a close friend of mine, Lady Stephanie Edgemont. Stephanie, this is Elizabeth Bennet, my translator here at the company." Darcy introduced as I nodded my head respectfully in her direction. She did the same, but her smile was wary, as if unsure it was appropriate for her to nod at me. I didn't look that bad, did I? I waved my hand toward the door.

"I should get back to work." I remarked plaintively as Darcy nodded and guided Stephanie out of my way by the elbow so that I could pass by. Her presence daunted me although I'm not sure why. It's not as if I had any designs on the detestable Mr. Darcy. He was too….ughhhhhh! I could hear Stephanie as she leaned in close to Darcy, and I tried to close out her voice as I moved. My pride was stinging again.

"You could have contacted me here in Italy, William. I do speak Italian." She said with a slight hint of disdain as I closed my eyes briefly at the statement. I was beginning to wonder why I was here anymore. Did the company really need me that much? I thought about all of the articles I had written over the years in hopes that every time I handed one to my boss back in America that he would be impressed enough to make me a reporter or a media mogul. Anything but the editing position that allowed me only to critique someone else's work. I made a decision right then and there. I would let Mr. Darcy continue to teach me etiquette while we were here in Italy and then I would make him pay attention to my work. I deserved that much from him. I truly did. Lady Stephanie laughed from behind me, and I wondered distantly why it made my heart clench.

Fitzwilliam Darcy…

"I feel almost like an intruder." Lady Stephanie said laughingly as she looked out the door at Elizabeth Bennet's retreating back. Darcy just shrugged as he did the same. Lizzie's comments still stung, only because she was right. He had chastised her for being prejudice, for not allowing herself the opportunity to prove herself by immediately disliking the rich and then he went ahead and took the opportunity out of her hands by doing exactly what she detested most in the elite--by giving her lessons in front of those she was trying to impress. He was one hell of a man! But maybe it was best she learn how cruel the world was now. He was not her friend, he sure as hell was not her lover, and he was not, by all means, a relation to her. Therefore, it was his job to maintain a distance between the two.

"I didn't interrupt anything, did I?" Stephanie asked plaintively as Darcy realized belatedly that she had been talking and he hadn't been listening. He shook the cobwebs out of his head as he grabbed his jacket and headed toward the door before holding his hand out to her. He smiled.

"No, you didn't interrupt anything. It was just business. Now, let's go to that café we were talking about earlier on the phone." He commented suavely as Stephanie smiled winsomely before placing her hand in his. The jolt of electricity that her touch used to create never came as he wrapped his fingers around hers, but he didn't have time to study that effect at the moment. It didn't matter really. Marriages worked best when there was no emotion between the man and his wife anyhow. His parents had seemed to be the perfect couple and their marriage had practically been arranged. And, there was quite the age difference between himself and Ms. Bennet. Quite the age difference. Now, why had that thought entered his head? He looked down at Stephanie as his father's words rang through his head.

"Choosing a wife should be done similar to the way you make a business decision. Getting married, after all, is nothing but a business transaction. If done well, you profit. If done poorly, you could lose everything." His father had once said and Darcy tried embracing that statement even now. One glance over his shoulder at the enigmatic Ms. Bennet, and he felt a stirring that he ignored quickly. She was an employee that he hadn't even known long, she was just four years out of her teens, and she was a ball of emotions ready to ignite. She was also making him re-think himself. Stephanie was quiet from beside him only a moment. She had always diliked being ignored.

"It's been a long time, Darcy. You and I always seemed to work well together. I have been anticipating your call." She said sweetly as Darcy smiled while holding open the building door for her.

"We have a lot to make up for." He said in a low tone as he let the door close on the scene inside the building, on the face of Elizabeth Bennet as she climbed on top of a box to help fix the branch of the business Wickham had tried to destroy. He couldn't get the image of her stomping on Wickham's toe out of his head. He smiled down at Stephanie.

"You still enjoy the arts, do you not?" Darcy asked as she nodded politely. He shrugged.

"I have tickets to an exclusive art exhibit in town. I was planning on taking the guests residing presently at my aunt's estate, but I would also like it if you would attend with me as well." Darcy commented as she smiled up at him eagerly.

"I would love to!" She exclaimed as he grinned at her.

"Tomorrow night then? And, of course, you must join us all for dinner tonight. We'll be dining at the Camponeschi." Darcy remarked as Stephanie nodded again. It was an exclusive establishment that he had managed to get reservations for.

"I've missed us." Stephanie said suddenly as they walked down the avenue toward an awaiting car. She sighed as she took his arm suddenly, and he closed his eyes briefly. They had always made a good pair. But now, he couldn't help but wonder if she had missed his company or his money. And it was all Elizabeth Bennet's fault!