Chapter 7

A/N: Chapter 7 is up!

I'm sorry this took a while….

I got the line " 'Don't flatter yourself', she said crushingly' from The Boleyn Inheritance by Phillippa Gregory. Great book. : )

And I like Fred on You Tube but I do not 'own' him.

And I was going to include a whole 'Will forced Charlie to leave Jane and go on a world tour in…uh…(insert your choice of a third-world country here)', but I'm no sure if I can squeeze it in, sorry to disappoint.

And (sorry to begin all these sentences with 'and', which is grammatically incorrect, but who gives a d--n), yes, Will's parlor floor is covered with black-and-white-tiles, but an area roughly the size and shape of a carpet is covered in this beautiful wine-red carpet. (Sorry to be overly descriptive.)

A few years ago, I read the eighth book in A Series of Unfortunate Events, called the Hostile Hospital. In it, Esme Squalor had stiletto heels so high and thin they could indeed be used as stilettos. Caroline Bingley's fashion sense is rather based on her crazy outfits. : )

'Ma cherie' is French for 'my dear'. Oddly enough, it pops up a lot in British literature.

Disclaimer: All Jane Austen's. And I am not the genius behind Fred. (Or in front of Fred. Hahaha. More corny humor. Don't be disturbed if you don't get it.)

--

"She's so mean…yet so attractive."

-Fred, on You Tube

"Mrs. Reynolds?"

She came in. "Mr. Darcy?"

"Will."

"Yes." She smiled, yet managed again to evade calling him Will. "What is it you want me to do?"

"Can you do me a big favor and get Robbie to check the Internet for the London listings for Elizabeth Bennet? Get her phone number?"

"Of course. ROBBIE!"

A young, large-eared, pimple-covered underling came in. "Mrs. Reynolds?"

"Look up the London address of Elizabeth Bennet. On the double! Nay, on the triple!"

He huffed, shifting his unpleasant weight from one board to the other. "On it." He ran to the kitchen, where a hidden laptop was conveniently placed.

He came back a few minutes later, phone number in his hand. "Here you go, sir."

"Thank you." Will dialed the number on the smooth, cream-colored old telephone he had had modified to work like a modern one. He tapped his foot impatiently, wearing a groove on the wine-colored carpet underneath his feet.

Elizabeth, please pick up. Please pick up.

"Yes? Who is this?" A deep, pleasant voice answered, although not the one he expected (and wanted) to hear.

"Jane? Sorry. This is Will. Can I talk to Elizabeth?"

"Sure." He heard Jane put her hand over the phone, then a muffled, "LIZZIE! PHONE FOR YOU!"

"COMING! Hello, who is this?" came the shrewish voice of his growing attentions.

"Mr. Darcy," he said. "From work. I trust I am in your mind."

"Don't flatter yourself," she said crushingly.

"Anyway, I need you to come to my mansion this evening. We need to discuss File A from the second batch of file drives, make sure they're up to scratch."

"Can't we do this at work? Unlike the person on the other end of the phone, I have a life."

"If you want to remain in this industry, I expect you to sacrifice it for us. Otherwise, you could try our competition across town; I hear they are hiring janitorial staff."

"Thanks for the tip."

"My pleasure."

"So…"

"Yes?"

"I suppose I'll come, since I can't get fired."

"Do you know how to get there?"

"No, how should I?"

"It's a historic spot, you know."

"Um, no, actually I didn't know, and if your family lives there I would happen to have a supreme disdain for it."

"It's a good thing you never met my grandmother."

"I beg you pardon?"

"Nothing. I'll send the directions to your computer, which I trust you have?"

He heard a faint click…

…Then that long, droning low note that phones make when you're the only one on the line.

"….Miss Bennet? Hello?"

She'd hung up on him! The impudence of that woman!

It was a technique that none of the society women chasing after him had ever tried on him. But it proved irresistible.

O0...0O

The taxi dropped Elizabeth off at the enormous double gates of Pemberley mansion.

She stood there, outside the wrought-iron bars, completely at a loss as to what to do. She tried banging on them with her fist (with enormous injury to the fist in question). She shouted, "HELLO??"

Luckily, a servant spotted her and pressed the combination inside to open the gates.

"Thank you," she said hastily. "I'm Elizabeth Bennet, I'm supposed to meet Mr. Darcy, I…"

The servant stared oddly at her. Evidently she was quite out of place here, with her faded skirt and old cashmere sweater. He, at least, blended in with the elaborately and neatly designed hedges, gardens, rolling green slopes, and absolutely gorgeous mansion behind him. He was wearing an expensive tuxedo and his hair was very, very neat. Elizabeth itched to stomp her foot on those hedges, uproot the grounds, and pull the hair out of that dismissive face. But as it was, she could only stand there, swinging her arms lamely.

"I'll see what I can do," he sighed wearily and then walked so quickly, Elizabeth had trouble keeping up. "You're not an obsessive fan, are you?"

"No."

"Do you have proof?"

"You'll just have to take my word for it."

The man stopped, eyes rolling irritably. "I see you are carrying a briefcase. May I see your employee identification?"

"Sure," Elizabeth said, with honeyed sweetness. She dug around in her wallet for the I.D., and, by some stroke of luck, found it. She gave it to him.

"Yes, yes," he said. "Very good. Here you go." He gave it back to her and resumed his crazy walking pace of before, leaving Elizabeth trailing in his dust.

Elizabeth was led into the foyer and from there to the parlor, a large, mint-green room with black-and-white tiling and velvet, Victorian furniture. It was beautiful. Unlike Bingley's, which was tasteful enough but always seemed to be lacking a certain depth and quality, it had a quiet elegance that did not force itself on you.

"Should I sit down?" she asked hesitantly. "I mean, if you-"

"Do sit." He did not even offer her refreshments, a definite sign she was considered unimportant.

She sat awkwardly and watched the sunset from the enormous windows.

It was relaxing, but Elizabeth's cashmere sweater was prickling her terribly. She was desperate to take it off, but her tank top underneath was quite low-cut. She debated herself in her mind. Well, the sweater looks nice but it is absolutely murdering me. And it's not like Darcy cares how I look; he's dating Caroline Bingley. I guess I could take it off; it's not like anyone but Darcy is going to see and disapprove of me.

She ran quickly to the foyer, where a coat-rack(mahogany, and polished to an unbelievable shine) was standing, and deposited the cashmere sweater.

She made it to the couch just in time as Darcy came through the front door. He was greeted obsessively by the housekeeper and butler, unlike herself, and was asked several times if he wanted refreshment, which he declined.

He put his (much better-looking, and real leather) briefcase on the coffee table. "Miss Bennet," he said politely, staring at her revealing top.

Elizabeth blushed. He thinks it's slutty! Oh no! I should have worn the sweater…. Too late, I guess.

She cleared her throat. "I, erm, uh-"

"What?"

She opened up her briefcase and took out File A. "Do you…want to start reviewing the prototypes?"

"No…I'm okay with them. I actually found out we can wait on those, actually it would be better if we pulled them out next week. The company who assembles those is merging with another one, and the political climate is less than accommodating."

Elizabeth didn't have the faintest idea what he was saying. She doubted he knew what he was saying either. "Well, I guess I can go home then…"

"Ah, no, actually Mrs. Reynolds can give you a tour of the house if you like."

"I'll pass."

"No, really, I need you to stay. Caroline is coming over for dinner and-"

"You don't need me for that," she snapped, brow furrowed. "What the hell are you driving at?"

"I beg your pardon?" No one, not even the most forward people or the most outraged workers, cursed at Fitzwilliam Darcy the Third in his presence. Oddly enough, he wasn't that angry.

"Why do you need me here?"

No plausible excuse occurred to Fitzwilliam, except more work. "Get to work on the registration sheets for the company outing next week, okay?"

Elizabeth raised her eyebrows. "Okay, whatever you say…"

She worked in silence, scribbling away. Will fidgeted and paced up and down and she even caught a glimpse of him biting his cuticles. I thought he was with Caroline. If he likes her, why is he so…on edge? And not like a young man in love, like a prisoner waiting for a death sentence.

"So, on edge about Caroline Bingley at all?"

"No. Why would you say that?"

"Your evident discomfort, perhaps?"

"That's romantic discomfort."

"Funny, you never struck me as the romantic type."

"I-" Will stopped short as he realized he didn't have to explain anything to her; he was on the top level of the company and she was a lowly intern. "This is not a company-appropriate topic!"

Someone rang the doorbell. Will nervously adjusted his tie in mid-stride and went to open it. "Caroline! Come in. Do sit down."

She smiled, doing a 360 on the spot to show off herself. Her hair looked immaculate but somehow fake, in an updo, and her face was heavily made up. Her gorgeous dress outlined her ridiculously proportioned figure (courtesy of Daddy) and her high heels were so high and thin they could be used as lethal weapons. In short, she looked like a whore in a bar, except in better quality clothes.

She was pretty, even beautiful, and her eyes shone with a light rather attractive, but Elizabeth had a natural grace and very striking combination of features that made Caroline really look like a whore in a bar. Especially with the orange eyeshadow, red lipstick, pink blush, etc.

"Will, I was waiting the whole day for this moment, and now I'm here," she sighed contentedly.

Will cocked his eyebrow in a way that assured Elizabeth he didn't believe a word she was saying. He led Caroline to the camel-colored sofa and sat her down, then sat down himself. "Would you like any refreshments, Caroline?"

"No, thank you."

At this moment, Georgiana came downstairs, her emerald velvet dress accentuating her golden hair. Although it must be confessed her features were otherwise entirely normal, her hair was so silky and gold, like a Princess Aurora in Sleeping Beauty, one itched to touch it or even just look at its bouncy, glossy texture. It looked like a million dollars.

"Georgie! Where are you going?"

"To get Sam."

"What do you mean, 'to get Sam'? I told you I can't meet him tonight."

"You have to. He needs to fly to his parents in the Philippines tomorrow."

"He's Filipino?" Will snapped, his hereditary disdain for minority races showing its ugly head.

"Did I say that? No, I did not!" Georgiana exclaimed indignantly. "I just said he has to visit his parents in the Philippines; I said nothing about him being Filipino."

"Is he?"

"Well, maybe…" Georgiana teetered on the subject.

"I cannot believe you! Our parents must be turning over in their graves this very moment!"

"You know they never believed in all this disdain for minorities. Father picked Mr. Harvey, a native African, to run a whole branch of the company over our cousin Reggie! Don't you tell me about what our parents bloody wanted! And if you're so desperate to know, you can shoot yourself and go and ask them!"

Then she noticed Caroline and Elizabeth, jaws so wide open they could well have been dislocated by now, eyes stretching to the sizes of huge circles. "I, um- that is to say, I, er-"

Caroline was the first to recover. "Georgiana! A pleasure, as always. Such a pity you missed the Netherfield ball- did I tell you, the Ambassador of Peru was there as well, and I told him the most charming story about you when you were a child-"

Georgiana glared at her. "Did you really? I must hear it some other time when I am not preoccupied. Perhaps the next millennia is suitable for you?"

Caroline was seething inside, but knowing how very precarious her position as Will's girlfriend was, smiled and said, "Oh, Georgiana, how intelligent of you! Lord knows I could never figure out what that meant. A real genius. I do believe it runs in your family, having now met you and being with your brother and meeting Lady Catherine De Bourgh Cholmley…"

"Goodbye," Georgiana sighed. "I'll be back in an hour or so, Will. Mrs. Reynolds is attending to the…erm…charge…in the nursery."

"Yes, of course." Will shook his head. "I need to check on the…charge…in the nursery, make sure…it's…okay."

Caroline and Elizabeth? Together? Alone? Pull out your hazmat suits, this is going to be a roughie.

O0...0O

Caroline called for tea. Once it had arrived, she set the cup on the table without even touching it and released her red manicured grasp on it. "So, Miss Eliza Bennet." She looked her over like a used car, assessing its looks, how much she had been conned in its appearance, whether it could go even five miles from the parking lot.

"So, Miss Carrie Bingley," Elizabeth mocked, folding her arms on her lap and crossing one slim leg over the other in a scarcely concealed mockery of the woman in front of her, taking liberties at calling her by a common nickname as Caroline had done her.

"I am so glad I can finally come into a better acquaintance with you. I saw you at the party, and I thought it odd an intern had come to the party, but then I watched you dance, you really stole the spotlight with Wonderful Wickham, and I was just dying to talk to you but alas, the duties of a hostess never stop."

"I comprehend, ma cherie," Elizabeth smiled. (Remember, it only takes 45 muscles to smile!)

"Well, you wouldn't, really," Caroline laughed. "I envy the few in my social circles who have no grand houses or fancy flats to attend to, no lavish balls to plan. Housekeeping on such a small scale must be nonexistent really."

Elizabeth ground her teeth. Did she just insult me by heavily hinting I was dirt poor? Um, yes. "Well, personally, I find balls and parties frivolous, filled with guests as empty in mind as their champagne glasses are in drink levels." Take that, whore!

Caroline's mouth curled sardonically. "Well, you've only been to a dress ball that is essentially rather informal, so fortunately your experience is quite little. I know parties where all the guests are entirely intelligent, despite the champagne, of which you have never been to." And never will go to, not while I've got breath in my body.

Will came back at that moment, lucky for both of them. "How'd it go?" he asked in a perfunctory way, knowing full well it went rudely and atrociously.

"Wonderful!" Caroline gushed.

Elizabeth said nothing and bent her wavy black head over the files again.

"Look, Caroline, I'm sorry, but our private dinner may not be so private if Georgiana, Miss Bennet, and Georgiana's husband come. The other two dining rooms are under reconstruction."

"That's alright," she smiled. "Then we can all get to know each other!"

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. "Can I go home now?"

"No, sorry. Miss Bennet, I need you for File A after dinner. You can dine with us."

"Must I?"

"Do you value your job security?"

"If you keep condescending to me in such a way, no, I won't!"

As Caroline watched Will and Elizabeth storm off into the dining hall, snapping at each other, she realized the situation was dangerous and could result in social ruin if she didn't do something, fast. For if Fitzwilliam Darcy, insanely handsome, wealthy billionaire, and with an old English title, knelt before a woman and asked her to marry him, what woman in their right minds would say no?

We'll see. We know at least one woman who would.