Chapter 3
A/N: Chapter 3 is up!
Elizabeth finds out, to her shock…..Will's the executive at HER company! Yes, it's so cliché but we all need a little cliché in our lives. Right? RIGHT? Please say right.
Please R & R! I wasn't able to reach Chrizel so if you are out there reading this, Chrizel, thank you so much for your constructive criticism. It really meant a lot to me. You actually inspired me to improve my chapters and take it more slowly, thus improving the quality of my work. And your review spurred me to discover how to edit chapters! : ) : ) : ) : ) And to the other awesome people who took their time and energy to comment. (Chica De Los Ojos Negras, Graciela, etc. etc.)
Wickham is kind of based on Chuck Bass (but only his personality in the Pilot episode) from Gossip Girl. Perverted, handsome, etc. Wickham won't appear again, thankfully, except for one scene possibly.
I made Charlotte Lucas absolutely nothing like the plump, domestic wren we know and love. She's not going to be super-important and it's kind of cool to have an insane, over-make upped girl in the story.
I have changed my mind and will not be including Aunt Catherine after all, nor her daughter. Why? Because it is very, very hard to have two MAIN villains in one piece. Only a literary legend like Miss Austen could pull it off, and she does so by slightly isolating Caroline anyway. I spent about two hours bummed out and thinking about it, and I seriously can't put them in without isolating Caroline, who is far too interesting to drop and keeps the mood lighter than it would be without her. Aunt Catherine is serious and stony, and makes for a rather Gothic piece.
Disclaimer: It's not fair! Jane Austen gets all the characters and books because they're rightfully hers! I want my mommy! And my lawyer! Oh wait, I don't have a lawyer.
I also have no affiliation, ownership-related or otherwise, with Zagat Survey.
--
Monday Morning
"And d'you know what he says to me? Do you?" Elizabeth took out her fury on the red pepper she was dicing.
"I can't even begin to guess," Jane said complacently, dicing mushrooms with not half so much anger and doing rather a better job.
"He says, 'No'. Just 'no'." She waited for Jane to explode with wrath. All she got was raised eyebrows and a slightly open mouth.
"I mean, can you believe that? 'No'?" Elizabeth tried to push Jane to temper point.
"He didn't even, like, acknowledge you in any way?"
"He did not! And then he started his conversation again with some kind of commissioner or other. He is just a disgusting-"
"Alright dear, so maybe he's not one of Charlie's better friends."
"He's his best friend!"
"Charlie is…."
"A nice guy," Elizabeth said impatiently, so caught up in her anger that she hadn't realized she was done with the red peppers and started dicing the chopping board, "but Jane, he's too nice for his own good."
"In my defense," Jane said rather coldly, "so am I, according to you."
"Oh, don't get that way, Jane. I think you two are good for each other. What I mean is, how could such an amazing man like Charlie be best friends with Darcy?"
"His name is Fitzwilliam, Lizzie, and he was rather polite to me and came over after dinner to talk to me."
"He thinks highly of you because anyone can see you're a saint, Jane. Unlike the rest of us poor mortals, who have to bear the brunt of his scorn."
"Elizabeth, don't you think you're overreacting, maybe just a little bit?"
"I am not--NOT--overreacting!" Elizabeth's final stroke sliced the chopping board in half.
"Good one. Throw it away, I'll get the eggs."
Elizabeth took out placemats, two forks, and two dishes, slapping them down on the table as if they had committed some horrible crime. "And then he has the gall to ask me to dance!"
"Did you say no?"
"Do you think I said yes?"
"Not really."
"Exactly!"
"Look, Liz, you're starting your new job today. Charlie's an executive at the company, and he'd promised he would set you up well. If you keep worrying about Fitzwilliam-"
"Darcy."
"What-ever. If you keep worrying about him, he will ruin your day. You will never see him again, so what difference does it make?"
"I know." Elizabeth stared gloomily into her tea cup.
"I'm going to the studio on the Square today, and my cell phone isn't working, so if you need to contact me, call them up. But I'll probably stop by at your office anyway at about midday, because Charlie's taking me to lunch." Jane dropped an omelet on her plate and on Elizabeth's, and sat down. "At Sheri's."
"No way!" Elizabeth said excitedly. "That was on the 'Top Ten Best Restaurants In London' listing when Zagat Survey took a vacation to England. Lucky. I only get a peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich."
"Well, you'll do fine," Jane said, not picking up on the humor of one best friend having a peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich while the other dined at a ludicrously expensive restaurant. "It's a good intern spot. You're going to be assistant to an important executive! That's got to mean something. And you know Rothman Technology corporation is one of the highest ranking in the world."
"I know."
"It's okay," Jane smiled, and finished the remains of her omelet. "I have to get to the studio and destroy Evie's stash of drugs before she gets there, so see you." She grabbed her coat and purse. Elizabeth grabbed her respective belongings and hastily changed into her nicest business uniform- a white blouse and black pencil skirt, and gathered her hair into a bun.
They ran down the stairs, talking as they did so.
"But I thought she works at a department store during the daytime. Wasn't she the one who got me the dress?"
"She does. But she always slips by for a morning pick-me-up, and it's destroying her career. I mean, how would you like to be greeted by a wasted store attendant when you go to the mall?"
"Actually, I would hate it."
"It was a rhetorical question, but whatever." As they reached the sidewalk, Jane hailed a taxi. "Have a good day."
"Yeah, you too." Elizabeth smiled and waved as the driver sped off, hailing a taxi in her own turn.
"Where to, miss?"
"Rothman Technology Corporation. Do you know where it is?"
"Yes." As the driver talked on and on about his new child and his harassing stepmother, who had just moved in (and bore an uncanny resemblance to Caroline Bingley), and Elizabeth nodded politely, interjecting "Oh"s and "I see"s at the right moments, she found her thoughts inevitably straying to Darcy. He was disgusting and rude and loutish. But she was trying to figure out what it was about him that eluded her comprehension. There was something about him she couldn't understand. And instead of making her feel less inclined to hate him, it made her feel the opposite way. Even in her thoughts, he harassed her, ruining her first day of work.
Well, at least the sun's shining. Even as she thought it, the clouds shifted and covered out the sun. How fitting.
Elizabeth got out and paid the driver, and, feeling rather guilty for not really listening to him, gave him a generous tip. "Thank you, miss," he said. "Good luck on your first day."
"How can you tell it's my first day?" Elizabeth asked curiously.
"You have that look on your face….Best of luck." He smiled and drove off.
I'll need as much luck as I can get, Elizabeth thought seriously. I'll bet this job will be very stressful.
Score one for Elizabeth versus Fate. It will be.
O0...0O
Elizabeth walked up the imposing marble front steps, her most expensive (and thus, not-so-expensive) pair of shoes making an annoying clicking sound. She saw the back of an impressively curly head of hair that looked familiar.
She caught up with the curly head and peered at his face. It was George Wickham.
"Hi," she smiled. "Do you remember me?"
"Sorry?" He sounded, and looked, seriously stoned.
"Elizabeth. Bennet. From the party on Saturday?"
"Yes," he replied, looking more at her chest than at her face. "Yes, I…." He scratched his head. "Actually, I don't. Wait, you were the hot brunette I talked to?"
"Uh…." Elizabeth looked into Wickham's foggy hazel eyes. "I suppose so."
Wickham gave her a huge, sloppy grin.
Elizabeth frowned at him. "I- Well, see you around."
"Yes. I will." He saluted her as she opened the door hastily.
O0...0O
Elizabeth was directed to the Orientation Room by an amiable security guard, where a plump and very harried-looking woman officially welcomed her and another girl in the corner with gothic makeup and chewing a green bubble, looking like a very out-of-place high-schooler.
"Welcome to Orientation Day," she said nervously, and cleared her throat several times. "Are you two the new interns?"
"Yes," Elizabeth answered.
"Whatever," Goth girl answered slowly.
"Okay, so I'll need you both to sign these two forms-" She took two packets of paper out of her briefcase. "They're consent forms stating that the company is not responsible for any accidental physical injury that includes broken bones, herniated discs, or bitch-slaps."
"Bitch-slaps?" Both girls laughed together.
"Well, one sister of an executive has been known to administer them. Accidentally, of course"
Obviously Caroline Bingley, Elizabeth thought amusedly. They signed the requisite forms and were directed to the sixteenth floor.
On the elevator, Goth Girl spat her chewing gum out into the garbage can and shook hands with Elizabeth. "Hi, I'm Charlotte Lucas," she said warmly, with an American accent. "You are…?"
"Elizabeth Bennet. No offense, but-"
"Why am I dressed like this? I believe that society is turning us into mindless clones, waiting for the right mind-control alien to come along and zap artificial intelligence into us. Lucky I'm prepared and dressed like this, huh?"
Elizabeth nodded slowly. She noticed how Charlotte's makeup and odd clothing was completely at odds with her kind of manly features. Thin lips, small, pinched eyes, completely generic nose. But she radiated a kind of mental energy that was not at all unattractive.
"That's….interesting," she replied. "Who were you assigned to for internship?"
"Oh, Charles Bingley. He's actually my second cousin, so he lets me dress like this." She gestured to her striped, cheap T-shirt, jeans with gaping rips in them at the knees, and yellow flip-flops. "Who do you have?"
Elizabeth opened her portfolio and started to sniff it, catching herself just in time. "Sorry, I just love the smell of manila folders," she apologized.
"That's cool," said Charlotte amusedly. "I like it too, but I usually don't smell them."
Elizabeth looked through the papers, eventually finding the one that said the executive she was assigned to.
YOU ARE ASSISTANT NUMBER 3.
YOU WILL BE ASSIGNED TO MR. FITZWILLIAM DARCY, ROOM 56 ON FLOOR SIXTEEN.
Elizabeth shook her head to clear her mind. Surely she had gotten her thoughts mixed up with the paper and thought it said Fitzwilliam Darcy.
She read it again. …..TO MR. FITZWILLIAM DARCY, ROOM 56.….
She read it again. MR. FITZWILLIAM DARCY.
She felt sick.
O0...0O
"To get to the root of it, gentlemen," Will said impatiently, banging his fist on the table, "the reason our stock is plunging is because-"
"Do you want coffee?" the head gentleman at the table, a man so round one could envision rolling him down the street like a bowling ball, said hastily. "I'll get an intern to get some coffee for us. Is that alright? Eh?"
"No, it most certainly is not," Will said crossly. "The reason our stock prices are plunging is because the economy in America is-"
Soon afterwards, a medium-tall brunette came in with ten coffees on a tray, holding the tray up so that it covered her face. "Oh," the head chucked, "there it is. Set the coffee tray there and put mine right here, that's good….."
But the woman would not put down the tray.
"Excuse me, madam," Will said irritably, "but could you just set the tray down here and then give it to…"
He trailed off as the tray slipped from her hands and fell to the floor, crashing the cups and splattering a rather gruesome mess of brown liquid all over the expensive sheep's-hair-colored rug.
But that wasn't what surprised him.
There was a girl standing before him, cheeks burning an unimaginable color of red, with scared huge eyes and a very silly expression on her face. It was Elizabeth.