A/N: A couple of reviewers asked for a good-old-fashioned-bodice-ripper. I already had two in the hopper, so this is the first.

Anachronism warning: Bodice wasn't used this way in the Regency. In fact, the term 'Bodice Ripper' is from 1981.

Wade

I suppose the whole thing was inevitable, as if the gods of fate cast out the story of our lives and as Shakespear so fondly said, we were merely players on the stage… or some such falderol as that.

I suppose if I put my back into it, I might be able to make a more pretentious beginning to the story of that day, but it would take some effort, so perhaps I should just get on with it in my usual workmanlike fashion, with perhaps a few four-syllable words thrown in for good measure.

It all started in the library of Netherfield Park, although the story had been playing out in one form or another for quite some time. I was sitting with a book, minding my own business, when Miss Caroline Bingley (my friend's spinster sister), burst into the room and assaulted my ears with some verbiage whose tone and content was on the nasty side, even for her.

"Mr Darcy… we must get these Bennets out of the house and start dissuading Charles from paying so much attention to Miss Bennet. We must! She is completely, thoroughly, and utterly unsuitable. What do we know of them. The eldest is pretty but absolutely vacuous, and without any fortune, connexions, or accomplishments whatsoever. She cannot even play… anything! The next-eldest has nothing to recommend her, save being a good walker… an accomplishment my scullery maid has mastered. Then they had the nerve to impose on us for days because of a trifling cold! It is unbearable. This is not to be borne."

I had no idea whether I should be offended, annoyed, or amused. I answered with just perhaps a touch of impertinence. "Good day, Miss Bingley. I see the weather is fine this morning, though I believe it rained during the night so you should be careful with your boots if you go out. Breakfast was tolerable and my book is excellent."

She seemed to settle down to a state of slightly less wild savagery. "My apologies, sir. I realise I was overly wrought."

Then she proceeded to engage in several minutes of the social niceties, but then she commenced with her assault (as I knew she must).

"Back to the initial topic, if you will, sir. Charles is half a step from raising expectations and does not seem to possess a sense of self-preservation. You must agree that Miss Jane Bennet is entirely unsuitable."

"I see… I see. So then, she is not the daughter of a gentleman, thus making her higher in society than any Bingley, with the possible exception of Mrs Hurst?"

She seemed to take offence at that plain and obvious statement of fact.

"Perhaps she is the daughter of a gentleman, but she is poor as a church mouse, her mother is mercenary, and all of her connexions are in trade. Their estate is entailed, so her husband will end up supporting four spinster sisters and a shrill mother-in-law."

"I see. I agree… we should strongly discourage mercenaries," I said, and stared at her to ascertain if she understood the irony of my words. I may as well have spoken to my horse. (In fact, to be perfectly honest, my horse occasionally does what I ask without argument, so you could make a good case that speaking to him was better).

I will not bore you with the subsequent conversation, but simply state that it seemed to go round in circles, and I came closer and closer to losing my temper for the first time in ages, when I heard the door slam open and realised my mistake.

"Caroline, what are you doing here? You have been in here with the door closed for a half-hour."

I whipped my head around and was not overly surprised to learn that I had been set up. Mrs Hurst came into the door in full dudgeon, followed by her husband, and a maid and footman for good measure. A glance at the clock showed that instead of the four hours the diatribe seemed to last, it had in fact been a quarter-hour. It was apparently enough to make the Bingleys think it constituted a compromise.

In the back of my mind, I registered the sound of a rip just as the door opened, and by the time I turned back around I found Miss Bingley standing a foot away with her bodice ripped at the shoulder and her perfume nearly sufficient to knock me out (which, admittedly, might have made their plan succeed).

I quickly stepped back two paces and experienced the dubious pleasure of learning far more than I ever wanted to know about the so-called lady's undergarments. Her bodice was ripped at the shoulder, leaving some sort of white cotton device clearly visible. Whether it was stays, shift, chemise, or some other thing that starts with an 's' sound was beyond my ken—and far beyond my interest.

As I said, the whole thing seemed inevitable.

A minute later, the cast of characters increased by one with the entry of Bingley.

"Caroline, what in the world are you doing in here with Mr Darcy and —" followed by a vague gesture to her unclothed state.

The tableau had all the elements of a poorly written gothic novel. Plenty of witnesses, two of whom were not related, ripped bodice, close proximity, closed door over a long period. Yes, it certainly fit the classic definition of a compromise. To be perfectly honest, I was quite chagrined that I had been caught in such a simple (some would say 'classic' operation).

I signalled the new footman to close the door and spoke with all the haughty authority of the Master of Pemberley. "You cannot possibly think I will fall for this trick."

Bingley spoke far less authoritatively. "You have compromised her, Darcy. I always thought you either had a bit of a tendre for her, or at least wanted to bed her. I have certainly heard no complaints in all the time she has been in your company. You shall have to marry her, lest both your reputations be ruined."

There it was, plain and simple, from the last person in the world I would have expected it from. Naturally, it was probably inevitable from the moment I saved Bingley from a few bullies at Cambridge… but it was… disappointing. I thought he was different.

I snapped angrily, "Do you think such a classic trick as a ripped bodice is going to entrap me? You cannot possibly imagine that I wanted to compromise Miss Bingley's dubious charms, but unaccountably decided to start at the top?"

Everyone in the room gasped at the vulgarity of what I had to say, and nobody had the temerity to remark on the fact that the only thing a man truly wanted in a situation like that was readily available from more… ah… accessible directions, and with no need for unsightly clothing ripping.

Bingley finally got his voice back, and much to my surprise, Miss Bingley let him carry the load. I suspect she knew that two more words out of her were likely to get her smacked in the side of the had with my book (a suboptimal outcome from her perspective, I assume).

Mr Hurst weighed in. "Come now, Darcy. Lady's reputations are fragile, as you well know. You have allowed Caroline's to be sullied, and the natural remedy must follow. We cannot allow her to be ruined. That would reflect poorly on both of you."

Miss Bingley apparently worked to maintain whatever fantasy she kept in her head. "Everyone can see the results of our shared, but perhaps unwise, passion, and our respectability must be preserved."

I looked to Bingley to see if he would take charge of his family, but he looked back and forth between Miss Bingley and myself and shrugged. "It does look bad, Darcy. You were in here alone with the door closed for at least twenty minutes followed by discovery with clothing askew. I must make the natural conclusion. I doubt you had marriage in mind, but you are responsible for your actions."

I let out a great sigh. "I must admit that I did not expect betrayal from you, Bingley. Others… yes… but you… I thought you were different."

He tried to look stalwart, without much success. "It is my duty to protect my sister, just as it is your duty to protect yours."

I grumbled at the implied threat, and said, "My sister would not attempt to entrap a man," conveniently neglecting to mention that she had agreed to elope which was actually far worse… and to be honest, I could not guarantee that Georgiana would not resort to trickery if she had been thwarted for several years as Miss Bingley had. My success at understanding the female mind was not auspicious.

Miss Bingley snapped, "You have been here with me all this time. You know the rules as well as I do."

Feeling the pain of losing one more friend to avarice, I asked the main question point blank. "Bingley… just to be clear… is it your position that I have compromised your sister and should be required to marry her. You think that her sneaking in, closing the door, and badgering me for twenty minutes constitutes a 'compromise' requiring my honour to be engaged? Yes or no."

I could not tell if he was in on the scheme from the first, but he did not look all that surprised by the eventual outcome. I imagine he knew that with his sister's blind ambition, something like this was inevitable. I imagine his calculus indicated that he would no longer be my friend, and he would certainly never again be a trusted friend, but being my brother-in-law would tie my hands. If I agreed to marry his essentially unmarriageable sister, there was a limit to how badly I could treat the family without harming my own.

Having successfully allowed his sister to put a rope around his neck, he stepped off the gallows voluntarily. "Yes, I do. Your honour is engaged."

I let out a sigh of disappointment and watched an expression of gloating pleasure appear on Miss Bingley's face. I thought I might enjoy wiping it off.

I stared back and forth and saw that they were all either in on it, or at least complaisant.

I took a deep breath (which I admittedly regretted based on Miss Bingley's perfume). "All right, Bingley. I agreed to come to Netherfield to teach you about being a gentleman. It is time for your next lesson. Listen and learn!"

That got everyone's undivided attention, but I held up my hand to prevent them from speaking and turned to the footman. "Jason?"

"Yes sir," he said, not appearing to be enjoying himself very much, which was understandable because there were very few good outcomes likely in his future, once he either spread the rumour or was discharged for failing to do so. The chance of both the maid and footman refusing to do their 'duty' were slim.

I turned to the maid. "Megan?"

She nodded.

"How much are you paid?" I asked, all innocence.

Jason replied confusedly. "£10 sir… and of course, our board."

Megan nodded in agreement.

I rubbed my chin like a wise old sage. "Interesting. That is below the going rate for Hertfordshire. I had not thought Bingley to be so stingy, but with Miss Bingley in charge of the house, I suppose I should not be surprised. You should be getting £15."

They both stared daggers at Miss Bingley, but of course, there was nothing they could do about it.

I blithely continued. "Of course, Darcy lower servants make £20, at least partially because I demand loyalty. Rumours do not spread from Darcy house… ever. They believe in the Japanese motto: 'See no evil; Hear no evil; Speak no evil'."

The two looked at each other in confusion. "It sounds like a right good place to work, sir."

I spread a feral grin around the group. "I am happy you approve since I recall engaging both of you an hour ago. Speak with my valet and he will see to moving you to London or Derbyshire as appropriate. Naturally, as my particular favourites, you will each get a £20 signing bonus as of one hour ago."

The two left the room so fast I thought they might knock some of the (very few) books off the shelf.

I turned back to the company. "Are you still committed to this course."

You really cannot fault a dog from barking… it is just their nature. All of the Bingleys stuck to their chosen course, despite the fact that I was not quite the meek lamb they expected to take to the slaughter.

I looked back and forth, and everyone straightened their spines (sucked in his gut marginally in Hurst's case).

I finally sighed and looked directly at Bingley. "Just to be clear… it is your contention that a half-hour alone in a library constitutes a compromise."

"A lady's reputation is all she has, Darcy," he said in a forlorn bid to get my sympathy (I presume… you never know if Bingley actually understands what he says or why).

I stared directly at Miss Bingley. "Let me explain a few things you did not learn in that overly expensive seminary. First off, as you asserted, a lady's reputation is quite brittle, but a gentleman's may as well be clad in iron. Even if we did have a tryst—and I admit the very idea makes me nauseous—your reputation would be ruined, but mine would be fine. Men would slap me on the back, chastise my poor taste, and ask when I expected to go the rest of the way blind… but then they would buy me drinks and toast my narrow escape."

"But your sister's reputation might suffer," Miss Bingley said in a shrill voice.

"Too true," I said with some gravity. "Playing on my sister's reputation is the one-lone thing that would make me vulnerable to an act like today's, and to be honest, I would do nearly anything to protect it. From that standpoint, you do have some leverage."

Miss Bingley's face lit up enough to make her almost tolerable… but not quite.

I chuckled. "Do not get your hopes up, Miss Bingley. Remember Icarus."

"What do you mean?" she asked in confusion. She had to know who Icarus was and the lesson implied in the speech, but she seemed confused by my apparent confidence.

I finally decided to put them out of their misery. "Let us just suppose that a half-hour in the library unchaperoned is sufficient cause to call compromise." I looked around to all four of my antagonists with a stare fit for a Gargon.

When I had their unwavering attention, I continued, "The best you can hope for… the very best… is that you might force me to marry Miss Elizabeth, who has been across the room since a half-hour before you entered …"

"WHAT?" "YOU ARE MAD!" "WHAT?" "WHERE?" "WHO?"

Everyone gasped, answered at once (in a babble worthy of Mrs Bennet and her youngest daughters), and looked towards Miss Elizabeth, who had stood up to face the company.

She gave a small curtsey, and a smile indicating she had very much enjoyed the show.

Needing to finish the thought, I continued, "… and frankly, if I am pressed to marry Miss Elizabeth it will really only advance the inevitable."

The yells of consternation were universal, and twice as loud as the last batch.

Much to my pleasure, I saw a look of absolute horror on all four of the Bingley's faces.

Much to my chagrin, I saw the same look of horror on Miss Elizabeth's, and that was not an outcome I expected… nor one I could accept.

I quickly walked the five paces between us, stood in front of her, and took her nervous hands into mine. She was shaking like a leaf, but whether that was from fear or anger was tough to tell (I imagined I might learn to tell the difference in a decade or so).

I gently said, "Miss Elizabeth, I know that sounded quite arrogant and rude, but I have long considered you quite the best woman I have ever met. You are clever, kind, respectable, industrious, and best of all, you are someone who will not take any guff from me. I know that my behaviour has not been ideal for courting. I have been hunted so long that ensuring I do not create expectations I cannot meet has been my modus operandi for many years. You have seen the worst of me, but I believe once I show you the best of me, I think I can convince you to love me."

She stopped shaking, and finally asked, "Am I handsome enough to tempt you now?"

I did not want to discuss my abhorrent behaviour in front of the present hostile crowd, so I squeezed her hands and whispered, "You have no idea how much you tempt me. You are the handsomest woman of my acquaintance, and everything lovely. I would ask for your hand now if I thought you would give the correct answer."

She stared at me, while the erstwhile audience finally showed a slight bit of sense by remaining silent. "Am I compromised?"

I let out a sigh. "Probably not, but there is no way to know. I defanged the two witnesses Mrs Hurst brought, but nothing says the rumours cannot start from another angle. Another chatty servant may have seen Miss Bingley enter."

I was frankly surprised to feel her hands quit shaking altogether.

"If I am compromised, we will know very soon. All gossip flows through my mother and her cronies. Let us say this—if I am compromised, we will marry expeditiously. If not, you may call on me at Longbourn and court me properly."

I was surprised to get off so lightly and gave her perhaps the biggest smile I have given anybody in some years. "An excellent suggestion! I agree."

She looked over to our audience and asked, "May I count on the four of you to not only remain silent about today's events, but actively counter gossip you become aware of. Need I remind you that Mr Darcy and I can fix any perceived reputation problem by marrying, which …" then she looked at me with a smile, and continued, "… Mr Darcy asserts is inevitable anyway. You, on the other hand, can easily have your reputations ruined. I imagine Mr Darcy could have you run out of London with an hour spent at his club."

I gave them a fierce growl. "A half-hour at most."

They all looked sufficiently frightened, so I added, "Obviously, you are no longer to be importuning Miss Bennet, Bingley. She is under my protection now, and she can do much better."

I saw my Elizabeth smile and squeeze my hands, which surprised and pleased me exceedingly. I did not plan on a long courtship.

She said, "Now… I believe it is time for Jane and me to leave. Will you escort me to Longbourn. You should probably ask my father's permission to call on me, and I suppose we will have to explain what happened here today to him, but nobody else."

The Bingleys looked like they had no idea what to do, so I turned and put Elizabeth's hand on my arm, where I expected it to lay for a good many years.

Elizabeth said, "Miss Bingley… Bodice ripping is all the fashion in bad novels, but I would suggest you repair your gown before you leave."

With a laugh and a wave, we left to gather up my soon to be sister (and probably cousin if I had my way) and set off to meet my fate.

I knew that I would have no trouble with Mr Bennet. I knew that Mrs Bennet would no doubt drive me halfway to Bedlam. I knew the two youngest sisters would need a governess (or more likely drill sergeant), and I would probably have to lock Miss Mary in a room with Georgiana and a pianoforte instructor—but my heart was light.

As we sat in the carriage on the way to Longbourn, explaining the day's events to Miss Bennet, I reflected on just how lucky a man I was. Miss Bingley's machinations had no doubt accelerated things, but in the end, they did not change the outcome. My Elizabeth and I would be the happiest couple in the world.

After all, it was inevitable.