The sisters slide out of the ten-year-old sedan, their sneakers landing on the edge of the expansive driveway. They shut their car doors simultaneously, Lizzie's side closing with a thud, Kitty's with a crisp snap. It's funny how actions tell on us, sometimes.
"Well, isn't that pretty?" Kitty grins as the pair of them take in the view of the sprawling estate. Lizzie knew about Matlock Manor when she took the job, of course. She's even researched the property as much as she could with the aid of the powers that be from Google.
But it still feels different being on site.
"Figures they'd tell us the address of the side entrance." Lizzie grumbles. She lifts the camera on her chest to take a quick snap of the main house before she checks her settings. It's not her best camera; that one is safely packed away, reserved for the actual shoots. But it never hurts to practice early.
"As if the front entrance would work for a modern car." Kitty rolls her eyes. "I thought you'd be happier about this, Lizzie. Isn't this exactly the sort of Bridgerton fantasy come to life you and your friends would die to have?"
Lizzie shrugs, though a smile tugs at the edge of her lips. "Only if it comes with its own Duke of Hastings."
"I'm more a Colin Bridgerton fan, thank you very much."
"Well, an Anthony wouldn't hurt."
"Or a Michael Stirling?"
"Man, I hope they get to his season."
"You and I both." The sisters grin at each other, and Lizzie momentarily forgets her former discontent with the shoot.
It's not that there's anything wrong with doing portraits. She's always done her best work with people.
But the idea of being a pawn in some distant English nobleman's attempt to rehabilitate their family's image after a scandal sits ill with her. She loves England; she's loved it ever since she and Kitty moved across the pond following their father's second marriage. Jane stayed stateside for her then-boyfriend-now-husband. Mary stayed for college. Lydia bounces from coast to coast as much as she can afford, staying with Dad and Marianne when she's here and with Jane when she's home. Of the five sisters, only Lizzie and Kitty have decided to take root in the same country as their father and stepmother.
But as much as Lizzie loves her newfound home, she doesn't exactly embrace the remnants of an aristocratic system. There's a reason Americans fought that Revolutionary War, after all.
Being related to royalty is a fun piece of trivia, but it doesn't give anyone the right to think they're any better than other people. And boy does Lizzie hope her clients this weekend won't be of that variety.
The sound of another car approaching draws her attention, and the sisters turn to face what is now pretty obviously a Rolls Royce full of young, beautiful, over privileged people. Lizzie rolls her eyes. She hasn't even met her clients, and she sort of hates them already.
"Be nice," Kitty snaps, as if she can read thoughts.
"I'm always nice," Lizzie retorts.
"No, you're not."
"And how do you know this?"
"Because I am your sister-slash-flatmate-slash-photography-assistant."
"I can be professional when I want to be."
"Professional, yes - nice? Not necessarily."
Lizzie glares at her sister, and Kitty just grins.
"Hello, ladies, you must be our lovely photography team." A tall, blond man walks over. Lizzie recognizes him as one of the Fitzwilliam brothers, sons of the earl, but she's not quite sure which one. For a supposedly prominent family, there was surprisingly little information about them to fish on social media. "Did you have any trouble finding the place?"
Did they have any trouble finding a place that's so big she had to zoom out on Google maps to see it in full? Lizzie can't decide if the question is polite or condescending.
"It was no trouble," Kitty answers for them.
There's a glint in the man's eyes, an almost appreciative glimmer, as he smiles at Kitty. "I'm glad. May I assume I am speaking to Miss Eliza Bennet?"
"Just her assistant." Kitty smiles. She's always been uncommonly pretty when she smiles, and Lizzie doesn't know to swoon or groan that their employer seems to have noticed this little fact quickly. "This here - is the famous Eliza Bennet."
"Ah, I see." The man turns around gracefully. "A pleasure to meet you, Miss Bennet. I am Richard Fitzwilliam. I believe my secretary has been in touch with you."
Lizzie fights her urge to roll her eyes. She dons her professional alter ago. "Good morning, Mr. Fitzwilliam."
She would shake his hand if she could, but there's a car between them, and he seems a little loathe to leave Kitty's side.
"And you, miss - " He turns back towards Kitty.
"Catherine Bennet - Kitty, for short." She shakes his hand. His grin widens. "A pleasure, Mr. Fitzwilliam."
"Call me Fitz." He winks. And Lizzie actually rolls her eyes.
Maybe this weekend won't be as bad as she thought. Maybe it will just be like any other weekend, when the sisters hit their favorite pub and guys try hard to angle for Kitty's attention while Lizzie spends time with her phone.
"Hey Fitz!" A deep male voice hollers across the length of the driveway. The area is so wide it's practically a highway of its own. "What's the hold up with the help?"
The way the regrettably handsome man glances at Lizzie and Kitty indicate exactly who he thinks 'the help' are. And Lizzie changes her mind about puffed-up aristocrats all over again.
"They're our photographers!" Fitz hollers back. "Housekeeping should be done already. Just head to your usual rooms."
The man, who still hasn't smiled so far, nods gruffly and storms inside. A shorter, significantly younger girl follows in after him.
Fitz smiles at the Bennet sisters again. "Please don't mind my cousins."
Lizzie recalls her research. "Was that Mr. and Miss Darcy?"
"Unfortunately." Fitz laughs. "I promise we'll make them behave for the shoot. Come on, I'll have Mrs. Reynolds give you a tour."
Kitty grabs her backpack and walks in happily next to her newfound friend, and Lizzie continues dreading the weekend as much as she always did.
"The East Gardens are out this door, and the path to the West Gardens should be just across the conservatory." Mrs. Reynold, the Fitzwilliams' cheerful, middle-aged housekeeper, tries to help the Bennet sisters make sense of the intricate floor plan of Matlock Manor. Kitty takes notes on her phone, her fingers lightning fast over her screen, while Lizzie takes the experimental shot or two ever so often.
In a way, the name is a misnomer. Quite unlike the stuffy formality Lizzie thinks the word 'manor' evokes, the place is airy and luxurious in an almost modern, neoclassical sort of way. Whatever sort of noble pride the family possesses clearly translates to their property.
"Everything in order?" Mr. Richard Fitzwilliam - or Fitz, apparently - drops by to 'check on them' for the second time since they started their tour half an hour ago. The grounds are more expansive than Lizzie or Kitty ever thought they would be, but that doesn't mean they need to be herded around like second graders on a field trip.
Then again, the way Fitz is looking at Kitty suggests that he would love to chauffeur her anywhere she wants for the entire weekend.
It's a good thing Kitty is too picky for her own good, even if she can be an outrageous flirt when she feels like it.
"Perfect." Kitty smiles at Fitz, and Lizzie hides her own smile over how ridiculously obvious their mutual crushes are.
"And if you would just follow us over to the ballroom, we should be able to conclude our tour right after." Mrs. Reynolds makes a turn for the three young people to follow. Lizzie nods absent-mindedly as she takes stock of which hallways catch the light best.
She stops when they pass by a nice carpeted hallway that they still haven't explored.
"Mrs. Reynolds?"
"Yes, Miss Bennet?"
"Will I be able to take a look at some of the bedrooms - or the study or more personal spaces?" Lizzie fiddles with her camera strap. "It would be better for the shoot's intended purposes if we can present the family in a more personal light."
The housekeeper frowns. Lizzie notes how she steals a glance at Fitz before replying, "I would not wish to be so presumptuous."
"It doesn't have to be now, but the more I get to scout, the more we can maximize the venue to our advantage."
"I can ask the family what they are willing to share." Fitz offers helpfully.
Lizzie smiles at him. "Thank you, I appreciate that."
"But your father and your aunt, Mr. Fitz - " Mrs. Reynolds starts to protest.
"I'll handle them." Fitz grins widely, hands in his pockets. Lizzie considers how he might just be the key to brighten up formal family portraits. "If you ladies would excuse me - "
"Richard Fitzwilliam, in the flesh." The sound of a shrill female voice halts Fitz in his steps. He winces before turning around. The click of stilettos stop short in front of their little group.
Lizzie checks out the new arrival - from her platinum hair to her dramatic fuchsia dress to her impeccably painted toenails peaking out of her heels. Her face is bland and bored, the sort of look that women sport when they've spent way more years practicing their make up more than their brain.
Lizzie tries to recall if a socialite model ranked among the Fitzwilliam cousins. She can't think of any.
"Anne," Fitz greets, almost unhappily.
"What are they here for, and why are you running around after them?" This woman called Anne gestures vaguely at Lizzie and Kitty.
Lizzie holds her tongue as best she can.
"They are our photographers this weekend, so I would think you of all people would want to be nice to them."
Anne crinkles her nose in what can only be described as distaste. "I thought you got someone famous."
"I said I would get someone good."
Anne looks down her nose at Lizzie: Lizzie of the windbreaker coat and well-worn jeans.
"And you are?"
"Eliza Bennet, at your service." Lizzie extends a hand professionally.
Anne shakes it with the physical equivalent of a whimper. "Anne Rosings, honorary Fitzwilliam."
Fitz rolls his eyes and groans loudly. "You are not a Fitzwilliam."
"My godmother invited me, and I am here as family," Miss Anne Rosings argues. Her lips unfurl into a pout. "And I'm still waiting for your team to respond to that marketing campaign. I can't hold on to the same sponsors for forever. You need a better secretary."
"I like mine very much, thank you."
"It's not about how much you like him, you know."
Fitz looks ready to burst a blood vessel when his tall, dark, and handsome cousin rounds the corner. "Fitz! There you are! Your brother insists that you have the key to the yellow room. Giana's waiting."
Fitz searches his pockets and produces the aforementioned key.
"Thank you."
"Mr. Darcy!" Anne interjects then. Gone is the cold and calculating exterior. The woman is smiling at the taller cousin with the sweetness of a southern belle during her first beauty pageant. "How very nice to see you again."
It's almost impolitely satisfying to watch Mr. Darcy's otherwise neutral face curl into a frown. He nods his head once. "Anne."
"We shall have such a splendid weekend together!"
Fitz laughs the sort of laugh that comes out almost like a choke, and Mr. Darcy glares at his cousin.
"I'll be in the West Wing getting Giana settled in. I'll see you later." To Lizzie's surprise, he spares a look for her and Kitty. "Welcome, ladies. Good day, Mrs. Reynolds."
"I'll see you later, Mr. Darcy," Anne coos.
And Lizzie hides a smile when he ignores her.
"Who the heck needs to 'dress for dinner' in this day and age?" Lizzie tosses her third sweater on the bed before fumbling for more clothing options in her backpack. She knew there would be at least one glitzy social event this weekend, and she did bring at least one smart casual outfit so as not to stick out too glaringly during the supposed soirée. She just never expected to have to use it now.
"Have you seen that Miss Anne Paris Hilton?" Kitty smirks. The younger Bennet is still in her cute little summer dress and denim jacket, effortlessly urban chic, as she idly scrolls through her phone while Lizzie freaks. "She probably packed a whole spring collection right off the runway."
"I'm just a photographer, just 'the help.'" Lizzie straightens. "No one expects me to look good, right? Mrs. Reynolds said we're eating with the staff."
"That she did."
Lizzie nods and huffs with her hands on her hips. "Okay, I won't bother changing then. Just because our masters do doesn't mean we have to."
"You're still upset about that Darcy guy?"
"What are you talking about?"
"You know what I'm talking about." Kitty shoots her sister a glare that Lizzie readily returns. "He did look like your type."
"Excuse me?"
"Tall, handsome, with a side serving of arrogance. It's why you never understood the rest of our crushes." Kitty discusses her sisters' love lives like one would remark upon the weather. "Who needs charismatic bad boys or friendly jocks? The rest of us were never quite sophisticated, or socially awkward, enough for you."
"That is the most unfair description of - "
A knock on their assigned bedroom door has both girls turning sharply towards the door.
"Come in," Kitty calls out first.
"Hullo." The door cracks open and Fitz's head pops in. "Just wanted to let you ladies know we will be having dinner shortly."
"We've heard," says Lizzie. She's a little relieved to not have to finish her retort to Kitty, mostly because she didn't really have one.
"Right, of course you did." Fitz chuckles to himself. He seems to hesitate for a split second before he sneaks a totally obvious glance at Kitty and adds, "We'll be expecting you at the dining room with us."
Kitty, the evil spawn of a sister, actually grins. "Alright. We'll get dressed and be right down."
"Thank you." Fitz smiles, looking less nervous now. "I, uhm - we look forward to it."
He pops out the door as quickly as he'd popped in.
Kitty laughs the moment he leaves leaves, and Lizzie sighs the entire way down the hall and down the stairs in her one nice blouse and dress slacks.
A/N: As adaptations go, this one takes A LOT of liberty with canon, but I also had a lot of fun writing it. I hope you'll like it!
