Part 1
You could say that the Longbourn Playhouse was an off-Broadway theatre company, and you'd be right. You could also call it off-off, or even off-off-off, and you'd still be right. The Longbourn Playhouse was in Pennsylvania, a couple of hours from New York City. Tom Bennet's father had founded it some fifty years ago, and it had grown into a respected, though rather low-budget, theatre company. In these days of blockbuster films and thrill rides, however, the Longbourn Playhouse, like many other small regional theatre companies, was in trouble.
As Lizzie pulled into the staff lot, around the back of the theatre building, she noticed a rather beaten-up looking pickup truck. She wondered whose it was, as she didn't recognize it. The theatre staff was pretty small; she knew everyone there, as well as what car they drove.
She needn't have wondered long. Her younger sister, Lydia, having stubbed out her cigarette when she saw Lizzie's car, was only too willing to share what gossip she knew, as usual. "Lizzie!" she cried, rushing up to the car before Lizzie had even climbed out. "Wait till you see the new carpenter that Dad's hired! You are going to die. He is just so-o-o cute!"
"New carpenter?" Lizzie's brow furrowed in thought as she shouldered her bag. "Since when can we afford to hire another carpenter?" Box office receipts from the recent production of 'The Fantasticks' had been good, but she had no idea that they had been that good.
Lydia shrugged, waving off the question. "You know I don't know anything about the money stuff. Ask Mary. Or better yet-" her eyes lit up that this thought- "ask Dad. Something's going on, I think, but he's not telling me what it is. But you ask him; I know he'll tell you."
"Good idea," Lizzie murmured as she walked past Lydia to the stage door. Instead of going into the costume shop, as usual, she headed for the front of the theatre, to the Artistic Director's office. Mr. Bennet was already there, just as Lizzie knew he would be. He had joked once that he should set up a cot there, since he spent so much time there. Lizzie couldn't blame him for all the time he spent going over the accounts with Mary, trying to figure out what shows they could afford to do. She knew he'd much rather be here, in the theatre his family created, than at home with his star struck wife, who read 'Daily Variety' and 'American Theatre' and wondered why the Longbourn Playhouse was never mentioned.
Since it was early in the day, Lizzie found her father with a cup of coffee in his hand, scanning the morning paper.
"Ah, good morning, Lizzie. Is something wrong?" he asked, noting her troubled expression.
"I don't know." Lizzie dropped her bag to the floor and seated herself in the chair across from her father's desk. "Lydia tells me you've hired a new carpenter. Are you sure we can afford that? You were just telling me a couple months ago that I may have to let Maria go, and now we're adding staff? What's going on?"
Mr. Bennet smiled. "All very good questions, my child." He rummaged around in his in-box until he found the paper he was looking for. "I didn't want to tell anyone about this until the plans were finalized. That's why I've kept you in the dark, my dear. But look this over-" he slid the paper across the table to his daughter- "and tell me what you think."
It was a letter. A short letter, all on one side of the paper. Her eyes jumped to the name at the bottom and she let out a gasp.
"Charles Bingley? As in 'Autumn in Netherfield' Charles Bingley?" Charles Bingley was a playwright. 'Autumn in Netherfield' had recently broken box office records on Broadway and had won four Tonys last year. Charles Bingley was a hot playwright.
Mr. Bennet Nodded. "Read on, Lizzie."
Lizzie forced her eyes to the top of the page and read the whole letter through. When she was done, she looked at her father in disbelief. "Is this for real? Is this really happening?" Mr. Bennet nodded. "But why us? Why here?"
Mr. Bennet shrugged and picked up his coffee cup, taking another sip. "I can imagine it would be a lot of pressure on the poor man, his first play being so successful. Now everything that follows has to be just as good, if not better. He's probably looking for a nice, quiet, out-of-of-the-way theatre to develop this new work." He chuckled. "Say what you like about the Longbourn, but we certainly are that." Lizzie's chuckle echoed her father's.
"So this was the first letter? What else has been nailed down?"
"Well, they'll be arriving in a couple of weeks. I believe he has most of the major roles cast out of New York already, but he'll cast some of the minor ones locally. Make sure we mention that to Jane. His sister's the lead; I believe it's meant to be a vehicle for her. Otherwise, he and the director both want the rest of the show -designers and all- to be done here."
"Wow." Lizzie sat for a moment to let it all sink in. Their normally dormant summer season was now going to be spent developing a new Charles Bingley play! What a great experience; what great publicity for the Longbourn when 'Having a Ball' had its eventual Broadway opening! But- "That still doesn't explain the new carpenter."
"Oh, didn't I mention that? They made a contribution to the Longbourn. A pretty large one. I have a feeling they like our facilities, but realize our staff was too small to meet their needs. I'm not asking, just gratefully accepting. Keep Maria. Hire another stitcher, if you like. We're going to be very busy this summer."
A little dazed by all this news, Lizzie stood up to go. She turned at the door.
"Who's directing it, by the way? You never mentioned that."
"I didn't? Strange, because that's the best part. William Darcy is directing."
Lizzie walked back to the costume shop, her mind reeling. The Darcys were a very old acting family. The histories of theatre, film, and television were peppered with the Darcy name.
A new Bingley play, directed by a Darcy! Lizzie couldn't help but let out a giggle as she set her things down on her desk. What a windfall for the Longbourn! She picked up the phone and called her best friend and favorite costume designer.
"Hello, Charlotte? You don't have any shows for the summer yet, do you? Have I got a gig for you!"