There's not much to see when you're inside a Chinese Dragon

"You really think it's all that bad?"

Jane, home for a rare weekend, sits at the end of Lizzie's bed. Kit paces the length of the room. Mary sits in the window seat, sketching out of pure frustration.

"Yeah," says Lizzie. "He's the jealous type. He won't want to share her, especially if he thinks that we don't approve."

"How could he possibly ever think that we will approve?" mutters Mary, darkly.

"Maybe he did the honourable thing…?" begins Jane, before stopping at three equally incredulous expressions. "Or not."

"Don't fool yourself," says Kit on her three-hundredth lap of the room. "Lydia wasn't holding out for marriage."

Her three sisters all pull expressions of distaste.

"You can't imagine how much I don't want to know," says Mary, picking up charcoal and sweeping it across the page.

"Me either," mutters Lizzie, pulling her knees up tighter to her chin.

"I knew," explodes Kit, kicking the wall before wheeling round and pacing back the other way. "I knew that something was going on. She kept on talking about her mystery man, about how they were going to meet up and how great it was that she had a tent all to herself…"

"Seriously," snaps Mary, shooting her sister a dark look. "I really don't want to know."

Kit scowls at her, but thankfully does not continue. She sighs. "She even said that she hoped you never found out," she says, looking at Lizzie. "I should have known," she says, and kicks the wall again.

Jane attempts to reach out to her sister, but Kit continues walking out of range of Jane's hand. "She deliberately didn't say anything to anyone explicitly."

"Thank goodness."

Jane shoots a look at Mary, then turns back to Kit. "It's not your fault."

Kit stops, leans against the door, then slides down it until she is sitting on the floor. "I know she's an idiot" she begins, "but is it really all that bad? I mean, they're just married. It's not like they're doing it all in front of us or something"

Mary pulls an expression of such revulsion that Lizzie almost laughs. She pulls herself together. "That might have been better. I mean, from what you say, that's pretty much what Lydia's been doing anyway."

"Oh come on," mutters Mary, but she is ignored by her sisters.

"This way, as far as she's concerned, she has made it. She doesn't need college, doesn't need our money, and doesn't need us."

Jane frowns. "We're more than a bank to her, Liz. I know," she continues at Lizzie's expression, "you don't think so, but we're family."

"This isn't a Disney movie," says Mary. "She won't suddenly come to a crashing realisation that she needs us. Not, at least, until the money dries up and Wickham leaves her, pregnant, for someone else."

"Mary!"

"She's right," says Lizzie, wearily. "George isn't a monster. He might even love her. I know, I know we're not just a bank to her, but from what Kit says, she has fallen entirely for him. Why wouldn't she choose him?"

Jane looks horrified. "We're her family."

"George is her family now."

Silence hangs in the room as Mary's statement is digested.

"She might as well be dead," mutters Kit, before she gets up and leaves the room.

"Kit!" calls Jane after her.

"From what Lizzie says, it's the truth."

"Mary…please…" Jane climbs off the bed and goes after Kit, leaving Lizzie and Mary alone.

"It is, isn't it?" asks Mary, looking up from the page before her.

Lizzie shrugs. "I don't know. If by some miracle George can be convinced that it's not us or him then they might stick around for holidays or something. Lydia certainly doesn't hate us."

Mary scoffs. "What great optimism," she says, and unfolds her legs from beneath her.

"Well she doesn't."

Mary pauses on her way out of the doorway. "Then maybe it's that I hate her," she says and walks out leaving Lizzie alone.

My early morning coffee on the railing outside the house has become impossibly precious to me. With all the confusion in the house, Mom not knowing whether to be thrilled or horrified, Dad away, inevitably about to find them and try to break them up, Kit miserable, Mary furious and Jane confused when she's here and impossibly upbeat via email, these silent, delightfully caffeinous moments are vital for my survival.

"Hi," says a voice, breaking my solitude, and I turn to find Charlotte standing there.

"What are you doing here?"

She smiles. "I heard you needed a helping hand."

"Oh haven't you heard? The house is full of them." I never knew I could sound so bitter.

"A friend then," she says softly, and climbs the rail beside me. The ring on her fourth finger glitters, taunting me.

"How's Bill?" I ask.

"Fine," she says.

"Really?" I say, sounding, if possible, more bitter. "He's not…" I take a deep breath and look across at her expression of resilient patience. "Sorry," I say slowly. "I'm in a horrible mood."

"It's fair enough," she says, and steals my coffee for a sip. "How's it going?" she asks a minute later, handing my mug back to me.

I shrug. "Dad's still trying to find them, Mom has decided for the moment that it is a despicable and shameful to destroy the sanctity of marriage like this, Mary has decided that she hates Lydia, and Kit cries herself to sleep."

Charlotte gives me a hard look, then scoots up along the rail and puts her arms round me. "Well," she says, her voice muffled by my hair, "normal then."

I laugh and edge out an arm to return Charley's hug. "Something like that."

"Kit'll be all right."

I nod slowly. I know she will too.

"Miri's coming over in a bit with a massive stack of movies and cake and stuff."

"She doesn't have to."

Charley grins. "She wants to. Don Zamzow hasn't noticed her at all these last few weeks."

"Miri and Don? Really?"

She rolls her eyes. "She likes him, but you know how he is. So shy as you can't believe, but I reckon it'll work out. As it will," she adds, "with you."

I shrug in return. "Maybe."

"Your Dad's still trying to find them?"

"Yeah," I say. "He's staying with Phil and Aliz, but I think he's going to come home soon."

"You told him you thought it was a bad idea?"

I shrug again. My shoulders are starting to ache after these last few days. "I told him that they could stay away as long as they wanted to and not be found by us. He knows that he can't call any of the law in to help. Not without some massive case which we can't afford. And I told him that there was more chance of them turning up if they thought that we'd be cool with it."

"Has your Dad ever been cool with anything?"

I smile slightly. "Certainly not when it comes to any of us."

We sit in silence for a few minutes, Charley stealing my coffee again then giving it back, as we watch the sun rise over the fields.

"And what's up with you?" she asks eventually.

Damn her and her ninja skills. "It's nothing really," I begin, but she raises her eyebrows and smiles a little, and I feel like hitting her. "Fine," I say. "How would you feel if Bill had a sister who was married to the one person in the world that you could not stand?"

"How would I feel if Bill's brother-in-law was Ryan Seacrest?"

"Fine. Seacrest, except he hasn't just assaulted you via the television. Imagine he has done something to potential ruin your life."

"He has," she says. "He continues to ruin my favourite shows."

"Charley…"

She grins. "Fine. OK. I get your scenario."

I take a deep breath. "How would you feel about Bill, in that case? Always connected to the man you hate. Always stuck with him. What would you do?"

She puts her head on one side, clearly thinks about digging deeper, then thankfully gives it up. "I don't know," she says finally. "I mean, part of me would find him being family hard, you know? You can't really take sides once you're all related. You're just stuck with each other. So maybe it would make me re-evaluate my relationship, but then, you know, I think I'd just be more determined. I guess in the long run, being with Bill is more important than being a bit put out every now and then because of family because, you know, that's just how family is anyway. Does that make sense?"

I nod. "Just about."

"Right, well, what do you know? Bill has a secret, Seacrest loving sister?"

I smile. "No."

"So who is it?"

Damn. I'd hoped that she would be tactful and let me deal with this on my own and…who am I kidding?

"Will."

She frowns. "Will Darcy Will?"

"Yeah."

"Who does he have a problem with? Or is it you? Sorry, your analogy has confused me…"

"Wickham. Will and George have a long and messy past."

Charley sits silent for a minute. "So, George and Lydia, and you and Will?"

It's not like we're a couple. I can't put us together like that, but even so, it has been bugging me ever since I found out. What would he want with me now? Why would he want to ever be with…

"You and Will? Really?" Charley buts in, mystified. "But I thought you hated him."

"I did," I say, miserably, "kind of, but it all has just changed. I don't know…"

"You and Will," she breathes. "He still loves you?"

I sigh. "I don't know."

"Do you love him?"

"I don't know."

"Wow," she breathes again, and silence falls. Finally after a few quiet minutes, she turns back to me. "I'll tell Miri to bring loads of cake."

"And While You Were Sleeping. I need Bill Pullman and his truck and boots right now."

She grins and puts her arms back round me. "OK," she says, kisses me somewhere on the forehead, then climbs off down the rail.

Chapter 30! Huzzah! We're getting there peeps.

Fanfiction and I are having a little scuffle right now, so I apologise if the formatting is off.

Thank you, yet again, for the unending support and cheerleading. You guys are extraordinary.

Also, thank you to my sister (who I tried to thank yesterday, and Fanfiction clearly decided that she didn't deserve it), who has been consistently brilliant, an excellent editor, and unfailingly encouraging. You are, and always will be the Annette Crosbie to my Gemma Craven.