It took him more than a single moment to work out that the strange moaning noise was coming from his own throat. His head pounded brutally as he tried to work out just what he'd been drinking last night.

After several minutes of rolling and groaning he felt brave enough to pry one sticky eyelid open, slamming it shut immediately at the unforgiving brightness of the morning light.

It had to be Sam. They seemed to make it a personal mission to make Tav drink every disgusting, sickly concoction of spirits their twisted mind could come up with. Mainly because he'd made the mistake of admitting he wasn't technically allowed to drink when he'd first met them, three years earlier. Now he was legally allowed to drink in every country he could think of, but it didn't stop Sam.

Tav would have his revenge. He'd just have to think of something. And not now. Now was for extra-strength Tylenol and maybe another little nap. And a bacon sandwich.

Well, he could only do one of those things without having to move, so he closed his eyes again and let blessed sleep suck him under.

Too soon, he awoke again, with a desperate need for water and to pee. Probably not in that order. The light was even sharper as he sat up, though thankfully his headache had eased. It took a moment for his pupils to get used to the vicious light. Which was why, when they finally cleared, he was extremely unready for there to be a girl in his room. He screamed in a humiliatingly high tone, immediately chasing it with a hot blush.

"Wha-," is all he managed, as the girl averted her eyes and backed out of the room.

"Oh, Sir, I'm so sorry."

He couldn't help but notice she didn't actually sound sorry, and had rather a smug grin on her face, and he pulled the sheets up with a yelp when he realized he was shirtless.

Was he in a hotel? The girl had been wearing a chambermaid outfit. One of those big white apron-things. Her dress was a bit weird though. Why would he be in a hotel? And a fancy one, now that he was finally able to focus enough to look around the room. If it was Sam, they were taking their pranks to a whole new level.

He was in an actual four-poster bed, and the rest of the room was no less impressive, if extremely old-fashioned. There were more chairs, of various extravagant styles and fabrics, than any one person could be reasonably expected to sit on in a single hotel stay. The walls seemed to be covered in a heavily patterned paper, or maybe it was even fabric, that was doing his newly recovered eyes no good at all. The floor was thankfully simple wood, even if the huge rug was also patterned insanely, and differently to the walls. The windows were large, hence all the light, though they were covered in lots of small panes, like a lot of the buildings around the university. Maybe he was in one of them.

He stood, legs a little shaky, and tottered over to the window, letting out a confused whimper when he saw the view of the rolling countryside. Not the university. Had Sam got him blackout drunk and abandoned him in the middle of nowhere?

There was a brief knock on the door and the maid was back, pretending to avert her eyes, though he could tell she was copping a good look at his boxer-clad form. He was beyond caring about that now, though. He needed to find out where he was and get back to the city.

"Excuse me, miss. Which hotel is this? Is there a station close by?"

"Sir?" Her appreciative gaze shifted to something strangely fearful, as she backed toward the doorway. "What do you mean? And what on earth are those undergarments? Is that some new fashion in London? And your speech too?" Her eyes narrowed in apparent suspicion for a moment before she shook her head. "Sir, you must dress. Her Ladyship is waiting in the Morning Room."

Tav stared open mouthed as he tried to work out what she meant. He didn't know any 'ladyship'. Why would he be having a meeting with some aristocrat anyway? And why did she think he'd come from London? Sam hadn't taken him to London, had they? Normally he'd be sure the answer was no, but nothing seemed normal right now. He tried to think, but there was a terrifying blankness in his memories. He couldn't even remember drinking with Sam. The last thing he had any memory of was re-reading his favourite novel for the millionth time in the pillow fort he'd made by his dorm room window while a thunderstorm raged outside. 

After a long minute where the only thing he could hear was the cogs in his own mind resolutely not making connections, the maid sighed. "I shouldn't do this, but her Ladyship will undoubtedly have my neck if you've been in your cups and are insensible meeting the girl, even if she is a total wet lettuce. Come here and let me dress you."

Tav's mouth opened and shut as he tried to work out how to respond, and then it hit him. Of course, she must be one of Sam's buddies from that theatre crew. Wow, Sam really was pushing the boat out. He wondered what he must have inadvertently done to annoy them if they were going to such lengths for a prank.

Fine. If they wanted to go that far; just bloody-well fine. Didn't mean they were going to win. Tav figured the best way to win this war was to go with it, act like it was all perfectly normal, and not give Sam the satisfaction of breaking him.

"Fine, my lady, if you find me some appropriate garments I will don them post-haste."

The maid sent him a look that would have him running if he hadn't resolved to see it through. Perhaps he'd have to tone it down a notch to win the battle.

When he was dressed in some very weird pants with no zipper and a lot of strange flaps – and had been forced to pee into a pot as the maid insisted there were no other options with the time they had (and had looked extremely confused at his insistence that there must be a toilet somewhere), he followed her down the wide staircase and into a room that was violently, virulently yellow. It looked like the inside of a daffodil. So much so that it took several moments for him to realize that there was someone waiting for him.

She stood, and it was with the gravitas and impact of a frigate moving through the ocean that she approached him, stopping with a metre to spare and eyeing him somewhat distastefully.  

"Well, your Lordship. You look well. A little thin. Take care, your face will become sharp. And you're looking extremely healthful. Perhaps a touch too much so. Have you been spending time taking the air, you're awfully brown?"

He stared, taking in the barrage of judgement she had thrown but unsure what he was meant to do with it.

"Sorry." Though he realised what a stupid statement it was as soon as it was out of his mouth. What was he sorry for? Looking exactly like himself?

"It can't be helped, I suppose. It could be worse. You'll have to do. At least it's not my daughter." It took the cake in backhanded compliments and Tav had no idea whether he should respond. Presumably not, as she continued shrilly. "But what is wrong with your voice? Have you caught a chill?"

Another person questioning his perfectly normal American accent. Oh well, he could play this game too.

"Of course not, er, your Ladyship," he said, affecting the best over the top British accent he could. He expected it to make her laugh, but she just nodded, murmuring 'good' as she returned to her seat. He had nothing left to do but to take his own seat across from her.

They ate for a while in awkward silence, but Tav was determined not to crack. Finally, the woman put her knife down and turned to face him more fully.

"My nephew seems to think you are an acceptable match for my niece. I know he wants someone bland who will be kind to her." 

Tav couldn't help the brow-wrinkling confusion and she looked at him even more sharply than the maid had. He'd do a lot not to bow to Sam's silly joke, but pretending to be straight might be a step too far.  The woman was being incredibly rude, though. Sam probably thought it would make him lose his temper, but he wasn't going to be got that easily.

"Well, I certainly am kind, your Ladyship."

"Anything else I should know about before we go ahead?"

He wanted to ask 'with what', but it would feel like a loss, even if he was increasingly confused and increasingly put out. She huffed, waiting for his response, but he had nothing.

She glanced to the doorway, checking they were alone, leaning in.

"I know you have money, not that the girl needs it, and I presume Fitzwilliam checked you have no personal scandal, or he wouldn't have invited you. What about family?"

"My father-,"

"Don't tell me he was in the asylum when he died? That would put a stop to everything. I'm not inviting lunacy into this family."

Everything the woman said was cold and coated in cruelty, but that was beyond the pale. Regardless of his desire to win this prank, Tav wasn't going to let such an offense to his very much alive father go. But before he could find the words, she rose, creaking, from her seat and travelled to the window.

"We will discuss it further, young man. They have arrived, and you can meet your betrothed."

"My what?"

The woman was almost out of the door before he managed to get the words out and she turned to him with a look of utmost surprise.

"Why, your fiancée, of course, Lord Greencester. My niece, Georgiana, of course. Georgiana Darcy." 

This play was getting more confusing by the moment.

He was seeing the signs this was Regency. The outfits, the way the old woman was speaking, the décor. The name. It made sense. Sam was obsessed with Regency. They were a history undergrad, though that didn't actually explain it, because it was studying royal lines and historic contexts. As far as Regency went, it was the romance Sam loved. The history came second. But they were who had got Tav hooked on Jane Austen, and they knew it. So, that must be why that choice had been made. But it didn't explain any of the rest of it. 

"Really? We're going to play like some character from a book has come to life?"

"What are you talking about?" The woman narrowed her eyes. "Are you feeling quite well, Lord Greencester? You don't have a fever, do you?" Her nose screwed up in disgust and she backed away.

He let her go. This was too much, and his headache was returning. She must be the horrible aunt, Lady Catherine De Bourgh, and she really was playing the character to a tee. Tav suddenly wanted to end this, wanted to force her to break character and simply tell him what the hell was going on. Sam loved pranks, but they'd never been cruel or pushy with them, and this one was sending Tav to the edge. He was sure Sam hadn't meant that by it. So he wouldn't really be losing if he made the woman explain, would he?

He followed her direction entering the wide entrance hall. She'd said 'they' were back, so he half expected her to be waiting there with whoever was playing Darcy and Georgiana, but she was gone, and there was only the maid there, polishing a side table and only glancing up to give him a narrow-eyed glare. 

It was too much, and he almost stumbled escaping to the broad, open front door, and out into the bright, morning light.

A/N: chapter one in an entry in the 2021 ONC. More will be coming for the second round, so if you like it, please vote and add it to your library for future updates.