A/N: Wrote this one on my way to Sydney for installation of my company's first international sale. Had to write it on my iPad due to laptop problems, so please enjoy.

The afternoon sun was waning as the cavalcade of coaches passed through Meryton. Two matrons stood outside the haberdashery watching the carriages go by.

"Oh, that looks like the Darcy coach, Mrs. Bennet."

"Indeed it does, Mrs. Philips. I can hardly stand the sight of that man. He slighted my Lizzy at the assembly, you know."

"But isn't he to marry your Lizzy?"

"Of course. Of course… I quite forgot. In that case, perhaps he's not so bad. I quite welcome his 10,000… er, I mean I quite welcome him as a son. He's the finest of men."

"The best"

"A paragon"

"A true gentleman"

"That wasn't him in the coach though, was it? My eyes aren't what they were."

"No, I don't believe it was."

"That was a fine and well dressed young lady though. Are you sure it wasn't my Lizzy?"

"Not at all. You know how these rich young wives can change their appearance, but I don't think it extends as far as that."

"Another coach! Isn't that a Bingley coach?"

"Yes, I believe it is."

"There seems to be a lack of Bingley's in it though. In fact, it appears to be quite empty. Not even Miss Bingley's lace."

"It was very fine lace."

"The finest"

"So intricate"

"So smooth"

"There's another Bingley coach."

"Well, as I always said, Mr. Bingley is always welcome at Longbourn… and that goes for his empty coaches as well."

"Do you suppose they're going to Longbourn?"

"Perhaps I could go check."

"But then you would miss Mrs. Long's orange treacle."

"I quite like treacle"

"More than Mr. Bingley?"

"You're right. You're absolutely right. How silly of me. We must go to Mrs. Long's at once."

"As I thought."

The matrons went about their business, and thought about the coaches no more.

Inside the coach, Georgiana was giddy with excitement. This did not set well with Mrs. Annesley as she did not hold with giddiness or excitement, but there was naught to be done about it. Georgiana started asking excited questions of her cousin.

"Oh, won't it be wonderful to meet all my new sisters… well, soon to be sisters. There are four of them, you know. I can't wait to meet them… And I can't wait to meet Elizabeth. Do you think it would be all right to call her Elizabeth? or even Lizzy since we're practically sisters. Are the other sisters older or younger? Are they all similar personalities? I can't wait. Just think. Five Sisters!"

"Five Sisters!"

"Yes! Five sisters"

"Extraordinary… And Darcy never mentioned any of them."

"Not a word"

"Very strange"

Fitzwilliam had only heard about one of the sisters, Bingley's Angel and he was quite keen to see her. She had been described by both Darcy and Bingley as quite the most beautiful woman in England, possibly in the world. He just had to get a glimpse. Darcy apparently separated them, so maybe there was something wrong with her. Maybe she wasn't quite such an angel. Maybe she had bad table manners. Maybe she read the same boring books Darcy did, or worse yet, talked about them. Maybe she played chess.. Maybe she was an anarchist or an American. Maybe she was insane! Maybe Bingley was insane! Yes, yes, that was it. The perfect explanation. It all made sense. Bingley was insane! No other explanation would suffice to explain taking Darcy's advice on women, since it was almost always wrong.

Aloysius determined he had to get to the bottom of this, and if Bingley's Angel was as beautiful as described, he would sweep right in and steal her away. Wouldn't that be something! Getting the jump on both Darcy and Bingley. Of course, he had to see this angel first. No point in getting ahead of himself.

Fitzwilliam was quite ready to work himself into a fit of the vapors when he saw her… Bingley's Angel! Now he understood what all the fuss was about. She was absolutely and unequivocally the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on, and he determined then and there he would steal her heart away. Hang Bingley, he had his chance and missed it. He would win her hand, or fall on his sword, which was actually harder than it sounded. If you just put the thing on the ground facing up and tried to fall on it, the hilt was likely to skitter away, or maybe the sword would just fall over before you got to it. That meant you had to prop the thing up on a rock or a tree branch, and then you would just look undignified, laying there dead as a doornail, draped around a random tree. If you got a carpenter to build a proper sword stand, it would take days and a lot of Darcy's money. Worst of all, with all of these schemes, there was a chance you would miss something vital and just injure yourself, or worse yet, not injure yourself at all and damage your shiny red coat. You could trip and fall and have it just cut off half your hair (that had actually happened to him once over breakfast and the ribbing at the mess was merciless), so all in all, it would be much better to gain his angel's hand than to have to submit to the sword.

Aloysius jumped from the carriage, and immediately reached back to help Georgiana out, even though she was perfectly capable of doing so herself, and unlike Fitzwilliam she could at least brag that she had never done a face-plant on the way out of a carriage. However, chivalry demanded that he assist her and there was no way Aloysius was not going to be properly chivalrous. Once Georgiana was on the ground, he rushed over to the intoxicating, enchanting, beautiful, charming angel of his dreams and stated his case in no uncertain terms.

"Miss Bennet, I presume?"

So impressed was she by his demeanor, she simply nodded her head.

"I am Aloysius Fitzwilliam, colonel in his majesty's army, son of the Earl of Matlock, one hundred forty seventh in my class at Cambridge and a master swordsman. I am a gentleman, a scholar and a judge of fine whiskey. I am also quite able to leech nearly infinite funds from your soon to be brother, Fitzwilliam Darcy who is rich as Croesus… and I beg you to accept my hand in marriage."

Even for Aloysius this was uncommon behavior, and he sat watching his lady-love, waiting for her answer. Would she make him the happiest of men, or crush his heart forevermore. Would he be happily on his way to Scotland, or subject to the derision of disappointed hopes, subjecting himself to misery of the acutest kind.

His angel stared at him for a moment, obviously carefully considering all of her options. Georgiana was never quite certain that she actually nodded her head, but Aloysius was more than satisfied with her response. He grabbed his angel around the waist, swung her around three or four times (nearly killing them both with the aforementioned sword in the process), kissed her soundly on the lips, ran over to the carriage, handed her in and shouted, "Roster! To Scotland! There's not a moment to lose." This might have been considered quite scandalous, but Mrs. Annesley was still in the coach, so propriety was maintained, and Fitzwilliam was content with the world. His angel would be his wife in less than a week, and hang Bingley. Let him shift for himself.

The carriage slowly started moving, then picked up speed and headed down the road, presumably to meet with Darcy in Scotland. Georgiana, sighed, and said, "Not again."

As the dust slowly settled, she talked to the head Bingley coachman and suggested they retire to Netherfield, and await their master's instruction. Bingley must be here somewhere, but since her cousin had now snatched his bride away, she thought it best not to be present when he found out about the bride-snatching, let alone the coach-nabbing. All in all, maybe Mr. Bingley was best avoided for a few days. He was a very amiable man, but perhaps even he had his limits, and if pressed too far, he might do something insane… like call for his sisters, or maybe propose to one of the remaining Bennet sisters.

With a resigned sigh, Georgina watched the cavalcade of coaches leave, and went to the manor house in search of Mrs. Hill.