7. Barely Even Knows Him But If She Could

Author's Notes: Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed or PMed me (especially geril, I'm terribly sorry I told you it'd be ready by the weekend lol).I'm so, so, so sorry for taking so long with this chapter! I can't believe it's been over two weeks! This chapter was terribly difficult to write for some reason, and I had a lot of stuff to do for school. My apologies! All I have to offer you is this super long chapter (almost 8,000 words!!!!). I rewrote it several times, and my beta edited it twice! I'm even staying up late to upload it lol. So I truly hope you enjoy it. Please let me know what you think. :]

Also, I hate that the site thinks my chapter titles are too long (even though they kind of are lol). So just fyi, the real chapter titles as I intend them to be are in the chapter, not the drop down bar.

Yes, yes, I'll stop rambling so you can read.

Closer by everymonday

Chapter Seven: Barely Even Knows Him But If She Could See Inside

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January 19; 8:42AMLizzie quickly covered up a yawn with the back of her hand and glanced at the clock on the wall as she passed it. She was about fifteen minutes early. She rubbed her tired eyes for a moment, wishing she'd taken Jane up on her offer for coffee this morning. She had been used to waking up this early, but unfortunately, the last few weeks had spoiled her.

She didn't like the way her shoes squeaked on the tile floor of the quiet hospital. She tried walking slowly, but it just prolonged the inevitable. She stopped abruptly to look down at her shoes. They were just black ballet flats she'd received as a gift a few months ago. She had no idea why they were squeaking. Perhaps it was the floor. Maybe it was a sign she should have stuck to lounge pants and sneakers. She scowled. She was tired of lounge pants. She'd actually gotten dressed for her appointment today. Sure, it was just a pair of soft, old jeans that didn't irritate her scabbing leg, a white tank top and black cardigan, and a deep green scarf. It was simple, but it was better than the lounge pants that she'd been living in lately. Lizzie fumbled with the buttons of her black coat as she walked, hoping to distract her fingers.

Her head itched, and she was trying not to scratch it. It would irritate the scab. Last time she'd scratched, her fingers had come back bloody as she'd picked the scab off before it was ready. She adjusted the oversized beret on her head and continued walking, hoping no one would talk to her today. She wasn't in a good mood. She didn't want to deal with friendly, happy nurses and receptionists today.

She stared at her feet as she walked towards the elevator, avoiding eye contact and not at all looking forward to another physical therapy session.

A man ran right into her, stepping on her injured foot. The cut there was still healing, so it hurt like the devil. She bit back a cry of pain.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Miss."

She nodded in acknowledgment and was preparing to limp away, but he grabbed her arm.

"Are you alright?"

"Yes," she replied through gritted teeth. "Thanks."

"Did I hurt your foot?" he persisted.

Lizzie stood her full height, staring down at him. He was about three inches shorter than her with light brown hair that seemed to be receding a bit, small brown eyes, and a genuinely worried expression. She sighed. "You stepped on my foot that already has a severe wound on it."

"May I inspect it?" he asked.

She wondered why he was so persistent. "No. It's quite alright."

"I'm perfectly certified. I'm a physical therapist, you see," he explained.

"I already have one of those," she sighed, not wanting to be reminded of the morning ahead of her.

His eyes lit up. "Oh! Do you really? What for?"

"My leg." Lizzie answered simply, scowling.

"You seem to be walking fine though."

She wondered what kind of physical therapist this guy was, asking people their business and making assumptions. Maybe he was one of those creepy stalkers that pretended to be helpful then dragged you into a back alley to rape you and steal your money and your dignity. She eyed the emergency exit furtively just in case, quickly calculating how fast she would be able to run for it. Her therapist did say not to run…but this was a dire emergency.

"Miss? Are you okay? Did you hear me?" he asked.

"I'm fine," she answered, noticing that his hand was still on her arm. It wasn't too tight or threatening, but maybe he was lulling her into a false sense of security.

"I'm Collin Perry," he said, taking his hand off her arm to offer it to her.

She looked at him warily. Maybe this was his first time trying to kill someone. Maybe he didn't know that he wasn't supposed to introduce himself. "Eli," she stopped, not wanting to give her real name. "Za," she finished lamely, cursing her slow mind for not giving a better fake name. "Eliza," She repeated with more conviction, not taking his hand. Instead, she took advantage of the fact that his hand wasn't on her and started walking towards the elevator.

"And what is it that you do, Miss Eliza?" he asked, looking her up and down.

She cringed, not liking the way his eyes roamed her body. "I'm a dancer."

"A dancer!" he exclaimed. "I've never met a dancer before."

Lizzie made a noncommittal noise in response, trying to think of a polite way to get away from him. She pressed the up button on the elevator and waited.

"What kind of dancer?"

"Ballet," she answered, looking at the elevator numbers longingly, wishing they'd move faster.

"Ballet! Oh, my employer, Ms. Catherine de Bourgh, simply adores ballet! She loves all the fine arts, really."

"Erm," Lizzie began, not quite sure how to respond. "That's nice."

"I'm sure she'd really like you," he said, nodding his head, eyes studying her in that creepy fashion again. Lizzie had a very distinct feeling that she was being checked out by a pervert.

The elevator doors finally opened with a quiet bing. "I really must get going now," she announced, looking at her wrist as if there was a watch there. "I have a physical therapy appointment."

"Oh! On the sixth floor? I have to go there myself!" he said, stepping into the elevator with her.

Oh, god. Here it comes, she thought. He's going to try to knock me unconscious now. She mentally went through all the things she'd learned about self-defense. The elbow was the sharpest part of your body. Kick out taillights if she was put in a trunk? Was that right? For god sake's, Lizzie, you live in New York, she scolded herself. How do you not know this?

She reached for the number six button, but he stopped her. "Oh, no, Miss Eliza!" he cried. "Allow me." He pressed the button and gave her a grin, as if he just did her a huge favor and she should be eternally grateful she didn't have to push the damn button. The doors of the elevator closed, effectively trapping her in with this Collin Perry and awkward conversation.

He bounced on the balls of his feet for the first few floors, humming to himself.

He didn't seem very threatening at this point, but Lizzie kept her guard up.

"How old are you?" he asked suddenly, just when Lizzie thought she'd be able to enjoy a nice semi-quiet elevator ride

"Thirty," she lied, hoping an older age would make her less of a target.

"I'm thirty-two," Collin replied, as if she'd asked.

Luckily, the elevator doors opened and Lizzie was saved from having to respond. She stepped out and walked towards the physical therapy office. He followed her. Lizzie groaned, wondering what she'd done to deserve this. Hadn't karma paid her back in full with this stupid wound? Why add a creeper to the mix?

"Do you plan to stop dancing any time soon?" he asked, walking along side her. "To settle down and have a family?"

"No."

"You're injured! You could stop now and no one would judge you," he said.

She sighed. She sped up her pace, despite the pain that was beginning to develop in her leg. When she got to the receptionist, she said, "Hi, I'm Elizabeth Bennet. I have an appointment at nine?"

The blonde receptionist looked up at her with a smile. "Yes, Dr. Hays is ready for you. Go right on in."

Lizzie nodded gratefully and walked quickly to Dr. Hays's office. She knocked on the door, and while she waited, she heard the receptionist say, "Oh, Mr. Perry. I'm not authorized to give out patient information."

January 19; 11:55AMLizzie walked out of the office on very tired legs, glad Collin Perry was nowhere to be seen. She took her hair out of its ponytail and ran her fingers through it. It was slightly wet. She grimaced. She stared at her wet hands for a moment, wondering how these tasks that had come so easily to her a month ago now made her break into a sweat.

"Hey, Liz."

She was about to tell the person that she hated being called Liz, but then she saw the person was George Wickham. One look at his handsome face and baby blue eyes convinced her that he could call her anything he wanted.

"Hey, George." She smiled.

"I just got called to this floor. You didn't throw up again, did you?"

She blushed, remembering the first time he'd seen her. "No," she replied. "Not me this time."

He laughed. "Good. You're looking a lot better than before."

"Well, last time you saw me, I had vomit everywhere."

He laughed again. "Yes, that is true. How's your leg?"

Lizzie hated this question. "Fine."

He nodded. "Imagine my surprise when I went to your room to visit you, and there was an old lady in there."

"Did you really come visit me?"

"Yep. But like I said, there was an old lady there. She had an injured leg too. I thought maybe you aged fifty years."

"You're a smart one." She laughed.

He grinned at her. "Maybe I was just really hoping it was you. Old lady Liz is better than no Liz, right?"

Lizzie felt herself blush again. "You're quite a charmer."

"I try," he replied, not missing a beat.

Did his dimples have to be so damn adorable? Did his eyes have to shine so nicely? Did his voice have to have such a lovely baritone sound? She sighed and pushed hair out of her face, more for something to do than out of necessity.

George's pager went off, and he winced. "Well, as much as I'd love to stand here and talk to a pretty girl, I have to get going." He held up the pager. "Duty calls."

Lizzie nodded. "I'll see you around?"

He smiled another charming smile. "Of course."

January 19; 2:39PM"His name's George. He works at the hospital. He's really cute, Char. He's got these gorgeous blue eyes. They're almost as pretty as Jane's," Lizzie told her friend. "He also has-"

"Excuse me, waitress? I'm ready to order now," a man at the next booth called. Charlotte gave Lizzie an apologetic smile and walked away.

Lizzie nodded as she watched her friend attend to her other table, wondering if she'd be in this situation soon too. Seven months ago, Charlotte had sustained a minor ankle sprain and she was ordered to stay off of it for six weeks. When the six weeks were up, Charlotte tried dancing again, but complained that her ankle still wasn't feeling right, so she took another few weeks off. This continued for two months and when her contract ended, the company refused to renew it. Charlotte, out of a job and a steady income, took up a waitressing job as a temporary means of paying for rent and groceries. It was supposed to be temporary until she could make DVDs to send out to get auditions to other ballet companies. It was supposed to be temporary, but seven months after the injury and four and a half months after her contract ended, Lizzie had yet to see her friend in the ballet studio.

Lizzie let out a quiet sigh. She wouldn't be like Charlotte, she decided. As soon as they cleared her to dance, she'd be back in the studios. She had the best physical therapist in New York, and she'd hire a personal trainer and ballet coach soon. She would do everything she possibly could to dance again. She'd never allow herself to be a waitress like Charlotte. Lizzie swallowed her guilt, knowing she shouldn't judge Charlotte like this. Their circumstances were different. She could only expect so much from her friend.

"Sorry about that, Lizzie," Charlotte said, wiping her wet hands on her apron. "He had a really obscure order that took forever to put in and then it was my turn to take out the trash."

Lizzie nodded. "It's fine."

"So, you were saying about George? He works at the hospital?"

"Oh," Lizzie said, frowning. She'd forgotten they were even talking about the attractive man. "Yeah. He's not a doctor though."

"Nurse?" Charlotte asked.

Lizzie shook her head. "He's a janitor."

Charlotte frowned. "That doesn't bother you?"

"Well, it's not like I plan on marrying him. He's cute. I like to talk to him." Lizzie shrugged.

"I guess," her friend replied skeptically. "That would bother me. Any guy I date has to have a respectable career."

You don't have a respectable career, Lizzie thought bitterly. She bit her tongue and swallowed the words. "Have you made your audition DVDs yet?" she asked instead.

Charlotte's face darkened. "No, not yet. I don't really have time."

"You don't have time?" Lizzie asked incredulously.

"Well, I have to work all the time," Charlotte gave as an excuse.

"Maybe when I get cleared to dance, we can make our DVDs together," Lizzie tried.

"Maybe," the older brunette replied vaguely. "I'll be right back. Let me check on my other table."

Lizzie nodded again, recognizing this as Charlotte's need to escape the topic. She watched her go talk to the man at the other table for a minute before disappearing into the kitchens. She couldn't help but feel annoyed at her friend, her friend who was perfectly able to dance, but didn't seem to want to.

She took one last bite of her neglected salad, not very hungry anymore.

Charlotte came back a moment later with a small smile. "So how was the rest of your day before seeing George?" she asked, acting as if the previous conversation hadn't happened.

"It was fine. I met this really creepy guy," Lizzie replied, giving in, deciding she shouldn't nag her friend.

"Really? Where?"

"Before my appointment. He stepped on my foot. He could have just apologized and left, but then he kept talking to me."

"About what?"

"Random stuff. He said he was a physical therapist and that he'd never met a dancer. Apparently his employer really likes ballet and would like me."

"Who's his employer?"

"I don't know. De something."

"De something?" Charlotte repeated, amused.

"Well, I just remember that part." She pushed her plate away, figuring it was better to stop now than make herself sick on lettuce.

"What else did he say?"

"He asked me how old I was. I lied and said thirty."

Charlotte guffawed. "Thirty? Really? Lizzie, you don't look older than twenty-five. You still get carded sometimes."

Lizzie smiled. "I thought he was creepy! I didn't want him to rape me or something!"

"So you thought he'd be unwilling to rape a thirty year old?"

"Hey!" Lizzie cried. "I didn't want to seem young and vulnerable."

Charlotte shook her head. "You are so ridiculous."

"No! He's ridiculous," she replied, still smiling. "He asked me how old I was, and then asked if I was planning on settling down and having a family sometime. Then he-"

"Well, you are thirty. High time to settle down, don't you think?" Charlotte interrupted.

"Then he talked about how he was thirty something," Lizzie continued, ignoring her friend's sarcasm. "He said it was time for him to settle down, and then just stared at me."

"Sounds like he wanted a trophy wife."

"What? You think so?"

"Sure. He was testing you out."

"Ew, gross, Char."

"I call 'em as I see 'em, Lizzie."

"Well, don't." Lizzie scowled. "Trophy wives are so creepy."

"Creepy?" Charlotte laughed. "You still can't get over Stepford Wives, huh?"

Lizzie shook her head. "Hey. Did Jane tell you about the party?"

"Yeah, she called me a few nights ago. Why's she throwing a party? Doesn't she have to go to Milan soon?

"Yeah. She's worried about me." She rolled her eyes. "The NYCB Gala is coming up. That's when they'll announce who will be replacing me. Jane wants to throw a party to get my mind off of that," she explained. "Jane worries I'll get depressed if I don't have a party to get dressed up for."

"Your older sister is sickeningly nice," her friend commented.

Lizzie nodded in agreement. "It's not even necessary. I don't care." Charlotte looked at her skeptically, but she ignored it. "Jane would love an excuse to throw one last party and show off her apartment anyway."

"Oh, yeah. You guys are moving in together, right? Are you packed up yet?"

"I still have a while." Lizzie grinned.

"Jane's going to kill you if you're not packed up soon."

"Jane can't kill me. She's too nice."

"Still," Charlotte reasoned. "Your lease ends in a less than two weeks, doesn't it?"

"Yeah. I'm going to put most of my stuff in storage, then stay with Jane. Her lease doesn't end until March, so we won't be moving into the new place until she gets back from Milan."

"Is the new place bigger than Jane's apartment now?"

Lizzie nodded. "If you can believe that."

Charlotte had an unreadable expression on her face. "How are you going to be able to pay rent?"

"For now, severance package, I suppose," Lizzie replied. "Then I'll eventually start dancing again."

Her friend nodded. She took Lizzie's abandoned plate and said she'd be back.

Lizzie frowned, not appreciating Charlotte walking away every time they got to an uncomfortable topic. She reached for her purse, rummaging for her phone so she could check the time. She hoped Charlotte would come back with the check. Lizzie felt like getting out of there and taking a walk.

Charlotte came back and handed Lizzie the check. "You didn't want dessert or anything, did you?"

"No." Lizzie smiled. "So, you are coming to Jane's party right? I'm thinking about inviting George."

"I'll see if I can get someone to cover my shift."

"Oh, Char, you have to come. I haven't seen you outside of your work or the hospital in ages."

"I know. Let's have lunch sometime soon, yeah?"

Lizzie nodded. "When are you free?"

"I'll check my schedule," Charlotte said.

Lizzie opened her mouth to reply, but a man in the back called, "Lucas! I need to talk to you!"

Charlotte rolled her eyes, but Lizzie chewed her lip. "Did I get you in trouble?"

"I'm always in trouble," Charlotte mumbled as she walked away.

Lizzie waited for her friend for about five minutes before growing bored. She threw a twenty on the table and left before Charlotte could come out and reject the large tip.

January 24; 7:34PMLizzie was late. Late, late, late. She rubbed sleep out of her eyes and began looking for her cell phone, wondering why on earth she thought it would be a good idea to put it on silent. She was supposed to be at the restaurant five minutes ago, but she'd fallen asleep for two hours. Maneuvering around the boxes in her living room, she tried to find some shoes to wear with the jeans she had planned on looking for in a minute. She pulled off her ratty old shirt as she walked, stubbing her toe in the process.

"Fuck," she swore, wincing in pain. She looked around and picked up a pale blue cashmere sweater strewn on the ground. Sniffing it twice, she deemed it clean enough to wear. She pulled it over her head frantically, but didn't put her arms in the sleeves because she needed to find a bra first. Quickly pulling off her lounge pants, she left them on the floor as she went in search of a bra. She picked up a black one and found her phone underneath it. Five missed calls from Jane. "Fuck," she swore again.

She dialed her sister's number, pressed the speakerphone button, then put the phone on the counter.

"Lizzie, where are you?" Jane's voice said.

"I'm sorry, Janie. I fell asleep!" Lizzie cried, snapping her bra on and pushing her arms through the sleeves of the sweater. She spotted some jeans on the ground.

"What? You fell asleep?" Jane asked in disbelief.

"I'm sorry," she moaned, pulling the jeans on. "I'm getting dressed now. Can I wear jeans?"

"No, Lizzie, you have to at least wear dress pants."

"Fuck," she swore for the third time. "Okay. I'll look for some. Just go ahead and order without me, okay?"

"It's not a big deal, Lizzie. Charlie's running late too."

"He is?" Lizzie asked. "So I can take my time?"

"Well, no. I sent Will to go get you."

"What?" Lizzie exclaimed. "But Jane!"

"I have to stand in line."

"Didn't you make reservations?"

"Yes, but with you not answering your phone, and Charlie being late, we're an incomplete party, and they don't seat incomplete parties!" She rambled, almost hysterical.

Lizzie groaned. "Why couldn't Will stand in line and you come get me? He probably could have paid the guy to get us a table and he could save it for us! Jane! I need you to help me find my pants!"

"We didn't think of that, and he was getting restless."

"You're a terrible sister," Lizzie said, just as she heard a knock on the door.

"That's probably him. Call me when you're on your way." Before Lizzie could say anything in protest, Jane hung up.

Lizzie buttoned her jeans and yelled, "Come in!"

She heard the door open, but paid no mind to it. She needed to find dress pants. Turning back toward her bedroom, she hoped she hadn't packed them yet.

"Elizabeth?" Will's voice called. "What happened to your apartment?"

Lizzie snorted. "A tornado!" she called back. "Make yourself useful and look for some dress pants, would you?"

"Dress pants?" His voice was closer now.

She pushed hair out of her face and dug around in her dresser, finding nothing but tights and leotards. Why hadn't she packed these first?

She stepped over a pile of shoes, knelt down and looked under her bed. "Why are you looking for dress pants?" he asked.

"Why do you think?" Lizzie felt around under her bed, but found nothing. She stood up quickly to find Will standing in the doorway of her bedroom, looking around with a carefully neutral expression. She scowled at him. "If you're not going to make yourself useful, just go sit in the living room."

"What's with the ballet shoes?" he asked, gesturing to the various Pointe shoes she had hanging on her walls. She hadn't bothered to take them down to pack yet.

"Well, I am a ballet dancer, you know."

He frowned at her. "They're so dirty."

"They're used." she corrected. "Loved." She ran her fingers through her hair, wincing when she found tangles. She moved to her dresser again, this time to look for a hairbrush. Flipping her head over, she started brushing out the knots. When she finished, she saw Will still staring at her shoes.

"Are they all yours?" he asked.

"No," she replied. She took some bobby pins and attempted to pin back her bangs. "The ones around the window aren't; the ones with signatures."

In the mirror, she saw him make a face. "Why do you have other dancers' old, dirty shoes?"

She sighed, giving up on the hair and simply putting it in a messy bun. Turning from the mirror, she walked to the window where seven pairs of Pointe shoes hung in a row. Her eyes held Will's as she touched a pair of shoes. "These are Peter Martins' shoes." At Will's blank look, she moved on with a quiet sigh. "These shoes belonged to Alexandra Ansanelli. She signed them after her last performance at NYCB, before she moved onto the Royal Ballet in England. These shoes are Marie Neilson's, given to me after my first Swan Lake performance." Recognition dawned on his face at Marie's name, and Lizzie guessed that he'd read a few articles about her. She wasn't sure how she felt about that.

"And those?" he asked, pointing to the shoes encased in a glass shadow box.

Lizzie touched the glass with her finger. "Margot Fonteyn," she said softly.

"Who?" Will asked.

Lizzie stared at him incredulously. "You don't know who Margot Fonteyn is?"

He shook his head.

"She's only one of the greatest dancers of the 20th century," she answered, still staring at the shoes. "She died in the 90's. My dad bought these at one of the many Galas he went to years and years ago. He gave them to me for my twelfth birthday."

"I see," was all he said.

Lizzie shook her head and walked past him. "You just don't get it," she muttered. She walked to the kitchen, looking inside a box labeled "Etc." She found two pairs of dress pants in it and wondered why she hadn't put them in the boxes labeled "Clothes."

One was less wrinkled than the other, so she chose that pair. She went into the bathroom and changed her pants, emerging from the bathroom at the same time Will emerged from her bedroom. They stared at each for a minute and Lizzie wondered why he had waited in her bedroom rather than the living room. "Ready?" she asked him sarcastically, picking up her coat and purse.

He had the same look she saw him wear during dinner a week ago. The one where he looked like he wanted to say something, but didn't. He shrugged instead, following her out.

January 24; 8:12PMThe restaurant was packed.

"Why didn't we just eat at Charlie's again?" Lizzie asked. Her voice sounded almost foreign after the painfully silent car ride.

Will shrugged. "I believe he's been wanting to take Jane here for a while."

"Why did we have to come then?"

"Jane worries about you and Charlie doesn't want her to, so he invites you as well. He thinks you're funny." He looked around for his friend and her sister.

Lizzie pointed at a pretty blonde couple sitting together intimately in the corner. "Why are you here?"

"So you don't feel like a third wheel." He led the way to them.

"We should both just decline next time," Lizzie suggested to his back.

There was a longer pause then usual.

"If you'd like," he replied, shrugging again.

January 26; 11:58AMLizzie leaned against the elevator wall tiredly and pressed the button to the ground floor. Her legs hurt, her eyes were tired, and her stomach was growling. Just as the elevator doors were closing, a man's leg stopped it.

In walked Collin Perry. Lizzie groaned audibly.

"Good morning, Miss Eliza."

Lizzie closed her eyes and tried to ignore him.

He didn't seem to notice. "It's a beautiful day out. The sun is shining. How are you today?" When she didn't answer, he moved closer to her. "Miss Eliza, are you alright?" She felt his hand on her shoulder and she slapped it away.

"I'm fine!" She opened her eyes to see him extremely close to her. She inched away.

"That's good to hear, although you do look rather green."

Lizzie didn't respond. She wished she had not been lazy and taken the stairs.

"I spoke to Ms. Catherine de Bourgh about you," Collin said casually.

She closed her eyes again, hoping that when she opened them, he'd be gone.

"She thinks you sound like a wonderful person," he continued. "I think Anne would like you a lot as well. I mean, I like you a lot. I feel as though I should not overlook your desire to continue with your career though."

Finally, the elevator doors opened. Lizzie walked out quickly, but Collin followed her even when she stepped out of the hospital and sat down on a bench.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

"I'm meeting a friend," she answered, hoping the fact that she was expecting someone would deter him.

"Oh, how wonderful. I'll wait with you so you're not alone." She sighed again. No such luck. After a few moments of silence, he asked, "So you're not interested in marriage at all?"

"No," she replied.

"I see," he said quietly, sounding disappointed, though she wasn't sure why. "I was going to ask you out. We have such a lovely connection, don't you think?"

She gawked at him, speechless.

He seemed to take this as encouragement. "Yes. In the short time I've known you, I pegged you as the companion of my future life."

Lizzie looked around wildly, wondering if she was on some sort of game show. Was Punk'd still on? Why would they punk her though? She wasn't a celebrity. She saw tall blonde run behind a building and wondered if Jane was playing a trick on her.

"However, if you're not interested in marriage or giving up your dancing career…If that's not your eventual goal, then I don't think this will work. I don't want to begin a relationship that has no future, you see." He sighed. "I shall have to look elsewhere."

"Try myspace," she muttered.

"Your space?" he asked, confused.

Just when Lizzie thought she would truly die from the ridiculousness of the situation, Charlotte appeared.

"Oh thank god," she said to her friend, getting up and almost running away from Collin.

Charlotte gave her a peculiar look. "Sorry I'm late."

"It's fine," Lizzie said, taking Charlotte's arm to leave. However, Charlotte was staring at something over Lizzie's shoulder.

"Who's your friend?"

"He's not my-"

"I'm Collin Perry," he said, approaching them,

"Charlotte Lucas," she replied, shaking his hand. "Are you the famous physical therapist?" she asked. "For the New York socialite?"

Lizzie frowned. Famous physical therapist? Had she missed something?

"Oh, I wouldn't say that I'm famous," Collin said airily. "Ms. De Bourgh is famous. I'm just known through association."

"I thought I recognized you. You work in Texas. That's where Ms. De Bourgh moved after Anne was diagnosed right?"

He nodded, smiling, clearly impressed by her knowledge of him.

Charlotte smiled back, and Lizzie's stomach growled again. "Can we please go?" she asked.

Charlotte ignored her and addressed Collin. "How's working with Anne de Bourgh?"

"She's an absolute delight, just like her mother. Her scoliosis is tragic, but I do love being able to help her."

"Should we get going to lunch, Charlotte?" Lizzie asked, tugging her friend's arm desperately.

"Want to join us?" Charlotte asked Collin.

January 29; 1:28PMLizzie stared at her wrist, wishing even more desperately for a watch. She wondered why Charlotte had even invited this strange man to lunch with them. She stretched her neck, trying to find the waiter to ask for her portion of the check so she could leave. Charlotte's giggling reverberated loudly in the spacious private room Collin had requested. Lizzie bit her lip to suppress an annoyed groan.

"That's so funny," Charlotte said between giggles. "Lizzie, did you get it?"

No, she thought. I don't get why you're talking to this weirdo.

"Yes," Collin said. "Ms. De Bourgh is quite a magnificent woman. She was the one that told me that joke. She possesses all the qualities a woman should. Her daughter is a sight to be seen as well. She is beautiful, just like her mother, and the scoliosis has only made her stronger. She's had surgery to fix it, and I'm certain that soon she won't need me anymore!"

"Oh, but then you'll be out of a job, Collin," Charlotte said.

Collin shook his head. "Ms. De Bourgh would never send me out without a good reference so that I could get a new job. She also said I would be able to live with her at Rosings for as long as I needed."

"Rosings?" Lizzie asked.

"It's a large estate in Texas, Lizzie," Charlotte explained.

"Yes, it overlooks Lake Travis in Austin. It's very grand. I'm very fortunate to have such a wonderful employer. I have the entire guest house to myself." Collin looked at Lizzie pointedly. "It has three bedrooms and two baths."

Lizzie politely tried to arrange her face to look impressed.

"I have my eye on a very large house that's up for sale next to Rosings though. It's much too big for one man, but I am hoping to find someone worthy of sharing my life with." He gave Lizzie an almost longing glance. She ignored it. "For now, it's a very lonely life for me," Collin continued with a sigh. "I mean, I do love my job, and I love the De Bourghs, but it is a very hard to dedicate one's life to this job."

"Do you not have friends?" Lizzie asked, trying not to sound sarcastic.

"As I said, my job consumes most of my life."

"Funny, my job consumed most of my life, and I still managed to make friends," Lizzie muttered. Charlotte gave her a reproachful look, but she didn't care. She was growing annoyed and restless, tired of watching Collin indecisively fawn over her and Charlotte at the same time.

The waiter finally came with the check. Lizzie reached for her purse to get her money, but couldn't find it. She frowned. "Char, have you seen my purse?"

Charlotte pulled her eyes from Collin for a second to look at Lizzie. "You didn't bring a purse, Lizzie."

Lizzie's frown deepened. "Are you sure?"

Collin and Charlotte both nodded, adding to her annoyance. She sighed. "I must have left it at the hospital."

"Are you sure?" Collin asked.

She glared at him. "Of course I'm sure." She looked at Charlotte. "Can I pay you back for lunch?"

Charlotte nodded, grabbing her wallet. Collin put his hand on Charlotte's and said, "I could never make you two pay for lunch. It's on me."

Lizzie rolled her eyes, but began to move from her seat. "I'm going to go back to the hospital."

"Oh, wait, Lizzie. We'll come with you," Charlotte said.

Lizzie would have been okay with just Charlotte, but not Charlotte and Collin. She blanched at the idea. Lizzie stood up. "No, it's fine, Char. No need for you to waste your time because of my stupidity. I'll call you later, okay?" She grabbed her coat and left them hastily without waiting for an answer.

January 29; 2:23PM"Excuse me," Lizzie said to the receptionist at the physical therapist office.

The blonde looked up from her magazine with a smile. "Hello, Miss Bennet. How can I help you?"

"I was wondering if you found a black purse anywhere? I think I left it here."

"Oh!" The receptionist exclaimed. "Dr. Darcy just picked it up to bring to the main desk. Let me just page him to come back and bring it here."

Lizzie frowned and watched the blonde press some buttons. "Dr. Darcy?" Lizzie asked.

"Yes, he came here looking for you earlier." The receptionist smiled. "He'll be here in just a minute. Is there anything else I can help you with?"

"Do you know why he was looking for me?"

The blond shook her head. "He didn't say. How do you know him?"

"Mutual friend," Lizzie muttered.

"Oh, he's rather attractive, isn't he?"

Lizzie made a noncommittal sound in reply, still confused as to why Will would be looking for her. She bit her thumbnail, cringing when she tasted chipped nail polish.

"He's so intimidating though," The receptionist continued, almost to herself. "I'm so afraid to talk to him. Everyone is."

"Everyone?" Lizzie asked.

"Well, everyone below him. My friend, Mariah, is one of his interns. She says he's very intimidating. He demands a lot from them. He's very aloof."

"Mmm," Lizzie replied, still chewing on her nail, despite the chipped nail polish taste. She really needed to quit this habit.

The receptionist looked behind her and said, "Oh, hello, Dr. Darcy."

Will nodded a greeting to the receptionist before looking at Lizzie. "Your sister called," he informed her, handing her the purse.

Lizzie scowled at him. "You went through my bag and checked my calls?"

He scowled back. "No. Charlie called me to ask if I'd seen you. Then he asked me to go see if you were still at your appointment. You weren't, but your bag was there, so I was taking it to the main desk for you."

"Oh," Lizzie said, finger still in her mouth. She swallowed, and then said, "Thanks."

He nodded and turned to walk away.

She thanked the receptionist before following Will.

"Thanks for, um, saving my leg too," Lizzie said, falling in step with him.

He gave her a sidelong glance before he replied, "You're welcome."

An uncomfortable silence passed between them. Lizzie chewed her lip for a moment, wondering why she didn't feel better. She thanked him just like she knew she should have a long time ago. Sparing a glance at Will, she caught the sour look on his face when he asked, "How have you been?"

"Good," she replied. "What about you? Fall asleep at anymore dinners?" she asked, referring to dinner at Charlie's the day before. He'd fallen asleep quickly after dinner had finished.

"I was very tired that night," he said defensively. "I'd had an on call shift the night before, and I got very little sleep."

"Sure, sure. You're always on call." Lizzie smiled, glad for a distraction from this guilty feeling that had settled in her stomach from not expressing gratitude to him sooner. "You got drunk off two glasses of wine and fell asleep."

"I did no such thing." He pressed the down button and they both waited for the elevator to arrive. The scowl he wore was so deep that Lizzie wondered why he didn't just take the stairs if he was having such a horrible time talking to her.

"I thought Charlie was supposed to be the light weight."

The elevator doors opened and they both stepped inside. "He is."

"Alright, Will." Lizzie pressed the ground floor button. "Just no more wine for you."

"I can hold my wine just fine."

"Maybe you can hold grape juice better."

"You are very frustrating," he said exasperatedly.

"You just don't have a sense of humor," Lizzie countered.

"I thought we were supposed to be declining invitations anyway," he said. "You showed up at Charlie's yesterday a few days after our agreement. I'm confused."

Lizzie shrugged. "I guess we're both guilty of breaking the agreement then. I just wanted a break from packing. I didn't think you'd be there. Why were you there? You got there after me, didn't you?"

He was silent for a moment then asked, "Are you done packing then?"

It didn't escape her that he'd avoided her question, but she let it go, deciding it didn't really matter. "No. I just told you, I took a break."

He frowned. "You only have a day or two left, don't you? Doesn't your lease end at the end of this month?"

"Yeah. I'll get it done." She wondered how he knew that and made a mental note to talk to Jane about talking behind her back.

"How far along are you?"

"I don't know. A little more than the last time you saw my apartment?"

His frown deepened. "It was a mess in there!"

"Yeah, but that's better than it being super clean, isn't it? If it was clean, it means I haven't started. If it's messy, it at least means I'm halfway there."

"Halfway there?" he asked incredulously.

"Sure. Taking all the stuff out of its place is one half. Putting the stuff into boxes is the other half." She smiled.

He stared at her, with a look she'd often seen on Jane when she was trying to figure out a particularly difficult crossword puzzle. He said nothing. The elevator doors opened, and Lizzie stepped out.

"Liz?" a voice called from her left.

Lizzie turned to meet the blue eyes of George Wickham. "George!"

She watched his smile turn to a glare when he saw Will. Turning toward Will, she saw that he mirrored George's glare. She frowned. Will was the first to break eye contact. He looked at Lizzie for a moment, looking like he wanted to say something to her, but didn't. Instead he walked away in the opposite direction.

"I didn't know he worked here," George said quietly, watching Will disappear down the corridor.

"Oh, do you know Will?" Lizzie asked, pretending she hadn't seen them glare daggers at each other just seconds before.

"Yes, I've actually known him for almost a decade now," he replied.

"Really?" Lizzie asked, surprised.

George nodded. "How do you know him?"

"I met him at a party," she answered, not really seeing a reason to go in depth.

"What do you think of him?"

Lizzie shrugged noncommittally.

George smiled. "I really have no right to give my opinion on him. I'm a little bias because of…well, everything."

Try as she might, Lizzie could not contain her curiosity. "How do you know him?"

"I was an exchange student in the UK and the Darcys were my host family. It was mostly his dad and sister since Will was already in college. I believe his father signed up for the program because he missed having a son in the estate. Anyway, I did my junior year of high school there. When I wasn't busy with my studies or hanging out with my friends, I would spend time with Mr. Darcy. He was a very kind man who loved to joke around and laugh, nothing like Will." George laughed softly.

"Do you still keep in touch with his family?"

"No." He looked at his feet for a moment before answering. "Will's father died shortly after I began at university."

"Oh."

"Yeah. Will's father was actually paying for my education."

"Really? Where did you go to school?"

"Cambridge, actually. I kept in touch with Will's father and sister after I came back to the States. When I mentioned loving England so much and my desire to study at Cambridge, Will's father insisted on funding my education, should I get in there. I worked hard and got in. Mr. Darcy was thrilled. I wasn't so comfortable with him paying for my education, so I applied for as much financial aid as possible. In the end, Mr. Darcy paid for about half, which was still too much. I promised myself I would pay him back one day for his generosity."

"So what happened?" Lizzie asked. Clearly Cambridge hadn't worked out if he was working here, right?

"Well, Will's father died after my first semester there. I was devastated. He was like a father to me. My parents died shortly after my high school graduation, you see." He paused, running a hand through his disheveled blonde hair. "After the funeral and everything was taken care of, the lawyers looked at Mr. Darcy's will. We found out that he'd specified that my education continue to be funded for. He also set aside a hefty amount for me to have after my education was finished."

"That was nice of him."

George nodded. "It didn't work out though. Will was angry and distraught. He and I never really got along, and I guess for him to find out that his father loved me like a son…well, it pissed him off. He talked to the lawyers and found a loophole in the will. I didn't get any money. I finished my first year at Cambridge, but it was also my last year there. I couldn't pay for it anymore, even with the help of financial aid."

"No!"

"Yes, I'm afraid so." He took a deep breath, then expelled it. "Will was jealous of the relationship I had with his father and did everything he could to ruin my life."

"That's terrible!"

"Yeah. I worked at as a waiter for a while, saving money to go back home. See, I didn't even have enough money for that! Since then, I've just been working odd jobs, trying to make ends meet."

Lizzie felt terrible for George. "I can't believe Will did that to you! I feel so bad."

"Oh, don't pity me, Liz. I'm doing alright." He gave her a smile. Lizzie found she loved the way his eyes crinkled and his dimples showed when he did.

She returned the smile. "Hey, what are you doing next Saturday?"

George's smile broadened. "Are you asking me out, Liz?"

She laughed. "My sister's having a party at her place. You should come."

His face darkened a bit. "Will's not going to be there, is he?"

Lizzie shrugged. "He might be. You're going to let that stop you from coming?"

"It's going to take more than Will Darcy to keep me from your party," he replied, obviously hearing the challenge in her voice.

Lizzie nodded. "Good." After rummaging around in her bag for some paper and a pen, she wrote down the address, time, and her number. Then she pressed the piece of paper firmly into George's hand, holding it there for a little longer than necessary.

"See you there!" She gave him her best smile before walking towards the exit.

Review, please! :]