Prologue

January 1, 2001

Elizabeth Bennet sat at her computer. She was wearing her favorite baggy tee-shirt and sweats while sipping her coffee as she read and typed. It was not yet noon and she was enjoying a day to do nothing after the busy craziness of the holiday season. Her long, dark hair was in a ponytail that swished about her shoulders as she went though her e-mail, deleting the spam and reading the rare legitimate post.

Her sister, roommate, and best friend Jane was still in bed. Elizabeth could hear the Blue's Clues marathon playing on her sister's TV. Jane maintained that she only watched the show because it was necessary for her professional development; that she needed to know what her students were watching.

Elizabeth believed that Jane just had a thing for Steve. Steve was totally Jane's type- cute, kind, open, friendly. Yup, in fact, give Jane a Y-chromosome and she could be Steve.

Elizabeth grinned at her musings. Steve wouldn't cut it for her. Nope, in the words of another TV character, she needed 'a little monster in her man'. Not that man or monster was knocking at her door. At the moment her love life was all quiet.

Elizabeth's eyes lit up as she read that the Pennsic land page was up. It is a truth universally acknowledged that New Year's Day is the beginning of Pennsic season. The Pennsic war is the highlight of the year for members of the Society for Creative Anachronisms, or SCA. It is a historical recreation of a medieval battle and tournament attended by thousands of people each year.

She found the newly posted land page. This was where each camp's land agent would go and register their camp. With over 10,000 people attending, there was a great need for organization, so people divided themselves up into smaller groups or camps.

Filling out the form to register her camp took only minutes. This was the third year her group, Longbourn, would be at Pennsic and she requested the same camping spot as before, knowing the odds were good that they would receive it.

When she finished submitting her request she went to the list of registered groups. She wasn't surprised to see that it was at least 50 names long. She scanned the list, recognizing some of the names that were familiar to her. At the bottom of the list was Longbourn, with another name already beneath it. 'They must have submitted their request at the same time I did,' she thought as she read the name; it was Pemberley.

SCA The Society for Creative Anachronism is an international organization dedicated to researching and re-creating pre-17th century European history. See http://sca.org/

Pennsic War A two-week long camping event held the first two weeks of August in western Pennsylvania for member of the SCA. Activities include fighting, classes, royal courts, archery, shopping and parties. See http://images.pennsic.net/

  Chapter 1

Definitions: Twelfth Night: January 6. The twelfth night after Christmas. An important Medieval holiday that was celebrated with feasting and dancing. Troll: The gate where you pay your money when entering an SCA event. It is also the title of the person working the gate. Kitchener: A medieval title for the head chef of a manor. In the SCA it's the head cook for an event. Garb: Medieval clothing worn at SCA events.

NOTE: Most members of the SCA have medieval names they use at events. In this story, for example, Jane Bennett uses Vivienne le Sorbonne. Members are not, however, required to use SCA names.

Friday, January 6, 2001

"Lizzy, try this please," Charlotte Lucas requested as she held out a spoonful of soup to her friend.

"Hmm, needs more pepper."

Charlotte smiled, "You always say that when mom says it's fine."

Elizabeth grinned back. "That's because the Baroness doesn't like pepper. I think it's fine. Put it in the fridge and we'll check it in the morning."

It was after 8pm as Elizabeth surveyed the large church kitchen she was standing in. Almost everything was ready for tomorrow. The refrigerator was full of food, as were two coolers sitting just outside the door. On the counters were bread, fruit and other things not requiring to be kept cold. She was reviewing her menus for tomorrow when Jane interrupted her.

"How are you doing Lizzy? All set?"

"Yeah, I think so. What's the current head count up to?"

"Sixty eight. But the Baron thinks we'll have about 100."

"That's pretty good for a Barony twelfth night. Last year we had, what? 50? 60?"

"It helps that most people aren't willing to travel all the way to Canada to be at the Kingdom twelfth night with the Royalty. " Charlotte quipped. "Many people who normally would be at the Kingdom event are coming here instead."

Jane smiled, "We have some newcomers to the Barony who are going to help out."

"Oh?"

"Yes, apparently a knight has moved in. He's already volunteered to help at troll."

"Oh, wow. That's really nice of him. What's his name?"

"Sir Charles le Argent," Charlotte answered. "Mom spoke to him last night."

Elizabeth lifted her eyebrows, "Charles the Silver? Oh please! Where do these stick jocks get these names anyway? Do they do any research at all?"

"Oh Lizzy," Jane countered. "You haven't even met him. He may be very nice."

"What do you know about him, Charlotte?"

"Well, he's from Boston, and moved here because of his work. He said he wants to meet people, so he volunteered for troll, and he's going to be bringing some friends tomorrow. That's all I know," She shrugged.

"Sure it wasn't because he heard the troll is a blonde hottie ?" Elizabeth teased.

They all laughed. Jane was the treasurer for the Barony of Meryton, so it was natural that she would be working the door.

Charlotte asked, "What are you going to wear tomorrow?"

Elizabeth frowned, "Probably just my old blue tunic and a skirt. I don't know. I'll have an apron on all day anyway, so it's not like it will make much difference."

Charlotte nodded, "Yeah, that's what I was thinking. Muck garb."

Elizabeth put her notes down and announced, "Well, I'm all ready here. I can stretch the feast up to 112, Jane. Just get me a final count before three o'clock, okay?" She wiggled her eyebrows at her sister. "Maybe you can send your new knight friend, 'cause I doubt I'll get to see him otherwise."

Elizabeth and Charlotte had earned a reputation for putting on delicious feasts. While this was nice, it did mean they spent most of their time at Barony events in the kitchen cooking and didn't get to see much else.

Jane sighed, "You can come out of the kitchen now and then, you know?"

"I know, and I do come out now and then, but I do have a lot of work to do in here. It a big responsibility cooking dinner for 100 of your closest friends," She joked. "I promise I'll come out for a little while."

"Okay, I just don't want you to work too hard. " Jane smiled gently at her, "Come on, let's go home."

Elizabeth considered her sister while she put away her notes. Jane was beautiful in every sense of the word. She was tall and slender with long blonde hair. Her skin was pale and perfect and she had large, friendly blue eyes. Physically Jane was model material, but more than that, she had a beautiful soul. She was one of the kindest individuals Elizabeth had ever met, always thinking of other people and never taking offense. She had a patience that was truly angelic, and no one was capable of thinking any ill of her.

Together they drove home and got ready for the next day.

*****

Saturday January 7

Elizabeth and Jane were up, dressed and on site at 8 am, two hours before the event began, and they still weren't the first ones there. Elizabeth backed her '89 Volvo wagon to the kitchen door and they began unloading the last load of food from the back. As she entered the kitchen Elizabeth was surprised by a tall blond man who was looking though the cabinets.

"Can I help you?" Elizabeth asked around a pile of pork roasts in her arms.

The man turned, "Oh! Let me help you, please." He rushed over just as she reached the table.

Elizabeth smiled at him. "I'm okay with these, but there's more in the car, if you don't mind."

"Not at all", he said as he headed out the door, almost colliding with Jane. Elizabeth followed the man to her car and pointed out what needed to be brought in. Together the three of them soon had the car emptied and were in the kitchen.

"Thank you for helping," Jane said to the man. "I'm Vivienne le Sorbonne, and this is my sister, Lady Elizabeth Bennett."

Elizabeth didn't think the man's smile could get any bigger, but it did as he took Jane's hand. "I'm Charles le Argent," he said just before he kissed her hand. He then turned to Elizabeth, flashed that grin, and kissed hers as well. "M'lady".

Sir Charles le Argent was tall, with shining blue eyes and wild hair that curled down to his collar. Elizabeth guessed his age at being somewhere around thirty. He was wearing a cotehardie that was blue on his right side and white on the left. It ended at his mid thigh and underneath he had blue and white tights, opposite to the garment. On his feet he had long, pointing turnsole shoes. He had nice shoulders and long legs, which Elizabeth quietly admired while he admired her sister.

Elizabeth had gotten used to the fact that she was fairly invisible to men when they were first introduced to Jane. It was only natural to be distracted when you meet a goddess. Once she had been jealous, but she had long ago accepted it. Jane was simply too good to hold anything against her. Liz knew she had some time before Sir Charles would return to the present. In fact, she counted on it, as it let her take a careful study of the man of whom she would later be asked for her opinion.

Elizabeth hadn't missed the plain white belt and large, plain gold chain that was the insignia of the knighthood. So, this was the new knight they had talked about last night. Charles got one point with Elizabeth for not using the title 'Sir' in his introduction. Elizabeth had had more than enough of arrogant knights who thought the sun and moon revolved around them.

"Bingley, I can't find my chain. It's amazing I can find anything in that tiny changing room." A deep baritone called from the other side of the doorway. The voice was accompanied by a tall man who entered the kitchen. "Oh, I thought you were alone," he said uncomfortably, eying Elizabeth and her sister.

"Darcy!" Bingley exclaimed. "This is Lady Vivienne and Lady Elizabeth," he said happily. "Ladies, this is my best friend, Fitzwilliam Darcy."

"Ladies," he replied with a curt nod to their smiles and curtsies. "Bingley, have you seen my chain?"

"Let me check my bag. Excuse me, ladies." Bingley and Darcy disappeared, leaving a smiling Jane and an unimpressed Elizabeth. As soon as they were gone, Jane's eyes lit up like a little kid getting her first look at the christmas tree. She grinned and bounced silently from foot to foot, until she heard the men returning, then instantly she returned to her calm, friendly, lady-like demeanor.

"Lady Vivienne, I promised to help at troll today. Could you show me where it is and introduce me?"

Jane giggled, "I can certainly show you where it is, but I believe you have already met me."

Charles beamed. "And very pleased to meet you I am! I look forward to being your loyal servant, my lady Troll. Can I help you get set up?" he offered gallantly.

"Thank you Sir, it's this way. See you later, Lizzy."

Elizabeth watched the couple cross the hall and disappear up the stairs towards the main door.

Then that voice caught her attention.

"Umm," he looked bothered. "Can I help you?" he gestured vaguely at the kitchen.

'Quite a way with words', she thought, but smiled gently to him. At least he was trying. That was worth something. The man was clearly shy and Elizabeth didn't want to torture him. She looked over his garb. His royal blue velvet houppelelande with it long full sleeves dragging almost to the floor was impressive, but useless for kitchen work.

"Thanks for offering, but I wouldn't want you to mess up your garb. It's lovely. Did you make it?"

His face warmed with a tiny smile and Elizabeth was struck by the way it changed his whole appearance. "No, my sister made it for me for Christmas," he said.

"It's very nice. May I examine it?" Elizabeth stepped forward as he nodded. The sleeves were lined with gold which Elizabeth had assumed was a polyester satin. She was pleased to discover otherwise. "Silk! I'm very impressed, Sir Fitzwilliam. I hate it when people put so much time into garb and then use fabric that didn't exist in the middle ages." Elizabeth noted the care in which the edge of the sleeves had been cut and sewn in the shape of an oak leaf again and again. She knew she was looking at many weeks of difficult hand sewing. "And she did a beautiful job on these dags." The body of the garment was pleated and fell to just below his knees, under which he was wearing black tights and boots.

Elizabeth enjoyed the craftsmanship of the garb, but she was distracted by the presence of the wearer. He had a presence that was disturbing. She looked up into his dark eyes, which were looking intently on her and smiled to hide her discomfort. "Thank you for letting me see this. Would you like a cup of coffee?" she asked as she retreated back to the safety of her kitchen.

"I thought coffee wasn't period." He replied curtly.

'Thank you!' Elizabeth thought. 'Thank you for being a jerk. I can handle that.' "It's not," she answered him, "but I'm afraid I don't function too well unless I've had a cup in the morning. I made a pot for the people who are here early to help set up, but I'll get rid of it before the event starts. Want some?"

Darcy stared at her. "Yes, please," he replied politely.

"Okay, here's a mug. There's milk in the fridge and sugar, um," she looked around, "is in one of these bags here. I'm sorry." She apologized. "I don't use sugar, but I'll find you some if you need it."

"No, that's not necessary. I take mine plain." He poured a cup and turned to her. "Thanks"

Elizabeth nodded, then took a moment to examine him over the rim of her mug. He was tall, as tall as Bingley and a knight, like his friend. But the resemblance ended there. Where Bingley was light, he was dark. Dark curly hair, dark eyes, dark mood. His face was handsome, with a strong jaw, full lips and a heavy brow, but so grave. Elizabeth had to remind herself that she had seen him smile, once. His body was mostly hidden under the generous robes, but his shoulders were broad and his stomach was flat. Elizabeth couldn't be sure, but she suspected he could really fill out a tee-shirt. She was surprised at her passing desire to test her theory. 'Down girl!'

He was soon finished. "I'll go see to my friend, unless you need anything."

"No, thanks. I'm good." She said brightly. "It was nice to meet you."

He nodded. "It was nice to meet you too." He put his cup down and left.

'NICE TO MEET YOU???' What the hell is wrong with me? It was not 'nice to meet him!' He was rude and haughty and cold. Elizabeth was confused at her behavior, and confusion made her angry. She believed she had a better-than-average grasp on the human condition and it annoyed her to be stumped on her favorite topic: people. What was it about that man that had flustered her so? He had been there ten minutes and Elizabeth was acting like a school girl. As she put away the rest of the groceries and began chopping vegetables Elizabeth puzzled over this. It wasn't lust. Oh, he was physically very handsome, but she understood physical desire and it had been a long time since she had let it rule her. It certainly wasn't his incredible personality. Elizabeth could count on her fingers the number of words he had spoken. Was it the scar tissue? It was obvious, glaring, like a skin graft on his psyche. Something BAD had clearly happened to Sir Fitzwilliam. But that wasn't it. Elizabeth wasn't the type of person who was drawn to the emotionally injured. (Thank God!)

And yet she was drawn to him. Maybe it was the mystery, the darkness about him. His eyes, they were different from most men she had met. And, she realized, he hadn't been entranced by Jane. That was odd. She thought again about those eyes. So deep, yet silent. Like a well.

'Oh! What is the matter with me?' Elizabeth tried to turn her mind away from him. After all, she doubted she would see anymore of him today. She went to work in earnest and only thought about his dark, piercing eyes a few (hundred) more times.

*****

The day had gone as expected. Elizabeth had spent most of it in the kitchen with Charlotte. She had been visited by her friends, who all knew where to find her and she only ventured outside to put out food for the day board. The feast was served at 6pm. Two hours and four courses later, Elizabeth was done and sat down to take a well deserved rest.

"Lizzy! That was wonderful!" Jane cheered, bursting through the doorway. "Charlotte! You girls are amazing!"

"Did people like the feast?" Charlotte asked.

"Did they! The salmon was the best, and the duck! And the peas, I really liked the peas." Jane was gushing. Charlotte lifted an eyebrow to Elizabeth and mouthed "peas?"

Lizzy shrugged.

"Did you girls eat anything?" Baroness Lucas asked entering the kitchen. Lizzy pointed to the dish of salmon in front of her while Charlotte answered, "Yes, mom."

"Good. You girls really outdid yourselves tonight. Everyone at our table was impressed." She smiled proudly at the cooks. "Now, you two get out! We'll handle the clean up. You are done for today. Jane, take them upstairs."

With a groan Elizabeth and Charlotte rose from their seats. They only paused long enough to take off their aprons before being forced out the door by Jane. The Baroness could be heard organizing the clean up crew behind them.

"Lizzy, I'll bet you didn't even go upstairs once today." Jane admonished.

"Nope, and come to think of it, I didn't go to the bathroom either." She laughed. "If you will excuse me."

Jane followed Elizabeth into the ladies room. When Elizabeth came out of the stall, she found the mirrors (and sinks) to be taken up by two women in elaborate Elizabethan garb.

"Excuse me?" Elizabeth asked politely. "Could I wash my hands?"

"Oh!" one of the woman huffed. "Just a moment, I ... just ... need ... to- there! The woman finished arranging the feathers in her headdress. It made the already tall woman six inches taller. Elizabeth didn't think it was an improvement, but didn't say anything and made her way to the sink.

"What do you think, Louisa?" the tall woman asked her companion.

"You look beautiful Caroline. I think your dress is prettier than- Vivienne!"

Jane exited a stall and approached to two women. "Lady Guinevere, Lady Louisa. I don't think you've met my sister. This is Lady Elizabeth. Lizzy, these are Sir Charles' sisters, Louisa and Guinevere.

Elizabeth pasted on her professional smile and nodded to the ladies. "Nice to meet you."

Jane continued, "Elizabeth was the kitchener for the feast today."

"Oh," a look of confusion crossed 'Guinevere's' face, while Louisa said, "That was a lovely feast. Thank you so much, I really enjoyed it."

Elizabeth's smile became more relaxed. "Thank you." Music could now be heard through the door.

"Louisa, the dancing!" Guinevere exclaimed as she grabbed her sister and flew out the door.

Elizabeth looked a Jane and made a face. " 'Guinevere?' Bleck! Hasn't anyone explained to her that well known fictional names are against the rules?"

"I think she's new to the society, Lizzy," Jane said in her forgiving tone. "She's very nice, I sat with them at dinner."

Elizabeth took her sister's opinion with a grain of salt. Jane only saw the best in people. It was her gift, and her weakness. "If you say so, Jane." She sighed at her reflection, "Oh, look at me." Elizabeth was a mess. Her plain green cotton gown was wrinkled and had a stain on the right breast that had missed the apron. Her hair was flattened from the cap she had worn all day and she smelled of fried duck.

"Oh, it's not so bad," Jane took a brush and brushed her sister's hair then secured it in a black net called a snood. Elizabeth took a damp paper towel and blotted most of the stain up, but left a wet spot instead. There was nothing to do about the smell, but Elizabeth was at least presentable.

Together the sisters exited the bathroom and climbed the stairs to the main hall, were the music was coming from.

Inside they found twenty couples dancing together while even more people watched from the side. They had not gone three paces into the hall before they were stopped.

"Vivienne, there you are! I was looking for you." Charles was looking pleased. "Lady Elizabeth, I must tell you I don't think I've ever had so fine a feast." He looked at his dark shadow. "Don't you think so, Darcy?"

"Oh, um, yes," he mumbled and looked away.

Bingley took Elizabeth's hand and kissed it. "I hope you will let me help you with the clean up."

Elizabeth couldn't help it. She had to admit she liked Sir Charles. "That is very kind of you. Baroness Lucas is in charge of clean up. She threw us out of the kitchen, but I'll need some help later, reloading my car."

Bingley looked like he had been given a cookie. "And help you shall have." He turned to Jane, "My lady, may I have this dance."

Jane and Charles moved onto the dance floor. Elizabeth looked about, but Sir Fitzwilliam seemed to have vanished. She saw Charlotte and joined her.

"So, what do you think of Sir Charles?" Charlotte's tone made it clear she wanted to do her favorite thing, gossip.

"I like him, he seems very nice." Elizabeth confided.

"And what about his friend?"

She shrugged, "What about his friend? I hardly know the man." Elizabeth saw him on the dance floor with Lady Guinevere.

Charlotte grinned. She had some news.

"Whaaaaat?"

Charlotte leaned her head closer. "Well, I know he's very shy and very unattached."

"Are you sure? Lady Guin [snort] looks pretty attached to him."

Charlotte shook her head. "Nope, though not for the lady's lack of trying. He only hangs out with her because she's his best friend's sister."

Elizabeth frowned. "I don't get them being best friends. Charles is so outgoing and friendly and he looks like he wants to hide under a rock."

Their conversation was interrupted by both ladies being asked to dance. Elizabeth danced twice more, before she found herself without a partner. She sat down on the side, and watched Jane, who was still dancing.

"Charles, can we just go now!" She heard from behind her. Elizabeth recognized the deep voice instantly, and was careful to not turn her head, or give any sign she was listening.

"Darcy," Charles replied softly. "I promised to help Elizabeth. Besides, the dancing's not over. Why do you want to leave?"

"You know why I want to leave. I never wanted to come!" His voice, while still low, was gaining intensity. "I wanted to go to Canada."

Elizabeth remembered that the Kingdom Twelfth night, was happening at that very moment in Quebec.

"Darcy," Charles was trying to be reasonable. "I told you before. I've got a house here. I want to meet my new neighbors. These people are very nice."

"Charles, there is hardly a peer among them, unless you count the Baron. We should be with the Royal entourage."

Elizabeth's eyes widened. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. Was Sir Fitzwilliam really that arrogant? "Darcy, why don't you dance? It will make you feel better."

Elizabeth would have sworn she heard Sir Fitzwilliam growling. "You know I don't like to dance."

"Oh, stop. You do too." Charles was getting tired of this. "Now look, there's Lady Elizabeth, you know her. Why don't you ask her to dance?"

"Charles! I am not going to ask some kitchen girl to dance with me."

'Kitchen girl!' Elizabeth almost lost it. 'Kitchen girl!?!'

Fitzwilliam continued, "You are dancing with the only pretty girl here. Go enjoy her. I will not dance."

"She is an angel, isn't she?" Elizabeth could hear Charles smiling.

She had had enough and quietly got up and found Charlotte. "Hey, guess what Sir Fitzwilliam just called me?" she whispered in her friend's ear.

"What?"

"Kitchen Girl," she burst out laughing.

Charlotte was amazed. "No way!" she shook her head, then observing her friend's sincerity, joined in her laughter.

After a few moments they calmed down, and left the main hall to pack for home.

*****

Sir Fitzwilliam Darcy was considered by most of his peers to be unusually fearless. He was known as an honorable fighter who would take on odds that most sane men would turn away from. He never backed down from a challenge. He was thought of as a paragon of courage.

He knew they were so wrong. Fitzwilliam, the big, brave knight of the East Kingdom had a huge weak spot. A fear that could reduce this tall, strong man to a toddler crying for his blankie. It was women.

He knew he liked women. He knew that being with a woman would, somehow, mean lasting happiness. But he had no idea how this worked. Oh, he could get laid. That was no trick. He had mastered that his first year in college. But that happiness was fleeting, and too often had lead to unhappiness.

No, he knew he wanted something more than sex. Love? He supposed that was it, but he shyed away from the word. It was something you saw too much on greeting cards to be really meaningful.

He had seen what he wanted once, in his parents. But that was a long, long time ago. Before his mother had died. Perhaps if she had lived, she might have been able to guide him in what finding what happiness he wanted.

But she hadn't and so he had no guide, and was searching on his own. And he truly did not have a clue. He didn't understand women. He didn't know how to approach them, or talk with them. He felt stupid every time he tried, so he had basically stopped trying.

Women, love, relationships; they were all a big, black, dangerous cave filled with monsters to Darcy, and he was terrified of it. When pushed into that cave, even by his best friend, Darcy would panic. He couldn't help it. It was like a phobia: an irrational fear.

And so, he found to his embarrassment and horror, he had called the one woman he had met whose cave he had might have been willing to explore a 'kitchen girl' and had refused to ask her to dance.

If that wasn't bad enough, (and it was) he was pretty sure she had heard him, thus ending any possible chance he might have had with her and plummeting his mood from low to rock bottom.

Sir Fitzwilliam Darcy wasn't brave, he thought bitterly. He was the biggest coward on the planet.

Cotehardie: a fitted garment that is buttoned down the front with long, tight sleeves.

Houppelelande: a long loose robe with long, full, flowing sleeves. (See the man in blue on the left in picture)

Chapter 2

Sunday, January 8, 2001

Elizabeth lit the candles, then sighed as she eased her sore body into the hot water. She had slept in, then spent the rest of the morning emptying her car and putting away her cooking tools, cookbooks, pots, and pans. Her refrigerator, which had been empty, now contained enough leftovers so she wouldn't have to cook for at least a week.

Now with all of her chores done, it was time to relax. Elizabeth rarely bothered with baths, but she needed it this time. Her arms, her back, even her feet ached from the punishment she had given them yesterday.

Still, she was pleased with what she had done. The feast was successful by all accounts. Nothing had burned or been declared inedible, and everyone seemed to enjoy it.

She was dozing in the tub when she heard the phone ring. Jane picked it up, and a moment later she knocked on the bathroom door. "Lizzy, it's Charlotte." she announced.

'Only for Charlotte', Elizabeth thought. "Bring it here," she called to her sister.

Jane handed her the cordless and went to the mirror to fix her hair. Lizzy knew her sister was looking to talk with her and discuss the events of yesterday.

"Hey sweetie," drawled Liz.

"How's the kitchen girl today?"

Elizabeth laughed, "Soaking. How are you?"

"I'm good. Little achy, but good. " Charlotte went on to tell her the gossip she had missed at the event, most of which Elizabeth could care less about.

"I got some more information on your new knights."

That caught Elizabeth's interest. "Really? Tell me."

Charlotte began, warming to her topic. "It seems that Charles and his sisters are members of the Bingley family, as in Bingley-Pryce."

"The computer manufactures?"

"Yeah!" Charlotte was in her glory. "Bingley and Pryce are their parents. Charles is here to run a new software division in Tech City, you know, the old IBM facility."

Elizabeth knew it, heck, everyone in the county knew it. When IBM had pulled out of the huge manufacturing complex in the early '90s, everyone thought it would be the end of the town. Bingley-Pryce, or BP, was a huge manufacturing group that made large computer systems for the government. The news that they were moving into the empty IBM buildings had filled the local newspaper for weeks.

"No way!" Elizabeth frowned, "So, you're telling me he's rich?"

"Umm-hm," Charlotte smiled.

"Wow. A local celebrity. What's the story with his friend?"

"That I don't have," she giggled, "yet."

"You keep on it, Char. I gotta go, the bath water's getting cold."

"I'll see you at fighter practice, right?" Charlotte asked.

"A week from Tuesday? Yeah, we'll be there."

They said goodbye and Liz put the phone down and addressed her sister. "Well?"

"What did Charlotte say?"

"Oh, mostly gossip about the event. The band, the fighters, who was making out with who. You know." Elizabeth closed her eyes and laid back in the water.

"And who was making out with who?" Jane asked.

"Apparently our sister." Jane sighed. "Lydia was seen in the parking lot with some guy. Benny? Danny? I don't know."

"Denny." Jane corrected. "I met him earlier. Seemed nice enough. He's a fighter, but he is also a musician."

Elizabeth shrugged. "Whatever. Lydia, as we well know, is eighteen now, and can legally neck with anyone she wants too. Not our problem." She wished she believed what she said. Lydia was technically an adult, but she was also very immature and both Jane and Elizabeth worried about her.

Jane turned her mind to someone else. "And, what else?"

"Oh, she did say something about Sir Charles." Liz teased, "hmm, let me see if I can remember it."

"Lizzy!"

Elizabeth laughed. "According to 'she-who-knows-all', Charles and his sisters are members of the Bingley-Pryce dynasty and very rich."

Jane looked surprised. "Really? I never would have guessed that."

"Did he say anything about his work?"

She recalled her conversations with him from yesterday. "No, he mentioned something about computers, but I had no idea he was wealthy."

"So he wasn't making a big deal about money or anything."

"No," she frowned. "Nothing like that at all. He was a perfect gentleman. Very friendly and amiable. What did you think of him?"

Elizabeth had been expecting this. "Well, I didn't get to spend as much time with him as you did," she smiled. "But, I liked him. He seemed very nice and quite attractive. You have my permission to court him."

"Lizzy," she scolded, then changing her tone, she asked, "What did you think of his friend."

Elizabeth looked away, "I thought he was a jerk, actually."

"Oh, no, Lizzy. You must be wrong. I thought he was a bit reserved, but very polite."

Elizabeth then told her the whole 'kitchen girl' story. Jane frowned. "He should not have said that."

She shrugged, "Why not? He is a knight after all, and I'm not a peer. It's not like I'm anyone important."

"Still, that was very wrong of him." Jane sounded just like the kindergarten teacher she was.

"Are you going to make him apologize and give me a 'sorry hug'?" Lizzy wondered out loud.

Jane laughed, "Would you like that?"

Lizzy lifted an eyebrow. "Well, he was nice to look at, but I think I'll pass this time."

"I do think you are wrong about him, Lizzy. I think he's just shy. Do you know what he was doing during the day while Charles was helping me?"

Elizabeth shrugged. "What?"

"Reading! All by himself. All those people, and he was sitting in a corner reading a book."

"Chaucer?"

"Boccaccio."

Elizabeth's left eyebrow shot up in surprise. She had not figured the somber Sir Fitzwilliam to be reading something as saucy as The Decameron. 'Maybe I should ask him about Alibech and Rustico,' she leered privately to herself. *

Jane continued. "What did you think of his sisters?"

Lizzy was puzzled. "Whose sisters?"

"Sir Charles'. You meet them in the bathroom, remember?"

"Oh, you mean 'Lady Guinevere'?" She laughed at the memory. "She was a hoot. The other one, what was her name?"

"Louisa"

"That's right, she seemed nice enough. What did you think of them?"

"Oh, I thought they were very nice!" Elizabeth mentally rolled her eyes. "Caroline, I mean Guinevere, is very new, and she was asking many questions. I think she will change her name soon." She said with a reassuring nod. "Louisa is married. I don't think you met her husband, but they both seemed very nice, although, the Baron did have to ask them to put some liquor away. Seems they had forgotten it was a dry site."

Elizabeth pursed her lips, but didn't say anything.

"Do you think they will be at fighter practice?" Jane was practically beaming.

"Maybe," Elizabeth rose from the tub and started drying off. "You sound like you would like to see them again."

She blushed and looked down, "It's only that I want them to feel welcomed in the Barony."

'Rigggght, and that's why you are lit up like the Empire State Building.' Lizzy thought as she went to the bedroom to get dressed. She knew Jane better then anyone else alive. It was obvious that Jane liked Sir Charles very much indeed.

The phone rang again. Lizzy let Jane get it and realized with a sinking feeling that it was their mother.

Fanny Bennet was not a woman of great intelligence. But she was a woman of great aspirations. She knew what she wanted. Unfortunately for them, most of these aspirations had to do with her daughters.

Fanny liked making plans. She had already planned all her daughters' weddings, Jane was to have cornflower blue & periwinkle, Elizabeth: lilac & lavender, and so on. Everyone knew the rule was that the sister who got married first had to have all of the other sisters in her wedding party.

It didn't seem to matter that neither Jane nor Elizabeth had a boyfriend, much less a fiancé. Their sisters who did have boyfriends, Mary and Kitty, had both been declared to young to marry. (Actually, Mary was old enough, but she was so hostile to any of her mother's plans that the matter had been dropped.) Lydia, their youngest sister, was still in her senior year of high school and hadn't shown any interest in one guy long enough to have any of them be even considered a boyfriend.

Of all of her sisters, Elizabeth had the most trouble dealing with her mother. It wasn't that they were too much alike, it was that they were so fundamentally different. Elizabeth was her father's daughter, and that was that.

The only thing Lizzy had gotten from her mother was her tendency to speak her mind and her sex drive. (One did not have five children from a great interest in backgammon.) All the Bennet girls shared what had once been called 'strong female drives', and all of them had come up with ways to deal with it. Jane sublimated it into sports, horseback riding specifically. Elizabeth had developed a will of iron. Mary had taken the opposite course and just slept with whomever she wanted to. (It had been a mystery to Liz how Mary, who was the plainest of the sisters, always had the most dates, until she made the connection that Mary was 'a sure thing'.) Mary, however, was now in a live-in relationship with Scott. Kitty had been in a series of long term relationships since she was 15. Now 20, she had been living with Jacques for almost two years and they seemed to be happy. Only Lydia, the youngest (and stupidest) of the sisters had yet to develop a strategy to deal with it. This is what lead Jane and Liz to be so worried about her, despite that fact that they had done the same type of things (and more) when they were her age.

Jane passed Lizzy the phone. "Hi Mom."

"Oh Lizzy!" Her mother always began with 'Oh'. "I was just telling Janey, I picked up a copy of Toy Story 2 today for my collection." Mrs. Bennet had been collecting Disney movies for her future grandchildren since Jane turned 25.

"That's nice, Mom." Lizzy offered noncommittally. She continued to listen to her mother blather on about her neighbors, her sisters and other things of little consequence.

"Oh, you'll never guess who I ran into." Here it came. "Do you remember Michael Sutherland? He went to high school with you."

Liz refrained from pointing out that her graduating class alone was 530 people. "No, I don't."

"Well, I ran into his mother. And she was telling me about him. I think he would like to meet you, Lizzy."

"Can't Mom, I'm busy."

"Lizzy! You don't even know what I've got planned, or when. Now listen. We were thinking about a party here at the house next weekend."

"Sorry, mom. I'm busy."

"How can you be busy all weekend?" she snapped. "All right, we'll have it the weekend after."

"Nope, can't make it. Too much to do. So sorry." Elizabeth's strategy for dealing with her mother was to just say no.

"Lizzy, I'm only trying to help!" Here came the guilt. "I worry so much about you girls. I don't want you end up old maids."

Liz had had enough. "Mom, I gotta go. Love you, bye." She clicked off the phone in mid-rant.

"Another fix-up?" Jane asked sympathetically.

"Yup. Michael Sutherland."

"I remember him. He was a football player one year ahead of me." Jane made a face. "Good call, you wouldn't have liked him."

"It doesn't matter if I would have or not. I don't want to be fixed up with a guy by our mother."

"She only trying to help, Lizzy."

"I know." Elizabeth sighed and went to her room. Flopping on her bed she looked at a book, but couldn't focus on it.

It was not that Elizabeth didn't want a relationship. It was just that she didn't want her parent's relationship. Her mother had been a beautiful, sexy college senior when she met her father, a handsome, sexy college professor ten years Fanny's senior. The rest was history.

Unfortunately, while they still had a busy sex life, her parents were otherwise completely incompatible. He was quiet and retiring; she was outgoing and social. He loved reading scholarly texts; she loved to watch afternoon soap operas. Passion and their children bound them in a relationship that lacked respect or affection. It had left her mother no way to relate to her husband except through whining, which left him no way to deal with her, except through teasing. She had become a babbling old busybody and he was a sarcastic old goat.

Elizabeth shuddered. No, that was not for Elizabeth. She would find love on her own terms, or not at all.

* Day 3 Story 10. The most controversial story in the Decameron, it tells how the maiden Alibech had the monk Rustico teach her how to 'serve God' by putting his 'Devil' in her 'Hell'. I recommend it. It's very funny and quite drool worthy.

Chapter 3

Tuesday, January 16, 2001

Elizabeth put the cheese, herbs, and eggs into the food processor and pulsed it until they were well mixed and pale green. She then poured the mixture into a pair of pie shells and put them in the oven.

"How long will those take?" Jane asked, an impatient frown on her face.

"40 minutes," she replied as she set another two finished pies on the counter to cool. "It's only 5:15. There's no rush. Fighter practice doesn't begin until 7:00." Although Elizabeth and Jane were not fighters, they often attended the monthly gathering at the local community center that was called 'fighter practice' to take advantage of the other activities there. Elizabeth enjoyed gathering with the others to gossip, sew and share their knowledge, while they watched the fighters work out.

It was also the custom in the Barony, that the evening would conclude with a dance practice, in which one dance would be taught and reviewed, enlarging the attendee's repertoire.

Lizzy grinned privately as Jane started pacing the kitchen. "Don't you have some lesson plans to work on or something?" Jane sighed and left.

Elizabeth shook her head. 'Oh yeah, she's got it bad'.

Jane and Elizabeth had learned through CNN (the Charlotte News Network) that Sir Charles would be attending the fighter practice that night and Jane had be restless ever since.

****

The reason they were only 20 minutes early to the fighter practice was that Charles had managed to find his keys sooner than Darcy expected when he had hid them earlier. Charles was enthusiastic by nature, but this was ridiculous. Darcy knew the signs too well: Charles was doting on someone, this would lead to him being besotted, then being violently in love, and then, if the pattern held, to be painfully hurt. He would never want his friend to change, but he hoped for once, Charles would be cautious.

William Marshall Darcy rolled his shoulders and settled into position. His right hand held a 'sword' made from a 48 inch piece of rattan at shoulder height, parallel to the floor. The sword was wrapped in duct tape, so that if the wood should snap, the splinters would be prevented from escaping and causing injury. His left arm held a metal shield. He looked into his opponent's eyes.

"Ready?"

He nodded, and attacked in the next beat. Most of his blows landed on Charles' shield, but he managed to get one on his left shoulder as Charles reached for William's thigh.

Darcy was considered a very careful, very controlled, very honorable fighter, and he was. He viewed each bout as a contest of champions and to him, honor was more important than winning. He was also very good. Strong, fast and limber. This is why he was a knight. He was everything a member of the chivalry should be.

But his opponent was Charles Bingley. His best friend. The man with whom he had first put armor on, back when they were still gangly freshmen. Fighting with Charles then was more like two boys wrestling with big sticks. Neither bothered calling blows, they would just wale on each other till they had enough.

The marshals disapproved of that and called them on it frequently, but their white belts, and their reputations, saved them from receiving too much grief. Darcy saw his opening and landed a clean shot to the side of Charles' head. "Pay attention," he growled.

Then he saw what had distracted Charles. Making her way across the far side of the room, her arms loaded with pies. It was her. The kitchen girl. His cave woman. (Darcy would freely admit his lack of knowledge in the ways of women, but even he was certain that she would not be pleased with these endearments.) His eyes locked on her figure. She was wearing modern clothes that exposed everything her medieval gown had hid. She was of average height, 5'4", 5'5" at the most, her legs were encased in black denim leggings that revealed the full swell of her derriere. She was wearing a dark purple henley shirt that exposed one of the nicest pair of breasts he had seen in a long time over a slim waist. Large, full, round. Darcy was immediately reminded of grapefruit. Her hair, which he had only seen bound at Twelfth Night, was loose. Held away from her face by a head band, it was a long mass of dark, shining loose curls that bounced with her every step. Darcy knew women who had and would pay dearly for hair (and breasts) like that, but he had no doubt that Elizabeth's assets were natural.

*SLAM* his head rocked to the side. "Pay attention," Charles directed with a huge grin. Darcy narrowed his eyes and returned to the fight with a vicious combination stoke.

****

Elizabeth and Jane were greeted by their friends as they entered the hall. The Bennet sisters were smart, beautiful and friendly, which made them quite popular with the members of the Barony.

Together they set up a table with the Green tarts, forks, plates and napkins. Elizabeth left copies of the recipe as well.

"What is this? Lizzy, don't you ever stop?" Elizabeth was embraced by Wilhelm Lucas, the Baron of Meryton and one of the genuinely nicest men she had ever met. Lucas had joined the SCA over twenty years ago with his young family and had never left. He and his wife were ideal as the Baron & Baroness. They were friendly, approachable, quick to take notice of a person's good work and slow to take offense.

"I had some free time today, so I thought I'd make a little snack for tonight," Lizzy said.

"You are so good, Lizzy." He turned to the crowd and cleared his voice. "Oyez!!" He bellowed in his loud Baron voice. "Lady Elizabeth had been so kind as to provide a treat for us tonight. There are some," he looked at the recipe sheet beside him, "Green tarts here for everyone to try. Thank You."

Charles and William had stopped fighting for the announcement. Before the Baron had even finished, Charles had dropped his sword & shield, slid off his helm and was walking towards the girls. William had no choice but to follow.

Darcy and Bingley were not only opposites in coloring and temperament, but also in social interactions. When confronted with a situation that made him nervous, Darcy clammed up. Bingley, however, became even more gregarious.

"Lady Vivienne! Lady Elizabeth!" he said grandly. "It so nice to see you again."

Jane's color had risen and her eyes were nailed to the floor. Elizabeth realized she wouldn't be able to talk for a while, so she answered him.

"Sir Charles. It's very nice to see you. Sir Fitzwilliam," she nodded, "my lords, would you like to try some tart?"

"Please! I have to tell you again how much I enjoyed the Twelfth Night feast. Simply wonderful." He looked at his friend, "right Darcy?"

Darcy caught himself staring at Elizabeth. "Oh, yes. . .very good . . . thank you." He took the plate Jane offered him and turned away to prevent himself from staring.

Bingley continued on, after tasting the tart, "This is lovely, what's in it?" He noticed his sister had joined them. "Caroline, you have to try this!"

Elizabeth studied Caroline Bingley as she sniffed her nose at her brother's plate. "It's made from cheese, eggs and fresh herbs," Elizabeth smiled encouragingly.

Caroline Bingley looked like she had been offered a week-dead fish. "Isn't that terribly fattening?"

Elizabeth switched over to teacher mode, "Yes, it certainly is very high in fat by modern standards, but in period times, people worked much harder and needed the calories."

"Also, you have to remember that all the cookbooks were written by the chefs of the richest men in the world. The recipes were designed to show off their master's wealth, hence the reason they are so lavish." Jane offered, more comfortable talking to Caroline than Charles.

Caroline looked unconvinced. "Let me just try a taste of yours, Charles." She helped herself to his fork. "Its very weedy, isn't it?" she frowned.

"Those are the fresh herbs, it's different from what we are used to, nowadays," explained Elizabeth to possibly the stupidest woman on earth.

Charles asked, "You don't like it?" At Caroline's shake of her head, he smiled. "Good, all the more for me."

Caroline oozed to Jane's side. "Vivienne, dear, I need you to help me," she fluffed.

"Oh, you can call me Jane when I'm not in garb."

"Jane?" Caroline asked flatly.

"Yes, Jane Bennet is my mundane name."

"Oh," Caroline said sympathetically. "Well, anyway, I need your help to pick out a new dress." She lead Jane away to the chairs, followed by a grinning Bingley.

Elizabeth found herself alone with Fitzwilliam. "Do you like the tart?" she asked conversationally.

"Yes. . . it's quite good." He nodded. "This is a period recipe?"

"Yes, it was published in anonymously in a volume called Epulario in Italy in 1516, which was translated into English and published in London in 1598."

William was staring again. He tried to stop. "Well . . . yes. Thank you." As silence grew between them his first instinct was to retreat to the fighting area. Damn! What was wrong with him? He pulled himself together and tried to say something intelligent.

"Do you cook for all the fighter practices?"

Lizzy shook her head. "No, we had a snow day today, so I used the extra time for cooking."

"Snow day? Are you a teacher?" he frowned slightly. "I thought Bingley said that Vivienne taught. He must have been confused."

"No, actually we both teach," she corrected him. "Jane teaches kindergarten and I teach at the other end, eleventh grade math."

"Do you like it?" he asked. 'Good, safe question,' he thought.

"Yes, actually," she smiled. "I originally studied to be a programmer, but then my father sat me down and explained to me the wonders of tenure and summers off," she laughed.

"So your father teaches too?" he asked, trying to keep the conversation going.

"Well, kinda. He's the Dean of Economics at SUNY New Paltz."

"Oh, William!" an overloud Caroline called to them. "You must come over here. I need your opinion."

He gave Elizabeth an apologetic look and went to Bingley's side. "What is it, Caroline," he stated without asking.

"Which dress do you like?" she cooed as she slid closer to him and pressed a catalog to his face.

"Caroline, I told you before, pick a time and a place you are interested in and then get garb to match it." He sounded slightly peeved.

"But I don't know what I like." She whined "What period are you?"

"England, 1415."

"The Hundred Years War," Elizabeth said.

William lifted his eyes to her. "Yes, the Invasion of France."

"So, what would I wear for that? Something like this?" she pointed to a strange wenchy thing with way too much cleavage.

"No," Jane spoke gently, flipping through the catalog. "I don't see anything in here for that era. Um, do you remember what Sir Charles was wearing at Twelfth Night?"

"Vivienne, you can call me Charles" Charles offered.

"Oh," she smiled brightly. "Then you must call me Jane."

He smiled warmly back at her, while Caroline waited impatiently.

"Yes?" Caroline huffed.

Jane turned back to her. "Okay, good. During that time, both men and women wore basically the same thing called a cotehardie. A long fitted garment with buttons going up the front and narrow sleeves. Women, of course, would have it fall in a full skirt to the ground, while men's usually ended at the thigh." Jane studied Caroline for a moment. "I think that would look very flattering on you. The ideal of beauty for that time was tall and slender."

Caroline was clearly thrilled. "Oh! Then I have to get one of those! Jane, where do you get your gowns?"

Jane looked embarrassed. "Actually, Caroline. I sew my own."

William, sensing he was off the hook, moved away and went back to the fighting area.

Charlotte joined Lizzy, and from a safe distance, they watched Jane try and get out of making Caroline a dress. "So, you sure there's nothing going on with Fitzwilliam and Caroline there?" Elizabeth asked.

"I'm sure. " Charlotte answered. "I found out more about him. Turns out he's in high tech too, and he has even more money than Charles." She glanced at Fitzwilliam and saw him staring at her friend. "Why, are you interested?"

Lizzy made a face. "No, I'm the 'kitchen girl', remember?"

"I don't know, girlfriend. He seems pretty attentive to you."

Liz looked and caught him staring. "Why does he keep looking at me?"

"Hey, don't sell yourself short. I mean, you aren't Jane, but who is?" She whispered in a sing-song voice, "I think he likes you."

"Charlotte!"

"And what's wrong with that? After all, there are certainly worse men you could pick. He's rich, he's a knight, he's quiet, he doesn't run around."

"He called me a 'kitchen girl'! Charlotte, that is not what you call someone you like! Besides, I'm not going to throw myself at him just because he's rich or a knight."

"Why not?" Charlotte asked, "I'm just saying, if you are going to fall for a rich man or a poor man, it makes more sense to fall for the rich one."

Elizabeth looked at her friend in shock, "How can you be so mercenary?"

Charlotte shook her head. "I'm not being mercenary, I'm just being practical."

Lizzy sighed. She knew when Charlotte had that tone to her voice she was in for a lecture.

"No, really. Science says that love is just a bio-chemical reaction. Hormones effect certain parts of the brain, and *bang* you're in love. You put two suitable people together and they will fall in love. None of that Princess Bride True-Love crap. It is just a matter of the right time and the right place. So you might as well put yourself with a wealthy man when the right time comes, rather than a poor one."

Elizabeth was disgusted. "Do you really believe that?"

"Absolutely! Science does not lie," Charlotte asserted firmly.

Elizabeth just shook her head. She was disturbed by what Charlotte said, and it upset her that she so violently disagreed with her good friend. "If it's okay with you, I'm gonna go sit, by myself, far away from any men, thanks."

She took an empty seat, her head spinning. Was Charlotte right? Was love just a physical reaction? Was every fairy tale she had ever read a lie? She didn't think so. She would be embarrassed if anyone knew her thoughts on the matter, but she did believe that there was such a thing as true love; a meeting of the minds, a joining of the souls. Not that her parents were any example. But some couples, like her aunt and uncle. Yes, they seemed to be truly in love, a partnership full of respect and affection for each other. She wanted a relationship like they had.

She noticed that while she had been thinking, her eyes had rested on the pleasant form of Sir Fitzwilliam. She studied what she found she was looking at. He had recalled Charles to the fighting area and they were moving around the practice floor in a chorus of loud cracks and bangs. He was wearing expensive looking armor. All steel and well made. The armor showed some of what the Houppelelande had hid. He had broad shoulders, and long, well muscled arms. His legs were long too, and judging by the way he moved, they had more than enough strength, yet were not lacking in flexibility.

She wondered what he looked like under the armor. He was probably wearing just a t-shirt and loose pants. Her mouth dried as she imagined those well cut arms and a chiseled, broad chest, all damp and sweaty.

"Lizzy? Are you all right?" Jane suddenly appeared. "Your face is all red?"

Elizabeth broke out of her revelry with a start. "Oh, yes. Sorry." She ducked her head and tried to calm herself. "I was just thinking."

Jane looked at the object of her sister's reflection and smiled knowingly. "They are distracting, aren't they." She sat beside her sister. "Oh, looks like they are done. Maybe we can watch them take off their armor."

"Jane!" Elizabeth was not sure what horrified her more, what Jane had said, or that it so closely matched her own thoughts.

Jane giggled. "Oh, come on, Lizzy. No harm in looking." She eyed Elizabeth, "William's been looking at you enough this evening."

"Oh good!" she said sarcastically. "Has everyone noticed?"

"Nope, just me."

"And Charlotte," Elizabeth sighed. "Why did you call him William?"

"Oh, that's his mundane name, William Darcy. Charles told me."

"I see." Elizabeth's attention was distracted back to the long awaited 'removing of the armor'. And it was good. Very good. Powerful, broad shoulders, strong arms, flat stomach, hips you wanted to wrap your legs around, wild sweaty curls. And something Elizabeth had not anticipated; a very nice, tight butt. William Darcy's body was, in fact, better than she had imagined.

She tore her gaze away long enough to notice Jane's object of attention. Charles was less than an inch shorter than William. He didn't have muscles the way Darcy did, but he was fit and looked quick like a whip. Liz figured he was probably stronger than he looked. She remembered the force of the blows he had been giving his best friend.

Jane was silent, observing Charles and William, making her own mental assessment. She looked at Lizzy and laughed when the men disappeared into the locker room. "Terrible! Aren't we?

Lizzy nodded in agreement, "Horrible. I'm shocked."

"Do you want to stay for dancing?"

"No, Mary's doing the 'horse's bransle' again."

"Which one is that?"

Lizzy stood and demonstrated, quietly singing the tune while doing the steps.

"Oh, that one. I know that in my sleep," she wrinkled her nose. "Yeah, I'll pass."

"Okay. I'll get my stuff together. " Elizabeth could hear her younger sister calling everyone to attention as she went to the table. She was pleased to see that the tarts had disappeared, as well as the recipes.

She looked around for Charlotte to say goodbye and noticed Charles had returned from the locker room and was talking to Jane. Charlotte, however, was nowhere to be seen. Elizabeth walked to Baron Lucas to ask for her whereabouts.

"Elizabeth! I was just talking to Sir Fitzwilliam here, telling him about all the talented people in the Barony."

Elizabeth froze. Standing beside Baron Lucas was William. She flushed as she remembered her earlier thoughts about him. William was now dressed in a dark turtleneck and black pants. She had almost not recognized him, but for his eyes.

Baron Lucas continued, oblivious to Elizabeth's discomfort. "Yes, Elizabeth here is an excellent example. Not only is she an excellent cook, but her sewing is magnificent! And she is always willing to teach what she knows. "

William looked amused by the Baron's boasting and Elizabeth's blushes. "Indeed, Lady Elizabeth, would you care to dance?"

Elizabeth was surprised by his offer. 'I guess the kitchen girl has gone up a notch,' she thought. "I'm not in garb. You can call me Elizabeth, or Liz."

"Is that your modern name?"

"Yes, Elizabeth Bennet. I find having one name helps keep me from getting confused," she said lightly.

"William Darcy," He offered his hand. His voice was confident, like this was something she should know. "You haven't answered my question, Elizabeth."

Elizabeth was arrested by his eyes. They were so dark and intense. God! If the eyes were the window to the soul, his were an IMAX. Then she remembered the arrogant way he had acted at Twelfth Night, and she wanted nothing to do with him. "I'm sorry, William. I didn't come over to dance. We're going home." She addressed the Baron. "Do you know where Charlotte is? I want to say goodbye to her."

Baron Lucas pointed out his daughter. She quickly wished both men goodnight and moved away from them. Saying a brief farewell to Charlotte, she almost had to drag Jane to the car.

"Lizzy, what's wrong with you?" Jane asked in the parking lot.

What indeed? Elizabeth just wanted to get out of there. Why was she so rattled? Was it what Charlotte had said? Was it William? He confused and infuriated her so much, but why? Why did she even care? She was just a kitchen girl to him. He only asked her to dance to be polite. She didn't even like him.

So why couldn't she get his eyes out of her head?

Green Tart

One unbaked pie shell 1 cup ricotta 1/2 cup farmers, basket, or cream cheese 1/4 cup grated romano or parmesan cheese 2 eggs 3 T chopped parsley 1t marjoram (dried or fresh) 2t fresh basil or pesto 1 sm. onion or green onion, chopped 2 T melted butter w/ a pinch of saffron salt & pepper

Puree all the ingredients together and fill the pie shell. Bake at 350 for 35-40 minutes until it's lightly brown and not runny.

From Epulario 1516