Never Mind!

by Nicky Roth

  Yawning she came into view and stopped in her tracks as she saw Darcy standing in the middle of the hallway.

  'Oh, sorry...,' she giggled and then carried on down the stairs. 'I didn't know your boyfriend was here.'

  In some mortification, Darcy quickly averted his eyes when he saw Lydia in her scanty little baby-doll pyjamas, while Elizabeth, equally mortified, decided to leave her sister's remark uncommented. Whatever she said on the subject now, would only make matters worse anyway.

  'Lydia, could you please get dressed? Or at least put on a bathrobe or something?' she instead suggested, grabbing her youngest sister by the shoulders to push her back up the stairs. 'We'll be back in half an hour, okay? We just go and get some Indian takeaway.'

  'Oh come now, don't be such a prude. I am sure Mr Darcy has seen women with less on. Can I have a poppadom?'

  'Go!'

  'Yeah, no need to be jealous,' Lydia grinned, blowing her a raspberry.

  Very mature...

  'Sorry about that,' Elizabeth sighed, reaching for her jacket. 'And thank you for your help. By the way, have you eaten anything?'

  'Scrambled eggs on toast. Actually, thinking about it now, the fact that I couldn't find a dishcloth then should have been a give away that there might not be a towel either.'

  'Perhaps. But not necessarily. Would you like to join us for dinner? It's on me. It's the least I can do for all your help. And with a bit of luck, Kitty and Lydia eat in the living room while watching telly. They normally do when they get away with it.'

  She was actually fairly surprised, when he accepted, though whether it was pleasantly so or not, she wasn't sure. She still couldn't make him out. There were times when she quite liked him, and times when she thought him to be nothing more than a pompous arse. Well, fortunately at the moment it was the former, so why not?

  Chapter 8:

  The Full Monty

  He had slept exceptionally well, despite his bed smelling of mothballs and despite the fact that he had eaten far too much far too late. It was early still, that much he knew, and a look at his watch told him, that it was only half past five. Good, half an hour longer! Darcy might be an early riser, but there was no need to overdo things, was there?

  But just as he dozed off again, he suddenly became aware of the reason he had woken up so early in the first place. A car was approaching. Or rather many of them. What the heck was going on? Oh, yes, the filming crew...

  Wait, what? This early? They couldn't be serious, could they? Well, obviously they were.

  Getting up from his bed, Fitzwilliam Darcy glanced out of his window, pushing aside the faded curtains to see a whole caravan of lorries, vans and smaller cars arrive and within minutes the whole driveway of Netherfield was packed with a crowd of people. It kind of reminded him of Pemberley during the summer holidays when groups of tourists would arrive to trudge through his home, a home that was also a museum. Weird concept, thinking about it. Sometimes it felt odd at best and uncomfortable at worst to have people gawk at how he and his family lived, and he had not made that decision lightly. However, with the holiday homes and the small hotel he owned he needed an attraction other than the Peaks to lure them there, and while Chatsworth and Matlock were not far off, Pemberley was, as a matter of fact, equally awe-inspiring and most and for all, right on site.

  For now, the whole crew looked normal enough, Darcy thought as he watched them unpack until someone realised that the front door was still locked. A violent rattling and knocking was the result and with a sigh, for he knew Bingley too well to assume that he was up already, he reached for his dressing gown and made his way downstairs to open the door.

  It was not as if it could be avoided, could it?

  'Ah, Mr Bingley?' a middle-aged man with slicked back thinning hair, a shirt open to almost his waist and a solid gold chain around his neck asked, reaching out his well-manicured hand.

  'No, Mr Bingley is still asleep, I fear. We didn't expect you to be quite this early. You will have to make do with me.'

  'But this is Netherfield House, isn't it?'

  Had they not bothered to look it up?

  'Yes, it is. I take it you are here for the filming?'

  What a stupid question, when right behind said man cameras of various sizes and several spotlights were unpacked and unceremoniously dropped on the gravel. Well, the patch of weeds that was supposed to be the gravel driveway, more like.

  'Exactement. That's us. Monty Howard is the name, you might have heard of me?'

  The man glanced at him hopefully.

  Should he lie? No, bad idea. When in doubt always go with the truth.

  'I am afraid I haven't, Mr Howard.'

  'Ah, call me Monty, we're not such a stuck up bunch here, eye. Not much bourgeoisie with our lot. You know, in our line of work it helps to loosen up. Excuse me - Perry, have you seen Gloria yet?'

  'Nope. Knowing her she'll be a while, Monty, especially if she's forgotten to put in her contacts,' a lanky guy with a pen and notepad answered, seemingly trying to organise things before they got out of hand.

  Fat chance!

  'Sorry, she's our star, you know? But she can be quite hopeless when it comes to finding her way around.'

  Darcy bit his tongue. So, Gloria was her name. To him, she had not looked very glorious the previous day, but thankfully tastes differ.

  'Perry, if she isn't here in half an hour, call her, will you?'

  'Sure, boss,' the man replied, now dragging a crate with God knew what across the path and up the steps. 'Hey, Tom, can you give me a hand please?'

  At that moment Monty's telephone began to ring.

  Why on earth would a grown man choose the crazy frog, of all things evil, as a ringtone?

  'Yeah, is that you Gloria? - What do you mean you can't find a tube that's going to Meryton? Of course, you can't find one, this is the country, honey. - No, you would have to take a train, darling. - What? Why are you taking public transport anyway? What's happened to your car? - You lost what?! - Your driver's license? Bloody hell, how did you manage to do that? - Ah, alright. Never mind... - Yes, yes, yes, we'll pick you up from the station. - Hell, how am I supposed to know from which fucking station the train leaves and when? Use the bloody internet. - What do you mean how? You've got a phone, don't you? - Yes exactly, that thing you hold in your hand. Call me ba...' for a moment Monty looked baffled, staring at the mobile in his hand.

  'Hung up,' he, at last, shrugged, turning back towards Darcy. 'So, where can we pack all our stuff?'

  How was he supposed to know?

  'Whoo-hoo, I'm sorry I'm late,' a well-known voice cried out from around the corner of the house.

  Caroline? Great! Wasn't she supposed to be kind of grounded in London?

  'Ah, Fitzwilliam, dear, good to see that at least someone is up and about. I take it Charles is still sleeping?'

  ' Yes, he is, obviously, considering the time. We didn't think you would turn up this early,' Darcy remarked icily, casting a glance at his watch.

  Just about six. Under normal circumstances, he would be just about to brush his teeth.

  'Oh, we have a very busy schedule, Fitzwilliam,' Monty piped up.

  'Mr Darcy, to you. I am very much bourgeoisie, I am afraid. Caroline, what are you doing here? I thought you were in London.'

  'I am. I mean, not right now, of course, but someone has to show them around the location and make sure everything is in order. And knowing my brother it won't be him.'

  Well, a bit of order would be good, he supposed. With every passing minute the team had spent there, the chaos had increased tenfold, and he started to doubt their professionalism somehow.

  'So, Monty, dear, where do you want to go? You said something about a library, didn't you?'

  Monty Howard nodded eagerly.

  'Yes, and we need a couple of bedrooms, naturally. You also said something about stables. Do we need to hire any animals or do you have some on site?'

  'Oh, Fitzwilliam's got horses
.'

  'Great! That'll do.'

  Darcy wanted to protest, but before he could even open his lips, Caroline and Monty had all but shoved him aside and stepped into the entrance hall.

  'Wonderful place, just what we've been looking for!'

  Shaking his head, Darcy made his way back to his room, to get dressed. He had just stripped and was now rummaging through his suitcase to find a pair of underpants when the door was flung open. Just like that. Bloody fantastic! Just what a man wants at six in the fucking morning.

  'Oh, sorry, we thought this is the red bedroom.'

  'The red bedroom, if there is such a thing, is elsewhere, and now please close the door!'

  'Hey, chill down, man!' the roady, or whatever his occupation was, replied lazily, leaving little doubt that what he smoked was not exactly tobacco, and most certainly not legal unless one happened to be in Amsterdam. But last he checked... - No, this was still Hertfordshire, England.

  'I am chilled, that is the point. It's cold and draughty and I would like to get dressed in peace and most and for all, in solitude.'

  'Yeah, man!'

  The stoned bloke was about to close the door when Bingley kept him from it and stepped into Darcy's room.

  'What's going on?' he mumbled sleepily still not quite awake.

  'The film-team, remember? It's nothing more than an ordinary Monday morning, I would say. Oh, and your sister is back on site.'

  Bingley grimaced and then turned around again without saying another word. He really wasn't much of a morning person, though normally he managed to hide it quite well behind his natural cheerfulness.

  Half an hour later Darcy was downstairs again, only to find that the kitchen had been made a meeting room and had he hoped for a cup of tea and a slice of toast, it was in vain, for it seemed that somebody had helped him- or herself to all their meagre food supplies.

  There was nothing to do but go shopping, it seemed. He was not really in the mood for an eat-sod-all diet and with Caroline around, he definitely needed something to settle his stomach.

  'Where are you going, Darcy?' Bingley now dressed and half-way awake asked.

  'Grocery-shopping. Our guests have raided the fridge.'

  'Oh, I took the liberty of serving them some breakfast,' Caroline piped up from behind them, standing casually in the doorway.

  Today she looked slightly more dressed in her jeggings and blouse, though the material of the latter was thin enough to reveal that she wore no bra.

  'Did you now?' her brother asked coldly, obviously thinking of how she was responsible for this mess in the first place.

  Seriously, there was not much love lost between the two siblings. Not at the moment at any rate.

  'Caro, I thought I told you to get your butt over to London and stay out of my life for once.'

  'Hey, calm down, I'm only here today to see that everyone is settled. I will be off in a minute and see that nothing went wrong with their reservations at that thing they call a hotel around here.'

  'Then, by all means, do so and be gone.'

  'Are you kicking me out?' she pouted.

  Dear me, when would she finally learn, that duck-face was a very unflattering expression?

  'Wow, you are quick on the uptake...' Charles threw back sarcastically.

  Good indication, if one knew him at all, that he was pretty pissed right now.

  'Can you give me a lift, Fitzwilliam?' Caroline turned on him with a sickeningly sweet smile.

  'What's with your own car?'

  Batting her eyelashes she replied: 'I can pick it up later. I mean, since you go into tow...'

  Darcy did not wait for her to finish, but took his keys and made a run for it. Yes, perhaps he was a coward, but with a woman like Caroline Bingley, it ensured a man's survival, that much was certain. Better be safe than sorry.

  He had taken his time. Actually, he had driven all the way over to St. Albans to go shopping, instead of using the local Tesco's, but he really wasn't keen on being back asap. Opting instead to linger even longer, yeah, he knew it wasn't exactly fair on Bingley, since the poor sod now had to wait for his breakfast, he plunked down in the cafeteria of the so called Shopping-Supercentre and ordered a cup of tea.

  Tea always soothed his nerves, especially when laced with a good shot of Whiskey.

  Unfortunately, it was too early for that and besides, he still needed to drive.

  Admittedly, the situation was such, that in a couple of years from now, it presumably would serve well as a hilarious anecdote. But as it was with all such circumstances, when one was actually faced with them, they were nothing but annoying. It went along the same lines as waking up after a really wild party at college only to find that the felt tip one's “friends” had used to scribble on one's arms and forehead, was a permanent one, or that the place where one woke up was not a bed or couch but a park bench and all one was wearing was women's underwear, suspenders and lace stockings included. Oh, and the classic at agricultural college had been wedging an unconscious person's privates in a blow-up sex-doll sheep.

  Yeah, there are things such as that. Sure, who didn't want to have sex with a sheep at least once in one's life? Okay, pretty much everybody he knew. Or so he at least hoped. Rhys perhaps. And why was he pondering on this rubbish anyway?

  When at last it was unavoidable to return to Netherfield he sighed heavily, wondering what would await him.

  Actually, as long as Caroline wasn't there, he was pretty much fine with anything. At one point in his life, he had actually been fine with her being around, but unfortunately, she was the kind of woman that when smiled at and treated with courtesy, she assumed she was hit on. And then there was the fact that he had money. Old money. Lots of it.

  The consequence was, that, though he had never given her any reason, had treated her with the same politeness as every other woman of his acquaintance, she had quickly turned into a mix between an octopus and a leech, both creatures he didn't particularly like. No, that was not quite accurate, either gave him the creeps, in combination they made him run at top speed. It was just his luck, that she happened to be his best friend's sister, and with that almost impossible to avoid for all eternity.

  Climbing out of his car, he was immediately faced with none other than Gloria. Whoohoo!

  'Excuse me, where do I find the stables? They told me I should step out of the door and then go right and around the corner, but there is nothing but a wall.'

  'That's because they meant the other right.'

  'What?'

  Oops, yeah, she was a natural blonde, he shouldn't forget that...

  'Lady, you turned left instead of right. However, you could have opened the gate over there and gone around that way, but the other way is a lot easier since the gate is a bit rusty.'

  'Gate?'

  'Let me guess, you are not wearing your contacts again?'

  'How did you know? - Well, I don't need them since I'm not allowed to drive for the next six months. That's half a year, you know?! But some fucking wanker called the police and told them I was driving dangerously. Can you believe it?'

  'Yep. By the way, that wanker was me.'

  'What? Why?'

  She seemed seriously shocked by that revelation.

  'Take an educated guess.'

  'What kind of guess?'

  Rolling his eyes in exasperation Darcy mumbled: 'Never mind!'

  Okay, that was already twice for today so far, and the day was still young. Too young.

  After unloading the car and storing the food, Darcy dodged about thirty people on his way up to his room. Just half an hour of peace and quiet. Half an hour of reading, and afterwards perhaps a little horse-riding, that was just the thing to go for. And when that was done, perhaps he could continue with the inventory. Even these people had to call it a day eventually, no matter how tight their schedule was.

  Opening the door to his room his mouth fell open.

  At one point or other, it was presumably every man's dream t
o find a naked and willing woman in one's bed and yes, he was no exception there. What was normally not included in such a dream was a whole crew of people taking care of the lighting, the sound and the filming as well as a frantic looking man in historical costume trying to get it up again.

  'Ah, sorry for the inconvenience, we'll be done shortly. John just has to come again. We would have been done by now, had not one of the spots blown up just when he came all over...'

  Darcy lifted his hands in a defensive gesture. This was decidedly TMFI.

  'Stop, I don't want to know. And thinking about it, I'll just quickly grab my things and be gone.'

  As if in a daze Darcy walked down the corridor and stairs completely lost in his own thoughts.

  'Darcy, are you alright?'

  'Do I look alright to you, Bingley?' he sighed, putting down his bag.

  'It was a rhetorical question.'

  'They have taken over my room.'

  'You are kidding, right?'

  'No.'

  'Oh, I wanted to tell you, but you rushed past me as if I were the devil,' Caroline pouted, once again.

  And what did she mean with “as if” she were the devil? She bloody was!

  'They tried to film in the red bedroom, but the lighting there wasn't very good at this time of day, so I moved them over to yours. I hope you don't mind.'

  Once more Darcy's mouth was gaping open. Oh, the audacity of that woman!

  Bingley recovered first: 'Caroline!'

  'What?'

  'Get the fuck out of my house and stay away from it. As a matter of fact, don't ever come back, do you hear?'

  'Charles, don't you think you are overreacting a little bit,' Caroline dared ask despite her brother's livid expression.

  And Charles Bingley livid was some sight to behold. One would not believe it, if one didn't see it for oneself.

  'What? Me overreacting? You, sister dearest, tricked me into this mess when you deliberately took off the back page of the contract for the gardener and switched it with the one of this so-called film crew, so I would sign it completely oblivious to what it actually was I was signing and even though I've read through even the small print as you know I always do. And then when all was sorted, you swapped the sheets back again, very sneaky. And you dare tell me I'm overreacting?!'