With filming finally finished, Benn Williams free from his regency trappings and dressed down in t-shirt and jeans, met Lizzy Darcy in the car park and they drove to the nearest Toby Carvery on the outskirts of Kympton. Surprisingly, they didn't attract any attention, except from the waitress who refused to accept Benn's coupon. Lizzy had laughed as he had pulled it out of his wallet as the bill was presented, calling him a skinflint, he redeemed himself by leaving a £20 tip tucked under the receipt for the waitress who had generally been quite pleasant and lovely.
As they drove back through the winding country lanes of Derbyshire, through High Lanes and New Mills, and then Lambton itself they talked about the film – he said he had never read the book, and she chided him in such a way that he told her to stop the car so he could get out and walk; he asked her about Matthew and she said that she would rather not talk about it now, water under the bridge; she asked him if had enjoyed London and he said that he hadn't, but that he had a good divorce attorney who was getting paid a whole heap of money to make things better. As they neared the Alveston Arms he asked her to keep driving back to Pemberley, which she did. They parked behind the stables and she grabbed his hand and led him through the top gate where they could sneak through into the gardens.
"It must have been amazing growing up here," he said sitting down on the bench outside of the Orangery, "I imagine it must have been like living in a castle!"
Sitting beside him, she pulled her cardigan over her shoulders, suddenly chilled by the cool breeze, "it was amazing, I had the most wonderful childhood," she smiled up at him, "completely bonkers, but wonderful."
"I've never really noticed how big it is," he looked up at the very top of the house, gazing back at the vast expanse of sandstone and windows. "It's beautiful."
"It is," she agreed, smiling. "Do you fancy a brew?"
"Aye, lass, that sounds great."
"Excellent," she smiled. "Me too…I might even let you have one of my special macarons if you are good!"
He smirked, with the wry smile that inadvertently caused women up and down the country to swoon. "I'm always good. Special macarons, you say? What makes them so special."
"They are frightfully expensive," she said in her Lady Liz voice, which he had been teasing her about for half of the evening.
"Well, they do sound remarkably special," he said mimicking her tone in his own Mr Darcy voice. "Excuse me if I have misunderstood, Lady Elizabeth, but are you inviting me up for coffee?"
"Mr Williams, how very dare you, have you no sense of propriety!", she grinned, with a mock indignation that made him laugh with his whole face. "But yes, tea, coffee, hot chocolate… just don't be expecting anything untoward, acting is such a vulgar profession and I am a Lady."
There was that laugh again, it felt strange coming out of his body – he hadn't felt it for a long time and for a moment he had forgotten what there was to be sad about.
"My flat is literally there," she said, pointing at the Wyatt tower, which stood behind the impressive arches and columns of the south front, the one that adorned the booklets and magnets that he had seen earlier in the gift shop.
"But how do we get in?" He looked puzzled, the main entrance to the house was all locked up.
"Do not fret, Mr Williams, I have a key!"
Benn had gladly followed Lizzy up the three flights of stairs to her odd, little apartment in the roof at Pemberley, with its floor to ceiling windows and mezzanine, he commented on how surprisingly like a Manhattan loft it felt. She had laughed at his strangely placed flattery and mentioned how it had been cobbled together by the Historical House Society after they inherited the house, and the only architects they had consulted were the local Lambton builders who had made a hodgepodge of rooms in the old staff quarters into her lovely, large, warm flat. This section of the building was called the Wyatt Tower and had been added by Fitzwilliam Darcy in the 1830's to house his ever-growing team of staff, She put the TV on for him, made him a coffee and settled herself on the chair opposite the big red sofa covered in throws where he firstly sat and then slumped. Her home was stylish, understated and a bit eclectic, with odd shabby pieces of furniture, which he assumed were family heirlooms, mixed with newer bits and bobs. There were also piles and piles of books, on the coffee table where she had temptingly placed a few biscuits on a plate ("I won't tell if you won't") and over in the kitchen, where one wall was home to a massive bookcase.
"Do you read?" he asked, before realising that it was a stupid question.
She grinned, "what gave you that impression?"
"I…erm…" He grabbed a book from the table and pretended to be interested in it, before looking up at her smiling at him amused.
"Yes, I do like to read… a lot," she crossed over and plonked herself on the large leather armchair. "It makes me sad to think that there is a massive library in the house down there and nobody ever reads the books in it anymore"
"So, you made your own library up here…" he realised that he had emptied his cup and she got up from the chair to grab the pot from the kitchen.
"Of course, what else?"
"Can you not go and read in the library downstairs," he questioned, intertwining his fingers around the hand of the coffee mug, "would that be against the rules?" The cup in his hands said 'Faculty of Law' and he remembered reading that she was a solicitor or something.
Lizzy thought carefully before answering, the truth was that she was able to go and read the books in the library if she wished, but it wasn't the same. She couldn't curl up in her pyjamas with a mug of hot chocolate and lemon biscuits on the big old armchair in front of the fire or pile a stack of books high and spend an afternoon working through them. She wouldn't be able to hear Winston snoring in his chair as they waited for Mrs Reynolds to cook their Sunday lunch, listening to records and lazing about. So instead of trying to get used to this new order, she simply didn't really go into the library anymore unless specifically asked about something in there. Once the HHS had taken over they had painted over the soft yellows and white, replacing the creamy damasks with heavy velvets and red, flocked wallpaper in a late Victorian style. Lizzy thought it looked like an Indian restaurant.
"Not against the rules so much, but against my better judgement," she mumbled, disappearing upstairs, before returning a few moments later with her make up off and her dress replaced by a vest top, cardigan and soft cotton trousers with llamas on. She was not usually accustomed to revealing this much of her inner slob to anyone, but she had work the next day and it was exhausting wearing a dress all night.
She smiled apologetically, refilling his mug with freshly brewed coffee - "Don't worry, it's decaff." - from the pot, before settling back down on the chair.
"I often find wearing dresses very exhausting," he reached over to grab a biscuit.
"Are you making fun of me?" She crossed her arms and glared at him.
"No," he said firmly. "I did a lot of regional theatre – I was the best Widow Twanky in Leicester for three seasons." He pretended to adjust his bosom.
"You did panto?" she grinned, "I thought actors like you were made in labs somewhere outside Pinewood."
"Actors like me? What's that supposed to mean?" He grabbed another jaffa cake.
"Are you kidding? Look at you, you're like," she moved over to the couch and poked him on the arm, "not real. When they said you were going to be Darcy I was hoping that you would be much shorter and fatter in real life, and not as…" she noticed the way he was looking at her, listening carefully to everything she said, "…not as arrogant and full of yourself," she recovered. "But one can't have everything can they?"
Benn Williams wasn't quite sure what to make of this woman; couldn't quite make her out and even though she revealed some things about herself, it was mostly superficial. He had always thought himself to be a good judge of character, had an ability to read people which had made him a very good salesman in the past, when he had sold mobile phones in a shop in Croydon.
"Do you ever feel the pressure of being a Darcy," he questioned, turning his cup over in his hand, "I know Madeleine always felt that she had so much to live up to and it would surely be much worse for you." It was odd saying her name out loud, talking about her in a past tense, but the meeting with his divorce attorney had confirmed what he had sadly resigned himself to.
"I have never felt the pressure of being a Darcy -it's a different kind of responsibility, you have this massive house and this huge heritage that everyone knows about – Elizabeth Bennet and Fitzwilliam Darcy –it's all real and they were actual people," she got up from the couch and stood in front of him, gesticulating wildly as she did, "not only that; they're your great-great-great-great-great grandparents and you live in Pemberley House, and you feel this massive urge to protect them and keep them safe from people, but you can't…" She sat back down on the couch, turning to him again, "Lizzie and Darcy belong to everyone now, but I still have to make sure that all the private bits are private, I owe that to them." She crunched a biscuit, sending crumbs scattering all over her cardigan.
"I see," he said softly, gently brushing the biscuit crumbs from her top. "I think you take too much of this upon yourself"
"What do you mean?" she stood up now, turning her back to him.
"You don't have to shoulder the burden of Pemberley by yourself..." he stood and took two steps towards her.
"I'm not by myself," she circled quickly to face him, before her attention was drawn to the stairs. "Harriet!"
Harriet was standing in her pyjamas, looking down at Benn Williams standing in her flat. She thought that maybe she was dreaming, turning on her heel she went back upstairs to bed.
"Maybe that's my cue to go," Benn smiled, grabbing his jacket from the chair. She walked him down to the staff entrance at the side of the house, where his car was already waiting.
"Okay, I'll… ummm… see you about, I guess?"
"Yes, I'm sure you will," she smiled warmly, leaning in to give him a hug, which turned into an awkward kiss on the cheek from him and laughter from her.
Getting into his car, Benn Williams took a moment to look back at Pemberley as it faded into the distance, he could see the lights of Lizzy's flat illuminated at the very top of the house from his position on the driveway. He hadn't come to Derbyshire with the intention of meeting someone, and strictly speaking it hadn't been a date, but if it had been a date he would have left tonight feeling quite confident with how it went. But, no, it hadn't been a date, despite that urge he had to kiss her; the way her nose crinkled up when she was talking about something with passion, or the way her eyes sparkled when she was teasing him, the way she smelled of coconut… But no, it wasn't a date.
Lizzy wandered up the back stairs, the quickest way to her flat from the front of the house – she was unsure what tonight was, she didn't have too much experience, but she was pretty sure that it felt like a date. There was even one point where she felt certain that he was going to kiss her, and she was unsure what she would have done if that had been the case, because part of her would have wanted to slap him for being so assuming, whilst the rest of her would love to be kissed hard by someone who knew how – and Benn Williams had years of onscreen practice. Walking back across the Bright Gallery, past the marble busts of Darcy and Elizabeth, she giggled at the absurdity of it, wondering how she would explain it to Deb at work, or even if she would explain it at all.