Thanks to all my betas who contributed in different ways: lovingyouisbest, JD Bell; Joy Booth and Fredrica.

Final tweaking is my own.

You've got a lot to learn

She thought she was awake, eyes opening with his body wound around her. But it was so strange, she couldn't account for the rushing of a waterfall, her heart lurched when she realized their bed was suspended in a sort of tree house fashion, at the pinnacle of an immensely high water fall. The calls of eagles circled closer and closer, flapping around her in a cacophony which easily drowned out the thundering cascade. Their swooping flight was a message for her that she couldn't make out. Were they threatening her to get out of their nest? Were they warning her?

She looked around everso carefully, afraid any movement would result in her fall from this monumental height. At first she saw nothing but when she looked at the foot of the bed again, there was an ancient chalice filled with water. How had she not noticed this before? She reached for it and in an instant found she had awakened, half sitting on the regular antique bed, in the room where she'd originally slumbered. The only thing out of the ordinary was a distant chiming of bells she presumed to be some antique bell and pulley system in this hotel. She looked around at the normal room and curled up to try to return to sleep.

xox

It was for naught. She could never sleep in after drinking. Her attempts started out well enough, remembering his seductions at the club, the shop and then last night. Her heart gave frightening tugs as she thought of That Man. Her mind couldn't make sense of this new feeling and tried to make sense of it. Instead, with a complete lack of inner filter, she lay vulnerable to recollections of every intense moment since she'd met him, and those other memories intruded.

Memories of their all-too-frequent head butting over artistic decisions. Too many of which ended up going his way. Then there was his officious advice giving about her artistic temperament, career, and Wickham's warnings, many of which became eerily true….Her heart seemed to rend with the multiplicity of information, declaring itself unable to process what the mind could not. Where her heart gave up, her mind could not, continuing its perseverations.

xox

She lay there, her mind whirling, even as her body was occupying this dreamy bed, with an even dreamier man, caressing her body. She hardly noticed him, sleepily engrossed in her ruminations.

Well, she did notice him, remembering all the things he said about her designs. He hadn't liked the later era she'd used. He thought she could have sent the designs sooner than she did. It seemed, even now, he was forever checking up on her work. She knew his backdrops had a lot to do with her costumes, but still. He was so concerned, like he was afraid she'd make him look bad and ruin the production.

His harsh critiques of her work reminded her of other occasions in her artistic career of critiques which she'd rather forget. As much as she disliked Caroline, she respected her work. Lizzy was not a little hurt when Caroline had popped into the shop with Charles once and had sneered at the work they did, calling it decent enough for people who couldn't create their own work. Maeve had been furious but Lizzy was used to such criticism.

Her own mother, who constantly scoffed at Lizzy's desire to make clothes and costumes, calling her it 'inconsequential to the cause of agriculture.' Even when she made most of Lydon and Kitty's show outfits, her mother hardly complimented her, merely saying, 'I suppose that will do. It's cheaper than store bought. Just make sure it doesn't fall apart or anything. I know how you aren't careful about your work.' This added insult to injury, and it was a very personal sort of dig her mother made.

Lizzy had more than a couple of moments when her engineering hadn't met up to the architecture in her head. A particularly embarrassing episode involving a bandage dress she'd designed that popped open at an inopportune moment in public came to mind. She had made the number for prom, black lace and skin peeked through draped scarlet taffeta strips. Except, she'd finished it just an hour before prom and hadn't time to test out whether the stitches would hold. Just when she was dancing to Safety Dance, her left boob popped free of the lace and taffeta, in the middle of the dancefloor. While several people early in the night complimented Lizzy on her design, the same people were laughing at her when she had her accident. It was mortifying. Lizzy learned then to at least prepare more.

Even as she had grown, becoming better at her work, more accomplished, it wasn't acknowledged by those from whom she needed it most: Her own parents and siblings had yet to come to any of the productions she'd costumed. and didn't even ask to see pictures. Come to think of it, Jane was the only one who saw her work outside of 4-H, besides the Phillips and Gardiners.

xox

How could she do her work with someone who was so distracting…and… and… It was really hard to think and to maintain such a tense posture in bed when one's bedmate was becoming amorous, Lizzy groused inwardly, trying to repress the inner turmoil. She became more and more tense with each kiss.

"Is everything alright"? He asked.

"Fine, I just have a bit of a headache. I drank too much and slept too little." She felt him move around behind her, embracing her, pecking her on the cheek, more chastely, then getting out of bed. He was silent although she could hear occasional zipping and rustling and the like. She assumed he was readying himself.

She continued to lie there, her back to him, fuming at his silence. He didn't try very hard, did he? He was probably being condescending in his mind about how she was now being silent. Well, let him. She'd be silent the whole trip. "I think I'll take a shower."

"Take your time. I'll get ready to go downstairs." From beneath his lashes, Darcy subtly regarded Lizzy's porcelain form as she waded with the duvet across the room to the bath. She thought he sounded aloof as ever.

Darcy made quick work setting the suite to rights, packing both their possessions into their respective bags and going downstairs with his I Pad. Seating himself at one of the dining tables, Darcy then busied himself with prop lists and his own production notes until Lizzy came down to breakfast.

She hadn't even poured the coffee when he turned, doing that intense thing he did with his eyes. I was thinking a double set with pearls would do nicely for the wedding, don't you?

"My, how a young man's thoughts turn easily from introduction, to seduction to marriage, in just that order." Lizzy knew she sounded too sarcastic. She couldn't help it.

"I didn't mean you." His mouth was quirked up.

That really irritated her. "Of course you wouldn't. But you think nothing of ordering my work, and every detail of our time, down to the second of this trip, do you?"

"How could I order this trip? Do you think the accident was my fault? Bingley getting sick was my doing? That's absurd! And as for the other things… no, I don't want to talk about it" (his voice began to rise) "I thought we'd been over this. Why do you have to misread…. Nevermind!... Gah! It's so- so- frustrating. How can we go from an incredible afternoon and intimate, mindblowing sex" (the latter words said in a stage whisper)" to you willfully misunderstanding everything I say and do? You're so confusing!" He widened his eyes and leaned toward her to emphasize the word confusing.

"You're one to talk. Frustrating? Confusing? What about you!?" She whispered furiously.

"What about me?" His brows knit.

Before her mind could catch up, her mouth opened, spewing out sentiments from she knew not where. It hadn't even been her train of thought before, but, then, she couldn't tell him her deepest doubts. He'd only reinforce them.

Instead, she spoke fiercely in low tones, "I experience such differing accounts of you as to puzzle me exceedingly. Before I ever met you, a certain unfortunate man tells me about how hurt he was by his old family friend. I had no idea you were one and the same man who had taken over the production via correspondence. Then I meet you, having no idea who you are, and you seduce me. Later, this old friend tells me you are a half cocked visionary. But then, others tell me what a loyal, generous friend and relation you are. You vacillate wildly from ordering my career to seduction, sometimes in less than 24 hours. Towards me you alternate between critical and complimentary, obsessed and indifferent- all equally officious. Regardless of your ex-friend's character, his warnings seem to come true and I am afraid that they all will come true. Is it any wonder I am confused, and frustrated?"

"It sounds like you've already decided I'm either mad or a villain. You accused me of running hot to cold and yet it seems you're doing the same. A great manipulator is skillful at taking enough of the truth to make his fictions convincing. If my ex friend is so unfortunate, how can you believe him? Don't try to sketch my character this morning, I don't think it will do either one of us any good." His voice was quiet and eyes dark.

She held his stare, unflinching. "I'm afraid if I don't sketch your character now, I'll regret it." When he flinched, Lizzy pushed herself from the table and stood. "I've finished my coffee. I don't think I have an appetite for breakfast."

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The two walked out in less than companionable silence. Lizzy busied herself on the drive home with lists for the production while Darcy put in earbuds and was listening to his period playlist for relaxation.

By the time they were passing White Sands, Darcy decided to say something. "I can't tell you about my history with a certain man because it will out certain situations that are not mine, but that of a loved one. I imagine that if Lydon had such a secret, you'd sooner seek my trust than reveal his secret. It is a story who only its experiencer has the right to tell. This isn't dishonesty, which I abhor, this is a matter of personal safety, even."

Lizzy frowned in confusion. What did Lydon have to do with such a big secret? Her brother couldn't keep a secret if he tried. But Lydon could also take care of himself in the area of safety- well if he didn't do such asinine things…

She willed herself to concentrate on the rest of Darcy's statement. "It really is no wonder that you run hot and cold when my actions make little sense to you. I don't know that they make sense to me, all the time. I'm proud of what I do, what we do, but it is under good regulation, and my exacting standards always get good results from the production. I know what you say- what people say- about that, but afterward, many times, my production teammates have come back to thank me for the experience. I know I'm intense when I work, but I mean well. For you, it's more than that. I try hard to repress my feelings for you when at work. My intentions are nothing but the highest and if you let me… No, I'm getting ahead of myself. You are right to justify your own feelings. You need time. I propose that for now, we simply try to be in the moment and enjoy what is now."

Lizzy looked at him, suspiciously, considering his somewhat tangential 'proposal'."What do you mean?"

"I am suggesting that it might make sense if we were not to try yet to define it. Illusions of me, of you, will clear up if we are in the moment." Darcy answered.

She caught herself before rolling her eyes but pointed out, "Uh, you're speaking in nonsense language again."

"It's a practice in a lot of mystery schools. Mindfulness.* Be in the moment, experience what IS, from your inner observer. Notice how you feel, what is happening around you."

"Riiiiight."It sounded to her like some mystical comment Tia Lena would spout. Lena's esoteric ideas always turned out to be right, as ridiculous as they started out sounding. But this idea? That Darcy was saying it- made it hard to figure as being either valid or invalid. It made her head hurt worse to even contemplate.

"For example, just a moment ago you were involved in your lists. If my former experiences and our earlier argument are any indication, you were likely also muttering to yourself mentally somewhere in that pretty head of yours 'what a bastard Darcy was some day or another'. Meanwhile, we were driving in my very comfortable car, autumn leaves and the lightest covering of snow passing you by. I realize Alamogordo was nothing much to take in, but now we've just driven through White Sands*, a spectacular field of dunes in the distance. He glanced at her for verification."

She couldn't help but smile. "True."

He returned her smile, "And right next to you is a handsome man (if I do say so myself, not brag or anything) who would love nothing more than to hold your hand (for a start, anyway), the same man who made passionate love to you last night, and would have done again this morning except that you had a headache. Regardless, here he remains eager to hold your hand and enjoy the remaining car ride with the enchantress next to him."

"But what about when we get back to the theatre?" Lizzy asked.

"What about then? Your question seems to imply a question about us." Darcy's statement seemed to Lizzy to be a little smug.

Still she answered. "I suppose."

He went on, "And now you're off again anticipating future events while not enjoying the present. And if you'd been in the present- NOT in the past- you wouldn't be asking that question. I may live in the moment but I also have been eager to commit more. But, we're living in the moment, not reliving the past, so I won't bore you with those details. That's another lesson for another time, were we to consider other times. But we're only considering the now."

She rolled her eyes. "No, listen, again, if you were to consider the bulk of what you know of me, when have I ever said to you and what I have done, can you say that I have consistently indicated my interest in your company?"

She growled. "Well, yes, but-"

He stopped her. "No buts. Yes or no."

She didn't know whether to be mystified or to call bullshit. It felt a little like bullshit but he was so damn irresistible and she couldn't help but admit their liaisons had been enjoyable, and that he was the most fascinating man she'd ever met. Part of her admitted that she needed to see where this would go. Maybe he was right and their disagreements were mostly her stories. But she still couldn't answer him. "How about I avoid answering yes or no, you accept that for what it is, and I try your way of being in the present- for now."

"Fair enough. Now, how about coming a little closer?" She snuggled next to him, having determined that her lists were thoroughly gone over for the time being. He put on Day and Age* as they finished their drive in relative peace.

xox

While it was a Saturday, Lizzy and Darcy were met with a fairly full theatre when they returned. It was still early enough in the day that, after they had unpacked their treasures, both returned to production mode, inspired and energized.

Lizzy was consumed with trying her new pieces with each garment she'd mentally chosen them to accompany. After trying several different arrangements, Lizzy realized she'd inadvertently put the pearls just where Darcy had recommended them to go but the results were not as striking as she wanted. She continued to mix and match pieces until an idea struck. It would mean alterations to Darcy's mural. She cringed to think of having to break it to him but forged ahead, anyway. Lizzy was rewarded with the visual results.

The inspiration and instincts were correct: She had put coral and gold accents on the otherwise white adorned brides- some earrings here, a necklace there, hints of the hues in underpinnings and trims, while the grooms wore grass and indigo waistcoats. The bride and groom ensembles were in otherwise light neutral hues- creams, whites and light grays. By the time she was done, it was dinnertime and she wondered if he was even here, still.

With trepidation, Lizzy moved into the backstage area to request Darcy's viewing before she struck the items back into their stock areas. She came to a breathless halt upon seeing that he was altering the corresponding portion of mural with a book opened to none other than the David Psyche and Eros Painting, which held similar hues as had inspired her. Darcy's eyes flicked toward her when he heard her gasp."Come here, you need to see this."

He had been putting things away when she'd arrived and Lizzy patiently waited as he finished. Looking around, he saw that the rest of the theatre was likely having a meal or drink and so, with no witnesses took her hand. She led him to the shop where he had the same response upon viewing her work. I know. She whispered in response. The heavens seemed to agree as suddenly they were consumed with the rushing sound of a downpour outside.

He helped her strike the pieces to make quicker work. Both were unusually wordless in the endeavor. "Want to find a late dinner? How about I follow you?" They easily agreed upon a nearby favorite Italian joint. Dinner was consumed in separate contemplation, with spare but agreeable dialogue about the progress of their work. After they finished, it was past 9 and the sky was clear. She secretly hoped he'd ask her to go back to his room, but didn't voice these hopes after he moaned how exhausted he was. Lizzy asked to retrieve her things from the Mercedes then stowed them safely in her back seat. As she turned he gently took her shoulders and planted a soft kiss on her lips.

She responded to the kiss, her fingers combing through his curls. "What an unexpectedly lovely end to our adventure."

He smiled, pressing her form a little closer. "I should hope we are only in the middle of an adventure, but agree that it was lovely, Elizabeth." He was rewarded with another sweet kiss than ended far too soon. He was left standing against his car as she got into hers and drove away. He felt light rain drops falling and reluctantly went his own way to the place he was staying.

* mystery schools being those practices which become increasingly esoteric whether they are new age such as Eckhart Tolle, Don Miguel Ruiz, old, such as certain sects of Buddhism, Kabbalah, Gnosticism, Sufisim, or in between, as in Jungian Psychology- all teach some form of mindfulness/ being present in the moment. There's a lot more to them though which I will partially get to in the story. They often also contain 'messages to the few' vs messages to the many.

*Alamogordo is near White Sands. Photo/site of the far reaching gypsum dunes: www dot nps dot gov/whsa/index dot htm

*The Killers

There's something to be said for pushing through

"Sonofabitch!" Lizzy nearly yelled.

"What?" Maeve looked up from hemming a dress.

"Maeve, I did it this time, and he wasn't even around for me to blame it on." Lizzy furiously removed pins from some pattern pieces, jabbing them into the pin cushion.

"Let me guess, you really did cut 3 sleeves." Maeve didn't even look up.

Lizzy thought Maeve sounded far to nonchalant about this disaster." How'd you know?"

It was maddening how the woman continued to work, unphased. "Lucky guess. The most common mistake made, not only by yourself. So?"

"So what? I thought you'd be a little bit more concerned." Lizzy unnecessarily, and repeatedly jabbed pins in and out of the pincushion.

She finally looked up and peered at Lizzy from behind granny glasses. "Of course I am, but what do you propose the solution is?"

Lizzy wished Maeve hadn't looked up, because the woman looked at her pointedly until she stopped poking the pincushion. "Well, I laid out the pattern and accidentally cut into part of the topskirt muslin which was pinned on the other side. That's why I didn't see it."

Maeve resumed her work. "Why didn't you just flip it and pin fabric on the both sides of the paper to prevent the mistake?"

Lizzy held up the offending pieces and the remainder of fabric which had been meant for a bigger skirt. "I must be tired. You're right. Anyway, I can make the top skirt cut away instead of being a solid skirt."

Maeve regarded the pieces she held up. "I actually think that would be a better design than the original. I like it."

Lizzy sighed. "Thank you. I'm too tired to fix it right now. I think I'll leave it and take a break for a few minutes."

"That's an excellent idea. Too bad we don't have any boys to give us neckrubs." Maeve stopped and did some neck circles.

"Heck, I'd settle for some chocolate. I think I'm going to hunt some down at the Gourmet Grocery." Lizzy said.

"That sounds fantastic, let me get my purse. Will you get me the chile chocolate?" Maeve presented Lizzy with money for her purchase.

Elizabeth was headed out the same time Darcy also was walking towards his car. "Hey, fancy running into you". He looked around surreptitiously before following Lizzy to her Toyota and enthusiastically greeting her in an ardent kiss, pinning her against the car.

After some minutes he pulled away and she looked up at him, "Well hello to you, too. How are things?"

Darcy wore a sheepish expression. "I um, made a… miscalculation and decided to take a break."

Lizzy looked incredulous. "What? You made-gasp- a mistake?"

He cleared his throat. "Careful Miss Bennet, I still have you in a compromising position. Should I remind you who's bigger?"

His finger tips drifted threateningly close to the most ticklish areas on her sides. "Alright, alright! Uncle."

He laced his hands through hers. "You gave up far too readily. I was hoping for a fight."

She squeezed his hands. "Well, unfortunately, I made a miscalculation of my own and I'm too tired to fight. In fact I was just getting a little sustenance in the form of chocolate for Maeve and myself."

"Why don't I drive us, I was headed to the Gourmet Grocery, too." She shivered under his intense gaze as they contined to hold hands.

They chattered about projects on the short trip there and back. Upon their return they popped back in the shop to give Maeve her requested treat. The three sat outside the department at the Costume Shop Babe's favorite bench where they often observed sartorial successes and failures walking down the mall to and from classes. Being that it was late evening on a weekend, no one was out except a few stars twinkling above.

They enjoyed conversation and sampled each other's snacks – Darcy had opted for sea salt chocolate while Lizzy had lavender chocolate. Each declared their own to be the best. Chocolate bars finished, the three returned to painstakingly problem solve and correct their mistakes. They wrapped up somewhere between 9 and 11 along with many other crew and went their own ways. It had been a typical day.

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The ambitious production was demanding of every last one of its members. While anticipated, the extent of labor seemed to have magically expanded in scope. The more the crew worked, the more seemed to need to be accomplished. Wandering students, faculty, family and friends would be drafted into sewing on a button or painting set pieces. Production ramped up to its most intense: the entire cast and crew's work hours totaled more per week than those spent on school. In fact, all the Theatre instructors gave extensions to any student involved in the production. Help was needed for building the clockwork stage and extra costumes, so the same instructors also gave extra credit to any student willing to volunteer time to sew, paint, weld, or fetch necessities for actors rehearsing long hours.

Lizzy, Jane, and their respective beaux, possibly even more than the rest, buckled down and made art, waiting until, again, they could just be. Then there would be time to regroup and see to personal lives, relationships, and other priorities. Lizzy wouldn't say anything to anyone but secretly wondered if it would be done by Opening Night, much less by the First Run. It made her head pound to think about it and so she didn't, instead choosing to pour over her endless lists between her thousand projects. Lizzy and Jane knew their family found them to be wholly erratic in their attentions, as Theatre's schedule demanded it.

At least Bingley and Darcy had the same demands made on their schedules. Darcy had done this sort of thing enough to reassure any doubters that it would all get done. They were absorbed in completing every detail in preparation for that conclusion and had their own share of setbacks such as the time that one of the students sat on a delicate settee and it gave way into far too many pieces. Bingley was livid but managed to salvage it with the assistance of her girlfriend's antique restoration expert Uncle D. It had taken precious time out of Bingley's schedule but he was able to wrangle up extra help and figured out how to delegate tasks so he could focus on the most important pieces.

Darcy's wrinkle was running out of certain paints and not being able to find them in town. He would have been forced to make a run to Albuquerque but Caroline proved useful and she made the run with her new boyfriend. Apparently Mike was more conscientious than she, as they made the trip in record time, although both looked rather windblown.

Caroline enthused about what a daring driver he was. Darcy made some polite remark then shifted conversation, saying his thanks, took his paint and offered to buy the couple dinner. Caroline went into raptures about what an impressive meal she'd already had, looking positively predatory. Thankfully Darcy saw her look was aimed at her new boyfriend and not at himself. He didn't want to know anymore, simply stating, in that case, he would need to say his goodbyes unless they wanted to come in and see his work. While Mike indicated he was quite interested in the work, Caroline practically dragged him off.

Spare Bennet family members and friends were also glad to volunteer. Charles charmed Lydon into helping weld the clockwork proscenium and set. Aunt Phil and Uncle D shared their respective talents and resources with the costume and props departments, embellishing, loaning, restoring and the like. The Bennet ladies all had basic 4-H sewing and everyone came in one night to hem a couple of exceedingly long trains and to do the odd sewing job on various pieces.

Even Francesca came in to the costume shop, to Maeve's vast amusement. Having learned that her nemesis, Mercedes Lucas was volunteering her time in the props department, Francesca was not to be outdone. She mostly talked and passed out snacks, her hemming being generally taken over by other volunteers who happened to be in the room. Maeve took Lizzy aside and told her that she had earned her respect for having that woman as a mother. Lizzy was gratified to see that even Maeve could admit- in a roundabout way- that she was wrong. Such moments may have contained irritants but also made the endless whirlwind more bearable to Lizzy.

xox

The rest of the month leading up to opening night proceeded in a similar fashion with Lizzy and Jane spending any spare time with their men between working and school. It was not in their current reality for the Bennet sisters to think oddly of their relationships at this point. An erratic schedule hid many a relationship problem. Jane remained ensconced with Bingley at Netherfield. To outsiders, both were blissful, but inwardly, Jane struggled to come to terms with the multitude of changes in her life, in the midst of the busiest semester she'd had to date.

Even Charles had no idea what ponderings Jane's serene smile hid. He had expressed his pleasure at her company most fervently, and often. Jane knew that she had been happiest this past several weeks than she'd been in a long time. She wanted it to continue. Charles often made suggestions on how this could be accomplished and she listened, and planned, worried at the risk, but compelled to take it.

xox

Lizzy reverted to her usual schedule, bunking at Maya's when she was too busy to go back to The Farm. She and Darcy had an unspoken agreement to do no more than make out in stolen moments such as in the evening when they took the occasional dinner break together, both returning to their respective shops looking a little more rumpled than they had before the break.

Darcy often had that look in his eyes, afterward. Practicing being in the moment afforded her greater awareness in those exquisite interludes, and she knew she saw something, even if he didn't say it. It was that look he had when he told her she misunderstood. What was she misunderstanding? She tried not to presume anything. He looked injured, almost. Vulnerable. Haunted. She prodded, in that way that insecure people do, when they want a certain answer. He'd wipe that look off his face and resume his pleasurable activities, in attempt to wipe her memory of any lingering uncertainties.

If she thought about a future with him, Lizzy resolved not to be the first to speak of it, not when the production's continued well oiled machinery was at stake. Not when he kept trying to redirect her- and she loved the way he did that. They nearly went all the way a few times, when they recalled where they were- in the green room late at night, in the parking lot ensconced in his car, hiding in the rows of costumes- and it was inevitable that someone would make a noise and they would recall they were about to do the deed in the middle of everyone.

But still, she would remember those questions about their future and push them down. Certainly, if they were to disagree about the direction of their relationship, passions, already running high, would explode and things could very possibly grind to a halt. She didn't want to risk it.

During those weeks, Lizzy endeavored to do as her paramour suggested: to think- be- in the moment. It was true this practice created more of a sense of peace. She couldn't help but wonder if there was a price, though. Would this damming of her thoughts eventually cause a flood of emotion that would sweep her somewhere she didn't want to go? For the moment, every feeling had its outlet in finalizing designs, fittings, finishing costumes, and the like.

Darcy would sometimes watch her when he thought no one saw. He underestimated people, especially Maeve. Of course, she had been given a charge by Aphrodite and would not shirk on what role she played. But neither could she interfere. She saw the doubts on both sides, and knew they had to play themselves out. She was there to create, facilitate and enjoy the production. Well, that and keep her mentee sane.

xox

Sleeping less than 8 hours a night, working over 12 hour days for weeks on end caused Lizzy to become especially brittle, like when an actor exploded over the tight fit of his waistcoat, or the director let her know how much he hated the way a certain gown looked under the lights. After such incidents, she'd slip into the bathroom and allow the tears to flow, then splash cool water on her face and re apply her makeup. She'd return to work, put in something like Florence and the Machine or Kongos and it would energize her to keep going. And it was fun to watch Maeve groove out to the music.

Maeve's firm direction kept the shop- and her charge- on course, allowing Lizzy to work things through on her own while steering her in a productive direction. Lizzy just had to get through this time of little sleep, when she was eating, breathing, manifesting costumes. She looked forward to spending time how she pleased, imagining that time would also be free of any challenges to her ego or emotional state.

xox

While two Bennet sisters were occupied with theatre and the men therein, other Bennets had equally demanding projects to which they attended. For certain, the foray into a day or two volunteering at the Theatre was just that. They had little time to spare as the fall was the season when fairs wrapped up and recordbooks were finalized. Of course Francesca was a driving force of the Meryton Milkcows' yearbook accomplishment, as she insisted that she would not be outdone by their rival 4-H group due south, the Golden Geese, and her nemesis Mrs. Goulding.

The three younger Bennets were caught up in their mother's schemes as usual. Mr. Bennet had his ever present university studies, but could be prevailed upon to join the other Bennets in their dining room anytime that charming Wickham made dinner. He made dinner for the Bennet household rather frequently of late, and on those occasions Lydon was on his best behavior.

The Bennet household was suspiciously devoid of the usual Lydon-Edward arguments. If anyone noticed, no one said anything.

The pace has accelerated a little in keeping with the whirl of a big production. I hope it made sense, though!

If you have questions about how the Theatre production process works, I will be happy to give you more info. I hope it wasn't too confusing.

comments are so very welcome: please do!