Liz looked at the address she had written down one more time.
100 Hazleton Lanes Penthouse
Sighing, she realized that this was the place. Spying through the windows at the perfect Christmas tree to the mirrored walkway, it certainly looked like somewhere Jane belonged. On the other hand, for Liz this perfect Manhattan lobby represented her worst nightmare - second only to airport customs lines and family dinners with all of her weirdo extended family members.
Grumbling to her-self about irritating rich snobs, Liz showed her invitation to the doorman and trudged her sludge covered boots across the pristine lobby.
As the elevator ascended to the top floor, Liz silently berated herself and tried to calm her nerves
Why did I agree to do this? I must have been drugged. That's the only reasonable answer. I knew that the dinner at Jane's apartment the other night tasted too good.
Liz knew the answer of course - for Jane she would do anything.
Liz rarely liked to dwell on the past or her childhood, but she couldn't help but smile when she thought of Jane, who was more than just a sister to her. The two girls had been each other's support system throughout the trials and tribulations of adolescence, then through college and moving to the Big Apple. Well guess this is just the price of sisterly affection.
Though Liz still couldn't help but feel some self-pity. She was after all sacrificing her Saturday night to schlep through the snow from Brooklyn to downtown, and attend what sounded like the most boring party in Manhattan - the annual Bingley Company Christmas Party.
Liz wasn't even sure what Bingley Co. did exactly, but such an omission didn't really matter since the CEO of Bingley Co. happened to be Jane's boyfriend. They had met this past fall at a charity event for the hospital where Jane was completing her residency in clinical psychology. And at least from Jane's retelling, all it took was one look and she knew he was the one. Liz required all her will power not to roll her eyes into the back of her head, when she first heard Jane's story. But alas, since that fateful September night, Jane and Bingley, or Jingley has she had dubbed them, were still going strong. And so now it was time for Liz to meet him and bestow upon him her 'hard-to-win' approval.
Liz was startled out of her musings when a soft chime announced their arrival and the elevator doors glided open, exposing an opulent penthouse level, which was currently hosting an even more opulent holiday party. Giant pine arrangements tinged with silver and gold were tastefully placed across the entry, making Liz want to turn around and return to her apartment with its tacky Christmas decorations. But, after one last of sigh of desperation, Liz steeled herself, and strode into the waiting area and searched for Jane.
As the other guests checked their furs and stared at her as if she was some sort of exotic zoo animal, Liz figured that she was at least for once following Maman's advice. After all Maman had always said if you are going to attend a party, might as well make an entrance. And Liz, in her large thick rimmed glasses, giant snow boots and massive plum colored parka - all of which were covered in snow, had certainly made an entrance among the sea of ball gowns and tuxes.
After what felt like eternity, Liz finally spotted Jane, luminescent in a shimmering cream gown, standing next to two tall glasses of water. One was undoubtedly Charlie, also known as Charles Bingley III according to the invitation.
He certainly looks like Jane's type, she thought to herself, as she mentally attempted to calculate their compatibility. Tall with reddish blond hair and a smile a mile-wide. Mr. Perfect to Jane's Miss. Perfect - what a pair.
The other man was a mystery. Tall and dark haired, a real-live brooding. Mr. Rochester in the flesh, Liz thought. Maybe tonight would be fun after all.
Liz quickly made her way over to Jane, who had finally spotted her in the crowd.
"There you are Lizzy," exclaimed Jane, "I wasn't sure you would make it in the snow."
"Voila! I survived." Liz responded dryly, though privately she couldn't help but wonder if the real test would be surviving the party.
"Liz, let me introduce you and then we can get you changed." Jane quickly did the rounds introducing her to Charlie and his friend, named Will. Charlie immediately won some bonus points for being as friendly as Jane described, inquiring about the weather and repeatedly exclaiming over how excited he was to finally meet her. Will, or Mr. R, as Liz had mentally dubbed him, seemed decidedly less excited, barely mumbling out a simple greeting of hello.
Liz was unsure if he was just shy or a jerk, but figured a final judgment could wait until after she underwent what was going to have to be the quickest makeover of all time.
"So any reason you decided at the last minute that you could make this party?" Jane inquired from the other side of the powder room, as she discretely passed Liz an exquisite aubergine gown. "Also what's with the hobo look?"
Liz did feel a little bad about wearing sweats to such a respectable establishment, but she had gotten caught up in work and hadn't realized the time. She explained as much to Jane who set about taming Liz's wild curls into something slightly more respectable. After a quick switch to her contacts and some light makeup, Liz was ready to mingle, or whatever it was people did at these god-awful parties.
Looking herself over in the full-length mirror, Liz decided she looked good. Not as gorgeous as angelic Jane, but more sultry like Elizabeth Taylor to Jane's Grace Kelly. Well, she wished anyways. She had her mother's Lebanese skin tone and slender bone structure, with her father's bright green-hazel eyes and French curls. Awkward and unsure of herself in high school (who isn't?), Liz in the last few years had started to come into her own. And as a single woman with a killer dress, she felt ready to take on the world; or at least this party.
"Nicely, done Janey. You know you really should have considered going into fashion." Liz offered.
Jane shrugged, "Can you really picture me with all those chichi Parisian designers? Non, marchi!"
Liz silently agreed, though mostly because of Jane's deplorable French accent.
As she checked her parka and boots, Liz considered the difference between American and French women. Personally, Liz cared very little for fashion trends, but any self-respecting French woman had some knowledge of good taste and how to dress for her body type. And Liz, though an adoptive New Yorker through and through, still sometimes preferred the French way of doing things - especially when it came to dressing. Looking over some of the outfits, Liz could not help but wonder what type of woman thought a bright orange dress that barely covered her décolletage and stopped somewhere around her vagina was appropriate. Go big or go home was certainly the American way, she inwardly remarked.
Entering the main ballroom, Liz had to admit she was increasingly impressed with Charlie. After all, this was his party, and instead of ostentatious it seemed most of the decor was elegant and understated - a rarity for these events. She scanned the dance floor for Jane with little success, and so decided to investigate the bar.
Liz was waiting at the bar for her glass of wine, hidden behind a large Christmas tree when she heard two voices that sounded familiar.
"Come on Darcy, are you really going to sit here all night?"
Oh, that must be Charlie. Liz was a little torn listening to him, as she hated eavesdropping but figured there was little she could do until she had her wine.
"Charles, can you really expect me to dance with anyone here? I mean the median age has to be at least 65."
Looking over the ballroom, Liz silently agreed with the mysterious Darcy. Tonight was certainly a geriatric type of evening.
"Well, there's a first time for everything, right?" Charlie jokingly replied.
Ugh, Liz thought as she rolled her eyes. He even makes bad jokes like Jane.
"Seriously though, I mean there's lots of beautiful women here tonight, you just need to put yourself out there Darce."
"You're here with the only beautiful woman." Darcy tartly replied.
Liz couldn't help but agree. Though, she felt this Darcy character was being a little harsh. Maybe, he just meant the ones wearing bright orange napkins.
"Well, what about her sister, Liz. Jane says she's amazing and I think you two could hit it off."
Liz froze. Oh god, why did they have to be talking about her?! She felt like she was a little girl again caught sneaking bonbons. Where was that damn waiter with her wine, she thought to herself impatiently.
"Her!" Will said indignantly, "You can't be serious Charles! I mean I know that I give a lot to charity but she would be a stretch even for me."
Liz didn't think it was possible to feel any worst about this night. Yet, clearly she had been wrong. After the initial shock and mortification wore off, she couldn't help but be furious. Who did this guy think he was?
Evidently, Darcy was Will who she had met earlier. In her mind, Mr. R would no longer stand for Mr. Rochester, but instead Mr. Rue-the-day-he-was-ever-born once she was done with him. Thinking of all the ways she could kick his butt, Liz stomped past the two men in search of Jane, completely forgetting her long-awaited glass of wine.
Little did Liz realize that stomping in high heels and a tight dress resulted in more of a Beyoncé-style strut, and quickly gained an audience, including Will Darcy.
After reluctantly taking his eyes off the sexy vision that just left the bar, Will turned to Charlie.
"Look, I'm sorry if I was harsh. I'm just still working things out." Will thought this was a bit of understatement considering the miserable last few months, but was hoping Charles would take a hint.
Charlie shrugged, "well your lost. But, let's go find Jane and I promise no more matchmaking - at least for tonight."
Liz was on the same mission as them but was quickly stopped when she happened upon one of her oldest friends, both figuratively and literally.
At the fine age of 81, Madame Charlotte was the epitome of elderly, fashionable French matriarch and socialite. In a different era, she was the type of French woman that would have hosted the best salon in Paris, but in today's society she was more of a nomad, moving from city to city in search of the best party. Married and divorced more times than even she remembered, Madame Charlotte exuded the French ideal of 'bon gout', surrounding herself with a mix of up-and-comers, as well as big names from the worlds of fashion, art, and politics. Liz had met Madame Charlotte when she was a little girl and had won over the older woman with her adorable big green-hazel eyes and fearless curiosity.
"Ma cherie! I did not expect you here tonight," exclaimed Madame Charlotte in her heavy accented English. "Zee last time I invited you to one of these parties, what did you say to me with that wonderful American expression."
"Over my dead body," Liz replied deadpanned.
"Oh yes, but of course, and yet here you are, presumably, in the living."
"Not for much longer, I can assure you."
"Is everything alright, ma cherie?" Madame Charlotte looked at her seriously.
"No, nothing that serious." Liz replied heavily, "just having to deal with some typical American male stupidity."
"Well, let me assure you there is nothing special about zee American male stupidity. In fact, in my experience all men can be rather stupid, but tell me c'est quoi le problem?"
Liz spent the next few minutes explaining what she had overheard at the bar. While initially furious, the process of retelling helped her regain her cool and find some of the humor in what was clearly a ridiculous situation.
Across the room, Darcy's eyes kept straying to the woman from the bar. He saw her openly laughing with Madame Charlotte, a notorious Ice Queen, and Will felt something he hadn't in some time, intrigued. Deciding that perhaps he should listen to Charles and put himself 'out there', Will started to weave between dancing couples over to the two women.
However, even the best-laid plans can go awry and before he could reach his destination, he was waylaid by an orange missile - Charles' sister, Caroline.
"Will, dahling!" Caroline drawled, while grabbing onto his arm, "were you lost without me? I'm sorry to have left you all alone, but I just had to dance with Mr. So-and-so, you know for business and such."
Will couldn't tell if she was trying to make him jealous or reassure him, but regardless the overall result was repulsive.
"Ahh..no worries. In fact, I was just looking for your brother." Bold-faced lie but desperate times call for desperate measures.
"Well he's right there silly." Caroline stated while pointing in the direction Will had been heading.
Looking ahead, Will was confused. There was Charles. And Jane. Nothing confusing there, but they were standing with Madame Charlotte and his siren. Quickly marching over with Caroline practically jogging to keep up, Will was starting to feel his stomach drop.
As he got closer, he realized his premonition was right. His siren was none other than Jane's sister, Liz. The girl he had just cut to pieces at the bar. And to make matters worst, she had likely heard every word.
Reaching the small party, Will was speechless.
"Oh, hi Will." Charlie stated, "I was just talking about you to these lovely ladies."
"Hopefully, nothing too bad." Will responded while reddening. Could this night get any worst?
"How could they say anything bad about you, dahling?" interjected Caroline, "Why Will is the most charitable man I've ever met!"
And somehow the night reached a new low. Feeling like he was going to puke, Will wanted to run away but realized he should at least try to apologize to Liz. He just needed to get her alone for a minute and explain that this was not his night.
Liz herself was also currently feeling the need to flee from what was increasingly becoming a night worthy of Moliere. First, this awful party. Then, this rude man. And finally, this ridiculous turn of events. If she wasn't worried about embarrassing Jane, Liz would have started laughing manically right there and then.
Caroline sensing Will's focus on Liz quickly went into the offensive.
"So Charles, who is your friend?" Caroline asked, while pointedly looking at Liz.
"This is my Liz!" Jane exclaimed excitedly before Charles had a chance to reply, "I begged her to come this evening so that we could all finally meet. I'm sure you two will love each other."
"Enchante." Liz offered.
"I'm sure." Caroline purred condescendingly.
"Good evening, Madame Charlotte." Will offered, trying to include the older woman in the conversation, "I'm not sure you remember me but I'm -"
"Will Darcy," Madame Charlotte imperiously interrupted, "yes, I know who you are."
Caroline quickly realizing that this was the Madame Charlotte, the woman that knew anybody who was anybody, jumped in.
"So wonderful to meet you Madame Charlotte." She sweetly offered, "my name is Caroline Bingley and I hope you are enjoying my party."
"Yes, it is very original."
Liz couldn't help but smirk at her reply. Saying something was original was essentially the veiled French way of telling someone they had no class.
Seeing her smirk, Caroline zeroed in on Liz.
"Liz, is it? How do you know Madame Charlotte?"
While Liz was normally a very forthright person, she felt little desire to divulge the rather long and complicated history between the two women. And so, went with the short answer.
"I walk her dogs when she is in the city."
And here come the crickets, she thought.
Liz took stock of the reactions around her. Jane and Madame Charlotte, both of who knew the truth, looked slightly uncomfortable but respected Liz's decision to 'selectively' omit the facts. Charlie looked a little confused, but squeezing Jane's hand, he proceeded to remark that he thought she had a really cool job that at least didn't involve slaving over a desk. Another bonus point for Charlie Bingley, Liz thought to herself.
Caroline and Will were clearly the two most unsettled by her declaration.
Caroline looked like she just swallowed something sour. "Well, that's special." She remarked, though she was wondering how quickly she could escort Liz out of the party. After all, it wouldn't do if anyone realized they had invited the help as a guest.
Will remained silent, but internally was tumultuous. On one hand, he still felt bad for his earlier comments and wanted to make amends. But at the same time, her admission showed that he hadn't been too far off the mark. I mean professional dog walker was a ridiculous job title. Mostly though, he felt disappointed. After all, there was no way that he, the William Darcy, heir of the Darcy name and fortune, could ever date a dog walker.
Liz was also feeling a little disappointed. Though, she expected Caroline's reaction, a small part of her was hoping for something more from Darcy. Well, it looked like she was right about his character - vain and proud to the core. Clearly, Darcy, with his intensely judging stare, now felt vindicated in his earlier dismissal of her. Well, his loss she told her self, though, she couldn't help but wish she could tell him the truth just to stick it to him.
But that's the thing. No one, outside of a select small group of friends and family would ever know the truth about Liz. And that's how she preferred to keep things.
Eventually, Liz escaped from the party a few hours later. Sneaking off while Jane and Charles slow danced, gazing into each other eyes. After tracking down a taxi to take her all the way back to Brooklyn, Liz couldn't help but feel like she was ready for 1999 to be over as she snuggled in her bed. Next year, no next millennium, will be better she told herself. I'll have a firm no snobby parties rule, and thus, never have to see stupid Will Darcy ever again. Little did she know how wrong she would be.