This is based on the eighties movie starring Melanie Griffith, Sigourney Weaver, and Harrison Ford.
New York City
"This is the last time I can help you, Miss Bennet." The agent's voice was admonishing and slightly reproachful. Elizabeth Bennet flushed and smiled.
"I know, Ms. Johnson. It's just--"
"Did you really call Brian Smalls a pimp?" Liz was surprised.
"Yes, I did. He had set me up with a crack-head pervert who was only looking for an easy lay for the last time. Especially since he told me the man was looking for a new assistant." The older woman looked sympathetic and said,
"I can't blame you, but you must hold onto your temper. This is the fourth time you've been here." Liz looked down at her hands.
"I know, thank you." Ms. Johnson, satisfied that Liz realized the extent of her iniquity, smiled and said,
"Good. Well, as a matter of fact, I have a new request. Caroline Bingley, at Carter and Wells, in Acquisitions." She gave Liz the address and picked up the phone. "Miss Bingley? Rachel Johnson at the Secretary Agency. I have a new prospect. When would a good interview time be? Now? Wonderful. I'll send her over. Elizabeth Bennet. Very presentable. Thank you, Miss Bingley. Good bye." She hung up and looked over at Liz. "You're to go over now." She smiled kindly at the younger woman who so obviously wanted more than she had. "You'll get there, Miss Bennet. Just don't give up." Liz smiled and thanked her.
"How do I look?" Caroline didn't even look up.
"Fine. You might want to rethink the jewelry." She looked up again. "I expect you to call me Caroline, and the coffee machine is to the left. I take mine with a little milk, and one packet of sugar. Understood?" Liz nodded again. "Great. Would you get me some? You can start tomorrow." Liz nodded again, and Caroline shook her hand again.
Liz sighed as she sat on the ferry back to Staten Island, where she had grown up. She fluffed her teased hair and slowly took off her large gold hoop earrings and her three chains and her jingling gold bracelets. She looked at them regretfully for a moment, but then Caroline's image rose in her mind. Clean-cut, elegant, and simple, she thought. Perfect. I will be elegant.
She walked into the apartment she shared with her long-time boyfriend, George Wickham, and called,
"George?" The apartment was silent. She went from room to room until she came to the closed off living room. She opened the door and was almost scared out of her wits by all their friends jumping out at her and yelling,
"SURPRISE!!!" She fell back, her hand on her chest, and then began to laugh with them. She'd almost forgotten it was her birthday.
The party was fun; she talked to her best friend Charlotte Lucas about Charlotte's upcoming marriage to James Goulding, which was taking place in three months. Charlotte and James had lived next door to each other for years-- ever since they were children-- and they figured out about five years ago that they had been wasting time, each having been in love with the other for as long as they could remember. Charlotte and Liz giggled and enjoyed themselves enormously.
"So," Charlotte asked, reclining back on the sofa with a beer in her hand. "How does it feel to be thirty?" Liz thought for a moment.
"You know, people have been asking me that ever since I could talk-- how does it feel to be ___ years old? And I still don't know the answer. The same, pretty much-- only I'm over the hill now." Charlotte scoffed and almost spilled her beer.
"Over the hill? Honey, when the rest of us are under the hill, you still won't even have started. I've been jealous for years-- how come you get to look like you're twenty two? Did you make a pact with the devil, or something?" They laughed.
That night, when everyone had left, Liz tried on the black corset, lace garter-belt, and silk stockings George had given her (again). George, waiting for her in bed, put down his newspaper and gaped.
"You look great." She shrugged.
"I wish you'd give me a sweater, or earrings, or something that I could actually wear outside this apartment."
"That's great, honey, but the pizza's getting cold." Liz subsided. She couldn't help thinking that she was a hell of a lot more important than a pizza, but she shook it off. George was just hungry, that's all.
The next day, Liz knocked on the door of Caroline's office.
"Yes, Liz?"
"Caroline, I have an idea, and you said to come to you?"
"Sure, Liz, what is it?"
"Well, I was thinking-- maybe Alto should buy a radio station." Caroline sighed.
"But Liz, Alto isn't interested in radio. They want a TV station." Liz nodded.
"I know-- but buying into radio would give them a good, solid foot in the media, and it would also prevent that Japanese takeover, because US radio stations cannot be owned by foreigners." Caroline stared at her, interest in her eyes. Then, she put her cool face back on.
"I'll think about it, Liz." Liz smiled and nodded.
Three weeks later, Caroline called her in.
"Liz, would you fix my ski boots, please?" Liz obligingly kneeled and adjusted the straps so they fit Caroline's feet snugly. "Did you call for the reservation?" Liz nodded.
"They said all they can give you is a ground floor room with a queen bed." Caroline stared at her. "Did you say who it was?" Liz looked up, puzzled.
"I said Bingley." Caroline nodded and went to the phone. After a rather convoluted conversation in German, in which she ascertained that the man's wife and children were well, she hung up and said, "It's a tower room with bay windows and a fireplace big enough to stand in." She clumped over to the window seat and lit a cigarette. "It has to be special. I've been seeing this man for some time now, and I think he's going to propose this weekend." Liz nodded and tried to look interested. Caroline, after staring off into the middle distance for a minute, said, "OK, thanks, that'll be all." As Liz turned to go, Caroline stopped her. "Oh, Liz, about that idea of yours, about Alto buying into radio? I tried it out on them, but they definitely want television."