A/N: Chapter Four, uh-huh, oh yeah. (Sorry, my sister has Dance Dance Revolution on.)
So. I apologize that the last chapter was absolute fluff, but fluff is fluffy is fluff! (Don't even try deciphering that one.)
Big shout-out to my reviewers: LOVE. ALL. OF. YOU. You make my boring days so much better. When I come home from school, slinging my backpack up to my room, groaning depressedly, I go online and see all of your reviews, it makes me so happy! THANK YOU.
And by the way, the reason Elizabeth was able to slice the chopping board in two so easily was 1) because she is unusually strong, especially when very, very angry, and 2) she has some pretty dern weak chopping boards in that thar livin' space of hers.
The narrative observations before the 'O0...0O' thingys are kind of like Gossip Girl's narrative style. Smug, very honest, but smug nonetheless. And pretty clever. (I hope mine are.)
Charlie is NOT being kind to Elizabeth only because she is Jane's best friend. He genuinely likes her and respects her, and realizes how her intelligence can benefit the company.
Disclaimer: It's all the work of Jane Austen, that paragon of literary virtue, that shrine of copyright laws, that person-who-irritates-me-whenever-I-have-to-write-a-disclaimer. And I have nothing to do with Chanel (see Caroline's angrily-grabbed purse).
--
Elizabeth sat in her office, working furiously on registration for a prototype model. She was good at this kind of thing.
But now, she wasn't.
She'd thrown out three forms already because she'd messed up on some minor detail. She felt sick to her stomach.
She tried another form. Registration Number 0010102.
No, that was wrong! It's 0010103. She moaned and crumpled it up, throwing it into the wastebasket.
She stopped. Maybe she was hungry. Her stomach was empty, but she felt like it would regurgitate anything that came into it.
She couldn't take the pressure. Hunger was a plausible excuse.
"I'm going to get lunch," she said to no one in particular, earning the pointed glares of Mr. Darcy's secretary. She fished a couple of dollars out of her purse, and took the elevator downstairs.
The elevator opened up on the fifteenth floor. Will stepped in.
It was an unbelievably awkward silence. Will simply looked at Elizabeth. Elizabeth glared at him in confusion and anger.
"So," Elizabeth said coldly, "are you going to just stand there and look at me like I'm an unpleasant patch of fungi obscuring the elevator, or perhaps make a half-hearted, insincere apology?"
"No," Will said just as coldly, "no, I was going to make an irrelevant comment about the weather and ask you how your day is going so far, not that I would particularly care."
Elizabeth gripped the elevator bar with both hands, leaning lightly against it as though it was a casual position, although her nerves were so taut she thought she would scream. "And then, I suppose, you would think I would say something about it going amazingly well for a first day, and how I met such awesome people, and gush to you about one of them in particular- a person you've never met, and would deem unimportant if you did."
"Correct. Then I would ask you how you like the corporation so far, and, regardless of your real opinion, would say something flattering in a futile hope to make me give you a promotion."
"Wrong. It is not in my style to flatter those whose heads are so big from that particular disease that they would explode with any more flattery. And if you think so, I am afraid you are very much mistaken about my personality."
"I am afraid you are mistaken about mine."
"Really." Elizabeth's lip curled unpleasantly. "One of the mistakes about your personality, Mr. Darcy, is that you misunderstand everyone else's. I have nothing more to say to you."
Will inclined his head sharply. "Then as we are done with our hypothetical conversation, perhaps you would allow me to step out of the elevator without a cutting goodbye comment?"
"Why certainly." Elizabeth smirked. "Have a nice day."
As Will walked closer to the front doors, he allowed himself one look at her retreating figure. Her high wavy black head carried itself with a dignity rare even in those noble, inbred circles he lived his life in, and he wondered if she was not in some way related to royalty.
She's got a pretty good title, Will. She's Queen of Your Heart.
O0...0O
"Hello, Will dear," Caroline smiled ingratiatingly as he sat down at the restaurant table.
"No need to be formal," Will said sarcastically. "Caroline, how many bloody times to I have to tell you to call me Fitzwilliam?"
"Well, then, Fitzwilliam, I just wanted to know if you will be able to come to my next big party of the season two weeks from Saturday. This one is at my mother's mansion. It's in Lincolnshire."
"Yes, I know where it is," sighed Will. "Look, Caroline, I really don't have time for much talk. I really must get back to work and-"
"It is called a date," Caroline whined, in a manipulative (and successful) attempt to make Will ashamed of himself. "And you did ask me to lunch here. And I was counting on you to regale me with something funny, and turn this foggy day into something sunshiny. And illuminating. And-"
Will raised his eyebrows and cleared his throat. "Ahm. Well, one of my interns tried to hide her face from me, resulting in her trying to balance the coffee unsuccessfully and spilling it on the floor…"
He drummed his fingers on the table and smiled mechanically.
Caroline studied his face intently. There was something underlying going on, something she was trying to pick up on. She had only seen him this distracted when thinking about…
Could it be…
Will nervously readjusted his tie. "Well, you had to be there."
"What's the name of the intern?"
"Oh. Well, I can't tell you. Classified information, you know." Will emitted a mirthless chuckle. "Thank you," he said hastily as the waiter arrived with the menus. "Caroline, what kind of wine would you-"
"It's Elizabeth, isn't it?" Caroline's eyes narrowed to slits.
She decided to play the anger card. Will, she knew, didn't wish to offend her for gallantry's sake and because he couldn't bear to isolate his friendship with Charlie.
"I beg your pardon, Caroline, you must be mistaken, there isn't any kind of wine named Elizabeth-"
"You hired her? That impudent little bitch?" Caroline's voice was the stuff of horror movies.
"I didn't hire her," Will said angrily. "Your brother did." As soon as he said it, he realized his mistake. Caroline would axe-murder Charlie as soon as she saw him again. "I mean--I did."
"No you didn't!" Caroline's voice reached shrieking pitch, making a 'scene' in a very public, and tasteless, way. "I CANNOT BELIEVE YOU! YOU SHOULD HAVE GATHERED SUFFICIENT INFORMATION ABOUT HER PERSONALITY AT THE PARTY! SHE IS- SHE IS-" She paused to catch her breath. "AN OBNOXIOUS SLUT. I THOUGHT YOU HATED HER! YOU SHOULD HAVE DISMISSED HER THE FIRST TIME YOU SET EYES ON HER IN THAT OFFICE!"
By now, the whole restaurant was staring at her in an obviously outraged way.
It was a part she relished. "WE ARE THROUGH! THROUGH! YOU SICK BASTARD!" She grabbed her Chanel clutch angrily and strode furiously out of the restaurant.
Will stood up, gaping at her like a fish out of water.
Then again, Caroline's sulking was a beautiful excuse to steer clear of her for a few days. He smiled in appreciation and walked out of the restaurant.
Maybe Elizabeth's not terrible for my life after all.
Elementary, my dear Darcy.
O0...0O
Elizabeth's gorge rose in her throat and her heart best abnormally fast. Her mouth was dry, so dry.
"Good afternoon, Mrs. Hopkins," Will said negligently. His eyes fell on Elizabeth.
She looked at him slowly, blinking those long eyelashes and her black eyes so intense it would be enough to shie away anyone with a weaker glare than Will.
But Will looked. And-
Will knew what he wanted now; he just had no earthly idea how to get it.
In conclusion, Love is the greatest humbler. It set Will at zero even with all of his billions and his hot looks and his infinite air of choosing women like they were dolls in a store made just for him.
And you'd better believe Fate enjoyed his discomfort.