Welcome to the penultimate chapter. Sorry it's a few days late- I was crazy busy. Thank you, yet again, to those who have read all the way through, those who only joined recently but pulled all nighters to catch up, and those who have got annoyed with it, but carried on. You are all extraordinary. A special thank you to my reviewers, LJ, and particularly Kath267 who deserves a shout out. The rest of you, you know who you are. You've been awesome.

Oh, and those of you who whack your head against the wall every time I change perspective and don't tell you? Sorry. Just stick with it. There's a reward at the end.

C'est la dreck

Monday evening

"Hey."

"Hmm?"

"Can I ask you something?"

"Maybe."

"What happened to my aunt?"

Her smile twitches into a grin. "I have no idea."

I feel a smile pull at the corners of my mouth. "Right."

An hour earlier

In all my years, I have never seen my Aunt Catherine in any state less than pristine. Never a speck of dust. Never a smudge of make up. Never the possibility that she displays actually human emotions. Certainly, definitely, never a hair out of place. And yet.

Her lips thin as her gaze becomes steelier. "I think we need to discuss this, William."

He smiles, broadly. "I don't."

I sit down on the stairs, also smiling benignly. He filled me in earlier. On everything.

"Georgiana…" Aunt Catherine begins.

"No, I'm with Will," I say, swallowing my innate eight-year-old fear of Aunt Kate.

She swells with anger. "But…she wouldn't even contemplate making a small promise to me."

"What promise?"

Will also raises his eyebrows, determinedly calm, infuriatingly dispassionate.

For once, Aunt K looks a little unsure. "To…to not tie herself to you in a…inappropriate fashion…"

"Inappropriate fashion?"

Will looks up at me. "I think she means with some kind of bondage equipment." He looks like the picture that Mum had of him, with Dad swinging him round, aged three. His smile was wide and exuberant then, completely abandoned. It's wider now.

"I did not!" she splutters.

"Huh."

She stops, defeated. She closes her eyes, and takes a deep breath as she reaches up to smooth her, frankly, messy hair. It's pretty much everywhere, damp and crazy looking. Her genteel pats at it are doing nothing. She takes another deep breath, and opens her eyes again. "I would advise you," she says, finally giving up on her hair, "to remove yourself as far as possible from that girl."

Will says nothing. He stands still, eyebrows raised, politely indifferent.

"Well," she says, when she at last gives up hope of his agreeing with her. "I will expect to see you at next year's Christmas party."

"Really?"

She ignores Will, and raises her eyebrows, inquiringly, at me.

"We'll try," I say, "although," I add as Will snorts, "Will'll be pretty busy by then."

He gives me a look.

"Very busy," I amend, "but I'm sure that if he can get there, he will." I give him a look right back. It's a two way street, buddy.

He sighs. "Of course," he says, and smiles, briefly, at Aunt K.

"Very well." She tightens her overcoat, slings her handbag further up her arm, and turns to leave. She pauses. "A…merry Christmas…" she says, haltingly.

"And to you."

She leaves in a swirl of freezing air, and a following vacuum of triumphant silence.

Finally, I break it. "Will?"

"Hmm?" He breaks what is clearly a deep train of thought to look up at me. "What?"

"What did you do with the stick?"

"What stick?"

"You know," I say. "The one that for, I don't know, six, seven years, has been rammed up your…"

I don't get any further, before I find myself upside down, and travelling, over his shoulder, towards the garden.

Two hours earlier than that.

"I will only ask once more, Miss Bennet. Are you engaged to him?"

I swallow. My hands are shaking so much that I ball them into fists. This may not be the best plan. Now I am well armed to take her out. Innate stubbornness wills me to be vague. The desire to never see this woman again wins. "No," I finally say.

She breathes out a gusty breath. "And you would never let him suffer such a…" She tastes for the word. "Delusion," she finally manages, "as to entertain even the merest possibility of tying himself to you?"

I am speechless for maybe the second time in two years. Last time was when Will asked me to dance. I'd rather be back there right now than here. Any time. I take a second to watch the cars spin by, kicking up snow slush. "No," I finally hear myself say.

She looks stunned. It's nothing to how I feel.

"I beg your pardon?"

"No," I say again. "I don't know his heart, and I'm not sure that I even know mine right now, but I will certainly promise nothing to you."

She splutters. It's the first time that she has looked anything less than composed. I suppress a grin. "How dare you!"

I had kept calm until now. Just. But now? "You have dragged me out here in the freezing snow, lecturing me at a time when I least needed it. You never once inquired as to the health of my sister, despite the fact that you barged into her hospital room. You never once inquired as to my state, despite the fact that I'm in a strange city, trading on the kindness of friends, and coping with nearly losing my best friend. You know what? How dare you."

Her lips thin. She steps back. "Very well. I came here with the intentions of warning you, as a friend."

I laugh. She doesn't.

"I send no compliments to your family. After all of the stories of them I have heard, I can only hope that I have no cause to hear of them again." She gives the hospital a glance. "No doubt this was the most recent in a string of embarrassing incidents. Well." She ties the band of her jacket around her waist, cinching to a ridiculous degree. "This has been thoroughly disappointing." She swoops off, leaving me, hands shaking again. Almost without thinking, certainly without weighing the consequences, I do something very silly. And yet, very pleasing.

Fifteen minutes earlier

I feel like I've been run down. In truth, it turns out, that's pretty much what happened. Except, of course, I was in the car, not under it. I can see someone in the chair next to me, restlessly watching the television.

"Lizzie?" I croak out.

She turns from what appears to, appropriately, be Grey's Anatomy and smiles. "Hey there," she says. "How are you doing?"

"Mmm," I manage. I'm not sure that I can articulate more comprehensively.

She smiles. "You done freaking me out?"

It makes me smile. "Just about."

"Good."

The sound of raised voices floats into the room. "I'm sorry Ma'am, but I cannot allow you in. It's only family right now…"

"Nonsense."

Lizzie pales, grimaces and groans. "Hell, no…" she murmurs.

"What's wrong?"

She gives me a look of apologetic sympathy. "A fate worse than death."

The door opens, to reveal a thin woman with the most impressively styled hair I've ever seen. It doesn't appear to move. I am immediately keenly aware that I haven't even seen my hair for several days. "Miss Bennet," the woman says, icily. Thankfully, she doesn't appear to be looking at me.

"Yes," says Lizzie, smirking ever so slightly.

"I'm sorry," says the nurse, "Miss De Bourgh, if you don't leave I will have to call security."

She rolls her eyes, not even looking at the nurse. "Young lady, I would advise against it."

"Really," she says, looking amused.

Miss De Bourgh spins around, hands on hips, hair still not moving, and says, "young lady, do you know who I am?"

Clearly thinking that she is heading towards a diatribe, the nurse rocks onto her other foot.

"Well, do you?"

"I'm afraid, Ma'am…"

She stands still. Her clothes look as if they are made of some space aged steel, there are so few creases or even, you know, dust particles. "My late husband paid for this entire ward. You don't think that I can go wherever I want in this, frankly, poorly maintained ward?"

The nurse still hasn't left. She appears to be leaking confidence. "That may be the case, but at least Miss Bennet needs to give permission for you to be here."

Lizzie frowns, and murmurs, "damn her and her buck passing."

"Well of course she gives permission. Miss Bennet and I are old friends."

Lizzie snorts. Out loud. Then she blushes as all three of us look at her. "Well…"

"You realise," Miss De Bourgh says, hair still not moving, dragon hands clasping a hideous and yet massively expensive bag, "that with one phone call, I can have you fired."

The nurse's confidence ebbs further. She pales. "Please Ma'am, it is not my call."

She scowls, then turns on Lizzie. "Perhaps you would be good enough to talk to me outside." It doesn't appear to be a question. She swoops out like a bat. Out of hell. The door closes, and Lizzie lets out a slow breath.

"What was that?"

She grimaces. "Will's aunt. Lady Catherine De Bourgh."

This is the most excitement I've had since I woke up. It turns out that it's exhausting. "She doesn't go by her title?" I ask, reasonably incomprehensibly as it is mid-yawn.

Lizzie stands up. "No," she says, smiling a little. "She does."

"But the nurse…" I say, sleep pulling at my eyelids.

"Yeah," she says, shrugging on her winter jacket. "I'd imagine she's facing a pay cut." She picks up her cell and wallet, and walks to the door.

"Where are you going?" I ask, quickly followed by another yawn.

Lizzie pauses, one hand on the door, and grimaces again. "She asked me to talk to her out side. For some reason, I'm going to."

I'm not sure in what order that I say "good luck", the door closes and I fall asleep, but they all happen pretty fast. And then I dream about my wedding. Again.

Six hours earlier than that.

I am about to ring the doorbell, the front door opens, and out barrels a messy young woman, hair in her eyes, jeans worn, snow boots muddy. "Ouf…sorry!" she says, swerving just at the last minute. She sweeps her hair back out of her face, and her apologetic smile drops to something akin to a grimace. "Oh."

"Miss Bennet?"

"Mrs…Lady…De Bourgh."

I swallow the first three retorts that come to mind, and settle on the fourth. "Yes."

"Well," she says, pushing her hair away again, as it has fallen back in her eyes. "Sorry again. I need to be going." She walks down the stairs, and walks down the street, kicking up slush in front of her. Shaken, I turn back to the door. I take a deep breath, exhale, then calmly ring the bell.

Upon opening it William pauses, frowns briefly, and the smiles, not quite up to his eyes. "Aunt Catherine," he says, somewhat joylessly.

The air is continuing to be freeze. As it has the entire time from exiting my car until now. I look at him, pointedly. "Must I invite myself in?"

"Right. Yes." He opens the door further, then stands back to let me in. It is only as he closes the door that I realise that he should not be at home.

"What are you doing here?" I ask.

"It's my home." He looks a little confused.

I'm starting to loose patience, and the day has only really just begun. "Here in Washington. The very reason that I have come here is to find out why you and Georgiana were conspicuously absent from my Christmas party this weekend."

"Would you like a drink?" He ushers me into the living room, being infuriatingly unhelpful.

"William," I say, in what I hope is a warning tone.

"Coffee, tea?" he continues, hovering by the door, intent on leaving.

I sigh, and give in. For the moment. "Fine. Coffee."

He leaves me in silence for a few minutes whilst he clearly takes his time in the kitchen. However, after a hail of foot falls, Georgiana swings into the room, then practically skids to a halt. "Aunt Kate."

The girl looks like a startled fawn. "For pity sake child, I'm not some demon from hell. Come and welcome me properly."

She walks across the room, and kisses my cheek, before scuttling back to the door. "Is Will in the kitchen? I'll go and find him. I'll just be a…" Her voice is cut off as the kitchen door closes behind her, leaving me again in almost silence, broken only by furious murmured whisperings coming down the hall. Eventually, they reappear.

"You certainly took your time," I say, and accept the reasonably uncouth mug of coffee presented to me. I gave up on everyone else maintaining my high standards long ago. "Now will you sit down?"

Finally, William sits. Georgiana chooses the chair arm, closest to the door. I take a sip of the coffee, and try to imagine that it is pleasant. Even bearable. I give up.

"Your absence was embarrassing at the party. You know it is for your own benefit as for mine. Especially you Georgiana. A career in the arts has no certainty. You could at least meet one of the nice young men whom I employ."

"I'm sorry?" she says, with more than a look of her father about her.

William rests a hand on hers. "I'm sorry we weren't there Aunt Kate, but it has been quite a busy few days."

I raise an eyebrow. "Yes. I saw your 'guest'," I say. "No doubt you have been too busy entertaining her."

"Her sister was injured," blurts out Georgiana. "We've looked after her, if that's what you mean."

Clearly she has more than just a look of her father.

I take a deep breath. "William, are you aware of her connections? Of the utter embarrassment that her family creates?"

He swallows, blinks, then smiles. "No."

"Well," I say, angry just the memory, "Bill Collins has been keeping me informed, especially now since the oldest sister is to be married to Charles Bingley? What ever is the world coming too?"

"They've been engaged ever since the election."

"Preposterous." I extricate my diary from my handbag, and leaf through the pages until I find Bill's most recent email, printed out. "And what is even worse," I say, fighting to keep control, "is that certain people seen to believe that you and Miss Bennet, out there, are soon also to be engaged."

William freezes, frowns just a little and then smiles again, politely. "Really Aunt?"

He is infuriating. Eleanor was always something of a closed book. He has clearly taken after her. "Yes," I practically spit, stop, regain control, and smile. "Would you have any idea about why Bill Collins seems to think that you and Miss Bennet are headed for nuptial bliss?"

He smiles. "I have certainly never proposed."

Of course he hadn't. I breathe. "Of course. It was ridiculous." I take another deep breath. "I shall be around all day, seeing business associates." I stand up, leaving the revolting mug of what passes for coffee in this house, and tie my jacket tight. "I imagine that Miss Bennet is visiting her sister at George Washington?"

William also stands. "Uh…" he says, "yes, but you're not going to…"

I stop and give him a stern look. "I have associates at the hospital William. I was merely wondering in case I should happen to see her."

He gives me a hard look.

"I shall call later on my way home."

"You needn't," he says, all too quickly.

"And yet I shall." I pick up my hand bag again, and walk back out to the hall, where, as no one is there to help me, I have to let myself out. Once in the car, I leaf through my diary again. Sometime between the meeting with Fulston and presentation at Gage Whitney, I can fit in another meeting. A somewhat urgent meeting. The impeccable Floyd-Darcy bloodline is, after all, at stake.

Monday evening, nine and a quarter hours later

A long weekend of combined new understanding, sincere help, and a lot of good cooking can often result in a sleepily contented silence. Will looks up from his paper, to see Georgiana laptop in hand, checking her emails, and Lizzie deep in a good book. He smiles, and sighs at such quiet contentment. Finally, he says, "hey," and Lizzie looks up slowly, one eye still on the book.

"Hmm?"

He puts down the paper. "Can I ask you something?"

She smiles and, with a finger in the right page, closes the book. "Maybe."

Will frowns a little, one hand rubbing his jaw. "What happened to my aunt?"

George looks up as she closes her laptop.

Lizzie's smile blossoms into a full on grin. "I have no idea," she says, all innocence.

Will begins to smile. "Right," he says, a look of sheer disbelief.

"You don't believe me?"

He shakes his head. "All I know is that this morning she was her usual pristine self, and this evening…"

"She wasn't," finishes George, standing up. "Was she a mess when you saw her?"

"No", says Lizzie. "At least, not at the beginning…" She looks away, trying not to grin quite so much.

"What happened?" presses George.

Lizzie looks up. "I may, possibly, just possibly," she qualifies, "as she walked away, have, possibly, thrown a snowball at her."

George shrieks. "NO! Lizzie, you fearless, fabulous…"

Will laughs. Properly laughs. "Oh," he exclaims, eyes full of amazement, "I love you."

The previous cacophony dies, and the silence yawns. Will flinches, and then looks away.