Posted on Friday, 20 September 2002
Darcy crossed his arms resolutely and assumed his sternest expression. "No."
"What do you mean, no? You've got a pond scene coming up, so I suggest you high-tail your breeches down to the water."
"I believe you will find that, excluding any Bingley manipulation, I am generally regarded as a man of my word. Therefore, when I say no: I. Mean. NO." A hard glint added to the menace of his expression. The authoress would have snapped her pencil in twain, but was unable to do so, after realizing that she was writing with a keyboard. Though this sadly prevented her from portraying the 'don't mess with me' attitude she was going for, she maintained her composure.
"Darcy, Darcy my dear boy," she began in a sweetly condescending tone, "What have you got against a pond scene? It's a hot day, the humidity's up. What could be more refreshing than a quick dip in the pond? Followed, of course, by a reunion scene with Elizabeth. Come on, then, what is there to complain about?" Darcy sighed. "Do you know how embarrassing it is to suddenly run into your destiny half-dressed and sopping wet? Oh, there's plenty to complain about. There is too much to get into right now. To simplify, if you forced me to go through with this pond scene, you would be violating my First Amendment rights."
"What the heck? You're British! You don't have First Amendment rights. You might have British rights of some sort, but my knowledge of them gets kind of hazy after the Magna Carta. And besides, which First Amendment rights are we talking about, here?"
"Freedom of religion. I have completed my conversion ceremonies. I am now an Orthodox Janeite. The pond scene was not in the book, and the book is cannon. The pond scene is not cannon. You can't make me do it." Darcy became the visible personification of smugness.
"Oh ho ho! Well, there, Mister Holier than thou, you do realize that you're restricting yourself to point-of-view fan-fics? No what-if's, modern versions, or speedier resolutions for you. Of course," she tilted her head and rubbed her nose thoughtfully, "That also means you get to avoid all of those angst fests floating around out there. But I digress. So, are you willing to restrict yourself to point-of-view fics?" Darcy smiled.
"One does not become an O. J. thoughtlessly. I have not yet learned to condemn my decision. Yes, I can deal."
He gazed curiously at the authoress. "Besides, why are you so eager to have a pond scene? I thought you preferred the original version of the meeting. Though one must take what one hears through the Austen Gossip Mongers with a grain of salt, I have heard this too often to have occasion to doubt its veracity. "
The authoress started, and glanced around furtively. She hadn't realized she'd been infiltrated by the AGM. She'd have to get the military men together later and form a security team.
"Okay, first of all, I think that you're just trying to distract me from the real issue here, but I think that you deserve an answer. Though I do have Orthodox Reunionist tendencies, they are outweighed by my Curious Water-Plant obsession, and what better way to incorporate the Curious Water-Plant than through a pond scene? Of course, the wet shirt is an added inducement," she continued, but a floored Darcy didn't hear.
Curious Water-Plant? What the...oh. Fortunately, his being an actual character and all made him familiar with the text, so he could identify the reference. Chapter I, Volume III, or for those with the non-volumized text, Chapter 43.
"You will persist in torturing me just to include a bit of vegetation in your story?!" Water-plants. Ewww.
"To put it bluntly, yes. And besides, I can refute your refusal. Now, we can do this two ways. One with Mr. Collins, or one without. Need I ask which you'd prefer?" Darcy grimaced.
"Sans Collins, by all means," he decided eagerly. Unfortunately for all parties concerned, the Collins-meister had just been walking by the door of the conference room and had heard his name.
"Might I be of service?" he asked obsequiously, sticking his oily 1995 A&E/BBC version head in the doorway.
"Oh, it just had to be the oily one. See what not sticking to cannon gets you?"
"Shut up, Darcy." She motioned to Mr. Collins. "Yes, come on in Mr. Collins. Now, you are a clergyman, so answer me this: Are you or are you not a clergyman of the Church of England?"
"Oh, most gracious and kind authoress, I am, most decidedly. Indeed, I am most fortunate to have been granted rectory of the parish at Rosings by the Right Noble Lady Catherine de Bourgh." The authoress interrupted him hastily before he could continue with his laudation.
"Yes, that's all well and good. You know," she said, turning to Darcy, "He's annoying, but he really does a lot for the ego."
Then, continuing with her questioning, "And Mr. Collins, does Mr. Darcy belong to said Church?" Mr. Collins nodded enthusiastically, jowls flapping. Before he could launch into another stream of praises, the authoress silenced him with a Lady Catherine-esque gesture. Darcy, in the meanwhile, had begun to pout, suspecting where all of this was leading.
"Ah, and now we come to the point. Darcy, according to cannon, you're a member of the C of E. So, rather paradoxically, your conversion is null and void, because, again according to cannon, you cannot be a member of the O. J.'s, because it would go against your cannon status. Do you see now why it is in your best interests to just go with the flow, if you will?" The authoress then had to sit down, as she felt rather drained by this exercise in logic. Darcy felt the need to vent his frustration, and so surreptitiously stuck out his foot and tripped Collins, who was, at the moment, on his way over to count the number of bricks in the conference room chimney. Collins looked up at Darcy with a pained expression in his eyes.
"Why, Darcy, why? Oh, did it have to end like this? I'm too young to die!! I had so much potential..."
"Shut up, Collins. You're not going to die. At worst, you'll have a concussion. Now, they don't hurt too much, so stop blubbering. I don't want to have to mop the floor. This authoress seems slightly touched, if you know what I'm saying, and I don't know what she might make me do." Mr. Collins thought for a moment, and allowed Darcy's point. By this point, the authoress had regained her energy, and walked over to the two men.
"Hey, what did you do to Collins? Anyway, so what's the deal here? Is the pond scene a go ahead? Frankly, I don't know what you were thinking. Is Orthodox Janiteism even a registered religious organization?" Darcy looked around sheepishly.
"Well, I actually made that up. I even had Wickham forge some certificates and stuff for me. He actually did quite a fine job. Maybe that man does have a future in front of him after all!" The authoress looked at Darcy strangely for a moment as he pulled the documents out of his jacket and flourished them proudly.
"Okay then. Well. You seemed pretty adamant about not doing the pond scene earlier. Now, be serious. Why do you really not want to do it?" The cross expression took up headquarters on Darcy's face once again.
"Laundry bills."
"What?!"
"You heard me, laundry bills. Have you ever jumped into that pond? Well, you're probably the wrong person to go to for sympathy, in light of your Curious Water-Plant obsession, but really, they stain. You should see how mildewed my clothes get. And the smell! Whew! They reek. You don't know how many times my valet has threatened to quit. I'm a fastidious gentleman; the book says so. I really can't stand messy clothes. To keep my valet from quitting, I've been sending my clothes to a local laundryman in Lambton. (Hey, how's that for alliteration?) Even for a man of 10,000 a year, those constant laundry bills are getting to be a bit of a drain."
"Oh, Darcy, I had no idea. I'm sure we can work out some sort of reimbursement arrangement with the Guild. I'm sure there are plenty of wet-shirt enthusiasts out there who'd be willing to help. Or maybe even some closet Curious Water-Plant enthusiasts. What do you say?" Darcy considered her offer, and finally came to a decision.
"If you take care of the laundry arrangements, I'll go jump in the lake, err, pond." The authoress smiled in satisfaction, and extended her hand to Darcy, who took it with a grin.
"Now go to it, man." She commanded. Darcy complied, and as he headed to the Austen Shuttle Service that would take him directly to the pond, he thought to himself, maybe this authoress isn't so bad after all.
Meanwhile, the authoress continued smiling until Darcy was out of sight, and then turned to Collins. She took a metal canister plastered with radioactivity warnings out of her purse and handed it to Collins.
"Here," she said, "Take the B-line down to the pond, you'll get there first. When you're there, sprinkle this on all of the Curious Water-Plants you can find. When you're finished, get out of sight as quickly as possible, and report back to me." Collins smirked knowingly as he left the conference room. An evil glint appeared in the authoress's eyes.
"Poor Darcy. I forgot to tell him that this was going to be a science fiction fic." She reached over to her tape player and cued the ominous music. It was going to be a fine day at Pemberley.