Late the next day, as Darcy was finishing dealing with his accumulated correspondence, his cousin Fitzwilliam burst into his study, poured himself a large drink, downed it, poured another, waved the decanter at Darcy, and when Darcy shook his head, sat down.
"I take it things at Rosings didn't quite go as planned," said Darcy.
"Would you like the succinct summary, suitable for my general, or the more detailed report, suitable for his staff?" said Fitzwilliam.
"Summary first, followed by the details."
Fitzwilliam gave a wry smile. "The lady said no."
"What?"
Fitzwilliam held up his hands. "She turned me down. She said she wanted to be courted."
"You had better give me the details."
"As planned, we left at dawn for Rosings. We took two carriages, Father's and Mintlaw's. The only change was that Mother decided to come along, which turned out to be a good thing. The roads were good, traffic was light at that hour, and we made it to Rosings in good time. Then it started to go bad. To be charitable, Aunt Catherine was not happy when I asked for a private audience with Anne and Father and Mintlaw practically had to manhandle her out of the way. I thought she was going to sic her servants on us; thankfully she didn't."
Fitzwilliam drained his glass, looked at it, looked at the decanter, and Darcy took the hint. He refilled Fitzwilliam's glass and filled one for himself. "And?" he prompted.
"I spent a very cringeworthy half an hour in the library explaining the concept of a platonic marriage to Anne and assuring her that I would not embarrass her with my manly urges. Whereupon she stamped her foot – she really did – and said she didn't see why I should have all the fun and she damn well wanted to be courted, in town, during the season; and, yes, she really did swear. I was in the process of being routed when the cavalry in the form of Mother rode in and saved the day. The long and short of it is that Anne came back to town with us, mother is going to outfit her with a new wardrobe over the next fortnight and then it starts." Fitzwilliam paused to take a drink, and at Darcy's continue motion, sighed, and did continue. "I will be squiring Anne around to every soirée, ball, exhibit, concert, play, etc., etc. – taking her on carriage rides to Hyde Park - she wants to go to the Royal Menagerie and Astley's Amphitheatre – she even wants a voucher to Almack's. If, by the end of the season, Anne is satisfied with my attendances on her, she might – might mind you, nothing is guaranteed – allow me to renew my addresses to her. But, and it's a big but, given the prize that Rosings is, notwithstanding Aunt Catherine, if a better candidate comes along – that is, one with a title – well, thanks for everything …"
Fitzwilliam finished his drink and held out his glass for a refill.
Darcy refilled his cousin's glass and topped up his own. "And when does this grand courtship start?"
"In two or three weeks, maybe a month. According to Mother Anne requires a complete new wardrobe and that depends on how fast the modistes can churn it out. Plus, Mother knows of some quack, not a run of the mill physician who pokes and prods, spouts some mumble jumble, prescribes some odious potion, and looks on wisely as you expire; no, this one advocates a total regime – everything you can think of: diet, exercise, sleep, bowel movements, bathing, etc. and, apparently a lot of fresh air and sunlight is involved.
"It sounds like the opposite of Aunt Catherine's regime."
"Exactly, it'll either kill Anne or improve her immensely."
Darcy raised his glass. "Let us hope it is the latter." They both drained their glasses. Darcy saw Fitzwilliam cast a doubtful look at the level of brandy remaining in the decanter. "Don't worry I'll call for another bottle – or two." Darcy refilled their glasses and then he rang for his butler. When Carruthers appeared, Darcy asked that two bottles of brandy be brought along with a platter of meat, cheese and bread. Fitzwilliam asked that a pot of mustard and slices of raw onion be included.
"Can Anne even dance?" Darcy asked.
"Mother will be retaining the services of a dancing master. Mother will also be schooling Anne in proper tonnish manners. Those she has learned from Aunt Catherine will not do."
Darcy raised his glass. "Hear, hear." They both drained their glasses. Darcy refilled their glasses emptying the decanter. He held up his hand to forestall any protest. "Carruthers will be here with more shortly."
"You should know that Mother is going to have Georgiana sit in on the lessons," said Fitzwilliam.
Darcy nodded. "It'll do her good. She's going to have to debut at some point, long may it be delayed." In contemplation of the arrival of that dire day, they both sipped their drinks. After a long pause Darcy said "Your mother seems to be taking over. I worry that …"
"You're next? No, my brother is next in her sights. You are second next. He's talking about retreating to his estate. You may want to emulate him and head to Pemberley."
Darcy laughed. "But I look forward to a highly entertaining season, watching you play the lovestruck swain."
"You won't be there."
"Why not?"
"Both Mother and Father suspect that Aunt Catherine will not be able to stay away from town and sooner or later, probably sooner, she is going to swoop into town on her broom, to 'oversee' things. And they both think that if she sees you and Anne in the same room at some event she will loudly and publicly proclaim to the ton that you are courting Anne. No one wants that, other than her of course. So, sorry to spoil your fun, but …"
"Point taken, maybe I will head to Pemberley. Now, don't you have military duties that are going to cut into your courtship?" Darcy asked.
Fitzwilliam waved that problem away. "Father is going to call in a favour and have Horse Guards give me a leave of absence."
Carruthers knocked, and when Darcy bid him enter, he and a footman brought in the requested food and drink. After they had left, Darcy filled up his and Fitzwilliam's glasses. He lifted his glass in salute to Fitzwilliam. "Welcome to the club."
Fitzwilliam squinted at Darcy. "And what club would that be?"
Darcy pointed at Fitzwilliam. "Your lady said no." Darcy pointed at himself. "My lady said no. Bingley's lady said no. It's quite an exclusive club and you are now a member."
"What lady said no to you?" asked Fitzwilliam.
"Miss Elizabeth Bennet."
"What? When?"
"Do you remember the day before we left Rosings? Aunt Catherine invited the Collins and their guests to tea but Miss Elizabeth didn't come. And I disappeared."
Fitzwilliam nodded. "Yes, Aunt Catherine was quite put out."
"Well, I went to the parsonage to see Miss Bennet and … and I proposed to her."
"But she doesn't like you."
"So she told me with considerable vigor." Darcy could see Fitzwilliam was going to ask for details and so he forestalled him. "I'll tell you the full story someday when my wounds have scarred over."
Fitzwilliam, mired in his own nuptial problems, suppressed his curiosity, and asked "And Bingley?"
"Miss Elizabeth's older sister."
"Was she the one you separated Bingley from?" When Darcy nodded Fitzwilliam said "Oh, I ah … I see why Miss Elizabeth was angry at you." Fitzwilliam tilted his head. "But if you had separated them, how could she say no to him?"
"After we got back from Rosings, I tried to make things good by getting them back together but it seems that Miss Bennet, Miss Jane Bennet that is, felt that Bingley was too late to make up for his earlier abandonment."
"Well, send a footman around to invite him over. We can all commiserate together. We may need another bottle or two though."
"I don't know exactly where he is; he's taken himself off towards Cornwall. Supposedly he's looking at estates to purchase but I have my doubts"
Fitzwilliam shook his head. "Too bad we can't all run away." He stood up, swaying as he did, and raised his glass. "A toast."
Darcy sighed to himself; he had a horrible feeling he would be in need of his valet's awful potion in the morning. He stood and raised his glass.
"To all those gentlemen whom have been told 'no' by their ladies," said Fitzwilliam.
"And may those ladies reconsider," replied Darcy.
The two rejected gentlemen clinked their glasses and drank.
