AS THE JANE AUSTEN WORLD TURNS
In the sleepy town of
Meryton, a suburb of the great throbbing metropolis that is known as , live several families. London
This is their story.
Loudspeaker: Dr. Wickham, (sigh) paging Dr. Wickham…
A grinning Dr. George Wickham emerges from a linen closet, zips his pants, smoothes down his hair, and straightens his ascot. Immediately behind him Dr. Charlotte Collins, Proctologist to the Stars, scurries out, kisses his cheek, then disappears down the hall adjusting her granny pants from the rear. Wickham saunters up to the nurses’ station.
Loudspeaker: Take me big boy. You gorgeous but debauched hunk of burning love! You morally corrupt lord of desire! I can’t keep my hands from you, you former soldier of fortune now turned Gyneologist, you.
Wickham: I don’t suppose you could you turn the speaker off for a moment; please?
Nurse: Oh! Yeah. Sure.
Nurse: Here take my underwear - these are from March, I love that month. Oh, you Adonis, you hubba hubba, you…
A hallow laugh rings out from the Doctors lounge. Ha,ha,ha,ha!
Wickham turns to see the beautiful but evil Caroline Bingley leaning seductively in the doorway, one hand on her hip, holding a cigarette (the hand not the hip), the other hand is braced high above her head on the doorframe. Smoke seeps out alluringly through her nostrils and one ear. (Suddenly she coughs discreetly into her elbow, then takes another drag)
Caroline: It’s always the same, isn’t it Wicky. The women drop at your boots no matter how despicable, no matter how unscrupulous, no matter how decadent you are. I like that in a man.
Wickham: Caroline Bingley, as I live and breathe and drive a barouche. When did you slink back into town? The last I saw of you, you were screaming at the top of your lungs, gripping onto Darcy’s leg as he was forced to drag you up the aisle to his wedding with the beautiful, virtuous, smart and subtly sexy Elizabeth Bennet. As I remember several times you tried to brace your feet against a pew only to have people stomping on your ankles. Wasn’t that humiliation enough for you…Caroline Bingley?
Caroline: Why do you always call me by both names? Is it to emphasize my lack of marital status? Are you that cruel?
Wickham: Seriously? I thought that was your whole first name – Carolinebingley. I thought you were Lithuanian or something. My bad. Well, I suppose you’ve heard I divorced that tramp of a wife of mine, Lydia Bennet, youngest of the Bennet sisters and least likely to count to ten without removing her shoes. Is that why you’re here? What do you want with me, Caroline, as if I didn’t know how incredibly desirable I am.
Caroline: I want you to do away with someone for me, Wicky. (Overwrought music and really intense closeup) I want
Bennet Darcy gone. Elizabeth
(feet don't fail me now)
Wickham: You must be mad, woman! You want me to kill my former sister-in-law, the female I loved for about twenty seconds and then dumped for 100 pounds a year, the sweetest gem on the earth, the goodest egg, the bestest … Caroline, you’re drooling blood.
Caroline: Oops. Sorry. I have a touch of...narcolepsy. I’m taking Ibuprofen for it. Didn’t wear my bonnet one day and it rained. For a short time I thought I was Anne Boleyn. It was just a sore throat. Getting back to HER, I didn’t exactly say kill, did I? Maybe a kind of drowning thing, or you could slice off an arm, let her bleed…? No? You’re not her Gynecologist, are you? I didn’t think so. Too bad. Those specula’s can be a tad painful if you know what you’re doing. I dated an oral surgeon once who dabbled on the side…But I digress. How about an accidental sword impaling? Woodchuck attack? Well, think of something! I’ll make it worth your while.
Wickham: What would be worth my while, Caroline Bingley (sorry) Caroline?
Caroline pulls Wickhim by his
Ascot into the Doctor’s lounge and closes the door.
Caroline: Let me show you with the 82nd Airborne taught me. Have any Cheesewhip and a hanging wicker chair?