Author's note: My very first posted piece of JAFF. This idea came to me while listening to the radio. Inspired by Cake's song: Short Skirt/Long Jacket (www dot youtube dot com/watch?v=u7aDstrDMf0), I began to wonder, what would it take to get a taciturn Darcy to sing a Karaoke version of his list of traits required to be considered an accomplished woman?
It's rated T due to some mild language, and some implied SV, although it is very loosely implied - more like suspected even, but not confirmed. I hope nobody takes offense.
After writing this piece, it came to my attention, that it may be time I accept that there truly is "nothing new under the sun". It would appear that it's all just variations on a theme. P&P, Karaoke, the song...
I was honored to discover that I have shared similar thoughts and ideas with some of my favorite JAFF authors. I sincerely wish to someday achieve even a trace of their skills with the written word, but in the meantime, I'll simply hope that you all enjoy this, my first attempt at my own variation on these themes.
Cake
"You know, it was just too easy! It's actually so much more satisfying when he makes me work for it. When he's that easy it takes all the fun out of it. But if I'd given it a moment's thought I would have anticipated what a piece of cake it would be; as far as I can tell, he's always been that way when it comes to her.
Funny, a year ago I would have confidently laid down both my fortune AND my father's title as odds on any bet that William F. Darcy, corporate mogul and emotional man of steel, could be manipulated so easily by anyone, even me. But leave it to my stoic cousin to prove to me, a cynical, hardened war veteran, that the old adage must be true… it really is amazing what extremes a man will go to when he's arse-over-elbow in love with a woman.
But wait a minute, I'm getting away from myself, and you're just coming in here at the end. I forget, you weren't there with him and Bingley when it all started, or even when I came in, at the middle – before he'd acknowledged it. Ha! Funny that, before he even realized that he'd begun to fall in love with her, he was already lost. Good thing I got such entertainment out of it at the time, he's taken all the fun out of it for me since! I ask you, where's the challenge in an easy mark?
Okay, okay, I'll start over and try to fill in some of the blanks. But you'll have to understand that I was gone for a good portion of it. When Will went off to help Bingley with his start-up in Hertfordshire, I was just leaving for my last tour of duty in Afghanistan. So keep in mind that all I had to go by were Will's letters, cryptic as they were, and Bingley's less than fuzzy memories, as distracted as he was by Jane at the time.
What I've been able to piece together is that the guys swooped down on this little town of Meryton, where Netherfield (that's Bingley's venture capital firm) had invested in a small bio-tech startup. As you would expect, Will's all business – ready to work 18 hour days, sleep in the office, shower in the locker room at the plant – you know how he gets. It's that single minded focus of his, the way he approaches everything.
Meanwhile, Bingley's head is running off in a million directions. Yeah, it's his firm, and more to the point, his money on the line, but this is Bingley, right? So on top of the excitement he's got going about the potential for this company, he's in a new place, surrounded by new people, and to his very great pleasure, he's begun hearing enticing reports of some of the exceptional women in this shire. You can only imagine what he was like at that point – dealing with all the things that really get him going - all at once. Will cracked me up in one of his earliest letters, said Chas was acting like a bleedin' puppy, he was so excited.
Can you just imagine the two of them, together like this? Talk about yin and yang! So Bingley's trying to get Will to take the blinders off for even a minute, and Will's ready to cuff Chas to a chair in one of the lab's sterile rooms, just to get him to focus for five minutes straight. Damn, I wish I could have had a hidden camera in place in those early days. Just trying to envision it is priceless!
So Will, consummate negotiator that he is, agrees to a deal. Bingley must have been in rare form, even for him, or Will must have been truly desperate. There's no other way I can imagine him conceding to these stipulations, but I've had eye witness reports that it happened, so it's got to be true.
Bingley focused, solely and wholeheartedly on nothing but work, sleep, and nutrition (but only as deemed necessary to maintain functionality) for 6 days straight. I KNOW! Almost too impossible to believe, right? But apparently Will's analogy of Chas being like a puppy wasn't too far off. Almost any puppy can be trained when there's a master dangling a treat in front of them.
So what was the reward? This is the truly unbelievable part of the deal. You are going to be amazed at what I tell you next. Chas delivered on his end, and got his prize. Late on the night of Bingley's sixth day of hard labor, they went out.
What do you mean, 'so'? Let me finish! It was a Saturday night, and they went out, to the town's one and only dance club. HA! Yes! William F. Darcy went to a back-water dance club on a Saturday night. Not only that, but, by the time he'd released Chas from the office for good behavior and they'd actually made it to town, it was almost 2300.
Will's description of the place was just what you'd picture. By the time they got there, it was a crush of bodies, the walls were literally throbbing with the DJ's bass beat, and most of the lovely people of the shire were well on their way to plastered. Just Will's scene, wouldn't you agree?
Well, obviously, Chas was completely in his element. Legend has it that he stopped still just 6 meters in the door, gave the room a 30 second once over, and bee-lined his way to the hottest chick in the place. For Chas, the rest – as they say – is history. That was the first time he laid eyes on Jane Bennet, and as far as I can tell, the last time he ever even glanced at another woman. Of course, there were those longs months of insecurity and indecision, on both their parts, but that was the official beginning of their 'Happily Ever After', without a doubt.
Unfortunately, Will's path to HEA has been rather twisted. I'd expect nothing less from my repressed cousin. Would you?
Let me explain. No, no, there's just too much. Real quick, before they get back, let me just sum up. Will followed Bingley into that club, house music pounding his head, social anxiety twisting his gut, and unwittingly launched himself into the world's most inauspicious courtship. Poor guy, if he only knew!
He was clueless. Completely and totally without a clue as to how to win the heart and head of a worthy girl. If he'd only just realized early on how truly worthy she is, maybe he would have saved himself months of grief. But Will's never been the type to just grant someone the benefit of the doubt, and apparently, neither was she.
He was so blinded by her that he couldn't even see how hard and fast he was falling. I saw it, in his letters. He thought he was being so subtle, but to anyone who knows Will, it would have hit like a ton of bricks. He wrote about her family (crass), her friends (lackluster), her relations (ridiculous), her father's business (mediocre), her devotion to her sister (unparalleled), her mind (brilliant), her humor (witty), her personal habits (exemplary), her reading material (impressive), her figure (athletic), her hair (luxurious), her lips (luscious), and her eyes… oh her eyes. I can't remember the number of times he attempted to describe her eyes. I can only recall a handful of the adjectives he used for those eyes of hers. He started out simply enough: first they were beautiful, then fine, but then he started throwing in words like burning, sparkling, luminous, captivating; by the time he got to captivating, I knew he was a goner.
Meanwhile, (I was informed months later) the light of his life seemed to be forming a less than stellar opinion of him. In all his classic awkwardness, Will managed to insult, unnerve, and disparage the very woman he had placed on a pillar high above all others of her sex. He lost his heart to her while at the very same time, she was swiftly losing all patience with him.
Then, quite suddenly, it all stopped. I didn't have a clue what was going on, because I don't just mean that he ceased to mention her in his letters; all word from him came to a complete standstill. The emails, the packages, even his usual abundance of press coverage - it all just stopped. It was like Will Darcy had dropped off the face of the earth.
It was unsettling to say the least, and there I was, a world away, with very limited means of communication at my disposal. You know getting anything out of those Afghan mountains is sketchy at best. But I tried.
I spent a good deal of time trying to reach him directly, but got no response whatsoever. Finally I tried asking my folks, Georgie, even my brother. Anyone that I thought of that might have had some reason to cross his path. I didn't want to raise any red flags, especially with our family, but I was starting to panic. Will had always been my most faithful correspondent. In all my years of service, he's never neglected, let alone forsaken me, and I couldn't imagine anything that could have made him willingly do so then.
Word finally started to trickle in from various sources. Indifferent acquaintances had no news of him, but asked me to assume that 'no news is good news, right'? Waste of my time, they apparently don't know Will at all. My brother (barely more than an indifferent acquaintance) reported seeing him barrel-ass out of some event or other, but hadn't exchanged words with the man. My parents reported their aggravation at his turning down their requests for his presence, but it was from Georgie that I got the most, and it did nothing to bring me peace of mind.
Georgie wrote with great emotion and trepidation. She was devastated, but hadn't wanted to alarm me. It seemed that I was not the only one that Will was neglecting, he had apparently all butforsaken the insecure, teenage sister who just happened to be living under the very same roof as him, and she had NO IDEA why. The pain she expressed in that letter was palpable, and my heart went out to her.
Honestly, I think that if my tour hadn't been up in the next week, I might have willingly faced a court marshal. The two most important people in my life were suffering. I had to do something to help, and there was nothing I could do from that rats' hole I was stationed in. I had to get home, I had to be there for them, because they sure as hell weren't there for each other!
My first morning on home soil, I laid siege to the Darcy townhouse. I enlisted the butler and housekeeper as my aides de camp, and stormed the Master's study. I was rather dismayed with what I found there.
By all appearances, William F Darcy was as he ever was when I left. He sat, rigid and stone-faced, behind his desk, although I did sense relief in him when he welcomed me. The confusing thing about that was, he didn't seem relieved that I was there for him, it was simple relief for ME, that I had survived yet another tour, and was at last home, where he wouldn't have to worry about me anymore.
Once that had been as openly expressed as a man devoid of all emotion is capable, he got down to business. There were issues for us to address regarding Georgie's school, he reported on the financial state of both her trust and my investment portfolio, he filled me in on her latest extracurricular endeavors, and he nailed me down on a commitment to accompany him to our Aunt's for Easter. Then I was summarily dismissed.
Even for Darcy, this behavior was cold, especially when you consider that I'm the only person in his life that he EVER relaxed around, and I'd just returned from a tour of duty in a war zone. As he was nudging me out the door, my first instinct was to give him a wake-up call, but I immediately thought better of it. I didn't have enough intel to dig-in and do battle; I'd have to retreat, regroup, and retrench before I could take him on. Know thy enemy… especially those you love.
I left that day and did everything in my power to discover what had happened to make Will cut himself off from the last two people he held dear, but my efforts were fruitless. Whatever it was had either been buried too deep, or existed somewhere outside my frame of reference. I resigned myself to waiting until he'd be forced into my presence at Easter and began brainstorming my plan of attack.
Will drove the three and a half hours to Kent, while I dozed in the passenger seat, or chipped away at his emotionless shell with my MP3's. Yeah, it sounds lame, but I decided that ANY form of emotional response out of this guy would be a starting point, so I decided to let my musical selections spark his anger.
Well, to you I have to admit, they weren't really my musical selections. Most of them were tracks I'd collected from guys in my platoon – you know, the kind of stuff us Eton boys were never exposed to. I'd put together playlists to get them pumped before we'd go into battle. It helped to raise the right kind of mind-set, or at least the level of adrenaline. Angry, violent stuff.
I had a few playlists, each one good for about an hour worth of listening… pleasure? I had great hopes for disclosure on this ride, and it didn't take long for my plan to begin to have an effect. He got angry, alright, and he disclosed a lot about what he was thinking, and how he was feeling, but unfortunately none of it appeared to be at the root of his problem. It was more like a long stream of expletives and insults directed at me.
Oh well, I still had another thirteen days to work on him. This was just phase one of a multi-pronged attack. I wasn't about to be dissuaded yet, but I let it go for the rest of the ride, and focused my considerable skills on selecting songs and artists I knew he favored. At that point I was willing to do anything to soothe the savage beast!
I pulled back, recognizing the call to bide my time. I needed to give him a chance to collect himself before he had to deal with the force that was our Auntie Catty. (Lord, she hates when I call her that – which is exactly why I do!) But unlike me, Auntie Catty is relentless when it comes to Will, and while I wanted to get him to open up, it was not my goal to see him eviscerated, so I took a strategic break.
Huh, when I look back now, I think of all the time and energy I could have saved myself, if I had only known what awaited us when we arrived at Rosings. Like a long anticipated gift, tied up in the prettiest of packages, there she sat, drinking tea and being interrogated by Lady C herself. Elizabeth Bennet.
Instinctively I knew it. No sooner had he entered the room then he froze, by all appearances paralyzed by the sight of her. When I heard her name it all became crystal clear. The riddle had solved itself, before I'd even posed my first question.
But tell me, had you heard any of this from him? Before today you'd never heard the history behind all this? The Benefit… right! It seems that at least half of London knows that story. That's when it all went public, thanks to me and my little army of Cupid's foot soldiers.
OK, let me see if I can finish this up quickly. I think they're in the staging area now, and you need to hear the rest of this before they come out and things really kick into gear.
So, to give you the Spark's Notes version, let me just say the visit was an unmitigated disaster. Will took his social blunders to an epic level during those two weeks in Kent. I watched him shoot himself in the foot over and over again, and there was nothing I could do to stop the carnage.
It was awful. I tried to divert her attention from the wreckage he was making of himself, but that only served to get him even more strung out, and then he'd throw another spanner in the works. I couldn't believe this was the same guy that ate the Fortune 500's Who's Who list every morning for breakfast. It was like witnessing a train wreck in slow motion, and there I was on the sidelines, powerless.
The night before we left, something happened. To this day, neither of them has breathed a word, but I do know it caused a paradigm shift in my cousin. It was apparently the first in a series of them, which ultimately brought us to this day. He left Kent as a different man.
Two weeks later I was sitting is Will's home office, or I should say the space that at one time had been his home office. Upon his return from Rosings, my formerly fastidious cousin had barricaded himself in this room that was now a disturbing assault on my post-war senses.
The room reeked of stale alcohol, vomit, rotting food and body odor. If I made the mistake of closing my eyes (as I did when I first saw what faced me) I ran the risk of suffering flashbacks to the rats' hole I'd left behind in the Mideast. What I saw when I opened my eyes again was only slightly more comforting.
He looked like hell. No, that's being too generous. I couldn't believe this was the man that had been voted Britain's Sexiest Man Alive for the past 3 years. If only the rest of Britain's men could have seen him then. I'd say the majority of London's homeless were in better shape than him.
Well, this time I knew what I was getting myself in to. Or at least I had a damn good idea what was going on in his head. He'd been spurned, that much was obvious from the fall-out. That he might have anticipated anything other than rejection was amazing to me. You know, he's usually such an astute guy!
It didn't take too much torture on my part to drag him back into the land of the living. Once I had him there, it only required a few well placed jabs at his guilty conscience where Georgie was concerned, and he actually started interacting again. Our Will was back, but it was like he was carrying some extra baggage with him now.
His emotions were a little closer to the surface than they'd ever been. He showed more concern, or kindness, or care, or something. It was like he was noticing the world outside his door for the very first time.
Georgie has always worn her heart on her sleeve, and worried more about the rest of the world than she'd ever cared for herself, so she jumped on the chance to enlist Will in her crusades. She'd recently been asked to use her family's considerable clout to back a fundraising event to benefit runaways' and battered women's shelters in London.
After being brought in off the streets herself by one such facility when Wickham cast her aside, she talked Will into directing a large portion of his annual charitable giving fund to supporting these organizations financially, but they'd never done so publicly. As she was maturing, and growing in her sense of inner-strength and confidence, and with Will standing beside her, she decided she could finally take a stand publicly, and lend the considerable value of her family's name to these worthy causes.
It was an emotional decision for her to do this, and for Will and me to support her in it. I think the hardest part for me was in recognizing that she was no longer a little girl, but becoming an incredible woman in her own right. As much as it pained us as her guardians, she felt a strong need to let her story be known, (something we'd always done our best to keep quiet) and we could not deny her what she so needed. If this was the balm to ease her soul, and if she could somehow aid other young women in the process, how could we possibly say no? So we vowed to stand by her and help, however we could.
We all buried ourselves in our respective responsibilities over the next few months, Will with his conglomerate, Georgie in the planning process for her Benefit, and me in my new role as Commanding Officer at Lympstone. It was an intense time for all of us, but we managed to come together to share a meal and catch up with each other whenever we could.
Summertime slowed things down in the corporate world just a bit, which I think Will really needed. He'd been going all-out since his re-emergence, I think in a play to keep his mind off of HER, but it wasn't doing his body any favors. He was worn out, and that was clear to see.
Georgie and I managed to talk him into accompanying her on a scouting trip to Pemberley. The Darcy Family would be hosting the Benefit at their ancestral home in late September, and Georgie wanted to double check all her logistics for planning purposes. I think Will was almost afraid to go; whether it was a fear of too much time to think, or of all the disappointed dreams he'd be facing down when he got there, I'm not sure, but it wasn't until I agreed to go up as well that he finally gave in to the plan. It was decided. In August, he'd take some time off of work, I'd take some of that leave I'd built up, and to Derbyshire we'd go.
When the day came for Will and Georgie to leave (I couldn't get off base for another 36 hours) there was some sort of crisis among the volunteer planning committee Georgie had organized, and she had to pull an emergency meeting. I don't know, I think it was a full scale war between a Lady and a Duchess over the color of napkins, or some such nonsense. Never mind that. It didn't matter.
ANYWAY. Georgie's being pulled off schedule, but Will's got a bug up his ass. You know him when he sets his mind to something. He was leaving on that day, at that time, and he thought the peerage could go hang themselves with their linen napkins for all he cared. He wanted to go! (I'm sure that my asking him what he was afraid of hadn't helped matters any.) So apparently he decided that he needed to conquer his demons on his own. I would collect Georgie in London tomorrow afternoon, and we'd follow him up.
When we got to Pemberley, we encountered yet another Will Darcy. This was one neither Georgie nor I had seen since we were all children; although considering the age difference, I have to wonder if Georgie had ever seen this side of her care-worn brother before. He was positively beaming. Bastard was so happy, I might have considered slapping the stupid grin off his face, if I hadn't spent the last decade trying to figure out how to get it back there in the first place!
Turns out he'd had a surprise encounter when he'd arrived the day before. None other than one Miss 'Lizzy' Bennet! She was off on a jaunt with her Aunt and Uncle, touring the Grand Estates of the North, and among those, apparently, Pemberley could simply not be missed! (To hear-tell, there could be no argument… no matter HOW hard our darling Lizzy might try to persuade them otherwise.)
So, in keeping with the theme of dragging unsuspecting relatives about the county no matter what they might prefer, Will was whisking us off immediately to the Inn at Lambton, where the Lovely Lizzy was currently quartered, and awaiting her introduction to Georgiana. (Of course, there'd been no mention of MY effervescent company, but he always was jealous of my way with the ladies!)
We shared a lively dinner at the Inn that night with Lizzy, Madeline, and Ed; and Will made plans with Lizzy to collect her the next morning for a leisurely day at Pemberley while Ed and Maddie went to tour Chatsworth. I've got to tell you, I was dumbstruck by my companions during that meal.
Not only had Darcy turned over a new leaf, or uncovered an old one, or whatever it is he'd done, but Lizzy! In essentials, she was unchanged, but in her behavior toward Will, she was an entirely different person. She blushed, she giggled, she obviously wanted what was hers for the taking, but for some reason, it was regret that was the constant undercurrent through it all.
I couldn't figure these two out, not in the least. Anyone could see that they both wanted the same thing, so why were they acting like it was beyond their reach? Stupid, stupid love! God help me if I ever find myself in that position. Do me a favor, would you? Just shoot me if you ever see ME like that!
There was nothing I could do about Lizzy. Lord knows, those kind words I put in for Darcy back in Hunsford were a waste of breath. At the time, I thought for sure that if I just gave her an example of his devotion to his friends, by telling her about all he'd done to spare Bingley, she'd see what a good guy he is. No. I knew I'd have to work on him.
When we got back to the homestead that night, he was higher than a kite. I'm not sure I'd ever seen him that happy. Not even when he got his first dirt bike when he turned 10. I had to act on it.
His joy made him quite verbose. I heard all about her charms, brilliance, and sparkling good humor. I was regaled with all his dreams of the future. I was honored to be the sounding board for all his ideas and plans for tomorrow. I was thrilled to recognize in this man the best friend of my youth, returned to me after what felt like a lifetime of missing him.
Then, once again, it all fell apart. But this time I understood. This time there were no questions. This time it was clear who had done wrong. That bloody prick George Wickham had struck my best friend where it hurt the most, once again.
It was weeks before we were able to find him and turn him in to the police. Wickham, that sod, had gotten Lizzy's teenage sister loaded, likely kept her caned for days on end while he (and who knows who else) used her drugged-up body for whatever nefarious pleasures they could. She was found on the streets, barely alive between the internal and external abuse she'd endured, and was mercifully taken in to one of the very shelters Georgiana's group was working to support.
Lydia's recovery there was not an easy one, but she was in the best possible place. They provided her with all the help she needed, medically, emotionally, physically, and psychologically. The changes she's made in her life already are remarkable, and it's only been a relatively short time. She's still got quite a way to go, but there is no longer any doubt that she'll get there. She will be okay.
Now. We've finally come to the infamous part of their story. This is the part you asked me about to begin with, isn't it? So? I got a little off track! But you have to admit, it doesn't have nearly the impact without knowing the whole back story, does it?
Those gossip columns and society pages couldn't do it justice with their word limits! To them, it was just another famous face, caught doing something that seemed ridiculous. Give the guy a break. He was just a romantic fool in love, pushed over the edge by circumstances and an encouraging (OKAY! manipulative) cousin.
So. The night of the benefit. We're all at Pemberley. We all know that not only are Chas, his scary sisters, and everyone who's anyone in Society going to be there, but the two, lovely, eldest Bennet sisters are attending as well. (Their family felt it important that at least someone represent them, to show their gratitude for all that the Darcy's and the shelter had done for Lydia.) Little did they know that the last thing Will wanted was their gratitude.
Anyway. We're all there, the wine is flowing, the food is fantastic, the atmosphere is ideal, and the company – well, at least some of the company – is exquisite. But I can see that Will is wound tighter than a top. He can't stop moving, he can't stop sneaking longing looks at Lizzy, but neither can he summon the courage to talk to her. He's told me how guilty he feels that Wickham was left free to prey upon her little sister because we'd chosen to protect Georgie, and not press charges when that slime had done the same to her.
I could only imagine what was going through Lizzy's head, but I knew it was time for an intervention. These two were never going to get it together on their own, that much was obvious. So I organized my minions, and we set to work. Chas and I tag-teamed Will with drinks all night, making sure his glass was never empty, and he had an endless stream of reasons to toast. Thank God he's a light weight, because if he drank like some of my recruits, I might have been under the table before I'd seen my evil plan through fruition.
It was easy enough getting Georgie to add a couple of extra features into the night's live auction, and once we'd gotten her on board, it was really short work in getting a happily buzzed Will to give in to his sister's pleading eyes. He never could say no to her.
It was so smooth, that by the time the auction ended, Will had no idea what hit him. Nor did he suspect what was about to hit him. You see, Bingley and I took turns bidding on the two items in the auction. With the attention split between us, it was subtle enough for Will not to notice, but safe enough to ensure that one of us would be the lucky winner. Our deep pockets certainly didn't hinder our efforts any either.
Once we'd settled our debts with the charity, we converged on Will. Chas was bursting with excitement over his part in the scheme, and couldn't wait to announce it to our unsuspecting friend. (It was the first time I'd had the opportunity to witness first hand that puppy-dog thing Darcy had written about. I really had to struggle not to pat Bingley's head!)
Chas was proud to announce that he was the lucky winner of the "Live Karaoke" auction. His donation of 500£ had purchased him the role of lead singer with the band for one song during that evening's event. I could just see the amusement bubbling up in Will's eyes as he contemplated what and how Chas would perform. I knew at that moment that he never saw the next bit coming until it was too late.
When Bingley finally stopped bouncing, I took my own great pleasure in informing my dear cousin that I had been the honored winner of the "Jeeves Darcy – Servant for a Day" auction item, and couldn't wait to tell him what to do. That's when I saw the suspicion alight in the back of his eyes. He groaned, then made an abrupt move to beat a hasty retreat.
Of course, there was no way he was getting away from me that easily, and between his attire and our audience, I knew he wouldn't attempt a struggle. Instead, he took it like a man, looking at me in that attitude I recognized well. Without any need for words I knew he was asking, "So what's it going to be?" In my enthusiasm, I felt like Bingley… I couldn't WAIT to tell him!
With all the alcohol we'd dumped down his throat prior to that moment, it was a piece of cake. All it took was some good-natured cajoling, and a few assurances that the chicks would dig it (neither Bingley nor I were brave enough to mention HER name specifically) and he caved.
Chas, Will and I then made our way over to the dinner table placed inconspicuously beside the stage, and sat down to chat with the gentlemen there as they finished their meal. They were a good group of guys, ready to have some fun, and eager to please. They even managed to cajole a smile out of my brooding cousin before the group rose to set to work.
A short while later, Chas and I had rejoined the Bennet ladies, who were happily discussing their evening's purchases – boutique gift certificates, spa appointments, and, somehow not all that surprisingly, a week at 'Goddess Boot Camp' for Lizzy. I offered her a week in boot camp with me, gratis, accompanied by the promise to worship her like a Goddess, but she wouldn't have it. Go figure.
Suddenly our conversation was interrupted by a drum roll from the stage, and a call for attention by the lead singer. He was proud to announce a special guest appearance, someone he thought we'd all know, performing a cover of the song by Cake, Short Skirt/Long Jacket. And out from behind the speakers came the man of the hour, William F. Darcy, the stiffest singer ever to take the stage.
Bingley started giggling uncontrollably; Jane's face took on a look of shocked horror, but Lizzy. The reactions flitting across Lizzy's face were beyond compare. Surprise, amazement, sympathy, admiration, amusement, infatuation, and desire, it was all there for anyone to see. She was an open book.
As Will began singing, I could tell that the full value of my donation was being realized, as what was happening up on that stage finally began to sink in with his audience.
I want a girl with a mind like a diamond
I want a girl who knows what's best
I want a girl with shoes that cut
And eyes that burn like cigarettes
He was singing to the crowd, and he actually wasn't mucking it up too badly, but with those words he could only focus on the one person in the crowd who I knew, in his mind, was the personification of these qualities. I'd heard not only his admiration of all her best traits, but even years prior I'd listened to him pontificate on what would constitute a truly accomplished woman, and I knew that if he'd written this song himself, he couldn't have expressed it any better.
I want a girl with the right allocations
Who's fast and thorough
And sharp as a tack
She's playing with her jewelry
She's putting up her hair
She's touring the facility
And picking up slack
The further into the song he got and the more his audience urged him on, the more he loosened up and started to ham it up, as I'd seen him do hundreds of times in our youth. (Although back then Georgie and I were his only audience.)
I want a girl with a short skirt and a lonnnng jacket...
When the band broke into the first instrumental segment of the song, Will let the mic drop to his side and started to strut around the stage, really getting into the groove. Each time he'd let go with a shake of his hips, Lizzy would scream like a love-struck teenager at a Beatle's concert. My ears were bursting from it, but even the pain couldn't wipe the smile off my face.
To see my chronically-repressed, love-struck and tormented cousin playing to the crowd, having fun, and exposing himself thoroughly to the woman of his dreams, and to watch her giving right back to him all the encouragement he needed, was everything I had hoped to accomplish when I'd brainstormed this ridiculous scheme. Well, almost everything, but it was a start.
As he pranced toward the stairs at the edge of the stage, he looked like some deranged blend of Beyoncé and Russell Brand, and even so, Lizzy was still a woman transfixed. I couldn't hold back the chuckle as he started in on his second refrain and began working his way into the crowd.
I want a girl who gets up early
I want a girl who stays up late
I want a girl with uninterrupted prosperity
Who uses a machete to cut through red tape
With fingernails that shine like justice
And a voice that is dark like tinted glass
He was ignoring all the silly debutantes vying for his attention as he made his way in a direct line toward us, or I should say, toward Lizzy.
She is fast and thorough
And sharp as a tack
She's touring the facility
And picking up slack
I want a girl with a short skirt and a lonnnnng... lonnng jacket
The second instrumental started up just in time. He'd reached Lizzy, held out a hand to her, but instead of swooning as by that time I'd almost expected, she jumped into his arms and laid a big, loud, wet kiss on his lips, right there in the middle of hundreds of people, all focused on the spectacle my staid cousin was making of himself. It may very well have been the proudest moment of my life!
When I recognized the notes leading back into his next vocal, I gave him a none-too-subtle nudge, and gestured with my head towards the stage to remind him what he'd been doing before his greatest wish had come true.
As he picked up on his cue, he began to work his way back toward the stage, but this time, with Lizzy Bennet in tow. He finally had her in his grasp, and it appeared that he was in no way ready to let go.
I want a girl with a smooth liquidation
I want a girl with good dividends
And at the city bank we will meet accidentally
We'll start to talk when she borrows my pen
She wants a car with a cupholder arm-rest
She wants a car that will get her there
She's changing her name from Kitty to Karen
She's trading her MG for a white Chrystler Le Baron
I want a girl with a short skirt and a lonnnnggggggggg jacket
And, as the saying goes, the rest is history. After Will had taken his final bow, he jumped on the chance to sneak out the door hidden behind the stage with Lizzy still close by his side. Nobody laid eyes on them again until morning, when they joined the rest of us in the breakfast room and announced their engagement.
If it weren't for me, who knows where we'd all be today?"
And just as CO Fitzwilliam was preparing to accept words of congratulations from their old chum from Eton, the Emcee's voice cut into their conversation, asking everyone to stand and join him in welcoming, for the very first time in public, the newlyweds, Mr. and Mrs. William and Elizabeth Darcy.
AN: Pats on the back for Richard, and well-wishes for ODC will be rewarded with a virtual piece of cake.