It was her fault really. When Elizabeth rejoined the other four, she should've stood closer and appeared part of the group. But her hesitation stopped her. After all this time, she was none the wiser on how to approach an intimidating group of people and insert herself amongst the throng. Too many rejections had made her overtly cautious and start to take them personally. Now, Elizabeth didn't bother.

Did that make her a social outcast?

Probably.

She cared too much what other people thought, to voice her imperfections. Several had accused her of being quiet straight to her face. She'd just be chilling, part of a group, listening to their conversation...and it sounded so perfect and fluid as people bounced of each other with their harmonious synergy, more often than not, Elizabeth would forget to contribute. Her voice would break the melodious chain. There would be a pause, a few false starts, and the the music would continue around her.

Why introduce that break?

She didn't like people looking at her. Noticing her. Especially by strangers who called her out on her lack of social presence.

Charles...

Her breath caught.

Charles had been the first person in a long while who'd turned her opinion around. He'd accused her of being quiet, just on her looks alone. None of them had spoken to him before the introductory semi-circle. He hadn't turned to Natalie and gone, "Ah, the quiet one. What's your story?" Or to Michelle, Bianca or Neve. But her? What separated her from the rest of them besides her looks and the way she held herself?

What made him say that line to her?

Elizabeth scowled.

Why was she still bothered about it?

She knew she was quiet, so what did it matter if other people correctly guessed that as her defining characteristic, the second they met her? She could always cast them off as fools.

They were the type of people who didn't get to know the layers of a person, of which Elizabeth had many. But the initial dislike of Charles she'd felt, had reversed when he'd singled her out. Paid her the most attention.

What does that mean? Elizabeth thought profoundly.

That she only liked people who paid attention to her, therefore making her entire existence a walking contradiction?

"Ah. You must be the girls Charles selected."

Too late.

She should've stood closer to the girls when she had the chance. As it was, she wasn't the current target of an easy-going, tall, blond man who'd just stepped through the door of the small kitchen and was leaning back against the work-top, sleeves rolled up to his elbows just like Bingley.

The rest of them were lined up against the adjacent counter, though there was a noticeable gap between Neve and Elizabeth. It was like that gap said everything. It set the perimeter walls for the man to slide his gaze across, but whenever it came dangerously close to the gap, his eyes would blink, and he would focus on one girl in particular.

"I suppose the rascal never said the lucky candidate would be working for me?" He smiled, charming the girls. Elizabeth felt stone cold, taking him more seriously. His skin was creased around his eyes and his lips were quick to smile. But she wondered if it was an act. There was something about him that rang false.

He was too smooth and glib, life easy on him. How many times had he had his heart broken? Whether professionally, romantically or in another capacity? Maybe he never gave away his heart, just like her, but instead of sympathy, Elizabeth began to feel the deep roots of envy.

They could've been the same, except he had one ability she did not - to make people hang onto his every word.

She stared freely - perhaps giving the imaginary walls too much credit, because the next instant, the man's clear blue eyes skipped over and caught hers, like it was a trap all along.

Before she could turn away, his lips were moving.

" - any sports?"

She caught the tail end. "Huh?"

He repeated the question slower, trying to figure if she was slow or stupid. Both usually came hand in hand.

"Do you do any sports? How do you keep fit?"

"I-"

"Why do you ask?" asked Michelle. Even worse, flirtatiously. Elizabeth, as a rule, never flirted with men. She didn't know how.

The man let a deep chuckle rumble in his throat. He was back to appreciatively checking out the other four girls, his eyes noticeably skimming the length of Michelle's body, lingering at the places which showed skin, like the hollow of her throat and her bare legs. If he appreciated the other things on show, he didn't make it obvious.

"It's because I need a badminton partner," he said ruefully.

Elizabeth eyes' widened in horror.

Don't say it...Don't say it...

"Do any of you know to play?"

And there it was. The hook. What a stupid hook, but it was going to give him an excuse to...

"Haven't played it in years. Is that the one where you hit like this?"

Michelle mimed hitting a tennis ball.

The man gave a second appreciative chuckle, and his hand reached out to correct her posture. His hand closed over her tiny wrist, and he rotated it in his hand, causing Michelle to shiver, like she was lead of a badly written Harlequin romance novel. He stepped closer, the other palm bracing her elbow, and Michelle's knees noticeably gave. Elizabeth gave a noise of suitable disgust, not keen on watching this farce.

Dear sweet Jesus.

Charles hadn't been interviewing for a secretary. He was acquiring a blow-up girl for this nefarious character.

She barged past the man, wondering when her standards had become so low. As she sailed past, she dug an elbow into the man's back and he had to put two hands out, to stop himself from crushing into Michelle. By the time, he'd muttered his apologies and extracted himself, the demented woman had swept around the corner and was gone.

What was Charles thinking, sending her up here?

She appeared to be a dreary soul, that sucked the life out of everything.

He said so as such, when he next ran into Charles, some ten minutes later. He'd come down on the lift, wanting to suggest Michelle as his next secretary, when he saw his old friend, pacing up and down near the stairs. Neither of them noticed a nearby Elizabeth, popping open the lid of a 7-up she'd just bought from a foyer's vending machine. Now, there was nothing left to do but head out.

"Darcy!"

Elizabeth looked up, lips poised to take a sip, and saw the man who was so desperately seeking a badminton partner, be flagged down, by the man she thought she'd shared a bonding moment with. Charles jogged over, and placed a hand on Darcy's shoulder.

"I think I've found the one!"

"The one?" Darcy raised his eyebrows. "Congratulations. When's the big day?"

"No, you nitwit! Not me! For you!"

"Yeah, I met them. Pleasant bunch."

"Was there someone who stood out?" Charles said eagerly, practically bouncing on his toes. "She's a gem, isn't she? Really doesn't look like much, but when she opens her mouth! Lord, she's a keeper! And I had a look at her CV. By far, the most qualified. Over-qualified, even. I'm surprised, she even gave us a chance, rather than setting up a company of her own. Darcy, she's perfect. I just know it!"

"Who are you talking about?" Darcy asked suspiciously, enamored with Michelle, but not to the point, of saying she had sparkling wit and repertoire.

"Elizabeth, of course!"

Elizabeth, who was still in earshot, sprayed out the 7-up in her mouth with surprise. She immediately fled, to hide behind a nearby clustering of columns, because Charles and Darcy had turned to the source of noise. Heart pounding, Elizabeth laid her head back on the cool marble and let the exchange wash over her.

There was a suspenseful silence.

"Elizabeth..."

"Yeah, you know. Five six. Shoulder length brown hair. Kinda cute face."

Darcy groaned, now knowing exactly who Charles was referring to. He whined petulantly, almost as if he was a child, and not a man in his mid-twenties. "Oh, not the sour-faced harpie. Anyone but her. She didn't say a word when I saw her. And I tried. I honestly tried to engage her in conversation, but she appeared like one of those people, who has nothing to say, or nothing worth listening to anyway. She just doesn't fit in with our company image. Too drab and dreary. Not a spark of personality, to be seen. I mean, chrissake did you see her hair? Did she cut it in the dark?"

Elizabeth put a hand over her mouth, the comments stinging.

"William," Charles said, a bit forcefully. "She'll do you the world of good. I know exactly the type you go for, and I think hiring her, we won't make the same mistakes as last time. When you shagged the god-damn PA, and then she leaked your itinerary for the next six months, causing our shares to slump. So what, if we're only a second-rate business, offering holiday packages to cash-strapped customers? We'll get there. We'll get there."

"And you think Miss Boring is the way to do it?" Darcy asked dubiously. "God, she looks uptight and frigid to the bone."

"Are you lost?"

The receptionist behind her desk, had come around to pick up a stray food wrapper, and caught Elizabeth's silhouette lurking behind the columns. Terrified that she would come closer, Elizabeth ducked her head, and started edging towards the exit, sprinting the last few steps before she cleared the revolving door.

Outside, the humiliation began to sink in.

.

.

.

A/N: Katie...Darcy is here! :)

He is so "nice" to everyone, except Elizabeth. I plan to update consistently, so reviews really help :)