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But they seemed very interested in the process of making a movie. They had gone utterly silent when Perez yelled “Settle!” and they had stayed out of the way of the production staff. In fact, the twenty teenagers had caused far less disruption to the set than one aging diva.
Darcy managed to start a moderately interesting conversation about recently released movies, which gave his aunt fewer opportunities to complain. Just as he thought he might have gotten her into a better mood, Elizabeth reappeared.
Elizabeth smiled ingratiatingly. “Mrs. de Bourgh, would you be willing to chat with the teens from the homeless shelter for a few minutes? They’d be thrilled to meet a Hollywood legend like you.”
Oh no. Darcy could already anticipate the train crash.
Aunt Catherine sniffed. “No. I don’t approve of their kind.”
Elizabeth stiffened. “You mean gays and lesbians?”
The older woman regarded Elizabeth steadily. “No, teenagers.”
Elizabeth’s mouth dropped open. “What?”
Is it too late to pretend I don’t know Aunt Catherine? he wondered.
“I don’t care for children, and teenagers are a type of child.” Seated beside his mistress like a trained dog, Collins nodded sagely.
“You don’t like children?”
Aunt Catherine pursed her lips. “I don’t see the appeal. All children do is consume valuable resources, such as time and money, and they give nothing back. They start out as helpless, squalling, pooping bundles. Then there’s the ambulatory disease vector stage. During the school-age years, all they care about are Bob Sponges and games with balls. The teenage years are the worst. They start demanding keys to the car and college educations, as though they have some claim to your money. It’s one big racket.”
Aunt Catherine extended a bony finger toward Elizabeth. “In fact, you look suspiciously young yourself.”
“I’m twenty-two,” Elizabeth said.
“Hmph. That’s acceptable. You can quit sponging off your parents and make some kind of contribution to society.” The older woman settled back into her chair. “But don’t come looking to me for some mentoring.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Elizabeth said faintly.
Aunt Catherine stood, prompting Collins to surge to his feet. “I shall retire to my dressing room for a nap.”
Collins smiled obsequiously. “Excellent idea, ma’am. I am sure you will feel most refreshed after your slumber.”
She strolled away, holding her head high like visiting royalty, while Collins scurried behind her. Elizabeth gave the others a bemused look.
Caroline raised an eyebrow. “She has a point. Children are rather…messy.”
“Is your aunt for real?” Elizabeth asked Darcy.
“She’s not making it up, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“No wonder…” Her voice trailed off as she stared at him.
“No wonder what?” Darcy asked.
“Never mind.” Elizabeth strolled away with the air of someone who had figured something out while Darcy had the disconcerting sense that he had missed something.
***
After checking again on the True Colors group, Elizabeth set off to find lunch and Charlotte. This was the first moment of downtime she’d experienced all day, and she wanted to share her insight about Darcy. Who knew that having a stick up your butt could be hereditary? The conversation hadn’t gotten far before Bill Collins emerged from Mrs. de Bourgh’s dressing room, carefully bearing her dog on a little velvet cushion.
“Oh, what a darling little dog!” Charlotte exclaimed. “May I hold him?”
Elizabeth expected a long disquisition about who was important enough to handle the great Cecil B. DeMille. Instead, Bill blushed and stammered, “I-I suppose it would b-be all right. J-Just for a moment.” He lifted the dog gently from the cushion and placed him carefully in Charlotte’s hands. “Here, let me show you the proper way to hold him, but perhaps it’s best if you sit down first.”
Charlotte sat, enchanted, while a well-groomed dust mop rested on her lap and deigned to be petted. She crooned to the dog, telling him how cute he was.
