First Impressions

By Dinah Lewis

Lizzy Bennet's fundraising mission is to keep her homeless center's clients well-fed through a cold prairie winter. She meets the snobby and pompous William Darcy of Fitz & William Enterprises. While she'd never dare ask him for help, she can't stop bumping into him — sometimes, quite literally.

 

But when Lizzy's campaign is cut short by the disappearance of her sixteen-year-old sister, William and his younger sister step in to help the woman they want to make part of their family.

 

Inspired by Jane Austen's classic, Pride and Prejudice, First Impressions is Lizzy's quest for happiness, security, and love in the 21st century.

 

Note: This was originally published as First (wrong) Impressions by K. Ball.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dinah Lewis
• Release date: Jan 16, 2021
• ISBN: 9781393714422

Book preview

Chapter 1

September 10

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a large fortune must be in want of a charity to donate to. And Elizabeth Bennet’s job today was to find such a man and take his money. For charity.

Grant Proposal for kitchen upgrades (see attached list) to comply with Provincial Food Safety Regulations (see attached letter from Aria Jenkins, Health Inspector).

Government grants were difficult to get these days, especially since her agency had too many ties to churches. With Edmonton’s Ten Year Plan to End Homelessness, the focus was on housing. She was one hundred percent behind the housing initiatives; she sat on two of the committees. But she also needed funding for her kitchen.

Proposal by Elizabeth Bennet, Director of Street Services

The Faith-Hope-Love Refuge, Edmonton, AB

Amount requested: $15,000 (see attached budgetary breakdown).

They barely passed the health inspection. Aria, thankfully, didn’t just shut non-profits down. Instead, she was willing to work with Lizzy and find some compromises that didn’t close the kitchen, but also maintained food safety. Some things were simple enough, such as turning up the temperature on the hot water heater. Other things, like being unable to store any food in their shoddy fridge, was going to make life tricky.

If Lizzy couldn’t get her hands on the fifteen grand, she’d have to shut down her agency’s hot meal program in about four months—about the lifespan of her hot water heater and her freezer. She had calls out to several businesses to see if any could donate towards her new kitchen.

Plus, she was attending the quarterly Alberta Philanthropy Society breakfast the next morning, or as she liked to call it, the Rich People Breakfast. She had to convince someone, soon, to give The Faith their hard-earned money or her clients would be eating nothing more than stale doughnuts and lukewarm coffee this winter.

Right. She needed a new coffee urn, too.

And why, you might ask, was Lizzy short of funds? She sighed at the question in her head because it had been completely her own doing. She’d lost three major donors the previous month because she refused to let one of them evangelize to her patrons. That happened fairly often, and she’d step in to explain why it was frowned on.

Unfortunately, this time she’d taken it one step too far and pissed off a triumvirate of wealthy, socially-conservative churches who pulled their funding faster than you could say Jesus Saves. They voted with their feet and took their twenty grand in annual donations elsewhere.

That twenty grand could have easily paid for her new kitchen.

Jesus never had to put up with this shit, she said out loud to her computer.

You say something?

Lizzy looked around her monitor at her officemate and life-long best friend. Just berating myself.

Lukas Charlotte’s mouth quirked into a smile. He was a lean man, with dark, wavy hair, and an unusual attachment to work boots and plaid flannel shirts. That’s what you get for choosing religious freedom over donation funds.

Lizzy scowled at him. What was I supposed to do? That pastor came in and started preaching that everyone needed to repent their sins or burn in hell.

I know.

Lizzy jabbed a finger at him. I don’t mind people expressing their beliefs. I don’t mind it when the clients ask for pastoring or guidance or whatever they need. I don’t mind. It’s why we have a pastor on staff.

I know.

How dare that asshole tell them they are going to hell since they are addicts?

Lizzy, Luke interrupted her, I was there. Remember?

She stopped ranting and leaned back in her chair. There are days I just wish...You know what? I don’t even know what I wish for at this point.

A new kitchen?

Jerk. Lizzy made a face.

Stop your whining. We’d lose all of our funding if they found out about me. Be thankful it was only some of it.

Yeah, yeah, I know. Lizzy groaned in disgust.

She felt she’d never understand some of her donors. The Faith catered to homeless individuals who’d been banned from every other facility in town.

It’s like they don’t care if our people live or die, so long as they convert them before they freeze to death.

Luke’s smile faded. Lizzy, you don’t mean that.

Today I do.

The doorbell buzzer gave three short spurts. Lizzy looked at her desk phone’s clock and groaned. That’s probably Mom.

The buzzer went off again, this time a ten-second, nerve-piercing wail.

Oh, yeah, that’s definitely your mother. Luke punched a few more keys before shutting down his computer and grabbing his coat. Ed covering the floor tonight?

Lizzy gave a nod. I told him about the wedding shower, so we switched. She thought for a moment. Is this called a wedding shower, or something else?

How the hell should I know?

She’s your sister!

He pointed at himself. Like I care about pompoms and confetti.

This time, the buzzer was a staccato of about a dozen, annoying buzzes. Lizzy shoved on her jacket and grabbed her cell phone. She locked the office behind them before heading upstairs and outside, where a very annoyed woman stood.

What took you so long? Mom demanded.

Sorry, Mom, Lizzy said. I didn’t know you were outside.

Why didn’t you answer your phone? Jane must have called a dozen times.

Lizzy pulled her phone out of her pocket. It’s dead. Oops.

Oops? Mom said with disgust. Come on, we’re going to be late. Hello, Luke.

Hello, Winnie, he said with an impish grin. Sorry we took so long.

Yes, yes, hurry up. We’re late.

We’re really not, Mom, Lizzy said.

Her mother gestured wildly as she spoke. Charles Bingley is at Luke’s house right now and the Saviour only knows who is chatting him up when it should be one of my ungrateful daughters.

Who?

Charles. Bingley. Just hurry up and get in the van.

Hey, staff! A female voice called out.

Lizzy peered over the stair railing to see a half-naked woman lying among the rocks and glass shards that littered The Faith. She was curled around her backpack—a ragged grey thing with a broken zipper. A needle still in its plastic wrapper stuck out of the front pouch.

Hey, Susan, Lizzy replied. What happened to your clothes?

Mom rolled her eyes. Lizzy, we’re in a hurry.

Yes, I know, Mom. Susan, what happened?

Susan’s expression soured. Don’t even ask. Do you have any clothes inside?

Lizzy grimaced. We’re all out. The Mustard Seed is going to drop off more tomorrow for us, but that’s about it. Can you head up there?

They’re not open yet, Susan said. Got anything until then?

I can grab you a blanket. Luke offered.

Better than being half-naked.

Luke unlocked the door to fetch something for her and Lizzy turned back to Susan. Other than the clothes, you doing okay?

Susan nodded. Hot dogs again tonight?

Yup.

Lizzy hated serving the crappy food. These were people who needed the most nutritious meals possible. Many of her clients were missing their teeth, Hep C positive, diabetics, and a few were HIV positive. Some had full-blown AIDS. Some had cancer. They deserved so much better than a hot dog on a white bun, yet that was all she could give them.

She’d brought in a nutrition student once, as part of an internship through the University of Alberta. Free access to a soon-to-be-dietitian and a volunteer to boot was a good deal. The intern wrote up fabulous meal plans, filled with fruits and vegetables appropriate for those without teeth but palatable for everyone. Each meal had lean proteins, calcium-rich sides, and was high in fibre.

They weren’t cheap, though. The meals would’ve cost nearly four dollars a head and Lizzy’s budget ran around seventy-five cents a plate. She fed an average of a hundred people a night, seven days a week. She didn’t have the money for milk, bananas, and chicken breasts.

You should serve lobster and steak.

It was an old joke and Lizzy was happy to play along. One day, I’m going to surprise you all and do that.

That would be nice, Susan said. Then, after a pause, she said, Ya know? I’ve never had lobster.

It’s overrated, Luke said as he came back through the doors. He handed Susan a dark blanket. She complained that it was itchy, but Luke said it was that or the hot pink sheet with purple dots. Susan wasn’t happy, but she took the blanket; itchy was a whole lot better than bright pink when camouflage was necessary for her safety while drinking and half-naked.

See ya, Luke and Lizzy said in unison, walking to the van.

See ya, Staff.

Finally, Mom complained. Why couldn’t she ask for something before we got here? She’s got two legs. She could’ve rung the doorbell.

Mom, Lizzy’s older sister, Jane, chided, don’t be like that. Not today.

Lizzy smiled at Jane, but didn’t bother to argue with her mother. Really, there was no point when Mom was in a mood. Lizzy and Luke climbed inside. Hey Mary.

Mary was a short, mousey woman of twenty-three, who wore a lot of navy blue and black. Lizzy once joked this was because her sister believed the government, or possibly aliens, would ask for volunteers for human-machine experimentation and Mary wanted to look professional for the part.

Mary didn’t look up from her cell phone; no surprise there. She did wave at Lizzy, though, and said, Hey.

Where’s Lydia? Lizzy asked, buckling herself in.

Already there, Jane answered. She’s been helping set up.

Good for her. That girl needs a hobby that isn’t acting or boys.

Lizzy, hold your tongue, her mother scolded as she backed the van up, careful to weave around a staggering group in the middle of the road. I wish these people would watch where they’re going. One of these days, someone’s going to hit them.

Luke made a bitter sound. Someone already has.

Mary looked up from her cell phone. Lately? I didn’t read it in the news.

Luke answered her sister. Last week some asshole came speeding through here in a sports car and knocked one of the guys over. He didn’t even stop.

Just kept on driving like a fucking prick, Lizzy said.

Elizabeth Winifred Bennet, Mom said in her sternest voice, a lady does not use that language.

Sorry, Mom. Lizzy said automatically. "So, who is Charles Bingley and why are we rushing to see him?

That cheered Mom up. Denny’s rich second cousin. Isn’t that just wonderful?

Is that the one whose father won the lottery and invested it into computers or something? Mary asked.

Her mother looked in the rearview mirror and nodded. It is! Isn’t that just the best news you’ve heard all day?

It really is, Lizzy said, sighing.

We need better lives, Luke agreed. I didn’t know Charles was coming. I’ve never met him, but my sister has.

I don’t think he’s gay, Mom said with a fair amount of disappointment in her voice. Then, she perked up. Oh, he’s supposed to bring a friend. Did you want me to ask if he’s gay?

No, thank you, Winnie, Luke said. I have enough trouble without a boyfriend.

She let out a long sigh and said, I don’t understand any of you.

Mom was the kind of person who believed everyone should get married at least once in their life. When Luke came out to her, she patted him on the hand, saying, We’ll find you a nice young man, don’t you worry. And then you can have babies, too.

Mom really wanted everyone to get married at least once.

I’m married to my job, Luke said, winking at Lizzy.

Lizzy had to stifle a laugh because her mother would only turn her frustration on her.

Mom shook her head in disbelief. How is your mother supposed to get grandbabies if you won’t date anyone?

Mom... Lizzy said, rolling her eyes. Leave him alone.

You’re as bad as him. Twenty-six years old and neither of you married. Two peas in a pod, you are. It’s really too bad you’re not a man, Lizzy. You’d be a perfect couple.

Seriously, Mom?

Why is this rich cousin in town? Jane asked, trying to move the conversation on.

It did the trick. Well, apparently, he’s in town to housesit.

What does he do? Mary asked.

Who cares? He’s rich!

I’d find it boring to just sit around, Mary mused.

No kidding! Lizzy said. He must do something.

Well, Luke’s mother said that Denny told Maria that he’s still figuring that out. In the meantime, he travels a lot, Mom said.

Lizzy laughed. Sounds like he’s finding himself.

With fifty million dollars in the bank, Mom exclaimed, he can afford to be lost all he wants!

Chapter 2

The Charlottes owned a modest, but cozy, house in an older part of town. Lizzy’s mom pulled up under the overgrown trees that had already turned various shades of orange and red. The narrow side-street was covered in crushed multi-coloured leaves that crunched under Lizzy’s feet when she stepped out of the van.

Chatter and laughter hit Lizzy as soon as she opened the back door. She hadn’t even removed her sneakers before her youngest sister bounded into the back porch.

It’s about time you got here! Lydia exclaimed. Oh my God, Lizzy! You have got to meet Denny’s cousin.

Let me get my shoes off first, Lizzy said.

Lydia scrunched up her face in an exaggerated pout. She was tall for fifteen, with the deadly combination of a bombshell body on a youthful frame. The modeling companies loved her, and the commercials nearly as much. Her glossy black curls were tipped with pink, purple, and blue.

Lydia, stop being bossy, Jane said.

Lydia stuck out her tongue. Hurry up! Come on. No one expects you to take off your shoes, Jane. Just get up here.

Jane gave her that look that only elder sisters can pull off. Stop being bossy.

Lydia ignored the chiding to wave. Hey, Luke. Hi, Mary. Come on, hurry up! In a lower voice—or at least lower for Lydia—she said, Charles Bingley’s here. You have got to meet him.

Do we now? Lizzy said.

Jane pushed her outside shoes against the wall and pulled her indoor ones from her purse.

When she’d slipped them on, Lydia grabbed her arm. Okay, let’s go.

As Lydia dragged Jane up the stairs with Lizzy and company in tow, the chatter grew louder and the bubblegum pop of G’Anna, the millennium pop sensation, waged a war of noise against the voices.

G’Anna? Seriously? Lizzy made a disgusted sound. Aren’t you supposed to play sappy love songs at these things?

Power ballads are also acceptable, Mary called out. R&B as well.

Oo, Jane said, and the older jazz singers like Ella Fitzgerald.

Michael Bolton! Lizzy exclaimed to a flood of laughter from her sisters.

Lydia rolled her eyes. You are all so not with the times.

I’m not the one playing some washed-up thirteen-year-old’s music. Lizzy said, as she pushed, weaved, and waved her way through the house, Lydia in tow.

Lydia stopped prancing to whirl on her sister. G’Anna, also known as Georgiana de Bourgh-Darcy, retired from music at eighteen. No one knows why and it apparently cost her millions to get out of her contracts. They suspect it was totally because of her mother’s death. I think it was drugs.

Upon Jane’s arrival in the living room, several offered up their seats and the eldest Bennet sisters took a loveseat with thanks. Luke settled on the floor near Lizzy’s feet, and Mary squatted beside him, pulling out her cell phone.

You don’t even know my birthday, but you know the real name of a pop princess?

That’s because I care about her, Lydia snapped back, though she had a laugh in her voice.

Touching, Luke commented.

Lydia flounced off into the kitchen, ignoring him. Hi Charles! I want you to meet my sisters!

A moment later, Lydia returned with two men in tow. One was average height and good-looking, with dark, chiseled features and a wide smile. He wore a T-shirt and jeans, his long braid hung over one shoulder and he had enough muscle on him to bench-press an armoured car.

This is Jane, my oldest sister, and this is Lizzy. Lydia frowned. My sister Mary is...oh there she is. Jane, Lizzy, Mary, this is Charles Bingley, Denny’s cousin.

They exchanged greetings and Lizzy found herself liking this Charles Bingley and his broad shoulders. There was genuine warmth about him that Lizzy approved of instantly.

This is my friend, Darcy, he said.

Behind Charles loitered a taller man, as handsome as the rich cousin, but far less friendly-looking. He was in a blue button-up dress shirt and dark dress pants. His conservative haircut matched the outfit and his pale skin had a touch of sunburn, like he’d just gotten back from a beach vacation.

Good day, Darcy, Lizzy said. Are you from Edmonton?

No.

Charles glanced at him with amusement. Darcy lives in Calgary, like me. He’s up here for business. I decided to housesit for a friend whose condo is being renovated while she’s away, and hey! It’s Denny’s wedding soon and I haven’t seen him in a while. It all works out.

Lizzy smiled and turned to Darcy; he seemed the type of person who needed encouragement to talk around strangers. Sorry, I didn’t catch your last name. Darcy...?

William Darcy, he replied coldly. My friends call me Darcy.

Then what do strangers call you? Lizzy grinned.

Mr. Darcy.

The laugh in her voice died abruptly. So, not shy. Just an ass. Well, then, Mr. Darcy, I hope to one day achieve friend status.

Charles burst into laughter. She got you.

This Mr. Darcy glanced around as though he needed to be rescued by one of his no-doubt large fleet of servants.

Don’t take offence, Charles said, still laughing. Darcy hates parties.

Lizzy remained skeptical, but let it pass.

Lizzy, can you help me? It’s hard to move in this seat. Jane’s shoe had slipped off.

Sure. Lizzy bent down to help slip the shoe back on. Jane’s sock had caught on the inside of the shoe, so Lizzy adjusted it. I keep meaning to drive you to get a new one. This shoe is dead, Jim.

Jane grinned at the Star Trek reference, but said nothing. Her cheeks were flushed. Lizzy realized that she might’ve just made Jane uncomfortable in front of Charles, who, until now, had been exchanging a number of smiles with her.

My sister says women love shoe shopping. Charles said. She says it’s a universal truth.

Jane didn’t look up, her cheeks turning redder. Lydia huffed and crossed her arms, glaring at Charles. Even Mary gave him a sigh of disappointment.

Did I say something wrong? he asked, clearly confused.

Lizzy was about to answer, but Jane stopped her. She offered Charles a soft smile. They’re trying to figure out how to tell you I only have one leg.

Several expressions flashed across Charles’ face before embarrassment won the battle. Oh. He grimaced. I was trying to be...funny. He looked down at her leg, then away, once he’d realized he’d been staring. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude. Wow.

Lizzy took a deep breath. So, Mr. Darcy, what is it that you do? I don’t believe you said.

Darcy cleared his throat. I—

Oh, it’s fine. I’m not offended. Jane pulled up her pant leg above her sock until the peachy shell of her prostetic leg was visible. I’ve had it for six years now. I’m mostly used to it, but my sisters are overprotective, especially Lizzy.

I am not overprotective. Lizzy turned to Charles. People react strangely sometimes, and I don’t like to see anyone upset my sister.

That just means you’re a good sister. So, are those special shoes to wear indoors?

Jane nodded, giving him another smile. I tried going without them once, but I slipped and fell down the stairs. So, I wear them all the time now, just in case.

Lizzy leaned towards Charles and said sotto voce, What she’s trying to say is that she scared me so bad that I won’t let her go without them, and she’s doing this to shut me up.

Everyone laughed except Mr. Darcy, who looked as if he was about to be sent to the gallows. But at least most of the tension has been dispelled, and Charles, eager to please, sat down on the loveseat arm next to Jane and peppered her with questions about prosthetics and shoe shopping.

Another G’Anna song blasted from the speakers, drowning out the conversation.

Lydia, can’t you play something else? This is an engagement party, not a freaking prom.

"It’s not my fault you have no taste, Lizzy. The Battle is Over is like the best love song ever."

Actually, Mr. Darcy piped up, "I believe G’Anna’s best love song, and therefore the best love song ever, is What If You Stayed."

They turned to him, including Lizzy, who couldn’t help her slack-jawed expression.

Darcy cleared his throat, his cheeks flushed. G’Anna is my sister.

Lydia’s shrieks pierced the sound barrier, as she lunged at Darcy. Poor Mr. Darcy cringed as Lydia jumped around him, grabbing his shirt, rambling incoherently about G’Anna’s greatness and could he get his sister to come to Edmonton so that they could meet because OH MY GOD