A/N: Missed my plane today, so probably only get this chapter ;( Thanks everyone for the reviews and favs. Just crossed 200 reviews (shameless preening ensues). Now a but of Fitzwilliam and Georgiana (yay). Back to D&E in the next chapter. Now enjoy, "The Hounds of Hell"

Colonel Fitzwilliam was a man of deep convictions. Being a member of His Majesty's Service, his life was all about Duty, Honor and Service. He considered being in Darcy's service to be equally as important as his service to the king, and he managed to extract a lot more geld from Darcy, so it was essential that any task given to him by his cousin be carried out properly.

Darcy instructed Fitzwilliam to ride like the Hounds of Hell to London, so that's exactly what he did. He rode five miles outside Rosings to the Hounds of Hell tavern. This was conveniently located right along his route (well, it was if you considered riding five miles in the wrong direction right along the route), so how could he not stop there.

The Hounds of Hell was owned by a Spanish lady who had been in England for a decade, and still didn't appear to be able to speak a word of English. Nobody actually knew if she was really so ignorant or not, so tended to not guard their tongues as much as they might, and some suspected she pretended ignorance for her own purposes. She went by the odd name of 'Service', so she certainly fulfilled Fitzwilliam's first requirement. She only actually had two items on the menu, so not speaking any English wasn't as big of an impediment as you might think. A customer could cry, "Service! Duty Here", and he would immediately get a Duty Pie, which was made of mutton, potatoes, peas, carrots and maybe some other things you didn't really want to know about. "Service! Honor please", and you would get a mug of His Honor's Special Ale. Such a place suited Fitzwilliam very well, and he thought if he wasn't in such a hurry to help out Darcy and his little bride, he might lose himself here for a week. The tavern boasted all the duty, honor and service he needed, so he was content with his lot.

However, if not literally duty bound, he did remember he had heard that Miss Bennet's sister was uncommonly pretty, so he thought he should get on with his task as soon as possible. Thus he only stayed in the tavern for the absolute minimum of three days. What was Darcy going to do, get married without the bride's best friend, who seemed to coincidentally be Miss Bennet's sister? Run off with Pirates? Clearly, there wasn't so much of a rush. Darcy and his bride would be enjoying their Scottish hospitality when he arrived.

Eventually, he decided to see if Miss Bennet was as interesting as advertised, so he mounted his horse and worked his way to town. Once there, he immediately set about locating the missing sister… well, he actually went to Darcy's townhouse for a meal and some brandy, then went to Darcy's club for some more brandy and cards, then of course it was past calling hours, so he had to wait until the next day.

Fitzwilliam finally called at the appointed house in Cheapside, only to find that she wasn't there. The nerve of the woman! Was everyone this flighty these days. Didn't she know he was coming to escort her to Scotland for her best friend's elopement? Inconceivable! A short conversation with her aunt, accompanied by some truly magnificent pastries gave him the intelligence that Miss Bennet had left only the day before to Hertfordshire with none other than Mr. Bingley. So, Hertfordshire it was to be. Since he didn't have to abduct Bingley, who seemed perfectly amenable to abducting himself for the leg-shackles, he thought it safe to ignore Darcy's instructions regarding the Bingley sisters. Bingley couldn't possibly have been stupid enough to tell them where he was going or what he was doing. There were limits on stupidity, and even Bingley was smarter than that. With that happy thought, he forgot about the Bingley family altogether.

All he needed now was Georgiana and he would be off, so he rode back to the entirely non-canon townhouse in Grosvenor Square, and entered with a flourish.

Georgiana was in the breakfast room, so Fitzwilliam slammed open the door, ran in full tilt and shouted, "On your Feet! Pack your things Georgiana! We're going to Scotland! You too Mrs. Annesley!"

This whole scene seemed vaguely familiar to Aloysius but he couldn't quite place it, nor could he think why he expected to find a monkey in the room. Georgiana was unsurprised by the outburst, having been appraised of the situation by the redoubtable Miss Bennet, so she was ready to leave immediately, and had been for some days. However, she knew all about her cousin's proclivities, and was worried she might lose him. Quick as a flash, she jumped up from the table and grabbed a red cape she kept in the breakfast room for just this purpose. She waved it in front of her cousin like a matador to stop him charging… but alas, she moved just a touch too slow. Aloysius saw the coffee and scones on the sideboard, and he imitated Lady Catherine imitating a crocodile, which you know by now is the fastest animal in the world. Quick as a flash, he had gone to the sideboard and scooped up scones and blueberries and cream and bacon and eggs and tea and sugar and biscuits and honey and tucked in. Georgiana knew she could do nothing until he finished at least one plateful, so she began preparations for the next phase of the operation.

Georgiana was very familiar with her cousin and all of his foibles. Nobody and nothing could disrupt his breakfast. She had been trying for years. Once, she had the tuner set all the strings of the pianoforte randomly and played the most awful cacophony you ever heard… no effect. She once cut his waistcoat off with scissors, and lit it on fire in a brazier… no effect. She scratched her fingernails on a chalkboard, and banged on a bell with a sledgehammer. She even cut off half his hair one day with his sword… no effect. No, nothing was going to disrupt his breakfast, so like an army colonel planning a campaign (the actual fighting colonels, not the sons of earls), she prepared her weapons.

The problem was that she had foolishly allowed both scones and blueberry jam on the sideboard this morning, and that produced a predictable but unfortunate reaction in her cousin. Once he partook of the scones, he would want some brandy. Then that would make him want more scones, and so on and so forth until he ended up asleep in the library. That was normally the best place for him, but today she had important business to conduct.

Her brother had the perfect tool for the job. He had a concoction he obtained from India at great cost, primarily for parlor bets that was the hottest sauce known to man. It was hot, hot in the mamby-pamby-weak-stomached-Englishman sense of the word, but HOT! It had red peppers. It had black peppers. It had curry. It had horseradish. It even had crushed fire ants, and cobra venom. This was all topped off with cinnamon, to give it a nice smooth effect. This was the sauce to do the job. Georgiana waited until the perfect moment, put a good dollop of the magic sauce in Aloysius's coffee and waited patiently.

The effect when it came was both immediate and gratifying. Aloysius turned red. He turned white. He turned red again. His hair stood on end. He started sweating profusely. He said a few words that weren't strictly in the vaunted list of approved words suitable for the gentle ears of young ladies. He stood up, and sat down. He ran around the table like a monkey (but not it should be noted the same species of monkey as his aunt… that would be undignified). Most excitedly, Fitzwilliam (the other Fitzwilliam obviously) jumped up, and rushed out of the breakfast room yelling, "My horse! My horse!"

Unfortunately, he was not quite as recovered from the red hot spicy pepper and fire ant and cobra venom as he thought, and he ran headlong into the door, bounced off, fell flat on his back, jumped back up, opened the door, and ran out still screaming for his horse.

Georgiana waited patiently, and a minute later, he came back in, completely recovered and almost rational. Aloysius said, "As I mentioned, we need to go to Scotland for a wedding."

"I already know that, Aloysius. I've been waiting for you."

"How did you know about it?"

"Miss Bennet wrote to me."

"Miss Bennet?"

"Yes"

"Miss Elizabeth Bennet"

"Yes"

"She's uncommonly helpful considering her opinion of the groom."

"Not really, why wouldn't she be helpful?"

"Yes, I suppose you're right."

"Cousin, Miss Bennet gave me explicit instructions. We're to go Hertfordshire before Scotland."

"Darcy told me that too. Well, not exactly that, but close. I'm to get Miss Bennet's sister for some unaccountable reason. She appears to be closely connected to the bride, and is apparently Bingley's latest angel. I just found out this morning she went back to Hertfordshire, so we do have to go there. It's incredible that Miss Elizabeth knew how it would work out. She must be scary smart."

"She seems so."

"All right, we're off to Hertfordshire. I was to find Bingley as well, but he's already gone off to Hertfordshire so we can catch up with him there."

"How about his sisters?"

"Now that you mention it, your brother told me to do something about the sisters, but I can't remember the details. I was supposed to either bring them, or make it impossible for them to come."

"And you can't remember which?"

"Afraid not"

"You realize the two choices are exact opposites?"

"Yes, I suppose so."

"Mutually exclusive"

"Agreed"

"Impossible to confuse"

"Correct"

"Hmmm… In absence of clear direction we should follow our own council."

"Wait! Now I remember. I'm supposed to indenture their servants I think, or take his carriages. Something about burning something or other."

"His carriages might be convenient if we need to take anybody else to Scotland! I understand there are several Bennet sisters that might like to attend. And I would really not want the Bingley sisters to join, whether my brother wants them or not."

"Agreed. So we have a plan. Steal Bingley's carriages and go to Hertfordshire."

"Perfect plan, let's go."

With that, they went across the still non-canon square to Bingley's townhouse, absconded with his last remaining coach, and set out for Hertfordshire to meet the Famous Bennet Sisters.