The Secret Life of Gentlemen

Saira

Posted on Sunday, 26 September 2004, at 5:48 p.m.

Introduction:
It is a truth universally acknowledged that the English Gentleman is a most peculiar species. Little is openly known of the Gentleman's doings, and this article attempts to un-earth the Gentleman's most precious pass-time: the Club.
The Gentleman searches for the closest opportunity to run off to his club and what pleasures or solace he finds there are unknown to the English Lady, except perhaps a game of cards and a meal with an acquaintance. And so, it is the intent of this author to bring to light the hidden habits and happenings behind a Gentleman's Club doors...

At the Club

It was almost noon as Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy hurried down the staircase and off to the music room of his London townhouse.
"Good Morning Georgie! What have you planned for yourself today?" asked he.

"Well, I believe Miss Bingley is to call at noon. I'm sure we'll have a delightful time planning your entrapment as her husband!" teased the sister.

"Ah, Georgiana dear," replied he, nervously, "I have an appointment at my club with Bingley, and I shall probably be lunching there as well. Do let Miss Bingley know that I am sorry to have missed her company."

"Yes, William. I'll let Miss Bingley know that the very thought of spending time in her company is cause for queasiness for you. Enjoy yourself brother," Said she.

"Goodbye then!" said Darcy as he hurried to the door.

"Goodbye..." replied she to her brother's tailcoat as he rushed off.

And so our Gentleman sojourns on to his haven of sanity.

At the front entrance as he waits for Mr. Bingley, he recognizes an old college mate.

"John! How are you old man?" cries Darcy. Mr. John Willoughby jumps and turns, his face white and hands shaking.

"Oh...g-g-goodness, it's you Darcy. Aren't you looking swell? I'm just coming in for a bit of therapy."
Here, the poor man broke out in a sweat and grabbed onto the lapels of Mr. Darcy's coat.

"I can't take it anymore man!" Mr. Darcy's sedate eyes widen at this show of anguish from his otherwise sophisticated friend.
"She was so lovely when we married, and now, not five years later, she's a fat, jabbering twit! What am I to do with my wife? Help me Darcy! Help me!!" And he shook Mr. Darcy for emphasis.

Mr. Darcy was quite afraid of his friend by this point, and was questioning the man's sanity.
Just then, an attendant of the club gently took Mr. Willoughby by the shoulders and pried his shaking fingers from Mr. Darcy's coat. Mr. Willoughby had the expression of a crazed man on his face: his blue eyes were popped wide open and one was twitching. He looked quite petrified.
The attendant slowly led Mr. Willoughby into the club, and called to one of the serving boys,
"Oi! Jimmy! See that Willoughby here gets a pint, and makes it to the 'Henpecked Anonymous' meeting in half an hour."

Mr. Darcy, who had been observing the dramatic scene, asked of the attendant, "Will he...be...alright?"

"Aye, you've never seen them crack, have you laddy?" Mr. Darcy shook his head. "Aye. I've seen them, poor blokes, they are, these members of the 'Henpecked Anonymous.' You just make sure you marry wisely young man.

And with that, the sage old attendant walked off to greet another club-member: Mr. Thomas Bennet.
"Not too late for the 'H.A' meting, am I James?" asked Mr. Bennet of the attendant.
"Not at all Mr. Bennet! Please, come in."
Mr. Darcy greeted Mr. Bennet quite warmly. The members of a club always met each other with camaraderie, despite any outstanding facades of indifference they upheld in society.
"Hullo Mr. Bennet!" cried Darcy, "Is this not a delightful surprise! I did not know you were to be in town."

"Yes, yes, Darcy! And might I say your aloofness tactic with the women is simply marvelous! I can hardly believe I did not think of it myself to fend off the annoying stream of girls on my tail in the old days. Just be careful not to anger my Elizabeth, now. A repetition of that foolish proposal at Hunsford would put the icing on your cake of marital doom." Said the wry man with a twinkle in his eye.

"Sir?! Have you been sneaking into the Bachelor Confessional Hearings once again?" sputtered an embarrassed Mr. Darcy.

"Ah, you'll do just fine for my Lizzy, Darcy." Said the elder gentleman as he made his way into the club.
The Bachelor Confessional Hearings were established for love-sick young men to spout the woes of their love-lives, and to be advised on how to propose. Not two days ago, Charles Bingley was receiving a proposal tutorial from the great master himself, Sir E. McGregor. Darcy had decided to rant about Elizabeth's impertinent manners (and fine eyes) to Mr. Ioan Gruffudd.

And now, back to our present story...

Mr. Bingley had finally managed to escape the clutches of Caroline Bingley, who had been imploring him in a most whiny manner to take her along to the club to visit one F. Darcy.
He rushed into the lobby, looking just a tad bit frantic and out of breath.
"Bingley! There you are. I thought you'd never come!" cried Darcy.

"Sorry Darcy," replied his baffled friend, "But I just barely managed to leave the house without Caroline. She insisted on coming along!" this last was said in loud exasperation. The entire group of gentlemen assembled in the lobby of the club let out a collective gasp. Even mention of a woman being allowed into the club was pure torture for their ears.
"Charles, how many times must I tell you? You need professional help with your sister! She's a madwoman for G-d's sake. Why, when I was at Netherfield, she snuck into my room at night and..."

Mr. Darcy would have continued, had Mr. Bingley not quickly shushed him, "Ah, Darcy, we do have that seminar to attend!"

"Yes, yes," replied Darcy, "come along then."

And the two gentlemen made their way to the real entrance into the club. As they came to the large door, a guard halted them, and asked them to perform the 'secret handshake.'
Darcy rolled his eyes, whilst his companion looked excited. For some odd reason, Bingley found this part of the club the most amusing.
And so the secret handshake began: Darcy spat into his right hand, and then shook Bingley's own spitty hand. Then, he slapped his friend's hand, front and back, then formed a fist and hit the other's hand, top and bottom. And last, but certainly not least, they both turned around in circles till they saw pretty stars, and then smacked their backside against that of their companion.
The guard nodded gravely, and allowed them entry.

To the untrained eye, the front room of this club looked not one bit abnormal. There were card tables and meal tables, and a few lounges with sofas for indulging in intelligent conversation, (an aspect of life the gentleman thought was quite lost to him when he married), and strong beverages.

Yet, upon closer observation, one could see a few poorly camouflaged panels and doors in the walls that lead to the real goings-on of this club.
Darcy and Bingley walked up to the bar-table, and under the pretense of buying a whiskey, the men inquired about their meeting.
"Ahem, excuse me good sir, but would you mind giving us our entry tickets for," and here Bingley cut off to lean forward and whisper; the attendant leaned in too, "seminar 2A?"
The attendant eyed the young men warily, before asking, in the same whispering manner, "All right, what's the pass phrase, then?"

"Oh, ah...frolly lolly...no um, squeezy lemon peezy? No? ah, well...jiminy himiny...no, wait..." stuttered our poor Charles.

"Oh, for pete's sake Charles, it's Jiminy Crickets this week!" interrupted Darcy in the same conspiratorial manner.

"Correct." Replied the attendant, "here are your tickets, gentlemen, and a list of today's activities. Enjoy your visit!"

They collected their materials and went in search of the seminar room. As they neared one of the panels, they heard loud exclamations and some very colorful word choices coming from inside.
"Well!" exclaimed Bingley as he looked at the brochure, "that must be the Cursory Competition!"
Upon hearing this, Darcy held a look of mild interest and intrigue on his handsome face. Bingley continued, "Delightful how they've provided a place for us to voice what must otherwise be withheld in the presence of a lady's gentle ears." Darcy yawned, and they walked on to the next panel, nodding to a few acquaintances as they went.

They passed a bulletin board and paused to read it.
"Hmm...this sounds interesting. 'Seminar 3B to be held on December 15, 18--. Will be discussing how to make a Lady's heart go pitter-patter and make her knees buckle. (This is especially for you love-sick puppies). Guest speakers will be Mr. Colin Firth, Mr. Edward Ferrars and Captain Frederick Wentworth.'" Read Bingley.

"I think I should attend this one Bingley. I'm beginning to lose my touch..." and he was lost in the reveries of Elizabeth Bennet's all-too-pleasing figure and all-too-clever mind for a moment."

Bingley, who was also lost in the reveries of another Miss Bennet, shook of his stance and continued perusing the announcements. "Oh! Oh! Look at this one Darce!" cried Bingley excitedly, " 'Are you one of the few, brave gentleman who isn't content with sitting at home drinking port while staring into the fireplace and contemplating the meaning of life?! Then come join the Brotherhood of Super Heroes and Secret Agents.* We make it our duty to thrash and lock up rogues, robbers and mischievous men, since the Bobbies really do nothing. Are you ready for a life of danger?' Goodness! Darcy I want to join up!"

"Trust me, pup, you wouldn't last a week. Besides, it's a down-right bloody waste of time." Replied Darcy, while he made a mental note to attend the next meeting. 'Didn't I hear a rumour somewhere that women appreciate a man of mystery? Perhaps Miss Elizabeth shares the opinion?' thought he.

Charles merely pouted and they continued on in the search for the meeting room. Bingley thought he'd found it, and he burst in, but was met with a dozen or so men sitting with large hooded capes, pulled over their faces. One man with a familiar voice was speaking,
"...And then she persists in having me visit every eligible gentleman in the neighborhood so my daughters will marry them. What sort of madness do you call that, eh?"

The rest of the attendees chanted their mantra, "Forsake the cluckers! Forsake the cluckers!" The first speaker began talking again.

"And now that she's turning into an old, crocky bat, she wears these smelly creams and puts cucumbers on her eyes at night. She's turning into a right monster I tell yer!"

The man sat back down, and the leader, who sported a gold, chicken shaped pin, spoke "Thank you, sir. I'm very glad to see we're all opening up to admit the faults of the cluckers. Let us conclude this meeting's hearings with prayer..." and they all rose. Bingley and Darcy tried to inconspicuously creep out now, but the first few words of the 'prayer' was not lost to them:
"Dear Lord, Preserve us from our wives,
Deliver us from those forsaken cluckers..."

When Bingley and Darcy were out, they gave each other odd looks, then shook their heads. They proceeded on to the last panel-door and knocked.

A servant opened the door, and looked them up and down with suspicion before asking for their tickets. They held them out and were allowed entry. They quickly found seats, as the seminar had already begun. The speaker had just begun speaking,
"Hello Gentlemen, my name is Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam, and as a man of uniform, I believe I'm more than qualified to speak with you about avoiding unwanted admirers."
Darcy hid his shock upon seeing his own cousin speaking to him on such a subject. His embarrassment was apparent however, since he did not want to be caught alive in such a meeting. 'He'll never let me forget this!' thought he frantically as he tried to creep out. The Colonel's eyes were sharp, however, and he spied his cousin crawling to the door. His eyes lit up with glee.

"Ah! Fitzwilliam! Jolly good surprise to see you here! Come, join us. I need an assistant anyhow to show the chaps here an example."
Darcy cringed and got up and walked to the stage, mustering up all the dignity he could.
The Colonel could hardly suppress his chuckles as Darcy walked up, but continued with his speech.
"Now, gentleman, let us pretend Darcy is a fawning, mercenary young lady." Darcy's eyes popped open at this information. A few of the gentleman chuckled.
The Colonel continued, "I will show you a series of maneuvers today that will help you avoid her. Now, here Darcy, you need some props. Take his fan" Darcy pinched the frilly pink fan between his thumb and forefinger. "Now, go to the other end of the room, and walk towards me." Darcy did as he was told.
"Come on Darce! You can do better than that! Wave that fan now...wave it! There you are, good lad," interrupted an amused Bingley.
"Here, gentleman," said the Colonel, "we see the predator approach. We have a glass of punch, ready at hand, and when 'she' comes close enough, we SPLASH!" Darcy stood there, grim faced and dripping wet. He swiped one hand over his miserably wet face. The entire crowd burst with laughter. "And there we have it. This tactic may make you look a bit clumsy, but at least we have deterred the opposition's purpose.

Now, here is our second example. No, no, don't go anywhere Darcy. We still need you." The Colonel smirked. "Now, Darcy, talk to me about lace, frills, and the nonsensical frolicking you women do."
Darcy sighed and began, "Oh, and Colonel it was just last week that I found this absolutely delicious dress in an opaque olive. Wouldn't you agree that I'd look too lovely in it?" Darcy, and all the other gentlemen in the room cringed as Darcy said this.
"Good, good, Darcy, keep going. All right gentlemen, this is where we get to work. We should, gasp, curse under our breaths, and point at nothing in particular all at once, before running out of the room. This may cause some commotion, yet again, at least you have distanced yourself from the opponent.

"Now, for the last example Darcy, I need you to be a normal gentleman. I know you'll hate parting with that fan, but that's just your rotten luck, eh?
Now, stand a bit off to the side, while I have an imaginary conversation with this lady. All a sudden, in the middle of our conversation, I'll drag Darce in, and introduce him: 'Miss Cogsworth, have you met my dear friend Darcy? Do you not think him the most handsome of men? Ah, and yes, he does have 10,000 pounds a year, enough to buy you all the pretty laces you'd desire!' And with this, gentlemen, you slink off, and leave the enemy to devour your poor friend alive!" The audience broke into heartfelt applause and cheers, while the admirable lecturer bowed in acknowledgement.

"Thank you very much for attending this session, and please do come to the next seminar, 2B, where we will be discussing the advanced tactics. Good afternoon!" The Colonel hopped of his podium, giving Darcy a sly smile before exiting the room. Darcy just ran a hand through his hair, grabbed Bingley and walked out.
On their way out, they noticed one William Collins selling illegal sedative drugs to give to one's wife. The burly attendant, James, noticed Collins out of the corner of his eye, and walked over to him. He began pulling at Collin's fat face.
" I know y're a woman! Demmed mask can't fool me! Come on, ye old hag, let up! We'll take you to the authorities directly!"
And amongst the cries of Collins being pulled off to a back room, Darcy and Bingley performed their secret handshake once more, and left-to re-enter the world of swishy dresses and brainless twits.

Le fin

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