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The Intervention

“Bingley, a moment, if you please,” Darcy addressed his friend a week later, just after returning from his morning ride.

The two friends entered the study, and Darcy asked, “Did you know your sister invited Miss Bennet to dine while we are with the officers?”

“I did not. I asked Caroline to get to know her, and it seems she is doing her best to ensure she comes and goes without speaking to me.”

“Rather neatly done,” Darcy chuckled, “or at least it would have been if I had not noticed the messenger, who happened to overhear the purpose of the note.”

“Just happened to?” Bingley asked sceptically.

“Yes, just happened to… after I ensured his pocket was less light than it had been, of course.”

Bingley chuckled. “So how shall we spike my sister’s guns.”

“Weeeeellllll,” Darcy dragged out, not having worked out a plan yet, but after a moment’s thoughts he had a plan.

“We are taking the chaise to dine with the officers. At this time of year, it seems likely Mr Bennet’s horses might be needed on the home farm. Stopping by Longbourn on the way to dinner would be neighbourly. If it transpires that Miss Bennet has any difficulties attending your sister, it would only be polite to deliver her to Netherfield, since it is right on the way. If she has use of the family carriage, no harm done. Either way, it is not as if missing half an hour of the officers’ conversations will be fatal. In fact, the only thing better than that would be missing an hour.”

Bingley laughed, the plan was hatched, and it worked flawlessly. They arrived at Longbourn in time to see Miss Bennet ill-advisedly riding for Netherfield on horseback, which she happily exchanged for a ride in their carriage. Naturally, they had a maid to act as chaperone (just in case).

When the rain started halfway back to Netherfield, both men were doubly happy they had implemented Darcy’s plan, and triply annoyed with Mrs Bennet who, it seemed, was more mercenary than expected. Neither man was particularly surprised by the development, but it did remind them to be cautious.

Darcy mentioned to his friend that he might wish to be a bit more subtle about showing too much overt favour until he was certain what he was about, as he was not that far from creating expectations.

Bingley said he would take it under advisement, which was good enough.

The rain continued late into the evening, so Miss Bennet was required to spend the night, much to some people’s delight and others’ disgust. The gentlemen returned her to Longbourn after breakfast, as was proper.

As it turned out, everyone was more or less satisfied with how things panned out. Mrs Bennet was satisfied that her plan worked even better than she had hoped, and neither gentleman mentioned that without Darcy’s intervention it would have hurt Miss Bennet’s prospects far more than it helped. Bingley got to spend more time in private conversation with Jane, which both found congenial. Since the invitation was Miss Bingley’s, she could not whinge about it (well, she should not have been able to, anyway). Darcy was happy to see his friend enjoying his time with the lady but tempering his enthusiasm just a touch.

He naturally visited with the ladies of Longbourn when he returned the eldest Miss Bennet, and during the course of the exchange, Miss Lydia browbeat Bingley into giving the ball he was planning to give anyway. Miss Bennet and Miss Mary frowned ferociously at their sister’s impropriety, but Miss Lydia was impervious to such weak rebukes. Darcy suspected she was impervious to anything short of a firing squad.

It seemed there was to be a ball on the 26thof November.

The Lesson

The Netherfield party arrived late to an evening of light supper and cards at the Philips’ house.

Their tardiness was primarily due to Miss Bingley’s apparent belief that the way to a man’s heart was to annoy him by making him wait on her every engagement. As far as Darcy could tell, she believed being late showed her to be fashionable, where it actually just made people wonder if she could not afford good clocks or competent maids.

He barely managed to get his coat off before he was assaulted by the two youngest Bennet sisters, along with Miss Maria Lucas. Before he could even make proper greetings, the three began babbling incoherently. They spent most of their time arguing back and forth about who would get to ask the question, or give the gossip, or whatever they were trying to accomplish.

Darcy somewhat enjoyed the banter, for even though it was probably the silliest bit of dialogue he had been exposed to in ages (or at least since the previous evening in the Netherfield drawing room), he let it go on for a minute or two before finally holding his hand for order. It was enjoyable in the way listening to a litter of puppies practice howling was (in moderation), but enough was enough.

“Ladies, may I make a suggestion?” he asked, holding both hands behind his back. “Choose a number between one and ten. The closest to the number of fingers I am holding tells the tale.”

Miss Catherine won the chance to ask the question, which she did with alacrity (probably because Miss Lydia had no qualms about interrupting or cheating).

“We have heard the most shocking thing, and it must be true because he is an officer and must be a gentleman… and he has truth in his looks… but I cannot possibly believe it… and he seems so upstanding… and an officer would not lie… and I cannot believe what he says… but how… what… how can he… but could you deny… and… well…”

Darcy raised his hand with more patience than he was really feeling, and suggested, “Miss Catherine, take a deep breath. Slow down,breathe, count to ten, and when you are calm, pray continue.”

She looked chagrined, and Miss Lydia started to jump in, but Darcy stared her down then looked encouragingly at Miss Catherine, who finally calmed down enough to ask, “Did you deny a man a living? I mean, I cannot believe it could possibly be true, but he—”

Darcy held his hand up to pause her and sighed in resignation. “Might the… ah… supposed-gentleman in question be Mr George Wickham?”

“Why yes!”