Author's Note: To avoid any confusion, I'm just going to clarify that Becky is known to her family and friends as Becks, and I'm using Becky whenever I use her name when telling the story. Darcy refers to her as Becca (used in his thoughts and his point of view) and the company and Media know her as Miss R. Liz Bennet, shortly known as Liz or Miss Bennet. The reason for the R at the start is so that she would not completely lying about her identity, as that would not be ethically correct. I hope I haven't confused you more :/

Chapter 5

"How was your meeting, Miss Bennet?" asked Jane as she met Becky stepping out of the conference room. They had decided between them that Jane would address her sister formally while they were at work in order to prevent any speculation from occurring regarding their relationship and bring to attention to Becky's using an alias.
Becky sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly. "About as well as it could go," she said shortly. "I'll tell you more when we're out of here."
Jane nodded slightly in sympathy and remained silent.

"Oh, Jane! It was… awful! There were fourteen board members altogether, not including me, and they were all so old. I swear, as soon as I walked into the room, everyone went silent and suddenly, there were fourteen pairs of very male, very old, very severe, very judgemental eyes on me. It was like walking into a room with a pack of wolves sitting there, waiting for their midday meal – me! You could see that they were just waiting for me to screw up so they could find an excuse to chuck me out. You couldn't read their thoughts clearer than if they jumped around waving a massive red sign reading "You don't belong here, we don't want you here, we're so much better than you!" They were so very intimidating, and you could see that they weren't impressed when a very young, very female new chairman – I should say woman – walk in." Becky started her tirade as soon as they were in the car – a very sleek, very shiny black Bentley. She had to admit, although she wasn't usually very interested in flashy, expensive cars, this car had style.

"I'm sure they weren't waiting for you to make a mistake! They were probably just curious as to who the new chair was. You are going to be the one in charge from now on, and the identity of the head of Wilson and Co has not been made public yet. Oh, that reminds me, we need to call a press conference confirming your role as the new Chairwoman of Wilson and Co. It will be your first public appearance since dad's funeral for you, and the first public appearance of 'Liz Bennet' so you have to get it right. We could book the Hilton conference room for you, if you don't want to hold it here."

Oh Jane, if only you had seen them with your own eyes… she held her breath and counted to ten as she stifled the urge to scream and cry and roll her eyes at Jane all at once. Jane was too nice for her own good. Becky couldn't wait for the day to be over already, and it was only twelve thirty! If her afternoon meetings first with the heads of departments and then her business partners were going to pan out like the one she just walked out of, she was going to find the nearest lake and jump. Then she could go to heaven and give her father a piece of her mind for hiring these old cronies in the first place. Letting her breath out again – she was starting to get dizzy from the lack of oxygen – she asked Jane why exactly she – Becky, that is – was tagging along on Jane's lunch date with her soon-to-be boyfriend.

"Rebecca! He is not my soon-to-be boyfriend! We are just friends. And he probably doesn't see me that way anyway. And it's not a date! We are only going to grab some lunch together and get to know each other."
"Whether you admit it or not, it is a date, and I for one don't want to sit there and act as the third wheel."
"Actually, he's bringing his friend, and if you insist on calling this a date, then it'll be a double date. You are to be paired up with his friend." Jane shot back, smirking slightly.

Hearing this, Becky shot up about a foot from her slouching position in the corner of her seat, leaning against the door. She turned to her sister – she took back what she said about Jane being angelic, no, evil Cruella De Vil was much more suitable – and glared. Any lesser person would have wilted into a pile of burnt dust under her gaze, but Jane just looked right back and smirked some more. She knew that Becky hated nothing more than blind dates. Oh, the horror!
"Just what, are you trying to do, dear sister of mine?" she asked sarcastically.
"Nothing!" Jane dropped her smirk and replaced it with one of wide eyed innocence. "I'm just trying to make a point."
Nothing was to be heard from the Becky's corner as she conceded defeat. For now.

Meanwhile, the car had come to a stop outside the entrance of the Phoenix Hotel. The girls, each lost in their thoughts, had not noticed this fact. When their driver, Mr McLean, quickly pulled open the door expecting to hand his passengers out, he was instead greeted with a high pitched shriek and a blurry mass of flailing limbs. Becky, who had been slouching against the door was quite oblivious to all that was around her until her backrest disappeared. Wha-? Her mind took a moment to unscatter itself from where it had drifted. Oh. Oh – shit. She tried desperately to latch onto something and anything before she could be treated to an up close and personal experience with the ground. But it was all in vain, and she greeted the looming pavement with a shriek. Any hope of grace and elegance went out the door. Literally.

"Oh my goodness, Miss! I am so terribly sorry! I had no idea that you were leaning against the door. I couldn't see anything through these tinted windows. It won't happen again, I swear!" Mr McLean said, horrified at what he had done, yet a little traitorous part of his brain had an urge to laugh at the spectacle. That, however, would leave him penniless and without employment. So he diligently supressed said urge until it was nothing but a tickling thought at the back of his mind. Jane, however, had no such scruples, and after giving her sprawled sister a concerned over, where she confirmed that no lasting harm had been done to anything but her ego, she further attacked said ego by giving a small snort, followed by giggles, until it transformed into convulsions of laughter.

Becky quickly got up as gracefully as possible – not very, considering she had been lying on the floor – and dusted herself off. Her face flushed an unhealthy shade of red. When she became aware of Mr McLean's horrified expression and repeated "sorrys", she held up a hand and waved off his apologies. She surreptitiously looked up and down the street to see if anyone had witnessed her little accident other than her sister. No one was staring at her, so she took that as a good sign. Her mind quickly went over each of her body parts, checking that all her parts were working properly. Nothing broken. Nothing missing. Her head was still screwed on right. She may miss a few brain cells, but she'll live. That done, she could finally look back and see the humorous side of her spill. She pictured how she must have looked and couldn't help but laugh at herself.

Still giggling occasionally, the two sisters walked arm in arm through the lobby until they were greeted by the maître d'hôtel as they entered the restaurant door.
"We are meeting a Charles Bingley here?" Jane stated hesitantly. "I think he has a reservation under his name."
"Oh, yes. He's already here. Follow me."
The maître d'hôtel turned and led them to a table tucked in a quiet corner at the back of the restaurant. Charles, who had seated himself so that he had the best view of the door, had seen them and stood up as he greeted them, kissing Jane on the cheek and shaking Becky's hand. There was another person seated at the table with his back towards the sisters so they couldn't recognise him at first. From what she could see of the make and cut of his suit, Becky guessed that he was quite well off and was rather fit. She wondered briefly if his front side looked as good as his back side promised.

The man in question pushed his chair back, stood up, and turned around.
Becky's jaw dropped. It was –

"You!"

"You!"

Both Darcy and Becky yelled out at the same time, attracting the notice of several diners. The former turned red with embarrassment while the latter flushed with anger. While Darcy was fervently hoping that the ground would open up and swallow him whole, Becky was busy frothing at her mouth as she imagined the thousands of violent acts she could commit to the man who had insulted her. However, they were not to be as she would be arrested. Unfortunately. She briefly wondered at her violent reaction to his presence. He only insulted her. Plenty of people had insulted her before, often to her face, so why was she so riled up with this one? So she did the next best thing.

She turned around and stormed out of the restaurant, leaving behind a bemused audience.

She was found pacing around in her office on the top floor of the Wilson and Co. by her sister an hour later. The door was closed and the blinds were drawn, so no one could see or hear her venting out her frustration. Of all people! Of all the people in the world for Charles to bring to lunch, he picks him!

"Becks?" Jane said, gently closing the door after her.

She got a grunt in response. Becky then went back to hurling obscenities at anything and everything, especially at that man. She cursed him through to hell and back, swearing that she would kick his ass the next time that she saw him.

"Rebecca Elizabeth Bennet Wilson!" Jane shouted. Becky's pacing screeched to a halt. Her head snapped up and she blinked, as if seeing Jane for the first time. Maybe that grunt hadn't been in response to her greeting after all? "Becks, you have to calm down!"

Calm down?! Calm down?! How on Earth could Jane ask her to calm down? Pfft, she would do better to ask a charging rhino to calm down. In other words, it wasn't going to happen. Not when that man just ruined her already shoddy day. No way. That man had rubbed salt into her wounds, added insult to injury, when he yelled at her that fateful night, sealing his fate as the first and only person on her hit list.

ooOoo

She returned with some paper towels. She may have wanted revenge, and she had got it. But she had found some kindness in her heart – or was it her oversized conscience? – so she went to get some towels for Darcy to wipe some of the moisture off. There was nothing to do about the red short of pouring a bucket of bleach over the top of him. But something told her that he might not appreciate that any more than he appreciated her attempt to add some colour to his appearance.

"Here." She said shortly and waved a wad of towels in front of his face.

He raised an eyebrow, not making the least effort to take them.

"Look, I'm sorry. It was an accident. I'll pay for your dry cleaning. Ok?"

Darcy scoffed at her offer. "You drench me with whatever the hell this is, and you say you're sorry?" he exclaimed incredulously, his voice slowly rising in volume. "Do you know how expensive this suit was? Not to mention the inconvenience you've caused me by your drunken clumsiness! Honestly woman, don't you ever look at the ground when you walk?"

"It wouldn't have mattered, because I would not have been able to see you, then I would have bumped into you and spilt my drink on you anyway," she smirked. "Genius."

"Well – " Darcy was stumped. She was right. Either way, he would have ended up wet. Damn. Darcy didn't like being proven wrong. He liked being rendered speechless even worse. Especially by someone who had probably grown up in the slums by the looks of it. Unwittingly, he had muttered the last part of his thoughts out loud. Not a good idea.

Becky's colour slowly rose from her anger. Who did he think he was, judging everyone he saw? Slums? What kind of eyes did he have? Just because she didn't act like the arrogant prick that he was, didn't mean that she was uneducated and lower than him. So she didn't stick her nose in the air at everyone as if they were somehow not good enough for her. It makes her a better person. Unlike somebody she could point out. It wasn't like it was the seventeenth century.

"What? Too plebeian and uneducated for you talk to, is that it? My money too stained with working class? Or do you think that we plebeian people will give you a disease? You know what? Whatever. You do what you want. I don't even know why I bothered. Have a good life." She turned to go. "Bastard."

"And you're just going to leave? What about this?" he asked, making her stop. He gestured to himself.

"What do you want me to do? I already gave you some towels, attempted to offer to pay the dry cleaning bill, which, I might add, you refused. I said I was sorry. It was an accident. Do you want me to get down on my knees or something?!"

He raised an imperious eyebrow.

"A nice, sincere apology would be nice."

"You already got one. But if it's not good enough for you, then you can go and f– "

"Look, lady, there's no need to be so rude when this was clearly your fault."

"Rude?! Me?!" she snorted derisively. "You should really take a good long look in the mirror one day."

She shot back at him and turned around.

"Wait. I order you to stop!" he yelled, exasperated by her attitude.

"Oh yeah? And who are you to tell me what to do?"

"I'm Darcy of –"

"Well, Darcy" she sneered as she spat out his name. "Kiss. My. Ass."

ooOoo

Further fuming was rendered impossible when Becky's junior assistant, Miss Linda Jones, knocked and opened the door and announced,

"The President of Pemberley Hotels to see you, Ma'am."

At Becky's nod, she opened the door and he walked in.

What the f…?

A/N: So, what do you think?