"Darcy, you must come to Lady Susan's tonight," his cousin Richard said, pulling him aside at White's. "Apparently she has acquired a rare prime article, fresh from the country. An innocent of genteel birth."
"Poor girl," said Darcy, though his eyes registered mild interest. "What misfortunes must have brought her to this pass. She is not too young, is she?"
"Oh no," Richard reassured him, "Nearly arrived at her majority."
"And still an innocent?" Darcy's eyebrows rose. "She must indeed be of gentle birth. Whose hands will she fall into, I wonder?"
"She could fall into yours, if you bid high enough," encouraged Richard. "It would be a good sight better than if old Fotherby got her, as he means to do."
"Fotherby?" Darcy exclaimed, his features contorted in disgust. "That vile, ancient court card? With his habits and proclivities, she'll be fit for nothing after a month of his attentions. If she doesn't throw herself into the Thames to avoid that fate."
"Clearly then, it is your obligation to save the poor damsel. Lord knows you're the only one who could outbid him."
"It's only her virginity that's up for offer," Darcy pointed out. "After that she must take anything that comes to her. Though unlikely she will meet anyone of a lower station than hers at Lady Susan's."
"Aren't you full of solicitude for an unknown girl," Richard teased. "I wonder if you mean to bid for her after all?"
"If you're after securing her a better introduction to harlotry than Fotherby, I'm not sure I'm the Prince Charming for it. You want a sensitive, gentle man to do the job. Someone like yourself, Richard."
"Unfortunately, I lack the resources for such a noble, disinterested act of salvation."
"Are you suggesting I spend my blunt buying you a bit of muslin for an evening? Is that what this was all about?"
Richard grinned. "And you came to it all on your own, too! I declare, I am destined for Tactical Strategy and a General's stripes at least."
Darcy knit his brows, frowning. "At the very least, do come with me, old man," his cousin encouraged. "It will be amusing watching the pack salivating over a pretty fresh piece."
Darcy sighed. "I'll come with you. Though I've a premonition it won't end well."
A charming young woman with a dimpled smile and a suggestive décolletage let the men into Lady Susan's townhouse. Tastefully furnished, it looked little different than any town home of quality, and though a few streets removed from the strictly fashionable sector, was not in a neighborhood that was wholly contemptible. It was as common for any of its male occupants to greet each other at their clubs as it was for them to meet at Lady Susan's, though perhaps they wouldn't speak of it as readily outside its richly-appointed walls.
Darcy and Richard followed the beautiful little whore into a sitting room where quite a few men were already gathered. Clearly word had spread.
"Why, Darcy, what brings you?" Called Lord Branson. "It must be a twelvemonth since I've last seen you here. Has Susan's communication sufficiently intrigued you to finally shake you out of your uncharacteristic celibacy?"
Darcy smiled at his friend. "I'm here to watch the sport, Bran, not take part in it."
"Ah, yes," Branson nodded, lifting a skeptical eyebrow. "Let us first see how beautiful this new doxy is, and then we'll see how long you fare in the same room with a desirable object and the means to acquire it."
"I don't mean to be selfish, I assure you." Darcy said laughing.
They were interrupted by a plump blonde in a lace overdress, the slip of which she seemed to have forgotten to don beneath it, together with her chemise. She proffered a tray of champagne flutes and fluttered her eyelashes at the men. "Here to view the new wares, are we, gentlemen? And forgotten all about us girls, your favorites?" She pouted prettily.
"Now now, Rose," said Colonel Fitzwilliam, encircling her about the waste and taking the last flute from her tray. "What's all this? Jealous of your new sister? She must be a beauty of the highest order to inspire you with even the smallest insecurity about your as-yet-unsurpassed charms!"
She looked up at him coyly, laughing, "Indeed, I am not jealous of her, though she is certainly pretty. It is her power - that she can draw all of you here with the mere hint of her presence!"
"But surely you once drew the men in a similar way when you first came to be here?" Lord Branson said, thinking to reassure her. "It is merely the novelty, not her charms, of which we have as yet heard nothing."
"No, I never made a splashing debut," said Rose, a trifle subdued. "I came down to London a ruined woman, one of many seeking asylum from the streets. Eliza is an innocent, a truly rare thing in a house such as this. And genteel too - her father was a gentleman! She will fetch a considerable price, I am sure. I would hate her for it, though I cannot, for she is so kind and good to everyone."
Darcy's heart skipped a beat at the mention of the girl's name. "Poor girl!" He could not bear to repeat the name, her name, not in a house such as this. If she could see me now, he thought, how justified would she feel were all her animadversions on my character. "What brought a gently bred young woman to such a pass?"
"Well, I can't tell you exactly," Rose shrugged, apparently unconcerned. "I can't keep the story straight, and she can't tell it straight through without crying. But it involves someone's ruin - not her own - and an untimely death, I believe. More I cannot tell you."
"Had she no other recourse?" Asked Darcy gently. "No family, no connections to assist her in their time of need?"
"There certainly were once. I've no notion what happened to them. Oh, yes! She'd had several marriage proposals, and refused them! That was before she knew just how much she would regret not settling for security. Wouldn't sacrifice her belief that she would only marry for love! And now look at her," Rose sneered, "offering that love to many men, and no hope for marriage!"
"Rose," Fitzwilliam chided her softly, "cruelty doesn't become you."
Rose blushed and turned away from the group. "Take a look at her before you decide in her favor!" she flung over her shoulder.
"Jealous cat," Richard smiled, amused.
"I confess I am anxious to see this rare piece of innocence," said Brandon. "Can you conceive teaching such a girl about love, being the first man who ever touched her? And gently born - it is just what you'd experience in marriage - an excellent trial, if you will. Yes, she'll fetch a good price."
"I just pray Fotherby doesn't get her," scowled Darcy, "She seems to have had enough misfortunes in her life that she should at least be spared that!"
They looked over to where Fotherby stood, bouncing excitedly on the balls of his feet, eyes shining with anticipation. His heavily corseted coat did nothing to obscure his girth, and though thankfully he no longer used paint on his face to complement the ancient styles he persisted in wearing, his sallow skin and bulbous nose may have benefited from it.
The men were spared further contemplation on the unpleasantness of the man's person and habits by the entrance into the room of the proprietress.
"Welcome, gentlemen," Lady Susan murmured, "please be seated. If you are all ready...?" She walked among the company, greeting her guests, disposing them onto chairs and couches, and shrewdly assessing her audience while appearing to be nothing more than a solicitous hostess.
After seeing her patrons comfortably seated, she took up a standing position at the back of the room, the better to oversee events and gauge reactions. She was therefore in an ideal position to witness the forthcoming scene, which was talked of for months to come.
At the appointed moment, the door was opened by two girls in servant dress, and a young woman passed into the room. Her bearing was elegant, her dress refined, her hair exquisitely arranged. Her eyes were cast down at first, the blush on her cheeks testament to the mortification attached to her present position. But at length she lifted her eyes, and while most of the assembled were charmed by the bright resolve in them, two men at least were struck dumb, before springing to their feet.
When her eyes lit upon Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam advancing towards her, the color drained from the young lady's face. It was Elizabeth Bennet.
Author's Note: I've got the next 1000 words written but nothing beyond that - I actually have NO idea how this story should proceed. We embark, my friends, upon a collaboration! You supply the plot, I supply the story. Thoughts, ideas, plot bunnies - in the comments, if you please :)
Ordinary constructive criticism is welcome, as are encomiums and accolades, as usual.