The Art of Double Dating, Part I

So - hope everyone had a lovely Christmas! And Happy New Year to everyone, of course! Many thanks to your reviews for Chapter 6 as well!

And a very special thank you to Illusiional Ice who was so kind as to beta during the holidays. You're awesome!

On with the show...

Soundtrack: Beautiful Girls – Sean Kingston

"Oh I'm with my girl
Who I thought was my world
It came out to be
That she wasn't the girl for me (girl for me)"

Something was whining strangely. Lizzie frowned. She didn't want to get up. Her body felt like lead and her bones felt like they had disintegrated during the course of the night. Stupid dancing. Stupid singing. Stupid Darcy.

The noise continued to whine even louder and crawled up an octave. Lizzie moaned and rolled over, pressing her face straight onto the pillow. Well, that wasn't a good move. She couldn't see even if she wanted to this way. Lizzie's head reeled as the sound from the unknown continued to shriek.

"Hello?"

That's what it was. Mustering all her energy, Lizzie managed to lift her head off her pillow and glare straight at Jane. Why someone was calling so early on a Sunday morning was beyond her. Minus the fact that it was eleven-thirty, that is.

"Oh, hey! No, no, it's all right. It's not too early."

Freaking hell, it was too early. Lizzie was still in between a state of alertness and la-la land. But Jane's voice seemed so very happy and awake. How could Jane sound like that right after she woke up? If Lizzie had picked up the mobile, she would have muttered and moaned at the person even before she knew who it was. She wouldn't have even cared if it was someone important.

"Yeah, I got back safely, thanks. How about you? Okay, that's good. Busy? No, I'm not. No, Lizzie's not busy either. Oh, is that right? Really? That would be great! I'll ask Lizzie…wait a second."

What was this about? Lizzie flipped over again and pulled the doona over her head. Whatever Jane wanted to ask her could wait for a while unless Jane wanted to deal with a grumpy and sulky Lizzie. It was just far too soon for Lizzie to be asked anything.

Air gushed over Lizzie as the doona was instantly thrown off. Lizzie moaned, grappling blindly for the doona. The light was far too strong! It was too cold! Gosh, it was winter for goodness sake!

"Cold!" yelped Lizzie, curling up into a ball on the bed.

"Lizzie, one word is all I need. Charlie's just asked me to watch 'South Pacific' with him. He wants you to come too. Yes or no?" asked Jane, climbing onto Lizzie's bed with her mobile in hand.

"How loaded is this guy?" rasped Lizzie, voice still not functioning properly, "Anyway, I don't think you'll want me butting in the date."

"Well, this time's different. You wouldn't be butting in, Lizzie. Charlie asked you to come with us. He's just got some extra tickets and it would be a waste if he didn't use them. So please?"

"Sure he's 'just got some extra tickets.'." muttered Lizzie cynically, rolling over again. She didn't want to see Jane's pleading expression. It had the effect of making Lizzie do absolutely anything.

"Lizzie, why don't you just come with us? Deliberately or not, he still wants you to come." said Jane, "And I really want you to come too."

Lizzie glanced at Jane's reflection from the built-in's mirror. Jane looked so earnest and beseeching that Lizzie's objections dissolved. Lizzie sighed and covered her face with her pillow. Why had she looked at Jane? She knew she would give in if she did. Seriously, if Jane told someone to jump of a cliff, they probably would. Not that she would do such a thing, though.

"Fine. Yes, I'll go." mumbled Lizzie.

"Thanks, Lizzie! Here's your doona back."

Lizzie huffed in reply, mumbling something about doe-eyed sisters and their evil intentions. If Jane heard, she didn't respond.

"Yeah, she's coming. Oh right, you were listening. So, see you soon! Really? That's actually a great idea! See you in the afternoon, alright?"

Lizzie rubbed her eyes, wincing as she heard Jane's mobile snap shut. That sound was painful. And what was that slightly furry taste to her tongue? Had she been drinking? She had. Lizzie remembered the Zombie cocktail with revulsion. Well, that explained the groggy movement of her limbs and the slight pounding of her head.

Damn it. She hated hangovers.

With a sigh, Lizzie forced herself to sit up. At least the world wasn't spinning. But everything seemed extra bright and extra loud. Lizzie's stomach also gave a lurch in a protest that Lizzie barely managed to contain. She didn't wasn't in the mood of cleaning up the result.

This was one of the milder hangovers, too.

The bed wobbled as Jane stood up. Lizzie moaned as another wave of nausea passed over her. Lizzie was never, ever going to drink a Zombie cocktail again. Why had she drunk it anyway? Actually, forget that line of thought.

"Lizzie, are you alright?" asked Jane, concerned.

Lizzie squeezed her eyes shut, forcing her roiling stomach to calm before she dared to answer. She didn't think Jane would appreciate being puked on otherwise.

"Hangover. Don't worry. A Panadol or two will do the trick." said Lizzie, attempting a smile. She failed miserably.

Jane didn't look at all convinced. Before Jane forced Lizzie to stay in bed, Lizzie pushed herself awkwardly off the bed and shuffled slowly to the kitchen. Funny - she had wanted sleep for a little longer but now she forced herself to get up — a rare event indeed. But Lizzie desperately needed a Panadol and coffee, or else she was going to implode.

Lizzie ignored Jane's repeated offers to help and slowly but surely managed to make coffee. She even salvaged a Panadol from her messy medicine cabinet and managed to pop a tablet out without splitting the whole pack in two or something of the sort.

"Coffee?" offered Lizzie. The mug held out by Lizzie looked in danger of tipping over.

Jane's look of concern was now an amused expression. Now there was even a hint of a repressed smile. What was so funny? There was nothing funny about a hangover. But then again, maybe watching a person hobble around like they were seventy was entertaining. Not that Lizzie was laughing.

"I take it you'll be functional this by this afternoon?" asked Jane.

Lizzie nodded slowly, drinking her coffee. The unpleasant pounding of her head had lessened and her stomach had finally stopped churning. Her limbs still felt heavy, but it was a good improvement from a few minutes ago. When the Panadol finally kicked in, Lizzie would be totally fine.

"I suppose." replied Lizzie indifferently, "So don't worry."

"That's encouraging." said Jane, still smiling worriedly.

A loud, raucous ringing suddenly began.

Lizzie gritted her teeth, reaching for the phone as quickly as possible before her headache returned again. Who was ringing now? Why was the world so bent on making Lizzie's already crappy Sunday worse?

"Hello?" muttered Lizzie.

"Lizzie! You actually picked up! Oh my god. This happens what, one time out of a hundred?"

She should have known it would be Lydia. Lizzie had wondered why she had heard so little from them for the past week. Now it seemed she was going to pay for her wondering.

"Lydia, this is probably not the best…"

"What do you mean, Lizzie? There's no time like now! Last night we went to Sandra-Lee's party. Know what? Suzie Von Keppel is such a bitch! Do you know what she called Kitty? A dowdy wannabe! Can you believe that, Lizzie? Lizzie! Are you listening?"

Lizzie winced as Lydia's voice increased by twenty decibels. She wasn't in the right state to be dealing with Lydia's phone call. If it ended well, it would be Lizzie yelling at Lydia to shut up and stop pestering her. Lizzie held the phone an arm's length away from her, ignoring the "Lizzie! Lizzie!" shouts and looked imploringly at Jane.

"Who?" mouthed Jane.

Lizzie thrust the phone to Jane. It was only a split second before realization dawned, followed by a soft "Oh. Right." Jane took up the phone slowly, grimacing slightly as the repeated yells of "Lizzie!" only grew louder. Seriously, did Lydia's throat ever hurt from screaming? It didn't seem like it.

"Hello Lydia. Yes, it's Jane."

Lizzie lifted a brow, hearing an ultrasonic shriek of "Jane! You never told me you were going over to Lizzie's! Why didn't you come to Lesley College instead? My friends would have loved to meet you!"

Lydia had never asked Lizzie to go visit her and Kitty at Lesley College. But then again, she didn't really want to anyway. Lizzie shuddered to even think about being introduced to Lydia's friends. What if they were even worse than Lydia?

They would be at a party three times or more each week and continuously complain about not being invited to some other party. They would date three guys simultaneously and complain about guys that refused to go out with them. Well, that pretty much described Lydia. How much worse could it get? It was probably best not to consider it.

"Oh, okay. So you will be going home for Thanksgiving? That's good to hear. See you soon, then." said Jane, looking overwhelmed.

"WAIT! Carmel, she is a supermodel! Seriously! I'll prove it to you."

Lydia's voice was loud enough to fill the whole apartment. Lizzie shook her head. The girl was far beyond simply lively; she was out of control. There wasn't much Lizzie could do over the phone, though. It wasn't like Lizzie wanted to try anyway.

"Jane! Tell Carmel you're a supermodel!"

Jane looked at Lizzie helplessly before staring at the phone like it would sprout fangs and bite her. Maybe it was time to save Jane from the ultrasonic screeching that emanated from the phone. Lizzie braced herself for another sharp stab at her eardrum and gingerly took the phone from Jane.

"Lydia, if you don't shut up I'm taking all the cranberry sauce this year!" yelled Lizzie into the phone.

There was a deathly silence. Lizzie smiled triumphantly. The cranberry sauce ransom trick always worked. Or not.

"I can just get Mom to make some more. JANE! TELL CARMEL YOU'RE A SUPERMODEL!"

Lizzie sighed, motioning for Jane to take the phone. Jane's eyes grew into glowing orbs that shone with panic. Lizzie lifted a brow, looking at Jane in exasperation. Why was it that Jane could handle walking down a two-metre wide catwalk with only the skimpiest lingerie in front of a crowd of a hundred, but not be able to handle Lydia? Then again, Lizzie could persuade and spin-doctor in a blink of the eye, and still be unable to get Lydia to shut up.

"Lydia, I'm pretty sure you'll find some way to convince this…Carmel that Jane is a supermodel. Now I'm going to hang up the phone, and you're not going to call me for the rest of this week. Did you get that? Good. Now, bye." said Lizzie firmly.

And despite the shouts of "Jane! JANE!" and other exclamations, Lizzie managed to place down the phone without a grimace. At least the quake was over. But the aftershocks seemed to have started – Jane's expression was fixed in a look of horror. Lizzie smiled grimly. This was what Jane had been saved from for the past year. It was amazing – and horrifying – what college could do to people, girls in particular. Not that Lydia and Kitty had ever been far from party girls anyway.

"Was that our sister?" whispered Jane.

"Fawn-eyed, shoulder length brown hair of streaked blonde – last time I saw her, that is – and a total party animal? Yep, that's her. Lydia Bennet." replied Lizzie dryly, "Aren't we just so proud of our little sis?"

Jane looked like she was lost for words.

"I've missed a lot this year, haven't I?" asked Jane sheepishly.

Lizzie merely smiled, and took a large swig from her coffee. And immediately winced. Perhaps it wasn't so smart to take a large gulp of hot coffee.

"Don't think that way." mumbled Lizzie after fanning her mouth, "You've been busy and that's all."

Busy was an understatement. Jane had made her big break into the modelling that year. She'd suddenly become the official face of Christian Dior in a week, with various other prestigious contracts to boot. Her sudden rise to modelling fame also meant an exponential rise in the number of shoots, appearances and shows. Jane's year had been so very hectic that she wondered how she had survived. But she had, with a new, flawless reputation and a ton of labelled clothes.

"I still feel like I've missed out on so much, Lizzie. I know I haven't been there enough for all of you. I don't even know how many emotional breakdowns Mom has had this year!"

Lizzie laughed at Jane's confused face. It had been a hard year with no Jane. She'd only heard from her once or twice per month. She hadn't felt neglected – no, Jane never made her feel that way – but she had felt slightly disconnected from Jane's fast moving life. So, while Jane was in Manhattan, she was determined to spend as much time as possible with her.

"There's been too many for me to count, actually. Know what? You're probably lucky you weren't there for them. But since there wasn't anyone she could complain to, Mom's breakdowns were incredibly mild this year." laughed Lizzie.

"Any chance of her having no breakdowns at all?" asked Jane, smiling.

"Now, now Jane. Is it right to take Mom away from her breakdowns?" asked Lizzie, shaking her head.

"Oh no, I wouldn't deny her of that!" laughed Jane.

And indeed they wouldn't. Cherry Bennet's excitable nature was much reason for exasperation and humiliation. But after living more than twenty years with it, the Bennet sisters not only tolerated it, but relied on it for some indication that everything was well and dandy. After all, a month – or even a week – without a meltdown signalled something strange, though maybe not necessarily something wrong.

Lizzie grinned as she felt the feelings of morning grumpiness. Coffee always helped to calm an upset stomach.

"Hey Lizzie, is this yogurt still edible?" asked Jane, pulling out the tub of yogurt in question from the fridge.

Lizzie shrugged. It looked fine to her. And it wasn't like something stupendously wrong was going to happen if her sister just ate the yogurt.

"You can't go wrong with the best before date!" replied Lizzie, grinning.

"Right." muttered Jane, looking for the date.

Lizzie watched as Jane fumbled with the yogurt tub, scrutinized the date printed on the plastic, and then took a few tentative scoops from the yogurt. She would have laughed, except for the plain look of "laugh and I'll kill you" printed clearly on Jane's face. Well, that was a new facet of Jane's personality. She'd never had a problem with Lizzie laughing at her eating before. It must have come from the stress of being a model.

"So when and where is the Broadway?" asked Lizzie, "Or is that going to be a torturous surprise?"

"Now Lizzie, how and why is this torturous in any shape or form?" laughed Jane.

"Me going to a fancy-pansy Broadway musical and not knowing when and where it is." stated Lizzie.

"But wouldn't it be cool if you did?" said Jane, smiling weakly.

Lizzie paused, eyeing Jane mischievously.

"You know what would be cool? Me turning up in my pyjamas and bed hair to a musical that probably has some of the most well-connected people in Manhattan attending. What do you think?" asked Lizzie, amused when Jane's expression clicked to horrified. Funny that Jane knew Lizzie would have no qualms actually carrying out her threat.

"Vivian Beaumont Theatre. Three o'clock this afternoon."

Lizzie tilted her head to read her Disney Princesses clock. 12:15. Time was ticking down already.

"What can I do to get you to go?"

A very exasperated looking Charles Bingley was pleading with a stony-faced Fitzwilliam Darcy. But Darcy was having none of it. He had never been a pushover – it would never do to be a softie in the corporate world – but he was even more bull-headed than usual.

"Charles, I've told you already. I'm not going. And you're not going to convince me to in the next three hours. So no, I am not going. Capiche?" said Darcy, glaring darkly at his friend.

Charles was silent. Darcy let himself breathe a silent sigh. He wasn't in the mood and that was that. But he didn't want to seem like a total mule to Charles, despite knowing that that was just what he seemed like just then. If Charles knew what was best for him, he would just let Darcy mope and let him be.

"Darcy, I'm begging one favour of you – one favour, that's all I ask! I will never, ever beg such a favour off you again. I promise. Come with me and Jane to 'South Pacific' and I will be indebted to you. Truly." said Charlie.

"Seriously Charles, why do you need me to go with you and Jane to a musical? You can handle dates just fine, last time I checked. Why do you need me there?" asked Darcy, flicking over the page of the Business and Financial news section in the New York Times.

Charlie paused, stopped his pacing around Darcy and sat down on an armchair.

"You're right. I don't really need you there. But you see, Jane is bringing her sister Lizzie…"

Charlie trailed off, darting a glance at Darcy's immediate reaction to 'Lizzie.' However, he was sorely disappointed; Darcy showed no reaction whatsoever to the name, though perhaps there was a little tightening of the jaw line. Then, an indescribable cloud of taciturnity seemed to overcome Darcy, making it impossible for Charlie to say anything further or even make a sound.

Darcy, in reality, was close to reliving last night's disastrous memories. The words in the newspaper was beginning to blur as his concentration slipped from the list of share prices to 'history repeating' mode. With another silent sigh, Darcy grabbed the remote control and switched on the television. Flicking through TV channels provided some diversion from his thoughts. Despite it being extremely uncharacteristic act that attracted strange stares from Charlie, that is.

"Darcy, Lizzie will be all alone. Why don't you go for her sake?" asked Charlie.

Darcy continued his channel surfing and didn't respond to Charlie's question. But he did jack up the TV's volume by ten levels.

Charlie didn't know whether to be annoyed or sympathetic. From what he'd learnt from Jane, Darcy and Lizzie had dated, broken up due to questionable actions on Darcy's behalf, and ended messily because of some sort of complication on Lizzie's side. It had been complicated and rather unpleasant, and Jane had pretty much refused to go into details. Not that Charlie wanted them anyway; matters of the private sort were never quite managed by Charlie. It left him with too many uncomfortable glances and nudges to deal with, as he'd found out in his sophomore year. He never fully recovered.

"Do you ever think of anyone – or anything – besides yourself?" asked Charlie loudly over the rumble of the TV.

The insult bounced off Darcy without inflicting any wound. Finally, Charlie snatched the remote from Darcy and turned off the TV. An instant silence fell over the penthouse – the calm before the storm.

"Charles, give me the remote." said Darcy, hand out.

"So you can degenerate your eyes and ears faster? No." replied Charlie.

"Have it your way."

Darcy flipped open the newspaper once more, forcing himself to concentrate on the numbers and figures on the page. But that was rather hard with Charlie breathing down his neck. Darcy groaned after two minutes of silence and turned around to face a disgruntled Charlie.

"So Miss Bennet's coming." stated Darcy unnecessarily.

"Yes," said Charlie slowly, "Lizzie's coming with Jane. And it would be good if she had a companion aside from Jane and me."

"She'd be the third wheel otherwise, you mean." replied Darcy, a hint of a smile finally appearing on his morose face.

"I wouldn't say that," said Charlie, blushing slightly, "But…will you go so a poor, potentially lonely girl would not be poor and potentially lonely?"

Darcy lifted a brow at the way Charlie put it. Lizzie would never let herself succumb to "loneliness" of any degree. She always found a way to amuse herself. But Charlie was pouting like a little girl, and half of Darcy's disagreements with the plan had simply fallen of a (hypothetical) cliff during his little tantrum with the TV. Still, that didn't mean that Darcy was going to give in so easily.

"You make her sound like a damsel in distress." muttered Darcy.

"Who said she isn't?" asked Charlie, grinning, "Why don't you save her?"

Darcy rolled his eyes. Lizzie Bennet was as far from being a damsel in distress as New York was from Helsinki. But while that comparison lasted…

"There's nothing to save, Charles." replied Darcy dryly.

"On the contrary, I believe there is everything to save. Don't you think this is a good opportunity to apologize for yesterday's disgrace?"

"I think it's more like a good recipe for disaster." said Darcy.

Charlie frowned. Perhaps Darcy was right. But he had to try one last tactic.

"Maybe I'll ask Larry to come instead. She seemed pretty good friends with him." wondered Charlie, sitting in the armchair again.

Those two sentences sealed Darcy's decision. He knew he was probably going to regret it – a lot – later.

"I'm feeling chivalrous then. But let this be on your head if she doesn't want to be saved!" said Darcy hastily, walking away. It was time he tended to the rebellious stubble on his chin.

His very reflection, however, seemed to accuse him of a gross misjudgement. Lizzie wouldn't want him as her companion. So why had he just agreed to go? But he just couldn't bring himself to walk back to the lounge room and tell Charlie that he wasn't going. Why couldn't he?

With a sigh, Darcy picked up the razor and shaving cream, distracting himself from his thoughts by trying to make sure that he didn't cut himself. And a half hour later, he was proud to have no cut to show, but mortified to discover his thoughts had drifted into dangerous territory once more.

Last night's accusations hit Darcy over the head again like a metal racket. But they were wrong. They had to be. But something still stopped Darcy from looking at his reflection right in the eye.

Darcy angrily pushed the thoughts away. What was done was done. There was nothing he could do about it now. People changed. The accusations could not apply anymore. It was outdated, irrelevant and ultimately irrational. The situation was completely different from the one nine years ago.

Wasn't it?

Darcy glared at the wash basin, ruffling his hair until it stood up defiantly. Even after nine years, Lizzie Bennet still had the ability to baffle him completely.

"Hey Darcy, are you done yet?" called Charlie.

Finally, Darcy glared straight at his reflection, and then walked back to the lounge room – to find his sofas covered by an overflow of suits, shirts and pants. Darcy's mouth flew open and he glowered at Charlie pointedly. Charlie merely grinned.

"You don't mind, hey? So – what should I wear to the Broadway?" asked Charlie.

"Are you a man?" muttered Darcy, clearing a space for himself on a sofa.

"I'll ignore that comment, because I know you don't intend to hurt my feelings. Come on, red shirt or green shirt?"

Darcy dug his head into a cushion in exasperation.

"The one that's least hideous," barked Darcy into the cushion.

There was a pause, a swishing of clothes, and then silence. Darcy lifted his head tentatively, wondering what Charlie had decided to do. If he looked absolutely hideous – well, there was always Mrs Reynolds to help. That woman worked wonders, without the chattiness that seemed to come hand in hand with the female sex when it came to clothes and fashion.

"You know Darce, if I actually let you choose, you'd let me out of this door looking like a harlequin." laughed Charlie as he watched a disgruntled Darcy lift his head from the cushion.

"I never pretended to be a fashion guru, Charles." said Darcy coolly.

Charlie merely laughed.

"Yeah, because then people would question which way you swing. And oh no, the great Fitzwilliam Darcy can't have his masculinity questioned, eh?"

Darcy glared darkly at Charlie and opened his mouth to retort. Even if Charles Bingley was a tub of goodwill, it didn't make his light teasing any easier to bear.

"Darce, lighten up. You've been looking like someone spat into your breakfast cereal for a day and a half now. Sure, Lizzie heard you insult her and didn't look too happy – and you ended up singing with her…"

"And yet you force me to go to the Broadway as her companion." said Darcy sharply.

"No one can force you to do anything, as you very well know." pointed out Charlie, "I know you want to go."

"I wouldn't push it if I were you, Bingley." snapped Darcy.

At the sound of his surname, Charlie immediately closed his mouth and stared at Darcy. It was only in times of extreme annoyance or importance that Darcy used Charlie's last name to address him. Charlie had hit a very tender nerve. But he'd been knocking on the very same nerve for the better half of the past hour, and yet Darcy hadn't used Charlie's surname until right then. Perhaps Darcy was learning to control himself – though it was a little late.

Darcy frowned, pinching the bridge of his nose in annoyance. He didn't want to grouch and wallow in self-pity, but he was doing it. And that certainly wasn't going to win back any favour in an hour's time. So Darcy concentrated on shunting his thoughts into a more stable and coherent order behind the screen of the very same New York Times page, which occupied him until half an hour to three.

And then he suddenly found himself merely two hundred metres away from the theatre, still unprepared for a meeting which he had convinced himself to be his doom. It was undoubtedly going to one long, painful process.

Then he caught sight of her.

Lizzie stood waiting uncomfortably next to Jane, waiting for Charles Bingley to show up so that they could go in and find their seats. She'd agreed grudgingly to go and now she was seriously reconsidering it. Sure, this was probably an once-in-a-lifetime experience (after all, who could go and see 'South Pacific' whenever they wanted?) but a part of Lizzie just wanted to run back home and read a magazine – or something just as daft and pointless. But at least her hangover had cleared up.

Or maybe not.

"Jane, tell me I'm hallucinating." whispered Lizzie.

"Why?" asked Jane, confused.

Lizzie nudged Jane in the direction of the two approaching figures and watched in half horror and half amusement as Jane stiffened and stared back at Lizzie.

"I wasn't part of this." whispered Jane, seeing the murderous glint in Lizzie's hazel eyes.

"So I'm not hallucinating?"

"No, I don't think so."

"Damn." muttered Lizzie.

"Actually, Charlie did say he was bringing a companion," said Jane softly, "but I never thought…"

"And you never thought to tell me Charlie was bringing someone?" cut in Lizzie, slapping her forehead.

Jane shrugged apologetically, then plastered on a smile as the two men walked up the stairs. Lizzie rolled her eyes and followed Jane's lead as best she could. Though perhaps the twitching of the left side of her mouth gave her away…

Darcy had better be wearing shin pads.

I know, I know, a bit of a cliffy - but it was going to be too long if I didn't cut it off here. But Part II is in the works now, so it should be done soon (fingers crossed). What did you think of this chapter, though? All thoughts appreciated!

Once again, Happy New Year everyone!