Authors note: Thanks to Miss Pseudonymous for being my inspiration, my muse and the best friend ever.

(Not to mention the one that hacked into my account to edit and post this, and is thinking of sullying my good name by tinkering with the text.)

Thanks go also to Jane Austen for the characters, and Georgette Heyer, for giving me my lifelong love of regency romances.

Elizabeth bit down on her bottom lip hard.

"Why of course Charlotte dear. We understand Mr. Collins' position. Longbourne will be ready for you by the end of the week."

She sighed. How had it come to this? Only last week, her position as governess to Lady Braithwaite's children had been secured. And only two weeks before that, had Mr. Collins letter arrived, saying that he was kindly giving them one month to vacate Longbourne. And only two months before that, had her father died. And only one day before that had she refused marriage to one of the richest men in all North England.

It was ironic.

"Charlotte, I know you will understand if I leave you now. There is simply to much to do."

"Of course Lizzie," Charlotte shifted uncomfortably, Elizabeth stood.

"Goodbye Charlotte."

After her visitor had left, Elizabeth went in search of Jane. She found her in the small room they shared, packing her trunk, Lizzie walked into her sisters arms. She felt so alone.

"Oh Jane. Charlotte has just been here. They are waiting at the Lucas's. Waiting for us to leave." Lizzie took a deep breath, willing herself not to cry.

"How much longer do we have, Jane?"

"I believe Uncle said he wanted to leave by noon."

Lizzie sat on the bed struggling with her composure.

"Lizzie, we will be strong. We must be strong. Mother and Kitty and Lydia will be at Aunt Philips', and Mary left for the Convent yesterday. We have good, well-paying positions waiting for us. It will not be easy, but it is clear what we must do."

"Oh Jane, you bear it so well. It will be so strange. Me a governess, you a ladies companion. We will have so little time to be together."

Lizzie tugged at her black high-necked gown. If only... If only what? Mr.. Bennet had not collapsed suddenly and died? If only she had agreed to be Mr.. Darcy's wife? Unthinkable! If only Mr. Bingley had proposed to Jane before disappearing to London? There was a thought.

"Jane?"

"Yes dear."

"Maybe you will meet Mr. Bingley when you are in London. After all, you will be accompanying Mrs. Wyncham to fashionable dinners and parties, will you not?"

"Lizzie, if we do meet, he won't remember who I am, if he notices me at all. Remember, I will be caring for an elderly lady, not enjoying myself."

Lizzie sighed. "I suppose so. How are we ever going to get married now? Maybe that draper's assistant in Meryton will do for me."

Her sister giggled. "He is always so accommodating with the fabric and ribbons. And that bright red hair could serve instead of candles. Why, we could save a lot of money that way."

"Or the fish shop just got a new boy. He has freckles, and spiky hair, but the cologne he wears..." She was grinning wickedly, "Eau de salmon!"

They laughed together. The room was empty now. Taking one last look, they stepped out together.

Uncle Gardiner drew up in his coach. Mrs. Bennet stood on the porch sobbing with her two youngest daughters.

They waved. "Goodbye Mother, we will write as soon as we can."

"Goodbye Lizzie, Goodbye Jane."

The coach set off at a fair speed, and Lizzie sat back. She released a breath she didn't know she had been holding. Her mind was flashing with images of the last few weeks. She had barely had time to think.

A dark head. Haughty, conceited. Stalking out of the morning room at Hunsford.

Herself, sitting on the sofa, crying with fury.

The express arriving at Hunsford, Mr. Collins in his nightshirt, the shocking news of her father's demise.

Five sisters by an open grave. All in black. All crying.

Mr. Collins arriving. The realisation of homelessness dawning on her mother's face.

Again a dark head, "You must allow me to tell you how much I admire and love you."

Lizzie wondered where he was. Why do I care? She tried to push the thought away. She had left Hunsford a scarce twelve hours after their last encounter. She smiled wryly. They had certainly not parted on good terms.

The traveling was wearying and Lizzie was relieved when they arrived at Cheapside. She fell into her aunt's warm embrace. The tears she had held back all day could not silenced any longer, and she buried her head in Aunt Gardiner's shoulder. She shook for a long while, Aunt Gardiner stroking her hair, Jane clutching her other arm. At last she stopped. Embarrassed, she scrubbed her eyes.

"Well now, Lizzie, Jane. I'm sure you are both famished. Dinner is served." The girls smiled gratefully.

Early the next morning, Lizzie awoke. Where was she? The truth broke over her in a wave. She was in London. Today she would begin her job as a governess. Today her life would begin again.

She woke Jane. Jane would be leaving too. Mrs. Wyncham lived only a short while from the Braithwaites, for which Lizzie was thankful. They were sure to meet.

Lizzie pulled on the bell and stepped away from the door. It was opened by a maid.

"I am Elizabeth Bennet, the new governess." Her voice came out high and unnatural.

"Please come in."

A tall woman with a very square chin strode into the room a short while later. "Good morning Miss Bennet. I am Mrs. Jones, the housekeeper. I hope you are well. Your journey was satisfactory? Good, good. Now you have come very highly recommended, and I have a good feeling about you already. You will meet the children now. You begin lessons tomorrow. Did you want to ask me anything? No? Good."

Lizzie was drawn upstairs by the capable woman, noticing the beautiful hangings and richly coloured carpets. After her life at Longbourne, she felt lost in the huge hallways and ornate surroundings. There was no getting away from the fact she was in the town now.

As they reached the door of the nurseries, a boy of about nineteen or twenty came down the hall.
"Jonesy, did I hear that there were ginger biscuits fresh in the kitchen today?"

Mrs. Jones eyes lit up. "Elliot, my dear. Yes there are. Cook has made a special plate for you."

Elliot's eyes narrowed as he stared at Lizzie. "The new governess, I suppose?"

Lizzie started. "Yes, I am."

"Pretty."

He pushed past her, too close to be comfortable. And looked back over his shoulder to give her one last measured look before disappearing through a door.

Mrs. Jones gave a happy sigh, "That Elliot. He's the death of me. Now don't take any notice of him. He's just a mischievous little boy."

Lizzie nodded. "Of course."

She pushed the door open. "And these," said Mrs. Jones, "are the children."

Please review and tell me how I'm doing!

Shall I continue?