Quotes bolded and italicized from Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice. Characters, places and situations from Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice and P. G. Wodehouse's Jeeves novels and works. None belong to me. Told in first person from the point of view of Mr Darcy from Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice.

"… You were the last man in the world whom I could ever be prevailed on to marry."

Oh, how the words stung me. I strode back towards Rosings Park, the cruel pain from Miss Elizabeth Bennet's succinct refusal gradually giving way to the numbing haze of supreme bewilderment. I'd never imagined this outcome; it was entirely outside my realm of experience. Therefore, upon entering my temporary quarters, I summoned the single remaining faculty at my disposal that could possibly save the situation.

I summoned Jeeves.

"Jeeves," I addressed the owner of the handle, "I have need of your assistance."

"Indeed, sir?" inquired the imperturbable individual.

"This is no time for 'Indeed, sir'," I explained, exasperated. "I'm at my wits' end. Jeeves, Miss Bennet has refused me."

"Is that so, sir?"

I stared at the man. You would have thought from his behaviour that this piece of information was as trivial and expected as that announcing that the weather was fine (It was), or that Mr Hurst wished to play cards after dinner (He generally did). It was not to be borne.

"It is so, Jeeves! And it ought not to be so! Have you ever heard of a young woman refusing an offer of marriage to me before?"

"No, sir," Jeeves replied, moving to open the drapes. The way he pursed his lips while doing so somehow seemed intentionally to remind me that no young woman ever had an offer of marriage to refuse me prior to this day. How Jeeves managed to indicate this by the deliberate placing of the L is beyond me, but there it was. I somehow found it within my forbearing heart to overlook it.

"Jeeves," I began, finding it necessary to front my request with a few precursors. "Is it not true that your forefathers have been in service to my own since time immemorial?"

"I should perhaps not employ the phrase 'time immemorial', sir, but certainly this has been the case for these two centuries at the minimum," Jeeves agreed, of a sort.

"And in order for this prime institution to continue in the same vein, there must needs exist a Mrs Darcy. Am I wrong, Jeeves?"

"That would certainly seem to be the case, sir."

"Therefore, to preserve the order of the Pemberly, nay, I should say the British way of life, you must – I stress the word must, Jeeves – assist me in persuading Miss Bennet to become my wife. No other woman will do, Jeeves. I am absolutely convinced of this."

"I think I understand the situation, sir."

"Very good, Jeeves. What would you advise?"

"I shall have to give this matter some thought, sir. In the meantime, I think it would be well to write a letter to the young lady."

"A letter, Jeeves?"

"Yes, sir. From what I gather, Miss Bennet may be somewhat misinformed regarding certain situations pertinent to your suit. I think a letter, well thought out and very clear on all misrepresented issues, would be especially suitable for a young lady of Miss Bennet's temperament."

"There is something in what you say, Jeeves. Especially in regards to that blasted scoundrel, Wickham. I shall get on with it at once." I rolled up the sleeves and reached for the old quill and ink. Unfortunately, they left quite a blot on Aunt Catherine's third-best writing desk when my hand was stalled by a sudden revelation.

"Jeeves," I called.

"Yes, sir?"

"How exactly are you so well acquainted with the content of my past conversation with Miss Bennet?"

"An assistant maid in Mrs Collins' employ who happened to overhear it divulged some of the details, sir. She is a niece of mine."

"Is that so?" I stroked the quill thoughtfully, brows bent on the noble visage. "No chance of the details being shared beyond the family, is there, Jeeves?"

"I should think not, sir," Jeeves pronounced, drawing himself up with a quirk of an affronted eyebrow.

"I didn't suspect it for a minute, Jeeves," I proclaimed, once again setting myself to the task of marking up the old parchment.

I was speaking the truth. It had been less than a minute.