I've had a request for a glossary, but since I'm pulling almost all of the slang from the same source it doesn't make sense to reproduce it. So there's a link in my profile to the glossary I'm using so you can use it too.


Bingley was delighted. Jane was probably the prettiest girl he'd ever seen. No, make that definitely the prettiest girl he'd ever seen. She didn't wear heavy makeup and the latest, shortest fashions like his sister did, but there was real beauty in her face that her light powder and lipstick only accentuated. And Jane was a wonderful dancer. Bingley had fancied up the dance with every move he knew, and she had followed him through it like they'd been dancing together for years.

"Charles? Is everything all right?" Jane looked up at him, her brow furrowed. She shouldn't be worried, especially not on his account.

"Everything's wonderful," he reassured her. "I was just thinking."

She smiled at him. "Oh, I'm so glad. I was worried you were tired of dancing. I'm afraid I can be a real 'floorflusher' sometimes."

He smiled back at her. "No, I love to dance too. Maybe I could take you to a club I go to in New York sometime. The music there is really something. I think you'd love it."

"It sounds wonderful. Do you go to New York often?"

"Sometimes. We have a house there, but it's awfully noisy sometimes. That's why I wanted a house out here, too. It's a few hours' drive."

"Do you have your own car as well?"

"I do - a Studebaker Big Six. I'd love to drive you up in it."

"That sounds divine. Lydia and Lizzie have learned to drive, but I'm afraid I haven't yet."

"I'll have to teach you then! Perhaps I could come by tomorrow and we could take a short drive?"


Lydia stubbed out her cigarette and leaned back in the front seat of the parked car, enjoying the crisp autumn air on her face.

"This is just the cat's meee-ow, Denny," she said, stretching out the word into a kind of purr.

He grinned at her. "Ain't every day I find a doll like you to bring out here. You want another snort?" he offered, holding out the bottle of bootleg gin he'd pilfered from behind the bar on the way out.

"Sure thing." She took the bottle and drank, trying not to wince from the harsh taste. She usually drank highballs, which were sweeter and lighter. But highballs were old news. She took another drink and coughed a little.

"Hey baby, you okay?" he asked.

"Everything's copacetic," she replied, leaning towards him.

Denny drew her face towards him and kissed her. "Copacetic it is," he said, smiling. He kissed her again.

She pulled back from the kiss, her eyes sparkling. She took one more swig of gin, and put the bottle on the floor at her feet. Then she began peeling off her silk stockings.

Denny watched appreciatively. "Wow, baby, I knew you were a live wire," he laughed.

She rolled up the stockings and put them neatly in her purse. Stockings weren't cheap, and if she tore these Lizzie would scold.

"Live as anything," she said, and climbed into Denny's lap.


Darcy turned and looked back at the dance floor. He'd thought he'd seen him, but when he got closer he saw the man was a stranger after all. He had to be here. Somewhere.

Charles was dancing with Jane Bennet. She really was quite a doll, and an excellent dancer, though not as flashy as some.

Darcy glanced at a table near the bar, where Lizzie and Charlotte were lounging with their drinks and laughing together. She wasn't actually that unattractive. Was it worth it to go back and apologize? Probably not. He didn't care what she thought. He just wanted to be done with this business.

Caroline came up from behind him, hooked her arm through his, and started to pull him forward. "Come on, daddy, you have got to take me out there," she said.

He rolled his eyes, but let her pull him forward and drape herself over him. He began to dance, still scanning the room.

She watched him intently. "They've got some real strike-me-dead here," she said after a minute.

Darcy just grunted.

"My brother is still dancing with that skirt he found," she tried a minute later. "He's such a sap."

"True."

She rolled her eyes. The song came to an end, and she threw her hands down and walked off, towards the bar. Darcy moved to the wall to keep watching the room.


Kitty was the first to see Lydia re-enter the room. She waved enthusiastically.

"Lyddie! He is such a sheik! Did you get some nookie? Your stockings are twisted, do you need me to help you straighten them? You have to tell me everything!" she squealed.

"Pipe down, Kitty," Lydia snapped. She it took her a minute to sit down, because the room seemed to be tilting oddly. She put her head in her hands.

"Looks like you need a hair of the dog. I always say there's nothing that picks you up like a little more knock-me-dead," Kitty giggled over her witticism. She gestured wildly in the bartender's direction, and he nodded. A waiter brought over two more drinks.

Lydia took a cautious sip of hers. At least it was a cocktail, and not straight gin. She'd be fine soon.

She felt a hand on her shoulder. "Lydia, how much have you had?" demanded Lizzie's voice.

She rolled her head to the side and saw her sister looking down at her. "None of your beeswax, Lizzie!"

"It looks to me like you've had more than enough. Now lay off, or you're going to upchuck pretty soon."

"She's perfectly copacetic!" Kitty said indignantly. "She's having a great night, and you don't need to bother her with your manners piffle. Stop being such a killjoy!"

"Leave me alone, Kitty," Lydia snarled. "Who asked you?"

"This isn't about manners, it's about what's healthy," Lizzie patiently explained. "Lydia, you need to go home."

"You gonna give me the bum's rush?" Lydia demanded.

"I'm not going to force you anywhere. In another few minutes you'll fall asleep anyway. Now do I need to carry you?"

"Oh, beat it, Lizzie!" Lydia said, turning away from her sister to ostentatiously watch the band.

Lizzie sighed and walked back to Charlotte.


As the band started up, Darcy saw him, talking to the lead singer. Darcy pushed away from the wall and threaded his way through the crowd, towards the band.

His quarry finished his conversation and left through a set of doors on one side. Darcy followed him and found himself in the kitchen. Waiters and cooks stared at him as he followed the gray fedora through the steam.

He left the kitchen, but Darcy was right behind him, and grabbed his arm as he turned the corner onto the alley.

"Wickham, you rat. Where is she? Where's my sister?" Darcy demanded.


And that's our chapter :) This was actually inspired by the original scene. Darcy's direct rudeness in the book (go read the original text - he actually made eye contact with Lizzie immediately before the "tolerable, but not handsome enough" line, so he must have known she could hear him, which gets glossed in the adaptations) is fairly out of character for him, and I've always thought it's because he'd come to Netherfield fresh from dealing with Wickham and his sister. So Wickham being literally present and causing Darcy to behave rudely isn't far from Wickham being figuratively present and causing Darcy to behave rudely.

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