I turn my face off-camera to give my colleagues a quick look. We’re all phenomenal at reading each other’s expressions by now. In fact, I think it’s safe to say that we’re all masters of telepathy.
This time, my quick expression says This is fuckin’ awesome, but we deserve it for being the best at what we do—now we need to keep being the best and REALLY get into this show.
Yep, they understood every word, and I can see every one of my amazing co-performers light up us we all get back into show-mode. It’s not like we have a script, so it is up to somebody to initiate whatever’s going to happen next. I feel a morsel of relief as Jane starts talking:
“I think the heat must be getting to Lizzie, but we do keep it hot in here.” Okay, Jane is still in telethon-mode, and she’s taking a little shot at me. That’s fine.
Mary gives Jane a comically puzzled look. Shit, this is going to be a roast, isn’t it?
“What was that, Jane? I think Lizzie broke my eardrums.” Yeah, it’s a roast, alright.
“I think she also broke all the glasses downstairs.” Now Charlie’s getting in on the action.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah—what-fucking-ever. We promised a show, now let’s…”
Another first for today: the show is interrupted by somebody throwing open the door. There are good reasons for this never to happen. Anyone living at Bennet Mansion knows the schedule very well, and also knows not to interrupt a live broadcast. The mansion only gets visitors rarely, and those visits are well-planned.
Nobody would be able to find the mansion without having been here before. And, even if somebody knew where the mansion is, how would they be able to make their way to the specific room were a live was happening? These spaces are soundproofed, the mansion is big, and it’s not like we give…tours.
Yeah, I know who this is. My costars have only the ghosts of alarm in their faces as turn their heads to the door, but I don’t even bother looking. I can hear those goddamn loafers, the ones I’ve only see him wear at work, clicking into the show space.
“We’re doing a show, Mr. Big.”
None of us mansion-dwelling cam stars are quiet or shy as a rule. We are each outspoken in our own distinct way. If Charlie, Lydia or Jane says something, you know it’s them. Usually. However, this time my four costars start muttering, whispering, gossiping to each other as Darcy just clods into the room like an oaf.
They’re trying to figure out what in the world is going on, but I just don’t care.
“This is not part of the show, folks,” Mary announces straight into the camera. “I don’t think.”
“Lizzie, it was me. You asked who it was, and I’m here to tell you that it was me.”
I finally take a look at Darcy. He’s standing in that same spot he chose during our tour—man, that feels like centuries ago now. This time, instead of confident and aloof, he looks pleading, almost desperate. Almost cartoonish.
Part of me wants to laugh, part of me feels bad, and a small part of me wants to run over and just wrap my arms around him. I’ll settle for asking him a question.
“What difference does it make, Mr. Darcy?”
Darcy carefully steps forward. Just a single step.
“It makes no difference to me. The money, that is. I could just keep spending it, I’ll do whatever it takes.”
I look over to where Jane and Lydia are gawking at this weird exchange.
“Hey, I like this guy.” Jane is smiling, she seems sincerely thrilled, and amused.
Charlie jumps in front of her and waves at Darcy.
“Hello? Mr. Billionaire? Don’t worry if Lizzie’s being a grouch. We’ll be more than happy to let you keep spending money. Why, now that you’re here in person, we can also take cash, debit cards, a cashier’s check…”
“Darcy,” I interrupt, needing to get this over with, “you can’t just come here anytime you want and wander into a show. This is live, as you know. We want nothing to do with your abomination of a site.”
Darcy very gingerly takes another step forward.
“It is an abomination, Lizzie. It’s the worst idea…look, I just want to be with you. I realize now that’s not the way, though. I want to keep Bennet Babes running, and I want it run exactly the way you want it. I want to keep your ideas, Lizzie, and I want more of them—and I want you.”
It’s a little maudlin, and my fellow Bennet Babes are giggling a bit, but…I am getting a lump in my throat. I can’t let myself get carried away by this, not on camera. Besides, I don’t know what little loophole that Darcy has in mind this time, and I’m not sure I want to know.
“There’s no way around this, Darcy. Not with your own rules. You know it. You just can’t have everything.”