Volume 2: THEY
Lizabeth quietly processed paperwork and answered questions when someone came in and managed to eke through the morning. Hunger replaced her headache, and she was thinking about lunch (though there was over a half-hour to the break) when someone came in to file a fictitious business statement.
It was a young man wanting to file a statement with another odd name about mining: Dude! What's Mine is Mine Ventures. He was overly flirtatious and made her repeat every word he said or pulled every word from her, winking as he did (even blowing her a kiss once) as she talked him through the process. Her instinct was to lean across the counter and slug him, though she resisted. Lizabeth simply wished he would leave and tried her best to get through the paperwork as fast as she could, but he, in turn, delayed everything as long as possible.
She noticed someone else come in out of the corner of her eye and sighed inwardly that she was going to be late for lunch. The imbecile in front of her repeated a question about a line on the form for the third time, which made her grit her teeth. Lizabeth glanced over and saw that it was William who had entered; he smiled gently.
"Hey, I came to take you to lunch. Is that okay?" William asked.
"Yeah. I'm almost done," she answered.
"I'm not," said the man with the form. His name was David.
"Yes, you are, you only need to sign it," she snapped. A half-hour of inanity was enough.
"So, what do I need to do again?" David pressed.
"I've explained this three times already, and it's on the paperwork I gave you," Lizabeth answered.
"Alright, and I come back in a month?" he showed no signs of heading to the exit.
"Only if you didn't do things correctly, then I send you a note in the mail. And the office is closing for lunch, so you need to leave," she pressed.
"What about him?" David pointed at William.
"He's leaving too; we all are," she said as she collected her purse and walked out from behind the counter to stare pointedly at the man until he gathered up his paperwork.
David rolled the papers in a tube and whacked his arm. "Right, leaving now," he said and finally left.
"Do you have to put up with people like that most days?" William asked.
"I get about one a week like that, but recently, there've been a run on this weird, almost creepy type that are all filing fictitious business names. And that's more than I should be saying," she stopped herself.
"Why?"
"Confidentiality," she replied. "I shouldn't be discussing who uses our services. People have a right to privacy and confidentiality, even if they are buttheads."
"I respect that about you," William said.
"It's just difficult sometimes when I need to talk about things that bother me," she continued.
"Have you tried talking to Judge Metcalfe about it?" he suggested.
"The Judge is too distracted right now."
"Well," he paused, pointing. They had been walking to the Hill Café, "I thought here since it's close, and you can get back to work quickly."
"Yes, thanks," said Lizabeth.
"Would you consider talking to me? I don't live in town; I'm just a visitor. I'm likely to be leaving soon and won't be back for months. What if I promise not to share the information with anyone else? Sometimes—what is that adage—a burden shared is a burden halved?"
"I suppose," she said. "I'll think about it." They got a table inside. It was noisy and crowded with the usual bustling lunchtime activities. "I'm surprised you came back—are you checking up on me?" Lizabeth asked after they had ordered.
"I'm just a responsible person. Once I've taken on a job, I need to see it through. After I saw you home, I had to make sure you'd recovered from being sick."
"Being sick?" Her eyes widened.
"You don't remember that?" he asked.
"No!" Lizabeth's voice rose an octave. She leaned over and whispered, "was I sick last night?" She reached for her water and took a sip to cover her embarrassment. Her cheeks were red. "I was quite a fool."
"All in all, I think getting plastered was an appropriate response, given everything," he replied. Lizabeth didn't know what to say to that. "But I'll leave you be, once I've assured you've eaten," he said.
"Doug brought me a bagel," she asserted.
"Did you eat it?" he asked.
"Half," she admitted.
"No fainting on the job," William admonished.
"Yes, sir!" she replied in mock obedience, though she was still embarrassed about the whole situation. How this man had become so involved in her life, she had no idea. The café had a readily available lunch menu with items that were easily customized. Their order arrived quickly.
"So, did you want to share?" he pressed.
"How much longer are you going to be around?" Lizabeth countered.
"Caroline is coming up tonight. I figure we will go back to Los Angeles tomorrow, or Sunday. It will be six to nine months before we come back to film, if we film here. So, I'll be out of your hair, sight unseen, for a long time."
"I'm not likely to see you again?" she mused, unsure how she felt about losing a friend for so long.
"I wouldn't say that," said William. "Maybe you'll be in LA for some reason?"
"I doubt it. I don't get much vacation, and I don't go anywhere unless I visit my parents. I doubt Mom would approve. She doesn't like LA."
"How old are you, if you don't mind my asking?"
Lizabeth thought she blushed again. "Twenty-five. I just had my birthday last week." He made no further comment, and they ate in silence for a while.
"So, your interesting issue at work?" William prompted.
"This feels unethical. But you're right; I tried to talk to Judge Metcalfe, though I haven't attempted to speak to him about it again. But there's been this series of people, men, who've been coming in to create fictitious businesses, but they all have funny names. Part of their names always include the word 'mine' or 'mining' and 'ventures' in them," she explained.
"Like gold-mining or ore?" he asked.
"Yeah," she nodded, pulling the tomato out of her sandwich, "it seems too much of a coincidence. They have to be related. A type."
"What kind of type?"
"I mean that the men all seem a kind of type. Those loner, gamer types who still live with their mother even though they're thirty, though I really am stereotyping."
"I don't know if I have any context," said William. A crease appeared between his eyebrows. "I've never thought about mining and businesses before."
"I thought they might be playing games professionally. But I can't believe so many men play games in Merton, not that I've researched it. They'd have to be making money at it if they wanted to file a fictitious name, don't you think?"
"So you tell me," said William, and he sat back in his chair. "Why do people file fictitious names?"
"Generally, people run small businesses out of their house, and instead of using their own name, they want some original name which states what they are doing. Say a woman is self-employed and a hobbyist and makes baskets. Instead of using Jane Doe, she uses 'Weaves On.'"
"Oh," he grunted as he chewed.
"Or, a man does taxes and wants a more formal name. Instead of John Smith, it's Smith Tax Preparer Services. Says what he does."
"But mining?"
"I know, right?"
"I can't think of anything," William admitted. They finished lunch and bused their table. He walked Lizabeth back to work and said goodbye.
"Thank you for lunch," she said. "Thank you for everything."
"You're welcome," he said.
William thought about how much time he had lost that week as he went back to his aunt's house to pack. He planned to meet Caroline once she showed, but he needed to return home the next day—for sure, this time, for all that he'd been claiming that he was going to go; he needed to go. Caroline showed no signs of stress for having to bear the brunt of the company business while he had been in Merton. She was exceptional at her job.
"I hate travel," Caro quipped. "I'm considering charging you for a driver for our next production. I could work in the backseat while someone else worries about getting across town or this damn state."
"So says a non-native," William responded. "When you're born in California, it's in your nature to take driving everywhere in stride. Besides, it's not like the production company is top-tier. I don't live in a mansion."
"You at least live in a house. Do you know how few people in LA own houses?" she pointed out.
"True. LA is a big place," he agreed. "It just depends on how far we live from our work. I did more scouting and found two houses which I think would look great for the outside shots for Bella Montaña," he said as they finally sat down to discuss details.
"We'll use sets, of course," she said.
"Of course. To film inside would be an astronomical cost, though there was something about Metcalfe's gardens that struck me. I think that we might put that to good use. Gardens can figure into a lot of scenes."
"You have a point there," Caroline agreed. They went over the details of the first eight episodes that had been written. "Do we have any idea how we're going to end the first season?" she asked.
"Family tension," William grumbled.
"Usually, the first season of any show is simple because we're introducing characters. We've got a brother and sister. We've got the flapper era and women's rights. The war has ended," Caro outlined.
"That's enough right there, don't you think?" he argued.
"We need a cliffhanger," she asserted.
"Pregnancy?"
"Been done," she murmured.
"He comes out of the closet?"
"Charles would never agree to that. We'd have to get a new leading man. Besides, it wasn't talked about then, which is a shame," she rolled her eyes.
"Yes," he agreed. "But maybe it's time we talked about gays in the twenties, the roaring twenties and all. There were gays then, right?"
"Yes," she said. "But that was speakeasies and city life, and we're talking about family dynasties in rural America. Homosexuality wasn't talked about there or then."
He thought about his family. "What if one of the kids wants the patriarch to split up the land, have their share? The daughter pushing for equal rights?"
"I don't think that would have ever been considered back then," Caroline argued. "This is just a show. But who knows? It was a time just on the heels of women getting the vote. We'd have to look at women's property rights," she continued warming to the subject.
"Would it be possible for a father to split up his land and give half to his daughter and half to his son? Otherwise, we're stuck with an illegitimate son showing up and claiming his part, because of course, he's older than Charles."
"That's always good for the first season," she commented.
"We never know if we're going to get a second season. But we don't want to play our entire hand the first season." They argued back and forth about what to do with Bella Montaña.
"So…was there a reason that I had to come back up for this, and are you still pursuing Lizabeth?" Caro asked suddenly.
"I didn't stay because of Lizabeth Bennet," William protested.
"I don't think you needed to spend an entire week with your aunt. I know how much she winds you up," remarked his fellow producer and confidant.
"Yeah, but it's her bi-decade sale of property as it's her only source of income. I feel an obligation to Anne that if they're going to do it, someone should ensure the best outcome."
"I suppose," Caroline agreed. "But you couldn't keep your eyes off of Lizabeth when we were having breakfast last Sunday. It's been a while since you had a girlfriend."
"Any objections to my pursuing Lizabeth?" he murmured.
"I liked her in the short amount of time that I spent with her," Caro began. There was something about the way she modulated her voice, and the entire way that she introduced the topic, which made him pay attention.
"But you're going to object," he interrupted.
"No," drawled Caroline. "She's different from anybody else you've come across in your thirty whatever years. But I just think you might be a bit of a steamroller with her."
"What? A bully? You're trying to say I bully women?" he protested.
"Hmph!" Caroline sighed and sipped her cocktail. "For as many years as I have known you, William Patrick Darcy, there are times when I'm at a loss as to how to talk to you," she said, exasperated. "I feel like we're married sometimes. Like we're this old, bickering couple who've forgotten how to talk to each other—like I can't figure out how to tell you something."
"What's this got to do with Lizabeth? I thought we were good friends, Caroline?" William asked, confused. "We've been working together for ten years. Ever since I got started and you came to me and asked for an internship."
"I know," she said, a little flustered, which was not Caroline Bingley's usual manner. "Sometimes, I wish I wasn't a lesbian. We would've made the perfect power couple, don't you think?"
"I don't know that I ever thought about it. We certainly make a good power couple now. I don't see why we have to bring sex into this," he answered.
"Well, maybe that's what I'm trying to say," Caroline pressed, staring hard at him.
"Are you worried that I am going to hire Lizabeth to replace you if I sleep with her?" he asked.
"No," she replied firmly. "I'm not worried about Lizabeth as my competition, either for your bed or my job."
"Can't you just spit it out!" he asserted, feeling like they were dancing around some topic, though he had no idea what it was.
"She's been sheltered…a lot."
"Yes, I got that sense," William said, still exasperated and frustrated and feeling his anger rise, but then he continued, "but she's twenty-five and living on her own. She's got that creepy ex, and maybe she needs a little protection, a little coddling, but I still don't see the point you're trying to make."
"Damnit William." Caro was calm and collected as she stared at him. Her voice lowered. "She's never slept with anyone."
He could only stare with his mouth hanging open at his co-producer. Such an idea had never occurred to him. He stared for a full minute. "I thought everybody lost their virginity before they left high school or in their first year of college."
"Not everybody," she quipped. He felt oddly numb about that information and wasn't sure what he was supposed to say. Caro excelled at holding her tongue, which made her an excellent producer. She was quiet now. William felt it was one time when he wanted her to speak; he wanted advice.
"You probably think I shouldn't pursue her because of this?" he finally asked after the silence got to him.
"No," she answered.
"No keeping her up on some pedestal to worship as a virgin goddess?" William asked.
"No."
"No admonishments to go gently as I debauch her?"
"No," replied Caroline. "Well…be gentle. I don't think I know your sexual preferences. It's not something we've shared over work cocktails."
William thought he blushed. "I'm so glad I don't have a human resources department as I am sure we would both get in trouble for this."
"Consider us off the clock," she commented.
"Why?" he said, a little louder than he intended. "I guess I still am finding no logic to you bringing up this topic, besides embarrassing me."
"I like her. I think she's wasted in this little town. But a woman's first time can make or break her, I think."
"Sounds like you're lusting after her just as much as I am," he remarked.
"She's beautiful in a different way, I admit that," said Caroline. "But Lizabeth wouldn't ever give me a chance. I wonder if she wouldn't look good on film?"
"I had the same thought. She's got the type of body that the camera would love."
"I can see her acting," she admitted.
"But what has that got to do with my sleeping with her?" he pressed.
"They're not related. I got off-topic," Caro admitted. "As I said, I like her and don't want to see her hurt with you banging her one night and then leaving and never coming back."
"I'll be back when we begin filming," he said, though he knew that was a lame comment.
"I don't normally go to bat for my fellow women, I guess," she explained. "But she was in the bar on Sunday because she'd just been chewed up and spat out in an awful way with that boyfriend the night before."
"I'm not even going to ask what happened," he interrupted.
"Don't jump to conclusions. And if you can't keep your hands off of her, just, as I said, be gentle. You're going to be faced with a woman's first time which means expectations and usually romance, which are high hurdles to jump."
"Virgin goddess," he murmured.
"No!" she cried. "Don't make this a huge deal either. Be mindful, but don't be a bastard about it either."
"I think you're just worried I'll actually date her and then start spending too much time up here. I'd be away from LA and the office and work," he accused.
"There's that too," Caroline remarked as she swallowed the last of her drink.
Lizabeth managed to get through her afternoon, locked the office doors, and made it home. She and the kitten ate dinner and lounged on the couch, napping there before moving to the bedroom. She had wanted to establish boundaries and insist that Kitty not sleep with her or have access to her bedroom, but she was tired and didn't enforce the rule that evening as she crawled in bed and fell right asleep.
Pounding in her head woke her up. Kitty was poking at her cheek, insisting on food, and a headache (probably the remnants of the one from Friday) motivated her to get up. She fed the cat, took something for her head then blissfully fell asleep again.
There was more pounding. Lizabeth opened her eyes, confused. Kitty wasn't on the bed, nor was the pounding inside her head. It was at her front door. She had no idea who would be visiting, but slipped from her bed and went down the hallway to stare at the door. There was no spy hole. She wondered if it was Edgar coming to demand that they talk, but there was no way to tell who stood there without answering it, and she felt very reluctant to open the door.
"Lizabeth, my baby, let your mother in!"
She unlocked the door and opened it to find her mother and father on the doorstep.
"Baby!" cried Mrs. Bennet and engulfed her in a hug. Her father was looking at his phone. He had an earbud in one ear as his eyes watched the phone's screen, but he followed his wife inside since it was chilly on the small landing.
Lizabeth shut the door in a daze as she had not anticipated her parents' visit (however, their visits were usually never planned). Mrs. Bennet grabbed Lizabeth in a second hug, not considering that her coat was cold and her daughter was only wearing thin pajamas. Mr. Bennet went to sit on the couch, absorbed in his game.
"You've not called me all week!" Dawn Bennet chided as she shrugged out of her jacket and handed it to her daughter to hang up. Lizabeth did, then tapped her father on the shoulder to get his. He peeled it carefully off without disturbing his earbuds (he had popped the second in already). There was an important game on (but then, there was always an important game on).
Dawn was rifling through the cupboards by then, looking at the contents and frowning.
"Mom, this is my house," Lizabeth began, but looking at the determined face of her mother, she gave up. Dawn had to finish opening all the cupboards before she sat at the small kitchen table and patted its top.
"Sit down and tell me all about it!" declared her mother. Then she put a hand under her nose and sneezed.
Lizabeth looked at her father consumed with whatever game he was watching. He wouldn't hear a word she said, though she wondered what topic had gotten her mother to get Todd Bennet out of bed to drive Dawn to Merton on this weekend of all weekends. The Super Bowl was on Sunday; there had to be all sorts of commentary about it today, along with his regular sports schedule. She hadn't grown up her father's daughter to not know the schedule for football, basketball, baseball, and even hockey — both professional and college.
"Work?" she deflected. "It's been the usual. Or did you mean the Metcalfe's party? That was so over-the-top it had to be the best party I've been to, ever!"
Dawn's face was open, her eyebrows raised in expectation of happy news; her lips were open slightly. "The party? No dearest, not the party! I want to hear all about you and Edgar!" Lizabeth didn't think it was possible, but those eyebrows (beautifully enhanced with a dark pencil) rose even more, and Mrs. Bennet's mouth opened as she leaned over.
Lizabeth blinked as she wasn't even quite awake yet. She thought of tea and her bed. She wondered where Kitty was (maybe in the spare room). She wondered if she could lie to her mother. She wondered how long her parents would stay, though she at least had sports on her side, so Todd Bennet wouldn't want to spend the night. He had a routine for big sports Sundays, and wasn't Super Bowl Sunday the biggest day of the year?
"Um, Mom, what do you think I have to share? What did Aunt Chrissie tell you?" Lizabeth asked.
"Why that he proposed!" Dawn slapped the table lightly, but then she sneezed.
"Why would she say that? How would she know if I didn't say anything?" she asked. Lizabeth didn't want to discuss Edgar's proposal with her mother. She knew just what her mother's view would be: that she should accept and marry him.
"Didn't you tell her?" Those brows creased. "Besides, it was Edward who called me to say that that nice young man had asked you to marry him. Are you thinking of a June wedding? Shall we fly to New York to shop for a wedding dress?"
"Mom, Mom!" Lizabeth had to rein in her mother. "I am not marrying Edgar. We broke up; we didn't get engaged. I don't know why Uncle Ned told you that we were engaged."
"Not engaged!" Again, all of Dawn Bennet's emotions showed on her face, mostly she was in disbelief, though Lizabeth thought there was some anger. "How can you not be engaged! You aren't getting any younger, and he's such a nice young man! Are you insane to pass up such an offer! Todd! Tell her, tell your daughter she should marry that nice boy, Edgar."
Mr. Bennet had his earbuds in and appeared not to hear his wife. His brows were furrowed in concentration like his wife's, but only because his basketball game wasn't going to his liking.
"Mom, I don't think I have to marry the first man I've dated," Lizabeth argued.
Her mother sneezed and ran a finger under her nose again, "he's rich, and handsome, and could keep you very well. What more do you want?" she argued as she held her fingers out in front of her to detail Edgar's finest points.
"I want to be in love," Lizabeth argued back. "I don't love Edgar! It was simply nice to have someone to take me out on a Friday night."
"See, nice places, nice things. Think of the house he could buy you." Dawn sneezed three times in succession then. "What is making me sneeze?"
"I don't need nice things to make me happy," Lizabeth declared. "Do you need a tissue?" She stood, eager to move as she could see no end to this argument. Often, she had to merely wait until Dawn had her say and was willing to end the discussion or had something else to do.
"No, let me get it," said her mother. She probably wanted to poke around in the bathroom while she was at it. Dawn disappeared. Lizabeth heard the door shut and a loud sneeze at the same moment.
She went to sit on the couch next to her father. He briefly looked her way then back at the screen. His phone was one of the extra-large ones which he chose because he spent so much time streaming sports. Todd Bennet had quite the set-up at home.
Lizabeth gently pulled one of the earbuds out of his ear. "Basketball?"
"Yup, college. Baylor's not looking so good. I'm worried." He didn't look at his daughter but kept his eyes on his screen.
"And you've got the Super Bowl tomorrow, so no way you're spending the night, right?" she asked.
"Right. I didn't want to come, but your mom insisted I drive her this morning. Something about you being engaged?" His eyes briefly found Lizabeth's.
"No, Dad, I'm not. Edgar and I broke up. Mom is misinformed."
"Sounds about par for the course with her," he remarked. "And I never liked that Ed guy much."
Her father turned back to his game, and the two of them sat in silence for a few minutes. A scream startled both of them. Lizabeth went to find out what had frightened her mother. Todd watched his daughter walk away before a play distracted him, and he went back to the Baylor/Kansas State game.
"Mom?" Lizabeth asked as she rushed down the hallway. She glanced in the bathroom, but her mother was done rifling through her personal items. Dawn was in her bedroom where Lizabeth could hear her sneezing repeatedly. The closet door was open, and her mother stood with a hand on the frame. Lizabeth was surprised that her mother wasn't going through her clothes, but as she listened to the non-stop sneezing, it hit her that her mother was allergic to cats. Kitty was probably asleep in the closet.
"You have a cat!" Mrs. Bennet cried. Lizabeth stepped up next to her mother and saw that Kitty was curled up on the dirty clothes in the middle of the closet.
"Yes. I got her last week. It's quite a story," she began.
"I hate cats," Dawn sneezed. "I'm allergic to them!" She sneezed again. "You'll have to get rid of it right away!" She turned to glare at her daughter in her most disdainful, 'you've been a bad girl' look she could muster as her eyes teared up.
Lizabeth felt a small blow to her chest, in a physical way, from her mother's reaction. Dawn had practiced beating her down for years, and Lizabeth had given in, always. The only way she asserted herself had been to sneak around, but she didn't want to cheat anymore.
"No, Mom. I love her. I rescued her. She's mine, and I'm keeping her."
"What!" screamed her mother. "You can't have a cat," a series of sneezes came then, and Dawn had to wipe her nose on her sleeve. "You must get rid of the cat. I could never spend the night. I can only visit for a few minutes, achoo!" She moved away from the closet towards Lizabeth's bed. There was a box of tissues on the bedside table, and Dawn pulled out three or four with violent jerks.
"Mom, I am keeping the kitten. I've never had a pet, and I want one," she argued.
Dawn blew her nose and wiped her eyes. "What an ungrateful child you are, Lizabeth Todd Bennet! All the things I've done for you! The sacrifices I have made! I practically gave up my life for you; I gave up my career to slave over you and raise you. And you won't do this one little itty bitty thing for your Mommy?" She looked at her daughter as her eyes widened dramatically, with tears at the edges. It was an oft-repeated scene that Dawn had used over the years. Lizabeth thought it enlightening that today it seemed dramatic and over-the-top when before it had seemed sincere and made her feel guilty.
"No, Mom. This is my house."
"Achoo!" Dawn sneezed again, wiped at her nose and glared at Lizabeth. A series of sneezes came again. Self-preservation kicked in, and Mrs. Bennet had to leave. "You're so ungrateful. I can't believe all the sacrifices I've made for you. And for what! No engagement to that nice young man and a cat! How did I not hear about the cat from Ned? Does he know? Todd, get your coat, we're leaving!" she screeched down the hall.
Lizabeth followed her mother out to the front room. She retrieved her parents' coats from the closet and helped her mother into hers. There was another lecture on ingratitude before Dawn Bennet wiped at her eyes and left.
A/N: posting when I can. Back from grocery shopping. Odd that store A has eggs and flour, but out of staples, but store B has produce and staples but no butter or eggs. You just need to hit more than one place! Hope everyone is doing well.
