12. Certain Ppl You Just Keep Coming Back To

Author's Notes: You guys will never know how much your reviews mean to me. Thank you so much for all the comments, not only on the story, but on the art I did for it as well. :]

Also thanks to my beta, who is more of an inspiration than I think she's aware...and who I'm gonna continue to nag until she updates her own story.

I have more to say, but I'll save it till the end cause I don't want to give anything away. Enjoy!

Closer by everymonday

Chapter Twelve: Certain People You Just Keep Coming Back To

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September 1; 5:30PMIt was good that Charlotte ran up to Lizzie and engulfed her in a tight hug; otherwise Lizzie wouldn't have recognized her. Charlotte was wearing a green, tweed tulip skirt with a demure white top. Her hair was about six inches shorter and her face had about twice as much make up than Lizzie was used to seeing on her.

"Charlotte," Lizzie greeted, struggling to keep the surprise out of her voice. "You look…great."

Charlotte grinned. "Thanks, Lizzie. I feel great."

Lizzie inspected her friend's face briefly and saw no deception in it, so she smiled back. "I'm glad."

"You look good too, Lizzie." Before Lizzie could even open her mouth to reply, Charlotte continued. "I can't wait to show you the house and everything. I'm so excited! Although, I do I wish you had decided to stay with me instead of a hotel."

"It'd be weird if I was the only guest to stay with you, wouldn't it?" Lizzie said, pointing to an old valise on the conveyer belt. "That's my stuff." She grabbed it, and Charlotte looked around.

"Is there anymore?"

Lizzie shook her head, holding her carry on and garment bag up with her free hand. "Just these."

Charlotte nodded and took the valise from Lizzie and began to lead her to the exit. "So do you want to change and then go to Rosings?"

"Change?" Lizzie asked, confused.

"Well, you can't wear that to meet Catherine de Bourgh, Lizzie." Charlotte laughed.

"Why not?" She was wearing old blue jeans and a soft yellow knit tee with a banded scoop neck and back line. She considered it an improvement from the leotard and tights she'd worn to practice, which she'd planned on just putting sweat pants and a jacket over, but Mallory had warned her that it would probably hot in Texas. Figuring she might as well change into something normal, she chose the first outfit she could find.

"You can't wear jeans to meet Mrs. De Bourgh, Lizzie. You have to at least wear a skirt or something," Charlotte explained as if she was speaking to a five year old. Suddenly, her cell phone rang. "Hello?"

Lizzie was still annoyed at having to change just to go meet some woman, so she wasn't listening to Charlotte's conversation. She focused on not taking out her annoyance on her friend, especially since she hadn't seen Charlotte in more than six months.

By the time they got to Charlotte's silver Lexus, she was almost hyperventilating. "Shit, Lizzie. We have to go straight to Rosings."

"Why?" Lizzie asked, wishing she'd paid more attention.

"Dinner is at 6:30. We have to go now."

"That's almost an hour away! Don't you want me to change? I have to put my stuff in my hotel too."

"Austin traffic is horrible, Lizzie. We'll be lucky if we make it," Charlotte said, panic evident in her eyes.

September 1; 6:00PMCharlotte hadn't been kidding when she said that Austin traffic was horrible. However, despite the bumper-to-bumper traffic and Charlotte's worry about both of them being underdressed, Lizzie enjoyed the ride.

Austin was a bit of a disappointment for Lizzie, who had been expecting cowboys on horses and tumbleweeds blowing in the wind. There were no cowboys or horses. People drove in cars just like in New York, though taxis here were noticeably scarce and trucks were abundant. People drove insanely fast, and apparently it was legal because the speed limit sign they just passed said 80. Lizzie had been expecting farms and fields, but Austin seemed to be a city just like any other. Lizzie began to think that she'd been watching too many movies.

"I'm so grateful that you came, Lizzie," Charlotte was saying.

"You're my friend," she insisted.

Charlotte beamed at her. "Thank you, Lizzie."

"Are you really happy, Charlotte?" Lizzie asked softly, not wanting to offend her friend, but needing to know the answer.

The older brunette took her eyes away from the road for a moment to meet Lizzie's eyes unwaveringly. "I am," she said with conviction. "I really am, Lizzie."

Lizzie nodded, deciding that as long as her friend was at least happy, she could accept this.

"I know you don't agree with what I'm doing," Charlotte said slowly. "Collin has been really good for me though." She looked away before continuing. "I've never been anything special, Lizzie. I've never been the smartest or the prettiest or the best at anything, but with Collin, I feel like I'm special. You know?"

Again, Lizzie nodded.

"I feel like someone finally sees me and loves me. I know this started out as just a way to escape the life I had." Charlotte winced at her admission, but continued. "Now, I really do love him. I love the way he makes me feel."

Listening to Charlotte's soft, honest voice made Lizzie feel even worse for the fact that she'd considered skipping out on her friend's wedding. She put her hand on Charlotte arm and squeezed lightly. "I'm really happy for you, Char," Lizzie said truthfully.

Charlotte smiled at her tearfully. "I'm so glad you're here, Lizzie."

September 1; 6:15PMTalking to Charlotte made her realize how much she'd truly missed her friend, and she was sorry when the car pulled into a long driveway behind a very large three-story house.

"I can just try to find something decent to wear now," Lizzie offered.

Charlotte shook her head. "No, it'll be wrinkled, and she hates that too. Plus, where would you change?" Her friend sighed. "I'm sorry in advance."

September 1; 6:20PMThe first thing Catherine de Bourgh said to Lizzie was that her feet were disgusting. Lizzie had heard a lot of things about her feet throughout her life. A lot. People had called them fast, graceful, valuable, amazing, ideal, perfect. Never had anyone every called them disgusting.

She looked down at said feet in question. They were in a pair of old, black flip-flops, peeking out from under her long jeans. She couldn't see anything wrong with them, really. They weren't dirty. She'd even gotten a French pedicure in preparation for the wedding, though they were a little chipped from practice today. Lizzie looked back up to meet Catherine de Bourgh sharp eyes. "I'm sorry?" she replied, not quite sure how else to respond.

Mrs. De Bourgh was a very thin woman dressed in a long black dress that made her look even thinner. Her face looked as if perhaps she'd had one too many injections of botox. Her eyes were a familiar gray color, but held no warmth. They bore into Lizzie's without apology. "I said that your feet are-"

"No, I heard you," Lizzie interrupted, not needing to hear the insult again. "I was just saying sorry. I'm sorry you think so."

"I just meant that they're scabbed and scarred. They're rather unattractive," she clarified, harsh tone not changing.

"A sign of hard work, I think," Lizzie replied.

"Hard work? What is it that you do, Miss Bennet?" Ms. De Bourgh asked.

"I'm a ballet dancer," Lizzie answered, raising her chin a fraction.

"Yes, Collin told me that, but you are no longer employed, isn't that right? It was all over the papers. Your company refused to renew your contract. Why do your feet look like they've been recently injured? I almost expect them to start bleeding right now!"

Lizzie clenched her fist, but before she could retort, an unfamiliar voice said, "Are you really giving the girl grief about her feet?"

All heads turned to the voice, but before Lizzie's eyes reached the owner of the voice, her eyes landed on Will Darcy. She recognized surprise in his eyes, mirroring her own, as she studied his face silently. Was he here for the wedding? She wondered. She was struck once again by just how handsome he was. His face had not changed at all since she last saw him. He was staring intently at her in a way that made her nervous. She quickly looked away, to the man standing next to him. He shared a few common features with Will – dark hair, straight nose, strong jaw line. His eyes were a warm, brown color, and he was smiling at her, unlike Will.

"Hello. Rich Fitzwilliam," he said to her, moving toward her to offer his hand.

She reached to shake it with a small smile of her own. "Hi, Elizabeth Bennet."

Recognition dawned on his face, and he gave a furtive glace to Will before turning back to her and asking, "Will's Elizabeth?"

Will and Ms. De Bourgh both scowled at Rich.

"You know my nephew?" Ms. De Bourgh asked.

It took Lizzie a moment to realize that she was referring to Will. "Yes, I met him in New York a while ago."

"I see." She turned to the young, frail-looking girl on her left. "This is my daughter, Anne."

Anne gave her a small smile, and Lizzie said hello politely.

"Should we move to the dining room then, Aunt?" Rich asked.

That got the older woman's hawk-like eyes away from Lizzie for a moment. "Good heavens! It's nearly 6:30! Yes, now that everyone is finally here, I suppose we can move. I swear, it seems I can only count on Collin to show up on time."

"It's 6:28!" Rich exclaimed. "You said dinner started at 6:30."

"Honestly, Richard. I hope you don't run your business like that," Mrs. De Bourgh scolded.

September 1; 6:32PMDinner was served on a beautiful mahogany dining table. Stubbornness kept Lizzie from complimenting it. She sat down in her assigned seat with much dismay, wondering who if everyone in Texas gave their guests assigned seating for a simple dinner. Dinner started a full two and a half minutes later than Catherine De Bourgh had intended and she would not let them hear the end of it.

"I will not tolerate it again, you know," the woman was berating.

The two men looked as if they were listening, but Lizzie swore she saw Rich roll his eyes.

As Lizzie looked around the dinner table, she realized that she was rather underdressed. All the men wore crisp button down shirts, Charlotte wore her tweed skirt, and Anne wore a very demure black dress that matched her mother's almost exactly.

Collin instantly began to engage Mrs. De Bourgh and Anne in conversation, and Charlotte soon joined in. Lizzie, who had no desire to converse with the woman, remained quiet as she stirred the soup around in its bowl, realizing she had no appetite right now.

"I trust you're well, Elizabeth?" Will asked from his seat next to her.

She turned to him, surprised that he was speaking to her. "Yes, thank you. You?"

"I'm quite well, thank you," he replied stiffly.

She nodded and turned back to her bowl of soup, believing the awkward, polite conversation was over and he'd continue ignoring her. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him open his mouth as if to say something more to her, but his aunt cut him off.

"How old are you, Miss Eliza?"

Lizzie briefly wondered if Collin still thought that was her name, remembering their time in the elevator months ago. "Twenty-five."

"Collin said you were twenty-four," Ms. De Bourgh countered.

Lizzie pondered why this woman would even ask a question if Collin had already told her all about her. "Well, you see, as months go by, people tend to age. Then, when one specific day comes, people move from one age to the next."

She heard a snort across from her, and she looked up to see Rich covering his mouth, mirth dancing in his eyes.

"I would think that by twenty-five, you'd have learned some manners," Ms. De Bourgh commented.

Lizzie bit back her retort when she saw Charlotte's pleading eyes. She sighed instead.

"Your mother was Faye Bennet, am I correct?" the older woman continued the interrogation.

"She still is."

"Excuse me?"

"You said was. She's not dead, you know."

"She's not in the public eye anymore," Collin reasoned haughtily, as if that was all it took for someone to be considered dead. "Your sisters are though. They're positively dreadful."

"They're just having fun," Lizzie shrugged, but even she knew that wasn't a good enough excuse for the twins' recent behavior. "They're cleaning up."

"Your mother has quite a fortune. It grieves me that she doesn't spend it on a proper education for you and your sisters," Ms. De Bourgh said, making her distaste quite clear.

"We're all quite happy with what we have," Lizzie replied. "No need to feel bad for us."

"Did you attend a private academy when you were younger?"

"We were all homeschooled."

"Homeschooled!" Mrs. De Bourgh cried. "How very dreadful!"

Lizzie knit her eyebrows. "Not dreadful at all, actually. Homeschool allowed us the attention we needed from our tutors so that we'd actually learn, rather than in a school where we'd need to compete for attention from an overworked teacher."

"Are you saying you don't believe in traditional education?"

"I don't believe it was for me," Lizzie clarified. "I don't feel like I missed out on anything by being homeschooled. I actually feel like I gained more."

"How so?"

"Well, my sister and I were tutored at the same time together, which made us closer, I think. That helped our relationship. I was also able to focus more on subjects that actually interested me and go at my own pace, rather than the pace deemed correct by the state."

"What about socializing?"

Lizzie shrugged. "I had my sister most of the time. Other times, we did various activities with other kids. I learned to swim, dance, and play sports with many girls my age."

"Do you have any talents?"

"Well, I'm a ballet dancer." Lizzie smiled, knowing that wasn't what Mrs. De Bourgh was asking for.

"Not anymore," the older woman countered. Lizzie scowled. "I meant to ask if you had any other talents. You say you took swimming lessons and played sports. Do you still do those things? Do you play the piano? Do you draw well?"

"No. I focused mainly on dancing."

"That's all you can do?"

Lizzie shrugged again.

"How awful for you," Ms. De Bourgh said, almost to herself.

"Aunt Catherine, what kind of soup is this?" Rich asked suddenly.

"New England clam chowder, Richard." Mrs. De Bourgh answered sharply.

"That's what I thought, but I wasn't sure because we're in Texas. Is there such thing as Texas clam chowder?" He stirred his soup around, a smile playing on his lips.

"Richard! I'm speaking to our guest. I don't have time to answer your childish questions." She turned back to Lizzie. "Did you go to college?"

"No," Lizzie replied, wondering how long this interrogation would last. She saw Rich give her a sympathetic look.

"Yes, Collin told me that."

"Then why did you ask?" Lizzie muttered.

If the older woman heard her, she didn't give any indication. Instead, she turned to the young girl on her left. "Anne was diagnosed with scoliosis over a year ago when she was seventeen. It was caught rather late, so we were worried. We moved here to get away from the busy New York scene and to get more privacy." Mrs. De Bourgh turned her cold gray eyes to Lizzie. "She wore a brace for a good amount of time, but we realized it wasn't working." Lizzie saw the girl's face color at her mother's words. "She had surgery over Christmas to correct it, and I'm certain she's fixed now." Lizzie wondered if the woman realized she was talking about her daughter like she was a toy. "My point is, Miss Eliza, that my daughter has had many more hardships than you and she still managed to continue her education."

"That's very admirable," she said honestly to Anne, who looked away quickly.

"Anne is going to be Charlotte's maid of honor," Mrs. De Bourgh informed her. "You must be very upset to not be in the wedding."

Lizzie recognized the bait but didn't go for it. "It's Charlotte's wedding." Lizzie glanced at Charlotte, who gave her an apologetic look. Then she turned to Anne. "I'm sure you will be a beautiful maid of honor."

Anne smiled timidly at Lizzie, but her mother, instead of being pleased by the compliment, glared at Lizzie suspiciously. "Yes she will. Tell me, do you plan on getting married soon?"

"No, I don't think so," Lizzie replied.

"But you are twenty-five!" The older woman looked positively aghast.

"I've still got time," she shrugged.

"Not that much time," Mrs. De Bourgh said. "Soon no one will have you."

"Mrs. De Bourgh," Charlotte said softly. "Lizzie's still young. After all, I was twenty-seven when I met Collin."

Lizzie shot her friend a grateful smile. "I'm more focused on my dancing right now."

"Dancing? Dancing won't bring you security like a husband will."

"Actually, I'd have to say that a husband won't bring me security like dancing will."

Mrs. De Bourgh looked shocked. "That's a very strange opinion. Don't you think you should give up dancing soon? When do you plan to give up this hobby of yours? You can't dance forever, you know."

Ignoring the fact that the woman had just called dancing simply a hobby, Lizzie replied, "I suppose that's why I'll just continue dancing until I can't anymore. If I had my way, I'd never give it up."

"Never?" Mrs. De Bourgh repeated incredulously. "Well, when do you think you will have children? Children need mothers to take care of them! How will you be able to take care of children when you are dancing?"

"I haven't really given it much thought."

"But you're twenty-five!" the older woman exclaimed.

"So?"

"You should be thinking about your future!"

"I am," she responded. "My future is dancing."

"That is not a suitable future."

"Says who?" Lizzie asked stubbornly.

Before Mrs. De Bourgh could give another biting reply, Rich asked her, "What time does the wedding start again, Aunt?"

"Richard! How many times must I tell you? You are the best man! You should know these things," she reprimanded.

Rich gave her a wink and continued to engage his aunt in conversation, allowing Lizzie to eat her food in relative peace.

"So you're dancing again?" Will asked her quietly after a few minutes of silence between the two of them.

"Yes," she answered still irritated. "I started again around March."

"I see." His voice was hard to discern.

"I was cleared to dance," she felt the need to state.

He nodded. "How is it going?"

"Fine." She had not expected him to ask.

"That's good."

She wondered if she should ask him about Charlie. She was dying to know if he knew anything.

"How's your family?" he asked, voice strained now, as if all this small talk was physically hurting him.

"Fine," she answered, wondering if he was referring to Jane, wondering if she should ask. "Jane's at Fashion Week in Milan again," she said, hoping he would say something about Charlie now.

"I hear it's nice this time of year," he replied, disappointing her.

September 1; 8:23PMLizzie sat quietly on the couch sipping her coffee, trying to be on her best behavior for Charlotte. They were talking about the wedding, but Lizzie was growing bored. She wondered when she could politely leave without offending anyone. She tried to stifle a yawn, but clearly didn't hide it well enough.

"Are we boring you, Miss Eliza?" Mrs. De Bourgh asked sarcastically.

"No," she replied as politely as possible. "I just had a very early morning."

"What time did your plane leave?" Will asked.

"In the afternoon," she answered. "But I was up early to practice." She steeled herself for the backlash she was sure would come from that comment.

"How often do you dance, Miss Eliza?" Mrs. De Bourgh asked imperiously.

"Everyday."

"Well no wonder you have no other talents!"

Lizzie could not stop herself from rolling her eyes.

"Anne can play four different instruments. William and Richard can play two. My niece, Ana, can play five. It's simply a tragedy that all you can do is dance."

"She dances quite well," Will said to his aunt, surprising everyone in the room.

Lizzie tried to make eye contact with him, but he was doing a very good job of avoiding it.

"You must at least know how to play piano," Mrs. De Bourgh insisted.

"No," Lizzie replied. "Not at all."

"You should learn! Every woman should know how to play piano."

What for? Lizzie thought. "May I be excused to the bathroom?"

September 1; 8:39PMLizzie took her time getting back from the bathroom, not eager to rejoin the group. She let her fingers lightly touch the old walls as she walked, imagining herself in this beautiful house with people she actually liked.

No, that wasn't true. She did like Charlotte. Despite everything, Lizzie still loved Charlotte. It did help that Charlotte loved Collin now and that she was happy. Lizzie was glad for her friend, but she was beginning to think attending this wedding was a bad idea though. Or, at least, getting to Texas this early, a whole two days before the wedding, was a bad idea. How on earth had Jane and Charlotte convinced her to do this? What was she even going to do here?

Lizzie walked for another few minutes before realizing she was lost. She sighed, wondering if she should try to find her way back or stay put so someone could find her. Not one to sit around, Lizzie continued walking.

"Did you get lost?" a voice behind her asked.

Whirling around, Lizzie found Will's cousin, Rich. "Maybe."

He grinned at her. "They're all wondering where you went. My aunt wants you to play piano for us."

Lizzie groaned. "Does she think I'm lying when I say that I don't play?"

"She's very stubborn," Rich said.

"Are you going to take me back to Boredom City now?" Lizzie asked, reluctant to go back.

He shrugged. "I'm actually thinking about heading back to the hotel. Want a ride?"

She liked the sound of that. "Are you staying at the Omni too?"

Rich nodded. "All the guests are."

"I have to talk to Charlotte first."

"We can sneak Charlotte's keys out of the cabinet and get your stuff out of her car. We'll leave without anyone noticing," Rich said, misunderstanding her.

She smiled. "No. I mean, that'd be nice, but I should say bye to Charlotte. I have to make plans with her for tomorrow anyway."

Rich made a face. "We'll have to brave Aunt Catherine again."

"I know." Lizzie bit her lip. "I can go alone if you just show me the way."

"Nah," Rich said. "I have to get Will, I suppose."

September 1; 9:08PMIt took longer than expected to get away from Mrs. De Bourgh, which, in retrospect, should have been expected. The woman made her nephews promise to come back the next day, but only made it very clear to Lizzie that she was being very rude by leaving.

"This is all you brought?" Rich asked her when he opened the trunk of Charlotte's car.

Lizzie shrugged. "I'm only going to be here for a few days."

He nodded and took her one suitcase out of the trunk and put it on the ground as Lizzie picked up her garment bag and carry on bag. "I'm going to return the keys. Will should be around with the car in just a second."

Just as Rich's figure disappeared, Will drove up in a black BMW. She picked up her suitcase with her other hand and walked to the back of the car, waiting for him to pop the trunk.

Instead, Will put the car in park, got out, and manually opened the trunk. Then he gently took the suitcase and carry on bag from her to deposit in the trunk himself. "Did you want to hang your garment bag in the back?" he asked politely.

She stared at him for a moment, confused about why he went through so much effort for something when she could have just done it herself. Before she could think about it more, she noticed he was looking at her expectantly. "No." She cleared her throat and put her garment bag on top of her bag in the trunk.

He closed the trunk, walked to the passenger side, and opened the door for her, giving her the same expectant look.

"Thank you," she said as she got into the car and put on her seat belt.

He shrugged and shut the door. A few seconds later, he was sliding into the driver's seat and putting the key in the ignition.

"Are we going to wait for Rich?"

"Yeah, I'm just going to drive the car around the front. It's easier for him, and we're going to have to go that way anyway," he answered.

Rich was waiting for them in the front and slid in the backseat easily. "Collin is a handful."

"That's what you get for agreeing to be his best man," Will told him, looking at his cousin in the rear view mirror.

Lizzie twisted around in her seat to look at Rich. "How did that even happen, anyway? I mean, you don't seem like you like him all that much."

"Does it show that much?" Rich cringed.

"No more than with the rest of us." Lizzie shrugged.

"I was just around when he proposed, so he asked me."

"Really?"

Rich nodded. "Do you think that's how he got Charlotte to agree to marry him? Right place, right time?"

Lizzie sighed. "He makes her happy."

"Really?" Rich looked intrigued.

"Yeah." Lizzie turned back around in her seat, not wishing to talk about it anymore.

"So I hear Will saved your leg," Rich commented after a few moments of awkward silence.

She stole a glance at Will's impassive face before turning around again to Rich. "Is that what he's telling people?"

"No," Will answered quickly.

"No," Rich agreed. "He's very modest."

Lizzie smiled. "I suppose he did. He convinced me to let him stitch it up which apparently helped."

"Even though they took the stitches out," Will muttered.

"Are you upset they took out all your hard work?" Lizzie teased.

Will didn't answer.

"So is Will always this talkative around you?" Rich asked sarcastically.

Lizzie laughed. "It's an upgrade from when we first met, I suppose."

"I feel a story coming on," Rich grinned.

"Let's see, I first met Will at a party, where he talked to pretty much no one except Charlie and Caroline. I don't think he danced with anyone at all. He was the epitome of anti-social."

"Typical," Rich said, grin still in place.

"I went at Charlie's request," Will said defensively.

"Charlie was probably trying to get you to be more social." Rich laughed.

"I didn't know anyone at that party."

"And parties are just terrible places to meet people," Lizzie scoffed.

"I'm not a people person. I never have anything to say to people," Will insisted.

Lizzie grinned at Rich. "Should we ask Dr. Darcy how he could be a man of sense and education, and yet have nothing to say to people?"

"I can answer you." Rich grinned back at her. "It's because he can't trouble himself."

"I don't have the talent of conversing easily with strangers," Will said, voice full of restraint. "I do believe small talk to be pointless, but that's not to say I haven't tried. I just find that I am no good at appearing interested in things I have no interest in, and would hate for someone to have to do the same for me. I'd rather skip the whole mess."

"How do you expect to get to know people if you don't go through the painful small-talk part first?" Lizzie asked curiously.

Will shrugged.

"It gets easier the more you do it," she told him. "It's also easier if you don't think of it as pretending to be interested. You just have to push on until you find a topic both people are interested in. You just have to make it worth your trouble to practice. Practice makes perfect, you know."

"Your etiquette lessons are wasted on him," Rich warned her.

"I can't decide if that was an etiquette lesson or a ballet lesson," Will muttered.

Lizzie looked at his face, saw his lips curved up, and realized he was trying to make a joke. "Maybe the last part was."

"As well as the first," he said.

"Yes, so I apply ballet to a lot of things." Lizzie shrugged.

"Much better use of your time than piano," Rich added. "Do you really practice every day?"

"Yep."

Rich let out a low whistle. "I admire your commitment."

Lizzie smiled at him. "Four or five hours a day."

"Okay, now I just think you're crazy."

"Is it wise to be exerting yourself so much?" Will questioned, frowning at her briefly before turning his eyes back to the road.

Lizzie pursed her lips. "It's fine."

"I just think that-"

"Will," Rich interrupted. "Don't nag."

"I'm not nagging!"

Rich looked at Lizzie. "He does this a lot," he stage whispered.

"The nagging or the denying that he nags?" Lizzie whispered back.

"Stop that," Will bit out.

"Maybe he'll understand how annoying nagging is if you nag him about something," Rich suggested.

"Like what?"

"Nag him about how he doesn't have a date for the wedding."

"Neither do you!" Will exclaimed. "And quit talking about me like I'm not here."

"I don't have a date either," Lizzie told Rich. "So we can't nag him about that."

"You could be my date. Then we could both nag him."

Lizzie laughed. She glanced at Darcy to see him gripping the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles were white. His face was unreadable as always, but something in his eyes made Lizzie feel badly for him. "Nah," she said to Rich. "I wouldn't make a good date."

"Are you just saying that because you're holding out for some prince charming at the wedding?" Rich asked suspiciously. "Because I'm going to tell you right now. I'm about as good as it gets."

She laughed again. "No worries. I won't be scoping out Collin's friends."

"Got a boyfriend at home?" Rich asked curiously.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Will look at her as well. She turned her head completely so she could make eye contact, but he looked away quickly as soon as he realized what she was doing. "You just heard me say I dance for five hours a day, everyday. Do you really think I'd have a boyfriend?"

Rich shrugged. "I don't know what you do with the rest of your day. Plus, you're a ballet dancer. Don't guys go crazy for that sort of thing?"

"You'd think so," Lizzie answered ruefully. "Everyone wants to date a ballet dancer until they realize we spend insane amounts of time practicing and don't have time for them."

"It's the same with doctors," Will said quietly.

This time, he did meet her eyes, if only for a brief second, when she looked at him.

"That's Will's excuse for not dating," Rich told her.

She thought she heard Will give a sigh, but she wasn't sure. He wasn't looking at her, but at least his fingers weren't gripping the steering wheel so tightly anymore.

"We're here," he announced softly.

Lizzie turned back around in her seat and realized that they were parked near the front of a very grand hotel.

Will got out and opened Lizzie's door as she was just reaching for the handle. "Thank you," she said again, feeling awkward.

Rich was taking her things out of the trunk, and neither man would allow her to carry her luggage. So she walked with them, feeling even more awkward, especially when they waited for her to check in. It turned out that Will's room was right across the hall from hers, and Rich's was next to his.

"You headed to bed?" Rich asked.

Lizzie nodded. "Charlotte and I are going shopping tomorrow, and I'm really tired anyway."

"Have a good night then." Rich smiled at her. She found his easy smiles reminded her of Charlie.

"Good night, Elizabeth," Will said softly, staring intently at her.

The awkward feeling came back, but she ignored it. "Good night."

Author's Note (part deux): Okay, so I just wanted to defend my version of Charlotte and Collin for a second. I know Collin is ridiculous, and he has his own selfish reasons for wanting to be married, but I think he's a decent guy that deserves a little credit. He is providing Charlotte with a good home, and like Charlotte says in this chapter, she's never been special, but Collin makes her feel that way. Also, note the wording. Charlotte says she loves him and the way he makes her feel (special). She never says she's in love with him. So in my mind, it's plausible for Charlotte to eventually just love him, even if it's not the kind of crazy romantic love most people dream of. That's about this story is about really, an exploration of the different kinds of love and how it drives people to do what they do: Lizzie's love for ballet, her love for her sister, Darcy's inevitable love for Lizzie, Collin's love for Catherine De Bourgh, Charlotte's love for Collin...So yeah, that's what drove me to write Charlotte the way I did.

As always, I'd love to hear your opinions (even if you disagree with me). So leave me a review please. :]