"I don't know how I'm going to survive this Christmas." Lizzie hunches over the lunch room table, head between her hands. "Jane's been a wife and mother for forever, but Lydia - now Lydia the baby is engaged - and my mom will nag my ear off for sure."

Charlotte, friend and colleague and confidante, smiles indulgently at Lizzie across the grey surface. "But she's always been like this, hasn't she?"

"Obsessed with marrying off her daughters? Yes, definitely." Lizzie sighs. "But now she has real ammunition."

Charlotte laughs.

Coming from anybody else, that laugh would be considered insensitive and mocking. From Charlotte, it's just friendly.

It hasn't been easy for a girl with no family background or connections to establish herself so decidedly in the cyber-security world. She's rubbed a few people the wrong way on her rise to the top of her department, and some friendships have been impossibly ruined before they could even fully form.

And that's why Charlotte - married, steady, and in competition with no one thanks to the nature of her job - has been Lizzie's office bestie since time immemorial. There's really no one else she can trust around Pemberley Corp.

"Marriage isn't the only accomplishment one can have," Charlotte packs up her Japanese-style lunchbox as she talks, "you're a strong and independent woman with your own very significant career achievements. That should count for something during family reunions, shouldn't it?"

"It should, but it doesn't - no in our house." Lizzie blows some air upwards to toy with her bangs. "I pack with me the most star-studded resumé and all my mom can see is the blazing neon sign above my head that says '29 and still single.'"

"Lizzie."

"What?"

"You're exaggerating."

"Am I though? Have you ever met my mom?"

Charlotte chuckles. "Alright, fine. She really is like that."

Lizzie nods dramatically, eyes wide.

"It's just Christmas though, isn't it? The presents should help cheer you up." Charlotte zips up the floral container for her lunch box, never one to underestimate the power of life's little joys. "You've always liked your father's presents."

"Christmas is tolerable. I do like seeing Jane and Lydia get their presents. But New Year's the kicker. It's all champagne and extended family and people trying to figure out what the heck is wrong with you - to be single into one's old age."

"I married at thirty. You're not that old."

"Jane married at twenty-one."

"And there's your culprit."

Lizzie throws her head back and groans.

Charlotte's smiles is matronly, even if she's just a couple years older. She stands up, floral lunch bag in hand. "It's still a month until Christmas, dear. Maybe you'll meet someone."

"Because the graveyard shift at a nerd-centered work place is such a perfect place to meet prince charming."

Charlotte's laugh returns. "To be fair, there is a very high ratio of single men to single ladies around here."

"That's some comfort, I guess."

"And I guess I should thank you for keeping me company then - instead of focusing on your romantic conquests."

Lizzie quirks a brow. Charlotte laughs. Charlotte's always laughing. It's one of the reasons it's so nice to be her friend.

"Thanks for listening to me rant." Lizzie sighs, grasping at the last few minutes of her lunch break. One of the perks about getting the day shift is having actual, real, human company for her breaks. But she needs to put in the hours if she wants to visit the other side of the country for Christmas and New Year - so her work days have been strenuously long recently. "I'll put on my big girl pants and get over it."

"That's my girl."

"And I will pray, with every fiber of my being, that God drops the perfect boyfriend in my lap within the next four weeks. Preferably tall, dark, and handsome - but I'll take two out of three, if necessary."

Charlotte's shaking head and indulgent laugh echo all the way down the hall.


"Ms. Collins, my office, ASAP!" The acting director thunders as he storms into his glass corner office.

Charlotte takes a steeling breath, adjusts her clothes, and stands up to enter the lion's den like the perfect executive assistant that she is.

"Yes, Mr. Darcy?" She stands primly on her heels. Her boss is young, magnetic, and commanding - with a loose canon of a temper. There's a reason his assistant is one of the highest-payed jobs in the whole company. And there's also a reason she's the only person who's managed to keep this post for more than two years.

"Are the contracts done?"

"Since yesterday. On your top right drawer, sir."

"And the card for Aunt Catherine."

"Signed, sealed, delivered."

"The guest list for the New Year Charity Ball - "

"Compiled completely. The e-mails went out this morning. The physical invitations go in the mail this afternoon. We should have all the RSVP responses in a week before Christmas."

Gradually, her boss's heaving slows.

He nods, his head of cropped brown curls a total mess above his expensive suit. She does his dry cleaning. She knows how much to sue for if any stain gets on any corner of those beauties.

"Thank you, Ms. Collins."

"My pleasure, Mr. Darcy."

Her usually stoic boss closes his eyes - and collapses onto his magnificent leather swivel chair with a long, dark sigh.

Charlotte waits. One of the greatest gifts in dealing with people is knowing exactly how long to wait.

Two minutes later, she asks, "How was your board meeting, sir?"

William Darcy groans, burrying his face in his hands.

"It seems as if it did not go well, sir."

"Yes and no." Darcy leans back before smirking grimly. "They are pleased with everything going on with Pemberley Corp. But they believe me unready to be the actual company director."

Charlotte angles her head slightly. "There is no one more qualified than you, Mr. Darcy."

"I may believe so - but they do not." Her boss props a hand under his chin. His diamond cufflink glints.

"You have been striving for many years to prove that you can handle the company in your own right - apart from your father's legacy." Sometimes, an executive assistant is a therapist too. "You have proved yourself well, sir."

"Thank you, Ms. Collins. But I'm afraid your opinion does not quite affect theirs."

"What do they wish, sir?"

Her boss pauses, as if considering to reveal company secrets or not.

Then he shakes his head. "I need some coffee. Get on it pronto."

"Yes, Mr. Darcy." Charlotte turns dutifully towards the exit - the lone clear pane in a wall of semi-frosted glass. She gets to the door.

"Ms. Collins."

"Yes, sir?" She turns to face him.

"Does marriage truly change a person completely?"

"I fail to understand you."

Darcy leans back, looking helpless for the first time in a long time.

"The board believes that a young professional - however qualified - should be considered too volatile and unstable until he is married. And a single man is therefore unreliable as a leader of a company."

"I see."

The existential crisis that currently besets him is left implied.

"Are they correct, Ms. Collins?"

Charlotte, who seldom ever puts a single foot wrong, answers, "I suppose it depends on how you see it, Mr. Darcy."

"Am I supposed to find a random woman to put on my arm just to prove that I am somehow more stable and reliable as I would be without her?"

"There are worst problems to have, sir."

And his dark mood returns - for the rest of the long, tiring day.


A/N: For some reason, I love writing modern Charlotte a lot more than Regency Charlotte, and this story is no exception. Thus begins my JAFF take on every Christmas rom-com cliché. Netflix and Hallmark better watch their backs. Haha, just kidding :)