Jane was the hero of the night. Against every rule in the cabaret, she had received a rose from a customer. True the rose was the cheap kind everyone could buy ten times every night while wandering around the Champs Elysées; but it was there nonetheless, proof that someone had been convincing enough about the purity of his thoughts that a waiter or a waitress had taken the risk. Only her sister and their closest friend had been allowed to read the card, though.

“Oh, it’s so sweet! What if it was yours as you called him?”

“Or maybe the connard taken by a powerful feeling of regret for his unjust words!” Charlotte was playing the remorseful with a lot of empathy.

“What’s his name, déjà?”

“Charles Bingley, and no, I won’t call him! But his message was so sweet, you mustn’t make fun of him,” she admonished with a scolding finger.

“Okay Mummy!”

The three giggling ladies exited, Jane holding her rose like a flag. Charlotte spotted Richard with two men, who were obviously acquaintances of his. She couldn’t see them well under the street-lamp lights but didn’t think she knew them. She didn’t recall him talking about bringing some business partners either, and anyway, they tried to conceal the name of her employer at his office: not by shame about what she was doing, but to prevent any misplaced offer for her or her colleagues. The prejudices around her job were very strong and she had long understood that hiding was more peaceful than arguing. Well, if they’re there, they know! She waved at him.

“He, Mon coeur, look at what Jane got tonight!”

The three ladies were still not yet close to the guys and Jane displayed proudly her flower.

“Hey, Honey. Let me introduce you to my cousin and a friend! Wow, is that a rose you have Jane? I thought it was forbidden.”

The ladies had now reached the men and Charlotte kissed Bonsoir Richard.

“Remember, Mon coeur, we’re in France, rules are made to be over-ruled!”

The last answer was completely lost on four people of their group.

Charles and William had recognised the rose. From what Richard had just said, a rose offering was not a common happening. It had to be Charles’s and the fair one had to be Angie Sweetness.

Charles didn’t know what to do. He felt like he couldn’t breathe any longer while his heart was beating wildly in his chest. In the dim light, she was even more handsome than with her make-up and wig. He couldn’t utter a word.

William was astounded. There were not so many dancers and he absentmindedly calculated that the probability had been around 5% that Richard’s Charlotte was Angie, and under 1% that they would meet the real Angie. He kept staring at her, not knowing what to do. He had been ready to meet Charlotte but, if one dancer could be normal, he was pretty sure that she was an exception. He braced himself for the stupid conversation that was sure to follow.

Jane and Lizzie had recognised the men that had been bad-mouthing them at the beginning of the second show. Sure enough, when Richard broke their kiss, Charlotte’s expression showed the same surprise. One of Richard’s friends was the prick and they would soon know which.

Jane felt ill at ease. They had, after all, been eavesdropping. She knew that a lot of people didn’t understand that their job was only dancing. They had just heard someone voicing his prejudices; well, it happened, didn’t it? Her heart raced as she realised that the blond man she had been fantasising about was standing in front of her. She was about to be introduced to him. And then what? Was he the prick? Was he going to be a snob? His look was not at all condemning but he was staring. What was the matter? Had she forgotten a faux-cil*? She couldn’t detach her eyes from his. It was like her world was constrained in a tunnel between two points: him and her. She remained locked in his gaze.

Elizabeth felt hot and cold at the same time. Cold as she knew one of this two gentlemen was a fucking connard, as Charlotte had called him. She was about to make him pay for his little outburst, the Hell with him being Richard’s friend or family. Hot because the dark haired one, who towered over her in spite of her height, still managed to unsettle her core. Outside she was more than able to remain cool but she was burning inside. She couldn’t understand her reaction. Once again, under her tee-shirt, denim jacket and yellow rain-suit, she felt goosebumps on her arms. She wasn’t happy to see him, not happy at all.

And then, she thought back about what he had said, about what they had done, about the good laugh they had had afterwards… and she looked at Charlotte who happened to look at her with wide-opened eyes… and she started laughing.

And Charlotte followed suit.

And Jane’s tunnel widened until the whole world re-entered her world and she smiled at her sister and friend. She exchanged a you-know-those-two-there’s-no-way-they-can-behave look with Richard who smiled at his companions.

“Will, Bing, as you have already fathomed, the hysterical chestnut one is Charlotte. The other hysterical one is Elizabeth Bennet and the sane one is her sister Jane. They’re English so don’t feel ashamed about your inability to speak French. Those three ladies are very talented and each of them has her own solo in the show.” Turning to the ladies, he waited for them to be wiping away their tears and said: “Honey, Babeth, Jane, here are some spectators of your show that also happened to be my cousin William Darcy and his very good friend Charles Bingley.”

His last words unleashed a new roar of laughter from Charlotte and Elizabeth. Charles Bingley, Richard’s friend was Charles Bingley. They couldn’t stand up any longer and went to a tree to lean against it and try to regain their composure.

Jane was shocked. Her tunnel had come back in an instant. Her sweet admirer had embodied in her physical fantasy. She had been right. He hadn’t been the prick. And she now understood his look. She started to walk to him, held out her hand and said:

“Charles, I’m delighted to meet you. And let me thank you for the flower: your message meant very much to me.”

He took hold of her hand, raised it to his lips and reverently kissed it. “Jane, you’re an angel. You’re even more perfect than on-stage. Thank you for existing.”

This movie scene had stopped short the ladies’ laughter. Both were staring at Jane and her more than unusual behaviour. What was this? Love at first sight?

Elizabeth regrouped first and she deliberately headed to Richard.

“Sorry, Ricky, Charlotte will explain you.” And she cheek-kissed him in the French way.

Charlotte had followed her and gone to William. “William is it? William, I’m sorry for this outburst. It was very unladylike of us. We usually don’t behave that way! Anyway, I’m Charlotte and I’m very happy to meet Richard’s favourite cousin at last. You appeared so perfect that I’ve always thought he had invented you, but it seemed I was wrong.” She addressed him one of her irresistible smiles and went back to her boyfriend, who welcomed her with another kiss.

Elizabeth was holding her hand out to Will. “Hello, I’m Elizabeth.”

As soon as he took her hand, he understood who she was, who she had been during the show; there had been more than three solos but he knew then and there that the energetic brunette whose hand he was shaking was the black-wigged one. He knew it by the tingling he felt, by the instinctive reaction of his groin, by his sudden inability to speak. Shit, if at least she had been French, I could have pretended I don’t speak the language.

His muteness confirmed Lizzy’s mind that her - fortunately un-confessed – fantasy was the prick. And she understood his keeping her hand in his firm grip as a way of flirting. So you’re not against picking one of us for the night, after all? Well, I’m gonna teach you how to play. She shot him a dazzling smile and went on: “So you’re Richard’s cousin. It’s true that he always says great things about you. I’m delighted to meet you.” She took back her hand he had finally released and turned to her sister.

“Jane, Jane, I’m not sure you’ve greeted William.”

Jane fought to understand her sister’s words. Charles’s behaviour showed the same struggle. Finally she turned to William and shook hands with him while Charles was doing the same with Elizabeth and Charlotte, congratulating both for their performance.

“Honey, we had made plans to go and have a drink. I’d be happy to have Jane and Babeth with us.”

Charlotte exchanged a look with her friends. Jane’s opinion was obvious. She had already gone back to Charles’s side – or was it the opposite? – and they were already engrossed in contemplating each other. For some unfathomable reason of hers, Elizabeth seemed to be quite in favour of the plan. She was slowly but deliberately getting closer to William.

“D’accord, Mon coeur. Where do we go?”

“Well, actually, we’re staying at the George V. The bar is opened all night for the guests. Why don’t we walk there? It’s not far away.”

Charlotte and Elizabeth exchanged a knowing look. Their last doubt had left. This was indeed, the prick’s deep voice.

“Bonne idée!“

“Wait, what do we do for the car?” Elizabeth interrupted. The dancers who so wished used a nearby private garage.

“A car? Living in Paris?” William didn’t try to hide the irony in his tone. Charlotte and Richard looked at him with open astonishment, neither believing his rudeness.

Elizabeth flashed a despising smile. In a fake sweet tone, she answered “William, has it occurred to you that I might not live in Paris? Has it occurred to you that, unless we’d live nearby, considering the lateness of the end of the show, we would have to take our car back? Or maybe you don’t know that the métro** is not something particularly safe in the wee hours, especially when you’re a good-looking woman?”

Charlotte understood that her friend was about to be distastefully rude. She cut her mid-sentence. “Jane and Babeth live in Rueil, it’s a medium-size town in the nearby suburb. Why they chose not to live in Paris is beyond me but I must say that it’s very close and that they have a very nice flat in small town-centre à la française.”

Elizabeth didn’t take up their usual quarrel, she only replied with a smile: “I don’t want to appear wimpy but I don’t want Jane and I to have to come back to pick it up. Why don’t you go ahead and I’ll try to find a spot closer to the hotel?”

“And then you’ll have the same issue. According to our taxi drivers it’s near impossible to find a spot in this area, that’s why they always stop in the middle of the street.” William objected sensibly in a dry voice. He had apparently found nothing wrong in his previous statement.

“Yes, and to Hell with the other cars!” Elizabeth voiced softly her ill-opinion of the Parisian taxi drivers.

“Why don’t you leave your car here? I’ll walk you back to it. That way, you’ll be safe.” Charles grabbed the opportunity to be with his angel as long as possible.

“Oh, Charles, that’s very sweet of you!” In any other mouth, those words would have caused another roar of laughter from Elizabeth. From her sister’s they seem the most natural ones.

“Okay, that’s settled, then. Come along, the drizzle has started again.”

Author’s notes:

* a “faux-cil” is a fake eye-lashes

** the “métro” is the Parisian tube. If you go to Paris, their website is quite well made – but in French: RATP

*** Still in French, if you want to have an idea of where Jane and Lizzy live: Rueil Malmaison

Crazy Horse - Jane and Charles