Stars Are Nothing But A Lot of Hot Gas-Chapter One

Posted By: Rachel SW.
Date: Thursday, 20 July 2006, at 5:22 p.m.

DNA-Author's Notes-Blurbage-Elizabeth Bennett lives in rural Indiana near her former B-movie director father, and actress mother. When Charles Bingley arrives in town to shoot his debut film and brings along with him his old friend, Fitzwilliam Darcy, things get more messy and complicated than her Dad's horror films ever were. Fantasia Gallery

Chapter One

“Girls!” Frannie Bennett swept into the room, smearing another coat of lipstick on her puckered mouth, “You will never believe the news I have!”

“Is everything okay?” Jane, her eldest daughter asked

“It couldn't be more perfect! Guess who's been asked to work on a film being shot right here in Longbourn?”

“Well, Dad, naturally.” piped up Elizabeth, her second oldest.

“Yes!” Frannie clapped her hands together and began to arrange her youngest, Lydia's hair in a upsweep.

“That's great, Mom. Dad must be really happy.” Jane smiled at Elizabeth.

“Oh! That's not the best part!” Frannie took a dramatic pause. “Guess who is directing the film?”

“Who?” Lydia jumped up out of her seat, squealing, “Don't tell me! It's George Clooney, isn't it? I know he's old enough to be Daddy's age, but that's not going…”

“Hush, child!” Frannie waved her hand around irritably, and gently pushed Lydia back onto the couch. “No. It's Charles Bingley!”

Blank expressions of startling similarity spread across the features of all five sisters. Their mother was undeterred and continued to say the name over and over, as if she said it enough times one of them was bound to make a connection.

“Bingley! Charles Bingley! Charlie, Bingley, Bingles, Chuck, Chaz, Bingley, girls, Bingley!”

“Mom. We don't know who that is.” Elizabeth said, to the nodded agreement of her sisters.

“Don't you girls read US Weekly? Or go on the internet? Charles Bingley, son of Randolph Bingley, founder and CEO of Bingley department stores? Use to date that Heather Jarvis, from that TV show? He directed music videos for awhile, had a minor speaking part in that new Pixar movie? He's a celebrity.” She said this last word with proper reverance, whispering the last word and punctuating it with an open mouth and popped eyes.

“Mom, let's not get carried away. He can't be that big of celebrity if none of us have ever heard of him.”

“You girls live under a rock. Every one knows who he is!” Frannie clasped her hands, “But that doesn't matter. What's important is that there is a rich, handsome, director that is going to be in constant contact with my girls for the entire summer. He's bound to fall in love with one of you.”

“I'd hate to burst your bubble, but I think if he's used to women like Heather Jarvis, you are going to have a future of nothing but broken hearts.” Elizabeth interjected, then looked to her older sister, “Okay, I take that back, he'd probably be very happy with Jane.”

Jane blushed, “Oh, Lizzy, he wouldn't be anymore interested in me than he would be in any of us.”

“Yes, you're quite right. Men hate exceptionally beautiful women.” She gave her sister a teasing smile.

“Listen to Elizabeth, Jane! You're much better looking than Heather Jarvis!” Mrs. Bennett sniffed.

“What about me, Mom?” Lydia begged.

“Of course! All my girls are a sight prettier than Heather Jarvis! She's only a television performer for a reason. Everyone knows that real actresses are on film or the stage.” Frannie hadn't been in a theatre since her high school years, but she'd been on film. Despite her lack of roles in productions that her husband was not in charge of, Frannie was considered the town authority on celebrity. Who was talented and who wasn't. Who seemed like a genuinely nice person, who was a total asshole. “Now, the trick is getting your father to introduce us…”

At this Ralph Bennett peeked his head around the doorway. “I've been standing here, listening to you prattle for some time now, waiting for you to bring up this very subject. The answer is no, darling. I haven't worked in ten years and I don't need the distraction. Charles Bingley is a rookie, and he doesn't need by family undertow, distracting him. Maybe once we wrap we can have him over to dinner, but there will not be so much as a brief introduction before then.”

“No!” Frannie shot up from her chair and hurried towards the bar to pour herself a drink, “You cannot do this, Ralph! It is unacceptable, and furthermore, rude to not at least make an introduction before you work intimately with him for the summer! It's offensive!” She took a long gulp. “To him!”

“I am sure that he will be much too busy to be offended.” Mr. Bennett patted his wife's back, “Unfortunately, he must endure the pain of not knowing our daughters for a few more months.”

“Why do you hate our girls?” Frannie's agitation cranked up a notch and her voice grew shrill and thin, “Why do you want them to wind up penniless and alone? Why are you depriving them of the chance to meet a man who could give them whatever they wanted?”

“I know that I am doing Bingley a great disservice by not introducing him to my silly daughters,” he smiled at Jane and Elizabeth, “My mostly silly daughters. And I do myself a disservice by not putting one of them off on him as soon as possible. But work is more important.”

“If work were so important,” Mrs. Bennett began traitorously, “Then you wouldn't have quit for a decade!” She finished off her drink, “I can't believe you're doing this. You've ruined us, absolutely destroyed any chance at happiness for our children.”

“Well, I don't know about you,” Mr. Bennett announced rather cheerfully, “But I consider this matter to be very closed.” He turned to his favorite daughter, “Although, when the happy occasion does happen, I hope he picks you, Lizzy.”

“Me too. I really need a new car.”

“See? You girls always wanted a swimming pool, right? You've all got about three months to make yourselves as desirable as possible, and you can have one!” Mr. Bennett took a sip off the fresh drink in his wife's hand.

“RALPH!” Frannie set down the drink and took his hands in hers, “I am begging you to reconsider. You'd better believe that Mr. And Mrs. Lucas will be over there with Charlotte and Maria before the day is out!”

“Oh, I seriously doubt that, sugarplum.”

“And why is that? Why shouldn't they?”

“Bingley doesn't arrive for two more days.” Mr. Bennett laughed as an indignant scream pierced the air.

“I hate you, Ralph. I sincerely do.”

“Ah, well, that's not the first time I've heard that and yet you are still here. I'm going to take my chances on this one.” He smiled at his second daughter again, “After all, Lizzy still loves me, and I will learn to be satisfied with that.” He cleared his throat, stared down his wife for a beat, and retired to his office for the remainder of the evening.

Precisely one week later Elizabeth was lying on her couch in her small apartment, catching up on the horribly cheesy soap opera that she taped each day. One could not ask for better, more entertaining, comic relief. Lately, the main villain had kidnapped the main ingénue and sent a demon spirit into her body to destroy the entire town. That's good stuff. She chuckled at the low end special effects and rolled her eyes at the terrible dialogue when the phone rang. She let the machine pick up and heard this message, trumpeted at full volume.

LIZZY! LIZZY! This is Mommy. I have VERY IMPORTANT NEWS so you must call me the INSTANT you get this message. Its to do with CHARLES BINGLEY. There's a dinner tonight for the INVESTORS, and we're INVITED!!!!! So are the LUCASES, of course, but YOU MUST ATTEND. And wear something nice, please. You have a VERY NICE FIGURE if only you would wear clothes that show it off. Call me back IMMEDIATELY. Love you!!

Elizabeth knew when to pick her fights, gave herself ten minutes to finish off the episode and dutifully called her mother.

They spoke and Elizabeth was relayed the facts that the dinner was semi-formal, to begin at 7:30 precisely, and was to take place on the estate that Charles had rented for the summer, Netherfield. The estate was situated just 4 miles from the Bennett's decidedly more modest colonial. She was to come to her parent's house first, and then leave with them for the dinner, along with all four of her sisters. She was to dress nice in something that showed off her bosoms.

*************************************

“Oh...My...GOD!” Charlotte breathed as she approached the entryway of Netherfield. “I know they were doing renovations, but this is beautiful.”

"I'm glad I waited outside for you just for that reaction. It is beautiful." Elizabeth could not help but agree, the large house sat on 10 untouched acres of wooded, pristine, nature. They had reigned in the overgrowth in front of the old mansion and created a formal garden. The house itself was almost unrecognizable. The only parts that were left as they originally were was the frame. It was the same shape, but nothing else.

“I can't believe this! How much do you think he spent getting this in back in form?”

“There's no way of knowing, but I imagine quite a bit.” Elizabeth hovered outside the front door. This was not what she was expecting. She'd always found her father's work friends to be very casual, and dinners like these generally consisted of the director's wife cooking a meal for everyone at some modest house they were renting in town. She'd never even been inside a house as big as Netherfield. Neither had anyone else in town, considering the old structure had been condemned for the past thirty years.

The door creaked open before they could knock and they were greeted by a man with curly blonde hair and an unassuming smile. “Hello, ladies. Charles Bingley, pleased to meet you.” He offered his hand for a shake.

Elizabeth accepted with a smile. “Hello. I'm Elizabeth Bennett and this is…”

“Charlotte Lucas.” Charlotte grinned wildly and thrust out her hand.

“Ah, Ralph Bennet's daughter. Second oldest, correct? And you are William Lucas' eldest, right?” Charles smiled and gestured for them to enter.

“That's us.” Elizabeth instantly felt more at ease. It was obvious that Charles Bingley was no Hollywood snob. She knew she should have trusted her father's judgment. Ralph Bennett had a very low tolerance for spoiled brats. Even when they were his children.

“You're just on time. There's a decent amount of people gathered in the ballroom, where we'll be serving dinner.” Charles led them across the foyer and down a hallway.

“Ball room?” Elizabeth's eyes widened, “How many people are you expecting?”

“Just the investors, some of my family, and a few friends that will be on the shoot with us for the summer.” Charles said, waving his hand, “About 150 people. Roughly.”

“Wow. I remember when we were kids and your dad would have these, back when he was still working,” Charlotte mused, turning to Elizabeth, “There would be twenty people there, at most.”

“Dad's films were always rather small. I don't think he needed that many investors.” Elizabeth laughed, and turned to Charles, “How did you go about raising money?”

Charles blushed, “I had some connections from my music video career, and my father is helping, along with some of his friends. The bulk of it is coming from Universal, but we're being distributed by Fox.”

“Goodness. I didn't know this was a studio production.” Elizabeth paused at the sight of the ball room which was glowing warmly with candlelight and twinkling as the light played off the marble floors and crystal glasses. “This is gorgeous.”

“Thank you. Yes, we're all set, the budget's at 70 mil, but we'll use most of that for post.” Bingley lead them to their table, “The shoot will last around 3 months. Sharon, my lead, has to be back for the new Ratner movie after that, so the schedule is pretty tight.”

“What kind of movie is it?” Charlotte asked, taking the seat where her gold embossed place card sat.

“Action. It's about a man who is kidnapped and taken into rural wilderness, where he must locate his family and…” Charles began and stopped himself, “Eh, who cares about the plot, anyway. Lots of explosions, some blood, a bit of suspense. It's a popcorn movie.”

“That explains why my Dad is here.” Elizabeth said dryly.

“I have loved your father's films since my college days. It's amazing what he accomplished on the shoe-iest of shoestring budgets.”

“The man can stretch a dollar like no other.” Elizabeth scanned the room for him, and found him across the room, talking to Jane.

Charles followed Elizabeth's eyes and once he caught a glimpse of Jane, he had a visibly hard time pulling away.

“That's my sister, Jane.” Elizabeth smiled conspiratorially, “Would you like me to introduce you?”

“Certainly.” He smoothed his hair and checked his reflection quickly with a fork.

He offered both she and Charlotte his arm as they crossed the room. Elizabeth was much delighted to note that her sister looked just as intrigued by Charles as he did her. They did not say anything, but exchanged nervous smiles and shook hands briefly. She caught her father's eye and he gave her a wink, and gracefully extracted himself, Elizabeth, and Charlotte from the dumbstuck twosome.

***********************

“If you tell your mother I did that, I will strangle you with my own hands. And I will like it.” He whispered out of the corner of his mouth to Elizabeth, who laughed. “The same goes for you, Charlotte. I don't care how long you've been friends with my daughter, or how long I've been friends with your father.”

“I wouldn't dream of saying a word.” Charlotte giggled, too and looked back at the blonde couple. “They look awfully nice together, don't they?”

“Lizzy, with a bit of luck, we won't even have to wait until the end of the summer to get that pool. Do tell your sister to mention it, he already looks to be enough in love to buy the stupid thing.”

***********************************

“Darcy! You can't just stand there looking bored. At least attempt to mingle!” Charles demanded of his dark haired friend.

“I believe I can sit here looking bored. No one is going to stop me.”

“It's rude, Darcy! Come now, there are tons of attractive women here. Why don't you try talking to some of them. You might surprise yourself and have a good time.”

Neither of the gentleman noticed when Elizabeth Bennett, tired from a vigorous waltz with her father, took a seat next to them to grab a drink and catch her breath.

“I sincerely doubt that there is anything that is going to make this a good time. I hate fly-over country.”

“This is what America is about! The large cities, those are just anomalies. This is how the majority of the country lives.”

“I don't care, Bingley. Everyone that matters lives in those little “anomalies” you're talking about.”

“There are so many hot looking women here, Darcy. You are missing out.”

“You were talking with the only good looking woman here.”

“Who? Jane Bennett? Gods, she is beautiful, isn't she? And sweet, too.”

Elizabeth smiled. She could tell that Jane felt the same way about him.

"What about her sister?" Charles asked his friend.

"They are entirely too young." Darcy remembered the rambunctious teenaged girls walking in with thier parents.

"No, not the young ones. Elizabeth, the second oldest. Dark, curly, hair, nice smile, big...uh..." He stuck his hands out in front of his chest to indicate her sizable bosom. "you-knows."

Elizabeth blushed at the mention of her name and thought that she ought to move, but found herself unable to do so.

"That one?" Darcy looked in her direction with an almost sneer, "She's pretty enough, I suppose, but not enough to tempt me."

"You are insane." Charles ran his hands through his hair in frustration. "If you are determined to not have any fun at all, I won't stop you."

"Thank you." Darcy turned from his friend and resumed his position standing by the window, scowling at the attendees.

Chapter Two

Elizabeth waited for Bingely to leave her sight before vacating her seat. As far as she knew, the gentlemen were unaware that she had been so close by. So, she had at least been spared that humiliation.

Not that it mattered, of course. What did she care if some snotty, no-fun, bore didn't find her tempting?

Eff him.

She sought out Charlotte Lucas to relay the news. “Do you know who that man is?” She asked, directing her friend to a sitting area in the far corner of the room.

“Who?”

“Over there, by the window. Tall, dark hair. The one who looks like someone just dropped their pants and took a dump in front of him.”

“Of course I know who that is, don't you?”

“Yeah, I was just making sure you knew.”

”Oh, shut up. That's Fitzwilliam Darcy.”

“Still not ringing any bells.”

“He's an actor.” Charlotte paused, “I can't tell if you're joking or not, Lizzy. He's pretty famous.”

“For what? I don't recognize him.”

“He's in a lot of period movies. Dangerous Liaisons and stuff like that.”

“He was in Dangerous Liaisons?”

“No! He's just in a lot of Masterpiece Theatre type things.”

“Well, then he's not that famous. The only person I know that watches that stuff is you.”

“I'm going to tell your mom that you didn't know who he was.”

Elizabeth snorted, “Like my mom knows! Unless Fitzwilliam Darcy has dated Justin Timberlake or done some other thing worthy of In Touch, she'd haven't the slightest.”
“Okay, so he's not all that famous. But he's been in tons of movies. He's does a lot stage work, too. He's a very good actor. It doesn't even matter if he's famous or not, because he's terrifically rich, even before he ever started acting.”

“How do you know this crap?”

“The internet! I IMDB'd him once.”

“God Bless the internet.”

“Indeed.”

“I certainly hate to break any hearts, but I must tell you that Mr. Darcy apparently thinks that we're a bunch of mongrel dogs unworthy of his table scraps.”

“What do you mean?”

“I was sitting over by him when Charles came over to enquire after him. He kept on being all terse, so Bingley changed tact and starts talking broads, and he basically said that I was alright, but not enough to tempt him.”

“Oh my, Lizzy. What did you do?”

Elizabeth laughed, “I waited for Charles to leave and came over to tell you.”

That's a shame. He doesn't know what he's missing out on.”

“I know! How sad am I that some L.A. yutz doesn't want me to be his summertime skank?”

“He's more New York snob than L.A. yutz.”

“Whatever. I'm just upset about not being able to be used for my body.”

“Are you joking? Because, quite frankly, I'm genuinely a bit upset.”

“He is handsome, I'll give you that. Too bad he's a fatheaded jerk.”

Aren't they always?”

“Indeed.”

**

Fitzwilliam Darcy spared another look at the brunette that Bingley had pointed out earlier. He had been too quick to dismiss her. She was rather pretty.
Not that it mattered, of course. He was stuck in this backwoods hellhole for three months and the last thing he needed was some clingy local that he'd have a hard time getting rid of.

He glanced at her again and found himself admiring her eyes.

He was glad that he didn't have an opportunity to mention those to Bingley. He didn't need his friend running interference.

He found himself admitting that if he had met her back home, if she had come from a different place in life, he would probably be in some danger.

But for now, that was not the case.

“Darcy?” He heard a female voice whisper behind him, “What are you doing? I know this isn't your idea of acceptable society, but I must insist that you stop grimacing long enough to entertain me.”

Caroline Bingley smoothed her red hair and smiled. “I demand to be entertained.”

“Yes, well, as soon as I find something entertaining you will be the first person I show.”

“This is a dreadful party, isn't it? There isn't even a hotel in town. I told Charles a million times that he can't expect the talent to stay in this musty old house with the crew. I have never worked on a set as unprofessional as this.”

“We're not on set yet, you know. Technically.” Darcy cared little for sleeping arrangements. Compared to some of the other projects he had worked on this was a cake walk.

“Charles is my brother and honestly, I'm only doing this as a favor to him. I don't think that it's too much to ask that the talent be given a little consideration.” Caroline said this despite a career that consisted of one supporting role in a short-lived prime time drama, two direct to DVD films, a fairly successful four year stint on a soap opera, and a toothbrush commercial.”

“We've got a lot riding on this, Caroline. Let's wait for starting in with the hostilities.”

“You've got a lot riding on this, maybe. My screen time totals a whopping, what? Twenty five minutes or so?”

“It's a good part.”

“Yes, it is.” Caroline was desperate to boost the lull in the conversation, “Did you get the chance to meet the infamous Bennett sisters? I felt so sorry for everyone when I found out that they are considered the town beauties! Of course, the oldest….Jane? Blonde hair? She's a very sweet girl and very beautiful. But the others? They are all barely above plain if you ask me.”

“I hadn't really noticed.”

“You've noticed the mother, haven't you?”

“It's hard not to.”

“I don't think there is a more repulsive, obnoxious, biddy in existence! So proud of her pathetic little career. And the second oldest! How very common and coarse she is.”

“I hadn't noticed.”

“Ugh, there is something so…unpolished about her. No grace or elegance. And she possesses a sort of arrogance that she has not earned.”

Darcy turned away from her and resumed his position glaring at the crowd.

Caroline took the hint and went away.

**

Not pretty enough to tempt him?” Frannie scoffed and bulged her eyes. “Well, he hasn't been talented enough to tempt any box office success, so what he has to say is of little consequence.”

“I agree entirely, Lizzy.” Her father piped up, “Biker Sluts From Mars grossed more than his last project…when you factor in inflation, of course.”

“That was your biggest success, Dad.”

“Still.”

“It doesn't matter anyway. I had no interest in him to begin with.”

“This whole thing is really too bad. From what William Lucas was telling me, that Darcy is worth more than two Bingleys.”

“That's what Charlotte said.”

“Yes, yes, it's old newspaper money that's been reinvested a billion times over. His family is worth about 80 million as of last year. That's net worth, for certain.” Frannie scrunched her nose, “Just goes to show that people who have everything are the most ungrateful sort of all.”

“How do you know that, Mom? How does everyone know everything about him but me?”

“By keeping one eye and one ear open at all times, Lizzy. I've always been like that, sacrificing my good time in order to secure intelligence on any single men that might be in attendance.”

”And not at all because she loves to gossip.” Her husband added.

”Do be quiet, Mr. Bennett. My nerves are not to be tried after this evening.”

“Really? I would have thought that Jane's great success with Bingley would have you over the moon.”

“Yes, he did seem rather taken with her, didn't he? Mark my words, Ralph. He's bound to fall in love with one of them.”

“So you are feeling better, then?”

“No, certainly not! I still have four other daughters to worry about, and that Fitzwilliam Darcy's ungracious comments towards our Lizzy.” Frannie rooted around in her purse for some ibuprofen. “I thought I asked you to be quiet, Ralph.”

“That's too bad, dear. I was just going to turn the car around and ask Charles Bingley if all five of our girls could move in with him for the summer. But, since you want me to be quiet, I guess I'll just have to forget about it.”

“RALPH!” Frannie started, as he chuckled.

“Oh, you've put your foot in it now, Frannie.”

“Just be quiet. QUIET!”

**

If Elizabeth was going to be honest, as she quite often was, she would be forced to admit that Darcy's words stung her, at least a little bit. It was quite natural, as no one liked to hear that they weren't good enough for another, regardless if its truth. Elizabeth was human, and at that moment, quietly reflecting on the event in her bed, she hardened towards him. She would always be inclined to think the worst.

Why shouldn't she?

It wasn't as though he had ever given her a reason not to.

**
He watched her as she left the party, all wild hair and too-big smiles. He'd been rather disturbed when, thirty minutes later, his mind was still fixed on her. It wasn't out of an immediate, carnal, attraction. It wasn't because he found her mysterious, or exquisitely beautiful. It wasn't because she'd done something to offend him. It was mostly because of how she laughed. He'd stopped there ten minutes ago and found himself unable to move on. She didn't bray loudly, or giggle, or snort. She laughed with her eyes and she meant it. It was…nice.

“Charles if you have one of these ever again, it will be too soon.” Caroline threw Darcy a quick glance.

“No time until the wrap party, anyway.”

“All this did was make me realize how much I miss Los Angeles.” She looked at the dark haired man again, “What's on your mind, Darcy? You look like you're on painkillers.”

He was staring off distantly, mouth agape in concentration. His eyes were glazed over, and furthermore, he did not hear her.

“Darcy!” She moved to him and waved her hand in front of his face, “Hello, do you read? Over.”

“Hmph-wha?” He shook his head and turned his attentions to Caroline, “What now?”

“What's this all about?”

”Oh, nothing.” There was a smirk playing at his mouth.

”No need to hide from me, Darcy. We've known each other for ages.”

“I was thinking about the feeling that you get from a pair of nice eyes in a pretty woman.”

“Oh, really?” Caroline inched closer, “And may I ask who the woman is?”

His smile threatened again and he chirped, “Of course. It's Miss Elizabeth Bennett.”

Caroline laughed, “So when do I get an invite to the wedding?”

It was Darcy's turn to laugh, “That's how it always is with you. I say a woman is pretty, you ask when the wedding is.”

“I don't hear you mention how pretty you think a woman is very often. I can only assume that you're madly in love with her.”

“Madly, you say?”

“Wildly.” Caroline tried to catch his eyes with her own, “I personally can't wait for Christmas at Pemberley. You, Charles, me, your darlingest Elizabeth, and her delightful mother.”

“Ah, very nicely done, Caroline. I was going to go to town and pick up a ring tomorrow, but you have once again brought me back down to earth.”

Caroline snorted, “Like this hick town has a jeweler.”

**

Caroline never mentioned to a soul that once everyone had retired, she found herself alone in her room, and she had practiced Elizabeth Bennett's laugh and facial expressions. She was very much vexed when she discovered that she could not pull them off.

CHAPTER THREE

Elizabeth rifled through the papers in her father's office, “I don't know, Dad, I think that DVD boxed set sounds like a good idea.”

“I am entirely too old to be farting around with such nonsense. I think you do an admirable job of handling things, Lizzy, but can't this wait until I die? I imagine that we would probably sell quite a bit more of those boxed things if we timed it to coincide with the smattering of press I'll get when I pass on.”

“Please don't talk like that.” She put her hand on his arm, “I don't like thinking about it.” She patted him, “Ultimately, it's up to you. You're doing alright, but Dad, I do think that there is a market for them.”

The Ralph Bennett collection had risen in stock through the recent years. Though he had long been a favorite of dorm room smartasses across the nation, he had begun to receive recognition from some of the industry's newest talent, who cited him as inspiration. For many years his estate had needed no management as Ralph's career consisted of busy convention seasons where he lead panel discussions and sold 8x10 autographed glossies for ten bucks a pop.

It hadn't made Ralph a wealthy man, but it had given him enough to live on and to provide for his family.

His renaissance of sorts had begun inauspiciously enough eleven years ago when Ralph had given his permission for one of his lesser films, (and that was certainly saying something), Zoltar: Hound of Dracula, to be mocked on an episode of Mystery Science Theatre 3000. The show itself, wherein three robots and one human must endure a non stop avalanche of horrible movies, with only their ability to ridicule to protect them, eventually turned into a cult hit with a decently sized fan base.

Due to the nature of the program, many filmmakers found themselves unwilling to consent to the release of “their” episode onto video in later years. Fortunately for Ralph Bennett, he held no such pride and had enjoyed the program. Chiefly because they had dedicated a good chunk of time to making fun of Frannie's voice.

This paid dividends for Ralph later, upon cancellation of the show. Fans snapped up the infrequent video and later DVD releases and soon, Zoltar: Hound of Dracula ranked among such classics as Mitchell and Manos, Hands of Fate.

There was a second boost that came three years ago with the rising popularity of the DVD and the publication of a book that detailed the hey-day of Ralph Bennett Productions. It had never been a nationwide bestseller, but had done well in niche markets and enabled him, in his increasing age, to retire from conventions.

His newfound, relative, notoriety and prosperity had soon caused his career to become unmanageable by his standards. He passed along the job happily to Elizabeth.

She was glad to help. The work interested her and she knew that he father was well pleased to finally be getting a bit of respect from his peers. Elizabeth had been more than content to idle here for the past few years.

Ambition had taken a backseat to practical family matters.

Even as she consoled herself with the notion, she knew it was a lie.

The truth was, she still did not know what she wanted to be when she grew up. She was already 27 and not quite sure of how much longer she had to make a decision. Her father would support her fully, no matter what, so she did not even have that as an excuse.

She'd been 18 and just graduated when she had gone off and done what was expected of her. She had only been able to stomach one and one half of a semesters worth of film theory in New York before transferring to a technical school in Minnesota. She hadn't wanted to be forced to form an opinion about Fellini, other than that bit of business with the clowns all the time was a bit unintentionally funny. She wanted to know how to properly mic a scene. Three years later she received her degree and set out to make her own independent short.

The film was simple enough, based on a love letter that an old friend had received from her first “boyfriend” in the seventh grade.

A voice over read the letter while it was presented in its written form via split screen versus two actors (one being her sister Lydia) portraying the young couple.
This would seem saccharine, but the boy, who was nice enough as far as Elizabeth could remember, had a unique way with words.

She did not know what had possessed him to write things such as, “You're lips are like too soft cowch pillos.” Or, while waxing poetic on her thick, extremely curly hair, “You're hair is like flufy blak clods.” And her personal favorite, “Love, Yours truely, Brain.”

Her father had loved it, and she was proud to not have embarrassed herself.

She remembered clearly the shoot. It had been the most disappointing day of her life. The two months of preparation and hard work to get to the point, and she had been shocked when she discovered that she didn't really like it all that much.

In the very beginning, during pre-production, she had loved it. Loved negotiating with business owners over locations, charming the equipment guys into allowing her to rent for a cheaper fee, schmoozing the grant writer. She had enjoyed being presented with a specific set of circumstances and having to bend everything else to fit it.

She's stood on set, watching back her first ever scene as a director, and she waited for her pride to be awakened, waited to feel a sense of completion, but it never came. It had been fun, but watching her hard work put into action had left her feeling let down, ultimately.

It didn't make her happy.

Yet she hadn't thought of anything else that could.

So she'd moved back to Indiana, back to the place her parents had taken she and Jane when they were toddlers, to remove their family away from bad influences in Southern California. She agreed to manage her father's estate and found if more fulfilling that filmmaking.

Oddly enough.

She wished that she was like Jane, who had known since she was a girl that she wanted to be a teacher. She loved her job and there had never been this damnable questioning for her. Jane was lucky that she was so good at her core, because there was a decent chance that if things had been otherwise, Elizabeth would have poisoned her in a jealous fit years ago.

Even Lydia had thus far exhibited more direction than her, having completed her first semester of cosmetology school in the top third of her class.

“Do what you think is best, Lizzy.”

“It's not that easy. You're going to have to do commentary.”

“Can't we just send your mother? God knows she'd have enough to say to fill the hour and a half.”

“No.”

”Why not? She'd be a lot more entertaining than me.”

“No.”

“Oh, come on.”

“No way. I can hear her now. `Our number is 555-2212, I have five single daughters and if you are rich or handsome you should call straight away.'”

“I don't see how you are taking away from my point.”

“Har-Har, Dad.”

Ralph chuckled, “Okay, so let's suppose that I do lay down commentary.”

“Then we slog through all the old reels and assorted crap that you have stored out in the barn, pray it isn't all disintegrated, and put together bonus footage.”

“Why do we have to go to all this trouble?”

“Why bother putting it out if you aren't going to put anything in there to make people buy it?”

“They'll buy it.” Time and conventions had taught him that his fan base was predisposed to completists and obsessives. Even if they owned each movie individually, they would buy the boxed set simply because it exsisted.

“Some of them will.” She allowed. “But I don't want to hear them bitching about it on the internet later.”

“Well, you know that stuff doesn't bother me. I never read a word of it.”

“Liar.” Her father spent time each day patrolling the forums on his website, entertained by the fans that got into profane, passionate, sprawling, arguments over the minutiae of his catalog. Sometimes he would register names and provoke fights, for his personal amusement.

“Think about how angry they'll be. This has the potential for a windfall of multiple pages long, misspelled, rambling!”

“Dad.”

“Give me some time to think about this, Lizzy. I don't have time for anything other than Bingley and this shoot for the time being.”

“Fair enough.”

“If we're going to do this right, we really should let your mother be involved.”

“You aren't funny.”

“I wasn't trying to be. She was as much a part of this as I was.” He patted her on the shoulder, “I won't let her embarrass you.”

“We'll see.” She doubted it.

**

“Lizzy?” Elizabeth tried to calm her shaking. The phone had wrested her from a dead sleep. Light played at the blinds and she looked at the clock. Five a.m.

“Five a.m….My God, who calls this early? Who is this?”

“Lizzy?” It was Jane, “I'm sorry to wake you up, but it's important, you know I wouldn't call you otherwise.”

“Sorry, Jane.” Elizabeth bolted out of bed, “What's wrong? Is it Mom and Dad?”

“No, no. It's got nothing to do with them.”

“Was it Lydia or Kitty? What have they done now?”

“No, it's not about that. It's the movie.”

“The one Dad's working on?”

“Yes. There was an accident…”

“Is Dad okay, Jane? What's going on?”

“Lizzy, you're going to have to let me talk. Dad's fine, everyone is okay.”

“Sorry.”

“Some of the PAs went out last night and got into an accident on the way home. They got banged up pretty bad, nothing permanent, but they aren't allowed back on set for at least a week.”

“That's a shame. Glad no one was seriously hurt.” Elizabeth allowed herself to relax, “Did Dad tell you or something?”

“No, Charles did.”

“When?”

There was a pause, “This morning.”

“You talked to him this morning?”

“Yes.”

“Why did you….Jane! You slut! How long have you been sleeping with Bingley?”

“Lizzy, I don't think that's any..”

“Oh, come on, just tell me.”

“Two days.”

“I can't believe my sister, my sweet, good, moral, respectable, sister is sleeping with a man she's known for three weeks!” Elizabeth giggled, “I can't believe they are still letting you around the children at school!”

“Oh, Lizzy, you make it sound so tawdry.”

“No, no, Jane! I'm sorry, I couldn't help myself. You know I could never really think that of you.”

“I know it sounds crazy, but I think I'm in love with him.”

“What?”

“Lizzy, he's the most amazing man I've ever met. He's kind, smart, agreeable, funny…just everything. We get along so well, have so much to say to one another…”

“Isn't he pretty busy with the shoot?” Elizabeth knew that Jane was too smart to fall for glitz and pretty words, but she never knew.

“Yes, but he's been making time. We both have.

“Do you think he feels the same way about you?”

“I don't know, Lizzy. I know he likes me, but I don't know if it's a just for now thing with him. I can't imagine that it isn't.”

“And you're comfortable with that?”

“As comfortable as I'm going to get. But, this isn't about Charles. Well, it isn't directly about Charles. Like I said there was an accident, and some people were injured, and basically, they need a couple of subs until they come back. I can't take the time off of work, and no one has the time to do more interviews or hiring, so he was wondering if you'd be interested. I volunteered you, actually. You would at least have a clue as to what you're doing.”

“Do you know what kind of work it is?”

“Production Assistant.”

“Yes, Jane, I got that. You're going to have to be a little more specific.”

“How?”

“Would I be doing transpo? Babysitting the set? On walkies?”

“I don't know. I've got Charles' number, why don't you give him a call?”

“Am I agreeing to this?”

“I don't know. You don't have to, but I'm sure Charles would appreciate it, and I would, too.”

“Give me the number.”

**

“Elizabeth!” Charles smiled and motioned to the insurance man that he would be a minute, “Exactly the person I was hoping to hear from. Did Jane tell you what's going on?”

“Yes. What do you need?”

“We really need a set of hands in here, Terry was my main transpo, and I need someone to drive. Bad.”

“What about the Teamsters?”

Charles laughed, “The Teamsters don't do anything that isn't outlined specifically in their contract. They don't fetch things. In fact, so far as I can tell, they haul out some lights, and then sit on their asses until we wrap for the day. You never heard me say that.”

“So you want me to come in and work transpo? I remember transpo, you know, Charles. First on set, last to leave.”

“I know, and I would never dump something like this on you normally, but you're familiar with a set, know the area, and come with great recommendations.”

“I don't know if you knew about this, but Jane is a compulsive liar. I'm actually really lazy and irritable.”

“That's fine so long as you're able to operate a motor vehicle.”

“Today?”

“Yeah. If you could drive up to Netherfield and pick up the talent and get them here ASAP.”

“Goody. I'm leaving in five minutes.”

“Thank you so much, Elizabeth.”

“No prob, Bingley.”

**

Elizabeth entered the foyer of the grand house. She didn't bother to knock, as Charles had established his home as a headquarters of sorts. There were to many people coming in and out to bother with formalities. She had been told to meet the talent in the west parlor, third door on the left.

They were waiting for her, Caroline, Darcy, and two others that she didn't recongnize.

“Where's Terry?” Caroline demanded, “What are you doing here?” Her shock at seeing Elizabeth was too much to mask. It was obvious that the lady was not happy to see her.

“I don't know the particulars, but there was an accident last night and Terry was hurt. I'm subbing for him until he gets back.”

“Oh, poor Terry!” She looked at Darcy with a wobbly mouth and glassy eyes, “Is he…going to be okay?”

“I think so. Like I said, I don't know the details, but I didn't get the impression that it was terribly serious.”

“I'm going to call Linda and have her send him a gift at the hospital.” Caroline settled herself on the couch, “This is just awful, isn't it, Darcy?” She fluttered her hands in front of her chest, “What a sacrifice. I know that Charles will take care of him, but I can't help feeling so…just so badly.”

Elizabeth noticed that all this seemed to be said for Darcy's sake. She wondered why Caroline bothered making a benevolent show over a lowly PA. It's not like Darcy would care enough to be impressed.

He didn't seem to. He gave Caroline an imperceptible shake of the head and slapped his hands on his thighs. He did not give the appearance of being troubled.

“You guys ready to go?” Twenty more minutes until she was rid of them.

“Yes. You were late, so we're already behind as it is.” Caroline swept out of the room hurriedly, noticing that her play at compassion had failed to improve her in the esteem of the others.

“I got the call about 15 minutes ago, Caroline. I'm sorry that you're late, but I got over here as quickly as I could.” As if she couldn't get her bony ass behind the wheel and drive herself.

“Whatever. It doesn't matter. Let's not waste any more time.”

The group loaded into the van and buckled in.

“Have you met the others, Elizabeth?” Darcy asked from the passenger seat.

She had hoped that he'd sit in the very back and think horrible things about her, silently. To have to deal with him up close was intolerable.

“No.”

There was a woman and a man, both about the same age, by her guess in their early forties. She did not recognize either of them.

He gestured to the man, “This is Lawrence Hurst, and his wife, Louisa. They're both in the film.”

“Nice to meet you.” She called towards the back of the vehicle.

Louisa gave her a tight lipped smile while Lawrence grunted and nodded his head, reaching his hand into his jacket pocket for a flask. He tipped it back and took a hearty drink.

“How is your sister doing, Elizabeth? I've had the pleasure of seeing her only a couple of times since the party. She is such a sweet girl. I never expected to meet someone with such a delightful air and style in a place like this.” Caroline thrust herself between the driver and passenger's seat, wrapping her hand around Darcy's arm.

“I know, with all the cousin-marrying and hard living it's a wonder that you can find anyone who is sophisticated enough to get along with the big city folks.”

“All I meant was that she has an unusually charming way about her. I meant no offense.”

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to imply that I was offended. I was merely agreeing with you.”

Caroline did not have anything to say back.

“How are you feeling today, Darcy? Sore?”

“I could be better, but I don't feel as badly as I expected.”

“Darcy spent seven hours running yesterday, Elizabeth.” She cast him an admiring glance, “And didn't complain not once. I have never seen someone more professional in all my life. Charles and I were simply bursting with pride.” She leaned over the console and patted Darcy on the arm, “If that had been me, I…I..just couldn't have done it. I don't think that any other actor in this world could have.”

“With proper training you could.” Elizabeth said, keeping her eyes on the road for if she looked at either of them laughter would certainly follow.

“I doubt it!”

“People run marathons all the time. Not to discredit you, Darcy, but I don't think it's some superhuman feat.”

“And I suppose that you run marathons, then?” Caroline crossed her arms against her chest, “That you do that sort of thing all the time?”

“Not at all.” Elizabeth snapped her mouth shut.

The five of them rode twenty minutes to the location in silence, each to varying degrees of discomfort.

Louisa could not disengage her mind from the thought that this would be the last film of her career. She always thought that her current project would be her last, working herself into such a state that she broke out in hives every evening. She tried to quell the ball of nervous exhaustion in her stomach, and told herself that her arm did not itch.

Lawrence took another covert swig from his flask, unaware that the action was covert to no one but the most unobservant. His mind was engaged in thought no deeper than imagining when this would be over and whether he would go to Reno or Vegas after the wrap. He hoped that his wife would not wish to accompany him.

Caroline stole quick glances at Darcy, who in turn was stealing quick glances at Elizabeth. She was motivated to break the silence, but decided against it, lest Elizabeth do or say something to cause him to become more infatuated by her. She scowled as she thought of how degrading it was to have to have to compete with her. Some artless, small town, hick that thought she was smarter than everyone in the room. Securing Darcy was more important to her than even her dignity, and she was committed to seeing it through to the bitter end.

Darcy looked at her from the corner of his eye. Again. She said nothing, didn't even look at him, and he smiled to himself. He turned his head and let his gaze linger. She knew he was looking at her. And she was letting him. He waited for her to speak, but she did not. He continued to stare. He liked her, he decided. He liked her just fine.

Elizabeth shifted under his gaze. Did he find fault with her driving? Was he disgusted with her tardiness? She didn't look back at him, not wanting to piss off the star and make trouble for Charles. Let him pick her apart. She was only here for a week and she hoped that Fitzwilliam Darcy would become so repulsed by her that he would never lower himself so much as to look at her ever again.

Once they had arrived, a general feeling of relief was shared by all.

CHAPTER FOUR

“Eliza, could you be a darling and head back to the house and pick up my cell? I'm simply lost without it.” Caroline asked.

Elizabeth hauled a 300 foot extension cord into the back of the van. “Howard needs this for the sub-unit over on Thomas Road. Can it wait until I get back?”

Caroline's smile, which had begun genuinely enough, as she was not stupid enough to be vicious to someone that she needed something from, twisted and turned cold. “Did you not hear me say that I would be quite lost without it? I don't care what Howard needs. People aren't going to go and see this movie because Howard was the 2nd Assistant Director.”

It took mighty effort on Elizabeth's part to not lob back with a, “Well, people aren't going to see it because of you, so go get your own damn cell phone.”. Instead she mumbled, “Let me load the van and I'll go back and get it.” She balled her hands on her sides and bit her lip. Caroline Bingley was a Grade A, First Class, bitch.

“I'm afraid that isn't good enough. I need it now. I'm expecting an important call from Linda about a part.”

“If you needed it so badly, then why didn't you remember it?”

Caroline laughed, “Oh, that's almost sweet. Listen, Elizabeth. There's a reason I'm called the talent and you're called the crew. I know that you've never been on a real film set before, but there's a hierarchy, a protocol. Namely, that when I need something, I ask a gopher, a PA, someone in your position and they get it for me. When I need it. And I'm sorry to tell you, Elizabeth, but I need that phone right now.”

Elizabeth set down the cord and tried to not look upset.

She wasn't successful and the pleasure that Caroline felt at being able to control her was immense. She had to do what she told her.

“I believe I said right now, Miss Bennett.”

Elizabeth made a strangled sound in the back of her throat and tried to control her shaking hands. “Hey, Tony!” she called to her partner. “We're gonna have to hold off on this, Miss Bingley needs her cell phone. She left it back at Netherfield.”

“What? Howard needed this cord half an hour ago.”

“Miss Bingley requested that I retrieve it immediately.”

“Oh, she did, did she?” Tony got on his walkie, “Julie, are you there? Over.”

A garbled female voice called back, “What you need, Tony? Over.” Julie Seymour was the 1st A.D. and ran a tight, smooth, ship. It was her job to do Charles' job, basically. While he managed the managers and dealt with the talent, she coordinated everything else during production.

“I've got a situation with Caroline Bingley. She ordered the PA to get her cell phone from Netherfield meanwhile she's supposed to get Howard an extension cord over at Thomas Road. What should I do? Over.”

“You tell Caroline Bingely that I don't care if she's the director's sister, SHE IS NOT THE STAR OF THE SHOW. She can't hold up production because she can't remember her crap. You tell her that when it's her name over the marquee she can get her cell phone whenever she wants by whomever she wants. As it stands, she's going to have to wait until someone has a free minute. This is ridiculous. Tell that PA to get the cord to Howard STAT. If Miss Bingley has a problem with that, she can take it up with me. I'm not going to bother Charles over such a piddling, little, nothing. Over.”

Tony didn't bother to hide his laughter at Caroline's red face. Julie obviously hadn't thought Caroline was close enough to hear what she said over the walkies. “You heard her, Lizzy. Get over to Thomas Road.”

Elizabeth smiled sweetly at him and spared not a look and said not a word as she brushed past a still embarrassed Caroline Bingley.

**

She pulled the van into the makeshift parking lot and hopped out, rounding to the back to retrieve the extension cord. She wasn't sure of who Howard was, so she decided to adhere to a lesson she had learned in film school. Talk to the guy on the walkie. He at least had a rough estimate of what was going on. She passed a napping Lawrence Hurst, curled into his set chair, drooling on his own shoulder.

She spotted a walkie attached to a tall man not too far in front of her. “Excuse me?”

Elizabeth couldn't hold her surprise. He had to have been the most handsome man she'd ever seen in the flesh.

“Can I help you?” He smiled and time stopped. All that existed was sparking white and eyes that crinkled kindly.

“I'm supposed to give this to Howard?” She held out the cord.

“Ah, follow me.” He led her towards a farmhouse just up the gravel road of the property. He smiled again and took the cord from her.

“That's okay, I can get it.”

“No, allow me. It's no problem.”

She lingered on the spot for a beat, feeling awkward and girlish. “Well…” she trailed off and kicked her toe in the dirt, “I guess I should get back…”

“Oh, I'm sorry, you misunderstood.”

“Pardon?”

“You have to walk with me to the house and keep me company, and then you must let me walk you back to the van. That's the agreement.”

“My apologies. I wasn't aware that I had made any agreement.”

“It's right there in the contract, you can check. Clause four clearly states that if an attractive woman delivers and extension cord and an electrician takes it from her, she is obligated to dawdle and flirt with the electrician.”

“I'm subbing, so I never signed the contract.”

“Doesn't matter. But, no need to worry, I won't breathe a word to the Union.” They reached the house, where he handed the cord off to another man. “Hello, I'm George Wickham.”

He offered his hand and Elizabeth shook. “And I'm Elizabeth Bennett.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.”

“Where did you appear from, Elizabeth Bennett? I'm sure I would have noticed you by now.”

She was flush with pleasure. She had the most exciting nervous gurgling in her stomach, and the tips of her fingers tingled and prickled. There was a gorgeous man, with the kindest smile she had ever seen, and he was quite openly flirting with her. “Like I said, I'm subbing. For Terry.”

“Yes, I'd heard about the accident. I take it you've been doing a lot of driving?”

“Yes.”

George grimaced, “Been spending a lot of time with the talent?”

She laughed, “Only as much as I absolutely have to.”

“I see that your feelings towards them are similar to mine.”

“To be honest, I have never met a group of bigger snobs in my life. Half of them won't even bother talking to the local crew and the other half only does because they need something.”

“I hate to break it to you, but they don't talk to the LA crew for much more than that, either.”

“Somehow that doesn't surprise me.”

“I assume you've met Mr. Darcy?”

“Yes. He thinks rather well of himself.”

“He wasn't always like that. I knew him growing up. My father worked for his father. It was after his dad passed that he became so cold. It was very hard for him.”

“I can imagine.” Elizabeth felt a small degree of sympathy for Darcy, but was unswayed in her opinion.

“Anyways, I'm going to shut up about that because we've only just met, and I don't think you need me to dump my life story on you right away.”

“I never turn up my nose at dirt on celebrities.”

“Then you and I shall get along famously.” They reached the van and he pulled the door open for her. “We should continue our conversation soon.”

“Absolutely.” Hallelujah. He was going to ask her out. She knew it.

“I like you, Elizabeth Bennett. You and I are going to be friends, I can tell. I think that you and I should meet up after we wrap for the day and go to Denny's and get some coffee.”

“I'm more of a Waffle House girl, myself. Plus the Denny's is two towns over.”

“Okay.”

“You know I won't be out of here until the very, very, very, end, right?”

“Yes.”

“What's call time tomorrow?”

“You don't know?”

“I haven't gotten anything from Howard or Julie yet. They put me to work straight away.”

“I'm supposed to be here at noon which would put you in at about 11.”

“Alright.”

“What? So I'm not worth losing a little sleep over?”

“No. But now I don't have to drink decaf.”

“Where do you think you'll be?”

“No clue.” She climbed into the van. “You've got a walkie, figure it out.”

“You're going to make me work for it, huh?”

“A little, maybe. What? Am I not worth the effort?”

“Oh, not… it's not that at all. I'll see you later, Elizabeth.”

“Goodbye, George.”

**

Elizabeth turned the page of her book. She was waiting for Caroline and Darcy to decide that they were ready to come out of their respective trailers. She was truly puzzled as to their behavior. Neither of them were especially bankable or famous. Darcy was the more successful of the two, but he was far from a name. She supposed they were taking advantage of Charles, knowing that he would put up with even the most puerile of antics.

It was like he knew she had a date tonight. Like his disapproval was so great that it had attuned to her wants and needs and unconsciously caused him to do everything in his power to stop it. Or maybe not so unconsciously. That would be dependent upon him caring enough to listen to the crew talk. She dismissed the notion. George was on the sub unit, he hadn't come into contact with Darcy all day. Maybe not even the entire shoot thus far. That would explain why George hadn't gone screaming in the opposite direction when he found out who the star was going to be.

She continued reading. It was pretty good. She'd read better, but it was good enough to engross her to the degree of not hearing Darcy approaching her.

“I apologize. I had some urgent business that couldn't be delayed.”

She jumped and the book flew out of her hands. He bent over and handed it back to her.

“I read that last year. Very good. Are you enjoying it?”

“It's okay enough, I suppose. I've read a lot of others in the same vein that I liked better.”

“I thought that the author did a really good job of giving it depth. I enjoyed how it worked on two different levels, without getting too wrapped up in metaphors.”

“Yes, but it's a rich category for metaphor. I think I'm going to have to stick to my opinion.”

“Darcy!” Caroline came streaming out of her trailer, “Are you ready to leave?”

“Yes.” He shot a glance to Elizabeth, “I thought you were going back earlier with the others.”

“I'd heard you had a spot of trouble.” She looked at him meaningfully and set her gaze on Elizabeth. “Never mind I said that. I was worried about you, so I waited.”

“Thank you.” He fidgeted and hurried to the van in an agitated manner.

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. You'd think she'd been the one making him wait.

Darcy hadn't necessarily wanted to keep Elizabeth waiting for him, but he would freely admit that he had been looking forward to riding back to Netherfield with her, alone. He pulled the passenger's door shut with a bit too much force, setting both ladies on edge and causing them to both utter not a word the entire ride back.

CHAPTER FOUR, PART B

“So what happened after that?” She stirred sugar into her coffee and smiled.

“I met my friend Ray and he got me in with the union and now I'm here, for a while, at least.”

“Do you like it?”

“It's a living.” He shrugged and his face soured for a moment, quickly squelched.

“What?”

“It's not important.”

“You look like you have something on you mind.”

“Really, you don't want to hear my sob stories.”

“I've always felt that there was a difference between people whining and crying and then people whining and crying, but being entertaining about it. From what I've gathered you're more than capable of the latter. Spill.” He was funny, good looking, kind, he liked animals and children, he didn't think a good time consisted of getting wasted and hooking up at bars, he had good taste in music, films, books, he….he was perfect.

“I told you that I knew Fitzwilliam Darcy growing up, didn't I?”

“Yes.”

“Okay…so… my father was the caretaker of the Darcy family estate, Pemberley. Old Mr. Darcy was an excellent man and he doted on me when I was a child, and I was friends with his son, Fitzwilliam, like I said. He has a much younger sister, as well. Georgiana.”

“What is she like? As bad as him?”

“After their parents died, she and Fitzwilliam became very close. He has a lot of influence over her. She began to deteriorate after. She had been a sweet, unassuming thing, and now she's a bit of a brat, really.”

“How old is she?”

“She'll be eighteen in the fall.”

“Then some of it can be accounted to age. Perhaps once she is away from her brother, she'll improve.”

“Let's hope.” He motioned to the waitress for a refill. She eagerly hopped over, positively aglow. “I guess, it's just that…in a lot of ways…I feel like I've been forced into this grip thing. The whole time I was apprenticing, I told myself that this was just to make money, and that I could pursue my own projects later, once I made journeyman. I could save up, take time off…but it never worked out that way. And…I…I think that there are parts…where…maybe I'm not responsible for what happened to me.”

“Meaning?”

He blew out a long breath, “You can't repeat this to anyone else on set, I don't want to start trouble, and Darcy's got me in checkmate, pretty much, since he could have me fired quite easily, if I make even the smallest infraction.”

“I would never betray your confidence.”

“My mother died when I was very young and my father when I was twelve. Afterwards, Mr. Darcy, Old Mr. Darcy, took me in. He later paid for me to attend private school in Andover with Fitzwilliam, he paid for my NYU film degree, and he helped me fund my first short, right out of school. He provided for me and I will always love him for it. We were very close, and I know that he thought of me as a son as much as I thought of him as a father. I used to think of Fitzwilliam as a brother until his own father died. We'd shared a love of film, from the time we were children. We used to make eight millimeter shorts all the time. Pemberely had pretty extensive grounds. It's one of the most beautiful places you can imagine.”

“Where is it?”

“In the Hamptons. A couple of houses down from Jerry Seinfeld, actually.”

“Really?” She took a sip from her cup, “Anyway, continuing…you made movies together as kids…”

“Yes. We both graduated from Tisch, and we were going to try and raise money for this script I wrote. Darcy was going to star. Then Mr. Darcy died and very soon after the will was read I was cut out of the family entirely.”

Elizabeth gasped in sympathy. His wound was palatable. She felt his sadness and disappointment clinch in her stomach. How dare Darcy cut out an old family friend? “If you don't mind my asking…why?”

“The official reason was that I had received my ten thousand that Mr. Darcy had allowed for me, and seeing as how my education was already paid for, and my father hadn't been in family employ for a good number of years, they decided to cut ties. The unofficial reason? Old Mr. Darcy had promised me a considerable sum of money as a seed for mine and Fitzwilliam's project. Fitzwilliam didn't want me to have it.”

“What? I've heard his family has quite a bit of money. What's a few thousand to him?”

He grinned ruefully, “Ah, but it wasn't about money. You see, Mr. Darcy loved me like a son, raised Fitzwilliam and I as brothers. And although he was not so bad back then, Darcy has a very resentful temper. We wound up competing for his father's affections more often than not. Fighting over his attention, his time. Darcy never forgave me for being there, taking away his Dad. Not that Mr. Darcy showed me any preferential treatment over Fitzwilliam, ever. Nor did he condescend to me or make me feel like a lesser person. I was always aware of who his biological son was, but not in a way that belittled me. There are not enough kind things that I can say about Mr. Darcy. Don't misunderstand what I'm saying. The sins of the son are certainly not the sins of the father.”

“So, once his father passed, he took out his anger and resentment on you?”

“Basically. I had no money, no prospects, nothing but a couple of film school connections and the ten grand from the will. I wound up paying rent and bills with it, instead of saving it to make a short. Then I fell in with the union, and now I'm a Grip.”

“Aw, not even a Best Boy.”

”Haven't put in enough years for that.” He grinned.

“I think you're the best boy.”

“Do you use a lot of puns?”

“Not terribly often.”

“Good. I thought I was going to have to say I was going to the bathroom and ditch you.”

“You wouldn't!”

“To you, I wouldn't. But I would be lying if I said it was something I hadn't done before.”

“That's so mean.”

“If you had been on dates with some of the women I've been out with, you'd be ditching them, too.” He reached across the table and grabbed her hand, “You see, I like a woman with something going on upstairs. And I like beautiful women…but if I'm going to be honest, beautiful wins out over smart some of the time…a lot of the time…and then I realize how stupid it was to call them, how much I don't like anything about them other than their faces, and I wind up cutting out. But let me tell you, when I meet someone who is beautiful and smart, I keep a hold on them for a long time.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. And I think you're beautiful. And smart.”

“Thank you.”

The date ended soon after, both parties being extremely tired, and, in Wickham's case, at least, more than a bit burnt out. The shoot was even halfway over and already he was spread thin.

He drove her home to her small apartment in town. A kiss was shared at her front door. The venture was agreeable to both, and enjoyed to an almost identical degree. No mention was made of when they might see each other again socially. Elizabeth wasn't worried about it. George was clearly as enamored of her as she was him. When she pulled away from him and closed her door for the night, she was suddenly struck with the notion that she was the luckiest girl on the face of the planet.

**

“Elizabeth!” Tony called out, rushing towards her. “We've got a change of plans. I need you to drive Darcy over to the sub unit.”

He shoved a thick, binded, script at her. “Darcy is on the sub for the next week, maybe less, depending on how fast we get this hammered out.”

Elizabeth's stomach sank. What about Wickham? It would be so uncomfortable for him, to have to see the man who'd made him so unhappy. “What kind of script change?” She said uselessly, as though she could change everyone's mind with the power of her questioning.

Tony, who had slowly been working himself into a snit since earlier the previous evening, gave her a pointed look, “See all the pink pages, cupcake? Those are new.” He turned her by the shoulders towards the van. “Chop, chop.”

She glanced at the script. It was three-fourths pink. She hoped Charles wasn't letting things get out of control.

“He's in the van waiting, Lizzy.” Tony said, giving her a gentle push towards the vehicle.

She nodded, and gathered her reserves. She had to be nice to him. She had to. She couldn't embarrass her father, Jane, or herself.

She climbed into the driver's seat and quickly clicked her seat belt on and backed out. She wanted to get there as quickly as possible.

“Good morning, Elizabeth.”

He was smiling at her. The weasel! What did he want? Why is he pretending like he doesn't hate me? “Good morning, Mr. Darcy.”

“Please, call me William.”

“Whatever.” How charming he thinks he is! Elizabeth bit her tongue. He's got them all snowed. Charles, Caroline, the producers, all thinking that he is some great man, some bastion of goodness and correctness. If they only knew how cruelly he had discarded of Wickham. Caroline would continue to pathetically simper after him, of that she had no doubt. She had faith enough in Bingley's decency to hopefully assume that he would not continue his friendship with the man, in the face of such facts. That would hurt Darcy, she thought, To lose a close friend because of your own cruelty. She remembered her promise to Wickham and squashed the idea.

“How did you like you're first day on set?” He leaned back in his seat and attempted to appear casual. If the lady had been paying more attention, she would have noticed that he was failing on all fronts. Fitzwilliam Darcy had one major weakness as an actor. He was crap at playing himself. Always had been, even as a small child. It was what had propelled him towards the profession in the first place. If you spent large parts of your week pretending to be someone else, it made dealing with the times you were required to be yourself a lot less stressful. A smart man could extend that even further, cordoning off portions of himself. He could be Fitzwilliam the Actor for a good part of his day, if he so wished. It fit in nicely with Fitzwilliam the Blueblood and Fitzwilliam the Caretaker. Not that he minded the latter, he was quite proud and content with that role. The nice part was when you added up all the parts you could play in one day, it made the time when he had to be Fitzwilliam the Darcy rather small indeed.

It wasn't as though the roles he maintained in his life weren't him. They were. More often than not, however, they were parts of himself that he consciously tapped. The problem of Elizabeth was such that he had a feeling he couldn't do that with her. Those stupid eyes that held no expectation at all, that gave him no way of knowing what part of him she wanted. It left him floundering with Fitzwilliam the Darcy, who was, in the interest of honesty, not at all charming or very much fun until you got to know him to some degree. If she would just say something. Give him something to work with!

“It was fine.”

That wasn't going to help. As the silence grew, Darcy found himself equal parts nervous, elated, and pissed off.

The spike in tension did not go unnoticed by Elizabeth. For her part, she was caught between saying something or remaining quiet. Either one was liable to get her in trouble. But something had to be done to break his mood, before he started blaming her for it.

Just say something. Stop overthinking. Say anything. It doesn't matter. Start with small talk. The weather, a book. Please. His mouth remained shut. I can't talk about the weather for God's sake. Books are too self conscious. She'll think I'm a pretentious asshole. Oh, God. Wait! The film! I can talk about the…

“So what do you think so far? Of the film?” She peeked over at him, his mouth still twisted in a grimace. Oh no. Maybe she shouldn't have said anything.

He suddenly turned and looked at her…

Until this point, gentle readers, I have refrained from going on for too long on the subject of emotion. It is a too vast and varying thing to describe properly. I daresay that I could not do it justice, however, there are things that need to be said regarding the fickle, elusive thing.

Neither Elizabeth nor Darcy mistook the emotion that occurred when their eyes met. I was not love at first sight, it not carnal lust, it was not romantic. No symphony swelled in the background, there was no moment.

It was simple.

When they looked at each other, really looked, they both thought:

I know you. You are just like me.

Darcy had never felt such a thing and was energized, encouraged. Absolutely abuzz.

Elizabeth was in a numb sort of shock, and being the better socialized of the two, not all together unfamiliar with what had occurred. She had one clear memory of such a thing happening to her before.

When she'd met Charlotte Lucas when she was thirteen. That feeling had turned out to be correct. You can't be right all the time. she reassured herself, and her throat contracted, dry.

Darcy rubbed itchy, sweaty palms on his thighs and commanded his heart to stop palpitating. What was wrong with him? What was he thinking? The force of his emotions startled him. This could not be allowed to continue. His family would disapprove on all levels, not to mention the fact that he had his own reserves. He imagined industry dinners, with her mother squawking about how Colin Farrel was back on drugs and that there was no way that Tom and Katie were actually going to get married. And her father, who was not completely intolerable, but who would bring up his own career at any opportunity, mocking himself and every other thing he could think of, including his guests, he was sure. He could never allow Georgiana around her sisters, even though he had suspicion that she would probably be a good influence on them, rather than the reverse.

Plus, he knew little of her, though he parts that he did know attracted him more than he liked. For all her presumed artlessness, she could be a gold digger, or worse. He didn't know her, regardless of what the chemicals and hormones coursing through his veins were saying.

At that exact moment, Darcy began to feel the danger of paying Elizabeth Bennet too much attention.

**

Elizabeth settled in for week two on set. Terry's recovery was taking longer than anticipated, though Charles assured her that it would be any day now. She had been out with Wickham three times since then, though their relations had assumed a casual mien. She wasn't unsatisfied, exactly. Perhaps a bit frustrated. The more she saw of him the more she liked. She had begun this venture with confidence enough, but she was beginning to become wracked with insecurity. Did he like her? What did he think of her? Did he want to continue seeing her after she was done with her time here?.

He'd been moved after Darcy had,avoiding certain disaster and not a small amount of pain. He was now on sub secondary detail, working as a floater wherever needed.

Unless it was anywhere near Darcy. From what she could tell, he was still unaware that Wickham was even here.

“Lizzy!” A chill ran down her spine. That could be no one but Frannie. She turned to see her mother scooting towards her, waving her hands in the air. The older woman approached Tony, who was standing a few feet away from her, and latched onto him. “Aren't you lucky to be working with such a handsome man!” She winked at him. “I used to like a crew member or two in my younger days.” She whispered loudly for Elizabeth, “That was before I met your father.”

Tony blushed at the compliment. “So, this is your mom, Lizzy?”

“Indeed. Did you get to meet my father yet?” She'd hoped he had, at least then he would know that the whole family wasn't insane.

“Yeah. Funny guy.” He turned to Frannie. “Hi, I'm Tony. Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.” Her mother giggled. “I don't see a ring, Tony. That means that you must tell me what you think of my Elizabeth.”

At this Tony flushed deeply and sputtered, “I'm not married, but…and I think Lizzy is a really great girl..but…I have a girlfriend…” He smiled apologetically, “No offense, kid.”

“None taken.” Utterly mortified, Elizabeth guided her mother away from Tony and over to a secluded clearing free of people.

“What are you doing here, Mom?”

“I came to see your father! And anyways, Charles Bingley said I could visit the set whenever I wanted!”

“Why today, though? Why couldn't you have waited until I was done working here?!” It came out harsher than she intended. “…I mean…it's just such a distraction.” Frannie's social transgression were much easier to bear when she didn't have to witness them.

“You sound like your father.” She gave her daughter a dismissive wave. “Actually, you're part of the reason I'm here. If certain girls would call their mother's back, then we wouldn't have to visit her at work.”

“I've been really busy, Mom. It's a pretty long day.”

“I've heard that excuse a million times. It's no bother, anyway, because I'm here now.” She smoothed the collar of Elizabeth's shirt. “You've been holding out on me. A little birdie told me that you've been seeing someone from the set for a couple of weeks now.”

Elizabeth turned bright red. “I am NOT!” She lied, “Who told you that?”

“I'm not telling you until you tell me.”

“I'm busy, Mom. If the only reason you came down here was to harass me about my love life, then please, go home. I have neither the time nor the inclination to do this while I'm at work.”

“Lighten up, Lizzycakes!” Frannie trilled as she headed for her father, who was speaking with Bingley just ahead. “You think about what I said. I'll tell you if you tell me. You may was well take me up on it. I'm going to find out one way or another. Today.”

Elizabeth sighed. “Lunch is in an hour. Meet me at craft services.”

“Excellent!” Frannie waved good bye and joined her husband.

**

Precisely one hour later she was accosted by Frannie, who was lurking behind a dolly, waiting for her.

“You go first.” She linked her arm through her daughters and beamed at all the passersby on their way to the food tent, quite satisfied with playing the Grand Old Dame of Longbourn.

“Yes, I'm seeing someone.” Elizabeth finally stated, as the joined the buffet line. “His name is George Wickham, he's a Grip, we just met, it's nothing serous, and please, please, please don't embarrass me.”

“Lizzy, I would never!” She scanned the tent, “Where is he? Doesn't he eat lunch with you?”

“He's on the sub unit, Mom. They've got their own set up.”

“When can I meet him?”

Elizabeth choked on her own spittle. “Not for awhile, Mom. I…” She searched for a proper excuse. “I don't…want…topush him away!” She cried, “You know how men are, you introduce them to your mother, they think you want get married and quit calling….I don't want to ruin anything.”

“Of course not, darling. Just like that Renee Zellweger and that George Clooney, awhile back. I heard that was why they split up.”

Her mother's disappointment was visible, but Elizabeth knew she wouldn't argue with her logic. She also decided to not waste time wondering what murky source had provided her mother with that particular “celebrefact”, as Frannie was fond of calling them.

“So, tell me about him.” Frannie urged.

“There's not much to say. He's handsome, funny, smart. All good things. I like him a lot.”

“And a Grip, you say? That's not a terrible living.”

“Hadn't really thought about that, Mom., considering we've known each other just over a week.”

“Oh, between you and Jane!” Frannie pointed a dramatic eye pop in Bingley's direction, “This movie has been so good for my girls!”

“I wouldn't go sending out the invitations just yet.”

“Why not?” Frannie voice creeped up a few notches, “Jane and Bingley have been spending loads of time together and from what I've heard they've been intimate!” She punctuated the last word loudly, garnering her snickers and catcalls from the surrounding crew.

“MOM!” Elizabeth motioned for her mother to shut it. “Oh. My. God. MOM! I can't believe you just said that in front of everyone.” she whispered, so as not to draw even more attention to their table.

“They don't know who I'm talking about.” Frannie was all innocence.

The interested stares and buzz of whispers led Elizabeth to believe otherwise. “Mom. Go home. Please.”

“I will not!” Frannie slammed her hand on the table. “You can't order me around, Lizzy.”

“Fine.” Her face still burning, she directed her father over to join them. She made her excuses as soon as she had stuffed her face with enough to kill the hunger pangs. She then found an abandoned spot, not too far off from the set, where she allowed herself to wallow in humiliation for the rest of the break.

**

The instant Elizabeth happened upon one of her worst nightmares, she had been somewhat distracted, after having talked to Wickham, and had made the mistake of forgetting events earlier in the day. So instead of being vigilant and hoping to preempt this very scene, she was fuzzy headed and flush with pleasure. And subsequently, completely unprepared for what was now before her.

“You know Diane then, from your time on The World Turns Every Day of Our Lives, Passionately?” Her mother queried Caroline Bingley.

Who was standing next to Fitzwilliam Darcy, as unreadable as ever.

Caroline smiled snottily, “Diane who?”

“Diane Westerberg? She plays Jessibella Von Bertram? The matriarch of the show?”

“Oh, Diane. She's on the show so rarely, I hardly know her at all.”

“She's been a contract actress for them for almost twenty five years! And she is a good friend of mine. We met on set years ago.”

“How nice.” Caroline made her disinterest perfectly clear.

“I used to run with a lot of World Turns people, back in my day. I was even on there once, for a three episode stint.”

“Wonderful.” Caroline began to giggle and was giving Darcy pointed looks over Frannie's head.

Darcy, who may have found a small degree of amusement in Caroline's antics, found no humor once he saw Elizabeth standing off to the side, looking sickened and angry.

Caroline's comments had aroused Elizabeth's protective side. It was one thing when she made fun of her mother, but to have that snotty, cold, phony, wench openly mocking Frannie was insupportable.

“Are you ready to head back, guys?” She asked, wishing that it was a long day so that this would have never happened, as her mother would have certainly gone home by then.

“Oh, yes.” Caroline's laughter followed from mother to daughter. She looked at Elizabeth with calculated amusement.

Darcy, for his part, was horrified by Frannie, but was perhaps more so by Caroline. He was just as guilty of making fun of the locals as she was, but he'd at least done it when they were out of earshot, much less standing right in front of him. He felt a pang of sympathy for Elizabeth, who was bearing the humiliation rather well. “Elizabeth?” he turned to her, “Why don't you go on home with your mother? Caroline and I can ride back with Charles, he should be along shortly.” He would at least spare her the indignity of having to drive a smirking Caroline back to Netherfield. After that, he concluded, he would ignore her, as he had promised himself earlier.

Elizabeth felt a little stunned and maybe a little bit hurt by the suggestion. Even though he had made it abundantly clear before, here it was again, just in case she was stupid. I can't stand you and now that I've had a sit down with your mother, I can't stand you even more. “Fine.” She willed the color from her face and met first Caroline's eyes and then Darcy's. She would leave with dignity. Somebody had to.

Darcy marveled at her composure and reminded himself that he had just started ignoring her.

Terry had better heal up, but quick. Elizabeth slipped a protective arm around her mother, who had no idea as to what just transpired, and allowed Frannie to drive her home.

---