Chapter Two

"Angry people are not always wise."

.

The next morning, I accidentally slept in. I should make it clear that I did not mean to sleep in. Mum had asked me to get up nice and early (ew - this is supposed to be a holiday), so that I could help her with getting everything ready for that evening. I groaned and swung my legs out of bed, threw on an old tshirt and a pair of cutoff denim shorts.

"And where have you been?" Mum shrieked at me, when I surfaced into the kitchen. I could tell that she was stressed because firstly, she was shrieking and secondly, her hair looked like she had been dragged through a hedge backwards. She was currently wrestling with a chicken, trying to get it to fit into the oven.

"Didn't hear my alarm," I grunted. I wasn't a fan of waking up early when I didn't have to. Or when I had to, meaning that the kids had to be on good behaviour until about 10 a.m. I walked over to where Mum was crouching by the cooker, took the tray from her and slotted it into the oven. She patted my head like I was a baby again.

"Do me a favour, darling, and go and help your father set up the tables in the marquis?"

I was about to protest, but after looking out the kitchen window to the garden, I took pity on Dad, who was trying to carry about a trillion plates and cutlery sets. I slid on my canvas flip flops and went out into the garden.

"You alright Dad?" I asked, picking up a stack of plates and cutlery and copying how he was laying them out onto the table.

"Yes, thanks love. I don't know how your mother tricked me into doing this."

"How did she persuade you into this? I don't think you ever told me."

"I can't quite remember how, but it must have had something to do with golf. It must have been golf, otherwise I wouldn't have caved. You know how much I hate parties."

There was nothing Dad loved more than golf and detested more than social occasions. Although he was incredibly charming when he was talking to people, I could always notice him tapping his foot on the floor or drumming his fingers on the nearest surface in annoyance. I guess I must take after than my Dad more than my Mum.

Dad and I stayed outside in the garden for ages, trying to make it look exactly as Mum wanted it to. Needless to say (she is a bit of a control freak), she felt the need to come out and 'direct' us a good few times, but by four o'clock, an hour before the guests were due to arrive, we were finished. Mum poked her head out of the garden window. She was in a dressing gown and her hair was up in curlers. "Are you two still out here? What on Earth has taken you so long? You won't be ready in time!"

"Well, there's gratitude for you," Dad muttered, but I saw him give mum a peck on the cheek as he went past into the house. I sighed. Why couldn't I find someone to love unconditionally, even when I found them annoying?

.

"Lizzie, you can't wear denim shorts to Mum's evening party. She'll disown you." Jane was looking at my outfit disapprovingly.

I sighed. "I know she won't be...approving...but this is all I have with me."

Jane smacked a hand to her head. "I can't believe you left you dress at home after all the trouble we had getting it in the first place!"

I looked down at the floor guiltily. I had dragged Jane out shopping with me for about six hours last weekend to find a dress that 1) didn't show all the flesh that I owned and 2) didn't cost about a month's wages. We had finally found one, just as the shops were closing and, when we got home, to keep it clean and neat, I had hung it up on the back of my door...and forgotten to put it into the car when we left.

"I can probably lend you something," said Jane, head on one side, as if thinking. This slightly filled me with terror. Jane's style was all flowy and flowery and not my style at all. Although she calls my style simple, I call it classy.

"Are you sure I can even fit in your clothes?" I asked skeptically. Jane was slim and petite, especially in the chest area, whereas I was more...shapely, shall we say.

"Yes, Lizzie. We've been through this before. You're not that much bigger than me. Here, try this."

The first dress that she threw at me was sequinned and bodycon. I didn't even bother trying it on. The second was slightly better; a pale pink, t-shirt sleeves, white collar skater dress, but I wasn't entirely happy about the way it sat on me - too tight around the bust for my liking. The third, therefore, was my only choice, which was lucky because I actually quite liked it. It was black, long, and not too tight. The neckline wasn't low enough to expose myself to everyone (fortunate - Colin was going to be there after all). I added a long gold necklace and sandals (see, I do have some fashion sense!), which completed the look. Even my hair was vaguely cooperating, thanks to my dear friend, Hairspray.

When I emerged from the dressing room, also known as the en suite, Jane raised an eyebrow. "Well, Lizzie, I have to say - it almost looks as though you made an effort?"

"Gee thanks sis," I said, bumping her shoulder playfully. "You don't look half bad yourself."

It was annoyingly true. Jane, as usual, looked like an angel. She was wearing a knee length dress, with a gold, sparkling bodice and a gauzy white skirt. Effortlessly beautiful people should just be locked up.

"Come on, let's go downstairs," Jane said, looking at the clock on the wall.

"Why?" I asked, with a sly grin. "Are you waiting for someone special?" I knew she was thinking about a certain Charlie Bingley.

"Be quiet, Lizzie," Jane said, cheeks flushed pink. She swept past me out of the door, almost gliding down the stairs.

I psyched myself up a bit before going downstairs, where some guests were already starting to arrive. I smiled and greeted some of them, until I got bored of pretending to remember people I hadn't seen since I was six.

Out in the garden, I grabbed a bottle of beer from the bar, and opened the top with a wonderfully unladylike gesture (with my teeth), just how my daddy taught me. I sat down on one of the garden benches, observing a part of the garden which wasn't so crowded. At events like these, I prefer watching people than interacting with them. This makes me sound like some sort of social leper, which I promise you I'm not. I just have no interest in talking to most of these people, who are scarily very like my mother. My peaceful people watching was disturbed by Jane's voice.

"Lizzie? What are you doing just sitting there? Look who it is!" I didn't even have to turn around to know who she was talking about.

"Hi, there," I said to Bingley, smiling in what I hoped was a charming way and deciding to ignore Will Darcy. "It's great that you could make it at such short notice!"

"Oh, no trouble," Bingley said. "No trouble at all. Isn't that right, Will?"

Darcy nodded stiffly, but didn't say anything. I had to reluctantly admit that he did look good in his slim fit suit and tight white shirt, with a few tactfully undone buttons...but even his looks couldn't make up for his bad manners and lack of charm.

"Well, anyway," Jane said, brushing over the awkward silence. "Charlie was just telling me about his plans for Netherfield. He's planning to make it into a spa. Won't that be lovely?"

"Sounds wonderful! Just think Jane, whenever we're bored here, or we want to escape Marie's piano playing, we could just pop up the road for a massage. When does the building start?"

"Not for a while yet," Bingley said. "But I'm hoping we'll be well underway by Christmas." His eyes lit up endearingly when he was talking about his project, which he was obviously so passionate about.

After a bit more chit chat between Jane, Charlie and I (Darcy just sort of lurked around in the background), I excused myself to get a drink. Lord knows I would need one. One of the 'barmen' Mum had hired to man the bar tent handed me a glass of champagne. I went to smile a thanks at him and my jaw almost dropped open. He was...well, he was bloody gorgeous. Sort of rough and rugged, a bit like a cowboy without the hat and the accent, I was guessing. He was even wearing a plaid shirt.

"Hi," he said slowly, with a grin. He knew I had been drooling over him.

"Oh...sorry...hi," I said, after a few moment's silence. Great, he must already think I'm a dork.

"I'm George Wickham. I see you're enjoying yourself," he grinned, pointing at the glass of champagne, which had been drained about five seconds after I'd bought it. There was a definite tinge of sarcasm lacing his baritone voice that my saliva collect at the corners of my mouth.

"It's not really my thing," I admitted. "I'm Lizzie, the birthday 'girl's' daughter."

He shook my outstretched hand. "Nice to meet you." He looked at me conspiratorially. "You want something stronger than champagne?"

"My mother's ordered drinks stronger than champagne?" I asked, incredulously.

"Well...not ordered them as such, but I've got a bottle of water underneath the table if you want some?"

"Do I ever!" I said, the most enthusiastic I had been all evening. "Drink is the only thing that can get me through this evening."

"The only thing?" George asked, with a wink. I chuckled at his blatant teasing and flirting. He bent down under the table and then surreptitiously handed me a tumblr, with a shot of vodka at the bottom. I raised the glass to my lips and downed the stinging liquid quickly. I let out a breath and put the plastic cup back on the white cloth covered counter.

"Impressive," George said. "You must resort to this often."

I laughed. "It's quite sad that I do. But I don't always get a hot bartender for company." I think I choked on my own spit when I realised what I had said. Lord, the drink was getting to me quicker and quicker the older I got.

George didn't comment on my blunder, but I saw him smile at his shoes. Now he must know I'm a dork. I was about to try and move on from my slip-of-the-tongue and ask for another shot of my favourite drink, when I saw Colin. I groaned and threw my head back.

"You okay?" George asked me, one eyebrow raised.

I shook my head. "There's someone who I'd rather not see or talk to right now, so I'm gonna have to leave." I jerked my thumb in the direction of Colin, who thankfully hadn't yet seen me.

George's eyes followed my gesture. He nodded knowingly. "I see...an ex-boyfriend. You'd be surprised how many we get. Go on - I won't tell him where you're hiding."

"No," I hissed indignantly. "No! He is most definitely not my ex-boyfriend, nor will he ever be. I like to think I have some standards."

George smiled. "I was wondering why a beautiful woman like you was doing with a greaseball like him…"

I blinked, eyes wide. My eyes flickered over to Colin, who had seen me. "I - I'm sorry, I've got to go. He's seen me!"

I ran behind the drinks tent and into my secret part of the garden. The entrance to the secluded spot was half hidden by ivy, an old brick archway that you could only see if you knew where it was. It was my secret safe place that I used to go to all the time to escape my mother's nagging, to escape my chores, to escape my homework...which is why I was so surprised when, after sitting on my hammock that was hung between two yew trees, I saw a man sitting on the bench opposite the little pond, about twenty metres away. I was beginning to recognise that dark, slightly curly haired head, atop of wide shoulders and a sculpted back...Will Darcy. Fate hates me.

I stood up sharply. "What are you doing here?" I asked, none too kindly.

Darcy turned around. He'd obviously not heard me approach him, because he sort of did a jumpy thing. When he saw it was me, though, his face went from surprised (and a teeny, tiny bit cute) to completely shut off. "There's no reason why I shouldn't be here. I'm not doing anything."

"I'm the reason you shouldn't be here," I growled. This was my space, my haven and Darcy was an unwelcome intruder.

"Correction - you're the reason I don't want to be here," Darcy snarled. "Do you have any idea how annoying you are?"

My mouth dropped open. "I'm sure plenty of people have told you how rude you are!"

Darcy shrugged. "It's come up in conversation once or twice."

I snorted. Once or twice? This man was getting to be a right royal pain in my ass. "Please would you get the heck out of my personal space."

He ignored my request and asked me a question. "Why are you hiding here anyway. They're your family - shouldn't you be back there?"

My eyes narrowed. I didn't want him to know that I was uncomfortable. "There are people that I don't want to see. One of them includes you. Please leave." I knew I sounded like a spoilt teenager, but I wasn't really that bothered. I'm not normally a rude person. Sarcastic? Yes. Petty? Yes. Grumpy? Hell yes. But not rude. There are just some people in this world that completely rub me up the wrong way. Including Colin and Darcy. And also Robin Thicke, but I won't get into that now.

Darcy shot me a cocky, amused grin. I could tell that he was taking cruel amounts of pleasure from knowing that he was ruffling my feathers. Figuratively, obviously. "It seems like we have more in common than I first though. But since you asked so nicely." He stood up, brushing the seat of his trousers for any debris. My eyes absentmindedly followed his hands to his bottom, but I quickly looked away when I realised what I was doing. I mentally scolded myself.

I sat back down on my hammock, looking up at the sky, not watching him leave. I heard his footsteps, soft and heavy across the grass, but turning into harsh clicks when he reached the paving. I lay rocking on the hammock for a while until I fell asleep.

.

I can't have been asleep for that long because when I woke, it was only just beginning to dusky. I sat up and stretched, then sighed because I knew that I had better go back to the party. There was music playing now, though not good music, may I add. I hate seventies music with a passion, but it's mum's favourite era. In her words, it was 'when she was at her peak'. Ew. Right now was something by Lionel Richie. Seriously the phrase dancing on the ceiling really bugs me.

Back in the main garden, you could tell that the drinks were beginning to flow a little easier.

"Where have you been hiding?" My dad's voice came from behind my ear, making me jump. "You've left me alone to deal with Auntie Joy for half an hour."

Joy was one of the most full on people I've ever met. She talked non stop (literally), and only surfaced to come up for air to have a drink. Which usually only made the talking part a whole lot worse.

"Sorry Dad," I said, only feeling a tiny bit guilty. "I've been hiding from Colin."

"I suppose I forgive you then," Dad said, chuckling.

"Richard!" Came my Mother's voice, calling Dad. "You remember Andy and Sharon, don't you? Come and say hello." She was smiling widely and standing next to a couple.

"But I don't remember Andy and Sharon," Dad muttered, shuffling over to them. I smiled to myself.

Then I felt a tap on my shoulder. "There you are!" Said an all too familiar voice. Oh god no. I'd managed to avoid this all night.

"Hi Colin," I said, not even pretending to be enthusiastic. "What do you want?"

"Just a chat! It's been a while, hasn't it?"

"Not long enough."

Colin laughed his nasal laugh. "You've always been a tease. How have you been?"

"Alright." I didn't want to talk to him and I wasn't going to pretend. If he was being led on from this little to non existent amount of effort from me, then imagine what he would have been like if I had actually played along.

"Not very talkative tonight, are you Lizzie?"

Ugh. "Do you know what, Colin? I am talkative. I just don't want to talk to you. How have you not grasped this yet?"

He blinked for a moment in silence and I wondered, nay hoped that I might have finally gotten through to him. But then he laughed again, and said, "You are so funny when you try to be angry."

For a moment, I wondered if this situation was a complete joke. I wanted a relationship, I really did but when the only choice was this buffoon, anyone would rather be an old maid. I tried to walk away from him, so as not to lose my temper completely. Mum would explode if I caused a scene at her party. But Colin's arm wound around my waist, keeping me from going anywhere. I wiggled about a bit. "Get off me Colin," I growled.

"It's okay if you're attracted to me," he said. "There's no need to be shy. Lots of women are." I think I felt a tiny bit of sick come into my mouth. "If you just open up to me, you'll see that I'm not as intimidating as you think."

I was honestly about to scream at him, when cool, strong hands pulled me and Colin apart. "I think the lady has told you to leave her alone."

It was George, the bartender from earlier. I sighed with relief - a sane person to help me! Colin was flustering behind me, blabbering on about something I didn't care about. All I could focus on was George Wickham, my new knight in shining armour. It was quite dark now, the fairy lights strung up around the trees giving George an ethereal glow. I should have become a poet, not a teacher. Colin wandered off, to harass some other poor defenseless person.

I turned to George. "Thank you so much!" I knew I was gushing like a teenage girl. "Honestly, I think I was about to have a fit!"

"I could tell," George said, with a smile. "That's why I came over. Sorry I didn't help you out sooner."

I shook my head. "Don't be sorry! I'm so grateful - I thought I was going to be stuck with him for the whole evening." I shuddered at the thought.

I think George must have taken the shudder for a shiver because he rubbed his large hands up and down the tops of my arms. I didn't correct him though, because it had felt so nice. Too nice.

"Why don't you come back to the drinks tent with me? That way the douche won't come back again."

I tried not to sound too eager, but perhaps my "Sure!" came over a little keen.

.

I sat down behind the table on a pile of plastic crates. The other bartender, whose name I learned was Denny, smiled at me when I sat down. I had seen Lydia and Kat making eyes at him earlier in the evening and he seemed nice enough.

"Want a drink?" He asked.

"Throw us a Stella," I said, and did my party trick of opening it with my teeth.

"There's a reason why we have bottle openers," said George, a laugh in his voice.

I shrugged. "Takes too long." I glugged down some of the amber liquid and sat back and watched the two men serving out drinks. My eyes kept straying towards George's back and bum and I must have been staring too long because I was startled out of my daydreams by George saying, "Like what you see?" He was grinning teasingly at me.

I flushed a deep beetroot red. Being caught checking someone out was insanely embarrassing. "Sorry," I stuttered. "I wasn't...I mean, you know - I just...I was thinking, I didn't mean to…"

George laughed. "I'm not complaining. It actually makes me feel a little better about staring at you all evening too." I bit my lip to stop myself grinning like the Cheshire Cat - was it possible that I was flirting with a good looking guy, who wasn't a complete idiot?

The party was beginning to wind down a bit, some guests were beginning to leave and the garden was gradually emptying. After another fifteen minutes, the garden was practically empty. Marie and Kat were sent around with a bin bag, picking up discarded cups and paper napkins. Denny and George began to pack all the unopened drinks into cooler boxes.

"Can I do anything to help?" I asked, feeling a little bit like Lady Muck, just sitting there and watching them work.

Denny pointed out the boxes and their corresponding beverages. I was bending over to put some lemonade cans in their boxes, when I felt a light pinch on my butt. I spun around to see who could have done it and I was met with George's back, his shoulders rising and falling in a chuckle.

"We just need to take all the boxes back to the van, then," said Denny, when everything had been cleared away.

"I'll come," I said, pathetically not yet wanting to say goodbye to George.

In a fabulous show of strength from Denny and George, they lifted up three boxes each and began to take them round to the back exit of the driveway. I followed slowly behind them, practically dragging one box. Denny went back to the tent to get the last of the boxes, leaving George to load up the van. When he'd finished loading, and was waiting for Denny to finish up in the garden, he leant against the side of the van and looked at me.

"So...it was nice meeting you," he said. There was a pause. "Can I get your number?"

"Yes!" I squeaked, then coughed. "I mean, yeah, sure."

George pulled out an iPhone from his back pocket. I reeled off my number and fiddle around a bit, saving it. I was grateful that I was actually able to make my brain function at that point.

"Do you, er, live in London?" I asked, slightly shyly.

"Yeah, right in the centre. What about you?"

"Me too. Maybe we could meet up for drinks one day? If you're not sick of drinks by then," I said, finding myself more nervous about what the reply would be than I had anticipated.

"I like the sound of that. Can I text you the details?" My heart sank. I doubted he was interested if all he could was 'I'll text you'. But oh well, points for me trying, right?

Denny appeared and said, "Well, that's us done. It was nice to meet you Lizzie, thanks for your help." He shook my hand and climbed into the driver's seat.

That just left me and George again. "Well...bye then," I said, dismally.

"Is that all I get?" He asked, with mock indignation. "Just a goodbye? No kiss?"

I swallowed, my mouth dry. My kissing experiences were few and far between at most, so I didn't quite know the etiquette for moments like this. I decided for the safe option of a quick peck on the cheek. I leaned into the side of his face, but at the last moment, he turned his head, making my lips collide with his.

"Right, well," I said, flustered and not thinking straight.

"So, I'll text you then?" He said. I nodded and smiled, still not quite able to form words yet. I waved as he climbed into the van, which pulled away seconds later, gravel crunching under the tyres.

I turned to go back into the house, fanning myself with hand.