Charles Bingley was not a tower of intellect by any measure. He was not clever like his friend Darcy, or his former friend Miss Elizabeth; not by any stretch of the imagination. You might not even be able to hold his own against Miss Mary, but he was pretty sure he could win a battle of wits at least half of the time with Miss Lydia or Miss Kitty, although if she insisted on being called Catherine, he would probably be unnerved and be lucky to win two out of ten.

He had been sitting in Netherfield Park for a week, and was bored out of his skull. He kept replaying his multiple visits to Longbourn over and over, since he didn't have Darcy to drink with, didn't have either of his sisters to snipe at him and didn't even have Hurst to drink or shoot with. Every visit went something like the first.

"Good morning, Mrs. Bennet"

"Good morning, Mr. Bingham. I assume you must be here to call on my Lizzy today? Do tell me what first attracted you to her. Was it her gorgeous brunette hair, or possibly her lavender scent, or her amazing ability to climb trees? Do tell Sir!"

"Actually, Mrs. Bennet, I'm here to call on Miss Jane, and she has blonde hair."

"Oh yes yes, the blonde one. Now it all makes sense. Lizzy's actually on her way to Scotland to be married over the anvil. Tell me Mr. Bingley, do you actually know what an anvil is?"

"I'm not sure Mrs. Bennet. I think it's something to do with blacksmiths, but I'm afraid blacksmithing was not part of my education."

"And well it should not. You know that blacksmiths are big, burly, ugly, musclebound, frightening, handsome looking men. I don't believe Sir that you could approach any of those attributes."

"Quite right, Mrs. Bennet. I am a man of leisure, and don't have quite so much need for being big, burly or musclebound."

"Or handsome either. Just as well I suppose, since everybody knows you're a whelp still."

"Mrs. Bennet, I would rather you not refer to me as such."

"My apologies Mr. Bingham. I'm simply repeating what my blonde haired daughter said. You did say you are after the blonde one, correct?"

"Yes ma'am, I am definitely after the blonde one. The whip smart, brunette haired, Great Walker and Tree Climber sister is on her way to Scotland to be married over the still somewhat confusing anvil, by the big burly blacksmith in a few days time I believe."

"Well, since you're not going to Scotland… Say, why aren't you going to Scotland?"

"Well to be honest Mrs. Bennet, I was hoping to go to Scotland with your blonde daughter."

"Ahhh! The blonde one. And you think she wants to go to Scotland with you?"

"I'm not sure Mrs. Bennet. I would grovel and ask her, but she seems to be avoiding me."

"And well she should, after you slighted or at the assembly."

"I think you're confusing me with my friend Darcy. He slighted your daughter Miss Elizabeth at the Meryton assembly. I danced with your daughter Miss Jane. It all worked out surprisingly well for Darcy and Miss Elizabeth in the end, so I've been considering plying Miss Jane with brandy before proposing."

"Oh yes, now I remember. You're the spineless whelp who abandoned her after two months. Would you like to come in for tea? Or brandy perhaps?"

"Might I actually be able to converse with your blonde haired daughter ma'am?"

"Oh, she's out wondering about the woods, or climbing trees, or something similar. She'll be back presently."

"Could you be more… er… specific about her return?"

"Oh I'm sure she'll be back today, or tomorrow, or by by Sunday for certain."

"Might I call here tomorrow to see if she has returned?"

"Of course dear of course. You may do so if you will go by Mrs. Long's and sneak away some of her orange treacle. I really like my treacle."

Something like this went on every day for a week. Sometimes, Mrs. Bennet would say that the blonde daughter was practicing the pianoforte. This confused Bingley a little bit, because he did not remember his Jane played the pianoforte and the quality od play seem to be better than any he had ever heard at Longbourn. He was most mystified by it, and naturally did what he always did when he was mystified… He just quit thinking about it.

In between visits to Longbourn, he was absolutely, unequivocally alone at Netherfield… well, except for the 30 servants that worked there but they had the uncanny ability to remain nearly invisible. They seemed to be able to hear him coming, and just be elsewhere. It was scary sometimes. One day though, he had a little excitement when he left his rooms wearing his very fine new orange hunting jacket, which was, according to Caroline, all the rage in town. He left his rooms quietly enough to surprise two maids walking down the hall, and as soon as they saw the orange color, they screamed, dropped what they were carrying and ran down the hall. This was most unusual. It was like a bullfighter, except they ran away from the bright colors instead of towards them. He amused himself for some days making up other costumes to test the theory, and it seemed that only orange did the trick. Red, green, brown, were all perfectly safe. It was just orange that would produce the reaction, but it was quite reliable. This was his only mental exercise for a whole week, and even his limited intellect was suffering from lack of exercise.

After a week, he begun to believe that his Jane was avoiding him. Of course, calling her "his Jane" after he had broken her heart, abandoned her, and left her to the mercies of his sisters was probably a bit of a stretch, but Charles Bingley had a stubborn streak. It wasn't actually stubborn enough to produce any real results in the world, but he was stubborn enough to keep saying the words that gave him comfort in his own mind. Mentally discipline… That's what he was.

After a full week of visiting Longbourn every day, only to be plied with various amounts of tea, orange treacle (which was growing on him), brandy, port or chess he was just about out of things to do. He had even tried reading a little bit of Plutarch with Mr. Bennet, only to find a copy of Sense and Sensibility tucked inside. He vacillated between being insulted and being delighted, and soon settled on the easiest path of being asleep with the book open on his belly. He looked just like Hurst, and he momentarily wondered if Hurst habitually read novels.

Bingley was out in the yard playing with Darcy's dog, which really just served as a prop to keep Bingley in the yard for the next scene. He was astounded to look up with a sense of déjà vu to relive a sort of dream sequence from the one true 1995 BBC miniseries.

Georgianna climbs over a stile and hops into a patch of mud, or what would've been mud in the winter but is now just a little bit slushy. She makes a "Well? Oh, well." Expression and wipes her feet and continues walking. She walks around a tree in sight of Netherfield, and meets Bingley, who happens to be strolling her way. Bingley is startled.

"Miss Bennet"

"Mr Bingley"

[Georgianna curtsies saucily.]

Georgianna: I am come to inquire after your sister.

On foot?

As you see. Would you be so kind as to take me some place where I will not encounter her?

Still amused, Bingley motions for her to join him walking back to the house.

Bingley eventually came to his senses, and realized that this was the long lost Blonde Bennet Sister who had been avoiding him for a week.

"Miss Bennet, I've been seeking you at Longbourn this last week."

"Mr. Bingley. You do realize I'm not technically Miss Bennet. I'm Georgiana Darcy and you've known me these five years at least."

Things slowly began to make sense to Bingley.

"So, you're the mysterious Blonde Bennet daughter."

"Probably"

"The great walker?"

"I do walk a great deal. I'm expected to make up for Miss Elizabeth's lack."

"The pianoforte player"

"Really, Mr. Bingley. You've heard me play many times. I have to play the pianoforte to make up for Miss Mary's absence."

"Miss Mary is missing."

"You really aren't very well informed Mr. Bingley. Everyone knows, Miss Mary is on her way to Scotland to marry my cousin Aloysius."

"I heard rumors, but they said it was the 'most beautiful Bennet sister'. That's traditionally been Miss Jane."

"I can't say. I've never met Miss Jane, but Mary is quite lovely and my cousin was certainly taken with her. He compared her to the finest sword, or something like that. I confess, I wasn't really listening."

"So Miss Jane is not at Longbourn?"

"I'm afraid not."

"So you're the mysterious Blonde Bennet?"

"I believe we've covered that already?"

"And you walked here from Longbourn?"

"Really, Mr. Bingley… haven't you read canon. Three miles is nothing for the hardy Bennet girls."

"Extraordinary"

"Not particularly. You're just fat and lazy since you ride everywhere you go… You and my brother both."

"So, if Miss Jane isn't in Longbourn, where is she?"

"Probably on her way to Scotland like everyone else."

"To get married"

"Presumably"

"Without me?"

"As you see"

"You're not on the way to Scotland."

"Oh yes. You quite distracted me with all of your interrogations. I came here to tell you that right after my brief trial of the amnesiac role, I decided to try out for unexpected catalyst. This naturally required me to overhear a dastardly and evil plot that may end civilization as we know it, and I came here directly to engage your assistance. I will naturally hold the details of the conversation to build suspense."

"Ah, I see that at least you recognize my worth. Set me a task Miss Darcy. Lay Down the Gauntlet. Put my shoulder to the wheel. I am at your disposal, and I shall not disappoint. No matter the difficulties, I shall persevere."

"Actually, Mr. Bingley, I just came here to borrow your coach since my cousin took mine."

"Oh"

"So sorry"

"Miss Darcy! My coaches come with my assistance. You must accept both or neither."

"Very well Mr. Bingley. Can we leave straightaway? There's not a moment to lose."

"No clean clothes?"

"No"

"No gathering my sisters."

"Definitely not!"

"No tea?"

"I'm afraid not"

"Treacle?"

"Mrs. Longs?"

"Is there any other?"

"Very well, Tea, Treacle and then we're off."

"Tally ho"

"One more thing, Mr. Bingley"

"Pray, continue"

"We will apparently be opposing forty or fifty armed men, so we may need strength in numbers. We shall have to stop at Longbourn on the way and bring my other sisters Kitty and Lydia."

Mr. Bingley did not say 'Oh dear' because that would be unmanly (even though I'm a male author and have no trouble with it), but he did think it. Fifty men indeed! Maybe he could get some role other than hapless sidekick.

A/N: That's it gang, all the little duckies are in play, and nearly everyone has already guessed the mysterious Bennet sister.