I endeavor, when recording these singular events, to remain aware that not all who peruse them are endowed with the same innate knowledge of the particular characters contained within as others, such as myself. What I am trying to get at is not all of you may be familiar with that remarkable breed of the ever-inscrutable female species known commonly as the aunt. Not that I profess to be an expert in the subject, mind you. I possess only the one member. However, it has repeatedly occurred to me that their entry in that worthy tenant of any literate's library, the dictionary, is sorely lacking. For some unexplained reason, Webster and most of his disciples focus merely on the familial connections that satisfy the prerequisite for utilizing that specific form of address. I have generally found this to be unnecessary, as this aspect and the associated deference it implies has been impressed on most nephews since the tender years of their infancy with innumerable cheek-pinchings, dressing-downs, and occasional withholdings of dessert. Moreover, the aforementioned are imposed long before said nephew has imbibed sufficient quantities of the milk of knowledge to peruse said Webster and associates. More pertinent knowledge for those so uniquely placed as to remain unaware of the habits of the aunt would, I feel, be brief descriptions of their common behaviours and recommended responses for nephews. I shall herein try to briefly remedy this unfortunate deficiency.

First, there is the Affronted Aunt. This variant has been in some way denied some object she has set her sights on, probably related in some way to your good behaviour. Some good clues that you may be observing an Affronted Aunt in her native habitat are haughty stares down the nose, and that every break in her extremely one-sided conversation will end with a question regarding whether she is not ill-used. The trick here is to exhibit signs of your acknowledgment of her unspoken demand for vengeance. This may be done by assuming an outraged posture at her perceived abysmal treatment and by answering the aforementioned queries with emphatic agreement.

Second, there is the Incensed Aunt. She is characterized by heated snorts, sharp turns at either end of her tigeresque pacing, and interspersed demands to stand up straight, look at her when speaking, and say something for oneself. She is appeased by subtle displays of demeaning oneself to her superiority, such as ashamed glances, speedy compliance with her demands, and heartfelt professions to mend your ways.

Third is the Determined Aunt. This aunt will be accompanied by a firm-set jaw and gimlet eyes, refusals of hearing any opposition, and sharp jabs of her cane employed as punctuation marks. In order to guarantee your future safety, this aunt must be convinced that you are in awe of her display of power. This aunt is the one whom I am sorry to say that I have struggled the most with. This is because in general, she presents a conflict between your present and future well-being, if her determination is directed at you. The best course of action I have discovered is offering frequent replies of "Yes, Aunt" (not neglecting to insert her given name at the tail end, of course), while secretly making plans to salvage what will be left of your future freedom from her schemes.

This outlines some of the basic survival techniques employed when encountering aunts in the wild. Now that you are filled in, you will have no trouble imagining my state of mind as I entered the sitting room to find Aunt Catherine seated with her back to me, quietly partaking of the tea things Jeeves must have previously brought in.

"What ho, Aunt Catherine," I greeted the aged relative.

Said relative clinked tea cup to saucer sharply, turned, and stared at me down aquiline nose. How she accomplished this gesture towards a standing nephew while seated is beyond my powers of explanation, but I presume it is an ability only attainable by aunts.

"I would thank you to address me properly, nephew. I have not visited you in the most sanguine of spirits. I have just been abominably used."

As you have no doubt worked out, I was engaging an Affronted Aunt. I now knew exactly how to proceed.

"And what scoundrel has done the abominable using, dearest Aunt? Should I have a word with him?" I even delivered the lines with a wrathful eye that I felt did me great credit.

She snorted. "There is no 'him," Fitzwilliam. I am speaking of Miss Elizabeth Bennet."

I immediately dropped all traces of wrathfulness from the eyes and adopted more than a hint of bafflement in its place. "And how did you have the occasion to meet with her, dearest A?"

She rose and began pacing. "I have just paid her a visit. I heard some interesting news regarding her from Mr Collins, whom you will recall, is the rector of our parish and the cousin to Miss Bennet. I naturally disregarded it, as I generally do all news he brings me unless it is corroborated. But this particular piece of news was from a trustworthy source." She here ended her pacing and turned sharply. Aunt Catherine wasted no time getting to the point. "What's all this I hear about you marrying this Bennet girl, Fitzwilliam? Do you have anything to say for yourself?"

Naturalists, observe: an Affronted and Incensed Aunt! I proceeded with utmost caution. Fortunately, I had no trouble producing a nervous and confused glance, which is readily mistaken for an ashamed one. "What do you mean, Aunt Catherine?"

"It's all written right here." She produced a letter, and once entrusting it to my hands, resumed pacing.

I observed the letter carefully. It was indeed marked as originating from Pemberley, and while the penmanship tickled the memory, I finally concluded, "This isn't my handwriting."

Aunt Catherine dismissed the matter with a wave of her hand. "Of course not. I would not expect to have been able to read it if it had been." I let that comment slide. A side note – this action is basic procedure for safe interactions with aunts. "It is from your manservant, to his niece in employment with Mrs Collins."

I crumpled the letter with an inadvertent twitch. "My manservant," I muttered. I smoothed then scanned the missive. The intention she had indicated was plain to see, word for word – there was very little else within it, except for general respectful salutations and polite hopes for the neice's state of health.

"So, what have you to say? If you wish to marry her, why are you not engaged to this girl?" my aunt demanded, fixing me with gimlet eyes and firm-set jaw.

I – wait.

"I beg your pardon, Aunt Catherine?" I inquired, weak-kneed.

"Stand up straight when you are speaking with me! I asked you a clear question. If you have been in love with Miss Elizabeth Bennet since you both visited at Rosings Park, why have you not proposed and gained an acceptance?" She closed her interrogation with a sharp rap of her cane.

This was a bit much to take at once. I allowed myself to sink to the sofa and reached numbly for a biscuit. I realized fuzzily that I was, for the very first time, facing an Affronted, Incensed, and Determined Aunt, with no reinforcements in sight.

"Look at me when I'm talking to you!" There were more blows from her cane. Out of concern for Bingley's flooring, I endeavored to form a coherent reply.

"I did ask, but she wouldn't have me," I mumbled pathetically around the biscuit.

"I gathered as much." More pacing ensued. "She admitted that you were not engaged when questioned. She deflected all the obstacles I proposed to your union with remarkable spirit – admirable girl! – leading me to believe that she did indeed possess feelings for you. However, though I pressed her, she would never admit that she would have you now. After all my interference, and after even revealing the tenuous nature of your supposed engagement to my daughter Anne! The audacity! She could have at least admitted to me that she loves you. Was I not ill-used?"

Such was the turmoil of my feelings that it never occurred to me at the time to interject my agreement here. Instead, I prematurely swallowed the biscuit, unclogged the windpipe with a few brisk coughs, and repeated, "You revealed my 'engagement' to Cousin Anne?"

She trotted the dismissive snort back out for another lap. "Of course. Girls eat up that sort of thing." She looked at me with a keen glance. "You know, Fitzwilliam, the time is now."

I glanced at the clock. "Close to half-past one, I'd say," I replied.

She sighed at me wearily. "No, you utter fool, I refer to the time for you to try again. Strong spirits rally in times of persecution. I've done all I can for you. She's a good, clever, sensible sort of girl, just the sort to take you in hand. Unfortunately, those are all too rare, and she won't be waiting for you forever. You must act now. And, speaking of the time, if you hurry, you might catch her before she leaves for her walk. They have several charming secluded spots for private conversation nearby." She regarded me fondly, as mother eagles must be apt to do before tossing their unsuspecting young off cliff-sides. "Best of luck to you, Fitzwilliam, and Godspeed."

"Thank you, Aunt Catherine," I muttered thickly. I brushed off what remained of the biscuit crumbs before planting a peck on her venerable cheek and rushing out the door.

"Jeeves," I called, "my coat, if you please."

He materialized, if that is the word I want, at my side. "Your coat, sir, and your horse is waiting at the drive."

"Thank you. And Jeeves – " I paused here. Naturally, I had a few choice words I wished to impart about informing, however indirectly, innocent chaps' aunts about said chaps' affairs without so much as a by-your-leave. However, such things, delivered tactfully, require a great deal of thinking and even more time. And both were things of which I was currently in short supply.

"Wish me luck, Jeeves."

"Of course, sir."

To those words, I departed from Netherfield and towards the field of battle at Longbourn.