Time stood still, a black hole was formed in that cramped space and Elizabeth was sucked through it. She reached out for his hand and the moment their fingers touched... well, let's just say that night Dallas lost power for a few seconds, or rather the lights dimmed and flickered.

Elizabeth looked at him in an earnest, tear-streaked state as she moved closer to him. "Forgive me?" she whispered.

Darcy reeled and nearly lost his balance. He stood there for what seemed like an eternity, in shock, but merely a moment had passed. Instinctively, he leaned down and kissed her on her cheek. She did not shy away this time. The kiss was so soft and tender, Elizabeth thought she had dreamt the whole thing. When she opened her eyes, he was still looking at her, intensely, and holding her hand, tightly. He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it as well.

If all other sources of human origin remained in the hallway to bear witness to this historic event there was no evidence of it, and in the minds of the notable two, they were the only people on the planet at this given juncture.

Unfortunately, this illusion would not, could not, last for very long. The children clamored for her attention and dragged her into the dining room. A chair between Trey and Bennet they provided for her. They requested, no demanded tales of her secret and extended sojourn. As not to disappoint the little ones, Elizabeth weaved tales of a great bear hunt and the stalking of Big Foot. The lads were not displeased, not at all! Nor was any other member of the party. Elizabeth had this way about her that made you smile, laugh, or cry whenever she did. By the time dinner had been eaten, kids cleaned up and put to bed, there on the sofa across from the fireplace, sat an exhausted yet contented aunt.

All was still and quiet for a while, then Darcy stood.

He whispered to Bingley. "I'll just call for the limo."

"Lizzy, would you mind dropping Will off at his hotel?" inquired Bingley.

Darcy stopped and turned around.

"Not at all," she said to Bingley. "Besides we need to talk." This was pointedly said to Darcy.

*****

For some reason, it was 'all quiet on the western front' while Elizabeth drove Darcy to his hotel. She did not want to bring up anything that driving would divide her attentions. He did not want to speak first, but to listen.

Elizabeth pulled up to park on the street.

"Would you like to come in?" he asked. "I mean, we don't have to sit in the car. There are plenty of places inside that we can talk."

"Sure." She put the car in first gear and they travelled slowly to the entrance.

The valet came to open Elizabeth's door. "Are you staying here, Miss?"

Darcy leaned over. "No. I am."

The valet nodded in recognition and waited for Elizabeth to exit. They walked into the lobby and Darcy pointed to a lounge section near the back that was unoccupied, and since it was so very late in the evening, assumably unclaimed thereon.

Elizabeth sat with her back to the activity of the hotel. Darcy asked a passing bellhop for 2 glasses of Chardonnay. If it had been anyone else, the hop might have advised that it was not his job to do so, but he clearly recognized this frequent patron and did, as bid. Darcy approached where Elizabeth was sitting and looked at the circular chairs, deciding which would provide the best all-around opportunity to, er, um, to see her face. He chose the one next to her on her right.

She turned to him fully. "Do you... forgive me?"

"You have nothing to be forgiven for."

"Yes I do," she sighed. "I haven't yet learned the patience that my father teaches and that I myself supposedly practice daily. Trust is still a huge obstacle. Nor have I learned to temper my tongue."

"If you wish it. But only if you forgive me as well?"

She shook her head. "You've done nothing but try and protect my family. I realize that now." Tears began to fall and she turned away.

Soundlessly the hop brought the two glasses, Darcy gave him a sizeable tip, and he left smiling.

"Liz... I held some things back from you. Things, that if looked upon reflectively, I really didn't need to hide."

"I understand."

Darcy grasped her hand and lovingly stroked the back of it with his thumb. "Do you?"

Elizabeth turned to him and met his eyes. "Yes."

"Do you forgive me?"

"Yes."

They sat there, drinking in every feature of each other's face, for more than a few minutes. A nearby housekeeper with a very loud vacuum cleaner woke them from their tête-à-tête.

They smiled at each other. Darcy pointed to their drinks, Elizabeth chuckled at his magical foresight and they sipped quietly.

"How about a turn around the park?"

"I have a better idea..."

"McDonald's?" he huffed.

Elizabeth nodded. They left the lobby hand-in hand.

****

These 2 days saw Elizabeth and Darcy spending a vast amount of time in each other's company; whether it be alone together, or in the midst of family and friends, it was apparent to all that a love match was forming. Yet it was that time spent alone, that all outsiders pondered over, and more importantly, the two insiders worried about.

It was indeed a time for talking, yet in most instances, there was none. They talked of trivialities, Darcy was afraid to tell Elizabeth how he really felt; he assumed she might run away again if he pressed her. Elizabeth was not quite sure how she felt about Darcy; she liked him immensely, but was struggling with herself. Would he be worth the risk of getting herself killed? Should she tell him about the threats?

She knew Darcy was holding back something from her. But what? Her vulnerable heart had played many a trick on her before... she would wait.

Thus existed, intermittently, a quiet uneasiness between the two.

Don't let it be said that there were no amorous adventures, or at least a substantial amount of kissing, in which they lost themselves in a world of desires. But each fiery encounter had to be terminated, each tender embrace had to be restrained, each fluttering heart had to be calmed, and each passionate flame had to be dampened. There was too much at stake here! Interest was there; attraction was there, heat was definitely there, love was a possibility, but not before a deep and abiding trust could be built. And it would take time. That's all they needed: Time.

"Oh, it is too early in the morning!" she exclaimed as the sound of the doorbell penetrated her peaceful slumber.

Yet Elizabeth threw on a robe and hurried downstairs to stop the incessant noise. With bleary eyes, she peered through the peephole.

"Can I help you?"

"Uh yes. I have a delivery for a Miss Elizabeth Bennet."

"Delivery?"

"Yes ma'am."

Elizabeth wiped the sleep from her eyes and peered out again. This time she spotted a florist's truck on the street and a not too suspicious looking deliveryman. She opened the door.

*****

The flowers that Darcy sent Elizabeth were absolutely beautiful! She sat and admired this latest declaration for a long while. But a declaration of what?

She picked up the card that simply said:

She heard the mailman stop by her box, then drive away. Elizabeth smiled and nearly ran to the end of the driveway, still in her robe, but she walked back into the house with her single missive.

"Just try and stop me!"

Darcy was fed up and disgusted. This was absolutely the last time she would barge into his office! He swung the door open, opened his mouth, but what he saw was not what he expected. His mouth continued to hang open, but words were not an option at the present.

"And you, you son-of-a-bitch!!!" was forcefully spat and followed by a blazing slap across his face that resounded around the rented office space.

Darcy reeled backwards a few steps.

"This is how you tell me my kisses meant nothing to you?!?!?!"

Elizabeth threw something at Darcy, which flew towards him, instincts told him to duck and he did, but the crumpled paper died on flight and thudded on the floor a mere 2 inches from his feet.

Tears fell in an acid like rainfall down her cheeks. "I hate you for using me! I hate you!"

Darcy was wide-eyed and speechless.

"Fuck you and the horse you rode in on!" And with that she stalked through the outer office and disappeared down the hallway.

Darcy was too stunned to speak, let alone go after her. He wordlessly closed the door to his office, but not before picking up that which was angrily tossed to him.

It took him minutes to recover, but at length, he sat down heavily and unraveled the message. He read it and if his heart had not stopped beating, he might have read it again. Darcy stood up. Rage burned from his toes upward. Smoke flared outward from his nostrils. Wrath fell downward from his fevered brow. Hatred boiled inward.

It read:

Since Darcy had not yet shown his face at the Bingley household, his friend called his hotel room, his office, his cell phone, his pager, but got no answer. Since Jane could not reach Elizabeth that night, she called her house, her cell phone, and her pager, but got no answer. They then assumed them to be together, but as we know the real deal, they were completely wrong.

Caroline had since given up on her possible encounter with Darcy, so she slunk to Louisa's for the night.

*****

"Charles! What happened to my brother?!"

"Gina? What do you mean?"

"His secretary called me and told me that some woman came there, slapped him, cussed him out, and left!"

"What?! When?!"

"Yesterday! And he's been locked up in his office ever since!"

"I'll go over there and see what I can find out, okay?! I'll call you later."

They hung up.

"Jane!" called Bingley. "Jane!"

"Yes dear?" she huffed. "I'm not deaf..." Jane halted her lecture as soon as she saw her husband's ashen face. "What's wrong?"

Bingley told her as much as he knew as he threw on a jacket and ran for the garage.

*****

Last evening, Elizabeth managed to pack up some clothes, her mail, and a few other things, plus put Bud in a kennel. Now she just sat staring at the 4 walls of some unknown motel room in who knew what town or city. She had cried enough! There was no use wasting any more on that man! Still, the very essence of her breathing ached in despondency. She had almost succumbed to his charms and given up her most prized possession. Elizabeth could not hate him, not yet; she was too hurt to despise, too wounded to loathe, too tormented to curse, and too abused for malevolence. She needed to work: for pride's sake, for dignity's plea, for peace of mind.

*****

As the door opened, Bingley was greeted by a shaken secretary in Darcy's branch office, Mary Musgrove. She merely handed him a key and pointed.

Stealthily, Bingley turned the lock with the key and the door handle to minimize the noise. Darcy would not have heard it anyway. The destruction of the office was appalling, but his friend sprawled out on the floor was more than a shock. Bingley nearly panicked and ran to his friend.

"Will!" he exclaimed. "Will!" he turned him over. The stench of alcohol slapped Bingley's sense of smell and made him stand up quickly. "Will..." he shook his head. "What happened?"

Darcy mumbled a few words, in Latin, I think. Anyway, after Bingley recovered from the unpleasant odor, he dragged his tall friend to the couch.

"Mrs. Musgrove can we get some coffee in here?!"

Darcy raised his hands up to his head and groaned. "Ohh! Why are you yelling?! Ohh!"

"Will, what's wrong? I've never seen you like this."

Darcy's eyes opened and shook his head, grimacing with each movement. "I'm really going to kill her this time," he sneered.

"Who?"

"Your sister."

"Why?"

Darcy pointed aimlessly. "There's an invitation... find it. Read it."

Bingley searched around Darcy's desk and found the tattered invite on the floor by the trashcan. He read it. "Oh my Lord!" It came out as a whisper, but the force of it travelled to Darcy's ears.

"You should've let me kill her on Christmas!" Darcy shouted. "Ohh!" he groaned again and grabbed his head.

The secretary brought in a large pot of fresh brewed, strong coffee and placed it on the desk.

"Not so loud!" shrieked Darcy. "Ohh!"

Mary nearly crumbled in terror. She backed out quickly and quietly closed the door.

Bingley poured and handed a mug to Darcy. "Thank you."

"I don't know what to say."

"Don't say anything." Darcy sipped the dark brew. "Liz said it all and more."

"She blames you?"

"More like accuses me." His eyes watered and he turned away. "I give up Charles."

"You can't, Will."

"The gods are against us," he sighed.

"You mean Caroline."

"Her interference puts the locusts, floods and plagues to shame."

"Still..."

"No." He again sipped the hot brew. "We both know her, yet she still manages to come between us, every time. I'll take it as a sign."

"Do you love her?"

"Yes."

"Then don't give up."

"She doesn't trust me... obviously."

"Will..."

"No Charles, no more. My heart can't take this up and down. Whatever it takes... I'll just have to forget her."

"You're really going to give up without a fight?"

"After my head is settled, I'm flying home. I'll lick my wounds in the comfort and solace found there."

*****

"I've called and called and called. She knows its me!"

"Lizzy probably thinks we were in on it as well."

"What do we do, Charles? How can we get her back here?"

"I have a plan, Jane. But you must search your memory for her favorite things."

"Why?"

"If she won't return our phone calls, pages, and messages, our only other choice is to use the media."

"But she rarely watches TV or listens to the radio."

"True, but if she's bored, she might. And if it's something that piques her interest, maybe, just maybe she'll see it."

"We can't be overt. It would embarrass them both and keep her even further away."

"You're right, of course. And I have the perfect pitch man, I mean woman, to do the job for us. I just need the details."

Jane's interest was tantamount and when she heard who Bingley had in mind, she nearly collapsed in laughter and tears. Willingly, she gave up details on Elizabeth's passionate interests and strong dislikes. Then when they involved Darcy in their plans, things came together in a devious shape and form. Bit players, convincing ones, real ones, would be necessary, but they did not need to know the true extent of the cruelty to be had. By evening's end, Darcy's spirit had been revitalized. Revenge can do that to a person.

*****

Elizabeth poured over her mail and message notes. One of these jobs she would take on, probably the closest to her current vicinity, but she had yet to venture out into the world to ask where she was. That would come later as the hunger pains had not subsided. She strolled down to the office.

"Excuse me, where can I get something to eat around here?"

The clerk looked up at the bleary-eyed woman and drawled out thickly. "The diner's closed for the evening, but there's fast food's out on I-27 South."

"McDonald's?!"

"Sure."

"And how do I get there from here?" The clerk looked at her confused. "I came here in the middle of the night... I needed to pull off and rest, so I'm not too familiar with my surroundings."

The lady clerk smiled. "You're midway between Lubbock and Amarillo. And if you go out this road..." she pointed. "... about a mile, you'll see signs for the highway."

A sweet wave of familiarity and a hot flash of apprehension came over Elizabeth's features; an old friend had left her a desperate message and subconsciously she drove that way. "Thank you."

"Sure."

*****

A certain song comes to mind as you imagine Bingley, Darcy and Jane calling in favors, seeking new alliances, and reacquainting old ones... 'I get by with a little help from my friends.'

*****

"Bunny!"

Attorney Henry Crawford nearly spit out his coffee and turned abruptly, ready to give out the lashing of someone's life for using his most hated nickname, but smiled as soon as he saw her.

"Well, well, well!" They embraced. "Don't you ever call me that in public!" he whispered then bit her earlobe.

"Ouch!" she pulled away. "You may not have that overbite anymore, but it still hurts just the same!"

He chuckled. "What brings you up here, Lizzy?"

"Oh, just some murder mystery."

"You got my message?"

"Yep. I'm here to see if I can help out. This is not my usual line, as you well know. I mean, I usually know who the bad guy is already, then I go find them and bring them back to justice. But this case intrigued me. Why don't you tell me a little more?"

"Take a seat?"

She sat down in an uncomfortable itchy chair. "Can't they get you any better furniture?"

"The firm isn't worried about furniture," he smirked. "They're interested in freeing clients, especially this one."

"Tell me about it?"

"Well, there's this family named Dashwood up in the Norland Park Area, they've lost 2 daughters in less than a year." Crawford pulled out a file from his top drawer and threw it on the desk. "The oldest daughter, Bethany, who was age 12 at the time, died in a hit and run accident in January of last year. The second oldest, Corrine, aged 10, drowned in a lake at summer camp in August of last year. There's only one child left, a 7 year-old named Marianne..."

"And your client is in custody for the hit and run and his trial is next month."

"James Benwick," he sighed. "Their neighbor."

"Do you think he had something to do with the other child?"

"He was in jail at the time."

Elizabeth quickly looked through the file. "He's pleading innocent?"

"Yep. He said he was drinking at a pub downtown Lubbock, but was too drunk to drive. One of the patrons, we have no names, drove him home that night."

"Hmm..."

"But his car is definitely the car that killed the little girl. However, we've been wracking our brains to find this mysterious designated driver. Lubbock's P.D. doesn't have the manpower as it is. So we're stuck in the proverbial river of shit without a paddle."

"What did the bartender say?"

"Nothing. He's not the regular Saturday night bartender, so he didn't recognize Benwick out of all the other people that were in there that night. It's all in there."

"Okay, okay. Is this my copy?"

"No, but I'll have one made for you."

Crawford pressed a button and spoke through an intercom; a clerk came in and took the brief from Elizabeth.

"So... how have you been?"

Elizabeth smiled, but it did not reach her eyes. "Fine. Just fine."

"The offer still stands, you know?"

She sighed. "Henry... that's the last thing I need to hear right now. Believe me when I tell you that."

"Okay, I'll drop it." For now!

The clerk brought in the file and its copied contents.

"Thank you." He waited until the clerk left. "Where are you staying?"

"Holiday Inn on Loop 289. Room number 307."

"I'll keep you posted on any new developments here."

"And I'll do the same."

"How about dinner tonight?"

"Henry..."

"Nothing serious. You told me to back off remember? I just want to make sure that you eat, 'cause I know how you get when you gotta case," he defended.

Tears threatened and her throat dried up as she remembered a similar conversation back in Granbury. "7," she croaked.

He nodded. "I'll be there."

Elizabeth left the building.

*****

"Look at the time!" exclaimed Jane.

"Caroline's on her way, so you'd better get out of here!" inserted Bingley.

"I'm going," huffed Darcy. "Call me tomorrow, when the coast is clear?" Darcy pulled on his jacket and ran out the house.

*****

"Remember that Halloween when Lydia and Kitty dressed you up in one of Frances' dresses?!" she sputtered.

"That's one thing I try to forget, but you always manage to bring it up in conversation," he frowned.

"It's still funny!"

Crawford and Elizabeth talked as old friends, or what they had once been to each other, before other things got in the way.

"That was you?!"

"Shh!" she hushed. "It was a gruesome ordeal and I'm glad it's over."

"I'm surprised you went in there, knowing he might've had a gun."

"Surprise is my best tactic. Goulding was too busy laughing to take me seriously." Elizabeth shrugged. "I don't think he's laughing anymore."

"Damn Lizzy, so you're really considering quitting?"

"Yes. I'll give it some more thought once this case is done with. Meanwhile, $100,000 will add prettily to my bank account."

"I'm sure. Has there ever been a bounty you didn't find?"

"A few. Some I wish I hadn't."

"Tell me more?"

Elizabeth told Crawford of her adventures of the last few years, minus the last few months. They were so engrossed in her tales, that they were asked to leave the restaurant at closing time.

*****

"It's surprising that I haven't seen Will Darcy around," she stated as nonchalantly as possible. "I know he's in town. Has he been over to see you?"

"A few times," answered Jane.

"Why?" asked Bingley.

"Oh, no reason. Well, actually I wanted to give him a peace offering."

Jane looked away.

Bingley stared at his sister with incredulity. "He hasn't forgiven you, Caroline." And he never will!

"But he'll come around. He always does."

Jane judiciously changed the subject.

*****

"No Henry, that's not possible."

"Come on Lizzy? Please?"

"No," she coldly pronounced.

He frowned. "Okay. Sorry, I lost my head. I won't pressure you again." Crawford left Elizabeth standing in front of her hotel room door.

Elizabeth studied her case. Regardless of what the official report stated, she would do it her way. The hit and run happened on a Sunday morning while Bethany was on her way to Sunday School. James Benwick was a steadfast patron of said pub on a Saturday night, so it was perfectly logical for her to assume that some of those same patrons were there that night more than a year ago.

Before going to Bruno's as the pub was called, Elizabeth traced different ways of getting from point A (Bruno's) to point B (Benwick's home). Because of the close proximity, there weren't that many, but they all led to the intersection where the young girl was hit, just across the street from the mouth of her subdivision; a subdivision with big, beautiful homes that cost upwards of a half-million dollars or more. Apparently Benwick had money. She then traced Benwick's normal route to and from work, checked out the residential area, shops and businesses immediately across from that same intersection, etc. Albeit, since the accident happened on said Sunday, most businesses and shops were closed.

That Saturday night she donned her party dress and went on a manhunt, so to speak. She asked around while she danced, she interrogated while she sipped her drinks, and pried while she took a breather outside. It just so happened that a young man, had remembered a sloshed Benwick heading out the door one evening and another man practically carrying him to the parking lot. No names were given, but some small clues as to the possible height, weight, and complexion of the other man. However, the young man could not recall the exact night, but it was indeed in January of 1998. After looking at the facts, it was impossible to have been any other night than the one in question, because Benwick had been out-of-town up until that night and had gone out to celebrate the sale of some sailing equipment to which he would receive a huge commission. He was arrested the next evening.

Sunday morning had Elizabeth at the scene 10 minutes before it, as reported by the medical examiner, could have happened. Carefully, from a chair at an outside café in a quaint little shopping center cluster, she watched the traffic; there was hardly any to report, except the few children walking to Sunday School and later, the inhabitants of the community going to church.

During church services, some shops opened their doors. The little candy store, the video shop, the arcade, and a mini-McDonald's to which she had placed herself first. She talked to owners, managers, clerks, attendants and the like, but no one had been there that early and could only still shake their heads in remorse. There were other stores that had not opened on this day: the café, a hardware store, a bookstore, and a mini-theatre. She would visit these shops tomorrow.

Elizabeth had stayed there in the mall, until well after church let out. Trying to suppose, surmise, assume in all manner of ways the possible explanation for such denial as innocence. She was now exhausted after a night of partying and half-a-day of spying.

In her room, she reviewed the photos of the car, the position of the body, etc. Everything was circumstantial, yet all pointed to James Benwick. She needed to speak to him.

*****

Darcy had procured a list of scholarship recipients of his father's beneficence. The elder Mr. Darcy had felt that education was implicit in young bright lives who could not afford college within the boundaries of their family income and therefore set up the gift; naming one student per year from the state of Texas and financing their entire post-high school scholastic career. It was time to plan the 25-year anniversary of said awards and the graduates of such would be invited to a special weekend of activities in June.

There would be special acknowledgements and gifts for the first recipient, the most notable recipient, the most degreed recipient, etc. A different location was chosen for the every 5^th year celebration. This year they would stay at the finest hotel in Phoenix Arizona, all expenses paid, treated to a fabulous dinner/ceremony, invited to either a charity golf game or tennis match, and left to their own devices for the remainder of the 3^rd weekend of the month.

Normally, the young Mr. Darcy would never have involved himself in the tediousness of reviewing the list and plans, but he needed something to do to keep his mind off other things. And in this endeavor, he would actually deign to sign the invites rather than having his signature graphically emblazoned onto them. And yes, Darcy would appear at the official ceremony, mingle for half-hour, make the presentations, sit through dinner, and leave before the dancing started. But this year, he hoped to have certain young woman on his arm. If so, he would stay for the entire weekend and quite possibly longer.

As he autographed the first 3 cards, he steeled his mind and ceased those fantasies, but on the 4^th card, his breathing stopped. He blinked at the name and swallowed hard. 'Elizabeth Bennet' appeared before him. He checked the address and there it was; his Elizabeth, a recipient of his father's bestowal! Good Lord, that woman never ceases to fascinate me! His fantasies began anew.

"Damn phone!" he spat. "Will Darcy, here!"

It took more than 4 hours to sign the other 21 cards; Darcy's mind would wander off to heights yet unrealized of his and Elizabeth's future felicity. Intrigued by yet another connection to him, he thought back to her tales of her meager beginnings and colorful background. However, to satiate his curiosity, he had Elizabeth's file faxed from Austin to investigate further, or at least that's what he convinced himself of.

*****

"Who are you?"

"I'm Liz Bennet and I'm investigating your hit and run."

"I'm not talking without my lawyer!"

"Mr. Benwick, your lawyer sent me here!" she glared. "You can call him if you'd like to verify my existence," she pulled out her cell phone and shoved it at him.

He rolled his eyes and pushed her hand away. "Sure. Whatever."

"I'm here to help you." He nodded. "In your statement, you said that someone could've stolen your car. But there is no evidence of forced entry and your keys were found on your nightstand the evening of your arrest. Why would you say something like that? Is there anyone out to get you?"

"No, but anybody worth their salt in stealing could've easily found my spare set of keys."

"And where were they?"

"There's a tin box bolted near my front axle. It's big enough to hold keys and other sorts of things."

"I don't see that in this police report."

He shrugged. "They never found the extra set."

Elizabeth nodded and scribbled some notes. "And they assumed that either you lost them previously or never had them to begin with."

"That's about right."

"Other than leaving at closing time and the bartender, you can't remember anything else, anything that might help you?"

"I was drunk, I admit to that. I drank more than I should've, but damn it, I deserved it. I was getting a nice fat commission... enough that I could retire on," he sighed. "To answer your question. No. I've been sitting in this jail for a whole year now. Nothing but time to wrack my brain." He shook his head sadly. "Nothing."

"But I'm lead to understand that Bruno's is a weekly thing for you."

"I went to Bruno's every Saturday night that I was in town. Yes, I had a good time. Yes, I drank too much. But, I would always catch a cab home or ask one of my neighbors to drive me back."

"Yet you can't remember who this particular patron was."

"No. All I know is that he was shorter than me and balding, that's all I can remember. And he had a ladybug tattoo!"

"That's not in your transcripts."

"It just came to me."

"Mr. Benwick, you've been sitting in this jail for more than a year... Do you expect me to believe that probably the most important fact about this mysterious person, just came to you?"

"It's your jacket."

"Excuse me?"

"The red of it pasted against these black walls."

"Hmm?" Elizabeth scribbled on her notepad.

*****

"Caroline, darling!" shrieked Ava Russell. "I have been looking all over for you, for ages!"

The entire restaurant looked on as they feigned kisses on both cheeks.

Caroline smiled at her fake friend. "Why? Whatever for?"

"How would you like to have your face plastered on billboards, in magazines, and in every fucking household in the country?!" she whispered.

Caroline's eyes widened in greed as Lady, I mean, Mrs. Russell knew they would.

"My ad agency has been picked by Darcy, Inc. to run a series of commercials for one of his ventures and naturally, I thought of you."

"Oh Ava, do tell?!" squealed Caroline as she practically fell back into her chair. "Won't you join me?"

"Of course darling!" Mrs. Russell sat down across from her and began, "He's looking for a fresh face and if you pull this off, I'm sure he'll be more than grateful to you!"

Caroline was a fool for flattery and an even bigger sucker for anything that involved Darcy's gratitude or approval, so this was like giving candy to a baby and asking her to follow. "Really?!" Thoughts of worldwide fame, fortune, and the man of her dreams on her arm, carried her away from reality. "Where do I sign up?"

"I just happen to have the contract right here." Mrs. Russell dug in her purse. "I've been carrying it around with me for the last 2 weeks or so." She pulled it out with an ink pen. "Maybe you should have your lawyer look at it first?"

"Oh pooh-pooh!" Caroline snatched at the papers.

"Then we'll need a witness." Mrs. Russell looked around and spotted some well-placed friends. "Oh, the Martin's are over there!" She stood up and yelled across the room. "Yohoo! Robert! Harriet!" She waved them over. "We need witnesses. My dear friend Caroline, is signing a contract in which she hasn't read a word of it, and you must be a witness that I have stated that fact to her."

They both shrugged. The introductions were made, the contract signed and witnessed, and the Martins went back to their table.

"I have to go now!"

"But we have so much to catch up on, Ava! And you have yet to tell me about this new job of mine."

"Maybe next time dear, but I've got to set the wheels in motion on this ASAP!" She kissed the air as she bent near Caroline's face. Bitch! "You understand... well, of course, you do! This is the beginning of your new career! Ta ta, darling!" And with that Mrs. Russell blew out of the restaurant in a puff of powder blue linen.

*****

Elizabeth ventured back to the little mall across the street from the subdivision to interview the rest of the people she deemed necessary. However, at the movie theatre she found out 2 things of great import: that the owner of the café was none other than the mother of the two child victims, a Mrs. Fantella Ferrars-Halifax-Harville-Dashwood, and the owner of the hardware store next door was their stepfather, a Mr. John Dashwood. This changed her strategy, she would not interrogate them instead she would play customer. Elizabeth needed a plan however, and after interviewing the other businesses she went back to her hotel room.

Elizabeth read through the transcripts again and again and formulated her schemes. It seems that both Bethany and Corrine were Halifax's; but the second husband, Harville, adopted them. And little Marianne is the second husband's natural child. John Dashwood married Fantella almost 3 years ago.

*****

"Louisa this is cause for celebration! Let's go!"

"I'm almost ready Caroline, but don't you think you should call your family with the good news?"

"Heaven forbid! If Charles found out that I had any extra money, he'd stop giving me any."

"But I thought he already cut you off?"

"Oh, but I've been working on him. That's why I'm spending so much time with his family."

"I don't get it."

"I've been spending quality time with those brats, just so I could get in his good graces again."

"So, eventually he'll see that you've mended your ways and welcome you back into the fold?"

"Yes! In fact, I see him softening every time I drop by. It's been nearly 3 months since he's given me any money, but in another week or so I'll ask, he'll give."

Louisa shook her head and shrugged.

She bolted straight up from her sleep and immediately turned on the lamp on the nightstand and looked around for a pen and pad. She scribbled furiously in the early hours and promptly went back to sleep.

*****

Darcy read through her personal transcripts with the ease of a Peeping Tom and wondered why he had not espied Elizabeth at the last awards ceremony in 1994. It seemed she was working on a big murder case and that she declined the invite. Of course I would've noticed her back then... Yeah right! Then Darcy remembered that his father had just passed away that year and that he was only at the festivities for the dinner. I was definitely not in the frame of mind to meet anyone at that stage... Elizabeth's profile also stated that she completed pre-law and law degrees at Harvard. We missed each other there too?! Then she worked at the D.A.'s office under Charlotte. But I visited Charlotte hundred's of times... Hmmm? He had yet to realize that he barely paid attention to apprentices or 'wet behind the ears' wannabe lawyers, but when he finally did remember, he cringed with shame.

*****

Elizabeth peered forlornly at her scribbles in the middle of the night. "What in the hell did I mean by this?" She went over the words in her head. Bethany... Other side... Why? She had no clue.

She got dressed and drove back to the mall.

*****

"Can I help you, Miss?"

"Oh no thank you. I'm just looking," she smiled.

"Well, I'm the owner... John Dashwood and if I can't help you, nobody can!"

Elizabeth quickly sized up the man, fat and bald, except for the beard. "Nice to meet you Mr. Dashwood." She went on through the penny nail isle.

"So John..." asked another man, "... whatcha puttin' up on the back shelf there?"

"Computers, Bob."

"Computers?!" the man gasped. "Why for?"

Dashwood frowned. "They're the future, my fine-feathered friend."

"Future?! Who in da hell'd come into a hardware store to buy a computer?!"

Elizabeth giggled to herself.

"Now ya see! That's why you're still at the gas station Bob," he sneered. "No vision, no dreams!"

"I got vision!" defended Bob. "I just don't see how you're gonna get that off the ground!"

"Argh!" Dashwood flailed his arms. "Get out!" he pointed.

Bob snickered. "I came to buy something!"

"I don't have it!"

"You don't even know what I want!" he laughed out loud. "I's just kiddin' ya!"

"Bah!" Dashwood turned away.

"Ya use to could take my ribbin's, John. I's just trying to get ya out of this funk..."

Dashwood rolled his eyes. "Come see me in about 3 months, I might be able to squeeze you in."

"Yeah, alright. I'll be seein' ya!" Bob left.

"Sorry about that, Miss. He just knows how to get my goat lately."

"Oh that's alright!" called Elizabeth. "My sisters do the same thing!" She walked towards the front.

"You new around here... Visitor?"

"I'm visiting a friend. I lost the pin in my eyeglasses and when I saw your place from the street, I'd thought come in and see if you had anything."

"I got 'em right here at the counter. I asked if you needed help."

Elizabeth shrugged. "You looked busy." Dashwood rung her up and Elizabeth paid for the eyeglass kit. "Thanks. I noticed a café outside, is it any good?"

Dashwood beamed. "It's my wife's place. Best Chicken Marsala this side of New Orleans!"

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. "I bet!"

"No, seriously! It's been written up in the paper and everything! Honest!"

"Alright, I'll take your word for it."

*****

"Jane, how come you didn't tell me your sister was a Darcy candidate?"

"Hello to you too, Will!" she chuckled.

"I'm sorry. Hello. I was just looking over the list of invitee's and saw Liz's name."

"She received so many awards and scholarships back then, who was I to count?"

"Really?!"

"Will, you don't live in a vacuum! Do you think my family had enough money to send me to UT and Lizzy to Harvard?"

"Well, uh... I, uh... It hadn't dawned on me."

"I didn't think so. Why don't you come over?"

"No way! Caroline could be stopping by any minute now!"

Jane laughed. "Not today. She's shopping."

"Then I'll be right over!"

They hung up.

*****

"Hello?" Elizabeth called out to the nearly empty restaurant.

"I'll be right with you!" came a shout from the back.

"Okay!" Elizabeth returned, then suddenly feeling uncomfortable as the other heads turned towards her.

Finally, a tall thin pretty blonde appeared through the kitchen doors, rubbing her wet hands off on her apron. "I'm sorry, I'm a bit short-handed today and my daughter's sick. So, if I look haggard and worn, don't mind me. And if you want something other than food, you'll more than likely have to get it yourself!" she chortled.

Elizabeth smiled. "I understand."

"Now, did you want something to eat?"

"Yes."

"Well, then grab a seat. Here's a menu. My specialty's Chicken Marsala, but we have a pretty nice menu, if that doesn't excite your appetite. I'll be right back!"

The woman hurried back to the kitchen, however, being mindful of her scant customers, asked them if they needed anything. They all shook their heads. Elizabeth sat down at a table near the reception desk.

While she waited, Elizabeth looked around and noticed an array of tiny clay pots planted with all sorts of herbs and spices, just like the ones she espied outside. Masons jars filled with sauces and dressings that bore the name of the café. A framed magazine article that touted the restaurant as one of Lubbock's best kept secrets, 'a down-home place serving delicious, healthy food at reasonable prices.'

Elizabeth stood and walked over to the shelf and selected a jar of spaghetti sauce with mushrooms and a packet of Italian spices to supplement Darcy's culinary skills. Just as soon as that thought passed through her mind, she immediately put the spices back on the shelf and shook those dismal thoughts away.

As she walked back to her seat, Elizabeth noticed that someone occupied the last booth nearest the coffee bar; a stillness came over her. The youngest child, Marianne, lay asleep on the padded seat.

Except for a chapped nose, the girl seemed fine. Long brown hair twisted and tangled around her face, a Raggedy Ann doll clutched in her arms, and one foot dangling over the edge of the seat. On the table sat a box of Kleenex and a prescription bottle.

Elizabeth realized as she watched the sleeping girl's shallow breathing that she had been revisiting the past. As a rule, she needed a clear head to be able to see things from all vantage points. Darcy's betrayal had somehow crept into her mind as she looked upon the little girl, and secretly wished she was her own and his. She resolved to stop that nonsense. Elizabeth plucked a tissue from the box and reached down to wipe the little girl's nose. Marianne pulled the blanket up high to cover most of her face.

"Hello," smiled Elizabeth.

Marianne's brown eyes blinked, but no words came out.

"Oh, I see you found Marianne!" exclaimed Mrs. Fantella Dashwood. "Darling do you need anything? Are you hungry?"

The little girl nodded. "Uh huh."

Fantella turned to Elizabeth. "Do you know what you want yet?"

"I'll have the special."

"Excellent! I'll have it whipped up in a jiffy."

"Do you mind if I sit with your daughter? I'll make sure she's okay and that she eats while I'm here."

Mrs. Dashwood normally would've never allowed a total stranger to tend to her child, but as she studied Elizabeth, she realized that she needed help in any area in which it came.

"Marianne's got bronchial flu. She might be contagious." Elizabeth shrugged. "Okay. Thank you."

"You're welcome."

*****

"A Rhodes Scholar?!" exclaimed Darcy. "Brilliant and beautiful!"

Jane smiled. "But she didn't want to go that far away from home, so she turned it down."

"Why didn't she want to go and experience Europe?"

"She had been at Harvard for an eternity she said. And rarely had a chance to come home. She wanted to know her nephews and be near Papa..." she hesitated. "And Mama."

"Jane, Liz told me."

"Told you what?"

"Everything. About her childhood, her real parents..."

"Oh."

Jane was by no means naïve or unaware, as some would say; her sister would never tell that story to someone unless she trusted them implicitly. Suffice it to say, Elizabeth really did trust Darcy... with her secrets, but not yet her heart.

Elizabeth and Marianne hit it off very well. Fantella had made dried toast with applesauce spread and some tea for Marianne. As they ate, they told jokes and laughed for more than an hour. The cashier, Alice had finally come in to work.

"My tummy hurts," she whined.

"Oh!" Elizabeth reached over and touched the back of her hand to the child's forehead. "And you're burning up too! Let me go get your mother." Elizabeth ran through the now crowded restaurant to the kitchen. "Mrs. Dashwood, Marianne's hot to the touch and she says her stomach hurts."

"There's a bottle of medicine on the table... Could you give it to her?"

Her gut lurched in warning and Elizabeth shook her head. "No. Is it alright if the cashier gives it to her?"

Fantella looked at her, seriously. "Sure."

Elizabeth felt the need to apologize. "I'm good with cheering kids up, but..."

"Oh don't worry about it. I understand."

On her way back, she explained the situation to the cashier and asked her to join them in the booth. Alice administered the drug and went back to her duties.

By the time the effects of the medicine had run its course through the little girl, Fantella returned from the kitchen.

"Thank you for helping out."

"No problem. She's the sweetest little girl."

"My youngest," offered Fantella as she tucked a blanket around Marianne. Elizabeth noticed Fantella's left hand was missing the first 2 fingers. "Lunch is on me."

"That's not necessary."

"Sure it is. And it comes to less than what I would've paid a babysitter," she smiled.

"Still..."

"How did you like it?"

"Fabulous! Every bit as good as the write-up!"

Fantella's smile grew wider.

*****

In the hotel room, Elizabeth pondered the day so far; John Dashwood was probably 10 to 12 years older than his wife Fantella; a man and woman happy in their work, businesses either expanding or enjoying success. The only dark cloud in their lives seemed to be the deaths of their daughters. Where was she going with this? Who knows? The Dashwood's had not seemed particularly distraught over their daughters' deaths, but it had been nearly 6 months since the last; even in such tragedies, she reasoned, life must go on.

Elizabeth did not like admitting it, but her sleuthing skills were producing less than brilliant results. She was hoping to find 2 people with desperate, scared eyes or at least a smattering of anger or doubt as they referred to each other. She had not uncovered such, and at the moment, Benwick seemed to be her best suspect, as he was in everyone else's mind.

Elizabeth looked back through the Dashwood family file to see if she could find out about Fantella Dashwood's missing fingers. There was nothing.

Elizabeth decided to talk to the ex-husband's. The first, a Mr. Harlan Halifax had died in a car accident more than 9 years ago. The second, a Mr. Carleton Harville was co-partner in an architectural firm downtown.

She called the firm, but Harville was out for the day; she did not leave a message.

She recalled that James Benwick's house was up at the end of the block, two houses away from the Dashwood's. In addition to seeing them at the café and the hardware store, Benwick would naturally have met the girls on occasion walking along the street or playing in the yard. At 12 years old, Bethany was probably old enough to baby-sit her younger sisters and with their parents only working a few blocks away, they probably spent a lot of time at home. Benwick, a commissioned salesman, would have had plenty of opportunity to know the Harville girls, if he chose to.

Elizabeth did not know where her train of thought was leading to, but the proximity between Benwick's house and that of the Dashwood's troubled her. Something in her gut told her that she should be talking to Benwick today. She pulled on her jacket and drove off.

For some reason, she drove the car past the corner where Bethany had been killed. As she passed it, what she had scribbled down in the middle of night made sense to her now. The church was on the same side of the street as the subdivision, but the young girl had been killed on the other side, in front of the mall. What was she doing across the street when it was apparent that nothing was open that early in the morning? This question could only be answered by her parents or sister. But how was she to broach that subject without causing suspicion? That was another thing that she wrestled with.

*****

"So tomorrow, we'll meet with Ava and give her the final details," smiled Bingley.

Jane was not so sure. "I hope this works Charles."

"Me too," sighed Darcy.

"If it doesn't then we'll go on to Plan B!" offered Bingley.

"What's Plan B?" inquired a hopeful Darcy.

"I haven't thought about it yet."

*****

Elizabeth questioned Benwick, mercilessly, as she would have on the witness stand. She believed that he was telling the truth, or rather that he was so drunk that he did not know the truth.

She went back to the hotel room, ordered dinner in, and wrote down everything that happened this day.

"Hi, I'm here to see Mr. Carleton Harville."

"Do you have an appointment?"

"No, I don't. Is he available?" Elizabeth rarely had to use this type of deception, but she flashed the secretary her card. It said: 'A.D.A. Elizabeth Bennet' right above her cell phone number, it was not a lie, it just was not current.

The secretary called her employer, then after a few moments Elizabeth was pointed in the direction of his office.

"Third door on the left."

"Thank you."

Elizabeth walked towards the office, taking in the plush furniture and photographs of completed buildings.

Harville peeked around his door. "Miss Bennet?"

"Yes, Mr. Harville," she extended her hand.

He shook it. "How may I help you?"

"I have a few questions about your stepdaughters."

He sat down in his chair behind his teak desk. "Bethany and Corrine? What about them?"

"I'm doing some footwork for Henry Crawford and..."

"Crawford?! The guy who's defending the creep that killed Bethany?!"

"The man who allegedly killed Bethany. The charge hasn't been proven yet."

"And you're trying to dig up some bullshit to get the bastard off?!"

This was not going as well as expected. "Mr. Harville, if James Benwick killed your stepdaughter, he'll go to jail, but if someone else was driving his car then he's innocent and deserves to have the guilty person brought to justice... Wouldn't you agree?"

He glared and folded his arms. "What do you want to know?" His rolled up shirtsleeves had inched higher, exposing a tattoo on his left forearm, nearer to his elbow.

"On January 17^th, the night before Bethany's accident..." Elizabeth sucked in her breath as she noticed the ladybug tattoo.