Disclaimer: As usual; not mine, don't own, no profit, etc...

Summary: See Previous Chapters

Chapter Nine

Lydia didn't think her expectations of Mr Collins, Rector of Hunsford, Heir to Longborn, were all that high to begin with.

Somehow, he still managed to disappoint her.

He was a tall, heavy-looking man, about of an age with Mr Darcy, and very serious and formal, though he went to some effort to be complimentary and agreeable. He was not a rude or aggressive man, as Papa complained his father had been, nor given to any particular vices other than an inflated sense of his own importance. Overall, these were not bad qualities, and Mary would even call them high virtues. Sadly, Mr Collins suffered more from an excess of his virtues, than by their lack.

He had little sense of wit or humour, and his formality made it difficult to relax around him. He was interested only in religious texts, when Mary attempted to engage him on the subject of books, and went to such pains to be thought agreeable that he made himself ridiculous as soon as he perceived himself to have given even the most trifling slight. He considered his greatest accomplishment to be ascending to the Living at Hunsford, and could not speak enough to praise his Patroness, Lady Catherine de Bough.

Lydia was no real student of irony, but there was something poetic in the fact that Mr Collins was at his most insulting when he was trying to give an effusive compliment.

He complimented the dinner, and asked which of his fair cousins should be praised for their efforts. How could he not realize his implication that the Bennets were unable to afford a cook, and that he had accused five young gentlewomen of being reduced to domestic work? Had he been anyone else, Mama would have summoned the footmen to throw him straight back out the door!

He complimented the house, decorations and furnishings in great detail. In such detail, in fact, that one would be forgiven for thinking that he was taking inventory. No, there was nothing overtly wrong with their cousin, other than being spectacularly unobservant and requiring a great deal of mental and emotional energy when exposed to his company.

Papa seemed entirely too amused, particularly by Mama's solicitousness toward a man she had previously sworn she would never tolerate. It was easy to see why; Mr Collins could not go five minutes without referencing his "fair cousins", and Mama spotted the chance for a potential match. Jane's lips firmed slightly, the closest she came to expressing open displeasure. "Mama, perhaps we should let the gentlemen withdraw for port? After all, we ladies must plan how best to introduce Mr Collins to the neighbourhood."

Hopefully, if marriage was Mr Collin's true purpose for coming here, there would be someone in Hertfordshire desperate enough for a husband that they would not be fussy about the particulars!

Papa's eyes widened in notable dismay at the idea of being left alone with Mr Collins, and the sisters took the opportunity to escape upstairs as Mama called for Mrs Hill to begin planning a dinner. Such an event took time to organise, and would not occur for at least a few days. Lydia wondered if sending a maid for a cold compress would be deemed excessive; she did not anticipate her slight, but steadily growing, headache to leave until Mr Collins did.

The flurry of the next morning - other than doing their best to avoid Mr Collins, who was being remarkably un-subtle in his hints toward matrimony - was spent setting Mary's room up to scry again.

The Militia encampment would not have the shielding that Netherfield did, and as Lydia had already planned to walk into Meryton, Mary had tasked her with stirring up some conversation with the officers, to try and get a clearer idea of who the troublemaker was.

Jane looked at the middle sister with concern as Kitty finished drawing the sigils "Are you certin you do not wish one of us to remain with you, Mary? This is no small undertaking that you propose."

Mary shook her head, "Some time to myself as I wait for you to reach Meryton shall restore me, I am sure. You know how excessive company fatigues me."

There was more of Papa than Mama in Mary, at least in that respect. Where the Bennet Family might rise late after an Assembly, Mary would spend the day entire in her room, unless necessity or familiar callers drew her out of it. Kitty handed her a small, flat stone, carved with runes. "Keep this on you. If you suffer any adverse effects, whether from fatigue or from the object of our search having psychic protection, this will alert us, and we will return as swiftly as we can."

Mary smiled, and hugged her briefly. "Well, you had better start walking, if you wish to avoid Mr Collins inviting himself with you."

Mr Collins had not even needed to hint at walking with them; Papa had been at quite some pains to rid himself of their cousin's company, in order to restore the peace of his library, and had therefore strongly suggested it himself.

Civility did not permit them to refuse his company, though they were not half a mile down the road before wishing that they had risked being thought rude. Kitty and Lydia had the luxury of abandoning their cousin as soon as they entered Meryton, spotting Mr Denny, one of the Officers most easily charmed by a pretty face, with a handsome stranger. They were not the only ones to have noticed, but the first to approach, other young ladies content with giggling and whispering behind fans.

Seeing them, Mr Denny begged permission to introduce his friend, who he had encountered in London the day before, and who had himself just taken up a commission in the Militia. As was clearly expected of her, Lydia professed her delight at the prospect, and in short ord3r was introduced to Mr Wickham, whom Denny had attended school with. Outwardly, Mr Wickham was all things delightful in an Officer; handsome, well-spoken, pleasing of manner and easy of conversation.

Lydia had not yet determined the cause of her own uncertainty at the new acquaintance when they were all distracted by the sound of hoofbeats.

Mr Bingley and Mr Darcy were riding down the street, one received with rather more pleasure than the other. Upon distinguishing Jane and Lizzy, they diverted their path toward the two, Jane clearly Mr Bingley's purpose. She received him with subdued delight, "Mr Bingley, how nice to see you this morning."

Mr Bingley was no less pleased, as they had been on their way to Longbourn to inquire after her. Mr Darcy only bowed, but appeared to prepare himself for the unprecedented step of a polite greeting, only to stop as he caught sight of the newcomers. Their eyes locked, and the air appeared to almost crackle with tension, as it did just before lightning struck. One man turned red, the other white, before Mr Wickham touched his cap, a gesture Mr Darcy only barely deigned to return.

Mr Bingley glanced at his friend with something approaching concern, before they quickly took their leave and rode on, leaving confusion and whispering in their wake.

Colonel Fitzwilliam and Georgiana were having a quiet dinner together, with no one to question the etiquette of pouring over magical tomes as they ate. Her injuries had been healing well, but one wound lingered far longer than it should, refusing to heal, and the doctors were at a loss to explain it. Fitzwillaim was just selecting a new book when a messanger came hurrying in, handing over a letter. It was the one that Darcy only used for emergencies, the lad wanting only age and experience to become a champion racer, able to shave over an hour off what should have been a journey of several hours. "Mr Darcy wrote the message yesterday, sir, but I only returned from another errand at noon."

Fitzwilliam patted him on the shoulder. "Take yourself to the kitchen for a meal and some rest, lad. We'll have a reply for you soon enough. I'm not about to send you hareing off down country roads at night."

The lad returned a cheeky grin and a salute. "I could outride a highwayman, but probably not their bullets."

As conflicted as Darcy was over Miss Elizabeth, he would not have gone to such haste without some greater reason. Fitzwilliam broke the seal and unfolded the letter, aware of Georgiana's eyes on him. "What is it?"

He scanned the contents. Well, well. "Darcy has suspicions that Miss Bennet and her sister are Gifted, but has not been able to confirm it."

Georgiana squealed and clapped her hands. "I shall have a sister, after all! I suppose they shall be reluctant to part from each other, but if Mr Bingley is not entirely set on... Netherfield, was it?... he might inquire about estates further to the north."

That was a possibility. While most of Darcy's neighbours were steady, sensible fellows, one estate had recently been inherited by a child, whose guardians had not been as attentive to his affairs as they should, and the master of another was deeply in debt, and without a wife or heir. Fitzwilliam turned back to the letter, and swore loudly before he considered his audience.

Georgiana's mouth fell open, "Jasper! What on earth is wrong?"

It had been some time since he forgot himself in such a way. "Forgive me, Georgie. Darcy writes that he has encountered Mr Wickham."

Georgiana gasped, a hand rising to her mough, before her expression firmed into resolve. "Then we must prepare for a journey to Herefordshire. At an easy pace, we should not even need to change horses."

Suddenly, Fitzwilliam wished Darcy here. He was much more adept at navigating the times when they had to be Georgiana's parents more than her equal partners. If he sent the lad back with another express as soon as the sun rose - Fitzwilliam still kept army hours when there wasn't a ball or theatre outing that demanded his presence - he could have Darcy's advice within a day.

Well, at least this was the kind of journey that would take time to prepare for. To keep up the illusion of joining a house party for a visit of some duration, they would need to pack for at least a week, and Fitzwilliam would need to at least nominally seek permission for a leave of absence. The special corps that he was part of was far more flexible in such things than the average regiment, but he still needed to arrange for his responsibilities to be covered in his absence.

Georgiana was still looking at him expectantly. "Mother expects you for tea tomorrow, and I must go to the office to request leave. I will send word back to Darcy tomorrow, and if all goes well we shall depart the day after. But, Georgie... are you certain you are recovered enough."

Georgiana sighed, her hand drifting toward the wound that refused to more than half-heal. "Not enough for an active battle, but I can work at a distance easily enough, and I doubt that you or my brother will let me out of your sight."

That was true enough. "Very well. I will write to Darcy tonight, and tell the maids to begin packing directly after breakfast."

.

.

.

.

A/N: A bit of a filler chapter, but we're nearly at the Netherfield ball! That's when things will get really wild...