Militia was slightly bearable on a Monday afternoon, because even in this particular bar Monday afternoon was a time of recovery and regret. It was the deadest of graveyard shifts, and Elizabeth had taken it because it was easier to snoop and sneak when the place was empty.

One or two regulars sat hunched over their drinks, but they weren't concerned with her. The first few shifts, both at night, had been an eye-opening experience of neon disrepute. She had been grabbed, fondled, cursed at – and she was one of the ones the customers weren't allowed to touch, not that her manager really cared. He had more to do than babysit her, or so he had informed her on her first day. She could look after herself though, and while he didn't babysit her – he hadn't minded the black eye she had given one particularly grabby patron.

In fact, he had given her some excellent pointers on fist trajectory for 'the next time she needed it'.

As she stood behind the empty bar, she knew she should probably have been wiping tables of washing mugs, but feeling that both tasks were a slightly lost cause she instead decided to write a letter to her older sister. She had been neglecting to write; and she knew Jane would worry if she didn't hear from her soon.

Jane was a mystery to her younger sister in many ways.

She was truly good, with never a bad word to say to or about anyone. She was beautiful, lovely, sweet, kind – and all the other synonymous adjectives that went with them.

And yet… she was a lawyer.

Going on her own experiences with lawyers, if you had asked Elizabeth Bennet when she was fifteen to describe a lawyer, it would have been everything Jane was not. Something more akin to a shark than to a bunny rabbit. When Jane had announced she would be studying law at Cambridge, having never told anyone in the family (including Elizabeth) that she had even applied, Lizzy had had to reassess her image of the sharks.

People in Meryton had been surprised. It was rare for a woman to attend law school, normally girls as sweet and beautiful as Jane went to secretarial college, and then married before they had the chance to use anything they might learn there.

Yet she had done it, and done it spectacularly well – as Lizzy had known she would. She had moved back to Meryton to work at the small lawyer's office there, bigger firms being more reluctant to take women on.

If Elizabeth could be half the woman Jane was, she would be very happy.

She was pondering this thought when three large and angry men opened the door and walked in, heading behind the bar and up the little flight of stairs to an ominous door that Elizabeth had been forbidden to enter on her first day. As her manager did not stop them, she instead tried desperately to listen to their conversation as it passed by her.

'He's angry. This is not a man you want to make angry. He's killed his own wife, he won't be afraid to have W knocked off too.'

When she was leaving that evening, she heard the voices still muttering in the backroom like angry wasps in their nest. Was the man Thorpe among them? Did they know the mysterious Will? Who was angry and who was 'W'?

These questions buzzed through her head, distracting her. The result was that she put her foot straight into a puddle that had been lying at the bottom of Militias dirty stoop. She was about to let out a curse when –

THUMP

A body pelted into her with the force of a bullet. A tangle of limbs, groans and general gasps for air kept them occupied for all of two seconds, before the handsome man detached himself from her. Yells of "Get him!" and "He's over there!" startled her, and the man it would seem – because he gripped her hand and took off again.

They flew between winding lanes and under flickering streetlights. It wasn't yet late enough that these streets were filled with the dark side of Soho, shadows who still lay sleeping. The moon had not yet risen high enough for them to be wandering the dark streets again – hungry for things that would leave even Elizabeth (with her generally strong constitution) nauseous.

They ran until they reached a wall which he climbed over, an act in which Elizabeth quickly followed suit. Now in some sort of small beer garden filled with bins of empty bottles, too cold to be used tonight, they hid silently as they heard the confused yells and stomping feed of the men pass them by.

The man, after waiting until they had definitely disappeared, slumped back with a roughish smile and a sigh of relief.

'Sorry about that darling.'

'Don't darling me, what did you drag me with you for?'

'Err… well – the men chasing me aren't the kind of men I would want to leave a young woman alone with.'

'I think they were far too concerned with you to be much bothered about me.'

'I mean, you did jump over this wall with me.'

He seemed sheepish now, roughish smile replaced by averted eyes.

'Yeah, well by that point we had been running together long enough for them to be bothered with me.'

He considered this, looking slightly regretful.

'I'm very sorry, I didn't really think about it. I suppose I didn't want to risk leaving a damsel behind.'

Lizzy snorted at the use of the word damsel in a very un-damsel like way, before sighing and slumping down next to him.

'Don't worry about it, I'll just think of it as good practice.'

'Good practice?'

'Yeah.'

'What? Do you find yourself running for your life often?'

'Yes.'

He laughed slightly, apparently trying to gauge how serious she was being. He seemed to decide that he didn't care and reached out his hand to her with a warm smile.

'I'm James by the way. James Fitzwilliam.'

'Elizabeth Bennett.'

They took each other's hand and shook them good-naturedly.

'So, Bennett, why do you find yourself running for your life so often?'

'Actually, I think it's my right to ask you that first. Who were those men?'

He paused a few moments before answering slowly.

'Well, it's sort of a favour for my cousin.'

'This seems like quite a big favour, considering the company it means you have to keep.'

He smiled slightly.

'The company doesn't seem that bad at the moment.'

She raised an eyebrow at him, which made him laugh once before a small frown appeared on his lovely face.

'Well, I'd do anything for Georgiana – she's more of a sister than a cousin.'

Hi guys! Hope you have enjoyed this chapter. I'm sorry it has taken me so long to upload again, but I have been in Canada (beautiful country) and unfortunately didn't have much access to the internet. Please let me know what you think! - Martha