Section I, Next Section
Here is my Americanized version of the late British author, Betty Neels', type of romance.
"Lydia my love," Mrs. Bennet trilled, waltzing into her daughter's bedroom unannounced, "you will never guess what Mrs. Lucas just told me on the phone!"
"What?" Lydia absently replied. She was painting her toenails and did not like to be distracted from something so important. "Someone has rented that big old house on Netherfield Drive!"
"So?"
"So, dearest, you know you always said you wanted to live there someday..." cajoled her mother.
"Did not. Said I'd like to meet someone with enough money to fix up a house like that. I hate that horrid old relic. It's old and pokey and when old lady Phillips had the place, it was rundown and tacky, too. And did I mention that it's old? Now go away, mom, and torture Lizzie or something. I have a date tonight and I only have six more hours to get ready. I'll need to run down to the boutique laster and see what I can find for the Meryton Country Club dance Saturday night. I haven't a thing to wear!"
Lizzie, walking in at that moment with a pile of fresh laundry, could only stop and stare. Lydia had so many clothes, they were running out of room to store them all, and the Bennets lived in a six-bedroom house.
"I wish dad were coming home soon," Lizzie thought as her stepmother left the room without acknowledging her existence. Lydia, too, ignored her as she put silk lingerie away neatly in a dresser drawer. "Maybe I could go to the club dance, then, instead of having to baby-sit the twins." Feeling somewhat like Cinderella, and knowing, sadly, that there were no such things as fairy godmothers, Lizzie went off to check on supper.
Lizzie, who had gained a stepmother and stepsister 10 years ago when her father, Dr. Tom Bennet, had married the former Frances Gardiner, was the eldest at 24, and as such had naturally expected to carry on some of the responsibility for a younger sibling. But Frances was indolent and selfish by nature, and Lydia was truly her mother's daughter. They were more than willing to let Lizzie carry on with the running of the house, with the help of several servants, of course. Frances enjoyed the prestige of being a doctor's wife, if none of the work involved, but at her husband's insistence, was on at least one nonprofit board. She had also produced a set of twins for her second husband, Meredith and Christopher, known as Merry and Kit, who were now 8.
When Lydia reached 18, she had received a large inheritance from her grandparents, and had parlayed her love of clothes into a chic little boutique. Having the financial independence to live elsewhere, because the shop was an immediate success (Frances had seen to that!), Lydia chose to live at home, where her creature comforts were tended to by someone else. She had the aforementioned piles of clothes, a sporty little Sebring convertible in the driveway, and men falling out of the sky to worship at her dainty little feet. Add to that the worship of her own mother, and Lydia was, in short, perfect. It was Lizzie's opinion that Lydia lived at home for the amusement of seeing her stepsister worked to the bone.
Poor Lizzie. While Lydia was allowed to do whatever she wished, Lizzie had been told by her stepmother to take a day care provider course so that she could stay home and care for the twins. Mrs. Bennet was much too busy, she had told her husband, to care for her own children, because of her nonprofit work, and said she did not need to pay for a nanny when Lizzie was perfectly able to work for room, board and a small pittance.
Her father had reluctantly agreed, especially after Lydia had slyly coached the twins into begging tearfully for Lizzie. Their eldest sister hadn't stood a chance after that little stunt. She probably didn't stand a chance of going to the club dance, either, she thought now with a sigh as she stirred up something for supper. Mrs. Bennet had also managed to get rid of their cook and housekeeper last year, remarking that Lizzie was too idle while the twins were in school. Besides, Lizzie had nothing to wear, either, and meant it. She doubted Lydia could be prevailed upon to lend one of her designer gowns.
But as luck would have it, Mrs. Bennet tripped in the driveway that evening as she was coming home from one of her charity meetings, and badly sprained her ankle. Lizzie, wishing she could say it would not have happened had her stepmother not insisted on wearing four-inch heels, was sent for ice and to call the doctor.
"My nerves are not up to waiting in the emergency room with the unwashed masses," she snapped when Lizzie suggested taking her to the hospital.
With that, Lizzie called one of her father's colleagues, only to be told by that man's answering service that he wasn't available. A Dr. Darcy, however, was on call, and after waiting a few minutes on hold, Lizzie was told he could attend Mrs. Bennet later that evening, after rounds at Meryton General. Her stepmother accepted the news with bad grace, and fussed at Lizzie for her incompetence for a good half hour, in between commands that Lydia attend her, which she didn't, and that the twins be fed and put to bed, which they were.
Two hours later, with Mrs. Bennet soothed somewhat with a succession of ice packs and martinis, the doorbell rang. Harried, as usual, Lizzie ignored the way her short brown curls seemed to stand on end and, somewhat ungraciously, answered the door.
"Yes?" Her manner was curt, but the giant man standing in the doorway took her somewhat by surprise. He was huge! And rather arrogant to boot, she wagered as he nodded coolly, announced himself as Dr. Darcy and strode into the spacious living room with two strides of incredibly long legs.
Lizzie watched him go past her with a look of shocked disbelief - the man had not even waited to be shown into the house - and hoped his big dark head full of crisply curling hair didn't clear the arched opening into the other room. No such luck, although the impossibly large man had to duck or risk injury.
Lizzie followed, unable to keep the frown from her forehead, and was furthered annoyed when the man turned back to her and looked her up and down. Not only was her hair in disarray, but she was clad in jeans and a plain white cotton shirt, and she looked like the hired help.
"What?" he asked coldly. "Oh, yes, my coat." Relieving himself of a long, black cashmere driving coat, he put it into Lizzie's hands and turned back to his patient.
"Yes, run along, Lizzie," Mrs. Bennet said sharply. "Don't let us keep you from your work." Lizzie caught a smirk from her stepmother before that woman settled herself in to be totally agreeable to the handsome doctor attending her ankle.
"Oh, and Lizzie, please ask Lydia to see me before she leaves. I know she will be concerned with anything the doctor might have to say."
Fuming, Lizzie returned to the foyer and half threw the doctor's coat on a wall hook. So, Lydia was to be introduced, and the doctor was to be made to believe Lizzie was the maid, was she?
She was halfway up the stairs before she brought herself up short. Wasn't she even worse than a maid? A maid kept regular hours, got paid a decent wage and even had space of her own. Lizzie was up and down the stairs day and night, rarely had any time to herself, and was paid less than a fast-food employee, who was at least entitled to benefits.
Lizzie had been relegated to a sleeper sofa in the den, because Frances insisted on keeping one of the bedrooms as exclusive property of her own parents, should they come to stay, which they never did, because they never left the state of Florida. The other bedroom, Lizzie's stepmother had told her husband, was to be available for other guests. Which left four bedrooms, and Lydia, Merry and Kit each had a room to themselves.
So why should Lydia be told of the doctor's arrival? She could hear the doorbell as well as Lizzie, and knew it had to be either the doctor or her date. On the other hand, Frances and Lydia were both vindictive souls, and would make her life even more hellish than it already was, if she didn't follow orders.
The doorbell rang once more, giving Lizzie the decision she needed.
"Your date is at the door," she said once Lydia answered her less-than-polite knock, "and your mother is with the doctor. You can either answer the door or go to the bathroom and clean up after Merry, who has been sick to her stomach."
Merry was as healthy as a horse, but Lydia neither knew, nor cared.
"Don't be so silly," she told Lizzie, and tripped down the stairs to answer the door. Not caring overly much about her mother, either, she shouted into the living room that she was headed out, giving lie to her mother's previous words to the doctor, and headed out the door. She never even saw the physician.
Lizzie, watching from the top of the stairs, exploded into laughter at that thought, and that was how Dr. Darcy found her, a moment later, as he prepared to take his leave.
Lizzie had neither the time nor the inclination to repair her hairstyle or change out of her work clothes, giving the doctor no reason to look at her once, let alone twice. But her blue eyes sparkled and he looked up the stairs in time to see her boldly stick her tongue out at him. His stare became icy and his face became a smooth mask.
"Mrs. Bennet needs ice packs every hour, and she must be kept still. Make her as comfortable as possible where she is, and I've given her a sedative. She may have one or two of these every four to six hours if she is in pain." He set a box of pain reliever samples on the hall table, took his coat off the hook and opened the door. "I don't see any signs of a break, but my nurse will call tomorrow to check on things." Then he was gone.
"Well!" was all Lizzie could think to say before her stepmother started whining from downstairs. "What a rude man!"
"But Mom," Lydia was whining this time, "I don't see why Lizzie has to go with me to the club dance... She needs to be here looking after the twins for you..."
"I know, my love," Mrs. Bennet said with a heavy sigh. "I tried to talk your father out of letting her go, but he insisted she take his place. My poor nerves!" Frances refused to frown - no need to hurry the aging process - but she was disgruntled all the same. She had hoped Dr. Bennet would be detained, so he would never know if Lizzie had gone to the dance or not, but he had arrived home on schedule, and took it for granted that both the older girls would be going to the dance.
When Frances had suggested Lizzie stay home and help with the twins, the doctor suggested Lydia stay home instead, or barring that suggestion, he stay and let the young people go and have a good time.
"I am a children's health specialist, after all," he had joked. "If I can't take care of my own children, who can?" Which his wife took to mean that she, their own mother, was a failure in the parent department. He hadn't meant that at all, but she was one, anyway. She was also mean and refused to ask Lydia for a dress for Lizzie.
So Lizzie took matters into her own hands. She quietly asked her father, who had sensible taste in clothing, to get her something new to wear.
That something proved to be a simple black crepe dress in a princess cut, a scoop neck, no sleeves and a hemline just above the knees. There was a simple gold rope chain and little sapphire earrings for jewelry. Dr. Bennet could not, for the life of him, recall Lizzie ever wearing jewelry, and a pretty gold bracelet completed the ensemble, as did a pair of black suede pumps.
Everything sat in a dress box under Dr. Bennet's bed for the remainder of the week, a place Lydia did not think to check when she scoured the house Saturday afternoon, looking for a sign of Lizzie's alleged finery. The twins had seen the jewelry, however, and kept trying to get Lydia to guess what it might be.
Lydia and her mother were further disgruntled when orders to cook dinner and bathe the children were countermanded by the doctor, and Lizzie was free to lock everyone out of the bathroom for a few minutes of peaceful preparation.
It didn't take long, however, to dry her short curls, put on what little makeup she used, some of it pilfered from Mrs. Bennet and Lydia, and put on her dress. It was a perfect fit, and the jewelry did not look too ostentatious, as Lydia's sometimes did, nor did it look out of place.
"You look wonderful, my dear," Mr. Bennet approved warmly when his daughter finally appeared downstairs. Lydia, as usual, was upstairs primping.
"Here are the keys to the Lexus," he added, giving the ring to Lizzie. Frances, from her vantage point on the living room sofa, her foot propped up expertly by her physician husband, started to sputter. Lydia, gliding into the room with what she hoped would be a grand entrance, stopped short at the sight of their father handing over the keys to his coveted vehicle.
"But...but..." she started to complain.
"And you have your own car, should you wish to drive yourself," her father replied. Everywhere he turned lately, he seemed to notice how overworked and underappreciated his darling Lizzie had been.
"Whatever," was all Lydia said with a shrug, and followed Lizzie into the foyer. She took her own fur jacket and dainty little beaded handbag from a hook near the door, and waited impatiently to see what Lizzie was going to put on for outerwear.
In that she was surprised, because the doctor conjured up a nice black wool car coat and a tiny silk purse. Lizzie wasted no time putting her license and scant cosmetics in the bag, and it wasn't until much later that she discovered the brand-new Visa Gold Card tucked into a slot in its small interior. At the time, however, she was distracted from all that - once outside the house, Lydia tried to wrestle the keys away from her. She would have succeeded, too, but Lizzie, having come this far, threatened to pull Lydia's perfect chignon out of its perfect shape, and Lydia meekly got in the passenger side of the car.
"You may have won the skirmish, Lizzie Bennet," she sneered as Lizzie backed the car out of the drive, "but the night - and the war - are not over yet."
The Meryton Country Club was brightly lit, and put Lizzie in a festive mood. Lydia, trying her best to dissuade her sister from having a good time, was still harping on how boring the club crowd could be, and how Lizzie was bound to have nothing in common with its members. Lizzie said nothing at all for the 10-minute drive, and pulled the Lexus up to the front-door valet in silence.
"I never meet anyone new, it's just the same old group of boring nobodies," Lydia grumbled. An admiring glance from the attendant helping her out of the car did not even warrant her notice, and she stalked inside in her red silk strapless, leaving her sister to collect her own belongings and surrender the car keys. She fought a sudden flash of nervousness, and walked slowly into the club, Lydia having already disappeared into the elegant dining room, where the evening meal was just about to be served.
Dr. Bennet had told Lizzie at which table she and Lydia would be seated, but she suddenly worried she might not know or even like her tablemates. Then she saw the large man standing as Lydia took an empty chair at table six, and frowned. From the back, that huge frame, very nicely filling in a tuxedo, reminded her of...
The man turned around, saw her approach, and grinned at her sudden discomfort.
"We meet again, Miss Bennet."
It was Dr. Darcy.
Lizzie had made it through a salad, beef Wellington and creme brulee without a single derogatory comment. She was quite proud of that fact, considering she was seated with Lydia, Dr. Darcy, and one Miss Caroline Bingley, whose date, Mr. George Wickham, fawned over Lydia the entire meal. Lizzie was also in danger of losing said meal every time Miss Bingley reached across Dr. Darcy and showed her ample cleavage to everyone at the table, especially the doctor. Lizzie liked to think she had better manners and had no need to resort to Caroline's "boarding house reach" to get what she wanted.
Not that she wanted Dr. Darcy. Caroline was welcome to him! After his initial greeting, the doctor had all but ignored Lizzie, and she was grateful. She missed the gleam in his hooded eyes, however, and interpreted his perfunctory manner as indifference. As soon as was polite, she escaped to the ladies' room.
Merciful heavens, but she was bored. All these years of only going to the club for Sunday brunch with the family, and she was sure she had been missing something. Little did she know...
Table talk had centered around the large house on Netherfield Drive, the one Caroline's brother, Charles, had rented while he and Dr. Darcy opened a new family practice nearby. Lydia, however, was not impressed, and tried to steer the conversation back to herself. However, Caroline wanted to talk about herself, as well, and it was apparent neither was interested in anything else. Mr. Wickham, to his credit, had tried to include Lizzie in the conversation, but once Lydia informed the table that her sister was little more than an unpaid servant - Lydia's word was doormat - everyone else ignored her.
It had been a relief, then, to finally hide in the ladies' room, she thought, making herself as inconspicuous as possible in the last stall. Her relief was short-lived.
"I must say, Dr. Darcy is a handsome one," she heard Lydia drawl. She didn't know Lydia was carefully checking beneath the stalls to make certain her sister was in there before opening her mouth.
"Isn't he?" Caroline replied. The way she drew out some of the syllables had Lizzie wondering if she were applying lipstick while she talked.
"He certainly was attentive at dinner," Lydia cooed. She was very attracted to Mr. Wickham, and here was a chance to divert the man's date.
"You think so?"
"Well, you don't think he was attracted to my sister, do you?" Lydia's laugh was brittle. "Did you hear what he said about her?"
"I don't believe I caught it," said Caroline, who didn't recall hearing Dr. Darcy say anything about Miss Bennet, but didn't want to admit that to Lydia.
" 'No looks to speak of,' he said, 'and no conversation. How dull.' But then he said you were in good looks tonight," Lydia told her companion. Of course, Dr. Darcy had said no such thing. If he had seemed to ignore Lizzie at dinner, he had even less to say to her sister, which had irritated Lydia no end. But if she played her cards right, Mr. Wickham would be escorting her home instead of Caroline, who would be hanging on Dr. Darcy like a leech. "But no one pays any attention to Lizzie, anyway," she added, "so I am not surprised by his deduction. Shall we return? I feel like dancing!"
The dancing portion of the evening was in full swing when Lizzie finally returned to her table. She hoped she had waited long enough for everyone to be on the floor, so she could quietly retrieve her coat and drive home. There was no one she cared to dance with, even though she kept telling herself that it was no big deal if Dr. Darcy thought she was dull.
But the table was not empty. Dr. Darcy sat alone, nursing a brandy and staring off at nothing in particular, although how Lizzie knew that, she could not say. Then she caught his attention and he stood up, his large size towering over her.
"Would you care to dance?" he asked, she was sure out of duty. After all, she was the only female at the table, and he the only man without a dance partner.
"No, thank you. Will you please tell Lydia I am leaving, and someone else will escort her home?" She picked up her bag and her coat, but two large hands made quick work of putting both back in her chair.
"I believe this is our dance, Miss Bennet," he said as the live orchestra segued into a slow piece. He didn't give Lizzie time to argue, only waltzed her out onto the floor, ignoring her indignant gasp.
Then, to the disgust of both Caroline and Lydia, the doctor kept Lizzie out on the dance floor for the next hour. Lydia quickly found another distraction in George Wickham, who began to ply the beautiful Miss Bennet with booze. He couldn't know it was a waste of time if he thought he was going to get lucky later - Lydia could not hold her liquor, which might have contributed to her popularity, except she always ended up paying homage to the Porcelain Queen before passing out. But Wickham didn't know that. Caroline, miffed at her date's defection, and that Darcy seemed to prefer the little Bennet girl to her sophisticated self, had taken George's valet ticket and drove herself home.
It wasn't until Lizzie returned to the table with the doctor that she realized the evening was turning sour again.
"Gone home with George," read a cocktail napkin note written in Lydia's red lipstick. "We took the Lexus."
"Oh, no!" Lizzie cried. She fumbled frantically in her little handbag for her valet ticket, only to find it missing. With a quiet little sob, she sat down at the table and stared at her bag. How in the world was she going to get home? What would her father say? She had forgotten about Dr. Darcy's presence until he heaved a great sigh.
"Please allow me to escort you home, Miss Bennet."
Lizzie looked up at the doctor, certain the sigh had been a resigned one, but his expression was inscrutable. Then a kind smile lit his face, and she nodded. They collected their belongings, and he led her out to the front of the club, where an alert valet was already bringing up the doctor's Mercedes.
The quick drive home was a quiet one, and Dr. Darcy did not linger when he had seen her to the door. But he gave a quick summary of the circumstances to a puzzled Dr. Bennet. Lizzie ignored her stepmother's entreaties and went upstairs to the forbidden Gardiner guest room, locked the door behind her, and went straight to bed. Frances could go hang herself! Her last conscious thought was that she needed to get away from her family, and she needed to do it soon.
Life became interesting the morning after the country club dance.
Lizzie went downstairs with the twins to find her stepmother crying in the living room, and her father chatting easily at the kitchen table - with Dr. Darcy!
"Yes, I think that will suit her nicely," Dr. Bennet was saying, "But let us put it to Lizzie first... ah, good morning, my dears!"
The twins were introduced to Dr. Darcy while Lizzie got out cereal, bowls and milk. She was pleased to see them using their company manners. Most mornings they argued about everything.
She had just poured them some cornflakes, then, when Dr. Darcy asked if he and she could speak privately for a moment.
"Go ahead, Lizzie," her father kindly urged when she hesitated. "I'll keep an eye on these two."
So Lizzie led the doctor into the hated den, where she bid to him be seated on the sofa. When she realized his large frame took up most of that area, however, she sat across from him on the recliner. Sitting too close to him made her nervous after she remembered the way he had held her on the dance floor the evening before.
"I have an aunt, Miss Bennet..."
"How very nice for you."
The doctor ignored her remark.
"...and she is in need of a companion. She is neither confused nor infirm, just old. However, my cousin, Anne, does not wish to be burdened with an elderly woman. Even though I have assured her that her mother is healthy, despite a weakened heart, she says that unless I find my aunt a companion, she is going to put her in a home."
"Commendable, sir, but I fail to see what that has to do with me. I have a job," she added somewhat bitterly.
"Perhaps. Still, your father has told me you could do with a change of scenery."
"Why would he tell you that?" she demanded.
"The job with my aunt," he continued, as if she hadn't spoken yet again, "would be live-in. She has a large home in Rosings, and her only other house-mates are a housekeeper, who will handle all the cooking and cleaning, and Mrs. Jenkinson's cat. You would have time to yourself every day, and would only be required to attend my aunt from after breakfast through supper, with several hours free even within that time frame. And your salary..." He named a sum almost quadruple the pittance given to her by her stepmother.
"But I couldn't... not for so few hours... so much money..."
"Ah, Miss Bennet. You have not yet met my Aunt Catherine."
"May I? Meet your aunt? I would like to see what I am getting myself in to... er, that is..."
"Naturally. If you have this afternoon free, my aunt would like you to join her for tea."
"So soon? But you don't know... how could you have already arranged..."
Lizzie felt like she had been run over by a bulldozer. A large one, by the name of...
"What is your first name?" she asked.
If he was taken aback by her abrupt change in conversation, he didn't show it.
"William," he said smoothly.
"Thank you. Yes, then, William, I will take tea with your aunt this afternoon."
"As you wish, Elizabeth. I will call for you at three. Dress casually."
"I don't have much of a choice," was the dry reply.
But there she was wrong. After Dr. Darcy's departure and the twins had been fed, Lizzie's father told his wife in no uncertain terms what he thought of Lydia's behavior. She had taken his car, leaving his darling Lizzie stranded, just to go off with some ne'er-o-well playboy. Why couldn't her daughter, who had the kindness of a pit viper, and the morals of an alley cat, be more like Lizzie? Now he and Lizzie had to track down this Wickham and bring home the Lexus. Lydia could find her own way home.
Lizzie, who was in the kitchen cleaning up after breakfast, could hear some of her father's tirade, and tried not to laugh. Thank goodness the twins were outside in the back yard, though. But then Dr. Bennet called for the children and Lizzie, and bundled them into the mini van usually allotted to Lizzie for carting around the kids and the groceries. He asked Lizzie to bring along the little purse he had given her the evening before and she was puzzled by his request, but complied.
The foursome set off in high spirits, leaving Frances alone, in a bad mood and unable to go anywhere on her ankle. She wasn't even near the phone when it rang later and fretted, certain it was Lydia and unable to help.
Actually, having been given a full report by Dr. Darcy, who had been given an earful earlier that morning by none other than Caroline Bingley, Dr. Bennet knew exactly where to go to retrieve his car. Then he showed Lizzie the credit card in her evening bag, handed her the car's spare keys and told her to go shopping.
"You can hardly go to tea with Darcy's aunt in jeans and a T-shirt," he kindly told her.
Taking the twins off with the promise of ice cream, Dr. Bennet left Lizzie to her own devices, and she headed for the nearest mall. She only had a couple of hours, but that should be long enough to get her a new sweater and skirt, and a nice pair of shoes. And why not some new underclothes and a purse as well, she told herself. After all, what had the doctor seen her in so far? A pair of jeans, a white shirt and dollar-store tennies with a hole worn through the top of one, and that little black dress.
Not, she told herself severely as she whipped out her card for a pretty brown leather purse, that she truly cared what the doctor thought of her wardrobe. It was his aunt who would be her prospective employer today, and she wanted to look her best for the interview.
And what an interview it turned out to be. The doctor was prompt, and after a few words with Lizzie's father and ignoring Frances almost completely, he ushered her out to the Mercedes sedan from the night before.
It was almost 10 miles to Rosings, and the doctor filled the time with idle chatter that said nothing and told her even less, but she was completely at ease until they arrived at a beautiful old Victorian mansion on the far side of the sleepy little town. Then he shattered her calm when he handed her out of the car. Appraising her thin rose-colored pullover and patterned skirt, which peeped out from underneath her black coat, he sucked in his breath and said "Beautiful." Lizzie didn't think he was referring to the clothes. But he said nothing else as he escorted her up to the deep, wrap-around porch and the front door. Still, it was enough to put her on edge. What had he meant?
He never said, and Lizzie was afraid to ask. That stoic mask of his had dropped into place once more as a smiling housekeeper answered the door and ushered them inside.
"Mrs. Jenkinson, this is Miss Elizabeth Bennet, come to have tea with Aunt Catherine today. Elizabeth, Mrs. Jenkinson is housekeeper for my aunt."
"She's in the back parlor," they were told as they were relieved of their coats, and Lizzie was grateful for the modern warmth of the house after the autumn chill of outside. Her skirt was almost too gauzy for the season, but she had liked the way it swirled about her, and its floral pattern complemented the rosy pink of the sweater. Had she looked in a mirror, she would have seen the rosy pink reflected in her cheeks, flushed with the excitement of the outing, the prospect of a new job, and the doctor's indecipherable compliment.
So it was a pretty package full of sparkle she presented to the elderly Mrs. de Bourgh a few moments later as she was ushered into a sunny parlor filled with antiques and a huge marmalade cat, draped across an overstuffed chair like a large orange antimacassar. Lizzie stifled a laugh when the doctor took that chair and the cat, recognizing someone familiar, brought himself down to the large lap and resettled on the doctor's expensive Italian suit.
"Collins always did like William best," Mrs. de Bourgh confided as she poured out tea. "Perhaps because William is the one who rescued him one rainy night from the alley behind the hospital. Anne has always been allergic to cats. but she has put up with Collins because of William, I suppose..."
The old lady rambled on, about the doctor, her daughter, Anne, who was an attorney in New York, and about her home, which had been in her husband's family for generations. Not one word was mentioned about a job, but Lizzie supposed it to be a touchy subject and steered clear of it as well. Mrs. de Bourgh was kind enough, Lizzie surmised, but figured her to be a regular Tartar when crossed. Still, that would be easier to handle than Frances and Lydia, especially when her father, who was well-known in the pediatrics field, did so much traveling. It was no wonder he hadn't seemed to notice how much more browbeaten she had become in the past few years - even she had hardly recognized it happening!
Well, no longer, and if it meant being browbeaten somewhat by Mrs. de Bourgh instead of her family, so be it. At least the pay was higher and the benefits a great improvement.
So it was with great relief that Dr. Darcy's only words as he escorted her home were, "You have the job, if you wish."
A month later, Lizzie wished she could take back her acceptance.
Mrs. de Bourgh was a challenge, in that she had an opinion on everything, from what Mrs. Jenkinson served for breakfast to what Lizzie should be doing in her spare time, but at least she was no idle Frances. And she was extremely forgetful, and Lizzie was run off her feet trying to remember where that lady put her glasses, her crossword puzzle and her portable phone. But she wasn't deliberately mean, like certain members of Lizzie's own family.
The real fly in the ointment had to be Anne de Bourgh.
Lizzie, who had been surrounded most of her life by women who gave the gender a bad name, seemed to meet the ultimate witch in her employer's daughter.
Used to partaking of Mrs. Jenkinson's excellent teas every afternoon - Mrs. de Bourgh was an Anglophile of the first order - she came to resent the condescending way Anne shut her out on the one visit she had made to Rosings in the past month.
"I don't eat with the hired help," she had told Lizzie in a low voice, even while she was telling her mother in a completely different tone that Miss Bennet wished to run a few errands while her employer was otherwise occupied.
Retreating to the kitchen in that instance, she found Mrs. Jenkinson in a bad mood, too. "Miss Anne says she's takin' Mrs. de Bourgh out for dinner, and me already having a meal in the oven. Waltzing up here without a by-your-leave, and expecting me to drop everything to accommodate her high-and-mightiness"!
Lizzie beat a hasty retreat to the front of the house, only to run into the brick wall that was Dr. William Darcy. Literally. She was on her way out the front door just as he had opened it to enter, and she found herself rammed into his rock solid chest.
Her "Oh!" was muffled against his cashmere coat and she felt his six-foot, five-inch frame rumble in amusement. "Excuse me! I didn't..."
"You didn't what?" The doctor had Lizzie by the shoulders and was bending down to look in her eyes.
"I didn't...I..." Why was she so tongue-tied when it came to this man?
"William!" Anne cooed from the parlor door. "What a wonderful surprise!"
The tall, slim blonde sashayed out to air kiss her cousin, but when he would have backed off, she snagged his wrist with one beautifully manicured hand and led him down the hall, ignoring Lizzie the entire time.
Lizzie, however, didn't even notice the doctor's defection, because a sudden thought had occurred to her. Staggering somewhat with the realization, she sat down on the stairs with a hard thump.
When had she managed to fall in love with Dr. Darcy? And now that she had such knowledge, what was she going to do about it? About him?
For the moment, she thought, seeing red as she heard Anne de Bourgh's rough cackle and the doctor's answering deep laugh, she wasn't going to do a thing!
She was confused, then, looking out of her bedroom window an hour later, when she saw the doctor leave, because Mrs. de Bourgh and her daughter were coming up the stairs.
Unable to stop herself, Lizzie found herself at her door, which she had left slightly ajar.
"I don't know why William couldn't go out with us," Anne was saying peevishly. "Even a doctor has to eat. I'm always so suspicious when his beeper goes off in the middle of our conversations. He does it all the time!"
Whatever Mrs. de Bourgh's reply, it was muffled as she went into her own bedroom, her daughter hot on her heels. Anne was still complaining about her cousin's lack of attention and his precipitate departure. Even Lizzie was suspicious of his desertion until, a half hour after the de Bourghs had left the house, he returned, this time with guests.
"Merry! Kit!" Lizzie was almost in tears as she watched the twins flying out of the doctor's sedan to rush into her arms. "I've missed you so much!"
Lizzie had not realized until that moment how much like a mother she had become to her younger siblings. True, there were times she had been homesick, even for her family, but now it hit her - she missed her "children."
A warm surge of appreciation for the doctor's thoughtfulness flowed through her, and her smile, laced with tears over the tops of the twins' heads, was brilliant.
"I thought we could all go out to dinner," the doctor said.
"Yeah!" Kit cried. Merry, still wrapped around Lizzie's neck, only nodded.
"We missed you, Lizzie," she whispered. "Daddy is never home, Mommy and Lydia ignore us, and our new nanny is mean!"
"Yeah - mean!" echoed Kit. "But Dr. Darcy says we can page him anytime we really, really need to see you."
"Dr. Darcy is very kind," Lizzie agreed. She looked at him then, and although she did not realize it - and would have been mortified if she knew - all the love she had for this amazing man came shining through.
"Can we go to McDonald's?" Merry asked. She was tugging on the doctor's sleeve, and he averted his gaze from Lizzie's with seeming reluctance.
"We never go to McDonald's anymore," Kit complained.
"McDonald's it is, then," the doctor agreed. Over the twins' heads, the two adults grimaced at each other, and then burst into laughter.
Dr. Darcy suddenly became a frequent guest at his aunt's home. Lizzie told herself it was because he wanted to keep an eye on his aunt's health, but deep down, she secretly hoped it was to see her. Unfortunately, she knew Anne de Bourgh's sudden and frequent visits had everything to do with her. And with the good doctor.
It seemed every time Anne saw Dr. Darcy, she was throwing herself at him, which seemed kind of incestuous to Lizzie - they were first cousins, after all. And Anne always seemed to be watching Lizzie out of the corner of her eye, even as she flirted with her cousin. Lizzie did not know why until one evening, when Anne had suggested, for the twentieth time, that Lizzie was only the hired help and did not need to eat in the dining room with her employer, especially when family was present, that Lizzie had had enough. Her stomach turned against the leg of lamb Mrs. Jenkinson had so expertly prepared, and she excused herself in the middle of the meal and left the room.
Anne caught up with her in the front hall as Lizzie began climbing the stairs to her room.
"I've seen you watching William," Anne said in a taunting manner.
"You wished to say something important, Miss de Bourgh?"
"I've seen you watching me and William, too."
Lizzie remained silent. What could she say?
"We're not really cousins, you know."
"Really?" Lizzie was interested despite herself.
"I'm adopted. I've known all my life, just as I've known all my life that William and I are expected to marry."
"I see," Lizzie replied. And she did see. All these times it seemed like coincidence, Dr. Darcy and Miss de Bourgh showing up here at the same time, only they were using it as a chance to see each other. The knowledge tore through her heart, but then, when had other women not been inflicting her with pain?
"Anne," Dr. Darcy said sternly from behind his cousin. "I think you've said enough."
"Oh, William!" Anne gushed as she turned and threw herself at her cousin. "I had to tell the poor girl everything! One can see she -"
"Yes," was all Dr. Darcy calmly replied. "Perhaps an early bedtime would not be remiss, Elizabeth," he urged, and Lizzie nodded and bolted up the stairs.
She didn't cry - she had given that up years ago - but she was depressed as she brushed her teeth and pulled on warm flannel pajamas. She expected to stay awake, brooding about the doctor, but he sent Mrs. Jenkinson up with a glass of warm milk. When the housekeeper said it was the doctor's orders, she promptly drank it all and slept like a baby for several hours.
She didn't know what had woken her up later - an odd dream, perhaps, or a noise. Whatever it was, she was unable to go back to sleep. Her bedside clock read 2:12 and she sighed. Perhaps if she went downstairs to find a book, something boring, so she would go right back to sleep...
Throwing a thick robe over her flannel jammies and slipping her sock-clad feet into slippers, she padded out into the hall. Then she saw the light under Mrs. de Bourgh's door, and a faint sound caught her attention.
"Mrs. de Bourgh? Oh!" Collins the cat had come upstairs, and was rubbing himself against her leg.
"You scared me, Mr. Kitty." Collins purred and then tried to butt open Mrs. de Bourgh's bedroom door. When it wouldn't budge, he gave a loud meow and looked up at Lizzie. "Aren't you going to help?" he seemed to say.
Lizzie shrugged. She had taken orders from humans for years, so why not listen now to a cat? Knocking timidly, she received no answer. Knocking a little louder received the same response, so Lizzie went in, only to find her employer on the floor next to the bed, her heart medicine half poured out on to the carpet.
"Oh, no!" Lizzie rushed to the phone sitting on Mrs. de Bourgh's beside table, and called 911. After having assured herself help was on the way, she woke Mrs. Jenkinson and posted her at the front door. Then she sat down at Mrs. de Bourgh's library desk and flipped through her employer's address book until she found Dr. Darcy's home number.
"Hello," he said smoothly when the phone was picked up on the second ring. Lizzie could only marvel that someone could be so awake at that hour - unless he had been on call somewhere and had never gone to bed?
"My caller i.d. says this is the de Bourgh residence calling. Aunt Catherine? Mrs. Jenkinson? Elizabeth?"
"William!" Lizzie's voice was breathy with fear - and something else - as she gasped his name. "Your aunt has collapsed. I've called 911 and an ambulance is on its way."
"I'll meet you at the hospital." The line went dead, but Lizzie's fear vanished at once. Dr. Darcy was in control and that was good enough for her.
She was even more relieved when the paramedics arrived and took Mrs. de Bourgh and Lizzie to the emergency room, where calm, competent Dr. Darcy, looking amazingly fresh in an unwrinkled suit, and her employer's cardiologist, Dr. Hurst, awaited. Dr. Hurst took Mrs. de Bourgh off, and Dr. Darcy gave a Lizzie a quick hug, one that threatened to engulf her completely, physically and emotionally. He didn't say a word at that point, only led her into the waiting room and sat her down on a hard plastic sofa.
"You need some coffee. I'll check on Aunt Catherine and bring you some." He looked down at her, brushed one long finger across her cheek, and smiled. "Brave, beautiful Lizzie." Then he was gone.
Lizzie's sleep-deprived brain reminded her that he was a man of few words, but what words those had been! He had called her brave and beautiful! She told herself to snap out of it - he was all but promised to Anne! She could only sigh and put her head on the arm of the waiting room couch. She was coming off an adrenaline high, and felt completely exhausted. Her last thought before curling up on the hard sofa was that she ought to stay awake long enough to get a progress report on Mrs. de Bourgh...
The doctor returned twenty minutes later with a cup of strong coffee to find Lizzie sleeping like a child. Trying not to wake her, he set down the cup and lifted her gently into his arms, carrying her out to his Mercedes, parked just outside the emergency room doors. She roused briefly when he buckled her into her seat, but his quiet "shhhhh!" calmed her back to sleep.
He was grinning by the time they arrived at his partner's home. Lizzie was snoring quietly, her head lolling to the left so that she was almost, but not quite, laying on the doctor's broad shoulder.
This time, he woke her as he unbuckled her safety belt, and she was muzzy-headed as he led into the foyer of a large old home - she vaguely recognized it as the old Phillips estate on Netherfield Drive. Then she was tenderly carried upstairs by the doctor to a room that barely registered, led by a sweet-faced blond who whispered quietly with the doctor while Lizzie slipped back into the arms of Morpheus.
A small, high-pitched voice was giggling, rousing Lizzie from a deep sleep. She couldn't think what might be so amusing to whatever little elf was making all the racket, but she was aware of one thing. Something heavy, possibly the giggling sprite, was sitting on her chest, playing with her hair and touching her face.
At first she thought it was Collins, but then she remembered she had been taken to the old Phillips house. Did they have a cat? One that giggled?
She opened her eyes a crack just in time to see a little boy, about 2 years old with an angelic face, blue eyes and blond curls, peering back intently. Then he promptly stuck one little finger up her left nostril and she sat straight up in bed.
"Aaron!" An extremely pregnant blonde, followed by a small, dark-haired girl carrying a tray, waddled into the room. She advanced on the little boy as fast as she could, but he was faster, and scrambled off Lizzie's chest and out of the room before anyone could blink.
"Naughty little imp!" the blonde exclaimed to no one in particular, but she was smiling so brightly, Lizzie could only smile in return.
"Now sit up," the woman instructed, motioning to the little girl to advance with the tray. "Will said you were to have breakfast in bed, and his word is law, so we brought you some toast and coffee. I'm Jane Bingley and my husband, Charles, is Will's medical partner, but you knew that already, didn't you?" Without waiting for a reply, Jane fussed over Lizzie's pillows as well as her protruding stomach would allow, and then settled the tray on Lizzie's lap.
"This is our eldest, Madeline," Jane added, drawing the child into the circle of her arm. "She's four." Except for the dark hair, she was a carbon copy of her pretty mother. "Go see where your brother ran off to, please, Maddy," she asked the little girl. "Aaron, your wake-up call, is two," she told Lizzie. "And then Thumper here," and she patted her belly, "will make three. I think I'll stop there."
"They are lovely. But won't you sit down?" Lizzie offered, attracted to the sweet, friendly nature of her hostess.
"I'd love to, but once I'm down, it's a pain to get up. Take your time with breakfast, and since you basically arrived with only the clothes on your back, Will has brought you a suitcase full of things."
"He has?" Lizzie squeaked, and sat up straighter. The thought of Dr. Darcy going through her wardrobe brought a blush to her cheeks. Jane looked at her in surprise, and then with something akin to delight.
"Why, yes. If you are worried about him pawing through your lingerie, though, don't be. He said he had the housekeeper pack your bag."
Lizzie settled down in relief. "And Mrs. de Bourgh?"
"Is in intensive care. But Will said he would call you if there was any change. In the meantime, you are to be our guest."
"Kitty! Kitty!" Young Aaron squealed, chasing a large ginger cat down the hall.
"Is that..."
"We're to keep Collins as well," Jane dryly added. "The housekeeper said Mrs. de Bourgh's daughter doesn't want him in the house while she's there."
Lizzie nodded. Collins was better off being harassed by a two-year-old than that nasty Anne de Bourgh.
"So eat up," Jane was saying. "May I call you Elizabeth? And won't you call me Jane?"
"No one calls me Elizabeth, except for Dr. Darcy," Lizzie explained. "Please call me Lizzie."
"Lizzie it is!" With a last sunny smile, Jane waddled out of the room, closing the door behind her. Lizzie could hear her calling for her children, and telling them not to disturb Miss Lizzie.
Lizzie lay back among the fluffy pillows and sighed with contentment. The coffee was hot, the toast warm and buttered, and she felt like a queen. It was possible she would not have a job to go back to, but she wasn't going to worry about that now. she would enjoy Bingley family hospitality for a few days, and then start looking around for a new job. Or maybe she could apply for financial aid somewhere and go to college! She would love to get a teaching degree.
The world, which had seemed upside down last night, now seemed rife with possibilities. Even if there was no future with the doctor, at least she had a future.
"Charles and Will have been partners for several years now," Jane told her later over lunch. Lizzie had spent the morning entertaining the Bingley children, and even at the noon meal was giving a hand. "But tell me, Lizzie - you must be something special to our Will, or you wouldn't be here. Not that he has said anything about you until now, but that's close-mouthed Darcy for you. He's never done for anyone like he's done for you. I thought for a while he was interested in... never mind. I'll just get these little ones down for a nap."
Lizzie was wiping Spaghettios from Aaron's dimpled little chin. "I'd love to help," she offered. "Before I was Mrs. de Bourgh's companion, I was in charge of my younger brother and sister. They are 8-year-old twins. I really miss them."
"You must bring them over to play sometime," was Jane's generous reply. "With a house and yard as large as this, we have so few neighbors, and none of them seem to have children."
"I think we can arrange something," said a familiar deep voice from the kitchen doorway.
"Unca Will! Unca Will!" the children cried. Maddy scrambled from her chair and threw herself at the large man. Aaron was jumping up and down in his booster seat, waving his food-laden spoon in the air, and it was all Lizzie could do to keep him there while she chased after his hand.
The doctor, with a twinkle in his eyes and Maddy under one arm, grabbed the spoon out of Aaron's hand and offered it to Lizzie with a flourish. She blushed and bent to finish cleaning Aaron's face and hands. "Little ones keeping you busy?" he asked of Jane, who chuckled in reply.
"They have a new playmate now!" She nodded in Lizzie's direction.
"Lucky children," the doctor said enigmatically.
"Miss Lizzie knows lots of stories," Maddy told the doctor. She was still being held tight under one of the doctor's arms, and he was bending down to pick up Aaron in the other.
"Is that so? As many as I do? Let's go see, shall we?" The doctor swooped out the room with the children, and Lizzie and Jane shared smiles as they heard them thundering up the stairs.
"He's so good with children. Has he met your brother and sister?" The two began to clear off the kitchen table.
Lizzie thought about his offer to bring the children to her whenever they wanted. "Hmpf! He gave them his pager number."
Jane, as a doctor's wife, knew the power of the pager and gasped. "No! How amazing!" She gazed at Lizzie with something akin to wonder.
Twenty minutes later, just as the two women had finished tidying the kitchen, the doctor returned.
"Your imps are asleep. Maybe they will stay that way for a few minutes."
"I doubt it, but thank you, Will. I could use a nap myself."
"Good idea. While you are resting, I'll take Elizabeth out for a drive." He turned to Lizzie and smiled. "I thought you might like to retrieve the rest of your belongings from my aunt's house."
"How is she doing?" Jane asked while Lizzie ran to get her purse.
"Her condition has stabilized, but she's going to have to be put in a nursing facility for awhile."
"And Lizzie is out of another job," Jane said sadly.
"Oh, I think something or other will turn up," Dr. Darcy replied. "It always does."
Lizzie couldn't believe her good fortune. First, she had ended up in a real family surrounded by a lovely woman and her adorable children, and then the doctor had arrived to whisk her off for a few hours, unromantic as the trip really was. Then, at the de Bourgh home, Anne was nowhere around, and Mrs. Jenkinson offered to give them afternoon tea, after which Lizzie packed her remaining belongings. Back with the Bingleys, where she was finally introduced to Jane's husband, a tall, dark-haired man with a ready smile, Lizzie was more than pleased when Dr. Darcy accepted an invitation to supper.
"We will eat early, so that you two can go back to the hospital for evening rounds," Jane told them, and then she and Lizzie put their heads together to concoct a menu that might please everyone. They came up with a thick meatloaf for the men; rich, homemade macaroni and cheese for the kids, and a big bowl of steamed fresh broccoli to satisfy their need for something green.
"So your children do have company manners," Dr. Darcy noted at one point during the meal, when the two children politely requested more macaroni, and had finished all their broccoli without complaint.
"Must be the company," Dr. Bingley said with a quick wink in Lizzie's direction.
"Well, I've never seen them act so nicely when I come to visit."
"Must be the company," Lizzie saucily replied, and the four adults laughed. The two little ones looked at each other and shrugged. Just then, Collins came strolling into the room within Aaron's view. He shrieked with delight.
"Kitty! Kitty!"
"Thanks for the cat, Will," Jane moaned.
Dr. Darcy had explained earlier to Lizzie that his aunt was going into a nursing home, and that she was to stay at the Bingleys as long as needed. She supposed the cat had been accorded the same clemency.
"My pleasure." Declining coffee, the doctors left together for the hospital. "I'll bring Charles home and give my report on Aunt Catherine then," Dr. Darcy promised on his way out the door.
"The prognosis is not good," Lizzie was telling Jane the next morning at breakfast. "Dr. Darcy said his aunt is not expected to live - her heart is just too weak." Jane had gone to bed early the previous evening, and only Lizzie stayed up to offer coffee to the doctors when they returned from the hospital.
"Poor thing! Oh - next week is Thanksgiving," Jane said suddenly. "Will used to go to his aunt's house for the day, but he doesn't want the housekeeper to go to any trouble for just him and his cousin, so he told his cousin to stay in New York and gave the housekeeper the day off."
"Oh?" Lizzie tried to look disinterested, and failed miserably. Jane chuckled.
"He has begged to come here instead. Will you celebrate with your family? You are more than welcome to be here - I'll admit with Thumper here, getting in the way," she rubbed her tummy, "I could use the help."
"I'm rather persona non grata right now with some of my family," Lizzie said sadly. She thought of how she missed making the twins' Halloween costumes this year, and how they had always had fun making Thanksgiving table decorations, even if Frances and Lydia had always declared them "tacky." And soon it would be Christmas! She didn't know Jane had been watching her intently.
"Those children are like your own, aren't they?"
Lizzie nodded. "We used to make turkeys out of pine cones, and little paper Pilgrims and Indians."
"I'll bet they never had store-bought Halloween costumes, either."
"Never! Until this year, anyway," Lizzie amended. "And for Christmas we used to do a ton of baking."
Jane leaned over and patted Lizzie's hand. "Maddy and Aaron would love to make pine cone turkeys and paper people," she told her.
"Thank you."
The phone rang, and Lizzie waved a rising Jane back into her seat and picked up the receiver.
"Yes? Good morning, doctor. Merry and Kit? Let me ask Jane. Is it OK if my brother and sister come to play for a couple of hours tomorrow?"
"Of course!" Jane was all smiles. "Maddy is in need of a friend or two."
"Ten o'clock? Thank you."
"Someone paged the good doctor, did they?" Jane asked when Lizzie was off the phone.
"Sounds like it to me. They must be unhappy, the little darlings."
They were very unhappy. The twins couldn't even wait until they were in the door that next morning to tell Lizzie that their parents were getting a divorce.
"It's going to be perfect!" Jane exclaimed as Lizzie bent over to baste the turkey. "We'll send the kids out to play while we cook, or they can catch the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade on TV. After dinner, we'll bed down the kiddies, the men can watch football, and we can chat."
"While we clean up," Lizzie dryly added, but there was a smile on her face. "Such is our lot, I suppose."
"I can't believe your dad is getting a divorce, but I'm glad he and the twins are coming for dinner. Now it will be more like a family event for you all. I love the turkeys the kids made the other day when Merry and Kit were here to play. They're just perfect!"
An hour later, Dr. Bennet and the twins arrived, and soon the yard was filled with the sounds of shrieking children. The only thing marring Jane's "perfect" day was the arrival of Dr. Darcy, and because he was so late, she began to fret.
"What if he had an accident?"
Lizzie settled her down at the kitchen table and offered to make a cup of herbal tea. "All this worry can't be good for the baby."
"But the turkey!" Jane wailed.
"The turkey will keep," Lizzie assured her. "I'll get Dad to go ahead and carve it, and then we'll cover it with plastic wrap so it won't dry out. Now, let's see - the cranberry relish and gravy are on the table, the pies and the chocolate cake are on standby, and the casseroles are covered. All set!"
"OK."
Lizzie went to retrieve her father for carving duty. She didn't want to alarm Jane further, but she was worried, too, about the doctor. Maybe he backed out at the last minute because of her family? They seemed to have become an increasingly burdensome crew, she had to admit. Was it too overwhelming, even for a man who seemed to tackle the world with ease?
Then she heard a car motor, and the children were shouting and calling the doctor's name. Somewhere between Saturday morning and today, the twins had earned permission to call him Will, which had amazed Lizzie to no end. She always called him Dr. Darcy, or sir, although she doubted he would object if she called him William. She'd only dared to once, the morning after the country club dance, when he had appeared so approachable. Since then she had been rather in awe of him. She wondered if he even noticed; he kept such a tight rein on his emotions.
Now this huge enigma was coming in the kitchen door, Aaron on his shoulders, and Maddy and Merry hanging on to his arms. Kit led the way with a grin, his hair standing straight up from being tousled.
"Well, it's about time!" Jane demanded. "Where have you been? Why didn't you call? We've been so worried!"
"Both of you?" he queried. Jane nodded, but Lizzie only blushed. "I had to go to the hospital."
Jane quieted right down and told the children to take off their coats and go wash their hands. "You, too!" she ordered Dr. Darcy. "Lunch in five minutes!"
"Yes, mother," the doctor replied, and trooped from the room with the children.
"Turkey's ready," Dr. Bennet called from the kitchen counter, where he had been carving.
Lizzie helped Jane up from her chair, and the three of them carried food into the dining room. The two ladies had spent an hour decorating the table earlier that day, using Jane's favorite china, sparkling crystal and an heirloom table cloth. Crowning this sartorial splendor was a gaggle of pine cone turkeys bedecked in construction paper feathers and glitter, and placemats showing the children's interpretations of the first Thanksgiving. All in all, the perfect setting for a family event.
Just as they walked into the dining room, there was the sound of breaking china and Collins streaked across the table, a large volcano having been eaten into the mashed potatoes.
"Oh, no!" Jane moaned.
In his haste, the cat had also managed to knock over the gravy boat, and the gravy was seeping into the heirloom tablecloth. Cloth napkins, meticulously folded, were scattered everywhere, and the cat was rolling around on one of Jane's china plates, a pine cone turkey caught in one paw. Glitter flew everywhere as the cat tried to break free from the pine cone gobbler.
The little girls, Kit and Charles all came running in to see the spectacle. Jane moaned again and sat down in a chair.
"My dishes! My food! My tablecloth!"
Dr. Darcy arrived on the scene and burst out laughing, which startled Lizzie, who had never heard him do more than chuckle. She rather liked his booming laugh. Dr. Darcy quickly stacked some of the dishes out of the way before grabbing the offending pine cone in one hand, the cat in the other, and deftly maneuvering the cone so it wasn't caught on a claw. Dropping both separately to the floor, he bent down to retrieve the turkey decoration as the cat raced out of the room. Jane was still seated with a mortified look on her face, but Lizzie and the other two doctors were laughing so hard, they were holding their sides.
Everyone but Jane laughed even harder when Aaron chose that moment to come trailing into the room, chocolate frosting all over his face and hands. So much for dessert!
"I'll reset the table," Lizzie managed to gasp, but Jane held up one hand.
"That won't be necessary."
"Well, I supposed I can always set the kitchen table with paper plates, and we can serve the rest of the food from the kitchen counters."
"Yes," Jane said weakly. "The children should be fed. I'll be at the hospital. Charles, my water just broke!"
Charles and Dr. Bennet got Jane bundled into the car, and headed for the hospital. Lizzie was still somewhat in shock and didn't notice Dr. Darcy had washed up Aaron and had organized the other children in the kitchen. She sat in the dining room until the doctor handed her a small glass of brandy.
"Here, drink this," he ordered. "All of it."
Numbly, she drank it all, and then gasped as the fiery liquid blazed down her throat and into her stomach.
"Come. Lunch is ready."
"It is?"
"In the kitchen." He helped her to her feet and propelled her into the other room, where four quiet children sat patiently at the table, their paper plates filled with food. Two places had empty plates at them, waiting for Lizzie and the doctor.
"Feel better? I'll admit that the first time or two a woman goes into labor right in front of you, it can come as a surprise. Now let's eat up," he told the children, and they dove into their food and conversation with cheerful abandon.
"Aaron, kindly do not stuff that whole fistful of turkey into your mouth at once!" the doctor admonished at one point. Lizzie tried not to laugh, but failed miserably, and the older children giggled.
The rest of the meal continued without incident and when Kit, Merry and Maddy were finished, they helped clear the kitchen table and then bundled back into their coats.
"I'll put Aaron down for a nap," the doctor offered, indicating the little boy, who was nodding off in his booster chair. "When I get back, I'll help with the dishes."
"Yes, sir!" Lizzie smartly saluted and headed for the dining room. By the time the doctor returned and the children had come inside, rosy-cheeked from the cold, Lizzie had cleared the dining room of all signs of the earlier debacle.
She let the kids watch a quiet movie on TV, and when she returned to the kitchen, it was to Dr. Darcy wearing one of Jane's frilly aprons, up to his elbows in soap suds.
He turned at the sound of her footsteps, and grinned. "Why don't you rinse, and we'll both dry?"
They were almost finished when the phone rang. Lizzie answered on the second ring, and was surprised to hear her father tell her that Jane had experienced a quick delivery and the little girl, Grace Elizabeth, was a healthy seven pounds, two ounces.
"It's a girl," Lizzie told Dr. Darcy, and he smiled. "Mom and baby are doing fine." She turned back to the phone. "OK, Dad. No problem, and the twins will be thrilled. Bye. The twins are spending the night here," she told Dr. Darcy. "Jane and Charles thought Maddy might like the company. Dad is going to bring over some of their clothes in awhile."
"Good. Speaking of your father, did he say anything to you about temporary custody of the twins? Not yet? I hope he doesn't mind if I jump the gun. Your stepmother doesn't want the children - a good thing in my opinion. But your father has two conferences in Europe next month, and another couple in January. He thought the children would be better off with you."
"Me? But where will I keep them? I supposed I can move back home, but even with Frances gone, there is still Lydia..."
"I understand Lydia is no longer welcome there, either. You could move home, but might I suggest something else?" The doctor had moved closer and closer to Lizzie as he talked, but as she was concentrating on the conversation, she didn't notice until he took one of her hands and engulfed it into one of his own.
"Oh!" His hand was warm, and Lizzie was very aware of his nearness.
"I don't think you will be happy without the children, Elizabeth, but they are going to need a stable home. I suggest that we marry - a marriage of convenience, for your future security as well as theirs - and make a home for the children. Your father would be able to sell his house, which seems to be more in contention in this divorce than the children, and live with us. There is a guest house on my property that he would be welcome to, and there is plenty of room in the house for you and the twins. I know there is a 10-year age difference between us, but I don't think that will be a problem."
"But..."
"A marriage should be based on friendship and trust, should it not? And we are friends, that much is true?" Lizzie nodded. "I find romantic love somewhat overrated, but even that may come with time..."
"It's not that..."
"Think about it, won't you? I find that you are exactly what I need in a wife - efficient and industrious. I won't pressure you today, there's enough going on, isn't there? Come on, we've got a slumber party and a baby's homecoming to arrange!"
In shock for the second time that day, Lizzie stood rooted to the kitchen floor while the doctor brushed past her to check on the children. her brain could only register one thought - Dr. Darcy had just proposed!
True to his word, Dr. Darcy did not pressure Elizabeth for an answer. After a successful slumber party - Charles came home at midnight with the making of s'mores for the delighted children, and Dr. Darcy left then - he arrived back early the next morning and took Lizzie, Maddy and Meredith to the hospital to see Jane and baby Grace. He then took the "ladies" out to lunch, and shopping, suffering the smiles (and admiring stares) of the shop attendants as he allowed Lizzie and the girls to cut a swath through an exclusive baby boutique.
After a stop for ice cream, where Dr. Darcy insisted the girls choose treats to take home for their brothers, Lizzie was certain that children and the doctor were a good combination. Her only lingering worry was that the doctor did not love her as she did him, and it would not be fair to enter into marriage with him unless there was an out for him. Suppose he met someone else and fell in love? Suppose she did? She stared off into a corner of the ice cream parlor, unaware of the thoughts flittering across her expressive face.
"I suggest you let me worry about that when the time comes, Elizabeth," the doctor gravely told her. She gasped. Surely the man wasn't a mind reader?
If the girls noticed something odd about the adults' conversation, or lack thereof, they gave no indication, but began to chat about the presents they had chosen. Neither Lizzie nor the doctor brought the topic up again that day.
The next few days went by in a blur. Dr. Bingley was working overtime so that he could be home with his family for a couple of weeks, and Lizzie was earning her keep, watching Maddy and Aaron and getting the house ready for Jane and the baby. She was going to be even busier when they arrived; she and Dr. Bingley had discussed the possibility of sibling jealousy, and Jane had agreed to let Lizzie take over helping with the baby so that she could spend more time with her older children.
Another week passed, and with Charles taking paternity leave, the three adults spent their time catering to three small children. Most of the physical chores fell to Lizzie by default, and although she didn't mind, she had forgotten just how much laundry babies generated, and she was exhausted.
So she was embarrassed and anxious that next Saturday morning as she cooked breakfast, wearing a ragged old sweatsuit, when Dr. Darcy dropped by. Looking handsome in soft old khakis and a polo shirt under a thick Aran sweater, she couldn't help but compare their appearances.
He didn't seem to notice as he sat down at the kitchen table, dwarfing Maddy and Aaron as they wolfed down their cereal.
"Just in time!" he declared. "Slow down, Maddy girl - those cartoons aren't going anywhere, are they?"
He ate scrambled eggs and bacon with Jane and Charles and waited for Lizzie to clean the kitchen before asking her if she would walk him to his car. "For some reason, I have a larger caseload this week, and I need to catch up on the paperwork," he joked to the Bingleys.
Lizzie reluctantly obliged, and grabbed her coat from a hook by the kitchen door. It was cold outside, and she shivered slightly. To her surprise, the doctor put an arm about her slim shoulders.
"You've been working to hard. I should like to take you out to dinner tonight. Wear something dressy. We won't be going to the country club," he assured her before she could even ask. "I'll be here at 7:30, shall I?" Without waiting for a reply, he got in his car and drove away.
"Well! Of all the high-handed...oh my gosh - I need to go shopping!" She silently thanked her father for the credit card, and the Bingleys for paying her for her help. "And get my hair cut!" She raced back to the house to be met at the kitchen door by Jane.
"You and Will are being rather secretive," she prompted. Lizzie gave her a rather goofy grin.
"We're going out to dinner tonight."
"Splendid! You've been working much too hard! What are you going to wear? My clothes are much too short for you, but I'll lend you the car to go shopping..."
At 7:30 p.m., Lizzie was pressed and dressed, her short curls trimmed, her nails manicured and her toenails polished. Her dress was black velvet, revealing without being immodest, with a low, draped back and a short skirt showing off shapely legs. Jane wolf-whistled as Lizzie entered the family room, where the Bingleys were gathered around a children's board game.
"Looking good, Liz." Charles gave her a quick wink, even as Jane swatted him on the shoulder.
"Hey," she said with a mock growl. "Eyes off Will's property!"
"But I'm not..." Lizzie was interrupted when the front doorbell rang.
So Dr. Darcy was going to do this formally tonight, was he? she wondered as Charles hastened to answer the door.
"Well, if you're not, you should be!" Jane whispered as she brushed past Lizzie to greet Dr. Darcy. She stopped and backed up. "And don't let anyone else tell you that he's not your property, either! Will!" she sang as she allowed the doctor to pull her up into an affectionate hug.
"Don't let her say no!" Jane hissed in his ear.
"No to what?" he whispered back with an amused rumble.
"To anything!"
"Gotcha."
"So, where are you two young people headed tonight?" Jane, sounding like a parent, wondered.
"Out," Dr. Darcy replied.
"I know that, Will - where out?"
"Jane, darling, leave them alone," Charles admonished. "And when do you expect to be home?" he grilled his business partner. "Liz has been working too hard and she needs some rest."
Jane, however, hugged Dr. Darcy once more and ran for Lizzie's coat.
"Don't let him bully you!" she ordered Lizzie as she gave her a quick squeeze. "He's notoriously bossy!"
"I heard that," Dr. Darcy told her. He helped Lizzie on with her coat, and propelled her out the door before Jane could say anything else.
"Am I bossy?" he asked as they walked to his Mercedes.
"Somewhat."
"But..."
"But kind to children and animals."
"Just kind?"
"You do like to order people to suit yourself," she admitted. He popped her into the passenger side of the car, went around to get in, and the two spent a few moments buckling safety belts.
"Are you saying I'm a bully?" he wondered as they pulled out onto Netherfield Drive.
"No, I'm just saying you have a way of taking care of people, sometimes without regard to what they might wish. You are, sir, a bulldozer."
"William," he told her. "Call me William. Or Will. If we are to be married, I should like to be called by my first name."
"William, you are a bulldozer," she repeated with a laugh. After that, she forgot her nervousness, and when he pulled into the parking lot of a little country inn, she was pleasantly surprised.
"The Twin Oaks! I've always wanted to eat here!" she exclaimed.
"It's very nice," he admitted. "But that is not exactly why I brought you to this particular place."
Knowing the establishment to have lodgings as well as food, Lizzie eyed him rather suspiciously.
"No," he admitted with a laugh when he caught her expression. "It's nothing like that." He helped her out of the car and up the walkway to the charming inn. "You see..."
"Will!" A tall, willowy blonde who somewhat resembled Anne de Bourgh came flying out from behind the front desk, and threw herself at the doctor. "No one told me you were coming tonight!"
"It's a surprise, Georgie. I told Richard not to tell you."
"A wonderful surprise! And who is this?" she asked, peering around the doctor's shoulder.
Lizzie thought, jealously, that she could ask the same of the pretty blonde.
"Elizabeth, I would like you to meet my sister, Georgiana Darcy. Georgie, this is Elizabeth Bennet."
"You're Elizabeth?" Georgia squealed. She threw herself around Lizzie's neck and gave her a tight squeeze. "I'm so glad to meet you at last! Jane has told me all about you! We must have a good chat sometime, so I can get to know you better! You know all about me, of course!"
Hadn't Lizzie heard a similar line from Jane? And why had Jane never mentioned the doctor's sister? Someone, somewhere, had some explaining to do. Lizzie thought that someone might be the close-mouthed, bulldozing doctor. As if he had read her mind once more, he pulled his sister off Lizzie's neck.
"The chat can wait, little sis. Right now we'll need your best table and a couple of drinks."
"Oh, of course!" Georgie put herself into action, pulling a menu off the front desk and calling for someone named Richard from a little office off to the rear. "Richard is our cousin, a retired Army colonel," she told Lizzie as she escorted them to a table overlooking a lighted garden. "He and I are business partners. I'll send him over to be introduced. What are you drinking this evening?"
Lizzie asked for club soda, and the doctor requested champagne. Georgie raised an eyebrow at his choice, but she whipped away to see to their order. A tall, distinguished looking man in a white shirt and black pants, with long hair pulled back in a ponytail, brought the soda and champagne, and introduced himself directly to Lizzie as Richard Fitzwilliam.
"Haven't seen Will around lately," he told her, "but now I know why." He proceeded to flirt with his cousin's dinner date, but Lizzie could tell he was doing it to annoy the doctor, and she didn't take him seriously at all.
The doctor, however, was visibly irritated. "If you are finished trying to pick up my friend, Richard, we'd like to order. Shall I?" he asked Lizzie. Knowing that Bulldozer Will was going to get his own way, she only nodded, and she and Richard exchanged knowing smiles. It didn't surprise her that he treated everyone exactly the same way; it did please her to finally understand he had always dealt with her as if she were part of his family. A warm glow spread through her heart, and she turned her dazzling smile on the doctor, who was so surprised, he forgot what he was about to order. They sat there, staring at each other, when Richard cleared his throat.
"Two specials it is," he murmured, and without writing anything down, went off to the kitchen. The doctor and Lizzie were still staring at each other.
It was Georgie who brought their food to the table: salads of baby greens with a vinaigrette dressing, Cornish game hens with wild rice, glazed carrots and hot cornbread muffins, and for dessert, a smooth, creamy coconut custard.
The doctor appeared to be on the point of asking Lizzie for her decision at several points during the meal, but each time he opened his mouth, either Georgie or Richard would return with food or a question, so the conversation remained general.
Lizzie was surprised later not only to have finished everything on her plate, but that she and the doctor were the only diners left in the room. "You are going to have to roll me out of here," Lizzie told Georgie as the doctor's sister refilled coffee cups. "I ate too much of everything! My compliments to the chef."
"Why, thank you!" Georgie beamed. "If you want to adjourn to the sitting room, I have a variety of liqueurs to choose from, and you may bring your coffee with you. I left Richard cleaning the kitchen, so I have a little time to..."
Dr. Darcy's pager went off and he noted the phone number with a raised eyebrow that reminded Lizzie of his sister. "I'm being paged by the twins," he told Lizzie.
"Maybe I should call them back." Lizzie asked for a phone, and was escorted into Georgie's little office. She was gone for quite a while, and the doctor, who had moved into the sitting room, was just about to go looking for her when Georgie returned, saying he was needed upstairs.
"Elizabeth made her call, turned white as a sheet and almost passed out. I took her up to one of the rooms, but you might want to call back whomever paged you, and find out what is going on. I'm going to take Elizabeth a little nip of brandy and put her to bed."
The doctor nodded and called the Bennet house, to be told by someone, who identified herself as the nanny, that Mr. Bennet had been in a car accident, was badly injured and was in surgery at St. Anthony's. He could hear screaming in the background, and was astonished when the nanny said it was Mrs. Bennet. She had moved back into the house as soon as she heard about the accident, and the twins were upset, because they didn't want her there.
Dr. Darcy thanked the nanny for the information, retrieved his medical bag from the car, and then went upstairs to check on Elizabeth. She was trembling from shock, and although the brandy had put a little color in her cheeks, he didn't want her moved. "I'm going to give you a little something to help you rest, Elizabeth," he told her in a calm, soothing rumble, even as he prepared a syringe, and she nodded.
"My dad...the twins..." she whispered, staring at the ceiling.
"I will take care of everything," he assured her warmly.
"I know."