Jane tried to focus on Bertie Wooster's antics, but it was hard to read while her patient was sleeping so uneasily. Georgiana was dreaming, probably reliving the past week in her sleep. She'd struggled against dream assailants, and pleaded for her brother or her parents or for George. Now she was crying and whispering "Violet. I'm sorry, Violet," over and over again.

Jane leaned forward and stroked the sleeping girl's face. "Shhh," she whispered, "It's okay. Everything's okay now. Just sleep."

Georgiana settled back down, and Jane pulled her chair a little closer to the bed before picking up her book again. She wished Mr. Darcy was in the house, since his voice seemed to comfort Georgiana more than Jane's did. But the nightmares wouldn't last forever, and Georgiana was healing.

Jane suddenly looked back up at Georgiana, puzzled. Who was Violet? Mr. Darcy had mentioned talking to chorus girls named Dolly, Sally, and Trixie, but no Violet. Maybe she was a school friend? Jane shrugged, making a mental note to ask Mr. Darcy about Violet next time he visited.


Darcy sat down and opened his newspaper, determined to concentrate. The reviews of his latest show were good, but it clearly wasn't the sensation they'd been looking for. Perhaps they should rework the second act - it was clearly the weakest.

His eye skimmed over the other articles. The paper gleefully reported the story of a wealthy young woman who had spent her entire fortune on cocaine before dying of pneumonia. Apparently her family claimed they'd had no idea she was using drugs. Sensationalist drivel. He'd been right to do everything possible to keep Georgiana out of the papers.

Footsteps made him look up. Elizabeth Bennet had crossed the room, her arms full of books to reshelve. She set them down and began searching for the right place for the first book. Her black mary janes seemed to emphasize her slim ankles as she stood on tiptoe to reach the top shelf.

A girl in her late teens approached Elizabeth. "Miss Bennet? Could you help me again?"

Elizabeth put down the book she had just picked up and smiled at the girl. "Of course, Molly. Are you still reading Sense and Sensibility?"

Molly shook her head. "No, we finished that. It was really sweet at the end. This is Shakespeare." Her voice sounded so doleful that Darcy chuckled to himself.

Elizabeth glanced over at Darcy in annoyance, but immediately refocused on Molly. "I'm sure we'll manage to work it out," she said cheerfully, guiding Molly to a table and sitting down in one of the chairs, "Shakespeare isn't so bad once you get the knack of it. Which play is it?"

Molly sat and pulled out her book. "It's called Much Ado About Nothing. We had to read the first scene, and I don't think I understood any of it!"

Elizabeth laughed softly as she watched Molly find the place. "Well, the trick with Shakespeare - especially the comedies - is to assume that anything you don't understand is probably a sex joke."

Molly looked up, eyes wide. "Really?" she asked.

Elizabeth shrugged. "Really. Talking about nookie was as popular then as it is now. People don't really change that much." She turned a page of the book and began to explain the context of the play.


After Molly and Elizabeth had identified all the sex jokes (and discussed the actual events) in the first scene of Much Ado, Elizabeth got up to finish shelving books. Darcy found himself watching her do so, admiring the curve of her neck and the way she swiveled her hips slightly when she was thinking or looking for the right place on the shelf. When she went back to the front desk, he impulsively got up and followed her.

She looked up at him, eyebrows raised. "Do you need anything, Mr. Darcy?" she asked.

"No," he said. He stood for a minute, staring at her, and then recollected himself. "I'm just going out to get something to eat."

She nodded. He fidgeted slightly, but didn't actually move.

"So, all of Shakespeare reduced to sex jokes," he teased lightly.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Not all of it, of course. Shakespeare is appealing because it reminds us that humans are always human. Arrogant, prideful, vain..."

The corner of his mouth quirked up. "And witty," he said, looking at her, "you must not forget witty."

"Yes," she said flatly, and turned back to her work.

Darcy smiled and went out to find a restaurant.


While he ate, Darcy wondered what was getting into him. He'd almost asked Elizabeth if she wanted to join him, which would have been insanity. Quite aside from Georgiana's state, getting involved with a small-town librarian was a ludicrous idea. He knew some of the wealthiest and most sophisticated women in New York, and he needed a wife who would know how to conduct herself around other wealthy men.

Of course, he couldn't imagine any of those women giggling over Shakespeare. Most of them hadn't read him since high school, and the few that had never deigned to notice the comedies.

He paid his bill and left the restaurant, and was about to head back to the library when he saw Caroline leaving a shop a few doors down, bracelets flashing and nose in the air. He ducked back into the restaurant entryway, but fortunately she was going the other direction. It occurred to him that if Caroline was out shopping, he could visit Georgiana while she was gone.


Elizabeth looked at the clock. Darcy really should have been back by now, assuming he was planning on returning after he ate. So apparently he wasn't coming back. Not that she cared, of course, she was just keeping an eye on who came and went in her library, as she always did.

A delivery of new books had arrived, including a bound collection of new Sherlock Holmes stories. Elizabeth remembered reading Doyle's stories with Jane, and how much they both enjoyed them. Perhaps Jane would enjoy these too, while she was working. Elizabeth checked the collection out in Jane's name, put a sign on the desk saying she'd be back in twenty minutes, and headed out towards Mr. Bingley's house.


So I realized I was getting kinda bored with the story, so I'll be taking it off in a different direction than what I had intended. Well, more or less anyway. Should be fun.

I'm assuming that Sherlock Holmes (which was published in the UK) took a couple of years to reach the States. Or maybe the library just took a while to get it.

And Shakespeare really does have a lot of sex jokes.

Please review! It makes me happy!