Chapter One - The Bennet Clan
It is a truth universally acknowledged that there is no call an aspiring writer looks forward to and dreads in equal measure so much as a call from their agent.
The synthesized chords of an 80's pop song emanating from his cell phone made Elijah Bennet jump like he'd been electrocuted. "Excuse me," he said to his family, standing up and scurrying out of the dining room. Elijah could hear his mother complaining about his lack of manners, but he ignored her as he slipped into the living room. Pulling his phone from his pocket, he caught a split-second view of his agent's name flashing on the screen before he jabbed the green button and lifted the cell to his ear.
"Hey, Char," he said, a bit breathlessly.
"Oh, Eli, I'm glad I caught you," Charlotte Lucas responded cheerfully. Elijah's heart leaped into his throat in anticipation. "Alright, well I've got good news and bad news. Which do you want first?"
"Let's get the bad over with," said Elijah.
"Right," said Charlotte. "Well, we got another letter." The smile slid from Elijah's face, and he dropped down to sit on the sofa. "I'm sorry, babe, I really thought we had it this time, but they said they're not taking anything in our genre right now. But it's okay, we've still got plenty of options. Which brings me to the good news. I've got us a great marketing opportunity."
"This isn't another stuffy tea party, is it?" Elijah asked trepidatiously. The last time Charlotte had tried to market him to publishers, he'd had to sit through eight hours of weak tea, silent auctions, and interpretive dance. In the end, all of that tedium hadn't even paid off, either.
"Far from it," she said with a laugh. "Netherfield Corp is hosting another one of their fancy fundraisers for literacy, and I managed to snag us some invites. They said to bring my best new project, and that's you. There'll be tons of people from publishing there, lots of chances to make contacts and rub elbows. It's black tie, and you get to bring a plus-one."
"When is it?" he asked.
"Friday," said Charlotte. Elijah made an impatient noise. "I know it's short notice, but it wasn't easy scoring these invites. It's not like we're the biggest agency out there, and you don't even want to know what I had to sacrifice to get Henry to give them to me instead of one of the other agents. Besides, I know you, it's not like you've got other plans. So dust off your best suit if you wanna be the next bestselling author. I know you've got what it takes, the book is brilliant; we just need to find you the right publisher. Okay?"
"Okay, Friday," he agreed.
"That's my boy," said Charlotte. "I'll text you the details, and I'll see you Friday. Love you!" With that, she hung up. Elijah sighed and leaned back into the sofa, letting his phone slip out of his hand.
It had been like that for the last eight months, ever since his manuscript had been picked up by the Meryton Literary Agency. Char was trying her hardest, but it seemed like the majority of the publishing world just wasn't looking to take a risk on a new author or his heartrending coming-of-age novel. Over the last few months, they had collected a stack of rejection letters that just kept growing. Elijah was trying to stay positive, but it wasn't easy when people kept telling him that the manuscript he'd poured four years of his life into just wasn't good enough.
Bracing himself, Elijah stood and walked back into the dining room of his childhood home. Immediately, six pairs of eyes flicked up to him, and he would have balked at the staring if it hadn't been an entirely too familiar sensation. "That wasn't very polite, Elijah," Mrs. Bennet chided, unsurprisingly. Sunday family dinners were something sacred in the Bennet household, a tradition established when the two oldest had officially moved out a few years prior.
"Sorry, had to take that," he said, reclaiming his seat at the table between his father and older sister, Jane.
"Charlotte?" asked Jane, already knowing the answer.
"Any news about your book?" Mr. Bennet asked curiously.
"Nothing good," Elijah said and picked up his discarded fork. He knew what was coming and he wasn't particularly in the mood to deal with it.
As expected, Mrs. Bennet tutted loudly from the other end of the table. "Now really, honey, you ought to look into a more profitable career," she said. "Something where you can afford to support a family. You can't keep working at that library forever. You know, your father's cousin - second cousin? - Anyway, I think he just started an advertising company, that's like writing. You could do that."
"I'm not giving up on my book, Mom," said Elijah, defenses immediately going up. Of the entire family, Mrs. Bennet was the one that Elijah was least like in personality, and it reflected in their tenuous relationship. Susan Bennet, born in Seoul as Soobin Rhee, had made it her life's ambition to raise her children to fit the all-American ideal. It never ceased to anguish her that her oldest son had turned out to be not only wholly uninterested in athletics, but was also a remarkably average student.
To say that Mrs. Bennet was disappointed would be an understatement.
"Besides," Elijah continued, "next weekend could be a big break for me. Char got me into one of those charity events run by Netherfield, it's a big fundraiser for literacy. There's going to be tons of publishers there. Char thinks we can make some good contacts, maybe even get someone interested in a contract."
Mr. Bennet opened his mouth, but Mrs. Bennet beat him to it, cooing loudly. "Ooh, maybe you will meet a nice girl there. You do clean up rather nicely, Elijah, although you could really use a haircut. Jane, would you make sure your brother cuts his hair before the party? He'll never land a girl if he looks all shaggy." Elijah frowned, combing a hand back through his hair self-consciously; he had caved to Jane's suggestion and tried something newer, a style far longer on top and shaved on the sides. Despite his reservations, he actually liked it.
"My hair was far longer when I was his age, and you still married me," Mr. Bennet pointed out with a smirk, indulging in his favorite hobby: riling up his wife.
"Those were different times," Mrs. Bennet said, waving his comment away with a hand. "You've seen the way the men look now, all those actors, they're all clean-cut now."
"Not all of them," Mr. Bennet said. "What about that guy from that house show you like? He's got almost the same hair as Eli."
Mrs. Bennet huffed. "Well he's in construction, he can get away with looking like that," she said, tossing in an exaggerated eye roll for effect. "All I'm saying is that no one will ever take him seriously wearing his hair like some teenager. You must agree there."
"It's a different world, Sue. I think he looks fine," Mr. Bennet said with a shrug. When Mrs. Bennet made another impatient noise, Mr. Bennet glanced sideways at Elijah and winked. Elijah hid his smile behind his wine glass. For all the relationship he lacked with his mother, he more than made up for with his father, even if he could never understand how his parents tolerated each other.
The marriage between Mr. and Mrs. Bennet was dysfunctional, at best. They were the epitome of high school sweethearts and married immediately after graduation, claiming true love. In all honesty, Elijah wondered if it hadn't had more to do with the fact that Mr. Bennet had a promising finance career in his family's business lined up for him after graduation. Things had been fine for a while, until after the birth of the twins, Mark and Kitty. Then the economy had collapsed, and the Bennet family business - and financial stability - went with it.
"So, Elijah," Mrs. Bennet started in her patented prying voice, and he knew he wasn't going to like the conversation that followed. "A Netherfield party? Isn't that the big company that runs all of those fancy fundraisers for the arts?"
"Yes, Mom," he said, knowing full well that she already knew that. Mrs. Bennet was well versed in every form of gossip, but most notably when New York's highest social circles were concerned.
"Oh, how exciting," she said, practically puffing up with eagerness. "You're not taking that redhead you were seeing, are you?"
"I'm not seeing Charlotte," said Elijah. "She's my agent, remember?"
"Oh good, she's so very plain," said Mrs. Bennet. "Nice hair, but such an ordinary face. And all those freckles."
"She's also my best friend," he reminded her tersely. "And I think she's pretty."
"Well sure, in a way, I suppose," Mrs. Bennet said dismissively. "But she's not pretty like our dear Jane."
"No one's pretty like Jane," Elijah conceded. Next to him, his elder sister blushed modestly.
"Of course not," said Mrs. Bennet, her favoritism showing through. In her eyes, the eldest Bennet could do no wrong. It was impossible to dislike Jane, though; not only was she an exquisite beauty - tall and willowy, with porcelain skin and big, dark eyes - but she also had the sweetest personality.
"You really can do much better than that redhead, though," said Mrs. Bennet. The one piece of her heritage that she had retained post-immigration was an over-involvement in her children's love lives, and it was her favorite pastime. "You're such a handsome boy, Elijah, if you'd just trim that hair. You never know who you could meet at a party by Netherfield. So many wealthy women. Pretty ones, from good families."
Elijah fidgeted uncomfortably, the truth clawing against the inside of his chest like it often did in these situations. All his mother wanted was for him to find a wife and settle down, but that wasn't part of Elijah's plan. There was that one little flaw where he wasn't interested in a wife. Or girlfriend. Or anyone of the female persuasion, actually. He couldn't tell her that, though, because he knew his conservative, old-fashioned mother wouldn't take well to finding out that her oldest son was gay.
"And you're really at that age where you should settle down and start a family," Mrs. Bennet continued, utterly oblivious to her son's discomfort.
"I'm twenty-seven," said Elijah, grateful for even the slight change of subject.
"I had the twins when I was your age," Mrs. Bennet said pointedly.
Elijah bristled, but he was stopped from saying anything by Jane setting a reassuring hand on his forearm. "Yes, Mother, but not all of us were lucky enough to meet our true love so young," Jane said.
"I have," youngest child Lydia chimed in from the other side of the table, where she was sitting in between the twins. Elijah bit back a snort of derision; Lydia was convinced she found her true love every other week. Perpetual party girl and social butterfly, Lydia went through boyfriends more often than most people changed their socks, thinking each of them was The One. None of her so-called 'true loves' lasted more than a month.
"Oh, that Jordan is a lovely boy," Mrs. Bennet said fondly before turning on her son again. "Whatever happened to that blonde you were seeing? The short one with the glasses? Are you going to take her with you to the party?"
Elijah thought guiltily of the girl from work he had let his mother believe he'd dated just to get her off his back for a while. "No, we aren't together anymore," he said. "We decided it wasn't a good idea since we work together. Actually, I thought Janey could be my date."
"Really?" Jane asked eagerly. "To a Netherfield ball?"
"Oh, how lovely!" Mrs. Bennet cheered and actually clapped her hands together in excitement. "You're so beautiful, Jane, I'm sure all the men will want to dance with you. Maybe you can meet some rich man who will marry you so you can stop working at that awful center."
"I love my job," said Jane. She worked as an art teacher and counselor at the local Boys and Girls Club, teaching painting to inner city kids. It was the sort of job she was perfectly suited for; her patient and caring personality made even the toughest, most troubled kids soften to her eventually. "Those kids just need someone to believe in them."
"I just think you could've been so much more," Mrs. Bennet said indifferently. "A beautiful face like yours, you really should have been a model or an actress. Or you could've been a dancer if you'd just kept with those lessons."
"I broke my ankle," Jane reminded her patiently.
"Ooh, you should wear that silver dress," said Mrs. Bennet, changing tracks without regard for what Jane was saying. As she launched into talking fashion with Jane, Elijah returned to his now tepid dinner and enjoyed being off the radar for a few minutes. He used the time to observe his family.
Across from him, Mark was scrolling through something on his phone beneath the table as he took carefully measured forkfuls of food. Quiet and reserved - and a little bit socially awkward - Mark was the analytical one of the family. He, at least, had met Mrs. Bennet hopes for an academic. In the rest of his life, though, the middle child was the epitome of mediocre; everything that he did, he did halfway.
The same could not be said for his twin sister Katherine, Kitty for short. A perpetual follower, Kitty always did exactly what everyone else was doing, although, to her credit, she did it all with full dedication. Her favorite person to copy was her younger sister, Lydia, whom she idolized and tailed around like a lost puppy.
At the head of the table, Mr. Bennet glanced at his older son and toasted him slightly with a forkful of au gratin potatoes. Elijah grinned in response. He and Mr. Bennet had always been close. It might've been their mutual love of classic literature, a shared fondness for raising Mrs. Bennet's blood pressure, or maybe it was just because they were both men in a mainly female household. All Elijah knew was that he was Mr. Bennet's favorite - something the family patriarch was not afraid to tell anyone who asked.
"Your mom'll kill me for saying it," Mr. Bennet stated in a whisper, "but don't worry about meeting your one true love at the party, yeah? Focus on you and your book and have fun. Everything else will come when it's meant to."
"Cheers to that," Elijah said and tapped his glass against Mr. Bennet's.
Elijah leaned back in his chair and looked around at his family. They might be crazy, but they were still a family. And really, they weren't that bad.
"Elijah, you never did tell me what happened to that lovely girl you were seeing around Christmas. You made such a cute pair..."
Well, most of the time anyway.