Eliza

Eliza, Pride and Prejudice Fanfiction

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ElizaBy Genette

Beginning,

Posted on Wednesday, 11 August 1999

Once upon a time there was a lonely and awkward young girl who lived with her parents above the garage of a beautiful palace. Though her mother was a silly woman, the girl's father was well-read and very kind. He loved the girl very much.

In the palace lived a very wealthy family. The older prince was very serious and very successful in business. With unfailing instincts and unceasing hard work, the older prince took the family business from a mere multi-million dollar enterprise to a multi-billion dollar enterprise. Darcy Larabee had made Pemberley Incorporated into one of the world's pre-eminent business empires.

The younger prince seemed perfect in the eyes of the awkward young girl and she loved him as no other. And many had loved the younger prince! He was handsome and witty and fashionable. His picture appeared in all the tabloids and all the magazines. The girl purchased every one that she could find and then cut out all of the pictures of the young prince. His smiling face covered an entire wall of her bedroom. His smile was the first thing she thought of upon waking up, the last thing she thought of on going to sleep, and the main feature of her feverish young awkward girl dreams.

From her perch in the tree at the edge of the beautifully-decorated lawn, Eliza Bennet leaned a bit more to the left so that she could see George Larabee dip the lissome redhead he was dancing with and look down into her eyes with passionate regard. They were dancing to the song "Unforgettable." Eliza had noticed that "Unforgettable" was George's favorite seduction song of late, having watched him dip at least twenty different beauties at the same moment during family parties held over the summer.

"Would you accompany me to the solarium?" Eliza imagined she heard George whisper in the girl's ear. As the girl smiled and clung to George, Eliza imagined herself in that beauty's place. George laughed at something that the girl said. Eliza tried to imagine what could be witty enough to make George laugh so charmingly. She sighed as the beautiful pair moved to the edge of the dance floor.

The redhead stopped and spoke to several people. George smiled at everyone in a charming manner and made his way to the bar. At his glance, Hurst the bartender quickly handed over a bottle of fine champagne and two champagne flutes. George put the flutes in the back pockets of his tuxedo trousers, where they were concealed from sight by the tails of his jacket. He stopped and spoke charmingly to the redhead's rather unsuspecting father. Then George adjourned to the solarium to make love to his latest conquest.

Eliza crept after the pair. She assumed another familiar watching position, between the crepe myrtle and the window of the solarium. Eliza fancied that this viewpoint provided her with an unparalleled view of the pair in the solarium and complete privacy from other prying eyes. She was half-right.

As he turned off the light to his office and ushered his very important guests back out to the party, Darcy Larabee remembered that he had left his cell phone on his desk. He did not bother turning on the light again. Darcy just stepped into the darkened room and retrieved his phone as his eyes adjusted to the dark. At that moment he glanced out the window and saw Eliza standing on tiptoe between the crepe myrtle and the solarium window.

Darcy grinned to himself as he guessed what Eliza was watching. Who was it this time? Athletic and magnificent Gabrielle? The svelte and patrician Anna? The stunning redheaded Mary? Darcy shook his head. He could juggle a thousand and one tasks at once and run an awesomely successful business practically single handedly, but even he couldn't keep track of his step-brother's conquests. He thought that perhaps his brother had no more success in keeping them all straight. He also thought that perhaps the only person who could keep track of George Larabee's many lady friends was their chauffeur's daughter Eliza.

As Darcy left the office a mischievous smile tugged at his usually unsmiling lips. Instead of returning to his guests via the shorter and more practical route, Darcy went out the side door and cut across the lawn past the solarium. As he passed the crepe myrtle he casually said, "Good evening, Eliza." The crepe myrtle rustled in alarm. Darcy stopped in the pathway and looked at it expectantly.

Eventually, from the crepe myrtle a quavery reply was heard, "Good evening, Mr. Larabee."

Part II

Posted on Thursday, 12 August 1999

Still blushing and muttering to herself after the incident at the solarium, Eliza Bennet softly turned the door handle of her family apartment. As she entered, her mother breezed through the room, shouting as she went, "Eliza, girl! Where have you been? You're not half ready for your trip. Gracious! How are you ever going to survive on your own in Paris?" Mrs. Bennet always fluttered nervously about as she talked.

Eliza stiffened and blanched at this attack but did not respond. She just looked at the floor. Her father looked up from his book and said calmly, "Eliza will be fine in Paris. Just fine." As his wife left the room to continue packing, Thomas Bennet looked at his beloved daughter's miserable expression. He continued, "There, there, Eliza. Don't be so silly. You will love Paris and it will be wonderful for you. You must learn that there is more to the world than mooning after George Larabee!" This said, Thomas returned to his reading.

Eliza swallowed hard. Tomorrow morning she would leave for Paris. Tomorrow! Much as she'd tried to forget that the time was coming, it was here. Tomorrow morning she would leave for an entire school term. Her father had begged the Larabee's aunt, Kate DeBourgh, to secure Eliza a position with a fashion magazine office and he had somehow scraped together the money to send his daughter to a school in Paris. Over and over Eliza had begged him to reconsider, but Thomas Bennet was determined that his daughter be away from George Larabee.

Without another word, Eliza went into her room. As her mother mussed and fussed over her luggage, Eliza sat on the bed and stared at the pictures of George that graced the walls. He was so beautiful! So perfect! There couldn't be anyone else like him in the world! She thought that it was completely and utterly unfair that she should be sent away from him just as she was getting old enough to have her chance. Now he would forget that she existed! Her eyes locked on his eyes in her favorite photo of him. A small voice in her head wondered if he had ever noticed her existence in the first place, but her giddy heart would not listen. It suddenly became paramount to her that she have the chance to tell him good-bye.

Some moments later, Eliza lay with her covers tucked up about her shoulders. Her father opened the door to her room and came over to the bed. He lovingly smoothed her dark, unruly hair and said, "It will be all right dearest. You will have a wonderful time in Paris. I almost envy you the opportunity."

In a tear-choked voice Eliza replied, "You may take my place if you like, Papa."

Thomas laughed gently and said, "No, thank you, sweet Eliza. Good night." He kissed her forehead and went to the door.

Quietly, Eliza said, "Papa?" He turned and looked at her with a half-smile. She looked at him with eyes full of love and used the phrase of affection they'd shared since she was a very little girl, "It's mutual."

Thomas' smile deepened. He replied, "Yes, Eliza. It is mutual." Then he left the room.

When the noises of the garage apartment had settled down to their normal nighttime level, Eliza threw the covers off. Still fully dressed, it only took her a moment to grab up her shoes and scurry to her bedroom window. Just beyond Eliza's window was a wonderfully climbable tree. She found it a bit easier to use it to get into her window than out, but determination to say farewell to her beloved overcame any fears she might have of the height. She made the slight jump to the first limb easily, leaving her window open for convenient reentry. Then she scurried down the tree nimbly. With a cautious look about her, Eliza made her way carefully to the Larabee mansion.

Inside the house, Darcy Larabee experienced a familiar pang of annoyance. He couldn't seem to stay at the mansion without having his clothes disappear. Once again, George had rifled through Darcy's closet and taken ties and shirts at random. George had more clothes than most super models, but he never seemed to want to wear the same thing twice. So, it was a habit of his to just take whatever was newest and nicest from his brother's closet. Darcy knew that George would not be awake in the morning to yell at, so he decided to go and warn his step-brother to stop this practice of thievery or suffer the consequences.

Still clad in his bath towel after a post-party refreshing shower, Darcy stalked angrily down the hallway and into George's room. He threw the door open and stepped in to yell at... no one. Darcy sighed as he realized that George had not yet returned from driving his date home, or wherever. Annoyed further, Darcy opened the massive closet (a separate room for the vast amounts of clothing, really) and stepped in to look for his purloined garments. He sighed as he looked about the opulent closet and began his search.

He heard someone enter the room. A soft and feminine voice called out quietly, "George?" Darcy started to move to the door and reveal his identity. Two things happened then. His towel slipped and made him conscious of his state of undress, and the feminine voice continued, "George. Please don't say anything. I'm going away. I wanted to tell you that I will be coming back though and that I'll never forget you. I think you are the most wonderful man in the world and I've loved you since I can remember."

The words all came out in a rush of breath. Dizzy from what she'd just said, Eliza paused for a moment, lowered her head and closed her eyes. She was surprised that George did not reply immediately. In her mind she imagined that he would say he could not live without her and that he was coming to Paris with her. Then, she imagined that he would step out and ask her who she was. She teetered on the brink of suspense until finally she heard a tentative footfall. Heart pounding, palms sweating, Eliza forced herself to open her eyes and look up a breathtakingly naked and fabulous chest into the face of.... the face of... Darcy Larabee?

With a start, Eliza jumped back and screamed in confused horror all in the same instant. Darcy stood before her, naked but for a tightly clutched towel about his waist. He smiled awkwardly. Eliza opened her mouth again to try and say something, but couldn't even draw breath. She thought she might faint. Then she imagined having to explain what she was doing in George Larabee's bedroom with his nearly naked, yet still frightening and imposing older brother. Her face suffused red.

Completely befuddled, Eliza turned and ran out of the room and away. As her footsteps pounded loudly on the elegant carpet she dimly heard Darcy Larabee call after her, "Have a nice time!"

Part 3

Posted on Saturday, 21 August 1999

The next day Eliza arrived at Orly airport in Paris, France. She successfully found and claimed her luggage, fumbled a bit at first, but finally showed her passport to the correct official without an international incident and then went in search of a cab to take her to 13 Rue du Sport. She would live there for the next several months.

The Paris air was filled with strange sounds and smells. Did everyone here smoke? Eliza had never even seen so many smokers! The bustle of people was nearly overwhelming. It seemed as though every country of the world was represented in the crowd at Orly. Looking about her, Eliza saw nothing that seemed familiar. The signs made no sense. The voice over the paging system spoke rapid and incomprehensible French. She put one hand to her rabbit-speed heartbeat and closed her eyes for a second. When she opened them she noticed a newsstand. On the newsstand was a copy of 'Time' magazine with Darcy Larabee on the cover. Though she'd always found Darcy unnerving, his photo reminded her that she was still in the same world. She looked at the determination in his expression, breathed deeply to calm down, and searched for a cab.

Finally, she found a cab. As she rode along, she looked at the buildings and the many people along the roads. The architecture was unfamiliar and the people too. Staring at the money in her hand, Eliza struggled to make sense of the coins and bills. The cab stopped before what looked to Eliza to be a condominium. On arrival she decided on an amount to give the driver. After he opened the trunk of the cab she handed him the currency. He looked down at the money, back up into her face and spun on his heel, angrily muttering words that seemed to be curses. (From the limited amount of prim and proper French she'd learned in classes, she could only guess at the meaning of his words!) Eliza was barely able to retrieve her bags from the trunk before the cab roared off, trunk slamming shut from the force of its great speed. Embarrassed, she reddened, shrugged and turned to go up the steps of 13 Rue du Sport.

The door flew open. Inside the door a round little man shouted, "Mademoiselle Eliza! Vous etes ici! Merveilleux! Bienvenue!" He held a picture of her in his sweaty little hand. He threw his arms about her and placed a distinctly garlicky smelling kiss on each of her cheeks. Two little poodles leapt up and down in the entryway behind the man, barking nonstop.

Eliza stuttered, "M...M.. Monsieur Lucas?" The little man bobbed his head enthusiastically. His face was very red and not at all handsome, but M. Lucas and all of his friendliness seemed beautiful to Eliza in that moment. She smiled wearily and followed the little man as he took all of her luggage from her. She nearly tripped over the two dogs as they happily followed their master. He led Eliza up two very narrow flights of stairs and into a tiny little room. There he dropped her bags and began to talk.

Monsieur Lucas chattered to Eliza in a friendly, overblown manner. She began to wonder if it mattered that she didn't understand half of what he said, so continuous was the flow of his words. He opened the window at the back of the room and she found herself looking out over a sea of red rooftops. Across a road not far away, there was a café and a wonderful smelling boulangerie. Immediately below was a garden patio that was filled with beautiful flowers. A little round lady waved up to them from working with the flowers and chattered out a greeting that Eliza could not understand. Feeling more and more like an idiot each moment, Eliza simply smiled and nodded to everything that was said. After a bit more chatter, Monsieur Lucas turned to leave.

The little man quieted momentarily and studied Eliza's expression. Her sensation of being an idiot grew. She blushed. He spoke a one word question, "Mangez?" Then he looked at her hopefully to see if she understood.

Though dazed, Eliza smiled in relief as she recognized that he was asking if she wanted to eat. She nodded and managed to choke out an affirmative reply, "Oui!"

Monsieur Lucas smiled and nodded his head. Eliza suddenly felt like a happy idiot. Monsieur Lucas pointed to the clock and made a motion indicating the passage of one hour. He said, "Six heures. Nous mangons, n'est-ce pas?"

In Eliza's head the words shifted about and became "Six o'clock. We eat, right?" She nodded and replied, "Oui, monsieur."

Monsieur Lucas smiled, laughed and chased the dogs, Caramel and M'Amour, from the room. He closed the door firmly behind him and Eliza heard the clattering and banging as he and the dogs went down the stairs. Monsieur Lucas continued talking to the dogs the whole way.

She sighed and sat down on the bed. It was very low and not very big. It was against one wall of the little room. The other wall had a little writing table next to the window, a shelf of books, and an armoire. Eliza unpacked her clothes into the armoire and managed to squeeze her suitcase under the bed. Then she pulled out the few books she'd packed and set them on the desk. From between the pages of one book she carefully pulled out her favorite picture of George Larabee.

She held the page in her hand and sat back down on the bed. She looked down at the photo into George's eyes. His smile was so beautiful! She fought back tears and moved to a bulletin board over the writing table. She carefully pinned up the picture and longingly ran a finger over George's face. Again she looked into his eyes and wished he were there looking back at her, really seeing her, finally understanding that they were meant for one another.

Part 4

To impress a beautiful model at the party, George Larabee spoke up when the host's little daughter came in shrieking about the wound in her foot. It appeared that the girl had stepped on a nail while playing in the guest house that was under renovation. Her mother said, "How can I get her out to the hospital?"

George spoke loudly, "I was the last to arrive. My car is the easiest to get to. Let me drive you to the hospital." He smiled dazzlingly at the model and saw that she looked very impressed. The model moved towards him and smiled.

George was sure that he looked very dashing carrying the sick child out and whisking her off. The only problems with the scenario were 1) that his Aston-Martin only had two seats and the girl's mother insisted on coming along (no room to invite the model along for the ride), and 2) that there was a danger the child would get blood all over his car. George gave the mother his $400 jacket to wrap around the child's foot. He thought it looked selfless to do so, and it protected his car at the same time. He would just buy a new jacket.

Though this was all very inconvenient, George figured he could race mother and child to the hospital and rush back to the party to assure the others that all would be well. Then he could learn the model's name and become the new love of her life. It would be impressive, indeed! He couldn't wait to get the model into his bed later that night.

Then he saw the doctor.

George Larabee looked into Jane Tyson's beautiful, gentle eyes and felt as though his heart would burst. She had deep blue eyes, blond hair and a calm, classic beauty that took his breath away. Dr. Jane Tyson was the most beautiful woman he'd ever met. It was immediately apparent that she was also the smartest. He had no illusion of deserving her attention, a novel sensation to George. He merely enjoyed the odd circumstance of fate that had introduced them and tried to make the most of it.

The next day, George was getting ready to go to the club. He whistled happily as he remembered the previous evening. Jane Tyson utterly amazed him. For some unfathomable reason she had agreed to have dinner with him after she finished at the hospital. He'd waited until 1:00 am and taken her out for a light supper. She was funny and charming and she'd agreed to see him again. He hadn't even kissed her yet, but he was head over heels in love.

He saw Darcy and Aunt Kate coming out to the car. Bennet held the door open for them and looked a bit surprised as George whisked by, whistling and waving his tennis racquet about and greeting Bennet in a very friendly way. George said, "Isn't it a gorgeous day?" Bennet merely nodded.

Darcy looked amused and impatient all at the same time. Kate kissed George's cheek in her imperious way and said, "In love again, George? That's nice. Just be careful this time. Don't get sued again. I'm still angry about that alleged love child, you know. It just isn't done! Safe sex, George. Safe sex."

George blushed beet red and said, "Yes, Kate." Kate kissed George's cheek and got into the limo.

Darcy said, "You do remember what work is, don't you, George?"

Impetuously George said, "I'm going to bring someone to dinner here."

Darcy continued, "It's that thing you do where you make decisions and create things and earn money."

George continued, "She's beautiful, Darcy!"

Darcy continued, "There are people who would love to have a job like yours, George."

George continued, "She's smart."

Darcy continued, "Our company is called Pemberley. Your office is on the 22nd floor."

George looked at Darcy.

Darcy sighed and said, "Smart? That hasn't come up before."

George said, "She's a doctor, Darcy. And she's perfect. She says you know her folks. Her name is Jane Tyson." Darcy's head jerked back as George went on, "I'm going to ask her to come here for dinner next weekend."

Darcy asked eagerly, "Tyson? Patrick Tyson? Tyson Electronics?"

George shrugged. He said, "She's really something, an angel! I've never met anyone like her. And she likes me! It's like I'm being given a chance a guy like me never gets... a chance to be with someone truly good. I want you to help me with her, Darcy. Tell her how great I am. Say good things about me. Emphasize my... qualities." Darcy looked stunned. George looked rueful and said, "OK. Lie to her!"

Darcy nodded. He was forcibly struck by the humility Jane Tyson had inspired in his stepbrother. And the wheels in his head were turning in regards to Tyson Electronics. They were the makers of the incredible display screen he'd been shown by a board member during the family's most recent party. Darcy reached out and clapped George's shoulder, saying, "I'll do whatever it takes, George."

George was taken aback by the fervent gleam in his stepbrother's eyes. He wasn't sure of its meaning. Uncomfortably he changed the subject, "When did you guys start working on Sunday, anyway?"

Darcy sighed and pulled back his hand, "It's Wednesday, George. Wednesday."

George's eyes widened in surprise. "It is?"

Darcy shook his head in amazement and got into the car. As Bennet pulled away, Darcy watched his brother leap into his sporty little car. Darcy opened up his laptop and pulled out his cell phone. He called his secretary, "Mrs. Reynolds? Pull up your file on Patrick Tyson. Does he have a daughter named Jane? He does? Thank you."

Looking at the screen of the computer, Darcy quickly called up the latest numbers on Tyson Electronics. Kate queried, "Nephew?"

Darcy's fingers flew over the keys. He said, "George is dating Patrick Tyson's daughter. Sounds like he could fall in love with her." Darcy called his broker. "Begin buying Tyson stock. Keep it quiet and spread around through different accounts. I don't want anyone to catch on." He hung up and continued sifting through the data on his computer.

Kate said, "What makes you think George could fall in love?"

Darcy replied, "She's got George talking humbly. Never seen anything like it, Kate." He tugged at his bow tie thoughtfully.

Kate nodded and said, "Well, I certainly hope she doesn't look like her father."

Eyes on the data on Tyson Electronics, Darcy replied, "He's looking pretty good from where I sit, Kate."

Part 5

Eliza was very busy. Between her classes and her work, she had very little time to sit in her little room and think. Every morning she blew a kiss to George's picture as she prepared for the day. Every evening she blew a kiss to George's picture as she fell to sleep.

She was exhausted for the first two weeks. It was so difficult to understand people that she made a mess of nearly everything she touched, it seemed. At school, her pronunciation of any word with the letter "R" in it horrified everyone to no end. In current events class, her inability to keep up with the speedy radio news reports they listened to at the beginning of each session left her miserable. In cooking class, Eliza managed to present the chef with the flattest excuse for a soufflé that he'd ever laid eyes on.

She wrote home to tell her father that she was as miserable as she'd known she would be, and asked how George was doing. "Had George said anything about her being gone?" Her father's reply left her feeling as flat as her soufflé.

Work was incredibly challenging. At the magazine she was assigned to assist a woman, Madame Caroline, who managed the set up of all photo location shoots. Madame Caroline was extremely good at her job (she knew fashion better than most anyone) and she was an all-out terror to work for. Madame Charlotte, the one executive who spoke good English and would spare Eliza time, explained, "I torture Martine. Martine tortures Caroline. Caroline tortures you. Someday you may have someone to torture of your very own. All will be fine." Eliza smiled weakly in reply.

As she again chose the wrong accessory in reply to Caroline's latest screamed instructions, Eliza sighed. The photographer, Louis Fitzwilliam, smiled patiently and tossed Eliza the correct item. She took it and blushed as she saw that his smile was really directed at her. Eliza tended to the models, disbelieving their perfect appearance, and tried her best to do what was screamed at her. Always, though, she was conscious of Louis Fitzwilliam.

Still, she was surprised one day to hear him say, "Have a drink with me?" She looked around to see which of the ladies he was talking to. She saw no one within earshot but herself. At her incredulous look, Louis smiled. He said, "S'il vous plait?" Numbly, Eliza nodded and agreed. She felt torn, as though she were being unfaithful to George, but pushed her misgivings away. Louis Fitzwilliam was a world-renowned photographer... and a cute guy. He was here. He wanted to have a drink with her. George was halfway across the world and was probably dancing to the song, "Unforgettable" with a beautiful woman in the yard of his mansion.

To her surprise, Eliza had a wonderful time. Louis was charming and funny. He took her out for drinks and told her funny stories he made up about the people around them. He made her feel like she was pretty and funny and not at all an idiot. He took her to clubs and taught her dances she'd watched a million times from up in a tree. He taught her to see the world through the lens of a camera. He kissed her and made her senses swim.

She still blew kisses to George's picture every morning and every night. She still loved George madly. But she learned that she could enjoy being with another man and still have these feelings. She didn't love Louis. She admired him, appreciated him, even desired him. She decided that it must be something like the way George could be with other women though he was destined for her. She could have a lovely time, but still end up together with George. Eliza was very happy.

Louis accepted their relationship for what it was. While he would have liked for Eliza to love him, he could accept having her like him very much. He knew that she was very young and he hoped that in time her heart would grow up. He could even accept that Eliza refused to make love with him, for now.

Then one day she received a letter from her father. George was engaged to be married. Her name was Jane and she was perfect.

Eliza sat in the café and drank too much wine. That night she went home with Louis Fitzwilliam and seduced him. After they made love she cried. Louis misunderstood her tears, but he comforted her nonetheless. He was a good man.

Eliza began to truly grow up. She enjoyed Louis' friendship, but did not rely upon him. She knew that he was not the answer to her problems. She learned to rely upon herself. All of a sudden she began to understand the words around her. The radio broadcasts made sense. Her "R" was still not good, but it was less horrific. She never got a soufflé to rise, but her cooking in general improved greatly. She ended cooking class with the equivalent of a B grade (a good soufflé would've meant a superlative rating, but it was still a sweet triumph). Eliza's journal notes began to make sense to her. She began to see the beauty around her clearly and to appreciate it. With Louis' instruction and her own innate instincts, she became a skilled photographer.

From the experts at work, Eliza learned about makeup and clothing. One day she summoned all of her bravery, closed her eyes, and let one of the hair stylists redo her hair. Inside and out, Eliza had really begun to grow up.

In her last letter to her parents before returning home, Eliza wrote: At a nearby café they are playing "La Vie en Rose." They play it for the tourists, but it penetrates my heart every time I hear it. It means looking at life's real beauty. That is something I've learned to do here. In many ways, Paris will always be my home. You were right, Papa, and I thank you for sending me. Don't worry about trying to meet me. I can find my own way. I'm eager to see if you recognize me! When he read this, Bennet cried happily.

Part 6

Posted on Wednesday, 25 August 1999

George Larabee woke up with his face buried deep in his pillow and a feeling of dread deep in the pit of his stomach. The word 'engagement' flitted through his consciousness. With a groan he rolled over in his bed and stretched out full length. His clock read 8:00 am. His valet, Mr. Denny, entered the chamber quietly. George was never quite sure how Denny knew exactly when he awoke each day, but the valet always entered the room at precisely the moment George wanted. George grabbed pillows and sat up comfortably with them behind him on the bed. Denny crossed the room and settled a breakfast tray with orange juice, coffee, pastries, the local newspaper and a white rose in front of George.

Dismissing the feeling in his stomach, George gulped down his juice and grabbed the paper. As he was wont to do he turned to the Variety section first. He nearly spit out his juice. The headline blared from the page, George L No Longer Available ... for Business or Pleasure? A large picture of George with Jane and a smaller picture of a plastic video screen accompanied the article. George read the entire story and pushed his tray aside. Muttering angrily under his breath, he accepted the robe that Denny calmly offered and stormed downstairs. Kate had just gotten into the car. Darcy, who'd already put in several hours' work and an exercise workout, was about to follow.

George yelled out, "Darcy! What have you done to me?!"

Darcy stopped and looked at George's unkempt appearance unemotionally. He said, "What are you talking about?"

George waved the paper in front of Darcy's face. Darcy's eyes tracked back and forth as he tried to read the moving print. Finally he jerked the paper from his stepbrother's hand and smoothed it over the top of the car door so he could read it. George knew how incredibly quickly Darcy could read. He watched as Darcy finished the article and moved his eyes about the page pretending he was still reading. It was a classic stall technique that gave Darcy time to gather his thoughts before answering a question.

George wasn't having any of it. He jerked the paper from Darcy's hand and asked quietly. "What have you done?"

Darcy replied calmly, "Made the most of what you've done." His tone was simultaneously unapologetic and self-satisfied.

Darcy's expression infuriated George. He yelled, "What I've done! I haven't done anything yet! And you can't force me!"

Kate called out from the car, "Whatever are you saying, George? I must have my share of it."

Darcy stepped from behind the car door, leaned down and said, "He's not saying anything, Kate." Then to Bennet, "Drive on, Bennet. I'll drive myself today." Before Kate could ask anything further, Darcy closed the car door and banged on the roof of the car twice. At this impatient and unequivocal cue Bennet set off before Kate could react.

Darcy then set down his briefcase and looked at his stepbrother coldly. He said, "All I did was what you asked. I 'emphasized your qualities... lied.'" George blanched and Darcy continued, "George, you are an ass. When are you going to grow up and finish something? You've had a string of failed relationships. You have a Master's in business, but don't work. You went to law school, but never took the bar. You've had any number of classes and whims and wild ideas and never finished a single one of them. Don't you think it's about time you finished something? Did something with your life?"

George began to look sulky, a look that did nothing to ease Darcy's irritation. George said, "But I don't want to be saddled with a wife, Darcy! This is all wrong. Like you said, I'm irresponsible. I shouldn't be responsible for supporting a wife, or God forbid, children!"

Darcy smirked and choked out a small laugh, "Before you go sign up for welfare, Georgie, let me remind you that Jane is a doctor and a millionaire. She's the best thing that's ever happened to you. And she's way too good for you. The most sense you've ever displayed is in realizing that. Finally, I support you quite well."

George bristled, "What? Is that a threat? Or just an insult?"

Darcy shrugged, "Take it as you wish. It's just the truth." George glared at Darcy and struggled for words. Darcy continued, "Jane is wonderful. You're lucky that she accepted your proposal."

George replied, "Actually she proposed to me."

Darcy shook his head in disbelief, "I wondered how the phrase 'Will you marry me?' could have ever made its way past your lips. Imagining you saying 'Yes' is far easier. You live a charmed life." He crossed his arms across his chest and looked down at his stepbrother disdainfully.

George struggled to hide his hurt over Darcy's comment. He said, "Like you said, you support me well." He looked away.

Darcy said, "Listen, George... as to your first question... that ridiculous article. What does it really matter? Jane loves you. Yes, the fact that she is Patrick Tyson's daughter gives me leverage in a deal that will be a tremendous coup for Pemberley. Yes, I took advantage of the inside track. Would you have me turn my back on a billion-dollar opportunity because you're getting cold feet? Sorry. Not gonna happen in this lifetime. Get over it."

George said, "It's all business to you, isn't it Darcy?"

Darcy shrugged again, "A billion dollars has that effect on me." At George's wry look, Darcy continued, "Yes, it is all business."

George looked at Darcy pensively, "You admit you waste all of your passion on your work. Then just who are you to advise me on marriage?"

Darcy grimaced. He replied, "You live life differently than I do. You have time for a marriage and really need a special woman... a woman who can help you see yourself through her adoring, fine and wonderful eyes. Otherwise you'll end up a second-rate womanizer who does nothing but live off other people's efforts. I don't want to see that happen."

George was taken aback and touched all at the same time. He chuckled ruefully and said, "You know, that may be the nicest thing you've ever said to me."

Darcy just raised his eyebrows and shrugged again. He said, "Marry Jane. You'll be happy."

...

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