Posted on Wednesday, 10 January 2001

Author's Note: I have been convinced/coerced into posting this bit of silliness, which I wrote for Rachel after her mushies/angster plea. So for Rachel, Julie, and any other angst-lovers wishing for a quick chuckle I present:

A short story (because without the angst it can't be long)

Handsome, wealthy, amiable eligible Charles Bingley dragged his equally eligible, even more handsome and wealthy, but certainly less amiable friend Fitzwilliam Darcy to view his latest conquest (Netherfield, not Jane Bennet... that comes later)

Darcy, being of sound mind and body immediately recognized the mediocre value of such a property (again, the house, not the girl) and encouraged his friend to lease it; if only to give Bingley a place to take his terminally dull yet beautiful (it's my story, she can be beautiful if I want) sister Caroline. Darcy wanted her out of his house. Pemberley, for all its wondrous grandeur seemed painfully small with Caroline Bingley in residence. A man needed his space! In later centuries said space will be fully occupied by a large television (with picture-in-picture of course) and many sporting events (up to but not including pro-wrestling). Caroline Bingley was extremely efficient in crowding out his 'space'. A home of her own, pleasantly situated in the wilds of Hertfordshire, far away from Derbyshire, was a perfect remedy (not as perfect as a deserted island in the south pacific but Caroline hated boats).

Thus with Bingley happily ensconced as a scion of Hertfordshire society, if one could safely refer to one monthly assembly, 24 families, and only nine ladies of age to attend any such events, society, then Bingley was a happy man indeed.

Tonight, he would be even happier.

Tonight was the night Bingley was destined, by the powers that be and most authoresses, to meet the most perfect angel heaven condescended to let loose upon the earth. (Thankfully for our mild mannered hero Pamela Anderson had yet to be born.... NO She is not an angel but I doubt that Jane would have received more than a passing glance from any male... testosterone being what it is)

But other THINGS being what they were, Jane and Bingley fell instantly and Oscar & Hammerstein-ishley in love. Darcy, for his part, did not have a good time. It had nothing to do with Bingley's predilection for falling in love, and lest you think angst is being introduced, let me assure you that Darcy was in a foul and ugly mood simply because Caroline Bingley had contrived to grab his (er, how to put this... rear end) and now he had the willies. It was impossible to concentrate on dancing when one was forever checking behind him in an effort to avoid being grabbed again. This is, of course, the only explanation for his abominable behaviour to a certain young lady that evening, namely one Elizabeth Bennet. Who, at first glimpse, was so far from being merely tolerable, that she had the odd effect of making Darcy temporarily forget his own name, not to mention forgetting to watch for Miss Bingley, who managed to absently caress his posterior during that time. Darcy remained up against the wall for the rest of the evening. It was only prudent.

The Netherfield party and the Bennets encountered one another several more times, and each time Darcy felt the same mind numbing sensation at her presence. And each time Miss Bingley successfully drew his attention back to his back, leaving him surly and, well, uncomfortable.

Then one dark and stormy night Bingley and Darcy arrived home after dining with the officers of the recently arrived militia, to find Jane Bennet upstairs, asleep. Bingley immediately sought out the nearest rector to offer thanks for the miracle which caused this occurrence and then made a beeline for Jane's bedside, where he tenderly and gently professed his undying devotion to the angel. He had the foresight to make certain she was awake before this, thus sparing the reader and Jane many hours of trepidation and uncertainty.

Jane felt better the next morning and sent for the carriage, sparing Elizabeth a trip in the mud. Elizabeth arrived freshly pressed and beautiful. Mr. Darcy had been out walking on the lane, careful to avoid getting his trousers and coat full of mud. So intent on avoiding a mud puddle was he that our dear Mr. Darcy failed to notice the carriage containing one Elizabeth Bennet, until it knocked him off the lane and into the mud puddle. Darcy, who at first feared he had died and was being confronted by an angel, realized that:
A) he was not dead,
B) he was still confronted by an angel,
C) Bingley had no taste in angels, as this one was MUCH more interesting.

Darcy stammered a quick good morning before fainting.

Elizabeth was greatly amused at the sight of the proud Mr. Darcy muddied and unconscious. That all the man could think to say was 'good morning' after being nearly run over, made her reconsider that perhaps he wasn't as intelligent as she had thought; or he was a truly a proper gentleman. She chose the former: proper gentlemen did not have ladies like Miss Bingley surreptitiously caressing their posterior at public assemblies.

As the footman lifted Mr. Darcy into the carriage, Elizabeth was allowed a glimpse of the object of Miss Bingley's attention, and it came as a great shock to her to realized that she might be tempted to emulate Miss Bingley - BUT ONLY IN PRIVATE OF COURSE!

Mr. Darcy was deposited in his chambers, with his valet standing guard. Elizabeth, strangely reassured by the commanding presence of Mr. Darcy's valet, collected Jane and returned to Longbourn. Before the ladies left, Bingley wasted no time in securing Jane's hand for............. the first two dances, since it would be out of the question to propose this early in a story, even an angst-free version. Thus everything was set for the Netherfield Ball.

Mr. William Collins set out from Kent with high hopes of securing a wife from among his penniless cousins. For as everyone knows a penniless lady is in want of a husband, and cannot afford to be particular as to his personal habits. (Hey, I had to use that line SOMEWHERE). An event with felicitous tidings occurred during Mr. Collins trip to visit his fair and amiable, but as yet unknown cousins, he disappeared and without a trace. It is suspected by historians that EBE's were somehow involved, though at the time no such theory was ever put forth.

Collins disappearance was certainly a happy occurrence as it relieved the anxiety of the Bennet household, broke the entail (it's my universe, live with it), and brought a certain hazel-eyed, dark haired, you-get-the-dreamy-idea investigator named Mr. Mulder into the neighbourhood.

**Aside: Mulder appears courtesy of whoever writes that odd show, and solely for the gratuitous edification of Rachel for whom this story is written :)** Go Scully.

Now it must clearly be understood that Mr. Mulder was not interested in having a wife, hat fact alone would not have withstood the onslaught of Mrs. Bennet; however Mr. Mulder was also *GASP* an American, and as eager as she was to see her daughters comfortably established, this determination did not extend to shipping them across the sea to that horrid little wilderness. Mr. Bennet thought it all foolish and locked the library door.

The Bennet ladies were then walking into Meryton on a fateful day, which would in fact alter the course of their lives in many ways. With them was Mr. Mulder who, though handsome, did NOT wear a red coat, making him unworthy of the attentions of the younger two Misses Bennets. Mr. Mulder also told entertaining if somewhat ridiculous stories and professed a complete lack of faith in God, making him ineligible for Miss Mary Bennet, who demanded that her suitors (as soon as she was able to acquire some) must be able to hold a rational and intelligent discussion about piety. This left Mr. Mulder to Jane and Lizzy, and as Jane was completely in deep serious almost love with Mr. Bingley she had very little conversation beyond the joys and raptures of Mr. Bingley's perfections, it became Miss Elizabeth's job to amuse Mr. Mulder and if possible to 'secure him before their walk was through.' (From the Rules of Life According to Mrs. Bennet) Mr. Mulder thankfully was in no danger of that, but he did succeed in requesting her hand for the first two dances at the Netherfield Ball.

As they reached Meryton the group quickly accosted Captain Denny and was than introduced to Mr. Wickham. It was at this point Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy rode into town.

There are few things in life which may cause one to stop and immediately reconsider the direction their life is taking, the arrival of Mr. Darcy astride a magnificent black stallion (as if our dear boy would even consider anything less) caused Miss Elizabeth to think more than twice about the sight she beheld. Small imperfections are forgivable when the completed work of art is so outstandingly magnificent.

Darcy noticed little of this...
A) because he's a guy and they are notoriously dim about such things and
B) because he was too busy wishing horrible, messy, embarrassing revenge upon Mr. Wickham.

However Mr. Mulder noticed both Elizabeth's admiration and Darcy's preoccupation.

"Magnificent isn't he?" Mr. Mulder said softly in Elizabeth's ear.

"Mmmmagnificent?"

"Hmm. The stallion. He's magnificent. Just look at the strength in those muscles."

Elizabeth swallowed hard. "Yes."

"It's nice to meet someone else who can appreciate a good piece of horseflesh. So few women do you know." Mulder grinned and ambled away to inspect the braiding on Mr. Wickham's coat.

"Horseflesh." Elizabeth mumbled. She was staring blatantly and Darcy seeing this dismounted and approached the group.

"Miss Bennet."

"Oh, Mr. Darcy. Forgive me. Your horse is..."

"He's beautiful isn't he?"

She nodded.

"I never thanked you for rescuing me that day on the lane. My man tells me I was quite a sight when you brought me in. I doubt he'll ever forgive me for dulling the shine on my boots."

"Oh, well it was the least I could do after running you down. I mean... I couldn't just leave you there... Oh, I DO hope you are feeling better."

"Yes, I am thank you. Shall I see you at the ball?"

"The ball? Oh the Ball. Yes, I shall be there."

"Then perhaps I might ..."

"LIZZY!" Lydia's yowl reminded Elizabeth they needed to be going. She bid Darcy good day and hurried to catch her sisters.

Darcy hesitated and ran after her. "Miss Bennet. Might I count on a dance? With you that is. At the ball?"

"Yes, of course."

All the parties left Meryton that morning greatly pleased and angst free. (Except Mr. Wickham but I don't think the angst-free rating is in jeopardy if I torture Wickham by making Elizabeth impervious to his charms.)

The Netherfield Ball arrived. Gentlemen were pressed and polished. Ladies were poufed and perfumed. And even the servants had been bathed. Netherfield itself glittered like a gilded palace from Imperial Russia. And there was enough food to keep even Napoleon's army from starving, not that this would be an issue as Napoleon still resided happily at Elba.

And thus the course for the future was set:

Bingley, slightly drunk, proposed during the first set and then monopolized Jane for the evening. Mrs. Bennet was so very delighted her raptures caused her to faint away, or perhaps it had something to do with that neck rub Mr. Mulder obliged her with, since each time Mrs. Bennet awoke, Mulder gave her another and she promptly passed out again. (Mr. Bennet was later to be seen deeply in conversation with Mr. Mulder, each man making gestures to the neck)

Wickham attended the ball, and after having his posterior rejected by Miss Bingley, was latched onto by Miss Lydia Bennet, who clung like a barnacle. She chased him, until her caught her, which happened one day not to soon after the ball, when they were caught in the field, au natural, by Messers Bingley, Darcy, Mulder, and Bennet, (Mr. Hurst was sleeping off his mornings libations), who were out for a day of sport (read: SHOOTING).. At which point, faced with four men who had large.... guns, Wickham declared his undying devotion to Miss.... er ........ Lydia! And agreed to marry her post-haste. The lucky couple was soon treated to an elaborate wedding orchestrated by Mrs. Bennet, and a handsome wedding gift from Bingley & Darcy, (who for some mischievous purpose of their own, wanted Wickham far away) of a commission which sent the 'happy' couple as far north as the crown would allow. (Later circumstances allowed for them to go much further north.... and there was great rejoicing in the kingdom)

Elizabeth, discovering that Mr. Darcy was at least interesting (okay... bloody darn HOT!!!!) to admire, proceeded to admire him (from EVERY angle) and soon discovered that his character and temperament, were as pleasant and admirable as his other 'assets.' Mr. Darcy, already aware of Elizabeth's positive qualities, was pleased that she liked him for more than his money and position (insert rude joke here about 'positions' being appreciated AFTER they are married), wasted no time wooing and pursing her. They were married, in a double ceremony with Jane & Bingley of course, and Elizabeth was then allowed to indulge in her desires to caress Mr. Darcy's posterior, and Darcy, who previously hated the idea of having said body part caressed, found that when the caresser is one's wife the situation is indeed... very pleasant.

Epilogue: Since every good tale must have an epilogue I include one such that I might claim to present at least one work of notable merit. And what more proper (yes I know it's bad grammer... my universe, my rules :)) So... what BETTER subject for an epilogue than the fates of the remaining sisters Bennet (well the wedding night of Lizzy & Darcy but this IS a PG tale).

I can think of no better fate for Misses Mary and Kitty than what is found in Shem's universe. Thus under the cover of night, and while she's away and can't yell at me, I'm 'borrowing' Lord Ashbourne and Sir Christian and marrying them off to Kitty and Mary respectively.

And they all lived happily ever after :)