December Street

5. The boyfriend and the mysterious man left

Class was over in Modern Lit and Morgan Bennet was practically asleep. Students started to exit the classroom but Morgan slowly raised her head and gathered her books. The lecture was long over when Professor McGee approached her desk. "Class over, Bennet."

"I know." McGee took a sip of water and Morgan gathered her books and started to walk away.

"Say, Bennet," her teacher said. "Who's the pretty blonde that came in here on the first day?"

Morgan gritted her teeth. Rachel was always 'that pretty blonde girl' Why couldn't she be the pretty brunette for once? "My twin sister, Professor. She has another class."

"Ah. Not much interested in modern lit?"

Morgan shook her head. "She wants to be an archeologist. Although I think she should be a therapist."

"Oh." Before Professor McGee could try to get her to speak again, Morgan ran out of the room and building, sitting down on a bench to think for a minute before she had to dash off to her next class.

She hadn't seen Hayden Wickham since late September; now, Morgan pulled her coat closer to herself to protect against the rough November winds. God forbid she should ever see Hayden again. Charlie had apologized repeatedly for his sister's actions; Morgan didn't blame him. She just happened to be a bit more jealous of the beautiful redhead who had captivated both Hayden and Paul Darcy.

There had been a conspicuous absence of Paul from history. Both Rachel and Charlie had tried to lie that his schedule but been changed but failed miserably. Morgan knew he was avoiding her.

Morgan was almost happy to be alone. Until, of course, she wasn't alone anymore. Curling, beautiful blonde hair was next to her. Instinct spoke. "Hey, Rachel."

"M, let's go – we're going to be late."

Reluctantly, Morgan followed Rachel across campus and along the familiar paths that led them across the quad, past the huge grove of trees and the gazebo in the center, and towards the history building off December Street.

"You okay?" Rachel said as they entered the now-heated building and climbed the stairs, and Morgan gritted her teeth yet again. Rachel had been acting like a mother hen lately and it ticked Morgan off. She was not two, and although she had been cheated on, her mental capacity was perfectly normal. And she was happy without Hayden. So why the hell did Rachel patronize her?

"I'm fine," Morgan snapped, pushing through the door at the top of the stairs and letting it slam behind her. Moments later, the door pushed open and Rachel, concerned, trotted to her side.

"Why do you keep snapping at me?"

Morgan tried her hardest not to scream. It didn't work very well. "Because I'm fine!"

She stormed down the hall and into Professor Custer's class, still seething. Rachel followed her in.

"Listen," her china doll sister said. The blue cat-like eyes narrowed. "I came to get you because I wanted to tell you that the Red Cross is holding a charity ball in mid-December, as their winter fundraiser. I'm helping to set up the day before. Charlie and I are going. And I've already bought you a ticket."

"Do I have to go?" asked Morgan, her lips cold and dreading Rachel's answer.

"After that spectacle you put on for me, absolutely."

Morgan winced.

Early November melted into Thanksgiving at the Bennet house; a noisy, raucous affair with Mr. and Mrs. Bennet, all five daughters, Mrs. Bennet's two brothers and their wives and children, and the elderly, snobbish, Bennet Grandmother Catherine. Morgan swept through the entire evening without blunder and keeping an almost genuine smile on her face. That night, with impossible Grandmother Catherine in the guest room and the aunts and uncles and cousins having gone home, Morgan lay in her bed and cried.

The chilly winds of late November blew into the snow flurries of December and Morgan began to gain bits of her old personality back. She laughed a bit more, cried a bit less, and tried not to think of Hayden Wickham. One cold morning found her in history class idling.

"Bennet."

Morgan's head bolted up; her pen dropped with a clatter. "What?"

The class tittered. "Do you think that Adams was right in taking the British side of the Boston Massacre case?"

"Which Adams?"

This time, the class laughed full outright. It was amusement to all who had been paying attention, but a matter of grades for Morgan when Professor Custer said, "See me after class, Bennet. Morgan Bennet."

Rachel and Charlie simultaneously winced.

The class seemed to drag on forever. Stupid history class, Morgan thought – why did it matter anyway? Morgan was going to be a lawyer. She didn't need to know history.

The lecture ended and the rest of the class scuffled out. Morgan slowly gathered her books and inched towards the door behind a laughing Rachel and Charlie. Professor Custer called out, "I'm not forgetful. Come here, Bennet."

Both Bennets turned around in their steps.

Professor Bennet held up a hand. "Morgan, please."

Rachel smiled hopefully; Morgan tried to do the same. But with her grade lingering low, things didn't look too perfect. Rachel and Charlie closed the door behind them. Professor Custer's eyes didn't twinkle happily like they normally did. Instead, his wiry eyebrows rose, beckoning.

Morgan slunk back to the desk. "Yes?"

"Why haven't you been paying attention in here?"

"I don't like history."

Instead of losing his temper, like most teachers would have done, he simply nodded. "Okay," he said. "Why? You obviously don't want to be here. Tell me why."

"I don't like history." Morgan thought for a second. "Don't like memorizing dates. Too boring for my taste. I wanted to take US law, but the offices told me I had to take this first –"

She broke off at the sight of Professor Custer's face. He was smiling. Smiling. Was something wrong with him, with her?

He smiled and spoke. "I requested to have you in my class," he said. "I know your father. Gregory Bennet. Good man. He's told me all about his daughters. I requested it to have you. Call it an experiment, if you will."

"What - ? How - ?" Morgan asked, flabbergasted.

His eyes twinkled. "I have my reasons for having you in here. You needn't know them yet. And as to how, well, Patty Olsen in the front office is an old friend."

She shook her head. Did she have to knock Dad on the head to get the message through? She wanted to be a lawyer. He'd always complained about lawyers who talked too much about history. The past is the past and they should let it stay that way, he said. Was this all a cruel joke?

"If you wish to transfer out, you may."

Morgan thought about it. She didn't trust Professor Custer, but she trusted Dad with her life. And if Dad had even breathed a word about Morgan taking history, of all classes, then maybe it could be okay. "I'll stay."

"I was hoping you'd say that," Professor Custer said, and his eyes twinkled. "But I have three rules. One, don't roll your eyes when I make jokes about General Custer."

Morgan nodded but rolled her eyes anyway.

"Two, pay attention this time around. And, three – are you going to the charity ball?"

Morgan winced; it was a running habit. "Unfortunately."

"Ah. Well, a pretty thing like you ought have her dance card full, but one dance with an old gray professor?"

"Absolutely," Morgan laughed forcefully, and flew from the room.

A/N: Ugh. Filler chapter. Oh, well. xD Could be worse, yes?

Thanks to Pixie, who is currently holed up sick. (Wishes to the awesome beta reader to feel better soon!) Disclaimer: I don't own Pride and Prejudice, as cool as that would be, and am not Britain's most well-renowned woman author (on par with JK Rowling and the Bronte sisters).

I know there aren't a whole lot of people reading this story, but for those that are, I'm going to update more often. I'd like to have this story finished off by the end of the summer. Everything's written, but Pixie is doing loads of stuff this summer and I have a lot of commitments, too. So there's that.

A question to all you Austen fans out there: I've read Pride and Prejudice more times than I can count, and I've read Northanger Abbey and Sense and Sensibility, but which one should I read next: Mansfield Park, Emma, or Persuasion? I started Persuasion and then had to return it to the library (I'm sort of known for overdue fees there) and liked it, but which is the best out of those three, in your opinions?

Please R&R – constructive criticism is appreciated more than you know!