Twenty Months

by Alicia Rogers

  "Oh, well, it's water over the bridge…"

  "Under the bridge," Lizzie corrected.

  "Over/under, who gives a damn, my Lizzie is going to be a Darcy!" Fran screeched excitedly. "And here I thought you'd never amount to much at all."

  Lizzie frowned. "Thanks, mama."

  "You should have seen April Forester's face when I showed her the magazine; what's that expression Lydia uses all the time?"

  "'Shat a brick'?" Lizzie offered with a snicker.

  "That's it! April practically shat a brick when she saw it! And, to think of all that bragging I had to endure when her mongrel was dating one of those little alcoholics from that show Laguna Beach. This was the perfect revenge!"

  "Glad I could help."

  "Your father's barbequing this weekend – we expect to see you and Fitzwilliam drop by…"

  "Oh, mom, I don't know about that," Lizzie said quickly. "Darcy's really busy and…"

  "Busy?!" her mother squealed indignantly. "How, could he possibly be too busy to spend time with his fiancé and her family?! That's ridiculous, Lizzie! I won't take no for an answer and let us know what his favorite food is, we'll make it special." Fran hung up before Lizzie had another chance to protest.

  As, if on cue Jane climbed to her feet and slipped a supportive arm around her little sister's dejected shoulders.

  "I'll never understand…" Lizzie began with a deep sigh, "why one house needs so many goddamn phone lines."

  Once upon a time, when things like roller disco and hot pants were all the rage, there lived a rather gangly, pale, Irish immigrant by the name of Sean Bennet, and a slender, well-tanned native Californian named Francesca Mateo.

  Chapter 13

  Into You like a Train, Part Two

  To say Frannie Bennet was a proud mama would be an enormous understatement. When she was a young girl, she dreamed of the day she'd grow up and marry a filthy rich man and live a fabulous and filthy rich life; but, once she finally reached adulthood and the ripe age to marry, she went and fucked it up by marrying for love, and instead of a fabulous, filthy rich life, Fran was living in unremarkable (though happy) middle class squalor. Then, by the grace of god she was given five beautiful daughters, thus allowing her five beautiful opportunities to become a mother-in-law to a fabulously wealthy son.

  Naturally, with Jane's beauty, Frannie figured her eldest would be the first to snare such a man unfortunately, Jane had been too focused on working side-by-side with the opposite sex to bed them. But, it was her Elizabeth, a complete dark horse in the competition, who came out the winner. Honestly, she'd never seen it coming; Lizzie was always so opinionated and smart ass-y and really, what man worth a damn wanted a woman who would bust his precious balls on a daily basis?

  Frannie didn't know how she did it, or cared how she did it, all that mattered was her baby girl was going to be Mrs. Fitzwilliam Darcy, and the hags in her spin class were going to explode when she told them the news.

  Fran hugged Lizzie tightly and suddenly pulled back startled, "You're coming to spin class with me next week, missy. Honestly, Lizzie, you can't gain weight at a time like this! Save the chubs until after he's put the ring on your finger," she told Lizzie loudly.

  Jane blanched. "Mama!"

  The sound of Caroline Bingley's snort made Lizzie pray for the earth to open up and swallow her whole. It didn't. And she was left standing there to deal with her complete and utter embarrassment. "It's so good to see you, too, mom," she said, teeth clenched.

  "And, Janie, you're looking as beautiful as ever," Fran exclaimed, quickly embracing her eldest, before turning her attention on the three strangers. "Aren't you going to introduce us?" she asked her daughters.

  With a small sigh, Lizzie began, "Mom, this is Charles Bingley, Charles's sister, Caroline, and of course, Fitzwilliam Darcy."

  "It's so nice to finally meet you all!" Facing Caroline, Fran added, "What a gorgeous outfit!"

  Caroline smirked. "Thanks, your's is something else. I don't think I've ever seen pants like that."

  "Adorable, aren't they?" Fran turned around to show off her 'juicy' backside. "I've got a few more pairs…there was an unbelievable sale on 's clothing line in Macy's, so I snatched them up."

  Caroline's smile grew wider. "I hate that I missed that."

  "It's really nice to meet you, Mrs. Bennet," Charlie, ever the white knight, cut in to hopefully save the Bennet girls a bit of face. "Thanks for inviting us."

  Fran gave Charlie a once over and smiled knowingly. "Well, aren't you just the cutest thing. Are you single? You know, Jane's single…"

  Charlie blushed. "I, uh…"

  "What do you do for a living, Charles?"

  "I'm a lawyer…"

  "Well, fancy that, so is Jane! Jane, did you know Charles was a lawyer?"

  Jane smiled sheepishly while Lizzie pinched the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger.

  "Yes, mom, I know," Jane stammered.

  "And you're always going on and on about there not being any good looking men in your profession and here's one staring you right in the face." Fran took the opportunity to pinch Charlie's cheek. "You are too cute, you know."

  Charlie was beet red. "Thank you."

  When Mrs. Bennet's eyes landed upon him, Darcy could feel a cold sweat break out on the back of his neck and drip all the way down his spine. If this woman even thought about pinching his cheeks, he'd remove every finger on her hand with his teeth.

  In an instant he was pulled into the tightest hug – it was like being squeezed to death by a boa constrictor (which at this point he would have gladly welcomed). A bit stunned from the unwelcome show of affection, all Darcy could do was blink as Mrs. Bennet rambled on.

  "I can't tell you how good it is to finally meet you, Fitzwilliam! That name's kind of a mouthful, isn't it?" Frannie laughed. "Bet you took a beating for that one on the playground."

  Darcy made a sound that was somewhere between a grunt and a groan.

  "Do you go by anything else, dear?" Frannie asked. "Fitzwilliam is so formal and we're going to be family."

  "Just call him, Fitzie mom," Lizzie eagerly supplied, her smile growing to mammoth proportions off of Darcy's glare.

  "Fitzie…" Frannie said the name as if she were chewing it over, "hmm, your father will love that. Speaking of, my husband and my other daughters ran off to the store to get more supplies." Leaning in towards Darcy, her voice dropped just above a whisper, "The Forester's have only been here for an hour and we're already running low on booze. I swear to god, if you as so much as lit a match next to April Forester she'd catch afire, she's so soaked in Bacardi."

  Darcy's eyes widened at that.

  Mrs. Bennet was a force to be reckoned with – a loud, obnoxious, gossiping force, who for some reason felt the need to tell Darcy the deep, dark secrets of every friend and neighbor in attendance. In addition to Mrs. Forester's love of liquor, Darcy now knew Mr. Forester was impotent, that the Bilsons from across the street's son was a panty sniffer, the Baxters from the next block over were totally growing pot in their downstairs closet, and Mr. Knightly from next door had a penchant for pretty, young men – and, his wife was none the wiser.

  He watched the Bennet twins sneak Smirnoff Ices when they thought no one was looking, and his hopes for Mary Bennet were dashed to bits when after spotting her Bring Me the Horizon T-Shirt, he asked if she were a death metal fan and all she wanted to do was talk about how the lead singer of the band on her top needed to go back to flat-ironing his hair.

  All was not completely lost however, there was still Mr. Bennet – or Sean, as he insisted on being called. Sean was a surprisingly quiet man, but the few words he did speak, were dripping with wit and a charming sense of whimsy. It was clear he was responsible for Lizzie's sharp tongue, and Darcy found he loved watching the two interact.

  When the amount of guests had sufficiently dwindled, Sean took the opportunity to slip inside the house and return with a very dangerous looking bottl
e of whiskey.

  Said bottle was ceremoniously plopped down in front of Darcy and Bingley, and Mr. Bennet took his seat across from the younger men, with a grin playing across his lips.

  "Oh, Pappa, you can't be serious," Lizzie exclaimed with a roll of her eyes. "I know senility is common at your age, but Jane and I aren't sixteen anymore…remember," she teased, making sure to drag her words out as if she were speaking to an Alzheimer's patient.

  Charles managed to look very much like a nervous puppy and he was quite lucky Mrs. Bennet was busy elsewhere at that moment, or his cheeks would have been in serious danger of a pinching. "What? I don't get it."

  Sean began to explain as he reached for the whiskey bottle and filled a couple of shot glasses, "I find alcohol is a great truth cerium and the more you drink the clearer your intentions become." He leered at Darcy, setting a shot glass in front of him. "I like to test this theory on my daughter's boyfriends."

  Lizzie chuckled. "Honestly, he just wants to see you completely pissed; sadistic, old bastard."

  "It's for your own good, you ungrateful slag," Sean told her with a brilliant smile. Facing Charles and Darcy once again, he said, "You see, it never fails." Giving Lizzie a quick once over, he turned back to Darcy and added, "Oh, she's nervous, she must really like you, then."

  "I hope so," Darcy replied flatly.

  "You know, sometimes it's not a good idea to tune out mom," Lizzie chastised her father, "as few and far in between as they may be."

  "Who says I tune your mum out? If I did, I wouldn't know that the Bilson's boy likes to paw through his sister's delicates."

  Darcy mumbled, "Unfortunately, I know that, too."

  Sean laughed heartily.

  "Darcy and I are engaged; I know mom told you…"

  "Engaged?" The elder Bennet's dark eyes widened with mock surprise and he inched the drink closer to Darcy's hands. "I don't remember consenting to any engagement."

  With a sideways glance at Charlie, Darcy threw back the strong liquor and attempted to ignore the burning in his throat. Even though he felt he had a good grasp on Mr. Bennet's sense of humor, he was inexplicably nervous, but forced the sentence, "Must be that senility thing working against you," out of his mouth.

  Those nerves were greatly eased, however, by the snort that escaped Lizzie's mouth and the genuine smile on her face.

  Chapter 14

  "You incredible, stupid, ass…!"

  It was well known in their circle of privileged friends that when it came to alcohol, Charles Bingley was the champion of lightweights. Though he indulged from time to time, he was admittedly, never a big drinker, thus it only took one Zima (or something equally as embarrassing and fruity) to make him a complete and total goner.

  Thus, Papa Bennet's strange bottle of foreign whiskey had left poor Mr. Bingley utterly pissed after just two shots.

  Caroline's fists were clenched as she verbally tore into her brother. "You were the driver, Charles! How the hell do you expect me to get home?!"

  "You're all more than welcome to stay the night if you've had too much to drink," Sean said offhandedly as he took a drink himself. "The living room couch is quite comfy."

  Ignoring Mr. Bennet, Caroline leaned in to Charlie and hissed in his ear, "I'm not staying here with these people and I'm definitely not sleeping on their couch!"

  Charlie picked his head up off of the table with a low, drunken groan and looked at the icy blonde through half-lidded eyes. "Goddamn, Caroline, for once I wish you would chill," he slurred. "Everybody else is chill. Darcy, are you chill?"

  "Very," Darcy told him dryly.

  "Lizzie, how 'bout you?"

  "Like an iceberg, Charlie," she let him know with a snicker.

  "And, I know, Sean is chill…."

  "Damn straight, lad."

  "See, Caroline. Everybody here knows how to chill, but you." He gestured widely to everyone at the picnic table. "All I wanna do is hang with my girl and my friends; why you gotta hate?"

  One of Caroline's perfectly plucked eyebrows quirked upward. "Chill? Hate? Okay, who the hell are you, 50 Cent?!" Exasperated, she made a point to huff and stamp her feet. "Screw you all, I'm calling a cab!"

  Glowing like a kid on Christmas, Lizzie exclaimed as she watched Caroline's backside hurry toward the house, "I know you're not going to remember this in the morning, Charlie, but, god bless you."

  Eyes sparkling, Sean asked, "Have you boys got one more left in you?"

  Sean's little 'theory' had been put to the test by firing a round of questions to Darcy and Charlie, after which they had to take a drink. They ranged from standard ridiculousness ("If you were on an island and could only take three things, what would they be?") to complete and total fuckery ("Would you tattoo Spongebob Squarepants on your ass?"). Somewhere around the time Charlie stopped being able to be completely coherent without throwing around pathetically out-of-date slang terms, Sean's questions became a shade more personal.

  With Caroline making such a fuss, Mrs. Bennet, Kit, and Lydia dropped kitchen cleanup duty at once to bolt out of the house and into the backyard to see what had caused it all. Jane reluctantly followed at their heels, and even Mary poked her head out of her bedroom for a nanosecond before deciding it wasn't worth her time.

  "Sean, what in god's name did you do to Caroline Bingley?!" Frannie screeched.

  Mr. Bennet gazed up at his wife with a wicked smile. "She didn't know how to chill."

  "Oh, fuck me! Dad's been grilling Fitzie and Charles and we totally missed it!" Lydia whined as she flopped down next to Lizzie on the bench.

  Frannie glared. "Lydia Marie, you watch your language! People are going to think you don't have an ounce of goddamn class if you keep talking that way!"

  "And, please, don't call me 'Fitzie'." Darcy grimaced and Lizzie giggled loudly.

  "How did you answer the Spongebob Question, Fitzie?" Kit asked him eagerly. "I think I'd do it…"

  Lydia snickered. "Yeah, cause, no one's ever gonna see you naked."

  Kit shot her a bird in response.

  "Are you alright, Charlie?" Jane had sat down beside him and slipped an arm around his slumped shoulders. There was a muffled moan from Charles, whose head was busy getting acquainted with the table once again. Heaving a great sigh, Jane frowned disappointingly at her father. "Daddy, was this really necessary? Honestly?"

  Staring directly at Darcy, Sean asked once more, "So how 'bout it, mate? One last question?"

  With the eyes of the entire Bennet clan upon him, Darcy took a deep breath and reached for the bottle of liquor, refilling his own shot glass. "Yeah, I can do one more," he said calmly.

  Fingers tented, Sean was the very picture of seriousness. "You're an incredibly wealthy, handsome young man. You can have any woman in the world – I've seen the pictures of you with Paris Hilton and Lindsay Lohan. So, what made my daughter so special? What could have possibly attracted a jet-setting trust fund boy to a middle class waitress?"

  The table was deathly silent, but despite the tense atmosphere, Darcy was strangely the picture of serenity as he downed his liquor. "I can honestly say I've never met anyone like Lizzie before. The women I used to date were completely meek – scarily so; it was like they couldn't have an opinion of their own or an interest of their own, it was always about me. Pleasing me. What movie do I want to see, what restaurant do I want to have dinner at, what position in bed am I in the mood for – let me tell you, it's the most fucking boring thing imaginable being with a woman who has no personality of her own so she's trying to adopt yours. I mean, I like me just fine most of the time, but I don't wanna date me, and I don't get that with Lizzie."

  Running a hand through his dark hair, Darcy chose to forego the shot glass altogether and took a drink straight from the bottle. "Lizzie is the most difficult, stubborn, opinionated, little brat I've ever met, and I wouldn't want her to be any other way. But, I have to be honest and say, that before I knew all of this, Mr. Bennet, I was attracted to your daughter's eyes;
she has the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen."

  The Bennet women gazed upon Darcy, slightly slack-jawed and a wee bit stupefied (even Charlie lifted his big, drunken head in amazement over what he'd just heard). It was a full minute before Lydia took it upon herself to break the silence like only she could,

  "Jesus-shit, if you don't marry him, Lizzie, I definitely will!"

  * * *

  "Oh, please don't! I'm begging you…seriously, put that thing away…!"

  When the decision to pack it in for the night was made, and Charlie had been sufficiently carried to the nearest bathroom to be taken care of by Jane, Lizzie and Darcy came to the conclusion that they should just stay the night at the Bennet house, since two out of the three licensed drivers had become best friends with Green Spot whiskey (and the other was busy playing nursemaid).

  It was the best news Fran could have possibly been given (outside of her legs being ripe and ready for next year's shorts season, that is). Fitzwilliam Darcy, her son-in-law to be, was spending the night in her house. Her daughter had really done it. It wasn't a dream. And somehow her elation over this fact, translated into her wanting to show Darcy every last bit of embarrassing film Lizzie had ever been captured on. At the moment, she was trying to work the tape of Lizzie's performance in Guys and Dolls from her senior year of high school, into the VCR, but Fran's determined offspring was having none of that:

  "C'mon, Lizzie! There's nothing to be shy about, you were very good," Fran said frowning as she tried to maneuver around Lizzie's hands.

  "He's not interested in seeing it mom," she whined, "and honestly, who could blame him."

  "I'd love to see it." It was the utter lack of sarcasm in his voice that gave Lizzie pause, thus opening up the opportunity for Fran to stuff the tape into the waiting mouth of the machine.

  "See," Fran began with a smile, "he wants to see it, Lizzie. You'll love it, Fitzie, she's extremely talented – I don't know why she's content with working at that Friday's when she could be off starring in movies."