Dating Mr. Darcy - Kate O'Keeffe Page 0,22
any more weird things to my head.
Chapter 8
I walk down the corridor toward the living room, my feet kicking my petticoat with each step. Despite being determined not to, I feel like a heroine of a period drama. To add to that feeling, when I waltz into the living room, it’s like a scene from Pride and Prejudice itself. About three quarters of the contestants are already dressed in their Regency outfits, and they’re sitting on the sofas and chatting, appearing like they belong in the fancy looking room. All of them have their hair in buns, with curled tendrils around their faces, just like me. It suits most of them, but especially Phoebe, who looks like she was born to be the perfect Regency lady.
I plunk myself next to her and Reggie. “Hello, ladies of the Regency era,” I say with a grin as I take in their costumes. Although Phoebe is dressed identical to me, right down to our matching cornflower blue spencers, somehow she manages to look ten times better than me and ten times more beautiful. “Wow, you two. What a transformation.”
“Who knew we’d be doing this, right?” Reggie says. “It’s kinda fun, but kinda weird, too, don’t y’all think?”
“Weird in what way?” Phoebe asks.
“Do people really want to see us contestants dressed up like we’re in some movie?” she asks.
“The production crew clearly thinks they do,” I reply. “Maybe there’s a market for this kind of thing.”
“Perverts,” Reggie says and I can’t help but giggle.
“Is it considered perverted to get a bunch of women to dress in Regency clothing with their cleavage hoisted up to their chins and film them vying for the attention of one lone man?” I tap my chin. “Hmm. When you put it that way…”
Reggie’s eyes light up. “See? Like I said, it’s perverted.”
Phoebe shakes her head at us. “It’s not in the least. It’s perfect.”
“Let me guess, Phoebe. You think this is super romantic and we all look like elegant ladies from yesteryear.”
“Well, yes,” she admits. “Haven’t you always wanted to be Lizzie Bennet, winning Mr. Darcy’s heart and living happily ever after? I know I have.”
“How do you know they lived happily ever after?” Reggie says. “The book ends with their weddin’. They could have had a miserable marriage, divorced, had affairs. Who knows?”
“He might have turned out gay,” I offer. When Phoebe blinks at me, I add, “He was very close to Mr. Bingley and he was always perfectly groomed.”
Reggie grins. “Good point, darlin’. Good point.”
Phoebe lifts her chin in defiance. “I don’t care what you two say. Lizzie and Mr. Darcy do end up living happily ever after, and nothing either of you can say will change my mind.”
“I can’t believe we didn’t know about this. I think we should’ve been told upfront that this was gonna happen,” Reggie says.
“Heck yes,” I agree. “I wouldn’t have come onto the show if I’d known.”
“I bought an entire new wardrobe of sexy dresses and the like, and now I can’t even wear them,” Reggie complains.
I think of my suitcase, packed to the brim with Timothy activewear and I let out a heavy sigh. I have got to get Sebastian away from the cameras so I can get him to send me home soon. “I know what you mean.”
We spend the next hour sitting together in the large living room, waiting for everyone to get their fittings and for this “training” we’ve been told is about to begin.
One thing I’ve noticed in my short time on this show is that there isn’t a whole lot to do when we’re not filming. Like nothing. No Internet, no social media, no Netflix. Not even a book to distract us. It’s like cramming for finals: all you’re allowed to think about is the show. It’s almost impossible not to get wrapped up in the world they’ve created.
What all this free time does, however, is give me time to devise an exit strategy. Despite secretly enjoying the costume—and I’m not going to delve too deeply into that little gem—I know there’s no point in me hanging around now that I can’t get my label on TV. The best thing I can do now is to get back to work and hope the small amount of TV time I might be given will help us promote Timothy once the show goes to air.
Better that than sitting around here in stays that are digging into my ribs and making my boobs look like a couple of