A/N: A more sympathetic, perhaps too sympathetic, Lady Catherine to go with Miss de Bourgh. The likes of Lady Catherine de Bourgh, in my opinion, are not born but made; and the young Lady Catherine Fitzwilliam must have been a very different sort of person. Also a look at the young Lady Anne. Oh, and the ellipses (. . .) are the bits Lady Catherine is tuning out. This is pretty much the first piece of fanfic I ever wrote, edited a little.

"My dear Lady Catherine, my dearest Lady Catherine . . . pray forgive the violence of my language, I not know what my dear mother would say — speaking of whom, your ladyship, I was recently meditating on the very great loss I have felt, the loss of guidance and direction, which I assure you has been felt most acutely . . . and, feeling this acute loss, I searched for someone who could properly fill her shoes, a lady who possessed the same greatness of mind, ability to govern, and, if I may say so, sweetness of temper . . . dearest Lady Catherine, I find that none other than you combines these virtues, and that I would be honoured, nay, delighted, were you to consent to my offer."

Lady Catherine Fitzwilliam eyed the creature before her. "I hope, sir," she said haughtily, "that this — speech — constitutes an offer of marriage."

Sir Lewis blinked. "My dearest Lady Catherine, I should not presume to insult a fair and noble maiden such as yourself by any other such thing!"

"Ah," said Catherine. There was a muffled sound from behind the sofa. "Very well, I accept. You may call at six o'clock this evening, and speak to my father. Goodbye."

"Yes, your ladyship," declared Sir Lewis, and dashed out of the room. Catherine sighed. A pity there were not more desirable specimens of easily-led, non-vicious owners of vast amount of property. She had seriously considered George Darcy but alas, he quite failed that first test of persuadability, and was also determinedly wooing Anne. She had warned her about his dangerous lack of tractability, but Anne would go her own way. Of course, Fitzwilliams always went their own way, it was perfectly proper.

Except when they hid behind furniture and eavesdropped on other people's marriage proposals. "Really, Anne," Catherine said primly, "if you cannot control yourself you should mind your own affairs."

"I only have one," Anne said, standing up and dusting her skirt off. "And it is so uninspiringly suitable I must find entertainment elsewhere."

Catherine sniffed.

"Shall we copy down that proposal for the edification of future generations?"

Catherine stiffened in horror. "Certainly not." Then, with a despairing look — "Anne, please, don't, you must not, please be serious. You must understand."

"Of course, dearest sister." Anne sighed, and clasped her sister's hand. "You shall run mad if you do not have your own establishment, and wealthy men willing to be managed by their wives are few and far between."

"Precisely," said Catherine, squashing any trace of uncertainty. "Mr Darcy is not — "

"Oh!" said Anne, with a laugh, "I do not mean to manage him, it would be quite impossible. You see, I would rather have a sensible husband than a tractable one, and men of intelligence and good sense, with wealth, connections, and property, are also not easy to find. He is a fine man, and it would be a most valuable connection for our family — you know how ancient and respectable they are. I am tired, Catherine, of being looked down on as some sort of interloper, of the insufferable condescension and superiority of these people — " As her voice rose, she stopped, and looked down, calming herself. "No one would dare look down on Lady Anne Darcy, you know that, and I could do far worse." Anxiously, she said, "You understand, don't you?"

Catherine looked at her sister's tightly-clenched hands, and thought of the idiotic proposal she had just accepted. "Yes, Anne," she said gently. "I understand."