Lizzie learns within two minutes from the start of the meal that 'dinner' as defined by the Fitzwilliam family is closer to what counts as 'glorified senior banquet with real food' in her personal vocabulary.
Kitty, a social chameleon, the lucky girl, takes it all in stride. She smiles and nods at all the right times, and she answers Fitz's flirtatious looks with such subtle ones of her own that Lizzie knows she's only catching them because she's known Kitty all her life. On the farther side of the table, the older family members - which really just include Fitz's parents and his aunt - hold court with their weather-worn topics over the lamentable state of affairs the world has fallen into under the stewardship of Millennials. Between the oldies and Lizzie and Kitty sit Mr. Darcy, Miss Darcy, one highly overdressed Anne Rosings, Fitz, and Fitz's brother.
The older Fitzwilliam brother arrived late to the party, barely tolerating a quick introduction to Lizzie and Kitty before dinner began. He looks awkward and withdrawn, almost like his Darcy cousin, but in an infinitely more self-absorbed way. It is worth noting that Freddie Fitzwilliam, like everyone else in the family, apparently, is quite the looker. So at least Lizzie knows she'll be getting some very good shots this weekend for her portfolio.
"And what good are we supposed to achieve with all this publicity?" the old Mrs. Fitzwilliam, supposedly a hereditary countess of some sort, pipes up over the second course (yes, they have courses, and servants serving those courses). "I wouldn't want to unduly expose the family for nothing."
"Amelia." Her husband pats her hand. "It will be good for the business. Our boys can take it."
Lizzie catches a glimpse of Mr. Darcy clenching his jaw, almost as if he disagrees with his uncle.
"And God knows we need better press after the scandal." The other woman, whom Lizzie knows as Lady Catherine (whether that's a title or a first name - she has no idea) spits out her last word with a grimace.
"Aunt Catherine," Mr. Darcy says with warning in his tone. The vein in his handsome forehead that Lizzie noticed earlier looks even more visible now.
"What of it, Darce?" Lady Catherine scoffs. Ms. Anne Rosings reaches quickly to soothe her godmother's back in an overtly sympathetic manner. "Should I be reminding all of us of why exactly we need this publicity stunt in the first place?"
Lizzie turns when Miss Darcy starts choking, and she offers her water without a thought when she sees that the young girl has finished all of hers. Miss Darcy takes it and downs it in one go.
"Are you alright, Miss Darcy?" Lizzie asks when the coughing has significantly subsided.
"Giana, please," the young girl answers. She returns Lizzie's glass with a small, grateful smile.
"Giana." Lizzie smiles back.
"Thank you."
"You're welcome."
"You really shouldn't be sharing drinks," Giana's brother complains, frowning sternly.
Now it's Lizzie's turn to scoff. "If you didn't notice, sir, she was choking. I'm not trying to poison your sister."
The off-hand comments only seems to anger the strange man, and he looks ready to have a nervous breakdown when Giana touches him on the arm.
"It's fine, Will. Miss Bennet meant well." She smiles up sweetly at her brother. There's something in the way her eyes hesitate, almost like a cloud was passing through, that intrigues Lizzie. What kind of portrait would that expression make?
Mr. Darcy takes a visible breath, and he nods.
"Thank you, Miss Bennet." He surprises Lizzie. "You are most kind."
The man is old-fashioned in not just his fashion choices, apparently, because he also talks like a Regency book hero.
And, Lord help her, he is her type. Lizzie doesn't need to look to know Kitty's smirking herself into oblivion.
"It was the least I could do," Lizzie mutters. She fidgets with her unused utensils. There's enough silverware on the table to feed two Bennet families or more. "And, please, call me Lizzie."
"Very well, I am Will. Nice to meet you." His eyes meet hers in a gaze so deep and direct that Lizzie feels herself tumbling into a chasm, never to return. Drat, he's even made her start talking like a Regency heroine. "I look forward to a pleasant partnership."
She thanks her lucky stars that Fitz stands up just then and announces that their photographer has instructions for them regarding their attires and call times the next day. Lizzie doesn't quite have the instructions at hand. She has ideas, of course, but nothing formal just yet.
But she does scramble to her feet and try her best to string together something coherent enough.
Kitty won't be fooled, but maybe the rest of the crowd can be.
"We will start the shoot tomorrow morning in the West Gardens," Lizzie starts, imitating a teacher-like tone for lack of creativity.
"The de Bourgh Circle, you mean," Lady Catherine quickly corrects her. Anne the simpering supermodel snickers beside her godmother.
Lizzie tries to hide her irritation. "Yes, if that is how we are going to refer to them. The family is requested to be ready at 9:00, with the men in suits and the ladies in morning dress. We will begin with a clan photo, followed by close-ups for the Fitzwilliam four."
"The Fitzwilliam Four?" Freddie Fitzwilliam raises a brow. He smirks. "Is there a gang somewhere I'm not aware of?"
Lizzie tries not to blush at her faux pas. Who blurts out that kind of shorthand nickname? A nervous Lizzie Bennet who is highly aware of Mr. Darcy's patently intense gaze - that's who.
She clears her throat. "A family portrait, if you will, of the earl, and the countess, and Misters Frederick and Richard Fitzwilliam."
"Gregory, if you please - and Amelia," the earl answers with a twinkle in his eye. Is it any wonder the two sons are as good looking as they are with these two for parents? "We look forward to this session, miss."
"As do I." Lizzie feels the odd urge to bow, an urge she rightfully resists.
Say what you will about the uselessness of modern nobility, some of these people do have a timeless grace about them. Lizzie is curious, naturally, of what sort of salacious scandal is behind the need for this remediation of the family image. But she's done her due diligence and come up empty - so it must be something they are rather desperate to keep on the down low.
Why there is a need to patch up what the world obviously doesn't know about sort of eludes Lizzie's logic; but, hey, the paycheck and the free trip to Matlock Manor are pretty sweet.
"I will be in the gardens - the de Bourgh Circle, that is - by 8:00 a.m., should anyone need assistance," Lizzie rounds up her instructions.
"Do you ladies need help?" Freddie offers, a flirtatious smirk in place. "I understand some of this equipment is not easy on the arms."
Lizzie shakes her head with a polite smile. She can hear Kitty stifling a laugh. "We should be alright, although I appreciate the offer, sir."
"May I be assistance as well?" Mr. Darcy surprises everyone with his offer. "The gardens can be - expansive."
Lizzie thinks she sees Anne glowering out of the corner of her eye.
"Again, we appreciate the offer, but we are used to the work. We only request that the family be prepared on time."
Kitty at least has the mercy to wait until they're back in the room to tease Lizzie some more.
The morning sun kisses her cheeks as Lizzie jogs her way to the de Bourgh Circle the next morning. Her blouse and slacks are tucked away, traded in for her windbreaker and jeans. Today, she doesn't need to be anything but up and coming, award-winning photographer Eliza Bennet, and she can well dress any damn way she wants.
She smiles at the smell of freshly cut grass as she reaches for the stands to her studio lights. She probably won't need them with the weather this fine, but she readies them anyway.
The odd family interactions - and the surprise inclusion of a goddaughter - has thrown a wrench in her artistic vision. She's not about to let anything else catch her unawares.
"Miss Bennet."
Lizzie jumps, almost tripping on the wide stand. She whips around to identify the intruder, the tips of her ponytail brushing her cheek before falling back down against her shoulder.
"Are you alright? I'm sorry to startle you." Mr. William Darcy hovers awkwardly a few feet away. The idiot has the nerve to look impeccably attractive in his morning suit.
"It's fine," Lizzie mutters before she extricates herself from the tangle of metal rods. "I was just about done."
"So early?"
She checks her watch, a little disappointed to see that it's only 8:15. No one else would probably show up to save her from keeping Darcy company for another half hour. Kitty, for all her helpfulness, never did like the on-site prep work.
"I like to be prepared." Lizzie shrugs. She wipes her hands on her jeans, only to feel very much like a silly schoolgirl. "May I help you?"
He hesitates for a bit, and Lizzie studies the nice way his profile angles while he thinks through whatever he is thinking through.
These are going to be some bloody good looking family pictures. For a split second, Lizzie can't even begrudge whatever weird old sense of honor and prestige led the Fitzwilliam family to employing her services. The family is dashing, and they will spruce up her portfolio for any future clients in the best possible way.
"I was hoping to talk to you," Mr. Darcy interrupts her line of thought, forcing her back to the present.
"Alright, about what?"
He seems a little taken aback by her bluntness, but she wasn't here to tiptoe around feelings.
"It's, uhm, about my sister."
The fragile way he says the words sobers Lizzie instantly, and she quickly regrets her brashness earlier. Because, if there's anything in the world that can establish instant kinship with Elizabeth Bennet, it's a heartfelt desire to do right by one's sisters.
"I'm listening," she tries to speak gently. She takes a step closer, even if her arms stay crossed out of habit. "How can I help Miss Darcy?"
A troubled look taints his handsome face, and Lizzie very, very nearly reaches out to soothe his brow like some heroine from a period drama. She's glad he continues talking before she can do something that stupid.
"I am not sure if you have been made aware about the reasoning behind our family photo production."
She cocks her head briefly towards her shoulder. "I believe I know a bit - if not the particulars."
He nods solemnly, like he's in court bearing witness. "I am glad the news hasn't spread."
"As far as I know, from both research and from your family's behavior last night, this elaborate campaign is an effort to quell some sort of scandal - to improve the family's image for public relations purposes, if you will."
He nods again, this time frowning. "You've surmised correctly."
She waits to see if he will volunteer more information.
"My sister - " he starts, when the noise of a door being flung open and stilettos clicking on the age-old patio interrupt him.
"William!" Anne Rosings - dressed in what can only be described as a purple monstrosity of a dress - hollers across the gardens. "I am so glad I won't be waiting early on my own. Perhaps the photo girl can help us practice some poses!"
The wince, and then the grimace, on Mr. Darcy's face is hard to forget.
"Seems like we have company." Lizzie smirks.
He groans. "May I speak to you later, Miss Bennet? It might be better for you to understand - "
"Of course." She puts a hand on his arm. It's a casual touch, but it makes her feel connected to him somehow. "I'll tread carefully around your sister, I promise."
He looks at her gratefully, and she privately wishes Anne would break a heel just to let them share this moment a few seconds longer.
It's as uncharitable as thoughts come, but Lizzie didn't feel too bad considering the subject.
"And again - just call me Lizzie." She gives him a small smile.
He surprises her by giving her hand a small squeeze before she lets go. "Right, and call me Will."
"I will." She grins.
A/N: So we have Lady Catherine, in the flesh. As always, I cannot promise to answer all reviews one by one, but I certainly love reading all of them! Your readership and feedback mean the world. Thank you!