Chapter Text
London traffic surprised Elizabeth every time she set out in it. It was nearly nine o’clock at night and still the roads were bursting with cars and buses, each stuffed to the brim with people in a hurry to get where they were going. She hummed a Mamie Smith song to herself as she moved along, trying to stave off the worry that she might not make it to her destination on time. Not that she was looking forward to this particular gig, but money was money and exposure was exposure and -
A man dropped into her passenger seat as if he had just fallen from the sky, causing her to shriek and swerve dangerously. He apologised emphatically but generally seemed to find the whole thing incredibly amusing. Elizabeth swore in a very undignified manner and pulled over.
“What in the world do you think you are doing you - you - you utter lunatic! I could have crashed!” She screeched, whirling to face the gentleman properly. Upon recognising him, her stomach turned to stone. It was Fitzwilliam Darcy, the famous movie actor. She had seen all of his movies, some more than once because she loved them so much. They always featured Caroline Bingley, the starlet and blonde bombshell, and together they were the most famous couple in England, if not the entire world. Their movies were viewed by millions and always got good reviews. Her internal panic almost made her miss what he said to her.
“I am truly sorry to frighten you, Miss.” He smiled at her charmingly. Truly, his movies had not done justice to his beauty. “You see, I was set upon by a swarm of women and barely escaped with my dignity.” He gestured to his tattered tuxedo by way of proof. He did look quite a state if she were honest, though it did nothing to quell her anger.
“Well, you seem to be quite safe now. Feel free to hit the pavement.” She gripped her steering wheel tighter as he looked at her in surprise. It was probably the first time in his life a woman had spoken to him the way she had.
“You’re not going to fawn over me?”
“Go chase yourself.”
“Why would I do that when I have such charming company?”
“If you don’t get out right now, I’m going to call the police,” Elizabeth threatened, raising a fist menacingly. He seemed to take her seriously at that moment, especially when a policeman happened to walk around the corner. He held his hands up in surrender.
“Okay, okay, I’m sorry, but I must beg you, Miss, to take pity on me and not send me back to that pack of wolves. I fear I won’t survive a second time.” He somehow managed to beg while remaining suave and smug. Elizabeth took in his pitiful appearance and relented, lowering her fist slowly.
“I’m heading towards Mayfair, is there somewhere I can drop you along the way?” She offered somewhat reluctantly. He smiled gratefully and rattled off an address that was not too far from where she needed to be. After acknowledging him with a nod, she turned back in her seat and pulled out onto the road. Traffic seemed to have died down, for now at least, and it was smooth sailing as they travelled further along the city. They were silent for a long while, and Elizabeth was acutely aware that he’d put his arm along the back of her seat as he stared at her. Her hands flexed against the wheel as she shifted subtly, putting some more distance between her skin and his.
“Might I ask the name of the lady whose company I’m enjoying?” He smiled easily at her. She flicked her gaze to him before immediately looking back at the road.
“Elizabeth Bennet, and you?” She replied cheerfully, having decided to play it cool to put him at ease. He’d already had a hard day with fans, there was no need to make him uncomfortable by revealing that she, too, enjoyed his work. He looked at her, his soulfully deep brown eyes flickering with astonishment.
“You really don’t know who I am?”
“Your face looks familiar, but I don’t know why. Should I know who you are?” She raised an eyebrow archly, challenging his arrogance. He didn’t bite, however. His smile simply grew and he shifted closer to her, never once removing his gaze from her face.
“I’m Fitzwilliam Darcy, I’m an actor.”
“Oh! Yes, that’s right… I think I’ve seen you in something before.” She continued, acting puzzled almost to the point of exaggeration. His smile remained as he shifted closer to her. She could smell cologne now, and the sweet yet spicy scent of it made her mouth go dry.
“Is that right?”
“I saw one of your films once. I forget which one, though. It’s been a while.” Her voice rang false to her own ears, though he seemed to believe her as he was taken aback that she had only seen one.
“Just one?”
“Yes… I think you were a prince or knight or something, and you were trying to save a girl - Caroline Bingley! I don’t often go to the movies - if you’ve seen one, you’ve seen them all in my opinion.” Internally, Elizabeth was becoming increasingly mortified at herself. It was as if she had been possessed by a babbling idiot seeking to dig her deeper and deeper into an early grave. Darcy, too, seemed shocked at her statement. She saw his mouth open to argue with her, so she beat him to it. “Oh! Of course, I don’t mean any offence, I’m sure your movies are just grand indeed but I myself am not interested in such things. Sure, they’re good enough for your regular Tom, Dick and Harry, but I prefer something less… dumb. The characters on screen are nothing compared to the deep, complex narratives that you see on stage, and the actors don’t really act! They’re essentially performing in a glorified pantomime.”
“So you’re saying that I’m no better at acting than amateurs in panto?” For some reason unknown to Elizabeth, he didn’t seem entirely offended by her. She, on the other hand, was ready to combust. She knew that if Jane or Charlotte were here they would be questioning her sanity.
“I suppose I am.” She replied with all the confidence she could muster. Blessedly, his destination appeared before them and she pulled over. “Here you are, Mr Darcy.”
“Are you telling me you don’t think I’m a real actor, Miss Bennet?”
“That is exactly what I’m saying! Acting means portraying characters written by the best authors in the world, like Shakespeare!”
“And who are you to have these opinions? What makes you so qualified? What do you do?” Darcy snapped. Elizabeth felt her mouth dry up as she registered his questions. Darcy remained in the passenger seat, looking at her with unyielding expectation. There would be no escaping the bed she had made for herself this time. It was time to lie in it.
“I’m… I’m an actress. On the stage.” She looked away from him before she could see triumph light up his eyes.
“And what are you currently acting in?” Her heart sank at his words.
“Well, I’m not in anything at the moment -”
“- how shocking -”
“- but I’m going to be! One day I’ll be a big name in the theatre.”
“Ah, yes, I can see it now,” Darcy mocked, looking into the distance as if he were truly seeing it. “'Elizabeth Bennet in Hamlet! Elizabeth Bennet is Juliet!' What a bright future lies before you Miss Bennet, I can scarcely wait.” Despite the fact that she deserved his words, Elizabeth felt her ire rising with every syllable he uttered. Her anger must have shown on her face, as Darcy grinned victoriously at her.
“Make fun all you want Mr Darcy, so long as you remember that I aspire to be a proper actress, while you resign yourself to being a-a-a glorified mime.” She snapped, leaning across him to throw the passenger side door open. Darcy exited the vehicle and bent into a deep, sweeping bow. His dark hair fell across his face, but he made no move to rearrange it.
“Until next time, fair maiden. Though it pains me to tear myself from your sweet side, I must away! Fare thee well,” he said in an exaggerated Shakespearean tone, punctuating his mockery by slamming the car door. They both froze when they heard a loud ripping sound instead of the bang of the door connecting with the frame. He had trapped what was left of his torn suit jacket in the door, which had ripped it off completely. Darcy sighed and turned on his heel, and Elizabeth prayed that was the last time the two of them ever met.