Charles & William

Seeing from afar a tall fair man waiting in front of the main entrance of the Winterthur Tower, William hurried his steps. Charles spotted him exiting the shopping centre and came towards him.

"Bing? Am I late?"

A surprised Charles answered, "Not at all, Darce! You’re early, as usual!"

William frowned. "But you were here before me…"

Charles’ smile spread on his face. "Well, I have a fantastic story to tell – which is a good reason for arriving at our appointment on time – but I have an even more fantastic one to hear… So, counting on your proverbial punctuality, I arrived early so as not to have to wait till lunch to hear it!"

William blushed. As long as he had stayed in his world with Elizabeth, he hadn’t had to really think about what he had been doing in the past nine hours and what he would do in the future. He hadn’t had time either to think how other people would see what had happened, and what he hoped would happen next. He had just enjoyed the present, more than he had ever had since his parents had passed away; and he had hoped that fate would be kind enough so that he might also enjoy the future. During his short taxi ride, he had daydreamed about Elizabeth as he had left her – almost asleep, most of her naked body curled under the quilt – and as he would see her later in the day – exiting from that damned Crazy Horse, but looking for him tonight. His friend’s enquiry reminded him that what had happened had been fantastic, as Charles had put it. It was extraordinary – in the full sense of the word; William had never done something so out of his usual behaviour. He was caught unprepared by the question – another proof that something was wrong in William Darcy’s mind – but didn’t think about ignoring it. Even still in her bed, the image of her in his eye, he had known that he needed to step back to understand the situation he was involved in. The answer Charles expected was exactly what he wanted to elaborate.

In the past, during their studies and afterwards as business partners, they had often used this method to find what they were searching; William always asked the good questions and, listening to Charles’ ramblings, he usually found out the core of the solution. Charles was in charge of the creativity, William of the building around. The difference there was that Charles was asking the good question and William had to answer it.

On the verge of starting, the latter tried to duck anyway. "You sure you don’t want to start?"

Charles’ smile grew even wider. "Nope… I’m sure you don’t care two straws anyway about Jane and I, while I’m really interested to know about Elizabeth and you."

Heaving a deep sigh, William moved to enter the building. "Okay, but let’s do that inside."

Settling on some armchairs in the lobby, he waited until Charles was seated. "Well, to make a long story short, we thoroughly quarrelled then apologised while at the bar; then, as Charlotte was unwell, I walked Elizabeth back to her car; I prevented her from being hit by a car by grabbing her and once I was holding her… Well… Things got out of hand quite quickly…"

Charles was expecting something like that; what he wanted to know was why his usually so retrained friend had changed so drastically from his usual behaviour. "Up to the point where you spent the night with her? I thought every dancer was a slut and that you weren’t interested at all! You used to be not so whimsical," he ended in a chuckle.

William winced, embarrassed. "I might have been somewhat narrow-minded on that one… It took me a harsh tongue-lashing from Elizabeth and a gentler one from Richard before I was able to understand it, though. She’s amazing you know… She had heard my nasty comment and had recognised me very soon after meeting us, and yet, she never cowered; she entered the battle head on! And she’s smart, funny and cares a lot for her loved ones." His eyes showed his admiration for his newfound lover. "As for being easy, I’m now more than convinced that it’s not the case."

"So Jane told me!"

"Ah… you talked about… us?" William dearly wanted to hear Jane’s opinion but would not ask.

Charles saw the untold question in his friend’s eyes and teased him a little. "Actually, we talked about Elizabeth and you when you were probably still arguing!"

William didn’t understand his friend’s meaning. "We’ve not argued since yesterday evening!"

"That’s what I mean! I understood that Elizabeth was the dancer that had bewitched you before Jane and I…" he blushed, "before we reached my room; and that’s also then that Jane told me they had heard us – well you, actually – before the show started…"

William remained silent for a moment, his head downcast. "I’m still bewitched you know… There’s some kind of magic around her… Even now, she’s not here and I can feel the spell!"

Charles was nodding thoughtfully. "I know what you mean…" After a pause, he went on, more inquisitive: "So what’s next?"

His friend’s head snapped up. "For Elizabeth and I?"

"No, for Prince Charles and Camilla Parker-Bowles!" Charles was enjoying being, for once, the confident one.

"On the short term, if Jane agrees, I won’t need my hotel room for the remaining of our trip…" William paused on seeing Charles’ smile becoming even broader.

"It will be like old times! You and I roommates…"

William chuckled. "Well, don’t get offended if I spend less time with you than then!"

"I’m glad you see it that way too!" Charles’ laugh was so loud that he drew the attention of the passing people.

After a while, William resumed his answer. "I’d also like to delay my return until Sunday but Mrs. Reynolds is not staying for the week-end and I don’t want to leave Georgie alone; at least I’ll delay it until Saturday morning, Elizabeth’s day off is Friday this week. After that… we haven’t talked about it… I don’t know if she’d like a cross-Channel relationship; I don’t know if I can deal with her job; I don’t know if I can stop thinking about her… I don’t know!" He shrugged. "I guess we’ll have to find answers to these questions."

Charles was nodding but those concerns didn’t seem to be his.

"And what about you?" asked his friend.

"There’re far fewer question marks for Jane and I!" Charles’ features expressed confident amazement. "Jane’s day off is tomorrow, we’ll go and buy an engagement ring then; I will definitely remain until Sunday evening; I will do my best to convince you that I should stay in Paris for the first months of the subsidiary here; Jane’s going to resign; we’ll get married in Hertfordshire around February and you’ll be my best-man; we’ll move back to London when it will work for both of us, probably in the spring."

William’s eyes were wide, "I beg your pardon?"

Charles was nervously nibbling his lower lip. "Which part did you miss?"

"The part where you have doubts, the part where you ask for my opinion, the part where you take your time and don’t rush in an unexpected future!"

Charles’ tone was very serious when he replied. "I have no doubts; I’ve met my soul mate; why should I hesitate? She’s amazing too! She’s smart and funny and hot. I love her; she loves me. It’s as simple as that!"

"Are you sure you’re not mistaking lust for love?" William was not condemning; he was jealous of his friend’s certainty but also didn’t want him to make a wrong decision. Charles’ steady voice convinced him more than his next words.

"Oh, I’m certainly in lust; but there’s so much more… And as Jane has agreed to all this, it must be our destiny."

The pair remained silent for a moment. Then Charles looked at his watch and startling William, informed him that it was time to go.

Once they had got their visitor badges, they entered the lift. Only then did the tall dark gentleman address his friend. "Well, Charles, I wish you every happiness. I’ll be delighted and honoured to stand up with you!"

Charles thankfully smiled; he took the offered hand and shook it vigorously. Had they not been in such a public place, he would have engulfed his friend in a big bear hug.

Jane & Elizabeth

"Oh, you’re sleeping?"

Elizabeth’s eyes eventually focused on her sister. "I was sleeping," she yawned.

"Not enough sleep last night?" Jane’s lips tugged upwards; she sat on her sister’s bed.

"Not by far… Not that I regret it, though!" she replied with a wicked smile. "But what about you?"

A becoming blush invaded Jane’s face. She replied dreamily: "O, Lizzy, so much has happened!" She paused and seemed to collect her thoughts. "But we’ll talk about me later, you already know what matters.I don’t have the slightest idea how William Darcy, the connard, ended being with you this morning… You were here I suppose?"

Her sister nodded but remained silent.

"Lizzy, tell me! It’s not like you to sleep around and you abhor the man… I don’t understand! What happened?"

Elizabeth drew a deep breath in. "I don’t abhor him… Not at all… I quite like him actually… And he’s so yummy!"

"So you decided to help yourself to his yumminess? Especially since he already thought you were easy? And you went for a one-night-stand?" Jane was failing to understand her sister.

The brown curls were moving from right to left. "No Jane… We’re at least together for the next two nights, and here, too; that is, if you agree…"

"He’s that good?" Jane’s eyes were smiling.

Elizabeth flushed forcefully. "Oh that, he is! But it’s not the only reason…" She giggled. "Actually, while you were somewhere else…" she sent her sister a meaningful look, "Char and I came to understand some of his behaviour." She went on, telling William’s sister’s sad story.

Jane’s eyes expressed her compassion. "It’s not wholly rational but who can be after such a trial!"

"And when you add the kindness he shows for his sister’s friend, or the gentlemanliness that made him play hard to get – although I knew for sure he wanted it as badly as I did – it makes him a handsome prospect; one I had no wish to resist!"

"And so you lured him here?"

Without any shame, her sister replied affirmatively. "And I plan to keep him for a while!"

"Are you that serious about him? Shall we make it a double wedding?"

"What?" Elizabeth sat up in bed.

"Lizzy, how many time did Mummy tell you not to say ‘what’ but ‘pardon’?" Jane faked the scolding.

"Jane, stop it! You said the word ‘wedding’, did you not?"

Jane nodded.

"You are that serious?"

Jane nodded anew.

"You as in ‘you Jane’ or you as in ‘you Jane and he Charles’?"

"As in ‘he and I’" Jane replied softly.

"Maybe you should spill it all?" Elizabeth asked, no maybe in her tone.

Jane agreed and told her sister the plans Charles and she had made. Her happiness was so obvious that Lizzy never doubted the rightness of the scheme; Jane had, at last, found her way to bliss. She let her sister end her tale and then, in spite of her state of undress, she enfolded her in her arms.

"Jane, I’m so happy for you. And Mummy will be ecstatic!" she teasingly said, trying to hide the powerful emotions coursing through her.

Jane backed up a little and poured her eyes in her sister’s. "I could be even happier, Lizzy, if you consented to be my maid of honour."

"Of course, Jane. I will most happily stand up with you!" A single tear escaped her eye.

"Thank you, Lizzy." The sisters smiled to each other through their tears.

"Lizzy, you managed to turn the table and have me talk while we were having a very interesting conversation about you and William…"

The sisters were now having a tea in their living room. Elizabeth had showered and dressed; she felt better prepared to try and voice what she thought she had with Will and what she wanted to have. She took a sip, searching for the right words.

"I believe you asked me about the seriousness of my relationship with William, didn’t you?" Jane nodded. "I don’t know how serious I am and I don’t know how serious he is either… What I know is that we’ve both agreed to enjoy these few days together and to draw conclusions afterwards. I don’t even know when he goes back to London… Having a long distance relationship means a lot of trust and a lot of affection; I’m not sure we’ll have got that far when he leaves." She shrugged.

"But so far, you seem quite taken with him."

"I am! But since making up after last night quarrel, we’ve avoided every dangerous topic. I have no intention to quit for the moment and I’m sure he’s quite averse to the idea of his girlfriend’s working as a hot dancer. I have no intention of moving back to the UK for the moment and I’m sure he can’t imagine living in such an unrefined country. We’ll have to deal with these questions if we want to enter the long-term relationship world; I’m not sure we’ll be able to…"

Jane pondered her sister’s words. "But are you willing to compromise? Do you think it’s worth it?"

To release some of the tension, Elizabeth replied: "Well, some of the things we did last night most certainly are!"

Jane laughed softly. "So you’re in lust?"

Lizzy’s dark eyes rounded in agreement. "I most certainly am. His sheer presence is enough to make me want him… I really dragged him here, you know! Just speaking about it makes me eager to see him."

Her sister’s angelic smile had even widened. "That’s a good beginning… If indeed he’s as amiable as you’ve painted him, it might work."

Elizabeth’s hand took her sister. "Thanks for your wisdom, Jane; what would I do without you?" After a slight pause, she added, "What will I do without you?"

"You’ll have to find someone else, I guess; I could suggest some names…" Jane replied playfully.

"I wonder if he’d be interested," her sister said thoughtfully.

"Qui vivra verra* as Char would say."

Author’s note

* "Who will live will see" or something like that ;-)

Elizabeth & Charlotte

"Allo, Babeth? Salut, c’est Charlotte!"

"Salut, Char! How are you? Do you feel better?"

"Oh yes, don’t worry… A good night sleep, a healthy breakfast in bed, a nap this afternoon and I feel all better."

"I’m worried, Char. It’s not the first time it happens. You know you should see a doctor; I wonder why Ricky hasn’t dragged you to one yet!"

Charlotte laughed. "Oh, he tried… I’ll have a blood analysis soon, but I’m really not worried. I had so many things to do yesterday that I even skipped dinner… And you know I have a low blood pressure; I think that might have been too much."

"Char, you ought to take better care of yourself!"

Her friend just laughed. "Ricky already takes very good care of me! He told me I was not to move one muscle today and that we’d order a pizza tonight."

"You’re so lucky to have found such an attentive boyfriend…" Elizabeth’s envious tone was genuine and very usual for Charlotte.

"Speaking of boyfriend, has Jane reappeared?"

"Oh yes she did! She’s at her dance studio right now so she can’t tell you all that’s happened, but it’s good!"

"Good as in… good?" Elizabeth giggled at imagining Charlotte’s eyebrow raise and fall.

"From what I understood, yes; but also good as in eternal love and wedding march!"

"Non !"

"Yes!"

"Wow! So it was True Love!"

"It appears so! You should see her; she’s glowing… Anyway, I’ll see the two of them together tonight; Charles will stay at our flat until he goes back to London."

"Well, that seems logical… But how will you deal with having a male around?"

Only silence answered her. "Babeth? T’es encore là ?"

"Oui, oui. Sorry…"

"What is it, Babeth? Are you jealous?"

"Nope… I have no reason to be…" she replied, embarrassment thick in her voice.

"Elizabeth Bennet, Qu’est ce qui se passe ?"

"Well… Charles won’t be the only male around tonight…"

"Quoi ?"

"Don’t say quoi, say comment." Elizabeth replied playfully to hide her embarrassment.

"That’s quite enough, Miss Bennet; you stop teasing and spill it all now or I…"

"Or you what? Remember, Ricky forbade you to move a muscle!"

Charlotte was now whining on the phone, "S’il te plait, Babeth… Who is he? Do I know him? When did you meet him?"

Elizabeth’s heart was pounding in her chest; she had managed to get away with it quite easily with Jane but her sister was a pure soul and very newly head-over-heels herself; but she knew explaining it to Charlotte, matter-of-fact Charlotte, no-nonsense Charlotte, would be another matter entirely. A straight-on approach was probably the best she could imagine.

"You know him, I met him yesterday, his name is William Darcy."

There was a blank on the phone. Elizabeth asked tentatively: "Charlotte?"

"Babeth, what will exactly be doing William at your flat tonight?"

"Exactly, I cannot tell, we seem to be quite creative…" she replied, giggling.

Charlotte was still too astounded to giggle back. "So, from the poste d’observation, you had found him that attractive?"

"O, he is the hottest man I’ve ever met but it’s not merely that… From the time we overheard the reason for his incivility and his apologising, he started showing his true character. And you know, Char, he’s as perfect as Richard’s always made him out to be." Elizabeth went on, describing what had happened and how dreamy her night and morning had been.

"So he’ll be living with you until he goes back, and then?"

"What is it with you and Jane? You’re most happily settled so you want it for everyone around you?" she asked, vindictively. "I don’t know what’s going to happen; we’ve only spent one night together and managed to argue for half of it… I’m not impulsive, and I don’t think he is either. What I know is that I’ve had some magical moments with him and that, after a tough beginning, I’ve discovered a caring, intelligent and funny gentleman. A real gentleman, you know? I had to use all my skills to convince him to… That’s enough that I’m willing to try for something…"

"Excuse-moi, Ma Biche, I didn’t want to upset you… But it’s so unlike you and you still have so much to entangle before you… I just don’t want you to break your heart over him. Even Ricky was upset about his cousin’s behaviour when we got home; I don’t know how trustworthy William is!"

"It’s okay; I understand. I just want to take it one step at a time."

"And that’s probably the best way!"

"Thanks, Char. So I’ll see you tomorrow?"

"Yes, I’ll be at the dance studio at 11:00."

"Jane and I will be there too. Ciao!"

"Salut Babeth !"

Charlotte & Richard

"Hi Honey!"

"Oh Mon Coeur, t’es déjà là ?"

"As you can see…"

"Hey, I didn’t get my kiss… What are you doing in the kitchen?"

"I’m putting our dinner in the fridge."

"You already bought the pizza and you put it in the fridge?" Charlotte’s tone was doubtful.

"I had another idea… How was your day?"

"Very quiet with a huge surprise!"

"A surprise?" Richard was alarmed; she couldn’t have guessed what he had planned for her, could she? He went in the living room where Charlotte was shutting down the computer. "A good or a bad one?" he asked, turning the desk armchair around and bending to give her the asked-for good-evening kiss.

A few moments later, he had made her stand up and was thoroughly enjoying the mouth of the most important lady of his life. When enfolded in his arms, she gasped for air, she asked: "What is it you asked?"

"Never mind!" He let a trail of kisses down her throat. "You know what? I feel like taking a hot bath with you right now…"

"Hmm…"

"Is that a ‘yes’?"

"Hmm, it is!"

"Ricky! Qu’est ce que tu fais? I thought it was a twofer!" Charlotte had lit the bathroom with some candles and lay relaxed in the hot foaming water. "I haven’t told you about the surprise… Believe me, you’re gonna like it!"

After putting the gratin de ravioles and the filet mignon à la graine de moutarde he had bought at Flo to reheat slowly in the oven, Richard laid a table de fête and popped open the champagne bottle. He quickly undressed himself and entered the bathroom, two full flutes in his hand.

"Here I am, Honey… I’m sorry."

"Hey… what are we celebrating?" Charlotte’s face was rosy with the heat and her brown eyes shone with pleasure. Richard wondered idly how she could be so disappointed about them; he so easily drowned in them…

"Your surprise, maybe?" He was sure now she had no idea about what was about to happen to her – indeed, how could she? He handed her the glasses and entered the tub behind her. They clanged their flutes and he enjoyed the feeling of the soft skin of her back against his front. "So tell me…"

"Actually, there are two; a small surprise and a huge one. The small one is that, from what Babeth told me, Jane and Charles have already talked about marriage! Imagine this, they’ve met less than twenty-four hours ago! How silly is that?"

"Well, I don’t know if it’s silly but it is very Bing-like. That guy works on instincts and it usually serves him well… You’re right, though, it’s very surprising on Jane’s side; then, Charles can be really convincing when he wishes."

"Well, Babeth wouldn’t tell me much more so I’ll have to wait until tomorrow to hear the full tale; and so will you!" Charlotte giggled as Richard’s fingers started tickling her side. "Stop it or you won’t hear the huge surprise."

He had started kissing the skin under her ear. "Is it really worth it? I had something else in mind, right now…" he said, his fingers now making their way to one of her small breasts under the foam.

"Hmm… I must say that your ‘something else’ seems pretty interesting; but you’ll be really astonished by what Babeth said to me after her Jane’s news."

Something in his lover’s tone made him pause. As much as he liked Babeth and Jane, he wanted this night to be theirs; yet Charlotte wouldn’t insist so much if it wasn’t really good.

"Okay, tell me!"

She smiled, "You’re still having dinner with William tomorrow night?"

He frowned. "I suppose, yes, why?"

"You might talk to him about his new girlfriend, then!" She laughed inwardly; he felt her internal chuckles against his torso.

"His new girlfriend? Babeth told you about Will’s new girlfriend?"

"Hmm" Charlotte was enjoying herself. She knew Richard was grasping the truth but couldn’t really believe it.

After a while, he went on. "So he misbehaved, after all? And she let him?" His tone was as astounded as she expected it to be.

"She told me she did more than letting him; apparently he was determined to play the gentleman, but she didn’t allow him, she brought him back to Rueil!"

"That’s our Babeth! She’s strong-minded and she usually gets what she wants," he replied thoughtfully. "Well, that was unexpected! And is it supposed to go on?"

"It seems to be still an open question. He and Charles are staying in Jane’s and Babeth’s flat until they go back to London. From what I understood, they haven’t talked about their future beyond this point. It could be an interesting topic of conversation for the two of you!"

Richard was pondering about his cousin’s behaviour; her last words made him react. He playfully kissed the side of her lips and replied. "You little prying minx… If he wants to share, I’ll listen but I won’t ask, I warn you!"

She pouted and turned her head so that he could only see her hair. He chuckled and renewed his tickling. "Hey… We guys don’t gossip like you Chicks! It’s nothing personal…"

She giggled then let a sigh out as his hand left her ribs to brush her navel. She turned her head the other way round; she tilted it a little to allow her teeth to play with Richard’s ear then whispered. "Tell me, do you remember what was your ‘something else’?"

From light, his hand’s touch became more insistent and she felt it slid downwards. He put his flute on the side of the tub and his now free hand dove into the foam to encounter the side of a breast. He gently brushed the soft skin, coming closer around her nipple. His other hand had started to play with the edge of her lips and she arched up along his body to allow him better access.

She felt his cock hard against the small of her back and her wriggles made him harden further. She discarded her glass and placed her hands on his, either to drive him to a softer spot or only to participate in his caresses. If Richard complied with her wish to deepen them around her core, he refused to come faster to her tit, creating in her loins an even greater craving and in her throat louder moans. When at last he pinched the raspberry-coloured prominence, he felt her body stiffen and she exhaled a deep groan. Her eyes were closed; in the soft glow of the candles, his were drinking in the sight of her body following the dance his hands led, under the disappearing foam.

Even after about half a year, Richard still couldn’t believe Charlotte was his; it was one of his reasons for wishing to marry her. Pleasuring her was another way of making it real and he relished in her cries and even in the bruises he sometimes caught. Utterly focused on his love’s enjoyment, he took his time and played as skilfully as he could with her lean form, while the splashes out of the tub were becoming more and more frequent. He felt an ever-growing urge in his shaft but he’d rather come in the now tepid water than shorten her satisfaction.

Charlotte’s body was now frantically swaying under his ministrations; her groans were feral and her nails buried on the back of his hands. Her release came abruptly, a long uninterrupted cry preceding a flight of all her strength.

He felt her grasp on his hands vanish; her body became limp on his, her breathing slowly returning to its normal pace. He kissed tenderly on her temple and whispered in her ear: "I love you, Charlotte."

Charlotte slowly opened her eyes; the wetness he saw in them belied the unreservedly satisfied smile on her lips. "Je t’aime, Richard."

He tried to reach one tear that had popped out of the corner of her eye with his tongue but, due to his position, he didn’t manage to do it and only reached her cheek. She giggled and tried to turn in his embrace, feeling his cock throb with her movement. Even more water came out of the tub and he faked discontent.

"Charlotte, there will soon be more water on the floor than in the tub! Behave, please."

She sat up, faced him and impishly replied: "I’m no good at holding my breath; the less water, the better!"

Smiling, he stood up and held her his hand. "The water is cold anyway…"

She took it and standing up, she made a small pause to lick his shaft from base to tip. Richard only let out a heavy sigh and enfolded her in a strong embrace, pressing her flat stomach against the erected part of his while her small pear-shaped breasts crashed against his well-drawn chest. He kissed her hard and she opened her mouth to allow his tongue to thrust into her body the same way his sex would soon. She had freed her hand and was stroking his firm buttocks; a shiver ran though his spine.

"Are you cold, Mon coeur?" Charlotte panted.

He chuckled. "No, My love. But I think we should rinse ourselves and get out of here anyway!"

This practical part of the bath was efficiently and quickly done and, her bathrobe already on, Charlotte opened a huge towel to welcome Richard out of the tub. She started to dry him like she used to do to her youngest brother when he had been in the cold Lake Annecy for too long, tip-toeing to stroke his shoulders, then going down with powerful movements on his arms, back and front. When she reached his still hard cock, her stokes became gentle and precise; and although his soft skin was devoid of any humidity soon enough, she carried on. He shrugged out of the towel and she let it fall at their feet, her hands not leaving the place they had been busy around. She leaned up towards him when he cupped her face to draw her closer and their mouths resumed their favourite activity. His kisses were mixed with contented yet hungry sighs; hers were as searching as her fingers were.

When she left his mouth to travel downwards, his fingers lost themselves in her short trim auburn hair. She didn’t stop until, kneeling, she had reached his throbbing sex. As soon as her tongue carried on what she had barely started earlier, she felt his grip tightened and heard him groan. She complied to his mild hand-given order to play harder with him and took him fully in her mouth, one hand still on his buttock, the other playing with his hairs and his balls. With every kiss, lick or nibble, his groans became louder until she felt her head pulled away from him.

Richard fell on his knees and his tongue took the place his shaft had been in a few seconds ago; his kisses seemed almost desperate, as if he was afraid he would never be able to give back all the pleasure she’d given him. His hands had left her hair and roamed all over her body, insisting on the places that made her stiffen or sigh. He felt an utter frustration when he failed to reach for her core although her moans had showed him his intentions had been welcome; he broke their kiss to make them lie on the bath rug. When his fingers went to find the place that had eluded them, she anxiously panted: "Non, je veux ta bite."**

He didn’t notice her use of French, long ago used to her habit to switch back to her mother tongue when her emotions were too heightened, and instead obliged her by placing his legs between hers and thrusting powerfully in her opened body. He answered her groan by retreating to the edge of her core and thrusting anew; and he replayed this sequence as long as he could.

Her cries became louder although she tried to restrain herself by biting her lips; his eyes were devouring her given-up-to-passion face. She felt his rhythm suddenly break and quicken significantly; she opened her legs even wider and tilted her hips up, thus enjoying even more the already burning fire. Afterwards, she just felt, unable to understand, to wish or to think; she felt her core tighten around his climax; and she let the wave crash deep inside of her.

"Now, Love, you must close your eyes and swear to keep them closed."

After coming back to Earth, Richard had led Charlotte to their bedroom where he had quickly put on his PJs and asked her to dress for the night and then to wait for him. When he had come back, she had been seated on the bed, looking happily yet expectantly at him. She stood up.

"What’s this mystery about? It’s not my birthday… I was tired yesterday but, believe me, you’ve already more than cheered me up!" she said with a teasing smile.

"Are you going to obey me or not?"

"Obey me? Mon coeur, we’re in 2002!" she replied, closing her eyes nonetheless.

"That’s my girl!" answered Richard, placing his arm around her waist and taking her hand in his.

She felt him lead her to the living room. Deprived of one of her senses, her others became more accurate. She easily heard her favourite Dusty Springfield CD playing; she smell an enticing odour of fine cuisine; behind her closed eyelids, she saw that the light was soft. Richard had obviously gone beyond everything he had already done – not that she could complain in that regard. Something in the air seemed different, more serious and more solemn than usual. She was not used to this silent Ricky and somehow it added to the formality of the moment. Her heartbeat quickened and deepened; she felt her throat tighten and gulped consciously, her eyes still tightly closed. They stopped; his hands released her; he moved around her; she heard him gulp as uneasily as she had a minute before.

"Open your eyes Charlotte."

She took a deep breath, slowly did as bidden and blinked thrice. She saw but didn’t notice that the soft glow was due to two candles placed on the handsomely set-for-two table. What she did notice was Richard on one knee in front of her, a small jewel box opened in his hand and a solitaire awaiting in it.

Charlotte took several ragged breaths; her heart was pounding in her ribs and her knees became weak.

Richard’s gaze was earnest and loving; his emotion, visible by the heavy ebb and flow of his chest, didn’t pierce in his voice when he steadily said: "Charlotte, I love you; I’ll always love you; I want the world to know that I’m yours, forever. Charlotte, will you marry me?"

She had let one single tear fall after his proving his love for her with his body; his proving it with the gift of his future incited her to shed much more. Before she broke down, she made him stand up and leaned up against him. Her eyes in his, she replied against his mouth.

"Oui je veux t’épouser. Je t’aime tellement, Richard!"

While her tears started to pour and before they sealed their agreement with a deeply loving kiss, he pulled back quickly to slide the ring on her left ring finger. She watched him and her heart-felt happiness shone through her smile. Then he cupped her face, his thumbs dried the paths the sobs had followed on her cheeks and his lips sought hers to share physically the bliss their hearts already knew.

Author’s notes

** "No, I want your dick."

William & Richard

"So, are you satisfied with your stay, so far?"

"Very!"

William waited for the waiter to take the order of their pre-dinner beers before elaborating his reply to his cousin. They were settled in Le café latéral a fashionable brasserie close by the Arc de Triomphe, for their scheduled dinner. William challenged Richard for any comment when he asked for a Seize, the latter merely raising an eyebrow. The fair gentleman was wondering once again about what he ought to reveal he knew. He had just spoken to Charlotte briefly on the phone during the day and she had told him that, first, she had informed Jane and Babeth about their engagement, and second, Charles had spent his first night in Rueil and William his second. But, if women’s gossip was necessary – or how could men be aware of what had to be known? – it was also unmanly. He resolved on waiting to see how the evening would go on.

"Yes, very satisfied. We’ve found the offices, a good part of the staff is already hired, furniture and supplies are ordered… and it’s only Thursday! Nope, I’m very satisfied!"

"Well, that’s good news. Maybe you’ll be able to go back to London earlier tomorrow?"

William looked up at his cousin. He thought he could see a hint of mischief in his eyes and decided to take the bait. He was almost certain Richard knew about his relationship with Elizabeth; Charlotte had not been working the night before but that kind of news travelled fast. Hell, even he knew about Rich’s engagement! And truth be told, he was interested in hearing his cousin’s opinion on the matter, and, maybe, getting some advice. What had been a jest two nights before – how he would handle his girlfriend being a dancer in the Crazy Horse – was now an existing situation that had to be dealt with. He nevertheless decided to play the game for a while.

"Actually, I won’t. I have a dinner engagement tomorrow night."

Richard smiled openly. "You do?" he asked, his eyebrow back in its upward position. "Another male-bonding session with Bing?"

William laughed. "Bing? The one and only Charles Bingley who’s been choosing an engagement ring with his new fiancée this very afternoon? The one who’s somewhere, with his new fiancée in a fancy restaurant you told him about, celebrating their engagement?"

"And you should try it, too! Yves Quintard*3 is a very good address!" Richard chuckled back.

"Anyway. No, I don’t have a date with Bing. And as you know exactly who I’m having dinner with, I really don’t see why you’re asking." William’s face showed no anger at being laughed at; Richard had always been the best at that game and he was long used to it.

"Oh, you mean that I happen to know that tomorrow’s Babeth’s day off? And that she has spoken with Charlotte about your… interactions… since Tuesday night?"

"Said Charlotte, who, being your official fiancée since yesterday evening, is entitled to tell you all?" William raised his mug with a wide playful smile of his own.

Richard acknowledged his cousin’s point with a bob of his head and clinked his glass against the proffered one.

"To your everlasting happiness, Rich!"

"Thanks Will. I’m sure you’ll find someone who will make you take the plunge." Witnessing a wondering look in his cousin’s eyes, he carried on. "And maybe you already have."

After the waiter left, Richard wondered if his cousin would welcome a resumption of the conversation that had been cut by the untimely arrival of the garçon and his menus; he didn’t do it for long.

"I fear I won’t have time to get to know if she’s the one," William said, slightly dejected.

"So it is a Parisian adventure, nothing more?" Richard’s surprise was not faked; was it his cousin’s wish? It was quite unlikely from what he knew of him, but then, people change. Or Babeth’s? But then, that would appear totally out of character for her too.

"We haven’t talked about this, yet… It’s not that we’ve been talking a lot, anyway!" This was completely false for the time they had spent together before Rueil, and not totally true since then; but William was too unsure of her to be fair.

Richard smiled knowingly.

"But one of my objectives for tomorrow evening is to speak about that. She seems so keen on living in France, and I can’t… I guess we could have an over-the-Channel relationship but it’s not easy to build something on such ground."

"You realise that you mean you want to build something with her, do you?"

"Of course, I do! Who do you think I am? A hungry tourist chasing the locals to satisfy his carnal appetites? I’ve never been and never will!" His tone had heightened; Richard tried to alleviate the tension.

"And it wouldn’t have been smart of you to have a fling with the chosen maid of honour of my future wife!"

William smiled constrictively. "No it wouldn’t!"

"You know Will, if you told her about those feelings of yours, she might be interested!"

"Rich, you’ve known me all your life and you missed 3 months of mine; you know me. How could I speak to her in one dinner when we have a three-day relationship behind us? If only I had a few more days… We haven’t really lived together, I had to wake up early and she was working in the evenings…" His scornful sigh proved to Richard that his cousin’s opinion on her job had not changed a bit.

"Why don’t you stay for the week-end? You can go back Sunday evening; that would allow you to spend some time with her, wouldn’t it?"

William’s new sigh was much deeper than the previous. "I can’t… Mrs. Reynolds is not staying for the week-end and Georgie is still too fragile to be alone in the house." After a while, he added: "I had thought about that, but it’s no use."

Richard frowned and remained silent. Then his face showed he had had an idea. "Will, do you trust me?"

"Of course I do; what a question, Rich!"

"Then, may I use my phone for a few minutes?"

His companion nodded, clearly dumbfounded by his cousin’s attitude; understanding started to dawn on William, when, after dialling a number, Richard said: "Hello, Mother! How are you?" … "Fine, thanks. And Charlotte is fine too." … "Well, two things actually. First, I’d like to know if you’d be willing to visit Annecy in June."

William shook his head, unbelieving of the method chosen by his cousin to announce his future wedding to his mother.

"In fact, it would not be for tourism only… You see, I’d be really happy if you’d lead me along the central aisle of Cathedral St Pierre; that’s the custom in French weddings."

Richard laughed suddenly. "No, Mother, every guest doesn’t have to do it, just the groom."

Richard paused, his brows knitting while he seemed to wait. Then he carried on, hesitantly. "Mother?" … "Mother, are you sniffing?" On hearing her answer, he smiled tenderly. "Of course, you’re allowed to shed one tear or two; but please do it out of Father’s sight or I’ll hear about it!"

He let her pour out her happiness and her discontent at not knowing the future bride, replying that they had planned a trip to Derbyshire two weeks hence. William felt that the conversation had shifted when Richard replied.

"No, the second is not so overwhelming and I hope quite pleasing to you too. Actually, Will and I bumped into each other earlier this week!" … "Yes, William Darcy, your nephew…" He laughed and replied: "Well, I’ll let you tell this to him yourself, he’s right here with me!"

His companion nodded a faked unwillingness to comply with this order.

"Well, the pleasing part is that I have a favour to ask you; we’ve both been working and we hadn’t had much time to catch up with each other and I suggested that he stay for the week-end." … "Yes, Mother, quite smart of me, isn’t it?" … "Anyway, Will told me he can’t as Georgie would be left alone; and that’s where I thought you might help. I think it’s high time you have a pre-Christmas shopping party and Georgie may be happy to join you; you could stay at Will’s and Will could stay in Paris! So what do you think?"

Richard’s nods proved that the scheme seemed agreeable to his mother. After saying that his cousin wished to say her a word or two, he sent his kisses, promised to deliver hers to Charlotte and handed the phone to his companion.

"Hello Aunt Kathleen, I heard you’re well."

With a smile, he replied to her answer. "Well, that’s good news! Once the shock is over, I’m sure you’ll be even better than before."

His smile broadened on hearing what appeared to be a very long question.

"Yes, I’ve met her; she is charming and they are wonderful together." … "Oh, yes, her English is astounding, you won’t have to freshen your French up; I sure didn’t have to!"

He settled back in his chair while the waiter was placing his salade de chèvre chaud in front of him.

"Of course I wouldn’t mind but I have to check with Georgiana first. I’ll call her right away and she’ll call you back, okay?" … "Thanks so much, Aunt, you do me a great favour."

Richard held his wine glass above the centre of the table.

"Oh I will; and I’ll tell you everything about Charlotte." Seeing his cousin shaking his head with a threatening glint in his eyes, he added. "Well, everything I’m allowed to anyway!"

He ended the phone call and tossed his glass against Richard’s. "Thanks, Rich. I owe you!"

"And you’re not finished, believe me… If you spill on me, I’ll have much to retaliate!" Richard’s smile was contagious and William only drank his glass in answer.

"Will," Richard had finished his entrecôte maître d’hotel - which he had ordered rare, to William’s obvious disgust – and had waited for his cousin to finish his sôle meunière, before asking the question that had lingered in his mind since the beginning of the meal. "I’m assuming that if you think about a lasting relationship with Babeth, you’ve found a way to deal with her work; am I right?"

William drained the remaining of his glass. He took a deep breath and replied: "I have an answer to that issue; Elizabeth’s agreement on it is yet doubtful."

Richard leaned over the table. "You can’t ask anything of the kind to her. She’s been your lover for two days; it’s hardly enough for asking her to change her nail paint colour, let alone request her to leave her job!"

William settled back in his chair and smiled derisively, "I know, that’s why I’m doubtful on her agreement."

"So you have no solution?"

William quitted the faked uncaring posture and leaned earnestly towards his cousin. "I can’t bear the thought of her exposing her body every night… I feel like it’s mine, I should be the only one to see it!"

Richard noted the possessiveness in Will’s words, convinced that his cousin didn’t. He didn’t know how to help; the same question had plagued him for several months before he had made up his mind to wait until she decided to quit. Somehow he knew telling this to William wouldn’t bring any relief. He waited until his still-deep-in-thoughts cousin went on.

"She confessed that she had made love to me during her solo, what if she were to do that again? What if another man was as convincing as Bing and managed to meet her? I couldn’t stand it!"

"But Will, it never happens… I mean, the waiters aren’t allowed to deliver that kind of message; Bing was extremely lucky to manage to convince one. And as for Babeth to ‘make love’ with anyone, believe me, it’s the first time I’ve heard that about her! The question here is more a question of trust than any other. Whatever her job could be, she would meet other men; you’ve got no reason to think she’s a cheater – and neither have I."

"Yes but she wouldn’t meet them being almost completely naked." William saw sense in Richard’s words but the matter was so touchy that he needed more than that to be convinced.

"Will, be honest. The dancers don’t meet anyone while naked. And once they’re dressed and have taken off their wigs and make-up, they’re almost un-recognisable. I’m sure you didn’t know Babeth was Lili Bright until she told you."

This was not strictly true but very close to the truth anyway. Even Bing had confessed that the rose had told him Jane was his Angel. He only hmmed in reply.

"I don’t have any solution to your dilemma; only you and her will be able to address it, if you’re both willing to compromise. If both of you want to try and build something together – and I can see you do – you’ll find your answer. Please just keep in mind she’s not a slut and she deserves your confidence. You know, her job is not the only obstacle before you. I’m sure she won’t agree to leave France, she still has some work to do on her thèse and she’s now almost as Frenchy as Charlotte. If you are so set against moving here, it will also be a big issue."

"Actually, I may have an answer for that… With our new subsidiary here, I may be able to work more from Paris in a few months… But why should I compromise on everything?"

"Nobody’s asked you to do this, so far; only Babeth could! You really have to talk to her."

William took a heavy breath and a small smile lightened his so far quite brooding features. "I will, Father!"

"Well, you won’t listen to my mother; someone has to knock some sense in your foggy head, no?" Richard smiled back.

"Will I ever manage to repay you for your wisdom?" William asked playfully.

Richard’s dubious expression was soon followed by an even broader smile.

"Seriously, Rich; thanks."

"You’ll thank me once it’s worked."

Author’s note

*3 Yves Quintard, 99 rue Blomet, Paris – a very small but very cosy and with great food restaurant.

William & Georgiana

William paid the taxi and absentmindedly opened the door. He had been reliving his dealings with Elizabeth since the train had left the Gare du Nord, and was barely finishing their parting scene when the taxi had slowed down in Holland Park Avenue.

"Thank you for taking me to the station."

He had felt her bit her lower lip and shared her unease; unfortunately, they wouldn’t be able to kiss for a few weeks.

He then remembered proudly her utter astonishment when he had addressed her afterwards.

"Lili," he had said, and her head had jerked up at him calling her with her Crazy Horse name. They had come to a truce of some sort on this topic; he had stopped cringing every time she had mentioned her job, and she had stopped professing she would never quit it.

Drawing his head to hers, she had whispered, "I don’t. It will be ours," and he had matched her sadness in an urgent kiss.

He realised he was standing in the drizzle, facing his front door and resolved on entering. He was about to turn the key in the lock when the door opened, his sister holding the handle.

"Georgie, I’d thought you’d be fast asleep!" he said, bending towards her to place a peck on her cheek.

"Will, I’m not exactly a toddler any more. Ten pm is not so late, although Aunt Kathleen has retired long ago. And even if she could wait until tomorrow to hear everything about your trip, I couldn’t!"

Her brother smiled at her enthusiasm; she may not be a toddler but she was still a full of life teenage, and that was a cheering sight. "Okay, but let me get my coat off first."

"Thanks for the tea, Georgie."

"You’re welcome. Now spill it all!" Georgiana’s energy bubbled out of her.

He settled comfortably in his armchair; in front of the fire his sister had built and maintained. "Spill? Spill what?"

"Paris, Richard, Charlotte, what you did, what you saw… everything!"

Will chuckled. "Well, Paris was rainy; Bing and I have found the place of our future French office; I met Richard by chance and was introduced to his new fiancée."

"And how is Charlotte?" William tried to answer all his sister’s questions, only keeping for himself the name of the place she worked for.

"And what did you do this week-end? You had time to visit something, where did you go?"

"I tasted Richard’s cooking on Saturday night… Quite good actually, this French fiancée of his has had some good influence on him!"

"And where did you go? Did you go to the Musée d’Orsay? Have you been able to get a ticket for the Picasso and Matisse show at the Grand Palais?"

"Nope, no museum… You know I only enter one when you drag me in!" he replied teasingly. "Actually, I haven’t been in Paris much; two of Charlotte’s friends live in a small town nearby where Napoleon Bonaparte’s first wife lived; we spent some time touring the city." He tried to keep an open mien but felt his ears redden; touring the city had not been his sole occupation in Rueil – and he really couldn’t tell his sister what other things he had done there.

Georgie was intrigued by this reply. Why would her brother be interested in the Napoleonic History of a small town of the Parisian suburb? She tried a detached tone. "And what did you and Rich think of it?"

Will’s attention seemed focused on his cup of tea. "Actually, Rich was not with us; I was with Bing."

His sister gave up on faked indifference. "You and Charles toured a small city by yourselves? William Darcy, stop thinking I’m stupid! I want precise answers to the following questions. Who are those friends? How well do you know them? What are their names? I want to know everything."

William stared long at her sister. She was not kidding; she really wanted him to tell her everything about Jane and Elizabeth, although she had to know his love life was involved.

She asked warily, "What? Wouldn’t you want me to do the same? Wouldn’t you feel betrayed if I were trying to fool you with some flimsy excuse?" Although her readiness to fight was evident enough, he didn’t want to yield – not yet anyway.

"There’s a difference, Honey; I’m your guardian and you’re underage."

He saw her sister stiffen, then she exhaled slowly and locked her eyes in his. Her tone was poised when she answered: "You’re right, it’s a difference. But I’m sure your concern would come out of love more than of sense of responsibility and I do love you, as much as you love me."

He gulped. When had his little sister become such a wise young lady? She was seventeen; she wasn’t supposed to be so smart and so eloquent! He got up and went to sit by her side on the sofa; he placed his arm on her shoulder and kissed her temple.

"You’re right, Georgie; I love you and I trust you. Charles and I met Jane and Elizabeth when we met Charlotte. They’re… co-workers…For Jane and Charles, it was love at first sight; they’re already engaged." He stated, matter-of-factly.

"Engaged? What is it with those French girls that Englishmen can’t resist them? Engaged? I can’t believe it!"

"Well, we are talking about Charles Bingley, …" he replied in a smile. "And Jane and Elizabeth aren’t French, they’re English."

"Both of them?"

"They’re sisters; Jane and Elizabeth Bennet from Hertfordshire."

After a pause, as his brother seemed unwilling to carry on, she resumed their conversation. "So Charles was with Jane and so you were paired up with Elizabeth."

She felt him nod against the side of her hair. "And did you like it?"

Again the same light movement; still no words.

"And they live in Paris?"

"In Rueil, actually." Those words reminded him that nothing had been settled on any move across the Channel either; she had shown him her town, what she liked in France and he had conceded that it was not as bad as he had thought it was.

"Will I meet her?"

His sister’s voice brought him back to the present. "Sorry?"

"Elizabeth, will I meet her soon?"

He paused. This meeting was already planned and at first he had quite dreaded it; his little sister did not usually meet his girlfriends – not that he had had a lot lately. Then, as the week-end had gone on, he had been more and more convinced that Elizabeth was not just his new ladylove; and the thought of their meeting had become almost pleasing.

"You should. Jane has planned an engagement party on Christmas day, we’re invited."

"I look forward to meeting her."

"So do I, Georgie, so do I!"

Georgiana Darcy outright laughed at her brother. "You’ve already met her! Maybe you look forward seeing her sooner than Christmas day…"

William grinned, caught in his blunder. "I plan on spending a week-end in Paris before Christmas to tell you the truth."

"So you’re serious?" Georgie was surprised and flattered at her brother opening his heart so totally. She snuggled against him.

Before replying, he let his mind wander once again. All in all, Elizabeth and he had tried and managed to share some things; this allowed them to have a more hopeful look on a potential future for them as a couple. "As much as someone with a normal brain can be after a week acquaintance."

She giggled, "You mean someone who is not Charles Bingley."

They remained quiet, side-by-side, gazing at the flames. She felt so well, so secure, in such a trustful relationship that she decided to open her heart as well.

"I’d like to go to Paris."

William felt embarrassed. "Erh… It’s too soon, Honey…" He kissed her temple, as if to apologise.

"Oh no… I meant that I’d like to live in Paris." She felt her brother stiffen and rushed in her explanation. "After my A levels, I want to go and study in Paris. You know how French is what I like most… I’d like to go to La Sorbonne."

To her utter bewilderment, she felt her brother’s chest shake by what she was almost sure was deep laughter.

"Will?"

Once his hilarity fit had receded, he replied: "Elizabeth went to study in La Sorbonne five years ago, what is it with those English women I care for all wanting to study in France?"

He had meant to mimic his sister’s earlier remark but, once said, he felt it right. This was a wholly unexpected development but one that brought light in his not so bright plans for the future, one he would have to speak to his Lili soon.

La Clusaz

"Come on, Babeth, it’s not so hard!"

"For someone like you who’s young and has skied every year of her life, maybe; for someone as old and unused to those boards under my feet as I am, it’s a totally different matter."

"Lili, I know it’s a black slope but La Noire is not often opened, you can’t miss it! Look at this snow… And I swear the scenery is breath-taking."Not that the sight of you in your white ski outfit is not breath-taking; but my little sister is here, his intense look told her, even behind his sunglasses.

She smiled wickedly, answering: "Okay Will, but you go first!" with her voice, and a kind of What about later? with her whole demeanour.

Watching the man who had become so important in her life and his little sister, who now knew everything about her – her employer’s name included – going down the powder snow with swift and graceful movement, Elizabeth once again wondered why the Gods had been so good to her; just watching Will’s back swaying beautifully induced some shameless thoughts in her. The lust affair they had shared four months ago had not vanished; it had deepened into something more tender and intimate, a relationship where both of the partners cared and trusted. They managed to spend at least one week-end a month together; other social occasions – Jane and Charles’ engagement party at Christmas, Charlotte and Richard’s a month later, then Jane and Charles wedding, three weeks before – had allowed them to also be together as a couple in front of their families and friends. She smiled, recalling the way her mother had acted when she had understood that William was as wealthy as he was handsome – even though at the time, she had been horribly ashamed. She also remembered with fondness the way Richard’s parents had received her; Kathleen and Hugh – as she had been told to call them – had first gauged her with care then showed her she would be welcome in whatever role William would choose to let her play, and she would accept. But what had surprised her the most was Georgie’s acceptance of her. She had met her at Jane and Charles’ engagement party, where, as the best man’s sister, she had been invited; and she had sought her as soon as they had arrived. Had she not been informed of Georgie’s past bad experience, she would have only seen a lively yet well-bred teenager – the kind she wished her own youngest sisters were; as it was, Elizabeth had understood that her restrain came from extreme shyness, which she shouldn’t have felt, in such a small and familial gathering. And in spite of her timidity, Georgiana had opened up to her brother’s girlfriend, much to William’s delight and Lizzy’s astonishment. Georgie and she now shared a trustful friendship, being not so far apart in age and with a lot of common points of interest.

A skier turning too close to her and showering her with some snow stirred her up and she resumed her attentive observation of William. He seemed to be racing with his sister and she was glad she had let them go first. He was almost a father to Georgiana, caring but strict, always trying to please her yet willing to make her understand that money was not everything. She would dearly like seeing him with children of his own; Will and a baby, that would be a most fetching sight… Somehow, she couldn’t imagine Will with any children but their own; in fact, the more it went, the less she could imagine her future without him. Jane and Charles’ wedding had been full of emotion for her. Seeing her elder and most beloved sister marry had to be something utterly moving; the fact that, opposite to her on Charles’ side, stood the man who had made her take such extreme, impulsive and eventually wicked actions on their first meeting, the man who seemed to haunt her dreams and every quiet moments of her days, the man from whom parting was becoming more and more difficult, she had almost broke down. That had been her first realisation that she loved him. She had often asked herself the question before but their sexual attraction was so strong that she had dread mistaking lust for love. Then and there, in the church of her childhood, while only purity was in the air, when no desire was burning her insides, she had understood that, indeed, she loved William Darcy.

She didn’t know how deep his affection for her was; she knew he cared, he liked being with her and he always seemed as sad as she when they had to part but no L word had never passed his lips. She was in no hurry, though; their relationship was very satisfying as it was; she was more than ready to wait – until she felt he was ready to hear her profess her love.

A gush of crispy wind made her aware that she had once again lapsed into her Will-filled daydreams. Looking for him, she also saw that he was urging her to come down, his arms and sticks waving in the blue cloudless sky. She smiled, spotted Georgiana further down the slope, adjusted her Raybans and slowly started her way down.

William had been waiting for her for sometime but somehow, he hadn’t been able to catch her attention, she had probably been wondering on the path she would chose to go down. He knew that she didn’t like deep snow and narrow slopes – and La Noire managed to combine both – but he also knew that she was more than able to ski it. She had started skiing five years ago, when Charlotte had dragged her to her parents’ chalet, the very one they were staying in for this week; and her well-trained body had taken to the activity very quickly. She was able to go down any slope, just going more slowly than Georgie and him; and he didn’t tire of contemplating her lean and shapely body while waiting for her to catch up on them.

He was once again relishing the sight when he saw her miss a turn and fall loudly, in a cloud of powder snow. His breath caught, his body tensed, his heart pounded wildly. It seemed to him an eternity before he saw a dark mane full of white spots emerge. He tried to see if she was alright but she was really too far up to be sure; he had to climb up there. He had already taken one ski off when she stood up, weeping the flakes off her hair, glasses and face. She waved at him, flashing him a broad smile – or so he thought –, and retrieving her sticks, she awkwardly turned around to face the slope.

When small white spots invaded his eyes, William understood that he had to stop hyperventilating or Elizabeth would soon have to finish La Noire with him on her back. He forced his breath to calm down and, keeping his eyes on her, he managed to put his ski back on. It frightened him, the power of the terror he had just felt. For God’s sake, she had just fell and she had not even been going fast. It reminded him of the fright he had felt just after Georgie’s ‘accident’ or the car in the Avenue George V; and there, it had been much more deserved, although nothing had really happened either. Still trying to catch his breath, he drank in the sight her, not so far now, while his mind went on. Loving, for him, was an exhausting endeavour; he could never protect enough those he loved; he could never make their life easy enough either. Georgie had often tried to make him understand that she didn’t ask it of him; in her own way, Lili had regularly done just the same.

Wait a minute, I want to protect Lili as much as I do Georgie; talking to her on the phone everyday is the second best thing in my life – my best being listening to Georgie’s day; watching her look for me when I come to pick her up at the Crazy at the beginning of one of our week-ends keeps warming my heart; I love being with her; I love making love to her; I love talking with her; I love putting the dishes in the washing machine with her… His breathing was deep and slow and yet he felt something going on around his lungs, around his heart, to be really accurate.I love her.

He snapped back to reality as the object of his musing materialised in front of him, having stopped just by his up-mount ski. Without thinking, still full of the awareness that had just almost knocked him out, he took her in his arms and, before kissing her hard, he whispered: "I love you."

Her lips were cold and still wet from her fall but that was not what stopped him. Elizabeth’s complete immobility in his arms did stop him. Her lips didn’t kiss him back, they didn’t part, even her hands still held her sticks on the ground. He started to worry.

"Lili? Are you alright?"

She started, backed a little to be able to focus on his eyes and asked inquisitively: "Would you mind repeating that?"

He frowned, now seriously worried. "Elizabeth, are you alright?"

She shook her head, "No, no; what you said before that."

Her behaviour puzzled him until he relived the few last seconds and found out what had, most probably, induced her strange behaviour. His expression softened, a shy smile flourished on his lips. His eyes forcefully anchored in hers, his voice earnest, he repeated:

"I love you, Elizabeth Grace Bennet."

She shot him a dazzling smile and replied, her tone as sincere as his. "I love you, William Henry Darcy."

This time, when he started to kiss her, softly, tenderly, she answered back. His hands cupped her head; his mouth was burning against hers. Her tongue started to taste his lower lip and he thrust his in her now ajar lips. Her sticks discarded, she was holding onto his shoulder then his dark hair, entwining her fingers in his locks, revelling in the love that she now knew existed in his kiss.

They eventually realised they were standing in the middle of a black slope, in broad day light, very probably under Georgiana’s scrutiny, and that there was no way they would be able to come immediately to their usual conclusion of this kind of embrace. Both chuckled, the flush on their cheeks not only due to the exercise or the cold wind. Then, after a renewal of their love vows, they made – at her pace – their way to his frozen sister.

Annecy

"Chers concitoyens, nous sommes réunis aujourd’hui pour célébrer l’union de Richard Dennis Fitzwilliam – excusez mon accent –, né le 16 septembre 1972 à Chesterfield, Grande Bretagne, de nationalité britanique, chef de produit, demeurant 4 rue des Acacias à Paris 17ème, fils de Hugh Fitzwilliam, né le 31 mars 1942 à Chesterfield, propriétaire terrien, et Kathleen Hamblin épouse Fitzwilliam, née le 21 septembre 1943 à Hoddesdon, Grande Bretagne, sans profession avec Charlotte Gabrielle Rachel Lucas, née le 21 mai 1977 à Annecy, de nationalité française, danseuse, demeurant 23 rue Someiller à Annecy, fille de Guillaume Lucas, né le 4 août 1947 à Annecy, notaire, et Martine Thévenet épouse Lucas, née le 28 mai 1948 à La Clusaz, sans profession ; en présence de William Henry Darcy, né le 27 juin 1972 à Londres, Grande Bretagne, de nationalité britanique, chef d’entreprise, demeurant 12 Holland Park Avenue à Londres, Grande-Bretagne, de Matthew Thomas Fitzwilliam, né le 30 août 1969 à Chesterfield, Grande-Bretagne, de nationalité britanique, vétérinaire, demeurant 8 Market Street à Bakewell, Grande-Bretagne, de Elizabeth Grace Bennet, née le 12 avril 1979 à Hertford, Grande-Bretagne, de nationalité britanique, danseuse, demeurant 4 rue du Général Noël à Rueil Malmaison et de Marie Clotilde Caroline Lucas, née le 25 juillet 1981 à Annecy, étudiante, demeurant 23 rue Someiller à Annecy.

Au terme de l’article…"

Sitting on the front row behind the groom and bride, William and Elizabeth exchanged an amused glance; this ceremony in the Town Hall was not very romantic, even though Charlotte was blushing and resplendent in her ivory silk dress and Richard obviously nervous in his three-piece suit, his top hat on his knees. This had nothing to do with the cold and wet gathering they had been involved in four months ago in the Longbourn church. Elizabeth remembered that the bridesmaids had been more numerous and the five of them – Charlotte, her younger sisters and her – had been wearing the same crimson velvet dress, their surroundings had been full of flowers and Rev. Goldings, the very one who had christened the five Bennet daughters, had been officiating. Today, on a warm summer day, due to who the bride’s father was, the mayor himself was officiating the wedding; and it made the ceremony even stuffier. There were some flowers and the red draperies made the room a handsome one, yet something was missing, at least in the maid of honour’s mind. Her attention refocused when, after the mayor had finished his speech about the Code civil articles they were supposed to respect as a wedded couple, everybody stood up; the most endearing moment of this civil wedding was coming.

"Richard Dennis Fitzwilliam, voulez-vous prendre Charlotte Gabrielle Rachel Lucas ici présente pour épouse ?"

"Oui." Richard’s answer was clear and loud, as if getting rid of his hat – in William’s hands, actually – had gave him back the confidence he has shown during the whole preparations.

"Charlotte Gabrielle Rachel Lucas, voulez-vous prendre Richard Dennis Fitzwilliam ici présent pour époux ?"

"Oui." Charlotte’s voice didn’t waver, nor her look that had been squarely placed on her almost husband during the Mayor’s questions.

"En vertu des pouvoirs qui me sont conférés, je vous déclare Mari et Femme. Vous pouvez embrasser la mariée."

While Richard leaned towards Charlotte to exchange their first kiss as man and wife, William smiled and sought Elizabeth’s eye. She was still focused on the happy couple, a strange but not totally unexpected wetness in her eye. In his mind, she was even more magnificent than Charlotte; she wore a salmon silk knee-length dress he had helped her choose, a blue silk wrap hanging on her shoulders and a wide blue straw-hat with a matching salmon muslin scarf knotted around it.

That the mere sight of her was still able to steal his breath after a half-year relationship had stopped amazing him; she was the one, he was now quite sure about it. He had thought about the best occasion to propose but had yet to find. And that hadn’t prevented them from finalising their plans for Georgie and him moving permanently in the Rueil flat. He chuckled at how those two women of his life had managed to make him do exactly what they wanted. Due to her grades, Georgie had easily won her place in La Sorbonne and Lili had always stated that his little sister would be more than welcome in Rueil and that she would feel quite alone now that Jane and Charles were moving back to England. How Charles had managed to convince him that working from Paris three weeks out of four was very easy was a further proof that the strategy had been carefully established. His only remaining bother concerned her job. He had grown accustomed to the idea of her dancing almost naked; but, as Richard had put it all those months ago, it was not ‘the part he preferred’. And the fact that he was not waiting for her every night rendered the idea less painful. He sighed; he would do his best to bear with her absence.

The afternoon sun lit the stone floor of the central aisle of Cathedral St Pierre, heating it until the wedding procession would walk down it. All the guests were already in the church, the groom’s party on the right, the bride’s on the left and the friends scattered across the audience. Every face was turned to the front gate of the church; but, due to the blinding light, nothing could be seen. Marie was seated on the empty-but-for-her left front row; Matthew was also quite alone on the right, his wife outside, trying to explain for the umpteenth time to their children and nephews what they were supposed to do with Charlotte’s veil.

Elizabeth and William were standing in the middle of the aisle – quite in front of the altar actually – finishing one of the most interesting conversations, or so William thought. Halfway the short drive from the Town Hall to the cathedral, she had started to tell him that she had felt very sorry for Charles while Jane was finishing her mandatory leave at the Crazy Horse.

"Sorry? For Bing?"

Somewhat light-headed, and after a slight pause, she had gone on: "And so I’ve given much thoughts to quitting my job and finding another way to earn my living. I think I could easily become an assistant-teacher in La Sorbonne, Professeur Bernier told me last week that a position was free."

By then, he had parked the Twingo and they had had to stop their talk and welcome all the members of the Fitzwilliam family who had not been at the Town Hall ceremony. When, at last, they had had a few seconds together – waiting for the entrance of the heroes of the day – he had resumed their conversation:

"I can’t say I’m displeased with this train of thought, but I don’t want you to act impulsively."

"Will, I’ve been thinking about this for almost a week. I’m sure it’s the best solution."

"I don’t want you to regret later things that you would have given up for me. I love you and if I have to wait until 1:00 am every morning to make love to you, I’ll do it."

She blushed crimson and slapped his arm for professing such impish thoughts in such a pious building. Then the organist began the first chords of the Mendelssohn Wedding March, they quickly joined their place, everybody stood up at once and the cameras began flashing.

First came the priest and the pastor; it had been decided that both would officiate, all the easier as both religions were Christian ones. Both wore their wedding-office outfit and they were obviously pleased to share their role of the ceremony.

Richard and his proud mother followed them, a few steps behind. The sun caught in his fair hair and gave a Holy glow to their walk. He wasn’t fidgeting, as if the civil ceremony, as un-emotional as it could have appeared, had been enough to ascertain his future as Charlotte’s husband. The same couldn’t be said about his mother; Kathleen was smiling with tears in her eyes. She was leading her youngest children to the altar, something she never thought she would – not that she didn’t expect him to marry someday but rather because she had never imagined he would marry out of England. She had wept conspicuously at Audrey’s wedding – her eldest, her only daughter –, had been teased merciless after her numerous tears at Matthew’s – so handsome, so like his father – and had resolved on being the crying mother at each of her children’s weddings. And so, she saw no reason to restrain herself for her baby’s wedding; and considering she had not shed one tear at the Town Hall – almost but not really – she felt at ease to open the gates and let her happiness pour.

Hugh Fitzwilliam and Martine Lucas followed the groom and his mother. The strangeness of his situation didn’t prevent him from smiling and nodding; he felt like a royalty visiting a colony and somehow stood more erect, as if to prevent an imaginary crown to fall. The only flaw in his fantasy was that he didn’t have the right spouse at his arm. As nice as was Charlotte’s mother – and she had kept some of her ex-ski-champion slimness over the years, and in spite of mothering four now grown-up children – he wished he had Kathleen by his side; she couldn’t be crying more than Martine… What was it with those mothers all crying their eyes out at each wedding? He went on smiling and she went on sniffing – her smile broad on her suntanned face anyway – until they reached the first pew.

When the aisle was clear and their predecessors had reached their places, Richard in front of the altar, the others on the first line of benches, Guillaume and Charlotte entered the cathedral. What had been Holy with Richard’s blond mane became Godly when the sun light fell on Charlotte’s ivory veil and dress. When, before entering, her father had covered her face with the light gauze, she had caught a deep breath and he had asked her if she had second thoughts; she had vigourously shook her head but hadn’t been able to utter a word. Guillaume had only squeezed her hand on his arm in reply. The children had been ready behind her, holding her veil, and she had shown the door with her head. His father had only replied:

"Oui Ma Puce; allons-y. Je t’aime, tu sais."*5

This had only drawn some more moisture in her eyes but she had smiled gratefully and he hadn’t regretted it.

As he walked down the aisle with his eldest daughter, the one who had refused to follow the family-track – establishing herself in the best Annecéienne society and fleeing to Paris instead -, the one who had chosen a quite embarrassing job, the one who had chosen an Englishman – an Englishman, for God’s sake, in spite of everything that had happened in so many Five, now Six Nations tournament *6 -, his little angel that had made him become a doting father when all he cared for was skiing and working, he felt emotion coming gradually over him. He gulped, widened his smile and squeezed once again Charlotte’s hand. Wow, it was not easy to be the father of the bride!

Charlotte felt her father’s squeeze and she understood it as an encouragement to hold on her tears longer. The happy smiles she was seeing, on every face she cared to look, also helped her not to start weeping. And Richard, her love, the man of her dreams was at the end of the trail, waiting for her, and she couldn’t arrive there with tear-streaked cheeks. She swallowed once again and stiffened her back even straighter. When she arrived by Richard, her father briefly lifted the veil to place a peck on her cheek, and she faced the man who still had to become her husband in front of God, even if she was already his wife in front of Men.

If her friend had managed to dry her eyes before reaching the altar, Elizabeth’s were still shining. She felt in this cathedral all the sanctity she had felt in the Longbourn church; and the memory of what she had realised at Jane’s wedding was, at the moment, overwhelming. She wished she were by William’s side, to at least hold his hand and whisper her love in his ear; but it was not to be. She looked his way and noticed his attention was focused on her. She sent him a fake-scolding look and he mouthed her ‘I love you’ in reply. She smiled, noticed that Hugh Fitzwilliam was looking at her, blushed and turned back her attention on the bi-lingual ceremony.

But William’s intense look didn’t leave her, their earlier conversation still lingering in his mind. She was giving up her job to be with him! And she had not spoken about depending on him financially; she just wanted to make him happy even though she would have less time to work on her thèse! What more did he want? What was he still waiting for? The thought of crossing the aisle and proposing then and there crossed his mind but he quickly rejected it; as much as Richard was happy for him, he didn’t think he would be that benevolent if he were to interrupt his wedding to do something he should have done months ago – on La Noire for instance. Fortunately for his reputation, the priest called at that moment for the witnesses to stand and gather around the happy couple for the exchange of the vows. He listened to his cousin vowing to Charlotte he would always love her, comfort her, honour her, and keep her in sickness and in health; and forsaking all other, keep himself only unto her, so long as they both should live. The only thought that entered his mind was that he should be in his cousin’s shoes at this moment, speaking those same words to Elizabeth.

Elizabeth’s eyes wetness had come back; she even discreetly brushed a tear away when Charlotte’s said: "Je te reçois comme époux et je me donne à toi pour t'aimer fidèlement tout au long de notre vie."*7 This was what she felt for William and she felt more than ready to officially declare it.

"Lili," William whispered, while the four witnesses were gathered behind the altar, waiting for their turn to sign the register. As the newlyweds were at once smiling dreamily at each other, smiling at the numerous photographers and obeying to the priest who showed them where to sign, the process was taking quite a while.

"Yes, Will?" She looked up at him and saw a strange light in his deep chocolate eyes.

Taking her hand, he backed towards a slightly more private and dark part of the apse. Taking hold of her second hand, he drew her closer. He took a deep breath in.

"Lili, I know it’s not the best place nor the best moment, but… will you marry me?"

Her eyes opened widely. She gulped and hoped that her heart would remain in her ribcage. Somehow, the light entering through the Sixteenth century stained glass windows had become warmer, the murmur of the assembly had disappeared and the man standing in front of her was the only thing she could discern.

William almost regretted not to have waited longer; with a little setting – a fancy restaurant, a rose on her napkin – she would have been prepared and would probably have answered more quickly. Now she only gaped at him, love radiating through her eyes, her mad pulse making a tiny path down her throat. He squeezed her hands and became absentmindedly aware that Rich and Charlotte were looking quizzically at them. "Elizabeth?"

She started and her tongue wet her dry and painted lips. "Will, you have the most astounding habit of making me love declarations in the most un-thinkable places…"

He smiled. "Well, a church for a proposal of marriage is not such an un-thinkable place; but there’s a question on the table…"

"I will, William Darcy; I will be your wife, to love you and cherish you as long as we both shall live."

Their kiss was interrupted by Richard’s clearing his throat and Charlotte’s giggles; Matthew and Marie were smiling at them, handing them the pens. Both smiled, their faces as crimson as Père François wedding scarf, and Richard and Charlotte’s wedding resumed.

Charlotte insisted on having a picture taken of the six of them. What was imprinted on the film was a nice setting: the sunset on Lake Annecy, the green foliage of the woods on the surrounding mountains and three couples, two already possessing wedding bands, the third lady only wearing a newly purchased engagement ring. The ladies were quite stunning, tall and slim; the gentlemen as handsome in their wedding finery. But what one felt at looking at this picture was how perfect those couples were, each in their own way, yet all with love for the other glowing and reflecting in the golden shade of the lake.

Author’s notes

*7 "I receive you as my husband, and I give myself to you, to faithfully love as long as we both shall live."