Despite my hurried preparations, the next afternoon found me walking the countryside. You know how it is. When one is in grammar school and a maths examination looms on the horizon, one must buckle down and stick the nose to the g. several nights in advance. Stuffing one's head the morning of is simply no good. It seems that winning a girl's heart is similar in nature, but with significantly less known constants and no extra marks for writing one's name on the upper corner. Regardless, a few hours before the eagerly awaited dinner party, I was left with little to do. I offered to assist my sister in the final arrangements, but was met with a more calculating look than normally observed on her face.

"Perhaps you would better enjoy a quiet stroll outdoors until it is time to change dress," Georgiana suggested gently.

"Are you certain? There must be something in which I could assist you. I could help select the pattern for the napkins. Those look a likely sort," I opined, observing an approaching maid bearing a cheerful bundle of bluish checquered affairs. The maid faltered, looking stricken.

Georgiana looked as though she was about to speak to me, then thought better of it and turned towards the maid. "You may continue collecting the dishcloths for cleaning," she instructed. The maid scurried on, looking relieved. My sister redirected her attention towards me. "I am quite sure, dear brother. Please enjoy your walk."

So it was that I strode away from Pemberley, my devoted sister waving me on my way as I departed. I had no particular direction in mind. It was with no slight surprise that I found myself a short while later closing in upon the borders of Lambton. As a matter of fact, if I strained my head just a little, I could gaze directly into the upper windows of an inn I had visited not long before. I did so, and just had time enough to note one of those windows closing quickly, followed by the emergence of a certain sister of a gardening-whatsit.

"Good afternoon, sir," greeted Jeeves' niece (one of many assorted). "Should I announce you to Mr and Mrs Gardiner and Miss Bennet?"

I considered the notion. "I should not like to intrude. Are they busy at present?"

A particular gleam entered her eyes, reminding me of a certain uncle of hers, as she answered my question. "Oh no sir, I believe Miss Bennet to be unengaged at the present moment. I expect she would be delighted to receive you."

I harrumphed an approval. "Very well. Lead on, if you would," smartly marching after her as she complied with alacrity. I attempted to form a likely reason for the unannounced visit, and decided upon a courteous reminder of the time of the dinner party. If it went as I imagined it would, they would assure me that they knew it, thus saving me from admitting that I was uncertain of the exact hour myself. It would thus also enable me to determine at which time I should turn back for Pemberley and avoid Georgiana's censure for tardiness, a notion which had been worrying me for some time before arriving at Lambton. A rather efficient scheme, if I did think so myself; I imagine Jeeves would have approved, had it all proceeded according to plan.

It certainly did not. Upon my entry into the rooms taken by the Gardiners, I was met with no Gardiners but Miss Bennet's distraught and tear-stricken face instead. I was taken aback, naturally. If this was the ubiquitous demeanor of young ladies delighted to receive suddenly announced guests, no one had bothered to inform me. A glance at Jeeve's niece reassured me on that point; she was clearly as astonished as I.

The next few moments were a blur. Jeeve's niece scurried away after Miss Bennet's aunt and uncle while I attempted to suggest some means of relief for her distress. It was an even worse disaster than the dishtowels. I was just internally berating myself for insisting aloud that she looked "very ill" when I gathered that she was explaining her sad state. Apparently, she had just received a letter from her sister.

I recalled with some disgruntlement that my previous bungled tete-a-tete with the young lady also occurred after her perusing one of these sisterly missives. Clearly, some sort of connection must exist. If such letters always gummed up the works of fellows' matrimonial prospects, some sort of action ought to be taken. At the very least, a five pound fine. Naturally, I would regret my decreased correspondence with Georgiana while we were apart, but I suppose one must make some sacrifices. As I was considering the practicality of such a system, her continued explanation of the situation finally penetrated my interior musings. When it did, my first impulse was to ignore it as nonsense, but I decided against my better judgment to make certain I understood her correctly.

She assured me that I had. Mr George Wickham was reported to have taken her youngest sister from Brighton to a location unknown. Moreover, Miss Bennet expressed her expectation that I would have little difficulty imagining such a thing possible, or even likely, for the perpetrator. I must confess that I failed her on this point, though I did not admit as much aloud; fortunately, no affirmation from me was required nor expected. As Miss Bennet continued to berate herself for failing to foresee this outcome, another curious feeling took hold of me. It concerned that little plan Jeeves and I had formed the preceding day. Though I was entirely unaware of how this situation had arisen, the circumstances were too coincidental for my comfort. This sensation grew until I could scarcely look Miss Bennet in the face. Perhaps the time of the dinner party was not such a pressing matter after all.

The dinner party! I suddenly recollected it, and resolved to make it the excuse for my retreat rather than advance. As Jeeves' niece returned bringing assurances of the Gardiners' impending arrival at the inn, I departed promising to make their excuses to Georgiana.

My mind was full of all I had learned as I walked back to Pemberley. It was all too much to form any sense out of. There was only one person I could count on to do so. As soon as I arrived, I rang for him.

"Ah, Jeeves," I addressed him as he shimmered through the door, "I have heard some alarming news which I think you ought to hear as well."

He inclined a concerned eyebrow. "While I should be most glad to, sir, I fear that you might have received more in your absence. This arrived by messenger not half an hour ago." So saying, he offered me a letter from the tray he had come bearing. I accepted it unwillingly. I was beginning to loathe the very sight of letters by this point.

The contents did little to adjust my views for the better. "Jeeves," I announced, "This just confirmed what I feared." I sighed. There was nothing for it any longer. "This tears it. Jeeves, pack some bags. We are leaving for London."

Several hours later, we arrived at some imposing boarding houses within the confines of the capitol. A firm rap on the door brought out the face I was expecting but rather hoping not to find after all.

"Porgie Wickham," I enunciated slowly, with a distinct lack of any relish. "Just the man I was looking for."