The Annoying Truth ~ Section I

Sofie

Beginning, Next Section

Jump to new as of March 28, 2006

Chapter One

Posted on Tuesday, 2 August 2005, at 11:46 a.m.

There are truths and there are truths. Some are universal; some are simply annoying. The truth that Elizabeth was contemplating with frustration was that her mother, in her zeal to marry all her daughters off stunningly, especially Jane, was about to cause her entire family great social embarrassment, with the possible exception of Lydia who would do her utmost to embarrass her sisters as well, though only with her own ambitions in mind. Elizabeth sighed as the carriage came to a stop outside the brightly lit entrance to the Meryton assembly rooms. As her younger sisters began pushing and bickering in their haste to be the first one out, another truth became glaringly clear. In an incommodious carriage such as theirs, six ladies dressed to the nines were bound to have their gowns crushed and tumble out upon the street looking like hoydens.

Their arrival did not go unnoticed. As they attempted to smooth their skirts and straighten their assorted feathers, flowers, and shawls, they noisily made their entrance. Mrs. Bennet stopped in the entranceway and gazed about the room until she spied her sister Phillips.
"We are finally come," she cried as she surged forward, her daughters following her in an uneven wave. "Kitty would make us late! I do hope Mr. Bingley has not arrived yet for I want him to see dear Jane as soon as he comes through the door. Where should we stand to appear to best advantage? Mary dear, don't slouch; Lizzy, walk more demurely this is not one of your country lanes; Lydia, look - there are so many handsome officers; Jane, dearest girl, tuck the lace a little deeper to show more of your lovely figure. Sister Phillips! Was there ever such a squeeze? I declare everybody has come out to see Mr. Bingley and try their luck with him. Well, they had best leave their ambitions behind them for I warrant the sight of my Jane will take the man's breath away!"

"Not only that, sister," said Mrs. Phillips when Mrs. Bennet finally stopped to catch her breath. "He has a great party with him, so they say. A number of glamorous ladies and rich gentlemen."

"The glamorous ladies we can all do without," said Mrs. Bennet peevishly, "but the rich gentlemen - what a fine thing for my other girls! Do not you think Lydia is in remarkable looks tonight? And Kitty as well, if she would only stop coughing."

Elizabeth searched the room and when she saw her friend Charlotte on the other side of the floor she gratefully made her way over to her, hoping to quickly get out of earshot of her mother's carrying voice. Though she enjoyed music and dancing, Elizabeth did not foresee that the evening would be one of unalloyed joy. There was a dearth of eligible gentlemen in the neighbourhood and had been for a number of years. Her friend's brothers and the one or two other country gentlemen that their family socialised with were agreeable enough but vacuous. They, also, had hopes to secure their own futures through marriage, and though the Bennet sisters were comely, money was the greater attraction. The officers of the militia that recently became stationed in the area did not inspire Elizabeth with trust. They were gallant and obliging but their interests bent more towards enjoying their time in a light-hearted manner. They were not men inclined to settle. Marriage was not the foremost thing in Elizabeth's mind, but she had to acknowledge that when all was said and done, such assemblies were designed as one great marriage mart. And for the past few years there had been nobody either she or Jane would have considered accepting, if anybody had even been inclined to ask.

It was for this very reason that she hoped her mother's dreams of Mr. Bingley were not misplaced. Jane deserved to find a man that was truly worthy of her beauty and her goodness. It was a sin that one as lovely as she was still unattached at the age of two and twenty.

Elizabeth spoke softly with her friend and looked across the room at her mother and sisters. Mrs. Bennet was arraying the girls out so that their visibility would be paramount. Fortunately she did not appear aware that Lizzy was not amongst them. Every time the main doors opened and someone new entered the rooms, she preened and fussed over the girls, but it was never the Bingley party. In the end she had to allow Jane to be escorted to the floor for the first two, for she must have reasoned it would have been worse for Jane to be seen standing neglected while others danced than to be showing her desirability off upon the dance floor.

The dancing was well underway when the long awaited Bingley party finally arrived. Elizabeth was dancing with one of the officers but still had time to take note of the new arrivals. Mr. Bingley was undoubtedly the amiable gentleman in the blue coat. She watched him greet Sir William Lucas affably and then introduce his friends, two ladies and two gentlemen. They appeared to be people of great fashion, and rather above their company from the expressions on their faces. The tall gentleman caught her attention and she almost missed the next steps in the dance. She admonished herself and returned her focus to her partner until the set was over and he escorted her to the refreshment table. She then turned her eyes to scan the stranger again.

He was certainly handsome, and exceedingly well put together. Such thoughts almost put her to the blush, but she soon continued on with her appraisal, discovering that there was much in his bearing not to like. Rather then be genial and conversative like his friend, he held himself aloof and stiff, his lip curled in contempt of all he surveyed. At least, that was how he appeared to Elizabeth. One of the women turned to him and commented, a look of amusement on her face, and he gave a brusque nod and resumed his disdainful perusal of the room.

Meryton was unquestionably not the hub of society, but Elizabeth found the arrogance of his attitude galling. Why did he think himself better than them, just because he was rich and spent the season in London, and the rest of the year on his estate or visiting his numerous influential friends? Did he think no one of culture could be spawned in such backwoods as these? She shook herself and wondered why she should be so quick to take umbrage and hold him in judgement when she knew nothing of his background and character. For all she knew he had reason aplenty for the foul mood he was displaying. She just felt that a true gentleman should have better governance over his feelings.
She rejoined Charlotte who was splitting to tell her everything she had already discovered.

"My mother tells me that the two ladies are Mr Bingley's sisters. The shorter one, a Mrs. Hurst, is married to the portly gentleman. The other is unmarried. The handsome gentleman, whom I noticed you staring at, is Mr. Darcy. He is unmarried and has an estate with an income in the neighbourhood of ten thousand a year."

Elizabeth chanced to look across the room just at that moment and watched as her mother spoke animatedly with her Aunt Phillips. Her lips moved in conjunction with Charlotte's and it was as if the announcement had carried clear across the room. She glanced at Mr. Darcy and thought she noticed him cringe. She hoped her mother was not yet planning all the carriages and pin money he was sure to settle upon one of her daughters. That man would not deign to look at any of them twice. She doubted that once was even an option.

"So, Lizzy, what do you think of him?" asked Charlotte. "Finer than we have ever seen in Meryton I would say."

"And so he knows it," responded Elizabeth. "He is so above his company it is a wonder he has not yet scraped his head upon the ceiling."

"You must admit he is a veritable vision, and with his estate and fortune he has a right to his pride."

"There is more to a gentleman than looks, money, and breeding," said Elizabeth. "Besides, why should we waste our time discussing someone who will not even give us a passing thought, other than in criticism?"

"It sounds to me as if your only thought has been to criticize," said Charlotte. "You would do well to feel more charitable towards him. Look - your sister is dancing with Mr. Bingley. If something should come of that as your mother hopes you may find yourself often in the company of Mr. Darcy. If I were you I would use the relationship to my advantage."

"I'm sure you would do no such thing," said Elizabeth.

"At my age I couldn't afford not to," said Charlotte ruefully.

Elizabeth noticed her mother beckoning to her from across the room. "I had better return to Mama. If she keeps flapping at me like that she will surely begin to fly."

She was nearly half way across the room when there was a pause between sets. Jane hurried off the floor and approached Elizabeth, smiling encouragingly.

"Lizzy, why are you not dancing?"

"As much as I like dancing, Jane, I really am finding it insupportable tonight."

"But, Lizzy, there are so many agreeable gentlemen!"

"Jane, I do believe you are dancing with the only pleasing gentleman in the room. There is a sad want of acceptable partners. The last trod rather heavily upon my toes."

"Poor Lizzy!" said Jane, looking at her feet in consternation. "Your slipper is quite spoiled. However won't you consider dancing with Mr. Bingley's friend? Mr, Bingley has offered to make the introduction."

"And have Mr. Darcy think that I am slighted by other men and need to have my sister arrange partners for me? I need no such concessions. If he had any interest in dancing with me, he would seek out an introduction. Besides - he has not shown himself to be a gentleman. I could not tolerate dancing with someone who is so pretentious and haughty - should he ask I would only refuse him. Go back to your smiling partner, Jane, and I will make my way over to Mama before she exposes us even more than she already has."

At this point Mrs. Bennet had taken to waving her hands above her head and emitting a shriek that could be likened to the boiling of a kettle. Jane ran back to the waiting Mr. Bingley on the dance floor, and Elizabeth turned to thread her way through the crowds to her mother. She walked headlong into Mr. Darcy. His face held the expression of ice frozen over. She could tell that he had heard every word that she had said. Her face flamed and she stalked off as quickly as she could without even a civil apology for bumping into him. All she could think about as she wended her way to her mother was that he had the most intense pair of green eyes she had ever seen.

He looked after the girl, seething internally. Ironically, if he had not overheard the conversation between her and her sister, he would never have even noticed her in this motley collection of unknowns. One was just as much like the other. But what he could not comprehend was how she could possibly have taken such an aversion to him before they had even so much as met. How dared she call him pretentious and haughty? How dared she say he was ungentlemanly? He had done nothing worse than stand by the side of the room; a room full of people he was unacquainted with. She disappeared into the arms of a lace-ruffled matron who had been indecorously loud and obnoxious all evening, rapaciously planning to marry her daughters off to himself and Bingley and who knows whom else. Well, even if he were to be stranded on Robinson Crusoe's desert island with only her and no one else, she would be the last person on earth he would ever be prevailed upon to offer for. In that case he fervently hoped that Friday would be there to provide a chaperone, so no one could intimate that she had been compromised in any way.

Chapter Two

Posted on Tuesday, 9 August 2005, at 1:57 a.m.

Elizabeth found herself in Mr Darcy's company again during four dinners with the neighbouring families. As there were four and twenty families in the neighbourhood, this sort of meeting constantly recurred, yet Elizabeth could not help but reflect that the company would continually be just as dull and unvaried if not for the addition of Mr Darcy and the rest of the Netherfield party. When she had first seen him she had only thought him pretentious and haughty. True, she had noticed he was handsome and had a nicely sculptured physique, but that was an annoying truth she tried to ignore. But try as she could to ignore it, at those four dinners he was better dressed than anyone else present. His tailor knew how to accentuate his tall and muscular form. Whose fault was it that the other gentlemen in Hertfordshire, even those in uniform, just could not compare?

She stood back and watched him often, ostensibly to find fault with his face or figure, but how could one fault perfection? He was just as pretentious and haughty as ever when he spoke to her or anyone from her family, but Elizabeth could not help but notice how he spoke to Charles Bingley's sister with much more animation. At those times he almost appeared to be amiable. His green eyes would shine with a warm inner light that almost made Elizabeth wish that he would cast them upon her, but he never did. She developed an irrational dislike for Miss Bingley who was uniformly sweet and friendly and had done nothing to deserve it.

At a gathering at Sir William Lucas' home Elizabeth, in her longing to know more of him to prove that his character was truly reprehensible and despicable, loitered close to Mr Darcy and Caroline in order to overhear part of their conversation.

"I rather fear that Colonel Forster is going to throw a ball," said Darcy.

"Mr Darcy," responded Caroline in the sweetest of voices. "I understand your apprehension, however I think a ball would be a lovely thing for this neighbourhood. So many charming people! You really ought to exert yourself more in society. Miss Charlotte Lucas is a very nice young lady. You have met with her above four times. I feel sure you could dance with her without any of your qualms about not dancing with those to whom you are unacquainted. Why, you could dance with Miss Jane Bennet if you could wrest her away from my brother. In fact, I think I will suggest he hold a ball at Netherfield. It would be just the thing!"

"It would?" he asked in surprise.

"Yes! It would rid you of this unreasonable fear you have of dancing and afford the entire community so much pleasure. With such a choice of partners you would not long feel uncomfortable. Not only myself, Miss Lucas and Miss Bennet, but also Miss Eliza . . ."

"I think I can decide who I will dance with for myself, Miss Bingley, but thank you for the advice." Mr Darcy spoke with his face straight but there was a decided twinkle in his eyes.

Elizabeth was about to move away when he looked straight at her and said. "Miss Bennet, do you not think Miss Bingley expressed herself well just now when she spoke of her brother having a ball?"

"Most people do delight in a ball," answered Elizabeth, "but I am quite indifferent to the subject."

"You are?" asked Miss Bingley. "I cannot understand it! It was my belief that all young ladies love a ball. I can think of one only with delight. I mean to dance with all the officers."

"Then I hope you do not mind having your feet crushed," said Elizabeth with some asperity.

Miss Bingley gave a tinkling laugh and then she and Mr Darcy walked off. Elizabeth was left thinking how bright his green eyes looked when he wore his black coat. She recalled his comment and blushed knowing she had been caught eavesdropping. How ungentlemanly of him to bring notice to the fact. He was still just as insupportable as ever. And there was nothing in his conversation to show intelligence or wit at all. That pleased her for it would be terrible if he were to own all the attributes she looked for in a man. As it was the only attribute he had was appearance. Character, wit, and intelligence were so much more important.

Elizabeth admonished herself for even thinking of Mr Darcy and vowed to pay more attention to her dear Jane who was standing with Mr Bingley as he chatted amiably with her. She wondered if the gentleman were really sincere. He was such a friendly fellow, bestowing his good graces on all and sundry equally. Jane, she could see, was in dire danger of losing her heart. What Elizabeth was unsure of was how deep the gentleman's feelings went and what, if any, were his intentions. What did they know of him anyway? He was rich, to be sure, but what did that say of his character? Was he steady and dependable, or was he just out to amuse himself? Charlotte, who urged her to come to the pianoforte and perform, shook her from her musings. After she was done, Mary took her place at the instrument and she began to make her way across the floor to join Jane. In Elizabeth's opinion her eldest sister had been in private conversation with Mr Bingley for far too long. Sir William Lucas accosted her when she reached the middle of the floor.

"Oh Miss Eliza! There is nothing like dancing, is there not? One of the choicest refinements of high society, what?"

"Do you not find that those of unpolished society also dance? Why even the savages, or so I am told," answered Elizabeth. She wanted to get away. Mary had struck up a reel and Mr Bingley was leading Jane out even as they spoke.

"Quite, quite," laughed Sir William. "I do delight in your witticisms, and in your dancing. We must have you dance. Why, here is Mr Darcy without a partner too. May I present Miss Elizabeth as a most desirable partner, sir?"

Mr Darcy, who was just crossing the floor to go to the punch bowl, looked at Sir William in bewilderment. "Pardon me, Sir William?" he said politely.

"I know you dislike dancing in general, Mr Darcy," said Sir William, "but with such inducements as Miss Eliza possesses I am sure you cannot say nay."

Mr Darcy looked at Elizabeth and stammered, "I . . . I sh-should be honoured."

Elizabeth glared back at him with fire in her eyes. "Do not think that I petitioned Sir William to beg me a partner. I have no desire to dance."

"Come, come, Miss Eliza. How can you resist when the richest man in all of Derbyshire stands before you beseeching your hand?" asked Sir William.

"Mr Darcy is all politeness."

"That he is, that he is! I fail to understand how you could object to such a partner."

"I . . ." said Elizabeth, suddenly realising how very impolite she must have sounded.

"Do not distress yourself, Miss Bennet," said Mr Darcy, who had finally gained command of the situation. "I have no wish to force you into anything you dislike." He bowed and continued his way across the room.

Elizabeth looked after him in disbelief. Gone was the haughty demeanour. He had reacted to the awkward situation with consideration rather than disdain. Her knees began to shake. Charlotte walked up behind her and whispered in her ear.

"I have a feeling I know what you are thinking."

"I sincerely doubt it," answered Elizabeth.

"You are thinking that it is a blessing not to have had to dance with the man, because even though he is the most handsome gentleman in all existence you still cling to your insane conviction that he is detestable."

"Not at all," said Elizabeth, taking a breath. "Though my conviction as to his detestableness is unchanged, I was thinking that eyes like his should be outlawed."

"Aha! Is there perhaps a chink in your armour?" asked Charlotte. "Will your heart soon be on your sleeve just as the rest of ours? Will you take to haunting the lanes approaching Netherfield in case you should meet him out upon a walk? Will your every waking hour be spent doing needlework to add to your trousseau?"

Elizabeth let Charlotte's wit flow long. She enjoyed it, actually, because Charlotte, being such a sensible person, rarely allowed herself such flights of fancy, but Lizzy still felt herself impervious to the great Mr Darcy. So what if he had acted human once? He might only have done it to throw her own incivility in her face. Yes, there was a thought.

She glanced around the room again and caught sight of her sister and Mr Bingley, still dancing. 'Poor Jane,' she thought. "I must be more vigilant to ensure that she does not end up with a broken heart.'

Chapter Three

Posted on Tuesday, 16 August 2005, at 7:33 p.m.

A few days later, Jane and Lizzy received a note from Caroline inviting them to spend the day with her and Louisa at Netherfield while the gentlemen were dining with the officers.

"I see no point in going if the gentlemen are not to be there!" cried Mrs Bennet. "Anyway it is sure to rain and I would not like Jane to have her gown or hair spoiled in a soaking, for if that were to happen the gentlemen would surely return and see her all bedraggled, mark my word."

"I think it would be very impolite not to go," said Lizzy. "Especially over a trifling thing like that. I'm sure they would be delighted to see us no matter how wet we became!" She had no intention of being looked down upon for exhibiting the boorish provincial ways they surely expected of her.

"I'll not have Jane become ill, even in chasing a man. Her nose gets all red - that can be so off-putting."

"Mama, please," said Jane.

But to no avail. Jane could not change her mother's mind, and her father refused to send for the horses, which were being used in the fields. Only the riding horses were available, and though Lizzy preferred walking she had one of them saddled and rode off promising Jane that she would think up some excuse to tell Caroline that wouldn't make her appear ungracious. She thought that by riding she could arrive to Netherfield before the rain actually started. But she did not count on the fact that the rain would be heralded by thunder and lightening. The first flash of lightening ruptured the sky just as she entered Netherfield's gravel sweep. The horse shied and reared and poor Lizzy was thrown to the ground.

A groom came rushing from the stables and carried her up to the house. Caroline was shocked when she heard a commotion at the door and came running to see Lizzy limp in the man's arms.

"Quick, bring her to the parlour and lay her upon the divan," she ordered.

Louisa almost fainted when she saw Lizzy lying cold and still where she was placed.

"Is she dead?" she cried.

"Of course not," said Caroline, feeling Lizzy's pulse. "But I can't help thinking it is all my fault she's been hurt - I ought to have sent the carriage with my note."

"And her uncle is an attorney too," said Louisa. "What if we are found liable?"

Caroline ignored her sister. "Miss Elizabeth, can you hear me?" she asked as she wiped Lizzy's brow with her handkerchief that she had soaked in lavender water.

"Yes," whispered Lizzy. "But my leg hurts ever so much."

"I have sent for the apothecary," said Caroline. "Until he arrives is there anything I can do to relieve your present discomfort?"

"A glass of wine, perhaps?" asked Louisa.

"Anything," said Lizzy, almost beside herself with pain. "And, Miss Bingley, I must extend my sister's regrets before I forget. My mother could not spare her. She was most sorry not to be able to come."

"Think nothing of it," said Caroline, wincing as Lizzy grabbed hold of her hand and squeezed it. "Louisa, the wine. Hurry."

By the time Mr Jones arrived Lizzy was feeling very little pain, but that had more to do with the amount of wine she had drunk than the state of her health. Unfortunately after his examination he had a very annoying truth to relate. She had no broken bones but she had sustained a severe blow to her knee and it had swollen twice its size already.

"She cannot be moved for a week at least," he advised.

"Do you mean I must stay on this divan day and night?" asked Lizzy, taken aback. She attempted to rise but fell back in pain as her leg refused to hold her weight.

"That is exactly the type of thing you must prevent her from doing," said the apothecary to Caroline as Louisa tried to distract Elizabeth with another glass of wine.

"I will have a room made up for her immediately and one of the footmen can carry her up to it," offered Caroline.

"And don't let your sister give her any more wine."

"I rather see your point there," said Caroline as Lizzy began singing a maudlin song.

A note was rushed off to Longbourn immediately, stating that Elizabeth had sustained a slight injury falling off her horse and would need to stay with the Bingleys for at least a week to recuperate. There was also a promise of the carriage in the morning to fetch a trunk of clothes for Lizzy and an invitation urging Jane to come and help nurse her sister. Caroline had thought it best that no one arrive that evening to see the state that Miss Elizabeth was in. She thanked heaven that the gentlemen, especially Mr Darcy, had not returned prematurely to witness it.

Mrs Bennet was quite pleased with the turn of events.

"I never imagined Lizzy could be so inventive!" she cried. "What a dear, devious girl she is."

"Mama!" cried Jane. "I do believe she truly is hurt."

"Hurt? In a trifling fall from a horse? Pshaw! Now you will be thrown practically into the arms of Mr Bingley!" said Mrs Bennet with glee. "And you didn't even have to get wet."

"But poor Lizzy!" moaned Jane.

In the morning Lizzy awoke and wondered for a few minutes where she was, but the pain in her head and her stiff knee brought it all back to her. She winced as the maid drew the curtains open and light filled the room.

"The mistress was wondering if you felt up to breakfast, miss."

"I would like that very much," said Lizzy. "And even more so if you would kindly close the drapes again."

"Yes miss," said the maid, and she pulled the curtains to before hurrying out the door.

Lizzy lay back against her pillows in the darkened room. A week! Mr Jones had said she needed to stay a week. How was she ever going to survive? The one saving grace was that at least she would be spared socialising with the gentlemen if she were to remain in her bedchamber the entire time. But she feared what her mother would have to say about her predicament - that it was a stroke of luck, no doubt. Well, it didn't matter what her mother wished - she was not going to use her indisposition as a means of entrapping a man, no matter how handsome he may be.

The door opened, and instead of the maid, Miss Bingley entered bearing her breakfast tray.

"How are you feeling this morning, Miss Eliza?" asked Caroline, all concern.

"The throbbing in my head has made me all but forget the pain in my leg," said Lizzy with a wry smile.

Caroline set the tray comfortably on her lap and then took a chair beside the bed. "I was not sure how much you could manage," she said, indicating the tray that was piled with tea and toast, a poached egg, and some preserves.

"I feel that I am a terrible imposition to you," said Lizzy, "and would not have you go to so much trouble for me."

"Do not fret, Miss Eliza, it is no bother at all. I have sent for your sister Jane to help me in nursing you."

Lizzy wondered at the generosity and thoughtfulness of this gesture. She could only attribute it to Miss Bingley's insincere social graces, and did not doubt that when she was away from the room, discussing her unexpected houseguest with her sister, that she sang quite a different tune. Still, the superficial kindness she was being shown caused her to blush with embarrassment for her behaviour the afternoon before. She only had a dim recollection of it but she was certain that she had not acted as befitted a lady. "I must apologise. I have never in my life . . ."

"There, there," soothed Miss Bingley. "You were in much pain and my sister was really to blame in giving you such very strong wine. Do not concern yourself - rest assured that neither my sister nor I will mention it to anybody."

They made polite conversation as Lizzy ate and then Miss Bingley told her to try to sleep once more. "I will send your sister up as soon as she arrives," she said as she took away the tray.

Jane was much comfort to Lizzy. She kissed her and cosseted her and provided her with some books she had packed. After some time Jane thought she ought to go below stairs and join their hosts.

"I will not leave you for long," said Jane, "but I promised mama I wouldn't be behindhand in paying my respects."

"Putting yourself forward you mean. Jane, take care. I do not want you to end up with a broken heart. The Bingleys are far above our social circle, though we are gentry. Their fortune was made in trade, but they have been elevated by its abundance. Men of Mr Bingley's set are more interested in furthering their prospects by connecting themselves through marriage to titled families. We would do best to look to our own sphere for matrimony."

"Lizzy!" admonished Jane, "I do not know who is more of a trial to bear, you or mama. I am just happy to be in his company and expect nothing more."

It was a couple of hours before Jane returned and Lizzy was having trouble concentrating on her book. She was too worried about what was transpiring in the parlour.

"They were playing at loo," Jane informed her when she sat by her bedside. "And a most interesting conversation took place. Mr Bingley made a comment on how accomplished all young ladies are - it led from a question Miss Bingley made to Mr Darcy about his sister, as I recall. Well, Mr Darcy would have it that he knew very few truly accomplished ladies. And Miss Bingley, in endeavouring to discover what he deemed the attributes of accomplishment, listed all manner of things: dress, poise, playing, singing, drawing. Oh, the list became so long I could not imagine anyone of my acquaintance having such a range of abilities. Mr Bingley laughed and said he meant no more than painting a screen or designing a table, which lifted my spirits for I was feeling sincerely inadequate. But Mr Darcy said that for a lady to be truly accomplished she must possess all the attributes that Miss Bingley had expounded upon, but to them she must also add a mind developed by extensive reading. Imagine that! It seems to me that he has a more deep thinking nature than you have brought yourself to believe."

"To me it accentuates his arrogance, nothing more," said Lizzy, wishing that he were not so full of himself.

"But to value education in a woman!"

"All he wants is a paragon. If he were truly thinking deeply he would realise such a woman could not exist."

"Well, I am glad that Mr Bingley is more easily pleased," said Jane with a sigh. "He was so very attentive to me, Lizzy! And he asked after you. In fact they all did, even Mr Hurst. Well, his actual words were, 'Should you not be with your sister, Miss Bennet, rather than disturbing our game? Is she not ill?' But I know that his brusque manner only hid his concern."

"Jane Bennet is a dear sweet girl," said Louisa as she played her cards.

"They are both of them lovely girls," said Caroline, eyeing Mr Darcy as she spoke. "Miss Eliza has borne her injury and isolation with much fortitude."

"And Miss Bennet is such an angel to be nursing her so lovingly," said Mr Bingley.

"It is so sad that they have such poor connections," said Louisa. "I would give anything in the world to see them well settled."

Mr Hurst snorted. "One of their uncles is a small town attorney, and they have another who is in trade, I believe."

"Yes," Caroline said. "But their father is a gentleman and a landowner."

"I see no reason why they should not marry advantageously," said Darcy. "They are well bred, pretty enough girls. To a gentleman with a fortune their connections or lack of dowry should not matter a jot."

"Not if he were in love," agreed Bingley.

Caroline addressed Darcy, "So you are not as averse to Miss Eliza Bennet as you would have us believe?"

"Miss Bingley, I am only speaking in general terms. My estimation of Miss Elizabeth has undergone no radical change due to her recent misfortune. She is still the same dab of a country girl who looks askance at us for being tonnish. Instead of taking the time to discover our true natures she only stands in judgement. She never looks at me but to criticize, I am sure, so I am mystified as to why you insist on attempting to promote some sort of romance between us."

Caroline smirked. She reflected that Mr Darcy could stand to question his own tendency to cling to first impressions, but she kept those thoughts to herself. "It is a novel feeling to be held in contempt, is it not?"

"It does not affect me one way or the other," said Darcy.

"Even to be the object of scorn to such a pretty girl? She has very remarkable eyes - have you not noticed?"

"It takes more than a sweet smile and sparkling eyes to turn my head."

"Or a light and pleasing figure?"

"I have observed nothing about her out of the ordinary. Her sister is quite a beauty, though - she has charmed your brother completely."

"Yes, he is utterly and hopelessly lost," said Caroline with a smile. "Dearest Charles. And I am convinced that she returns his regard."

"Then he should get on with it and propose rather than mooning about in such a ludicrously besotted manner."

"Mr Darcy! You know that half the fun is the chase. Allow him to linger in the state of romantic anticipation and uncertainty for as long as it gives him pleasure."

Darcy rolled his eyes and played his hand. He had won again, much to Caroline's chagrin. How was it that he could always keep up his end in a conversation without losing any of his concentration on the game? She would have to discover some more potent method of distraction if she had hopes to best him. But then, there was that old adage, lucky at cards, unlucky at love. She longed to see him in a situation where he was completely out of his depth.

Chapter Four

Posted on Tuesday, 23 August 2005, at 5:49 p.m.

The next morning, with the help of Jane and a maid, Lizzy dressed herself and was reclining upon the coverlet of her bed when Caroline came in to see her.

"How are you feeling today?" she asked.

"My knee is still very swollen, though it only hurts when I move it," replied Lizzy, wishing for the umpteenth time that she did not have to be so indebted to Miss Bingley. "But I am beginning to become restless with such lack of activity."

"You must be bored clear out of your skull cooped up in this bedchamber all day. Do allow me to arrange for you to be brought down to the drawing room. There would, at least, be more going on to entertain you."

"You must not concern yourself with my entertainment," said Lizzy stiffly. "It is only through my own ineptitude as a rider that I am laid up."

But Caroline insisted and Lizzy could do nothing but comply and agree to have a footman carry her below stairs, though she did not look forward to the experience now that she was of clear mind. The idea of being in a man's arms was so lowering. She thought that his being a servant was at least something she could accept with equanimity, but when Miss Bingley returned to the room she brought with her Mr Darcy instead.

"Mr Darcy was so gallant as to offer his services," she said.

Lizzy wondered what the lady had done to coerce him for he did not appear any more pleased than herself with the prospect. She longed to say that she had changed her mind and would remain in the chamber, but the annoying truth was that she could not bear another second of confinement. It was an awkward moment when the gentleman leaned over her and slid one arm under her legs and the other around her back. If not for the pain she felt upon his lifting her up she might have paid more attention to the strength of his arms and the feel of his firm chest as she lay against it. Instead she drew in her breath so as not to give away the discomfort she was in.

"It would be easier for me, Miss Bennet, if you would not be so stiff," said Mr Darcy.

Lizzy looked over his shoulder at Miss Bingley who had a decided smirk upon her face. 'She is taking pleasure at my indignity!' It reconfirmed her ill opinion of her hostess.

"I think you should put your arms about his neck, Miss Eliza - it will make it more comfortable for the both of you."

Mr Darcy glared at Miss Bingley. "There is no need," he said shortly, and strode from the room, carrying Lizzy as easily as if she were a bundle of laundry. Though what a gentleman would be doing carrying a bundle of laundry she had no idea.

All the way down the stairs she had to resist the temptation of putting her arms about his neck to stabilise herself from the jostling, but there was no way on earth she would give Miss Bingley the gratification of seeing her capitulate. Instead she tried not to think about how much more comfortable it would be, not to mention how it would feel to have her arms about Mr Darcy's admittedly attractive person. At one point, when his foot caught on the corner of the runner just about at the bottom of the staircase, Mr Darcy stumbled and she grabbed his shoulder for dear life.

He looked at her with alarm clearly written all over his face. "I will not drop you," was all he said, but she received the clear impression that the apprehension was more due to her sudden action than his fear of losing his cargo. She was happy when she was finally deposited upon a settee with a pillow securely under her knee and two more behind her back. Jane, who had been hovering by her during the whole procedure, drew a chair close and took her hand.

"Dearest Lizzy! I hope that was not too taxing for you."

She could hardly admit, even to her sister, that the most taxing part of the experience was having to endure the closeness of Mr Darcy, knowing all the while that he was exactly the wrong sort of man for her whilst wishing it were otherwise. His eyes, when seen from such a vantage point, were more fascinating than ever. The green was brilliant with dark streaks radiating from the pupils. They glittered like finely cut emeralds, only they were twice as hard. She could not help but wonder if he were as indifferent to her closeness as he had seemed or if he were masking his feelings as well as she had hidden her own. But she felt well protected by the recollection that even if he had experienced some measure of attraction his elevated station in life would prevent him from considering her as a target for his attentions. And she had no desire for his attentions. She wanted a man of more substance than he could possibly have. She wanted a man of wit and intellect, not some rich dilettante.

After everyone had greeted her and marvelled at her resilience and wished her well with the customary insincerity of social convention, the conversation that had been taking place upon her entrance resumed.

"Indeed brother," cried Mrs Hurst, "I do believe you jest when you say you are quite fixed here in Netherfield and nothing would move you. It cannot be - the country is so confined and unvarying - you will be chafing at the bit for the bright lights of London in a fortnight."

"Ah," said Caroline, "If Mr Darcy were to suggest he go tomorrow, he would."

"I resent the implication that I am flighty," cried Bingley. "There is much here in the country that I am not yet ready to leave, Darcy or no Darcy." He cast a very significant look in Jane's direction.

Jane blushed prettily and gave Lizzy an 'I told you so' glance, but Lizzy's suspicious mind pounced on the one phrase of his statement she was sure Jane had misinterpreted. That I am not yet ready to leave. In her mind this did not bode well at all, for it indicated that when he had taken his fill of Jane's attentions he would indeed leave, and without a backward look.

While she had been thinking these dark thoughts, the conversation had moved on to poetry and she heard Mr Darcy spout some fatuous nonsense about how poetry was the food of love, once more proving his ignorance.

"I had always supposed it music," said Lizzy.

"What music?" he asked, when he had come to the realisation that she was addressing him.

"The food of love," she returned, barely attempting to keep the scorn out of her voice. He was even thicker than she had supposed.

"Music," cried Caroline throwing up her hands in feigned delight. "What a wonderful suggestion. Louisa, will you do the honours?"

Louisa played a few country reels and then settled into a dignified French air.

"She has quite spoiled my fun," said Caroline. "Just when I had been hoping to convince Mr Darcy to dance a jig with me."

"I am certain he would be more at home with a cotillion, in any case," said Lizzy.

"You expect me to agree, no doubt, to prove that I am pretentious, but I shall answer that neither would tempt me as I am not inclined to dance at all."

"Mr Darcy! What an abominable thing to say," said Caroline. "Would you have us despise you for being so insufferable?"

"By all means."

"Miss Eliza! Is he not very shocking? We must punish him most severely for being so unchivalrous."

"I am sure there is much we could tease him of."

"Tease Mr Darcy? I would never dream of it," replied Caroline, her eyes twinkling with merriment. "You must know he has the calmest of tempers and such presence of mind! Besides he has no fault - he has owned so to me many a time."

"Indeed I have not, Miss Bingley, but I am quite accustomed to the fact that your first object in life is a joke."

"And you Miss Eliza," said Caroline. "Do you not also enjoy a good joke at the expense of a friend?"

"Certainly, but to joke without an object and leave him open to best us would not be satisfying. If he has no faults as you assert we must therefore find nothing in him to laugh at."

"I have faults as does any man," said Darcy, "but I pride myself that none of them are ridiculous."

Lizzy smirked. "Such vanity!"

"And," he added in an ominous voice, "I have an unyielding temper."

"Yes," said Caroline. "You would not want to lose his good opinion. Irreclaimable!"

"I do not think that is something I can laugh at," said Lizzy, choking on a giggle.

"Everyone has some defect. Yours, it seems, is to hate everybody of the ton."

"My goodness!" cried Caroline. "How could such a pleasant conversation fall into such misunderstanding? I would assume neither of you had a sense of humour if I did not know any better."

Mr Darcy then excused himself and removed to a desk in the corner of the room to write a letter. Lizzy was not sorry. She had already paid him too much attention and she did not want him getting any false ideas from it. But she had to admit to herself that she had wronged him once again. He was proving more astute than she had ever expected. She knew she had just witnessed him teasing Miss Bingley in a most subtle and underhanded way. She had expected Miss Bingley to follow him over to the desk and watch him write the letter - the girl was so obviously infatuated with him - but instead she remained where she was.

"Mr Darcy is writing to his sister," that lady confided. "He writes very long and detailed letters, but he does not do so with ease thus we must afford him the time without disruption. He is a very good brother. Pay no heed to my jokes about his unyielding temper - I was only attempting to garner an outrageous response from him. He is actually the sweetest fellow imaginable. And his sister too - she is a trifle shy but utterly kind and gracious. I do hope you may meet her soon, however she is not yet out and so he could not bring her with him on this visit."

Lizzy answered with a polite nothing. Miss Bingley was truly outside of enough, and besotted into the bargain. The sister was probably just as high-nosed and superficial as the brother. She glanced over at Mr Darcy again; in fact she could not keep her eyes from straying to whatever quarter of the room he was in for the rest of the day. In the evening Miss Bingley again persuaded him to carry her upstairs, and this time she did not scruple at putting her arms about his neck. As she lay down in her bed to sleep she had to admit that it had been a most pleasurable experience.

"Mr Darcy," cried Caroline when he had come downstairs after performing his errand of mercy, "are you not pleased with the way I have arranged everything?"

"To what can you possibly be referring?"

"Why, how I have managed to place Miss Eliza in your arms twice in one day!"

"It is a pleasure I can well do without," he responded.

"I had hoped it would bring the two of you together," she said with an affected pout.

"The more I see of her the more I am convinced that she is a shrew."

"She? Your behaviour today was deplorable."

"You try my patience, you really do. I pity my poor cousin to be stuck for eternity with you."

"My dear colonel!" cried Caroline. "How he would have enjoyed himself, watching you writhe under my machinations!"

"Come," said Darcy. "Let us call a truce. I bear you no ill will and truly I can swallow the company of Miss Eliza if only that it leaves her ministering sister with more time for Charles."

"They did get on well together, did they not?" Caroline smiled. "I think my poke at him about leaving on your say so really helped. He is so shy about showing his true feelings."

"Why he should feel any trepidation I have no idea," said Darcy. "The lady wears her heart upon her sleeve."

"But you know he does not fall in love easily, so it is no wonder that he is diffident. I am so pleased it has finally happened - I do not believe I could have chosen a better partner for him myself."

"You have a propensity for choosing partners for others. I would be glad if you were to recall that I, for one, prefer to chose my own."

"You prefer to do nothing of the sort. If I were not here to egg you on you would remain a bachelor until you were in your dotage."

"Well, my cousin beat me to the mark and proposed to you, so what is there left for me?" he asked, with a carefully held look of sorrow upon his face.

"Then you might as well join a monastery," was Caroline's parting shot.

The rest of the week passed in much the same manner. Lizzy attempted to intervene as much as possible in the flirtation between Mr Bingley and her sister, but she had to contend with the intrusive conversation of Miss Bingley and her own increased awareness of Mr Darcy's potential as a mate. On the last day she found herself stuck in the drawing room alone with him for half an hour, but she managed to spend the time concentrating with much effort upon her book, and was pleased with her success until she inadvertently noticed that she had chosen the second volume of the one that he himself was reading. After that she feared that he would think she was attempting to impress him with her intellect and taste. For the remainder of the day she ensured that her every utterance was inane.

Mr Jones arrived bright and early on Monday morning to inspect her knee. He was satisfied that the swelling had gone away completely and told her that she would be able to return home, but that she should use a cane and refrain from putting weight on the injured limb for another week at the very least. So Lizzy emerged from her chamber unassisted for the first time, but for her cane and Jane's arm under her other elbow for support. She had to admit that she missed her former mode of transportation and wondered if she would ever again have the good luck to be held in Mr Darcy's arms, to smell his warm, masculine scent, and to feel his heart beating in his chest so near to her own. She shook her head sadly. How foolish she had become in one short week.

Chapter Five

Posted on Tuesday, 30 August 2005, at 1:20 a.m.

Mrs Bennet was in transports when her husband announced that they were to have a visitor for dinner that night. Her delighted squeals could be heard clear across to Lucas Lodge.

"It must be Mr Bingley!" she cried. "You have done your part well, dear Jane. But why does not Mr Darcy join him?" She looked askance at Lizzy, certain that her unapproachable behaviour had caused the other gentleman to decline the invitation.

"It is not Mr Bingley, but someone none of us have as yet met," said Mr Bennet, "though I do believe it is our daughters who bring this young gentleman forth." He appraised his wife complacently, waiting for the desired reaction. He was not to be disappointed.

"Whatever can you mean?" asked Mrs Bennet, her eyes glazing over at the thought of new prey for her girls. "You must tell me who it is - oh! This waiting is driving me to distraction!" She reached for her salts, which were never far from her grasp.

"It is my cousin Mr Collins to whom my estate is entailed." Mr Bennet enunciated his every word with great deliberation, watching how Mrs Bennet's face changed all the while. He could never tire of sporting with his dear wife, no matter how predictable she was.

Mrs Bennet threw up her hands in horror. "Do not talk to me of the entail - it gives me palpitations. Entails are the work of the devil! You ought long ago to have used your influence with the magistrate to set such a cruel and inhuman ordinance to rights!"

Mr Bennet winked at his second eldest daughter. Nothing any of them could say to their mother would convince her that the entail was not something that could be settled by greasing the right palm. "It seems he has some intention of making up for this miscarriage of justice through marriage to one of our daughters."

"What a very clever young man," cried Mrs Bennet, the whole aspect of her countenance changing. "I must go to cook at once to see if there is some fish to be got."

As Mrs Bennet hustled off to the kitchens screeching for Hill, Lizzy addressed her father. "Did he actually say as much in his letter to you? He cannot be an intelligent young man to do so without first having ensured that he liked one of us well enough to marry."

"I believe he is sufficiently intelligent," said her father. "He managed to intimate his intentions quite subtly, but I knew that the direct approach would work much better with your mother."

That evening when Mr Collins arrived the girls were quite disappointed to discover that he was rather short, very plain indeed, and had no flair for fashion. However he was amiable and intelligent and soon won the two older sisters over with his powers of conversation. He was a clergyman with a living in Kent. His patroness was a Lady who had a very high opinion of her stature and worth and he delighted Elizabeth with descriptions of her overbearing pomposity.

"But how can you stand to demean yourself in such a way as to be at the beck and call of a self imposed tyrant?" asked Lizzy.

"In every life there is a cross to bear," he answered with a deprecating smile. "In truth it is not so very bad, and I do believe I may be able to use her pride to the advantage of the parish. I feel my duty to my parishioners very strongly."

"So, you are not above utilising manipulation," said Lizzy with a knowing look.

"Not at all in the name of good," he replied, and then changed the subject in order to draw out Jane, who had been sitting quietly, as if in the middle of a daydream.

This act immediately put him in favour with Elizabeth. She saw that he was not only intelligent, but kind and compassionate, and that more than made up for his plainness in face and in figure. She began to see that he was the perfect match for her sister. Why she did not think of him for herself she attempted to ascribe to her own generosity of heart, but the annoying truth she had to admit was she was already half-smitten by a pair of vivid green eyes and a marvellous physique though she believed it did not house as laudable a nature as that of her cousin. Jane was not as base and shallow as she was turning out to be - Lizzy was certain of that. Jane's head would not be turned by looks alone. Surely Mr Collins' sense could override Mr Bingley's trivial physical charms. She determined to do as much as she could to forward her cousin's chances with Jane, and keep her sister away from the intoxicating influence of the flighty Mr Bingley. There was no future for her in that quarter but heartache.

The next morning all five sisters walked into Meryton with Mr Collins, and his attentions to Jane did not cease, much to Lizzy's delight. Jane herself appeared to be perfectly pleased to walk by his side and conversed with animation. Lizzy was thinking that everything was working out quite admirably when she saw both Mr Bingley and Mr Darcy ahead of them on horseback. She glanced quickly at Jane, whose face was overspread with a rosy blush, and groaned inwardly. She was just pondering how to prevent Mr Collins from losing his place at Jane's side to Mr Bingley and at the same time willing herself to ignore how fine Mr Darcy looked when seated upon a horse - and it was mighty fine indeed - when she noticed to whom the gentlemen were speaking. Her face drained of all colour. It had been four years since she had set eyes upon him, but there stood Mr Wickham - as dashing, debonair, and dastardly as ever. He noticed her at the same moment and his cheeks flushed a quick hot red, which he attempted to hide with a flourishing bow in her direction. She made the barest of curtsies in return.

Elizabeth could only be glad that Mary, Kitty, and Lydia had more pressing matters in mind than standing in the middle of the road conversing with all and sundry, and so after pleasantries were exchanged, mainly between Jane and Mr Bingley, they soon continued on to their Aunt Phillips' house, where the youngest girls had hopes to meet some of the officers. Mr Wickham, lacking regimentals, had not caught either Lydia or Kitty's attention, and all Mary could think of was the gothic novel that her aunt had promised to lend her.

What Kitty and Lydia were sadly unaware of was the fact that Mr Wickham had been worthy of a second look on their part as he was soon to be wearing a red coat in his new position as lieutenant. They wished they had paid more attention to him when they discovered from their Aunt Phillips that he was someone not entirely unknown to them. They would have to wait to become reacquainted, however, because he was not able to accept the Phillips' kind invitation for dinner the next night, having a previous engagement to dine along with his commanding officer at Netherfield.

After dinner, when the ladies had retired to the drawing room and the men were at their port, Darcy decided to surreptitiously question the newcomer on the interesting display he had witnessed the day before. Mr Wickham had anticipated him, however, and brought the subject up immediately himself.

"How well acquainted are you with the Bennet family?"

"I have been in this neighbourhood about a month," said Darcy, "so we have been in their company a number of times. Mr Bingley's sister has taken quite a liking to Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth and had them to stay for a week recently."

"They are very pretty girls," remarked Wickham, eyeing Darcy for his reaction to this comment.

Darcy only shrugged. "The eldest is a beauty. My friend is quite enamoured of her."

"And Miss Elizabeth?" asked Wickham.

"I could not help but notice the way you and she greeted each other," said Darcy evasively. "I take it there is a previous acquaintance."

"Indeed. I was at one time practically a member of her family."

"But she treated you with such cold disdain. She usually reserves such scorn for the likes of me."

"Scorn for a gentleman such as yourself? Whatever for?"

"I am too much the man of the Town. She holds my fortune in contempt and has decided that because I am wealthy I must also be a frivolous dilettante." Darcy attempted to keep the edge of bitterness from his voice but could not quite manage it.

Wickham quickly hid a smile. "I see that she hasn't changed," he said, shaking his head. "She has always flaunted her erroneous opinions, to the detriment of many. I have suffered greatly because of her spiteful words."

Darcy looked at him consideringly. "You said before that you had practically been a member of her family. Did she foil your suit with her sister?" Previously he had ascribed Miss Bennet's becoming blushes to the sight of Mr Bingley, now he thought there might be some other explanation.

"Nothing of that sort," answered Mr Wickham, quick to correct him. "It is a long, rather pathetic tale and I would not want to bore you with it."

"You are not boring me in the least," Darcy assured him. "Miss Bingley and I are in disagreement about Miss Elizabeth's merit and I would be most pleased to be able to inform her that she has grossly misread that lady's character."

"I do not say this to complain, or to seek your pity, you understand," said Wickham, "but only to try and satisfy your interest in the subject. The young lady has very insidious ways and I would not like to see someone like yourself caught up in her machinations."

"She has no power over me," replied Darcy with a laugh.

"I am relieved to hear that," said Wickham. "She is very adept at breaking hearts. I speak from experience. I was very young and impressionable when I first met her, and though she was herself so much younger still, she was no innocent when it came to manipulating emotions.

"My father, Sir Arnold Wickham, had been an old friend of Mr Bennet. When I was born I was made his godson. My father was a good man, but easily distracted by the delights that abound in London. His knighthood went to his head and he was catered to by ivory turners, who soon won his fortune from him. He died in the poorhouse. I was but fifteen.

"My inheritance lost, Mr Bennet took me in and as he had no son he moulded me for the job of managing his estates. I applied myself to my studies with zeal. When not at school I resided with the family and came to care very much for Miss Elizabeth above all others, though how that little minx played with my affections you can only imagine. One day it was as if I were the light of her life, the next she would have none of me. Finally, four years ago, I finished my studies and returned with the hopes of stewardship and possibly, when my beloved was a little older, marriage. I had acquired some town bronze with which I had foolishly hoped to impress her. Instead she decided that I was a fribble and a wastrel and convinced her father that I had picked up my unfortunate parent's penchant for gambling. As much as I respect my esteemed godfather, I have to admit that he lives in her pocket. Nothing I could say in my defence would convince him that she was wrong. Instead of the stewardship I was to be fobbed off on her Uncle Phillips as a clerk. My pride prevented me from accepting the position. I left to try and make my own way in the world and I have not been back into Hertfordshire till a twist of fate led me to join the militia."

"I had not thought her quite so hardhearted," said Darcy, thinking back on all his past dealings with Miss Elizabeth Bennet. Had she ever tried to turn him up sweet? Was she attempting to play him like a squeaky fiddle? If so, she would find her new adversary had much more mettle than this beleaguered patsy.

"And at such a very young age," Wickham added sadly. "I thought I was completely over her, but when I saw Miss Elizabeth yesterday the hurt was as fresh as when I was one and twenty."

"You have my sympathy," said Darcy wondering what he would do if the poor man burst into tears before his eyes. "And I promise that all you have said will go no further than me."

"You may tell Miss Bingley, of course," said Wickham in a muffled voice as his arm was now in front of his face. Darcy supposed he was hiding his tears, but Wickham's eyes were as dry as could be and shining with satisfaction. "To protect her from such false friendship," he added, taking a swift glance at Darcy's troubled countenance from between his fingers.

"But. Miss Jane Bennet? Are we to still trust in her?"

"Miss Bennet is an angel," said Wickham. "Your friend Bingley is safe with her. In fact it would be much to her benefit to be out of her sister's orbit."

Darcy was well pleased with his new friend. Though the fellow was a bit of a wet blanket to have been led around by the nose by the likes of Miss Elizabeth Bennet, he had given him some good ammunition with which to diffuse Miss Bingley's incomprehensible campaign to connect himself with the insolent chit. He felt it was his duty to assist the young lieutenant in discovering a lady who would appreciate his relative worth and heal his obviously shattered heart. He thought that Miss Lucas might do, and if he put a flea in Miss Bingley's ear about making a match in that direction she might well leave him in peace for a space.

Chapter Six

Posted on Wednesday, 7 September 2005, at 5:03 p.m.

"We will be sure to invite Miss Lucas too," said Caroline sweetly, "but why do you not come to Longbourn with my brother and me?"

"I have no wish to see anyone at Longbourn," said Darcy shortly. "I have some very important correspondence to attend to, besides."

Caroline knew that if Mr Darcy said this, it must be true, for he was not of a deceitful nature.

"Then I shall be sure to extend your apologies to Miss Eliza."

"There is no need, as you well know. Two more indifferent persons could not exist."

Caroline smirked. "Your attitude is so adamantly against her it could hardly be termed indifferent."

"With what we now know of her I find it difficult to comprehend why you cannot leave go of your little games."

"But Mr Darcy, we must keep an open mind on all things. We have only a jilted lover's account - how reliable can that possibly be?"

Darcy gave her a scornful glance and left the room. Caroline only giggled and drew on her gloves. He was so completely predictable!

It would be untruthful to say that everyone at Longbourn was delighted to receive the invitation to the Netherfield ball. To Mr Bennet the ball meant a night of more noise and bustle than he cared to endure. There would be interesting enough moments, no doubt, but he would have no library to withdraw to when indulging in the foibles of his company began to pall. For Lizzy it meant more time spent in the company of a gentleman she was determined to avoid. And she had to admit that she would be in a fever of apprehension the entire time, wondering whether or not Mr Darcy would ask her to dance and how she would answer him if he did. What was most annoyingly true was that she knew deep down that she wanted him to ask her above all things and there was no question as to her answer. She did not have to worry about who would stand up with her in the first two dances, however. Her cousin had already petitioned her for those, and though she would have preferred that he had asked Jane, she was somewhat mollified that he had organised with her older sister to dance the next two.

It rained interminably the following four days. This would indeed have been enough to throw all the young Bennet girls into fits of the dismals but for the entertaining company of Mr Collins. He did not have a red coat, to be sure, and calling him handsome would have been a stretch of even the strongest imagination, but he kept Lydia and Kitty in stitches with his impressions of his esteemed patroness. Even Mary was lured away from the pages of her gothic romance to watch him parade royally around the room with his nose in the air, a shawl of Lydia's wrapped about his shoulders. She had never imagined a parson could be so droll.

The Tuesday of the ball dawned fair again, with promises for a clear sky at night to allow the full moon to light their way to and from Netherfield. As Lizzy prepared for the evening out, she couldn't help but be concerned that Mr Wickham would be attending. When she'd seen him in Meryton, he had been with the Netherfield party. Later, at her Aunt Pillips', she had discovered that he had joined the local militia. She wondered if any of those people had the least idea who they were dealing with. She had asked her father if he thought they should warn Colonel Forster about Wickham's dangerous predilections, but he said that Colonels were used to policing their troops and would hardly relish the interference. As for the Netherfield party, he reasoned that if they couldn't judge the man's character, they deserved whatever befell them.

Her father was being typically indolent, and she would have been perfectly comfortable with that if it were not for the fact that he did not know the whole truth about Wickham. But if she could not bring herself to disclose her entire history with Wickham to her father, it was beyond imagining that she would even let a hint of it out to Colonel Forster. Indeed, she and her family had found out about him the hard way, why should anyone else get off better than they? She shrugged away the small twinges of guilt that assailed her and instead concentrated on how she would deal with him should he choose to confront her. Not dancing with him was an easy decision to arrive at - actually not even talking to him seemed eminently sensible.

If Lizzy had thought they were crowded in the carriage on the way to the Meryton assembly, then she could not even think of a word suitable to describe the condition they now found themselves in, with the two gentleman, Mr Collins and her father, added to their number. She was all but sitting upon Jane's lap and Kitty and Lydia were hanging halfway out the windows. Mr Collins was crushed against the far wall, attempting not to sneeze as the feathers from Mrs Bennet's elaborate turban brushed against his nose. It was the longest three miles Lizzy had ever been driven. When she finally extricated herself from the coach she had a crick in her neck and one of her feet was numb. She looked up at the glittering windows of the mansion and was dismayed to notice that Mr Darcy was at the embrasure gazing down upon them and must have witnessed the entire mortifying scene as her family exploded from their confines.

Her mother soon set to straightening gowns and tidying hairstyles with all her usual animadversions. When all was arranged to her liking she took her husband's arm and moved regally towards the entrance. Footmen, who had almost fallen asleep in the interim, jumped to attention and opened the grand doors. Caroline exhibited every indication of being pleased to see them and Bingley grinned shyly at Jane. After his sister had jostled his side with her elbow a time or two, he asked Jane if she were free for the first two dances. She assented with such eagerness that Lizzy almost groaned.

As they entered the ballroom they were joined by Charlotte, who had not had an opportunity to visit with them since Mr Collins' arrival. Introductions were quickly made and Collins lost no time in securing Charlotte's hand for the third set. It seemed he was a gentleman who knew exactly how to make the most of his time at a ball. Lizzy looked around as her cousin and her friend conversed. She could not see Wickham anywhere and the feeling of apprehension that had been building inside of her all day dissipated.

"Looking for someone?" asked Charlotte in a teasing voice. "He is in discussion with the orchestra, I believe."

Lizzy's insides jolted and she looked in the direction her friend had indicated. It was not Wickham, but Mr Darcy who was talking with the conductor. She realised instantly that Charlotte knew nothing about Mr Wickham, and she blushed deeply at how Charlotte would now think she had given herself away. The blush, of course, only did more to confirm Charlotte's mistaken assumption.

"That is not who I was looking for," she responded shortly, attempting to calm her racing nerves. The sight of Mr Darcy in evening dress was not something to be taken lightly. Her cousin eyed her suspiciously as she strove for nonchalance.

"Who then?" asked Charlotte wickedly. "Mrs Long?" She then turned to Mr Collins and winked. "Lizzy is quite infatuated with Mr Darcy, though she would be the very last person to admit it."

"I recall meeting him in the street the day we walked into Meryton," said Mr Collins. "I thought the name was familiar at the time, and now it has come to me. He is the nephew of my patroness."

"Lady Catherine the Bore!" cried Lizzy. "Yes, I quite see the resemblance."

"Her nose is just as aquiline, but a little higher in the air despite the fact that he is a full foot taller than her. Other than that . . . is he given to recounting the amount of windows on the façade of his stately home?"

"I would not put it past him - he is completely frivolous."

"And you have such a serious nature," her cousin said agreeably. "Well, it does not matter how much Miss Lucas should tease you about the gentleman, if his aunt has her way he will be leg-shackled to his cousin soon enough."

"He is engaged to his cousin?" Lizzy felt quite faint.

"In Lady Catherine's mind, certainly. I am not in Miss Anne de Bourgh's confidence. You could, of course, ask the gentleman yourself."

Charlotte giggled and announced that it was such a waste. Lizzy made no comment. The music struck up at that moment and Mr Collins led her out for the first set. He danced divinely for such a short man, but her enjoyment in the evening was lost. All she could think about was that Mr Darcy was betrothed and yet he had not breathed a word of it to anyone in the neighbourhood. What type of deception was he playing at, puffing himself off as a marriageable man and raising the hopes of every young lady present?

"We issued invitations to all the officers, did we not Charles?" asked Caroline. "Then where is that flashy Lieutenant Wickham?"

"Captain Denny tells me that he had to go to London upon urgent business."

"Business!" said Darcy. "It is plain to see that he is avoiding Miss Elizabeth. He is a broken man."

"I never thought you quite so gullible," said Caroline, shaking her head at him.

"You did not hear it from him," said Darcy. "There was truth in his every expression. She treated him abominably."

"Well, I plan to reserve judgement until I know more," said Caroline. "Did Miss Bennet mention anything to you Charles?"

"Hmmm?" asked Bingley who had been gazing at an apparition in blue upon the dance floor. "Yes . . . Miss Bennet is indeed an angel."

"No," said Caroline, taking hold of her brother's face and swivelling it around to get his full attention. "Did she say anything to you about Mr Wickham?"

"She said that he was her father's ward or godson or something," said Charles with obvious lack of interest. "They had some sort of falling out and he went away. According to her, Miss Elizabeth was not involved in the matter."

Caroline looked at Darcy, her eyebrow raised, a most pronounced smirk upon her face.

"Of course she would say that to protect her sister," cried Darcy. "It proves nothing. I'll continue to think as I chose to think."

"You usually do," said Caroline. "Now go off and dance. If I am not mistaken, Miss Eliza has no partner."

"Neither does Miss Lucas," said Darcy. "I will ask her."

Together they walked towards the two ladies, but just as they arrived at the ladies' sides, Mr Collins returned from dancing with Jane and led Charlotte to the floor, right in front of Darcy's nose. Darcy turned to Jane hurriedly, but Bingley was already there, speaking to her most intently.

"Miss Elizabeth," cried Caroline. "Mr Darcy and I have walked all this way across the floor so that he could petition you for a dance, is that not so, Mr Darcy?"

Darcy cast her a darkling look and then turned to Elizabeth. "I would be honoured," he said stiffly.

Elizabeth nodded her acceptance and gave him her hand. They took their places in the set and began to dance in silence. After a few moments, when Elizabeth was finally able to master her voice, she said, "It is a lovely ball."

"Do you think so?" he answered. "I find it like any other. Cramped and overheated, and such a cacophony of sound it is difficult to keep step to the music or even hear oneself think."

"You do not like balls in general, sir?" she asked. "Or is it just countrified ones that set up your back?"

"My attitude towards the country is not as harsh as you would have it. I suppose I am in no humour for a ball at the moment."

Lizzy smiled stiffly and attended to the figures of the dance. He was just as arrogant as she had previously thought, and yet she was still overwhelmingly attracted to him. It was absurd. When the dance brought them together again, she decided she must say something, for to dance in solemn silence would appear singular.

"Do you often ride to Meryton?"

"Occasionally," he replied. "I made a new acquaintance there the other day when I saw you last."

"Mr Wickham," said Lizzy. Though she had not intended on warning Mr Darcy against the man, she could not help but continue with, "He makes new friends with great ease. Keeping them is another matter."

"He was unfortunate enough to lose your friendship."

"I have no wish to discuss it."

"I should not have expected you to," he replied with disdain.

Lizzy looked up at him, wondering what lies Wickham was spreading. She was tempted to ask Mr Darcy, but his expression was very forbidding.

At that moment Sir William, in the process of crossing the floor, congratulated them on their dancing. "Capital, capital - it is rare to witness such refinement." He leaned close to Mr Darcy and added in a carrying whisper. "Your friend has made quite a conquest - the young buck! And I see you have chosen yourself a prime filly too."

It was then that Darcy realised the gentleman was a trifle overtaken. Too much wine and a weak head were a poor combination. Luckily Sir William saw someone across the room that he wished to talk to and meandered away.

"What were we speaking of?" he asked, hoping that Elizabeth had not heard the souse's suggestive comments.

Lizzy was still reeling in shock from what she had overheard. How dared these men think they could dally with Jane and herself just because they were simple country maidens! "I don't think we had two words to say to each other, " she replied shortly.

It was a relief for both of them when the dance ended. He was furious with her dismissal of Wickham and it was a long time before his temper improved. He strode about in the garden for at least half an hour to collect himself. She recovered sooner, knowing full well who really deserved the brunt of her anger.

For the rest of the evening, Lizzy ensured that Jane was not alone with Mr Bingley. Her mother was obnoxiously loud as usual and her sisters were flirting like mad with the officers, and she relished it. She even urged Mary to play and sing something slow and solemn - anything to make her family look appalling in the eyes of the Bingleys. She wanted the friendship at an end and her dear Jane safe from Mr Bingley's philandering heart. And she desperately needed to free herself of the intoxicating feeling that the very sight of Mr Darcy kindled within her. When she asked her father to order the carriage as early as politeness allowed, he was game as a pebble. He had been longing for the solitude of his study for half the night - even the novelty of conversing with Mr Hurst was not enough to induce him to stay a moment longer than necessary.

Chapter Seven

Posted on Tuesday, 28 March 2006

The morning after the ball Elizabeth found herself alone in the drawing room with her cousin.

He approached her hesitantly and said with some diffidence, “I have something of a very particular nature to discuss with you Cousin Elizabeth.”

Lizzy blushed and turned her face away. `Please,' she thought. `Please do not let this be what I think it is. Jane is the one he should be asking. Jane, not me.'

But the annoying truth was that it was neither Lizzy nor even Jane who Mr Collins wished to marry. It wasn't a Bennet girl at all - gone was the answer to Mrs Bennet's hopes for redemption from the hedgerows.

Though Lizzy had not managed to articulate much of anything, Mr Collins felt emboldened to continue with his declaration.

“I am not a quixotic man, and never act on impulse - you must believe this, cousin,” he said, still leaving her totally at sea as to the purport of his utterances. “I came here to Longbourn with a goal in mind - a goal that I was not averse at all in achieving particularly once I had met you specifically. I know, however, that you will in no way be hurt by what I am about to disclose because your inclination did not follow mine. Your attempts to match me with Cousin Jane were quite blatant and would have amused me had I not realised that, though misguided, you were acting out of desperation for the welfare of your sister.”

Lizzy managed to find her voice now. “But Jane is such a beautiful and sweet angel - how could you possibly not want to marry her?”

“Two reasons, dear Elizabeth,” he said gently. “I am more attracted to ladies of a vivacious nature, and I have not the least interest in making love to a girl who has lost her heart to another.”

“But Mr Bingley is unworthy of Jane's love. Besides what Jane is suffering from is merely infatuation. If you were to marry her I am certain a bond of true and stolid love would build between you.”

“I do not want stolid love, Cousin,” whispered Mr Collins. “I want the moon and the stars and all the planets. This is what I am trying to tell you. I found just such a love last night.”

Lizzy's eyes widened. “Charlotte!” she cried.

“Yes,” he admitted. “Miss Lucas has stolen my heart and I am happy to say that I have taken illegal possession of hers as well.”

“It cannot be!” cried Lizzy. “How could my best friend turn my family such an underhanded trick? Please, Cousin, say you do not mean this! If you will not have Jane, why not set your sights upon Mary?”

“I had thought to have you, Elizabeth, not Jane, nor Mary, nor Kitty, nor Lydia. If I had asked for your hand, and you had refused me, which is what I am convinced would have taken place, please believe that I would not have shifted my interest to one of your sisters. That would have been the act of an unfeeling buffoon. If I had not met my sweet Charlotte I would have returned to Hunsford unbetrothed and laid aside the idea of marriage for quite some time, much to the severe disappointment of my illustrious patroness.”

“Are you saying that you and Charlotte . . .”

“Yes Elizabeth, I am. I proposed to her last night when we slipped out onto the terrace and she accepted. Please say that you are happy for us. If this is how you, my friend, react then what am I to expect from your mother, who had accepted me into her house only because she expected me to choose one of her daughters?”

Elizabeth could not help but feel completely betrayed by Charlotte, but she hid her spleen and congratulated her cousin, then entered into the discussion of what was really pressing upon his mind - how to break his news to her parents. She couldn't positively predict her father's reaction, but her mother, she was certain, would throw every kind of fit and want Mr Collins tossed out of Longbourn upon his ear.

Mr Bennet took the news of Mr Collins' engagement very philosophically.

“I am certain you girls did all you could to capture the gentleman for yourselves,” he said. “A pity that no one took into consideration the variable of Miss Lucas and her compound charms.”

“Miss Lucas' charms indeed!” cried Mrs Bennet with much vigour for someone who was lying prostrate upon a divan. “I'll wager she stayed on the shelf all these years just waiting for the opportunity to stab us in the back in this very manner. The Lucases have always coveted Longbourn. Many a time I've watched Lady Lucas and Charlotte with avarice gleaming from their eyes as they gazed upon all our possessions! It is the ultimate of treachery after I treated that girl just like one of my own daughters!”

“Which daughter was that, pray?” asked her husband, enjoying himself vastly. If not for the niggling concern about how his family would fare if he were to drop dead immediately, he would be applauding all the Lucases for their audacious coup. For, if his wife was to be believed in the least little bit, audacity had played a major part in the entire affair. “I do not suppose you lavished as much attention upon Charlotte Lucas as you do Lydia, and you have never quite extolled her beauty in the way you extol Jane's. It must be that you neglected her as much as you do the other three.”

“Mr Bennet! How can you say such things! Neglect my girls! Oh, what has all that to do with anything? You must find Mr Collins directly and insist that he give up this engagement and make good the bargain he made with us. Lizzy has obstinately refused to encourage Mr Darcy's attentions so she shall do nicely for him.”

Mr Bennet could not help looking at his second daughter and raising an eyebrow. “Mr Darcy was paying you attentions?”

Lizzy blushed. If only it truly were the case. “In my mother's dreams,” she answered with the same level of sarcasm her father had used.

“Mr Bennet!” cried his good lady, thrusting a bottle of hartshorn under her nose and breathing deeply. “If you do not this minute make the effort to convince your perfidious cousin of his duty to his family, the very foundations of civilised society, and even the empire itself, I shall never speak to you again!”

“Is that a promise, my dear?”

“And if you do not manage to change his mind I shall speak drivel incessantly for the rest of our married life!”

“'Tis as I feared,” said Mr Bennet sorrowfully, for he had no intention of broaching the subject with his cousin at all. “Nothing will change.”

For the rest of the week Mr Collins showed the good sense to spend most of his waking hours at Lucas Lodge. He had offered to cut his visit short, but Mr Bennet had assured him that there was no need. Hospitality had been promised to him until Saturday, and thus it would remain.

Lizzy had difficulty hiding her resentment from Charlotte; after all she'd shared her aspirations for Jane and Mr Collins with her best friend and she felt offended that Charlotte had selfishly placed her own feelings above saving Jane from possible ruination at the hands of a practiced womanizer. Lizzy also felt very guilty about this attitude because she knew she ought to be pleased that Charlotte and Mr Collins had found true love, and in her heart of hearts she was. She was glad that they spent all this time of courtship away from Longbourn so she did not have to face the reminder of her own shortcomings at every turn, especially as the bliss they exuded caused her to feel positively chartreuse with envy, and to dwell upon Mr Darcy's manifold attractions a little too ardently.

The next morning Lizzy walked to Meryton with her sisters. While they were traipsing down the street eying all the shop windows with fervent interest, Mr Wickham and Captain Denny joined them. Lizzy was clearly affronted by his effrontery at claiming a previous acquaintance but her younger sisters, fascinated by the red of their jackets, eagerly invited both gentlemen to accompany them to their aunt Phillips'.

“I do apologise Mr Wickham,” cried Lydia, “for not acknowledging you the last time we met, but I was only a child of nine when I had previously laid eyes on you.”

“Your apology is absolutely unnecessary,” he replied in a sugary voice. “I should not have recognised you either. You have grown up quite a bit since then. I swear that your beauty, and indeed the beauty of all your sisters, has trebled in that time.”

Lydia giggled. “And you, sir, have become most dashing and handsome.”

Kitty nodded her head wildly in agreement. Wickham looked over to Lizzy, who had been studiously ignoring him, and smirked. She turned her head away in disgust.

After all the proper greetings had been made upon being ushered into the Phillips' parlour, Wickham sought Lizzy out.

“This is a most unpropitious welcome for the prodigal.”

“Prodigal!” Lizzy said with venom. “If it were not unladylike I would spit upon your vile countenance.”

Wickham laughed. “Still the temper I enjoy so much!”

“You are despicable.”

“Thank you. I do try.”

“If you think you can finagle your way into my sister's good graces you are much mistaken.”

“From what I have seen of your sisters, nothing could be easier,” he replied blandly. “But I prefer a challenge.” He gave her a look that spoke volumes.

Lizzy turned away from him.

“The other day I made a most interesting new friend,” said Wickham. “The gentleman told me you hold him in some disdain - I could have sworn otherwise.”

Against her better judgement, Lizzy took the bait. “What lies did you tell Mr Darcy?”

“It little matters what I told him; suffice to say that whatever pretensions you had towards the gentleman, they will never come to fruition.”

“I have no idea what you are talking about,” said Lizzy, flushing strongly.

“You are transparent.” Wickham grinned - he was clearly enjoying himself. “Many a man puffed up by being the darling of society has fallen into the same snare you were setting. A gentleman who is always courted becomes intrigued by seeming indifference. I salute your attempt - it was inspired.”

“I refuse to converse with you any further,” said Lizzy and she got up and took a seat beside Jane instead.

Mr Wickham smiled complacently and entered into conversation with Mrs Phillips as if there were no one else in the room he would rather be talking to. He even took it well when Lizzy refused his offer of an escort back to Longbourn, and, despite their younger sisters' complaints, Jane steadfastly supported Lizzy's decision.

When the girls arrived home there was a letter awaiting Jane and Elizabeth from Caroline Bingley. Jane opened it eagerly.

“She is inviting us to come to London with her. Oh Mama, may we?” asked Jane, her eyes shining with excitement.

“Let me see that,” said Lizzy, pulling the letter from Jane's grasp. The fact that the Bingleys were leaving the country was music to Elizabeth's ears. Jane would be safe at last, and she . . . she would have the temptation that was Mr Darcy far, far out of her reach. She needed to be cured of her unaccountably wanton desires in respect to that man. Actually, she had to concede that her desires were more ludicrous than wanton. She fantasized not upon a mere dalliance but on owning him heart, body, and soul. And the idea of a man like him deigning to marry a girl like her took the word fantasy to new and spiralling heights. She corralled her thoughts, smoothed the page, and read Miss Bingley's invitation.

My dear friends,

Unforeseen circumstances necessitate our immediate removal from Netherfield, and make it certain that we shall be gone for quite some time. I would not mind so very much if not for the fact that I will be separated from both of you when we are just beginning to become such close friends. Our parting cannot be tolerated. I have come upon a perfect solution - that the two of you should sojourn with myself and Louisa in London for as long as your kind parents can spare you. Is this not a delightful plan? You will be able to meet Miss Darcy whom you have heard so much about. She is the sweetest of girls and soon to be almost a sister to me. My brother and Mr Darcy will also be in Town so we shall make the liveliest of parties.

Please say yes and grant my dearest of wishes.

Your true friend

Caroline Bingley

“London!” shrieked Mrs Bennet, her spirits reviving for the first time since the duplicity of Charlotte and Collins.

“No, Mama. Wait,” said Lizzy. “We cannot go.”

“Cannot go?” asked Jane, the pleasure ebbing from her face. “What is to stop us?”

“Jane,” said Lizzy gently. “You know that hurting you is the last thing I desire, but I see no way in which you will not be hurt at least in some small way by what I have to say. We rarely disagree but on this one point. Unfortunately this letter only goes to prove that Mr Bingley has been playing fast and loose with your heart.”

Jane looked at her, speechless.

Mrs Bennet, however, still had her wits about her. “An invitation to stay with them in London? How could that possibly prove that the gentleman was only trifling with my sweet Jane? I see it as proof of his further intentions.”

“Has nobody read this insincere testament with any care?” Lizzy was becoming aggravated. “She is throwing our expectations in our faces!”

“She is inviting us to London in a most friendly manner,” said Jane, almost in tears.

“Did you not read what she said of Miss Darcy? Soon to be almost a siste? Can that mean anything other than that her brother is about to marry the girl?”

“It could mean that Miss Bingley is about to marry Mr Darcy,” said Jane without conviction.

Lizzy laughed bitterly. “Mr Darcy is engaged to his cousin, Miss Anne de Bourgh.” She was surprised at how much it hurt her to say it out loud.

As Jane began to cry Lizzy took her into her arms in an attempt to comfort her.

“But I love him so,” Jane sobbed. “I thought he loved me too.”

“Men are nothing but double dealing opportunists,” said Lizzy. “They will tell a girl anything she wants to hear - but they rarely have marriage on their minds. I am only grateful that you were spared before Mr Bingley managed to compromise you in any way.”

The look of guilty apprehension that Jane cast Lizzy before she burst into a fresh bout of tears did not bode well at all.

Chapter Eight

Lizzy's chagrin towards Charlotte had abated somewhat when she saw the very evident joy her engagement had brought her. Their friendship was thus able to continue almost upon the same level of intimacy as it had previously. This was partly due to the fact that Lizzy had never voiced her reservations to her friend in quite the same way as she had voiced them to her cousin. Charlotte had only been aware of some mild constraint - which she had expected, knowing full well that Lizzy had entertained designs on Collins for her sister.

The two were walking in the garden together, discussing the arrangements for the forthcoming wedding, when Lizzy finally broke down and disclosed to her friend what was truly most pressing upon her mind.

“I am greatly worried for Jane.”

“Whyever so?” asked Charlotte. “Mr Bingley, whom you mistrusted so much, has gone from the neighbourhood. Though I sincerely doubt he was quite the rake you made him out to be - I thought him rather sweet and even somewhat shy.”

“Shyness well employed is a very useful art in the seduction of a young lady.”

Charlotte smirked. “You have based this statement on your extensive familiarity with such endeavours, I suppose.”

Lizzie tossed her head. “Laugh at me all you want - I have eyes and ears that function well enough for me to understand the ways of the world.”

“Well, Lizzy,” said Charlotte, “far be it from me to set out to annoy you by speaking a simple truth, but I think you have done both the young gentleman and your sister a disservice. In my estimation they were in a fair way to falling in love. One ought never to stand in the way of love.” Her eyes went dreamy.

“Love!” Lizzy scoffed. “Because you are so smitten you want to see the same in everybody. Lust is more like.”

“From where does such bitterness spring?”

“You did not see Jane's face when I rejoiced that Mr Bingley had gone before he had the opportunity to compromise her in any way. I very much fear she has been . . . tampered with.”

“Lizzy! Do you not think it better that you speak with your sister before jumping to such outrageous conclusions? Knowing Jane, I would say that simply the remembrance of him kissing her hand would make her look conscious.”

Lizzy's fears could not be mollified quite that easily. Her hand had been kissed a number of times and the thought of it never brought more than a light blush to her cheeks. It had to be something much more intimate to have affected Jane so strongly. Her sister was clearly not the same carefree young lady she had been before the advent of the Bingleys.

That evening she closeted herself with her sister hoping that she would confide in her.

“Dearest Jane,” she said, upon seeing how close to tears her sister was. “You may tell me anything - I shall not judge you.” She threw her arms about her and pulled her close.

“Judge me? In what way?”

“You may have committed some sort of indiscretion . . . but I know with whom the fault lies.”

“The fault? Oh no! I have nothing to reproach him with.” Tears rolled down Jane's cheeks. “The fault is all mine - therein lies the pain.”

Lizzy held Jane away from her and stared into her eyes to try to understand the import of so atoning a statement.

“I must believe you to be right, Lizzy - he never loved me. My vanity deceived me. I fancied his admiration to mean more than it did. I vow to forget him and his sister - little good it will do to hold them dear. Let us never mention again these things that bring such torment.”

“But . . . if you have been compromised redress must be sought!”

“Lizzy, no more - I beseech you!”

Lizzy could do naught but promise her sister and vow to do all she could to bring her happiness and relieve the desolation that emanated from her usually serene face. Some distraction must be sought. It was bad enough that her father was continually making jokes about them being crossed in love, and suggesting all manner of further candidates for additional jilting.

Charlotte's wedding came and went. Mrs Bennet held up tolerably well until the end of the service when no one stormed the church to speak against the union. Her wails when they said `I do' almost drowned out the organist - but that stout soul had been practicing the wedding march for a fortnight and was not to be outdone. It turned into a battle to see who could perform the loudest and the bridal party all but ran from the church to preserve their eardrums.

The following Monday the Gardiners arrived to spend Christmas at Longbourn. Mr Gardiner was Mrs Bennet's brother and they were as alike as two peas in a pod. He had married a tradesman's daughter with a small fortune and they lived in some style upon the edges of fashion in London. They had four small children for whom they had great aspirations. Where they were only considered to belong to the mushroom set, they wanted their children to attain acceptance in the upper echelons of society. To these ends Mrs Gardiner hoped her accomplished nieces would stand her in good stead by teaching her daughters to behave like demure young ladies. So it was arranged that Jane was to go to Town with them and stay for some months.

Lizzy took her aunt aside one afternoon and made her familiar with the history of Jane's recent disappointment.

“'Tis a pity she did not capture him,” her aunt tut-tutted.

“His intentions were not honourable, aunt. I worry lest Jane should come across Mr Bingley or his sister whilst in London. Promise me that you will protect her from him.”

“Never fear, we don't ride with that set,” said her aunt, shaking her head in sorrow. “Besides, Jane shall be so occupied with the children she will have little time for gallivanting, mark my words.”

Lizzy reflected that this was true - she knew her aunt well and didn't envy her sister this visit. It would, however, keep Jane's mind from dwelling upon what was never to be and might also throw her in the path of some worthy young clerk involved with her uncle's business.

“Now tell me more,” said her aunt, prepared to settle down for a good gossip. “Mr Darcy is quite the talk of London, you know, for being so rich and handsome and high in the instep. They say that no young lady is good enough for him - the prettiest girls are constantly after him and he disdains them all. I hear he is holding out for a viscountess.”

“Then his engagement is not generally known?”

“His engagement! Do tell! Is it that flashy young Miss Bingley?”

`She would be so lucky,' thought Lizzy. “It is his cousin, Miss Anne de Bourgh.”

“Well, isn't that a slap in the face to all the society mamas,” laughed Mrs Gardiner. “Trust the old bat Lady Catherine to keep her nephew's fortune in the family. Never a more avaricious woman there was than her.”

“So - they are well matched, then.”

“Do I detect some bitterness in your voice? I declare - I believe you fell for him yourself!” She chuckled at the thought.

“Don't be absurd, Auntie. The man is admittedly handsome but his personality is barely tolerable.”

Mrs Gardiner laughed all the more. “If only you could have caught him - our future in society would have been secure. Oh - do not scowl at me so - I am only joking. What chance would you ever have had where scores of richer, prettier, more accomplished young ladies have failed? Now - who is that I see coming towards us? Don't tell me it's that reprobate Wickham!”

“It is,” said Lizzy, her features becoming rigid.

“I do delight in a rake!” cried Mrs Gardiner, surging forward to greet him.

Lizzy barely suppressed a groan. Why was it that rakes were so universally admired? Wickham ought not to be accepted anywhere, but he was even welcomed here in her father's house, where he had failed his godfather miserably and abused his generosity, hospitality and trust. Her father should have known enough of him, without any of her disclosures, to ban him from entrance. But her father not only was a forgiving sort, he put his own amusement above everything else. And it amused him to try to catch Wickham out in a lie.

After a lively conversation with her aunt, Wickham sidled up to Lizzy who turned her back on him.

“You have such terribly common connections,” he said. “Even if I had not put a word of warning in Darcy's ear, one sight of your brass-faced aunt and he would have run.”

“I do not know why you persist in this charade,” said Lizzy. “He is engaged to his cousin.”

“Engaged to his cousin! I have it on very good authority that he has no intention of marrying his cousin.”

“I have it on good authority that he has,” countered Lizzy, ignoring the little burst of hope she felt at his words.

“Ah well - who is to say? Poor Miss Elizabeth. To be so thwarted in your quest for love.”

“Mr Darcy and I never had any interest in each other,” Lizzy responded coldly, and began to move away from him.

Wickham reached out and grabbed her arm. “I do not trust any man within six feet of you. Your power is persuasive. Darcy could not have resisted your charms had I not intervened. Even I, now, knowing you as I do, find you so very alluring I am almost prepared to break my resolve.”

Lizzy tried to shake his arm off but his hold only tightened. “You may yet be safe from me,” he whispered. “For even handsome men must have something to live on as well as the plain. A young heiress has come to my notice - ten thousand pounds a year - so I must be circumspect.” He laughed. “Do not think this an easy decision for me to make. Miss Mary King is a nasty, freckled little thing and you are so delectable. Once I am sure of her I may well be back.” He reached out and ran a finger caressingly down Lizzy's cheek. She shuddered convulsively.

“You are vile.”

“Indeed,” he agreed, and was gone.

Lizzy ran further into the garden and then leaned against a tree and sought to compose herself as her stomach heaved. Now more than ever she knew she ought to come forward, but the thought of the shame and scandal that her revelations would bring prevented her. She hoped to God that this heiress' family would be able to see through Wickham's false charms and remove her from his orbit. She could not risk the futures of herself and her sisters for some unknown girl.

After a few minutes Lizzy was able to return to the gathering. She tried to ignore the guilt that she felt for the comfort of knowing that Wickham's pursuit of Miss King would spare her his repulsive attentions.

“Lizzy,” cried her Uncle Gardiner upon her return, “have you been hiding from me?”

“No uncle.”

“You must know I mean to take you to task for your treatment of your dear mother.”

Lizzy sighed. “What have I done?”

“What have you not done may be more to the question! Frazzling her poor nerves to the bone by refusing to make any effort with the gentlemen. Convincing your sister to do the same. Refusing invitations to stay in London with a family of the pink of the ton. Encouraging your cousin Mr Collins to propose to your friend rather than yourself or one of your sisters. How is she going to ever marry all you dowerless girls off without the least little bit of cooperation? If only she had listened to me when she was younger and had married Mr Snodgrass. He may have been old but he was rich as Midas. But no! She had to have her gentleman with his country estate. And then only to discover that it was entailed! Do you think I will support you all when your father dies and the Collinses turn you out? I have four children of my own to provide for! Marriage is your only recourse, my dear.”

“I know that, Uncle,” said Lizzy. It was so unfair! She was already keeping secrets to protect her marriageability and that of her sisters. She could not be held responsible for the fact that Mr Darcy was a dilettante, Mr Bingley a philanderer, and Mr Collins a romantic idealist. It was hardly her fault that the rest of the gentlemen in the vicinity were boring to a T or soldiers with no thoughts of matrimony. And it wasn't as if she had even refused a proposal.

“I find myself completely at a stand,” he cried. “I am taking Jane off my sister's hands for a few months - in what other way can I help my dear sister?”

“You could introduce Jane to some nice young lawyer or accountant,” said Lizzy.

“With her looks so ravaged? Your mother is afraid Jane will go into a decline and die.”

“Uncle! Jane will be well - you will see. All she needs is a change of place. And she dotes on her cousins - she could not be better situated.”

“And what of you Lizzy? What effort are you prepared to make while I am inviting all these callow youths to sup with me?”

“I have been invited to stay with Mr and Mrs Collins in Hunsford this spring. I am certain they will do their best to introduce me to all the worthy young men of the parish.”

“Humph,” was his reply. “What good will it do when you spurn them all? You have too big an opinion of yourself, my girl. Now take my advice. Pretty yourself up, put on some ribbons, and smile at the gentlemen. Do not be forever rambling on about books and politics. And none of your impertinence. A man wants a biddable wife.”

With that, Mr Gardiner ambled off, feeling that he had done his duty as uncle and counsellor. It was a pity the girl's own father had not the sense to administer such valuable advice as he.

Chapter Nine

In the months that ensued Lizzy did her best to curb her infatuation for a certain undeserving green-eyed gentleman. She wished that Jane had been managing as well in London but unfortunately her letters were full of Mr. Bingley, as she constantly compared every gentleman her aunt and uncle introduced against her memories of him. Luckily her duties with the children kept her so busy there was no danger at all of her meeting her old flame. All Lizzy could do was thank heaven for small mercies.

March dawned bringing warmer weather, spring flowers, and the promised trip to Kent. Sir William and Maria Lucas were not the best of travelling companions as they never stopped talking the entire way; it was with much relief that Lizzy was finally able to jump down from the carriage and greet Charlotte and Mr Collins at the gate of their snug parsonage in Hunsford. All was shown to her with much delight and pride of place.

“But here,” said her cousin with a smile, “is truly the piece de resistance,” and he pulled open a closet door with one dramatic motion. Inside his greatcoat hung from a hook beside Charlotte's winter cloak.

“Fascinating,” said Lizzy, failing completely to understand the enormous significance of the sight before her eyes. Charlotte and Collins were almost collapsing with laughter. “You have warm winter wear.”

Sir William and Maria dutifully uttered oohs and ahs, but their faces were as blank as the back of the closet wall.

“Perhaps you should explain, dearest,” said Charlotte to her husband. “I'm afraid I can't possibly manage.” And she exploded with laughter once more.

“My esteemed patroness takes the utmost interest in the most minute details of our life, from the number of rows of cauliflower in the garden to the amount of eggcups necessary to augment our dinnerware. She insisted upon shelves in all of our closets - in fact we have been inundated with a veritable plethora of shelves. The linen closet Charlotte! They must see the linen closet.”

Charlotte led the entire party down the hall to her housekeeping room and grandly opened the nearest closet door. Lizzy gazed in shock at its contents.

“I believe there are forty-five shelves in all,” said Collins. “The sheets must be fully starched in order to slide them into such narrow slots.”

“In our kitchen closets,” added Charlotte, “we can stack no more than two plates per shelf.”

“This is why we take such pride in our hall closet,” said Collins with a grin. “It was a great standoff between two determined individuals but I carried the day - no small feat as you will appreciate all the more once you finally meet Lady Catherine. Now, if I may take your coats? I believe there are hooks enough to hang the lot.”

That Sunday at church Lizzy had her first opportunity to see the great lady for herself. She was small and bird-like, and dressed in lavender crepe with black trimmings.

`This is the grand Lady Catherine de Bourgh?' thought Lizzy upon seeing her. `She looks most unprepossessing.' She wondered how her cousin could ever have compared this lady's looks to those of Mr Darcy, but on closer inspection she noticed that Lady Catherine did indeed have a very aristocratic nose and was actually taller than she had first supposed, though definitely more than a foot shorter than her nephew.

After the service Lizzy was presented to Lady Catherine, along with Sir William and Maria Lucas.

“You must bring your entire party for tea at three o'clock today,” she announced to Mr Collins. Lizzy was astonished that the lady managed to look down her nose at everyone, though she was the shortest of the group. “Mind you are not late.”

Lizzy caught her cousin rolling his eyes before he escorted his patroness to her waiting carriage and handed her up.

“Given the amount of clocks she has provided us with,” whispered Charlotte in Lizzy's ear, “it is amazing she could imagine the possibility of us being late.”

In any event they were not late, though Mr Collins had to be urged out of the house and a very quick pace was set for their walk to Rosings.

“It would not hurt the demon to have to wait for once in her life,” announced Collins. He had been in the middle of a comfortable snooze and he resented having to awake in haste just to gratify Lady Catherine's pleasure.

“Hush, my love,” said Charlotte. “I would not want her to blame our guests and look askance at any one of them.”

Lizzy was most interested to finally see the mansion of Rosings that she had heard so much about, and also to meet Miss Anne de Bourgh, the young lady destined to be Mr Darcy's wife. The façade of the building was indeed adorned with many windows, and indoors Lizzy was witness to multiple staircases as the party was led from the grand entrance doors to the elegant drawing room where their hostess had chosen to receive them. Lady Catherine was seated like royalty upon a large armchair on a raised dais. To her right were two ladies, one older and plainly dressed, the other decked out in a mass of ruffles and lace.

“My daughter,” she announced with considerable pride. The other lady she did not mention at all.

Lizzy studied Miss de Bourgh as they exchanged nods. She was a robust young lady with rosy cheeks. Her face was pleasant enough but she had the habit of scrunching it up in the manner of a person whose spectacles had been mislaid. Her hands, which lay disposed upon her lap, were large and well formed, with long, elegant fingers. She said nothing, seeming content to let her mother be the spokeswoman.

“You are not yet married,” said Lady Catherine to Lizzy, after all the formalities had been observed and they had seated themselves on a row of low chairs to her left, “and yet surely you must be twenty at least.”

“Indeed,” said Lizzy, eyeing her coldly.

“You must have been disappointed with Mr Collins' choice - to have picked your friend over you to the detriment of your family. I know all about the entail - a nasty business - though I am pleased for the Collinses, you understand, I still feel for you and all your sisters. I am surprised that your mother has not found you all husbands yet - I think that very behindhand in her parenting. But then, she did go and have five daughters. What was she thinking?”

“I believe the idea was to beget a son,” said Lizzy.

“Well she did a very poor job of it, in my opinion. If I had other children I would have had more than one son.”

Lizzy was trying hard to control her growing anger.

“You are tolerably pretty. I should be able to find you a husband before your visit is over, despite your age and lack of dowry.”

Lizzy clenched her teeth. “I have no interest in casting about for a husband - that was not my reason in coming here.”

“I will set myself to the task nonetheless. I have made matches for many a young lady - all of them very advantageous. You see, my own daughter has been betrothed to her cousin from the cradle so I have had to shower my abilities upon my acquaintances instead. Miss Maria - I do not doubt I can encounter just the young man for you as well. Why, the apothecary's son, Mr Simplin, would do very well for either of you - he has no right to be choosey.”

Lizzy had stopped listening to Lady Catherine. For one thing it was too aggravating. For another she had just confirmed the engagement of Mr Darcy to her daughter and Lizzy could think of nothing else. It was indeed true! How very annoying! And Anne de Bourgh, to top it off, had the docility of a cow. Not to mention the figure. It was unthinkable that a piece of physical perfection such as Mr Darcy should be her reward.

The next visit to Rosings was no more pleasing. This time Lady Catherine had quite an extensive list of possible beaux for the two young ladies, and she was also compiling a list of Hertfordshire gentlemen she had heard tell of from her numerous connections to send to Mrs Bennet to assist her in disposing of the rest of her daughters.

“At least your mother had the good sense to bring you all out,” she said. “It would never do if the youngest were to have to wait for the eldest to marry, especially as you and your sister Jane appear to have been very disobliging in that respect.” Lady Catherine then turned to Mrs Collins. “You must take the young ladies into the village at your soonest opportunity and allow them to parade back and forth between the shops - that ought to stir up some notice.”

Charlotte only nodded and smiled. It seemed to Lizzy that she did little else in Lady Catherine's presence, but she invariably never followed that lady's liberally dispersed advice.

Lady Catherine then turned her gimlet eyes back upon Lizzy. “Accomplishments!” she cried. “They are paramount. Do you draw? Play? Sing? Do needlework?”

“Indeed I do,” said Elizabeth. “My education has not been deficient. I can also read Latin and Greek, if you would care to know.”

“Latin and Greek! Never breathe a word of that in the presence of a gentleman. Why, if my dear husband, God rest his soul, had any inkling that I had even read The Iliad in translation he would never have married me, and I am the daughter of an earl! But to play and sing is always acceptable, and I am a true proficient. My daughter also excels at the art but I have ensured that she was kept away from books altogether. She can read nothing but music.”

Lizzy wondered how Mr Darcy, who put reading down as one of the prime accomplishments of a young lady, appreciated this gap in his future wife's education. She imagined he would have to look elsewhere for his literary gratification, and stifled a giggle at the idea of a mistress whose duties would be little more than that of a librarian. Her lively imagination then led her to dwell on what it would be like if she were to be the one to share those particular intimacies with him, whispering sonnets into one well shaped ear as they sat together before the fire. This made her think of the times he had held her in his arms and carried her up and down the staircases of Netherfield, and she was blushing at the thought when suddenly she heard his name uttered by Lady Catherine.

“My nephews Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam will be visiting for a number of weeks. They always come to Rosings for Easter - so punctilious in their devotion to us - especially Darcy, but then he has all the more reason.” Here she smiled significantly at her daughter who giggled, her cheeks flaming more rosily than ever. “I imagine we shall be caught up in the final preparations for the wedding and not have much time at all for you, Mrs Collins, or your guests. But I promise that I shall lend as much time as I can to our matchmaking schemes. You must give a card party, or a musical evening. I will draw you up a guest list. If you throw the doors open between your back parlour and front, and remove all the occasional tables to the morning room, you should have ample space for five or six couples to stand up to dance.”

Lizzy was more concerned with the statement about the wedding preparations than anything else. She turned to Miss Anne and asked, “When is the wedding to be?”

“Oh la!” said Anne. “I have not the least idea. Mr Darcy has not yet set a date, but Mama will pin him down this time - she is most determined.”

“Of that I have no doubt,” said Lizzy. “You must be looking forward to the wedding yourself.” `With such inducement,' she might have added as her thoughts strayed to Mr Darcy's many favourable attributes, not the least of which were his lustrous green eyes.

“I daresay I am,” giggled Anne. “I understand you have met my fiancé.”

“He resided in Hertfordshire for some weeks, not three miles from my home.”

“Then you know what he is like and must envy me greatly.” She tittered. “Although I admit that sometimes I cannot follow his conversation at all - but I do not feel conversation matters for very much anyway.” She smiled complacently and settled back in her chair.

It was the most Lizzy had ever heard her say and she received the distinct impression that Anne believed she had carried her point and therefore had no need speak any further. Lizzy, however, wanted more information. There was, after all, another cousin coming whom she knew nothing of.

“Is your cousin the colonel as elegant a gentleman as Mr Darcy?”

“What are you speaking of?” asked Lady Catherine, stopping midway in her instructions to Mrs Collins. “I must be part of the conversation.”

“I was merely asking after Colonel Fitzwilliam,” said Lizzy.

“I do hope you are not getting any ideas about my nephew,” said Lady Catherine. “He is quite out of your sphere. I know he is only a second son, but I beg you to remember he is the second son of an earl, and who may I ask are you? The daughter of an impoverished country gentleman!”

“I have no designs upon him.”

“I should think not! I do hope you know your place. Colonel Fitzwilliam is a very gracious young man - you would be hard pressed to find his equal, especially in such an unvaried society as you are accustomed to.”

“It was in my own neighbourhood that I made Mr Darcy's acquaintance,” Lizzy reminded her. “Would you not class them as equals?”

“Insolent girl! You know very well what I mean. Besides, as estimable as Colonel Fitzwilliam may be, he is nothing compared to Darcy. Why, Darcy's estate of Pemberley brings him a fortune of ten thousand pounds a year. The elegance of his home is unparalleled anywhere in the kingdom, with the exception of Rosings. Combined the two estates will be an asset of the highest degree. The colonel, however charming a young man he may be, knows his duty to himself and his family. He will marry an heiress - I have one or two in mind for him at this very moment. Marriage, my dear, is a means to prosperity; the greater the starting assets of those involved, the greater the final reward. In your case the gain can be but little. These are the standards that society is built upon and the basis of what makes our fine nation so great in the eyes of the rest of the world. So, as you must readily discern, marriage is your duty to country and crown. That is why I am toiling so hard to find you a husband and why your lack of interest in the endeavour is utterly appalling.”

Lizzy had to control herself not to burst out in laughter at such convoluted reasoning and therefore averted her glance and managed no more than a slight nod in response. Lady Catherine read this as admission of error and acceptance of her strictures, and was pleased. It was a relief to know that the girl could be reasoned into submission.

Chapter Ten

Sir William stayed only a week at Hunsford, much to the relief of both Lizzy and her cousin - his incessant, inane ramblings were a bit much to take in such a confined place as the snug parsonage. Mr Collins had spent more time in his study than was his wont and his dear wife found herself sorely missing his company. With her father gone, good sense reigned again in the parlour - that is until Lady Catherine's nephews' arrival, which turned normalcy upon its head.

Mr Collins would have met Mr Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam as soon as they arrived if his priorities involved pandering to the rich. As it was he spent the morning calling upon his poorest parishioners instead to see to their needs and discover what petitions ought to be made to his patroness. At least her penchant for being involved with the minutest details of the parish could be put to good use. Rather than shelves in closets, his ideas ran more to food upon tables. The following day he made his obligatory visit, and brought the two gentlemen home with him to pay their respects to his wife and visitors.

Lizzy looked up upon their entrance and noticed immediately that Mr Darcy was studiously trying to avoid her eyes. She had time to take in little else about him because his cousin practically bounded into the room. Imagine a tall man of military stature bounding in a rather cramped sitting room - a number of carefully placed occasional tables were at considerable peril. Lizzy grabbed her workbasket and shoved her needle deep into the pincushion; Charlotte was more concerned about her collection of Dresden shepherdesses.

“Miss Elizabeth Bennet!” the colonel said jovially after greeting the other occupants of the room. “I cannot tell you how I have been looking forward to this moment. I never imagined that in visiting my tiresome aunt I would be blessed with such a treat. I have heard so much about you, and I can see that none of it has been exaggeration!”

“About me?” asked Elizabeth, and she glanced towards Mr Darcy in uncertainty. He had been talking about her to his cousin? And in flattering terms? Her heart skipped a beat.

“Oh no - you are wrong there. It wasn't Darcy who told me - he is always very quiet about his lady loves - it was Miss Bingley!”

Darcy glared at the colonel, but said nothing.

Colonel Fitzwilliam unabashedly sat down beside Elizabeth and continued his lively banter. “You see - I have put him to the blush. So tell me, Miss Bennet, is this how my cousin always behaves whilst in your society? So aloof and reticent? How can he hope to win your affections if he does not dazzle you with his wit and intellect?”

Darcy cut in at last. “Please ignore my cousin, Miss Bennet. I fear at the moment he is not in his right mind, nor does he have very long to live.”

Lizzy's growing discomposure was soothed, and her troubled expression was replaced by a barely suppressed grin.

“I will stay by your side, Miss Bennet,” said the colonel, shaking in mock alarm, “for I value my life and know that you will protect me.”

“Is Mr Darcy such a fearsome creature?” she asked with an impish grin.

“I would not dare to lose his good opinion,” avowed the colonel. “But I should not wish you to get the wrong impression. He is a sweet and gentle man - he just does not have the means to recommend himself to strangers.”

“I have not the interest,” said Darcy. “In fact, at this moment, I have sworn off relatives as well.”

“Is he not quaint?” asked the colonel, gazing endearingly into Lizzy's eyes. “But enough about him. You must tell me all that Miss Bingley has told you of me, so that I may defend myself against her barbs.”

“She did not mention you to me at all, sir.”

“Oh woe! It is worse than I had expected. To be forgotten so soon when I thought I had made a good impression upon the lady. Miss Bennet, can you not advise me how I may put myself back in her good graces?”

“ Colonel Fitzwilliam, I believe you are talking a lot of nonsense. Did not you tell me that you had information about me from her? The two of you obviously share a closer friendship than do she and I. In fact I must admit to barely knowing the lady, so she could have no reason to make me privy to her private thoughts.”

“You relieve my mind immeasurably. To know that I am ensconced in her private thoughts is quite satisfying, though I would that she shouted it from the mountain tops.”

Lizzy giggled and Darcy took the gap in the conversation to politely ask after her family. Colonel Fitzwilliam sat back and smiled complacently.

“Just what on earth are you trying to do to me?” asked Darcy as he strode back towards Rosings, his cousin manfully keeping pace at his side.

“Only having a bit of fun at your expense, dear boy!”

“Your idea of fun and Caroline Bingley's idea of fun are not my idea of fun.”

“Pity. I think the girl has a fondness for you.”

“Elizabeth Bennet? Don't be absurd. She likes me as little as I like her.”

“I should have worded it differently,” mused the colonel. “I should have said she likes you as much as you like her.”

“Which is not very much at all.”

“They do say love is blind.”

“Will you not desist?”

The colonel heard how close Darcy was to true anger and decided he had teased him enough for one day. Besides, though it was true that Miss Bennet was not in a position to decline a proposal from someone as superlatively eligible as his cousin, there was just the outside chance that she was one of those pure-minded idealists who would only marry for the deepest love. But, he reflected further, there was no telling what a few of cupid's arrows carefully placed could be capable of. He only knew for certain that he was longing to see levelheaded Darcy fall irretrievably into the baffling pit of love.

During the week Colonel Fitzwilliam visited the parsonage once or twice, but Lizzy didn't see Mr Darcy until Easter morning in church. She was seated directly behind the de Bourgh family pew, and had a good view of the back of his head. Instead of listening to her cousin's well-developed sermon she allowed herself to become entranced with the way his brown hair turned away against the collar of his finely tailored green coat. After the service, Lady Catherine condescendingly invited the Collinses and their guests to spend their evening at Rosings.

Lizzy was interested to see Mr Darcy in company with his cousin Anne to get some idea of his feelings for her. She had been confused by Colonel Fitzwilliam's referral to herself as being Darcy's lady love. For one thing, Mr Darcy did not seem to pay her any excess of attention, for another - if he was truly betrothed to his cousin as Lady Catherine and Anne had both assured her he was - why would the colonel make such a reference? Was it an example of the easy morals displayed by high society? Did the colonel expect Lizzy to become involved with his cousin in some illicit liaison? Or did Mr Darcy have tender feelings for her that he was hiding?

Lady Catherine had arranged the seating so that Colonel Fitzwilliam was on her immediate left and Darcy on her immediate right. This placed Darcy directly beside his cousin. Anne was dressed in an elaborate creation of pink gauze, embellished with flounces and strung with cochineal ribbons and bows. She was gazing up at him with undisguised admiration and fluttering her eyelashes whenever he happened to glance in her direction. He appeared to be refraining from glancing towards Anne as much as possible. As far as Lizzy could determine, based upon his evident level of disinterest, if she had been his relation he would be as likely to marry her as to marry Anne.

“We must give you some music!” cried Lady Catherine, and hustled them all into the music room where she and Anne seated themselves at twin pianofortes. “A duet! Darcy - you must turn Anne's pages for her. Fitzwilliam will attend to mine.”

Their playing was exceptional, but the music chosen was pompous and pedantic. Lizzy was amazed that Anne did not miss a note with the way she was gazing artfully at Darcy through her thick lashes the entire time. At long last the concerto ended, and the Colonel insisted that Lizzy honour them with some music as well.

“It will be sure to be quite unequal to what you have just heard,” said Lady Catherine with a sniff, “but I suppose if she is so very eager to make a spectacle of herself we must oblige her.”

“I am not willing at all to display my singular lack of talent,” said Lizzy, somewhat stung at the inference when it had been the colonel's idea all along.

“I have heard Miss Bennet play,” said Darcy, prompted by his aunt's incivility, “and I have never found anything lacking.”

Lizzy cast him a smile in appreciation but only moved towards the instrument at Colonel Fitzwilliam's urging. When she sat to play he stayed beside her to turn the pages. “Unless you would prefer my cousin's assistance,” he whispered in her ear.

She shook her head adamantly. It was bad enough she was being forced to play after such an exemplary performance and against the wishes of her hostess. After a shaky start she managed a very simple piece without making too many startling errors. The colonel reflected that if Darcy thought nothing lacking in such indifferent playing he must indeed be a fair way to falling in love with the lady.

Lady Catherine turned to Mrs Collins and said, “Miss Eliza will never play really well - even practice cannot help the girl. We shall have to advertise her other accomplishments if we are to find her a husband.”

Darcy was by no means impressed by the performance, but he was willing to concede that it had been hampered by Miss Bennet's unease. His aunt's uncivil comments, however, he could not allow to go uncontested. “Not play very well? My dear Aunt Catherine you must have a tin ear.”

“I?” She cast Darcy a withering look. “My ear for music and my taste are unparalleled. I have learnt with the best masters, as has Anne. This little provincial miss was probably taught by the local parson's wife.”

“Aunt,” said Darcy as quietly as possible, “Do you never think before you speak? You are being very insulting towards your guests.”

“I am only speaking the truth. Since when is the truth not acceptable in polite society?”

Darcy groaned. Colonel Fitzwilliam took pity on him and addressed his aunt.

“Did I hear aright that there is matchmaking afoot?”

“Yes, Fitzwilliam. I have taken it upon myself to find husbands for both Miss Bennet and Miss Lucas.”

“May I be of assistance?” asked the colonel with a grin. “I am very partial to matchmaking myself, and rather good at it, if I may be so bold as to boast.”

“So far any attempts of yours have been severely misguided,” muttered Darcy.

“I think I could find Miss Bennet a charming husband - she is such a lovely girl. Do you not agree?”

“Certainly,” said Darcy noncommittally.

“I would rather,” said Lizzy, finally finding her voice, “not have all this fuss made over my marital state. Indeed I am not on the lookout for a husband, and if I were, I would manage the matter myself.”

“Up to this point in your life you have managed it very ill indeed,” said Lady Catherine. She then ignored Lizzy's attempts at response and turned to the colonel. “We are planning an evening's entertainment at the parsonage. I have the guest list right here. I was thinking the coming Friday most suitable.”

Colonel Fitzwilliam perused the list quickly. “But aunt! It is incomplete - neither you nor I nor Darcy nor Anne, is on the list. And who is this Mr Simplin character? He sounds intolerably common.”

Under cover of this animated conversation Darcy turned to Lizzy and apologised for all that had taken place, and everything that was still now occurring. It was galling but he had to admit something that was as annoying as it was true: his family was on par with hers for obnoxious behaviour.

Anne was none too pleased with the attention Darcy was giving Miss Bennet and she plumped herself down on the chair beside him. This caused her dress to billow like a burgeoning flower, the amazing effect drawing his eye like none of her simpering looks had managed. “You have not complimented me on my gown tonight cousin.”

“How remiss of me,” he answered tonelessly.

“You are so droll when you are coy!”

“I am neither droll nor coy.”

“You see - that is just what I meant!” She giggled and puffed up her skirts. “Is it not the most frothy, lovely gown you have ever seen?”

“Frothy is the very word I was searching for,” said Darcy, relieved to have found something almost complimentary to say. Frothy was indeed a very good word for the concoction - it looked more like a dessert than an article of clothing. “And what is your opinion of the gown, Miss Bennet?” he asked, hoping to draw her into the conversation and take his cousin's full focus away from himself.

“It is quite . . . pink,” she said, searching her mind for something to say that would not make her appear foolish. “Like a bouquet of delicate peonies.”

Darcy looked at Lizzy with no little admiration. She had managed her way out of that conundrum very well. He only wished he had been that inventive - and then he was glad that he had not; Anne did not need that type of encouragement.

Upon hearing the compliment, Anne did not even turn her head in Lizzy's direction. She kept her great bovine eyes trained on Darcy's face and contented herself with sighing every few minutes or so.

In the meantime, Colonel Fitzwilliam had severely derailed Lady Catherine's plans for a convivial gathering of rustics at the parsonage and turned it into a gala affair at Rosings to which the cream of the community was to be invited. “Think low and you end up scraping the bottom of the barrel,” he said. “Aim high and you might just be surprised with how well your two protégés make out.” His aunt would be very surprised indeed, and rather more than miffed, if he managed to achieve the great coup he had in mind.

Chapter Eleven

The next morning while Lizzy was by herself in the sitting room writing to Jane, Mr Darcy was ushered into her presence. She quickly put the letter away and stood up, blushing because when the gentleman had asked about her family before she had omitted to tell him that Jane was in London.

He was surprised to find her alone. “Colonel Fitzwilliam led me to believe that all the ladies were within,” he said. “He left his gloves behind and asked me to retrieve them as I was walking this way.”

“Gloves?” asked Lizzy. She thought it a flimsy excuse, and smiled at the notion that Mr Darcy may be attracted to her after all. She could imagine how interest in her must offend his pompous notions, and that he should be attempting to overcome such scruples was a pleasing idea. She decided that if she displayed no knowledge at all of the gloves he might leave right away, so she played for time. “I am certain that I have seen them about somewhere, but I disremember where.”

Darcy sat on the edge of his chair, rubbing his hands together absently as he waited.

`Being alone with me has certainly unnerved him,' thought Lizzy, and she settled herself more comfortably upon the settee. “I do not suppose your friend Mr Bingley will be returning to Netherfield,” she said. “He might as well give up the house.”

“I am not in his confidence,” said Darcy, “but if he wishes to keep it I see no reason why he should not. He may return whenever the fancy strikes him.”

“Fancy - yes. He is quite frivolous by nature.”

“I should not describe him thus.”

“Of course, your ideas on such matters would differ from mine,” allowed Lizzy. “Living the high life in London does tend to colour one's view.”

“And relying only on highly exaggerated reports does not, I presume?”

Lizzy decided she had teased him long enough - she had no desire to lose his favour, though she was inclined to believe he must enjoy teasing - the colonel and Miss Bingley both did it mercilessly and he appeared to be quite attached to them. Some gentlemen did not look for demure sweetness in a lady. After all, if that were what he wanted he would be dragging his cousin Anne to the altar. Not that Anne needed dragging by a long shot.

“Is not this house comfortable,” she exclaimed, “despite the fact that your aunt has taken a prodigious interest in its arrangement? Mr and Mrs Collins have managed to withstand her least practical ideas.”

“My aunt means well but can sometimes be officious,” said Darcy, colouring.

`Quite an understatement,' thought Lizzy, but rather than continue to disparage his aunt she thought it best to turn the conversation back towards her cousin. “I think Mr Collins fortunate in his choice of a wife.”

“Indeed,” replied Darcy, “though it must be difficult for her to reside so far from her family.”

“Far!” cried Lizzy. “It is but fifty miles! Do you think that because we are so rustic distances mean more to us than those in your elevated circles? I am certain you think nothing of travelling fifty miles.”

“In a well sprung carriage and on good roads to be sure, but for Mrs Collins . . .”

“Her father has the best of carriages,” said Lizzy with great spirit. “He is a knight of the realm after all, sir. Or are you forgetting?”

Darcy looked surprised. Lizzy decided that she may have let her annoyance get the better of her and shuffled through some things on the nearest table, pretending to look for the colonel's gloves. “I am most pleased with Kent,” she said.

Darcy mumbled something about the beauties of the countryside and began rubbing his hands together again.

Charlotte and Maria then joined them and Darcy explained that he had stopped by to retrieve Colonel Fitzwilliam's gloves.

“There are no gloves here to my knowledge,” said Charlotte upon which he wished them all a good day and left.

“You frightened him away!”

Charlotte grinned. “Our arrival was most unpropitious. Could it be he was getting up his nerve to pop the question?”

“Only if the question had something to do with gloves,” cried Lizzy in aggravation.

“You are most tiresome,” said Darcy when he had finally tracked his cousin down. “What was the purpose of that wild goose chase? I doubt you ever wore gloves to the parsonage.”

“Too true,” said Colonel Fitzwilliam with a grin, “but when I met Mrs Collins and her sister out walking and learned that Miss Bennet was at home alone I couldn't resist the opportunity of throwing the both of you together.”

“Have I not asked you not to meddle? I have no interest in that . . . vixen.”

“Oho! Here's progress! Vixen you call her? She must be breaking through your defences. Next you will be calling her a saucy baggage and then there is no telling where it will end - love muffin, or something of that nature.”

Darcy eyed him with distaste. “I rue the day I ever introduced you to Caroline Bingley.”

“It does not do to be jealous,” said the colonel, his eyes gleaming, “after all we are doing our best to find a sweetheart for you.”

Darcy rolled his eyes and left the room, slamming the door behind him. The colonel settled back in his chair, smiled happily, then pulled a newspaper over his face and promptly fell asleep.

From this time on the colonel and Lady Catherine walked to the parsonage every day, occasionally accompanied by Darcy, and even by Anne if there were a carriage in the mix - Anne had no interest in walking beyond her front door. The visits all centred on the plans for the upcoming ball. One thing that Lizzy and Darcy had in common was that neither of them had the slightest interest in the affair. Thus they often found themselves in the position of having to converse, if only to avoid hearing discussions that involved white soup, the disposition of urns of hothouse flowers and which orchestra could really be trusted not to butcher Lady Catherine's favourite cotillions.

The day of the ball dawned, and before she knew it Lizzy was having to dress for the insufferable affair. It was bad enough that Maria was running about the house in transports of delight, but Charlotte too had caught the bug and was trying to foist a set of emeralds upon Lizzy.

“They will go so well with your gown!” she appealed. “And match Mr Darcy's eyes perfectly.”

“You heard Lady Catherine. I am to be paired with the son of some apothecary called Simplin. Heaven forbid her darling nephew should so much as look at me once.”

“Mr Simplin is not to come,” said Charlotte. “The colonel nixed that plan. But there are quite a few eligible gentlemen in these parts who I expect to pay you much attention and set Mr Darcy thinking.”

“Do you suppose that will work?” asked Lizzy, almost moved to wear the emeralds. “No - I am being completely foolish! Why am I allowing myself to fall for a man from such an utterly unattainable sphere - it is unwise for you to encourage me, Charlotte.”

“The truth of the matter is,” said Charlotte, “that you are singularly annoying, Lizzy. I want the match. The colonel wants the match. If you cooperate I am certain we three combined can convince Mr Darcy that he wants the match.”

“And what of Lady Catherine and Anne?”

“Why do you think I am going to all this trouble? It's not for your benefit alone. I can't wait to see the look upon their faces and hear their shrieks of horror when they discover that their prize has slipped from their grasp.”

“I do believe you are all insane,” said Lizzy, but she held her hand out for the emeralds anyway. The lure of Mr Darcy was just too much for her to withstand. Maybe if she were to snare him she could convince him to denounce his tonnish pursuits. Maybe being rich and having more pin money and jewels and carriages than she could possibly want would not be as offensive as she anticipated. If she had possession of Mr Darcy and his lustrous eyes the sacrifice might be worth it.

Rosings glittered under the light of a multitude of chandeliers. If Lizzy asked Lady Catherine she would gladly have informed her of the amount of crystals and candles used in their assembly: however Lizzy had other things on her mind. There were gentlemen to flirt with shamelessly.

Maria's eyes grew huge when she looked at all the splendour around her. She stopped still in her tracks and became separated from her sister and Lizzy. All she could do was stare.

“It is a bit intimidating, isn't it?” asked a young gentleman at her elbow. “Lady Catherine doesn't know the meaning of the word abstemious.”

“Neither do I,” said Maria with a nervous giggle.

“It actually means moderate or sparing, and as you can see she has spared no expense tonight, or even spared our eyes for that matter,” he said with a smile.

“No indeed. It is very gaudy is it not?”

“However I did not approach you to discuss the décor. I was hoping you would dance with me.”

“But we have not been introduced,” Maria said reluctantly.

“I can remedy that,” he said. “Miss . . .” he glanced at her expectantly.

“Lucas.”

“Miss Lucas, may I present to you Mr Dalton as a most desirable dance partner? Mr Dalton, this lovely young lady is Miss Lucas.”

Maria giggled.

“Now that we have been properly introduced, may I have the pleasure of this dance?”

“I would be honoured, sir,” said Maria giving him a small curtsey.

Lizzy glanced back in time to see them walk onto the dance floor. “Who is that gentleman with your sister?” she asked Charlotte.

Charlotte turned and looked. “It is the squire's son. They appear to be dealing quite well together.” Her face became dreamy and her eyes began to glaze over.

“That is most charming for your sister, but where are all the gentlemen you foretold would be swooning at my feet? I thought these emeralds were supposed to make me irresistible.”

“You do look most lovely,” said Charlotte in confusion. “I really cannot imagine what is going on.”

And neither could Lizzy. The eligible gentlemen seemed to be shunning her like the plague. In fact they were all lined up in front of Anne and she was busy writing names upon her dance card.

The colonel sidled up. “It is working like a charm,” he whispered into Charlotte's ear. “Anne is so excited about the attention I am sure she will forget to save a space on her card for Darcy. He knows he will be obliged to ask her eventually but for now he's just biding his time.”

“Is he in on it?” she asked, incredulous.

“Oh no - deceit of any kind is his abhorrence and all that, but he's just so deuced reticent that he hasn't built up the courage to approach her. It takes a bit of nerve to face such slavish devotion, and I have played it to our advantage.”

“But - what about his approaching Lizzy?”

The colonel drew Charlotte away, glanced over to where Lizzy stood, and then continued in a considerably lowered voice. “I have that all under control - do you dare doubt me?”

“Yes,” responded Charlotte. “You said the emeralds you loaned me would do the trick but Lizzy has had no takers at all.”

“Upon consideration I realised that making Darcy envious was a fruitless endeavour, so instead I decided we would exploit his tender soul. He cannot bear injustice. If she is eschewed he will be at her side to rescue her from humiliation.”

“And just how did you manage to dissuade all these young men from dancing with someone as outright divine as dear Lizzy?” asked Charlotte thinking that the colonel indeed must have a silver tongue.

“I told them that she was a penniless adventuress and that the emeralds are paste.”

“Are they?” asked Charlotte with interest.

“No, they are worth a king's ransom - but none of these lummoxes can tell the difference. If they had any discernment they wouldn't have believed the first part of my assertion either.” He winked at Charlotte. “Here comes your husband. I had better leave before he plants me a facer in a jealous rage.”

“You and the colonel enjoyed quite an intimate tête-à-tête,” said Lizzy petulantly when Charlotte returned to her side.

“We did indeed!” Charlotte smiled dulcetly as her husband took her hand and led her to the floor.

Lizzy felt like a complete fool standing by the side of the dance floor dance after dance while everyone displayed their abilities before her in a happy array. The only other person who was not dancing was Mr Darcy. He stood on the other side of the room leaning against a pillar looking more handsome than any Greek god and just as beyond her reach. She groaned in frustration. The whole idea had been silly anyway and she had no clue why she had allowed Charlotte to talk her into it.

She was done with yearning for what she could not have, or even wishing for one of the other gentleman to ask her to dance. They were of the same breed as the men she spurned regularly in Hertfordshire so why should she even care if none had found her tolerable enough to dance with? She wandered away from the ballroom in search of refreshment, when she spied an open door leading outside onto the balcony. She slipped outdoors and leaned against the balustrade, looking at the full moon.

“It is impressive is it not?” came Mr Darcy's voice from behind her.

She sighed. “Much more so than fifty chandeliers, though you probably would not agree with me.”

“You are forever crediting me with opinions not my own,” said Mr Darcy as he came up beside her.

She gasped at the sheer beauty of his face silvered by the moonlight. And to think it would all be wasted on Anne some day.

“I came to ask if you would do me the honour of joining me on the dance floor.”

Lizzy thought she beheld pity in his eyes, but it may just have been an effect of the silver light and anyway she was beyond caring - to dance with him was what she had craved since she had walked through the grand entrance hall of Rosings, all swathed in reams of ivory silk and huge vases of exotic lilies.

She gave him her hand and smiled. When they were back in the ballroom she studied his eyes more carefully. She could not understand exactly what she saw there but her heart beat rapidly at the thought it might be admiration. At any rate, looking in his eyes was a heady experience and for the rest of the ball she could barely think at all.

Later that evening Darcy accosted Colonel Fitzwilliam among the wreckage of wilting flowers and drooping silks.

“What on earth induced you to lend the Fitzwilliam emeralds to Miss Bennet?”

“I thought at least I could get you to look at her, if only to conjecture if she had secretly stolen my heart - and then you might notice what a damnably fine young lady she is.”

“I have never questioned her beauty, though I have often wondered if you are indeed in possession of such thing as a heart.”

The colonel laughed. “You know the answer to that one. I lost it almost a year ago to my sweet Caroline.”

“So marry the chit already!”

“You know we are only waiting until her brother becomes settled - she cannot bear to leave him whilst he is unattached.”

Darcy's face twisted into a worried frown. “I do not know how long you will have to wait, then. His despondency grows with each passing day.”

“And I have to get you off my hands too,” the colonel added lightly.

“Then why pick a lady from a family set against fortunes? Well, not the mother, of course - a more avaricious harpy I have yet to meet - but Miss Jane and Miss Elizabeth have hearts of stone.”

`Ah - but when you crack stone that is indeed an achievement,' mused Colonel Fitzwilliam. He eyed his cousin with unabashed delight. He sensed that the great Darcy's hard heart was about to shatter into smithereens.

Chapter Twelve

Posted on Tuesday, 25 October 2005

Darcy walked through the lovely paths of the woodland park that surrounded his aunt's estate, but all the verdant greenery, twittering birds, and burgeoning spring flowers made no impression upon him. He was in the worst of moods. That morning he had received a letter from his dear friend Bingley, and the poor man sounded more dispirited than ever. He never mentioned it in so many words, but he was desperately lovelorn. He kept harking upon Hertfordshire and how he wished he could leave the increasingly complicated business matters that had taken him to London and return there. Though he would not put such behaviour beyond her sister, Darcy had never expected Miss Jane Bennet to be so cruel. Miss Bingley had not had so much as a note from her since the one in which the invitation was rejected - all her other letters had gone unanswered.

Footsteps disturbed Darcy from his reverie, and he looked up to see Mr Collins approaching him. He was relieved because his first thought upon hearing the sound was that it might be Miss Elizabeth Bennet who had disturbed many a solitary ramble of his. Each time politeness had compelled him to walk with her, but today it would have taken much more than politeness to endure her scornful company. Mr Collins, however, was a gentleman he held in some respect.

Mr Collins smiled sheepishly at Darcy. “I hope I have not disturbed you. I've been out picking bluebells for my darling wife. I do hope your aunt does not mind me denuding her fields of their flowers.”

“I don't believe she ever even comes this way so there is no need to worry. Are you going much further?”

“I was about to turn when I noticed you. Would you care to accompany me for a space?”

Darcy agreed and they walked towards the parsonage together.

“You are to leave Kent this Saturday, I understand,” said Mr Collins.

“I hope so - my cousin the colonel keeps extending our visit, but as the ball is over he has no excuses left.”

“A lively fellow with a flair for entertaining!”

“As a younger son he ought to be inured to self denial,” said Darcy with a smile, “but he has no such tendencies.”

“I wonder he does not marry.”

“He assures me he will once Bingley and I have done so.”

“Ah yes - your friend Bingley. I had hopes for him and my cousin Jane, but unfortunately Elizabeth was dead set against the match. For some reason she distrusts your friend - I cannot quite fathom it.”

“Miss Elizabeth takes prodigious care of her sister.”

“Oh yes. Jane follows her lead, no matter how ill advised it may be. I dare swear her heart was broken when Mr Bingley left Netherfield, but she did as Lizzy counselled and renounced him. She is in London now, staying with her Aunt and Uncle Gardiner, but so much occupied as to not go out in society at all.”

“In London all this time?”

“Indeed.”

“And Miss Elizabeth has mentioned nothing to me of the matter - afraid, no doubt, that I would send word to Bingley. I would call her interference officious.”

“I prefer to think it misguided,” said Collins. “But I thought you should know of it nonetheless. I expect you to do what you think best with this information - remember, love can surmount all odds.”

They had reached the parsonage gate by this time. Darcy excused himself from an invitation to come in and set off in deep reflection. What gave Miss Elizabeth Bennet the right to disdain his friend? To separate him from the girl he loved? Bingley was all goodness! His understanding excellent, his mind improved, his manners captivating, his coffers overflowing. The agitation this subject occasioned brought on anger that was barely within his control. She was to drink tea at Rosings that night and he swore he would manage a few minutes alone with her to confront her with all he now knew.

As they were getting ready to leave for Rosings, Charlotte looked over at Lizzy and recoiled in shock. “My dear, you are so very pale. Are you unwell?”

“Not at all.”

“Surely you must be ill. A pounding headache? Something of that sort?”

Lizzy caught her meaning. “Not till next week, Charlotte.”

“Well, at any event you look ghastly. I will not have you walking all the way to Rosings and enduring sipping tea in Lady Catherine's overheated drawing room. Why, you might faint away!”

Lizzy looked in the mirror and sighed. She was a trifle pale, to be sure, but that was only because she had been kept awake half the night by visions of Mr Darcy gazing into her eyes, and the feel of his hand upon hers as they had danced. She was turning into a lovesick fool and it truly annoyed her. Maybe it would be better to stay out of his company tonight, though she longed for it so much. It was unhealthy to yearn for something so far above her that she could never have it, and it was hypocritical too. He represented everything she held in contempt. Why did he have to be so intelligent? So slyly humorous? So exceedingly gorgeous?

“You are right, Charlotte,” she said resignedly. “I am not up to an evening in Lady Catherine's company. Please extend my regrets.”

“I will make sure that everyone, especially Mr Darcy, knows how deeply you shall miss them tonight,” said Charlotte with a wink.

When the party from the parsonage entered the drawing room at Rosings, Colonel Fitzwilliam made a great deal about the missing Miss Bennet.

“Poor, sweet young lady to be all on her own this evening when she could have been enjoying our society. But a headache in company is not to be suffered. She will be missed desperately tonight, by some more than by others - eh Darcy?”

Darcy inclined his head, but his sullen expression did not change. He had wanted to speak to her and now he could not. His annoyance knew no bounds - the last thing he needed were his cousin's paltry attempts at innuendo.

“She did right to stay home,” said Lady Catherine. “I would not have sickness brought to my dear Anne - she is so very susceptible.”

Anne did her best to look wan, but the robustness of her form and the rosy hue of her cheeks belied her attempts.

“Indeed!” cried the colonel. “And I cannot help but think that left on her own as she is she will recover with alacrity, and be wishing away her solitary state before the evening is out.”

“I do think she would be up to entertaining at least one visitor,” agreed Charlotte. “Maria begged to stay, but Lizzy would not deny her the pleasure of Rosings.”

“Your sister is a very good sort of girl,” said Lady Catherine.

Darcy decided that Colonel Fitzwilliam and Mrs Collins were looking too smug for their own good. It had been impossible to miss the emphasis they had put upon the fact that Miss Bennet was alone, and perhaps lonely. Well, he would allow them to think they had caught him in their snare.

“If you will excuse me, Aunt Catherine,” said Darcy. “I have a business matter of great import that I must deal with at once.”

“What could be pressing enough to take you away from us at this time of evening?” asked Lady Catherine in dismay. “Anne has been so looking forward to playing for you, and then completing that game of chess you two had begun yesterday.”

Anne simpered and preened.

Darcy thought of the chessboard with its unusually arranged pieces - another good reason to high tail it out of there. “It is a matter of the heart,” he said softly.

Anne giggled. Lady Catherine decided that he must be composing a proposal and made no further demur. The colonel gave Charlotte a significant wink. Mr Collins looked thoughtful. Maria sat with her hands primly in her lap and wished that Mr Dalton had also been invited to drink tea, and then resigned herself to a perfectly boring evening.

When Lizzy heard the doorbell ring her heart leapt in her chest. Charlotte's reasons for leaving her behind had not been lost upon her, but she could hardly credit that Mr Darcy had been brought up to scratch. However when he strode into the room with a very determined expression upon his face she was impelled to believe what she had heretofore thought impossible. Mr Darcy had come to propose!

He sat for a few moments and then got up and walked about the room. Lizzy waited in anticipation. After an unbroken silence he advanced towards her in utmost agitation and began, “In vain have I struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. One ought never stand in the way of true love!”

Lizzy could contain herself no longer. She jumped to her feet, threw her arms around his neck, and kissed him most fervently. His astonishment was beyond expression. If Lizzy had seen his face she might have held back what she was about to say, but she could not prevent the words from spilling forth as she leaned her head against his shoulder. The avowal of all she felt and had long felt stumbled out rather incoherently, and the subject of pride was not overborne by her more tender declarations.

“I know you have had to grapple with my inferiority just as I have had to come to terms with the degradation to all my principles that marriage to you will entail. The wealth, the self-importance of your family, the frivolous pursuits of the rich - these are all things that I swore I would never be drawn into. I have tried to fight my growing attachment and love for you, but in vain. I have gone against my very nature and fallen for you irrevocably - I love you beyond endurance and find myself willing to give up every decent principle I have ever upheld for the sake of being your wife. Just a look from your eyes makes me almost wanton in my desire to be close to you.”

Darcy stepped back in shock. Though he could not help but feel it was a compliment to be loved so very passionately and he was sorry for the pain and embarrassment she was about to receive, he was afraid that if anyone were to walk into the room they would immediately think he was compromising her and not the other way around. He had no desires to be forced into a marriage with someone he disliked as much as Miss Elizabeth Bennet.

“I am afraid there has been a misunderstanding,” he said hesitantly.

“A misunderstanding?” asked Lizzy, her face turning white.

“I did not come to propose, but to discuss another matter entirely.”

“Not propose? But you said . . .your feelings could not be repressed . . . one ought not stand in the way of true love . . . what is that if not a proposal? You were not offering me a carte blanche were you? I cannot believe it! I am a gentleman's daughter - I would never stoop so low as to become a mistress!” Lizzy blushed deeply as she recalled how she had thrown herself into his arms. “And don't let my behaviour right now lead you to think otherwise. Or what I said about wanton desire. I am a lady and can only be had through marriage! Oh - how did I ever allow myself to be carried away so foolishly as to expect anything more from someone of your ilk!”

Darcy stiffened at the insult, but persevered with his intent. “I was not referring to you and me when I mentioned love. I have never felt the slightest bit of regard for you. From the very first I was impressed by your disdain of my station in life. You mocked me as a pawn of society at every opportunity. And were it not for that I have other reasons for my deep-seated dislike. How can you defend yourself against your treatment of Wickham - ruining his future prospects with your lies?”

“You take an eager interest in that gentleman!” Lizzy almost spat out the words.

“How could I not upon hearing of his misfortunes?”

“His misfortunes! Was it he who led you to believe I could be convinced to become your courtesan?”

“I desire neither to bed you nor to wed you! He only let me see that you could heartlessly break a man of his spirit, and that it was merely a game to you. Why I came here tonight was to charge you with destroying the happiness of my best friend. Can you deny you have done it?”

“Destroy his happiness - that's a laugh! I do not deny that I separated Mr Bingley from my sister. She is such a sweet innocent she could not see that his intention was merely to use her and discard her like all you so-called gentlemen of the ton do. I am proud that I protected her from his advances, and I would do it again most readily if the situation ever arose.”

“And this is your opinion of the gentry? That we are debauchers of country maidens? Our faults are very great indeed - it is a wonder that you profess to love me when you hold me and my kind in such contempt.”

“It must be a blow to your pride to know what I have had to struggle against,” said Lizzy, only her anger keeping her from breaking down. “And I am not ashamed of my scruples - should I have flattered you and said that I was overtaken by unqualified, unalloyed inclination? To rejoice that I had allowed myself to be attracted by someone whose way of life was so alien to my own? Now I am only left to be ashamed of what my feelings were in light of your very evident dislike.”

“You are mistaken, Miss Bennet. You overestimate my pride - your struggles do not affect me in any way but to pity you in your predicament. I am sorry that you inadvertently professed your love to me. I do not want to cause you pain, but in light of your many prejudices I am confident it will be of short duration. I will only say one more thing in parting. I plan to tell Mr Bingley that your sister is in town. He loves her dearly and is completely lost without her. I have long believed her to be in love with him too. If you do not hold her happiness above your erroneous conjectures, be assured that I do.”

With that he strode from the room. Lizzy had a mad desire to shout after him to accept her best wishes for his health and happiness, but she crumpled to the ground, her mind in tumult. Had she really professed her love to him? Thrown herself upon him and kissed him in a depraved manner? How could she ever face him again? As she remembered the kiss she broke down into tears of grief.

When Charlotte got home it was very evident that her and the colonel's scheme had gone severely amiss.

Chapter Thirteen

Posted on Wednesday, 2 November 2005

When he awoke the next morning, Darcy could think of nothing else but the completely astounding occurrences of the evening before - not the least of which was the fervent kiss Miss Bennet had pressed upon his lips, and the feel of her body against his. The annoying truth was that the kiss overpowered his mind more than anything else. It was better than he had ever imagined a kiss could be.

He shook his head to clear it of the bewitching memory and tried to concentrate on the surprising revelation of Miss Bennet's love for him. He would never have expected it in a million years, the way she always looked upon him with such scorn and derided him with her spiteful tongue. He paused in contemplation, suddenly realising that she had not always been scathing and malicious. He had only expected her to be so, and had interpreted her every action that way. He who prided himself with his discernment. He almost felt a tinge of regret for his harsh words, and then he remembered Wickham's warnings. Miss Bennet was a manipulating minx, and she was attempting to use all her arts upon him - for what reason he was unsure - but probably to twist his heart about her finger and then discard it - after she had gained his fortune, of course.

Darcy jumped from his bed and dressed hurriedly, promising himself that he would not be affected by such contemptible machinations. When he arrived at the breakfast table only his cousin was in the room. The colonel eyed him quizzically.

“How went it last night?” He smirked at the less than exquisite appearance Darcy presented.

“I would rather not say.”

“Do not tell me she rejected you!” cried his cousin in mock alarm.

Darcy was goaded into saying what he had never intended his cousin to discover. “She accepted me all right, but I did not offer for her.” He had the pleasure, at least, of seeing Colonel Fitzwilliam dumbfounded for once.

“But . . .”

“Did you really think I would ask her to marry me? I'd as soon marry Anne.”

“But . . .”

“I admit that I behaved badly - I was so angry with her heartless interference regarding Bingley and her sister that I did not phrase my accusations quite clearly. She mistook them for an avowal of my love.”

The content of this statement and the expression of revulsion upon Darcy's face caused the colonel to explode into paroxysms of laughter. “You never were too eloquent when overset,” he finally managed to gasp out, “but that takes the cake.” He took his handkerchief from his breast pocket and wiped his streaming cheeks. “Does this mean I am to wish you joy?”

“After a rather embarrassing moment I managed to bring her to understand my true purpose in calling upon her. No banns need be proclaimed in church on Sunday.”

Colonel Fitzwilliam sobered. “Poor Miss Bennet.”

“Perhaps this will teach you to play matchmaker!” said Darcy and he left the room without having eaten a bite.

Lizzy was walking back and forth in a sort of a grove at the edge of Rosings Park, hoping that Mr Darcy would come her way. She had no desire to see him again - not after the severe mortification of having revealed herself to him - but she needed to get a letter into his hands, and she could trust nobody to deliver it for her.

After Charlotte had accompanied her to her bedchamber the night before, she had revealed just enough to let her friend know the sort of a disaster that had transpired. She had not told her about the kiss, though. That was just too scandalous to disclose. The memory of it caused her to shake all over, and that was not solely due to the humiliation she felt. There was also the memory of the feel of his lips upon hers, the strength of his body as she leaned against it, and the fragrance that was his and his alone.

When Charlotte finally left her to her solitary reflections, she realised that even though she would never have a hope of winning Mr Darcy's affections, she could not bear the thought of him thinking so ill of her. She had no idea what terrible lies Mr Wickham had told him about her but she resolved to divulge the truth of their interactions to Mr Darcy. After what she had already made known of her feelings and the reckless kiss, her character needed to be reclaimed. Besides, if there was anyone who required his reputation blackened it was Wickham. She wrote into the night, blushing and blushing again at the words that came from her pen. What Mr Darcy might think when he read them caused her to redden all the more.

Lizzy had been in the grove for what seemed like an eternity when she finally spied Mr Darcy rounding a bend in the pathway ahead of her. He stopped abruptly and would have retreated but she called his name, and then waited for him to approach with her eyes downcast.

“Miss Bennet,” he said stiffly.

She held out her hand with the folded papers in it. She could not speak. Her eyes rested upon his muddied Hessians and all she had the power to think was that his valet would be very upset at their state. He took the paper from her hand, paused by her side another moment, and then wished her good day and left her with only the hint of his scent still lingering in the morning air beside her. She held her handkerchief up to her face and trudged back to Hunsford careless of any puddles. When she returned her kid boots were just as splattered as his Hessians had been.

“Why Lizzy!” gasped Maria when she saw her. “I swear your petticoats are a full six inches deep in mud. What have you been about? Oh, never mind! Do make haste and change - Mr Dalton will be arriving at any moment. You shouldn't like him to see you in that state.”

“I shouldn't like him to see me at all,” said Lizzy, brushing past her hurriedly and hiding her face. “Pray make my excuses to him.”

Maria looked after her as she climbed the stair and shook her head in confusion. Then she realised that standing in the open doorway would make her appear a little too eager and rushed back to the parlour. She had just settled into a chair and arranged her skirts prettily when Mr Dalton was announced, so she had no time to apprise Charlotte of Lizzy's unusual behaviour. In short order his attentions made her forget it completely.

Darcy walked away from Miss Bennet in confusion. It had been a most unsettling encounter. He could have sworn she was the last person in the world that he had wanted to see, and yet he wished that she had said something rather than just look at his boots in deep disapproval. She had certainly been composed for a lady who had suffered such a severe rejection as he had handed her. He wondered what the note could contain and hoped it was not another insincere declaration of her love. That he could do without!

As he walked along he unfolded the sheets of paper. They were quite wrinkled and her penmanship left a lot to be desired. There were so many blotches he was sure she must have written the whole without mending her pen once. The two sheets were crossed with writing. He pondered what she could possibly have written that would demand so much space and hoped it was not a long and caustic diatribe against him. He decided that if it were he would not deign to read it. She had not dated it, but started boldly:

Be not alarmed, Sir, on receiving this letter, by the apprehension of it containing any repetition of those sentiments which last night were so disgusting to you. In fact I would like to take this opportunity to revoke everything that I said regarding any tender feelings I may have expressed, and especially repeal any actions that might be considered unseemly. Think of them as having never happened. I assure you that I do. In fact I would find the prospect of kissing you positively indecent so I am quite certain it could not have taken place. I am assured that you must feel the same.

The purpose of this letter is twofold. I would like to explain my position regarding my sister and Mr Bingley in a light that you may comprehend, and also to clear my character of whatever slander Mr Wickham importuned you with to discredit it. The former relies upon what I have to divulge about the latter.

As Mr Wickham no doubt has told you, his father was a knight who lost his money through dissipation and vice in your hallowed London society. This ruination at the hands of the dissolute rich ultimately led to his death. He had been a man of worth and honour before he was led astray. When Mr Wickham came to live in our home I was but a child, fully innocent and naďve and most ready to listen to accounts of the hardships he had suffered. To me he was as a wounded angel who had been denied his heaven upon earth and I worshipped him. I would have given anything to spare him any more hurt, and as it happened I was called upon time and time again to do just that. Whenever he had got himself into a scrape I protected him, stood up for him, took his blame. The years went by and my faith in him did not falter, though I ought to have seen through him. Some of the things I hid from my parents were most vile, but he always had me believe that all accusations against him were false. The world, it seemed, was set to conspire against him for the misdeeds of his father.

I grew to believe that I loved him. In my eyes he was all that was good and honourable, and any aberrations were due only to the torments that he suffered at the hand of others. He was not culpable. I would have lied for him. Stolen for him. Died for him. And then one day everything changed.

A little over four years ago Mr Wickham returned from a long absence. He had finished his studies and was to be made my father's steward. He was more dashing and handsome than I had ever remembered. He looked so much the gentleman that I could not imagine him as a mere steward, and as it turned out he had no desire to become one. Instead he hoped to be adopted by my father as his own son and inherit Longbourn. I helped him to persuade my father and then Uncle Phillips was called to draw the papers up. The day before the papers were to be signed, while going down the servants' staircase upon an errand, I came across Mr Wickham and one of the housemaids in a most compromising situation. Neither was properly dressed and I am sure that you will forgive me for not giving you any more details of the shocking scene I beheld. I cried out and ran from the house. I ran deep into my father's fields to a coppice by the brook. Mr Wickham followed me.

By the time I reached the water I had come to the realisation that I had been deceived for years as to the man's true nature. And worst of all I had helped him hide it from my father and all our friends and neighbours. I saw now that Mr Wickham was completely unworthy my family's trust. He had come amongst us only to take what he could get and had never been motivated by any of the finer feelings, including love. I had never felt myself such a complete fool in my life - to have been taken in so utterly and for so many years. I cried bitterly over my shattered illusions, my ruined innocence. I vowed that I would never again love a man who exhibited the charms and social graces that Mr Wickham did, or belonged to that society that had destroyed the commendable father and created the dastardly son.

Mr Wickham came upon me soon after that. He had not even bothered to button his shirt, which was loose about his waist. I could hardly face him - not only for what he had done, but also due to his state of undress, which disturbed me greatly. At that moment I knew fear.

He was all soft words and sweet smiles. He told me the maid, Sarah, had tricked him into coming to her room, and then she had thrown herself upon him and torn open his clothes. I laughed in his face. He then grabbed my arm and said that I of all people should understand his needs. That I should know why he had fallen so low. He was desperate, he said. I was to become his sister and I was lost to him forever as a lover or a wife. He had to find consolation where he may - he was a man, after all.

These revelations appalled me even more than having seen him in that flagrant embrace with the maid. In my disgust I told him that he would never be brother to me if I had the power to prevent it. I tried to shake his hand off my arm, but he is much stronger than I. He pulled me roughly to him and said that he would have me after all - that I was only jealous of Sarah and that I wanted him just as much as he wanted me. He attempted to kiss me and I kicked him in the shin, and suddenly he crumpled to the ground.

My friend Charlotte had come up behind him and struck him in the head with a sturdy branch. She took me back to my room and as she soothed and comforted me I swore her to secrecy. I could not bear to tell my father how I had almost been compromised and all that I had done in the past to hide Mr Wickham's faults from him. The shame was too great. I did, however, do my best to convince my father not to adopt Mr Wickham as a son. Sarah had confessed to Cook about having relations with Mr Wickham and was let go. My father, in an effort to hide that affair from the general knowledge of the neighbourhood, offered Mr Wickham a position as clerk with my uncle, but would no longer have him in the house. You know what happened after that - Mr Wickham left town and was not heard from again until he joined the militia.

If you doubt my word as to the veracity of this statement you may apply to Mrs Collins who is the only person other than Mr Wickham and myself, and now you, who knows all the particulars.

You might now be able to understand why I distrusted Mr Bingley's attentions towards my sister. All I knew of gentlemen from London society was the lesson Mr Wickham taught me - it was a lesson that I took to heart most fervently and with good reason. If I have been wrong in this, and your friend does indeed love my sister and has honourable intentions towards her, I sincerely apologise.

I will only add, God bless you.

Elizabeth Bennet

Chapter Fourteen

Posted on Tuesday, 8 November 2005

Darcy read the letter at first with amazement at Miss Bennet's audacity in thinking that with a few short words she could remove the stain of her aberrant behaviour of the night before. To say that the prospect if kissing him was indecent! To be sure, her forwardness was offensive but the idea of such a kiss must surely have been otherwise. It was almost as if he could still feel her lips upon his and the thought of it was not so much licentious as tantalising. It was impossible for him to feel as though it had not taken place and he wondered how she could wipe the act from her mind in such a manner.

Her contention that he was unable to comprehend her attitude towards Mr Bingley, and the reasons why she separated his friend from his sister, and that an explanation from her would miraculously make it all clear, was laughable. Did she think him deficient? His powers of reasoning were most acute and her prejudices painfully obvious. He was on the point of crushing the letter into a ball and throwing it into the nearest bush when his sense of justice stayed his hand. He certainly had no wish to read her petty excuses and faulty reasonings, but she had written the letter in a fit of distress which he was partially responsible for and it behoved him to hear her out. If he had expressed himself better at the outset she would never have been placed in such an embarrassing predicament.

Besides, he grudgingly had to admit himself intrigued. What had any of this to do with Mr Wickham? How could her history with him, and the way she had destroyed his prospects, legitimize her treatment of Bingley?

But as he read on, Darcy began to have serious doubts about the veracity of Wickham's word. The relation of events bore an alarming affinity to Wickham's own account of his dealings with the Bennet family, but exposed Wickham's character in a much different light. Astonishment, apprehension, and even horror oppressed him. He could not help but cry, “This must be the grossest falsehood,” but he knew that what really angered him was how easily he had been taken in by a mere charlatan. He grew absolutely ashamed of himself. He could think of neither Miss Bennet nor Wickham without having it clearly brought home to him that he had been nothing short of blind, partial, prejudiced and absurd. What a blow to his vanity!

He wandered along the lane for two hours, reconsidering events and determining responsibilities. That she had loved him despite her now understandable aversion to anyone of his class! That he had thrown aside her declarations with such disdain and bitterness of spirit! How unfeeling and cruel he had been. When she deserved his compassion he had treated her with contempt. How she must despise him now!

He wanted to be able to lay the blame at someone else's door. Caroline Bingley, for thrusting the girl upon him, George Wickham for ingratiating himself so successfully, Colonel Fitzwilliam for being so blatant as to set him completely against Miss Bennet just to be contrary. But most annoyingly, the truth was that the fault lay with him and him alone. He had taken great pride in the fact that though he and Miss Bennet had been thrown together so much of late he had withstood her many charms. But he had obviously not made his indifference clear enough to her. There must certainly have been something amiss with his behaviour.

Though this debacle had not instantly rendered him open to falling headlong in love with Miss Bennet, he had to admit that now he had a much better understanding of the extent of her attractions. One did not forget words of ardent love that easily. Especially when they were followed by such obvious signs of her affection. But the worst thing was that he had dashed her hopes and wounded her heart. It wasn't his nature to encourage false hopes in any lady and he didn't know now how to proceed once the damage was done. What could he possibly do to atone? And, more importantly, how could he ever face her?

Colonel Fitzwilliam dragged Darcy with him to the parsonage to say their adieus.

“How many times do I have to apologise for my interference?” asked the colonel. “It was well meant. Now I suppose you will settle for Anne.”

Darcy cringed at the thought. “Never. I will become a Benedictine monk first.”

Colonel Fitzwilliam grinned. “I'm afraid you are not far off that already. Twenty-eight and never been kissed!”

Darcy flushed to the roots of his hair and attempted to hide his florid complexion from his cousin by affecting interest in the ground at his feet. He knelt down and pulled a few pebbles from the dirt mumbling something about important geological specimens.

The colonel couldn't be fooled that easily. “Why Darcy! I do believe you have been kissed! When did this event take place? Tell me all the particulars - you know that I have never kept any of my exploits from you.”

“Much to my disgust! Your bragging is worse than your constant bonhomie. I wonder how I ever put up with you.”

“Very well, if you refuse to tell me, I shall guess. I know it was not Caroline - she reserves such favours for me, and has assured me that I was her first.”

Darcy just rolled his eyes. For all the colonel's talk he knew that Miss Bingley had been his cousin's first too. First and only - but that still hadn't spared him from repeated lovesick recountings of the event.

“I would swear it was not Anne, nor Miss Lucas - so that leaves only Miss Bennet and Mrs Collins. You have not been philandering with a married lady, have you?” The twinkle in Colonel Fitzwilliam's eyes was much too bright, and though he fully expected Darcy to be annoyed with his teasing, he was not ready for the vehemence of his response.

“Just because I am a member of high society does not mean that I ascribe to any of the depraved behaviour that is in vogue with a certain set. I am a gentleman and have always comported myself as such! I will not have you slander my character in this way, nor cast aspersions on the behaviour of any of the ladies of our acquaintance. They are all of them nothing but what is good and virtuous!”

“Even Miss Bennet?” asked the colonel, acting on a hunch.

“Especially Miss Bennet,” cried Darcy and then he could have kicked himself because he realised he had just given all away.

Colonel Fitzwilliam smirked, but he sensibly forbore to pry anymore. He had received his answer, and though he did not completely understand how, in rejecting the girl, his cousin had managed to kiss her, he had to admire Darcy for his impudence. “Come then, I think you can still face her with impunity,” he said as he opened the parsonage gate. As Darcy hung back he added with frustration, “It is a matter of civility. Swallow your pride. I am certain she has had to swallow hers.”

And when they entered the parsonage they found that was indeed the case, but in swallowing her pride Miss Elizabeth seemed to have choked and was lying upstairs abed, indisposed. The rest of the company was seated in the parlour and rose upon their entrance. Darcy was certain that behind Mrs Collins' polite exchange she was harbouring animosity towards him, and that Mr Collins was eyeing him with disapproval. It was a great relief when Mr Dalton arrived. His added presence removed the necessity of Darcy attempting to make conversation at all.

With the gentlemen gone from Kent, Lady Catherine sought to relieve her boredom by inviting the entire parsonage party to dine with her and Anne.

“I am most displeased,” said that great lady to Lizzy after dinner, as they were sitting down to cards in the drawing room. “I put considerable effort into finding you a beaux, and yet you did not take at all. Miss Lucas is being courted and well on her way to matrimony but you have been an utter disappointment. I do so pity your poor mama.”

Anne tittered and said, “You have never had to suffer in such a way, Mama dearest!”

Lady Catherine smiled gratefully at her daughter. “No indeed, my dear. Mr Darcy appears to be more in love with you than ever. He felt leaving Rosings most acutely! No one could ever say that you have not been dutiful.”

Anne patted her hair and smoothed her skirts. “I fear Miss Bennet's problem has been that she set her sights too high.”

Lizzy felt all the colour drain from her face. Had Mr Darcy laughed with his relations about her behind her back? She had never thought him so cruel, so underhanded. Oh, how she wished she had shown more restraint!

Anne sat complacently, playing with her curls, her big, brown eyes willing Lizzy to give herself away.

“Indeed, as I said before, I have no wish to marry anyone,” she answered coldly.

Lady Catherine nodded at her daughter and then turned to Lizzy. “I had warned you that my nephews were not to be considered, but you insisted on throwing your cap at Colonel Fitzwilliam nonetheless. It was truly absurd but most amusing to watch!”

“Yes!” said Anne, looking more animated than Lizzy had ever seen her. “When you wore the paste emeralds to the ball to try and attract him I was almost in whoops of laughter.”

“There is no sense in your staying in Kent any longer,” Lady Catherine said, eyeing Lizzy with no small amount of ridicule. “You have disgusted all the gentlemen in these parts with your disdain. I suggest you leave at the soonest opportunity and try your luck in London. Surely your relatives in Cheapside should be an advantage in securing your place in society.”

Anne giggled so hard she began to hiccup. Lizzy couldn't care less about their insults and insinuations. She only felt a surge of relief that Mr Darcy had not told them of her terrible faux pas.

“If you cannot make arrangements to leave earlier than planned, I can send you myself in my Barouche.” Lady Catherine's condescension knew no bounds.

Mr Collins, who had missed most of the discussion whilst in close conversation with Anne's companion, was suddenly nudged by his wife. His expression darkened as Charlotte whispered in his ear. He stood and addressed Lady Catherine with great dignity. “Cousin Elizabeth is welcome to stay at Hunsford as long as she likes, and when she returns to her family, I will take it upon myself to provide her with transportation.”

Lady Catherine's eyes goggled out from her head and she began sputtering.

“It has been a pleasant evening,” continued Mr Collins while Lady Catherine sought to compose herself. “But you have delighted us long enough. We must be returning to the parsonage now before we lack the light to find our way home.”

“But we have not yet finished our game of cards!” cried Lady Catherine. “And Anne still has a minuet to perform. Stay - I can order the carriage later.”

But Mr Collins would not be swayed. Their goodnights were quickly said and soon they were on their way, walking briskly down the moonlit drive.

“I must apologise Lizzy,” said Mr Collins. “Lady Catherine has no right to patronize you in that manner.”

“It is of no account, Cousin,” said Lizzy. “I care about her good opinion even less than she cares about mine.” Her words were brave but her spirit was totally dejected. She had indeed set her sights to heights she had never intended nor imagined, and the fall had been very humbling indeed.

“Dearest Lizzy,” said Charlotte, at a complete loss for words. She still felt it deeply that she had been caught up in the colonel's schemes and had encouraged Lizzy to such unwise aspirations. It was not that she no longer thought Lizzy worthy of Mr Darcy's hand - quite the contrary. She now wondered how she had ever thought the moron good enough for her Lizzy. How dared he hurt her in such a way? Had he no concept of letting a girl down gently?

Lizzy and Maria stayed out their last week at Hunsford according to plan and did not return to Rosings again, which did not bother them in the least. Lizzy and Charlotte spent most of their time together in girlish pursuits and did not once mention Mr Darcy, or any other gentleman for that matter, aside from Mr Dalton.

Chapter Fifteen

Posted on Tuesday, 15 November 2005

When Darcy returned to London he visited Bingley at his earliest opportunity. The sight of his friend's woebegone face caused all his animosity towards Miss Bennet to resurge. Miss Bingley took him aside before he had done more than greet his friend.

“I hear you made a rare bumble broth of it in Kent.”

Darcy had been expecting this. “That was your beloved's doing, not mine.”

“You would have done well to accept Miss Elizabeth,” said Caroline. “She is really much too good for you.”

“I don't understand how you can say that when the evidence of how her machinations have cut up your brother's happiness are before you every day.”

Caroline sighed. “We must have misread Miss Bennet's interest in us.”

“I have it on good authority that Miss Jane Bennet is just as distraught about the whole affair as Bingley.”

“She is?” Caroline's expression changed from glum to eager. “Then Charles and I should hasten to Hertfordshire!”

“She has been in London these few months.” Caroline was about to rush over to tell her brother the good news when Darcy forestalled her. “Give me leave to tell him myself. Alone.”

Caroline hesitated, but Darcy pushed her from the room. She did not leave without a struggle.

Bingley was roused from his reverie by the slamming of the door and turning of the key. “Was I just dreaming or were you Greco-Roman wrestling with my sister?”

“She deserved it,” said Darcy, straightening his neck cloth and taking a chair opposite his friend. “She loves to meddle and her meddling only causes problems.”

Bingley sighed and looked into the fire. “How was Kent?” he asked without any real interest.

“Kent was as it always is. My aunt trying to bend the world to her will. Anne casting me amorous glances that only serve to make me nauseous. But it may interest you to hear that Miss Elizabeth Bennet was visiting in the neighbourhood with her cousin the parson, and his new wife.”

Bingley's head shot up. “New wife! Please tell me it is not . . .” he was incapable of uttering another word.

Darcy took one look at his pathetic countenance and exploded. “No! He did not marry your angel, you great galoot. He married Miss Lucas. Jane Bennet is still free and as in love with you as ever, though why you deserve her love I have no idea - all you do is moon about like a lost puppy rather than do something about it! Do you think you are the only person with problems? Let me tell you about problems! Mr Collins was so good as to inform me that Miss Bennet is here in town and that her sister Elizabeth made sure to keep it a secret from any of us. I, in your behalf, took it upon myself to chastise Miss Elizabeth for her cruel scheming.”

“In London!” It was all Bingley seemed to have grasped.

“Yes! But fool that I am, and fool that she is too I must add, my manner of accosting Miss Elizabeth led her to suppose I meant to propose and she threw herself against me and kissed me.” It felt good to have said it - that might help purge it from his mind. But his next words proved otherwise. “Unabashedly. Flagrantly. Ardently.” He stopped and turned red as he wondered how depraved Bingley would think him.

“Miss Bennet kissed me too,” he whispered, his face reflecting the memory of the event.

“She kissed you too? Is she then so devoid of restraint? Of proper feeling?”

Bingley looked up at him in shock and Darcy quickly perceived his error. “It was Miss Jane Bennet who kissed you.”

“Of course! Though I did have to fend off Miss Lydia one afternoon in the lane.” He sighed. “Delightful family.”

Darcy saw his point - they did seem to distribute their kisses most freely. Before Bingley slipped further into the trance the recollection of Miss Bennet's kiss had brought about, Darcy took him by the shoulders and shook him to his senses. “You must visit her at once! She is staying with an aunt and uncle upon the fringes of society in Gracechurch Street.”

“But . . . will she want to see me?”

“Did I not just say she is in love with you? Besides - she kissed you. Did you think she would have kissed you otherwise?”

“Well,” said Bingley blushing brightly, “it was actually my forehead she kissed. I had knocked it upon a hanging lantern and she wanted to make it all better.”

Darcy threw up his hands in disgust. If this was Bingley's reaction to a kiss on the forehead, would one on his lips turn him into a quivering mass of aspic?

Elizabeth and Maria departed Hunsford. The journey was singularly uneventful and in four hours they were deposited at the Gardiner home where they were to remain a few days. Jane was looking worn to a frazzle from having to cater to the needs of the four boisterous children day in and day out. Mrs Gardiner wished that Lizzy would stay with them to take Jane's place but the most she could get her to agree to was a trip with them to the lakes later on in the summer.

The following morning at breakfast time, Mrs Gardiner finally managed a few moments alone with Elizabeth.

“So, you will be taking our dear sweet poppet away from us. Oh! I will miss her so!” She dabbed at the corners of her dry eyes affectedly. “And before I have managed to marry her off too. We have had some very eligible prospects, and she, poor dear, did her best to attach them but it was painfully obvious that her heart was not in it. I do have hopes for Mr Enderby, though. He is a valiant trooper - ignoring her bouts of tears and resolutely staying by her side. If only she had more of a dowry I swear he would have popped the question two weeks ago. His first wife died in childbirth so he is in desperate need of a wife to be mother to his growing brood. And I have assured him that Jane is a wonder with children and very good at managing a budget, though I did stretch the truth on that assertion, to be sure. Jane would be likely to pay thruppence for candles not worth half a farthing. He was quite taken with the idea, though - so my little lie was to good advantage.” She smiled brilliantly at Lizzy, bursting with pride at her accomplishment.

Lizzy was aghast. “You cannot mean Jane to marry such a man! He would make her an unpaid servant in his household.”

“Marriage has its price my dear. Is it not a fair trade for the right to be called Mrs and not to be despised as a spinster, shunted from one family member to another without any means of support?”

“But Jane is so beautiful and good - she has no fear of that. She will marry well.”

“Lizzy - you must face the annoying truth of the matter. Jane is twenty-two - that is practically on the shelf. And she is in a serious decline. Her cheeks have lost their bloom - her looks are fast fading. She will be lucky to be married to a respectable clerk like Mr Enderby. Besides - is this not precisely what you asked of us?” Her rouged lips protruded in an exaggerated pout. “I expected you to be grateful for all your uncle and I have done on Jane's behalf. It has been a very exhausting endeavour, I will have you know!”

“I have reconsidered since then,” said Lizzy hurriedly before real tears would start flowing down her aunt's plump cheeks. “I now believe that Mr Bingley was truly in love with Jane and not out to besmirch her honour.”

“What? You cannot mean that! Why, only three days ago I sent the rapscallion and his snooty sister packing when they deigned to attempt to visit Jane.”

“You did what? Just over a week ago I was informed by Mr Darcy that his friend has been pining away for love of my sister.”

“I told them Jane was not at home to them and that they would do well to look elsewhere for their entertainment. What have I done? The gentleman has five thousand a year! His sister is one of the most admired hostesses in town! I could finally have had my feet upon the first rungs of high society - my future success would have been ensured. I lay it all at your door, Lizzy. You were the one that led me astray with wild talk of seduction and dissipation. I ought never to have listened!”

Mrs Gardiner's laments did not end there, but Lizzy no longer heard them. All she could think was that she had certainly destroyed the happiness of her most beloved sister. After such a dismissal there was no way that Mr Bingley would ever consider Jane again.

It was the second week in May when the three young ladies left London and met up with Lydia and Kitty at an inn in a small town in Hertfordshire.

“Oh la!” cried Lydia as she dragged them all into a private parlour. “We have such a treat in store for you.”

Upon the table was such an array of food as left Lizzy speechless. Not only was there the expected salad and cucumber, dressed as only her sisters knew how, but also a cold collation and sweetmeats.

“We went down to that shop across the way before you arrived and Kitty almost spent all our money on the most hideous bonnet I have ever laid eyes upon. If I had not prevented her we should have only ordered half so much food, and you would have had to lend us the money to pay for it!”

“The bonnet was not hideous,” said Kitty. “You have two or three much uglier at home.”

“What does it signify?” asked Lydia as she stuffed roast beef into her mouth. “The militia will have left Meryton in a fortnight.”

“Speaking of the militia,” said Kitty, “We have the most delicious news about a certain person.”

“Sshh! Not before the waiter,” said Lydia in a loud whisper, then she stared at the man most significantly. When he had gone she giggled. “What a handsome fellow he is, and most helpful too.”

Kitty nodded her head. “Pity he is only a waiter, though flirting with him was rather fun.”

Lizzy cast her eyes up to the heavens. What had she ever done to deserve two such brazen sisters. “You were about to speak of news?”

“It is about Wickham,” cried Lydia triumphantly. “There is no danger of him marrying Miss King.”

Lizzy cringed at the mention of his name. “The danger was all hers.”

“Oh yes!” said Kitty. “That is why is so diverting that she eloped with Sanderson right under Wickham's nose. And now he is trying to charm his way back into our good graces after giving us the snub royale for the past few months.”

“He has face and figure to rival the gods,” said Lydia, “but if he thinks we will come running because he has snapped his fingers he can think again. Kitty and I may be accomplished flirts, but we do have our pride.”

Kitty tossed her head in agreement. “We would never stoop to take the leavings of one such as Mary King, nasty little freckled thing!”

Upon arriving home Lizzy discovered that her mother and sisters were beleaguering their father to take them to Brighton. Even Mary seemed to be set upon the plan.

“I had not thought the officers meant so much to you that you would desire to follow them shamelessly about,” said Lizzy.

Mary blushed. “It is not for the officer's sakes that I wish to go to Brighton,” she replied primly. “There is a very acclaimed lending library with the foremost collection of Gothic literature in the country.”

It did not take long for Lizzy to realise that a sojourn in Brighten was just exactly what her family needed, and she lost no time in persuading her father of that very fact.

“Consider father, Lydia will never be easy until she has exposed herself in some public place or other, and to do it with your eye upon her is better than if she were under the supervision of someone as devoid of sense as herself, like her friend Mrs Forster.”

“Do you not think she has had enough scope for that in Meryton?” Her father's left eyebrow raised a fraction of an inch.

“Here she has barely any competition. There she will realise that her type of charm is all too readily available and she may learn more subtlety in her approach.”

Mr Bennet could not help but agree - still he was not completely convinced until Lizzy detailed how a little sea bathing would set him up, and most importantly, how the sea air would be beneficial to Jane's lack of bloom. The fear of her lovely daughter going into a decline clutched at his wife's heart, and he was not immune to the feeling himself.

I was not until the first week of July that the family made their boisterous way to Brighton, almost a month after the militia had stationed itself there most comfortably. Lydia and Kity would have been distraught at the wait were it not for the fact that they had been chosen bridesmaids by Maria Lucas.

In late June Mr Dalton and Maria were married from the old stone church in Meryton. Mrs Bennet bewailed the fact that Lady Lucas had married two daughters off before she had a chance to get rid of any. Lady Lucas smirked condescendingly as she described all the jewels and carriages her daughter would receive when Mr Dalton succeeded his father as squire.

Chapter Sixteen

Posted on Friday, 25 November 2005

Mr Bennet had leased a lovely summer cottage that looked out over the water. He had been lucky to get it for the full two months of July and August for accommodation was at a premium, given the amount of families with hopeful daughters who had followed the sun and the redcoats to this seaside locale. It was a tight squeeze for the boisterous Bennet family, used to the roominess of Longbourn, but it became even more cramped with the arrival of the Gardiners. It is true that Mr and Mrs Gardiner were taking Lizzy away with them, but in her place they were leaving their four young scallywags with admonitions to Kitty and Lydia to make sure the children did not drown themselves.

Kitty and Lydia only looked at each other and giggled. They had no intention whatsoever of going near the beach in the company of their cousins.

“Oh la!” said Lydia. “I am sure that between Jane and Mary they will be as safe as houses.”

Mr Bennet, on the other hand, was more apprehensive for the safety of the houses rather than that of the children. In his opinion the best thing for it would be to let them loose upon the town and forget their very existence. Unfortunately he realised it was not an option, so he took the youngest upon his lap and allowed her to pull his whiskers as the next eldest ran off with his pipe.

“You do not mean to leave them with us for the entire summer?” he asked in such despairing accents that he reminded himself of his dear wife. He feared that he would soon develop an addiction to hartshorn and sal volatile.

“Oh goodness no!” cried Mr Gardiner, mopping his wide brow with his handkerchief. “Lord it is hot in here!” He took a deep draught from his tankard of ale and then continued. “No indeed - we are unable to travel as far as the lakes - I only have three weeks at my disposal. Instead we mean to take our dearest Lizzy with us to Derbyshire.”

Mrs Gardiner fanned herself and smiled fetchingly at Lizzy. “Yes indeed! I have the greatest desire to visit the village of Lambton where I grew up and see all my dear old friends again. And I understand you have some friends in the neighbourhood too.”

“Me?” asked Lizzy, attempting to stop her cousin Jeremy from stuffing all the cakes from the tea tray into his mouth in one go. “I have never visited Lambton in my life.”

Mrs Gardiner only smiled all the more and winked at her as if they shared some secret joke.

If Lizzy had bothered to study the geography of the area more closely, she would have understood her aunt's insinuations and attempted to cry off. As it was she felt she could enter the county of Derbyshire with impunity. Just because a certain gentleman had an estate there did not mean she should accidentally run into him. After all there were many gentlemen in Hertfordshire she had never set eyes upon and she had lived there all her life.

It wasn't till they were well on their way and there was no turning back that Lizzy discovered the annoying truth. Lambton was not five miles from Pemberley, Mr Darcy's estate, and her aunt and uncle had every intention of going there for a tour.

“You must know that all the great homes are open for viewing,” said Mrs Gardiner. “It is our plan that while we are there you shall introduce us to Mr Darcy, for I know that you were much in his company when you were in Kent. And once properly introduced we shall use the acquaintance to our advantage to improve our standing in the highest circles of the ton!” She beamed with pleasure.

“Is it not a good plan?” cried Mr Gardiner. “My wife is truly a genius. When she put the idea to me I said, `Bless my soul but that is marvellous!' I knew we would one day benefit from all the kindnesses we have shown to our nieces, especially you, Lizzy, for you have always been a favourite.”

“But . . .” sputtered Lizzy. “I could not possibly. It is not right at all for me to try and trade off such a slight acquaintance as I have with Mr Darcy. Please do not ask it of me.”

“Tut tut, Lizzy. After all we have done for you how could you be so ungracious as to dream of denying us this one trifling thing? Have we not brought you with us on this fine trip at no expense to you or your father when we could easily have brought one of your sisters?” Mr Gardiner shook his head in deep displeasure.

Mrs Gardiner's face crumpled and tears split down her rouged cheeks. “I had thought you were brought up to be more grateful and mannerly,” she sobbed. “It is all your father's doing to be sure. He is such a sarcastic, mean spirited fellow.”

“And he hoodwinked my sister before she married him too,” said Mr Gardiner. “Not once did he mention the entail till after the knot was tied. And now - to be treated with such lack of feeling by his daughter! We ought indeed to have brought Jane, my dear. She is such an angel, she would never have played us such a backhanded turn!”

“Jane is all that is good and compliant. I have often warned sister about Lizzy's wilful nature, but I had never thought to feel its sting. Have I not been a good aunt?”

“You have indeed, my dumpling, you have indeed. You do not deserve this in the least.” Mr Gardiner placed an arm about his wife's ample shoulder in a show of comfort and gave Lizzy a hard stare. “See what you have done with your callous behaviour. She is utterly devastated and all because you put your pride before everything else.”

“It is not my pride, Uncle,” said Lizzy, though she knew that a great deal of pride was involved. “I just do not see that my introduction can be any help to you at all. I have never been upon good terms with the gentleman.”

“Nor have you been upon good terms with any gentleman, ever. We quite despair of you. Your fastidious tastes know no bounds. Not even one as illustrious as the Prince Regent would do for you, Princess Lizzy!”

Lizzy thought of the Prince Regent, so corpulent, the stays of his corsets creaking with every move, and felt her uncle's statement to be warranted. But there was someone who she knew would do for her admirably. But she had destroyed any chance she could possibly have had with him, though she owned she never had a chance at all. And now, to add to the mortification she had already put herself through at Mr Darcy's expense, her relations were expecting her to debase herself even further.

She knew she would have no peace until she acquiesced. Her aunt and uncle were always relentless, whatever their undertaking.

“Fine,” she said, grudgingly. “I will introduce you if we meet Mr Darcy, but do not blame me if it gets you nowhere.”

“Dearest heart!” exclaimed her aunt. “Whatever do you mean by that? Blame you? It is not in our nature to be resentful. Heavens! Wherever do you get such ideas?”

“Lizzy my darling!” said her uncle, his face wreathed in smiles. “I delight in your wit! What a joke you played on us, to be sure. And we both fell for it hook, line, and sinker. Though I never doubted for a minute that you were bamming us, for I knew you were much too good-natured to deny us anything! And as for Mr Darcy - do not worry at all, my dear. Just introduce us and we shall do the rest. My wife and I know full well how to ingratiate ourselves with men of the ton such as he. A lesson you could do well to follow. Watch and learn, Lizzy. Watch and learn.”

Lizzy leaned back against the squabs of their travelling carriage. A headache was coming on. They could not arrive at Lambton soon enough even though she could take no pleasure from what the visit held in store for her.

Much later, as Lizzy went up to her bedchamber at the inn, she asked the chambermaid in a roundabout way if the Darcy family were at Pemberley for the summer. She was pleased when the girl responded with a negative. Her apprehension of the morrow thus reduced, she managed to spend the night in undisturbed slumber.

Lizzy found her uneasiness grow, however, as their carriage entered the Pemberley woods. The park was extensive, and they drove along as the road rose in a gentle curve until, at last, they were awarded with a view of Pemberley. Lizzy was amazed to see that it was a handsome establishment, tastefully situated in a most natural landscape, with none of the flamboyant ostentation that exemplified Rosings.

“I had expected more,” said Mr Gardiner. “It is all so plain.”

“Not one Greek folly!” sighed Mrs Gardiner. “Let us hope the interior is more prepossessing. Baroque detailing and ceilings painted with cherubs! That is what I call the height of elegance.”

Lizzy's could not help but feel that to be mistress of Pemberley might be something. And then she shuddered when she remembered accusing Mr Darcy of asking her to be his mistress. It was lowering to think that he had desired her to be neither and had told her so in no uncertain terms. Regret filled her as they descended the hill and crossed the bridge. It overwhelmed any apprehension that still lingered as they entered the great hall and awaited the housekeeper.

Upon meeting Mrs Reynolds, Mr Gardiner immediately asked her if the master was at home.

“My niece is most particularly acquainted with Mr Darcy,” he said, his waistcoat stretching as he threw out his portly chest.

Mrs Reynolds sniffed. “All the young ladies say that,” she said dismissively. “Mr Darcy is a very refined young man - I have my doubts that he would associate with the likes of you, besides he is not expected till the morrow.”

“Mark my words,” whispered Mr Gardiner into Lizzy's ear, “this hatchet faced harridan is paid to keep the riff raff at bay. The denial is subterfuge, to be sure.”

“Uncle,” said Lizzy, hoping that his loud whisper had not been heard by the stern housekeeper, “Mr Darcy abhors deceit of any kind. I am certain he is not at home.”

Mrs Reynolds led them through all the salons that were open to the public. She had to keep a strict eye upon the Gardiners for whenever she was involved in explaining a certain aspect of the history of the establishment, they had a tendency to wander down hallways and try to open closed doors.

Mrs Gardiner bemoaned the lack of ornamentation and splendour. Mr Gardiner thought the library was crammed much to full of books.

“I thought it would be much more fine,” Mrs Gardiner said, wrinkling her nose up at the lofty ceilings. “Not one speck of gold leaf! Nor a single cherub prancing about! No lavish draperies!”

But all Lizzy could think was that she'd had the audacity to aspire to such greatness. How had she even imagined she would be asked to be mistress of such a place! She could not go from room to room without feeling increasingly mortified at her own foolishness. And the thought of Mr Darcy welcoming her aunt and uncle there as visitors was absolutely ludicrous. In this setting they only looked more low class and garish than usual.

“Your master is a very fine person,” said Mr Gardiner to Mrs Reynolds as they entered the picture gallery. “I am surprised his house does not better reflect his wealth.”

“He has other things to spend his money on,” she answered severely. “He lavishes it on his tenants. Not a cottage on his estate but it has a new roof! Not a barn that does not have the most advanced machinery. Seed drills, ploughs and what have you!”

“He is quite an eccentric then!” squealed Mrs Gardiner. “That explains everything!” She added to Lizzy in an undervoice, “In London eccentrics are all the rage.” She was smiling brightly again.

“He is the best of landlords and brothers, and has never spoken a cross word to me in his life, if that is your description of an eccentric,” said Mrs Reynolds, bristling.

Lizzy stopped before a portrait of Mr Darcy and stood in contemplation of it. The artist had not been able to do justice to his jade-green eyes, nor his subtle smile, nor the planes of his cheeks, nor the set of his shoulders, nor the lean musculature of his body, nor . . . Lizzy was startled out of her reverie by her uncle suddenly whispering in her ear.

“You turned your nose up at that?”

Lizzy forbore to tell him that the portrait didn't even begin to describe the wonder that was Mr Darcy.

In a much louder voice Mr Gardiner said, “So Lizzy, this is your Mr Darcy. It is too bad he was not on hand to greet us as expected.”

She blushed and blushed as Mrs Reynolds eyed her with distaste and hurried them out of the house and into the hands of the gardener, who would conduct them about the grounds.

As they walked across the lawn towards the river, Lizzy turned back to look at the gracious house one last time, tripped over a loose stone, and hurtled headlong down the embankment into the water.

Neither her aunt nor uncle noticed. They were too busy regarding a gentleman who had suddenly come forward along the road that led around the side of the house from the stables.

Chapter Seventeen

Posted on Tuesday, 29 November 2005

“Ooh! It must be Mr Darcy!” cried Mrs Gardiner. She primped her locks and gave him a coy wave. Mr Gardiner stood to his full height, plumped his chest out, and bowed elaborately.

Darcy was about to turn on his heel and escape into his house as quickly as possible, but he felt a vague uneasiness which was brought on by more than the rather grotesque creatures in fawning attendance upon his lawn. Just as he came around the house he thought he had seen . . . but there was no one else in sight. Only the two smarmy day-trippers and his gardener, who was running about in circles, looking rather distraught. Why had he thought he had seen Elizabeth Bennet, of all people? She was comfortably settled in her home in Hertfordshire, as far as he knew, not polluting her sensibilities by visiting the opulent estates of the profligate upper classes.

The truth of the matter annoyed him. Since that disastrous meeting at Hunsford, and the kiss that had shattered his tranquility, he had been unable to get her out of his mind. Now was he to be haunted by fleeting visions of her at his every step? Was it such a blow to his pride that he had misjudged her so completely? Was he to torture himself forever for the mean spirited way he had rebuffed her advances? Admittedly the fault was his, and so must the humiliation be, but this was carrying things a bit too far.

He watched the gardener run down the slope towards the river and out of sight, leaving the two bourgeoisie visitors still staring raptly in his direction. Every so often the woman giggled and wiggled her fingers at him. Darcy was disturbed that this usually trustworthy retainer was behaving so out of character by abandoning these people upon the lawn. Not that he could blame the man, but he was paid well to do his job and put up with all sorts of evils. If he could shovel manure upon his flowerbeds he could dashed well deal with encroaching mushrooms.

Darcy strode forward, and as he came to the declivity in the lawn he was met with a vision that drew the breath from his lungs. It was Miss Elizabeth Bennet, wet through and dripping upon the manicured grass. The muslin of her gown clung to her form in a most revealing manner, relieving Darcy of all power of thought.

Understandably it took a few moments before his eyes raised to hers, but when they did meet, green and brown together, the cheeks of each became overspread with the deepest blush.

“Miss Bennet!” was all he was able to utter.

“Mr Darcy!” she returned, and then she cast her eyes down in complete confusion. This only served to increase Lizzy's embarrassment as the full realisation of the duplicitous nature of muslin was brought home to her.

Mr and Mrs Gardiner, finally aware of the existence of their niece again, looked on with unmitigated approval.

“Devious little minx,” sighed Mr Gardiner.

Mrs Gardiner dabbed at the corners of her eyes with her hankie. “A touching performance. Our own daughters could do well to take lessons from her. Dearest Lizzy! How could we ever have doubted her dutiful nature?”

As luck would have it, Darcy was too preoccupied to attend to these remarks. He was busy trying to keep his eyes from straying below Miss Bennet's neck. Or from noticing how the wet tendrils of her hair clung to the smooth whiteness of her skin.

“You are vacationing in Derbyshire?”

“Yes, as you can see,” said Lizzy, trying to stop her teeth from chattering. It was July, and the weather warm, but she was unaccustomed to standing out of doors in wet clothing. “I had understood you to be away from home. Otherwise I would not . . .”

Oh! Who was she trying to deceive? Lizzy knew that she would have come no matter what, having been forced to by her relations, but that he should assume she had ulterior motives of her own was a lowering thought.

“I quite understand,” he said. Though he did not entirely. What could possibly have induced Miss Bennet to come to the last place on earth she could possibly desire to be?

“I do hope your sister is well,” said Lizzy, attempting to remember her manners.

“She is, in fact she will be arriving tomorrow with our friends, Mr Bingley and his sister.”

“Mr Bingley! His sister!” Lizzy was cast once more into confusion, remembering how her aunt had snubbed them so terribly in London. I seemed that Mr Darcy remembered as well for his expression at once grew haughty. He had already been staring at her wet hair with revulsion. Lizzy wished herself anywhere but her present location. “You must excuse me - my aunt and uncle are waiting.”

“Your aunt and uncle?” Darcy was aghast. He had not thought to make a connection between Miss Bennet's sudden appearance and the two persons on his lawn.

“Yes, they must long have been wishing to return to Lambton.”

“Indeed!” cried Mr Gardiner, seeing this as a perfect opening in a conversation that Lizzy was about to botch completely. “We are your fair friend's nearest and dearest relatives. And you? Surely I recognise you from the splendid portrait I beheld in the gallery of your exquisite home?”

As both Lizzy and Darcy only stared at them in astonishment, Mrs Gardiner took a more direct approach than her husband. “Are you not going to introduce us, Lizzy?”

Lizzy wanted only to sink into the earth. “I do not think Mr Darcy . . .” she muttered indistinctly and turned to trudge uphill towards the carriageway.

Darcy had not been raised in the manor born without learning his manners. He put his hand out to halt Lizzy's progress. “Do please make your friends known to me, Miss Bennet.”

She stopped and sighed. Well, he had asked for it - she refused to be held responsible for the outcome. The introductions made, she cringed as her aunt effused and her uncle smiled smugly, his thumbs stuck into the pockets of his waistcoat in order to hold his coat back and show off all the fobs and gold chains that adorned his broad stomach. How her aunt went on and on! Lizzy's knees began to knock and she shivered uncontrollably though she had wrapped her arms about herself in a fruitless attempt to get warm.

Mrs Gardiner was busy extolling the virtues of the London season and teasing Darcy not to be a stranger when next in town, hinting at invitations for dinners and balls, He managed to divert his attention from the gruesomely fascinating effect talking rendered upon the myriad strings of pearls swathed about her plump neck, as her chins bobbled in and out amongst them, and glanced at Lizzy. Immediately he stepped forward, leaving Mrs Gardiner in mid-sentence, though she rambled on unheeding.

“Miss Bennet! Your lips are blue!” Darcy blurted out before remembering the impropriety of mentioning her lips at all. “Is there anything I could do, to give you present relief? A dry gown perhaps? My sister has several in her chamber that you may choose from.”

Lizzy could no longer speak, but nodded in gratitude. Now was not the time for pride - she was freezing to death.

“Oh Lord, Lizzy!” cried her aunt. “You poor dear! I shall never forgive myself if you should fall ill.”

“No indeed!” said her uncle, winking broadly at her. “Think of the imposition upon Mr Darcy if we were obliged to have you languishing with the chills in one of his bedchambers for a week!”

A look of dread passed over Darcy's face before he managed to school his features, but he lost control of them nearly at once when a claw-like hand clutched at his arm.

“Oh Mr Darcy! I do not believe Lizzy capable of walking the distance from here to your grand establishment. Whatever are we to do?” Mrs Gardiner looked up at him beseechingly.

“With my back, I am of no help,” claimed Mr Gardiner as he placed one hand on his lumbar region and grimaced for effect.

Darcy cast his eyes up to the heavens and then held his arms out to Lizzy. “Will you do me the honour, Miss Bennet?”

“No! Oh no. I can manage by myself, Mr Darcy.” Lizzy took a few faltering steps, praying that her knees would not give out before she reached the house.

“We both know that I am very adept at carrying you,” he said. “I had no small amount of practice at Netherfield.”

“But then I was not wet! You shall ruin your suit of clothes.”

“I know you may think it frivolous, Miss Bennet, but I do have another one.”

Lizzy's eyes flew to his face. Could it be that Mr Darcy was joking with her? And at a time like this? There was a decided sparkle in his eyes. She smiled as well as one can smile when their teeth are chattering nineteen to the dozen, and allowed herself to be lifted. The familiar feeling of being held in his arms was almost eclipsed by the awareness that her wet summer clothing did not provide the same sort of barrier as a dry gown and shawl. His warmth that radiated into her should have stopped her body's shivering, but inexplicably it only increased the sensation.

“Remember, Miss Bennet,” said Darcy in an uneven voice, “it is less awkward if you put your arms about my neck.” He could feel wetness seeping through his clothes at all the points where their bodies met. Her cheek was dangerously close to his. He wondered if her lips were still blue, but he dared not look, for if he so much as turned his head, he was afraid their lips would meet. The entire way from river to entranceway he concentrated on nothing else but resisting that temptation.

Darcy's butler was as well trained as any to be found in the best London establishments, so not a flicker of his true feelings reached his face as he opened the door and beheld his master with a bedraggled maiden in his arms. Privately he thought that is was about time that Mr Darcy had a little tumble between the sheets. The young man had lived the life of a monk for too long. He did, however, do a double take when Darcy and the girl were followed in by two decidedly inferior individuals. They would certainly throw a spanner in the works!

As Darcy climbed the staircase to the second floor he mused at the irony that the first time he should carry a lady up to a bedchamber in his own house, it would be to his sister's room and not to his own compartments. Not that Miss Bennet was the person he wished to carry there, after all the proper formalities of marriage had taken place, of course, but he certainly had a better idea of the appeal of the pursuit. No, when he did finally take a wife it would be someone other than Miss Bennet - had he not said something to the effect that she was the last woman on earth he could be prevailed upon to marry? And anyway, the idea of proposing twice to the same lady was preposterous.

But of course, he reminded himself, he had not proposed the first time. But that thought only made him all too aware of Miss Bennet again, and her lips. And the way her body had pressed to his that day. The same body he could feel all too well through her wet garments. He had to curb his train of thought abruptly. There was more to choosing a wife than lips and bodies, no matter how appealing they may be. There were common interests to consider, and intellect, and wit. Personality, character, compatibility.

He would not argue, even with himself, about Miss Bennet's relative intellect and wit. She was as well endowed in that respect as she was in some others. Though he could not say the same about some of her relatives. And as to her character, well the letter she had written attested to its strength. He had also borne witness to the sweetness of her disposition and decidedness with which she expressed her opinions. But as far as common interests and compatibility went, he drew a complete blank.

And his thoughts never even strayed near that incomprehensible thing called love.

By the time he reached the door of his sister's bedchamber he was more than ready to put his burden down. The proximity of Miss Bennet had clearly addled his thoughts. He wanted nothing other than to shut himself away in his study for the rest of the day and read some reproving work of literature.

“I do hope you can manage for yourself now,” he said. “I will have a maid sent up at once to assist you.”

“Thank you,” said Lizzy. “You must change your clothing as well, I am afraid.”

Darcy only nodded, then he stood and waited to see her enter the room and close the door behind her before he took himself off. His butler was waiting for him on the landing.

“What am I to do with your other guests?” he asked with a look of distaste.

Darcy had completely forgotten about the Gardiners, and since he could not order his butler to do what he would have wished, and erase them from the face of the earth, instead he said, “Show them into the green salon and supply them with refreshments.”

“Will you be joining them, sir?”

Darcy regarded his butler with a freezing look of disdain. “Though it may appear so, Plimstock, I have not yet gone completely insane.”

Chapter Eighteen

Posted on Tuesday, 6 December 2005

Lizzy felt the loss of the warmth of Mr Darcy's body immediately. No fire burned in the room she entered and the curtains were drawn. She took in shadowy images of a large, comfortable bed and elegant furnishings as she stumbled her way to the tall window and pulled aside the draperies. She attempted to warm herself by standing in the sunlight and rubbing the goose bumps that stood out on her arms.

A minute later Mrs Reynolds bustled in, followed by a maid who began directly to make up the fire.

“If you catch your death of cold you will have come by your just desserts, little lady,” said Mrs Reynolds. “Do not think that you are the first to attempt to trap the master in this manner. He is worth a thousand of you!”

“Indeed!” cried Lizzy. “It is not the case at all. I tripped and fell.”

“That is what they all say.” Mrs Reynolds turned to the maid who was fanning a growing blaze. “Remember the one who threw herself from the steps? And the other who almost fell beneath the carriage wheels?”

The maid nodded enthusiastically and began helping Lizzy to disrobe. “Though I do think that getting wet was a brilliant move on your part,” she whispered into Lizzy's ear. “Nothing was left to the master's imagination.”

Lizzy blushed and blushed again at the thought. Meanwhile Mrs Reynolds threw open the wardrobe doors and was going through the dresses hanging there.

“You will be disappointed to know that Miss Darcy has nothing immodest.” She glared at Lizzy and handed her a gown of thick brown cotton. “This should do for you,” she said and she left the room with one last frigid glance.

“Don't mind her,” said the maid, rubbing warmth into Lizzy with a thick towel. “She's just enjoying playing the role of dragon lady. She really is quite sweet and a joy to work for.”

“There is no need for her to treat me so discourteously,” said Lizzy. “I have no designs upon Mr Darcy at all.”

“Have you not?” asked the maid, smirking. “Well, to be sure your relatives do. I lit the fire in the green parlour and overheard them making wedding plans.”

Lizzy groaned. “You are not the most discreet of servants - I am surprised Mr Darcy tolerates you.”

“Mr Darcy is too good a man to let me go. I support my crippled mother and all my wee brothers and sisters upon my wages.”

The gown on now, Lizzy appraised herself in the mirror. The dress was elegantly styled, but there was not one flounce or tuck, and no lace or ribbon adorning it. The neckline was high, and the sleeves buttoned at her wrist with a row of ten buttons. Because Miss Darcy had a larger frame and was taller, the dress hung loosely upon Lizzy and swept the floor.

“Are all her dresses like this, or is this Mrs Reynolds' idea of a joke?” asked Lizzy.

“Miss Darcy is the most demure young lady there ever was,” said the maid, “but I believe this is her preferred gown for wearing to church in the winter. Now, if you will come with me, I shall take you to the green salon.”

When she was finally reunited with her family, Lizzy had to glare meaningfully at the maid for a few moments before the girl took herself off and left them on their own.

“Lizzy!” cried her aunt. “Why are you dressed in that - that - monstrously hideous gown?”

“It is of no import, Aunt,” said Lizzy. “We must leave at once. Oh! Would that we never came!”

“Leave?” cried her uncle. “I see no reason to leave. I think rather we ought call the apothecary. Indeed you look decidedly ill.”

“Come,” said her aunt. “Have some of these delicious cakes! They are quite delightful. You must make sure that when you are married Mr Darcy never sacks the cook. But the housekeeper! You must get rid of her at once - and that horrid butler. But there will be time aplenty for that. First you must quickly eat your fill then arrange yourself upon the settee much in the way your mother is wont to. That should do the trick. When Mr Darcy returns and sees how indisposed you are he will not hear of your leaving.”

“I am not indisposed, Aunt, and I should like to leave without having to face Mr Darcy again, if at all possible.”

“Not want to face Mr Darcy?” Her uncle stared at her so searchingly that she started to blush. “Is there some reason that you fear seeing him? Did he commit some indiscretion while he carried you upstairs? This is an outrage! That you should be compromised while we were plied with tea and cakes!”

“No Uncle,” said Lizzy, reaching for his arm to restrain him. “Nothing . . .”

She turned and stopped dead in her tracks. Mr Darcy was standing in the open doorway, his colour heightened, his hands clenched.

“Miss Bennet has no reason to fear me, I assure you,” he said in a chill voice.

“If she does, you will have me to answer to,” said Mr Gardiner threateningly.

Mrs Gardiner rose quickly from her chair and rushed forward, kicking her husband surreptitiously in the shin as she surged past him. “Mr Darcy! I must thank you for all the kindness you have shown to our Lizzy. We are so honoured and thrilled at the care you have so liberally bestowed that my husband is quite beside himself and knows not how to thank you. And on top of all that he is distraught over poor Lizzy. The sweet thing is completely unwell, as you can plainly see, but will not own to it for a second. Dear child! She has such a fear of causing trouble to anyone, but I have been attempting to assure her that with an estate great as yours and such a fine staff of loyal servants as you have, that to see her well is no trouble for you at all. Why! I am convinced she could convalesce here for a week and you would not even notice our presence.”

Mr Darcy severely doubted that and began to stutter. “I, of course, will do all that is in my power . . .” Darcy could not finish his sentence for Mr Gardiner suddenly threw himself upon his chest.

“Mr Darcy, please accept my heartfelt thanks. I am all at sixes and sevens over this sorry business. When I saw my poor Lizzy fall into the river I was sure we had lost her forever. It is a mercy that I did not suffer an apoplexy!”

“Uncle!” cried Lizzy. “There is no need for such a display. I am perfectly well and would only like to go back to the inn now and leave poor Mr Darcy in peace. We have abused his hospitality far too long.”

Darcy knew not what to say. Politeness compelled him to refute Miss Bennet's statement, and say that there had been no abuse to his hospitality, but lying was something that he could not bring himself to do. Beside the fact that Miss Bennet was wearing a very drab, ill-fitting gown, he could see nothing physically wrong with her. In fact most every physical part of her, besides her hands and her face, was completely hidden from his view. This reflection only served to bring to mind the shape of her form as revealed by her wet gown. Now was not a good time for such recollections.

“Are you absolutely certain that you are well, Miss Bennet?”

“Absolutely, Mr Darcy. Would you be so kind as to have our carriage brought around?”

Mr Darcy left the room to attend to it at once, before Mr Gardiner could throw himself upon him again. The closing of the door unleashed a flood of recriminations from the aunt and uncle upon their niece. Darcy felt a rush of sympathy towards Miss Bennet that took him completely by surprise. He almost wished that she did not have to leave, but the prospect of spending another moment in the same room as either of her relatives was too much for him to bear.

Mr and Mrs Gardiner were in high dungeon all the way back to Lambton, and it was not until Mrs Gardiner fortuitously remembered that Miss Darcy's gown would need to be returned and Lizzy's retrieved, that any modicum of good humour was restored to the party. The following morning Mrs Gardiner did her best to convince Lizzy to dress in a manner to show off all her allurements to best advantage. Lizzy, however, could think only of the housekeeper's scorn, and insisted on wearing a simple country-style gown and a straw bonnet.

“You look like a peasant!” cried Mrs Gardiner, wringing her hands in distress.

“If this gown is good enough to wear into Meryton then it is good enough to wear to Pemberley,” said Lizzy, resolutely.

When they arrived at that august mansion the impassive Plimstock showed them into the drawing room. Lizzy's feelings of awkwardness were only exacerbated by the warm welcome she received from Caroline Bingley and her brother. These feelings were replaced by mortification when her aunt surged into the room behind her, reeking of lavender and dripping with lace.

“My dear Miss Bingley, it has been such an age since you and your delightful brother called upon us in London. I had great hopes you would visit again, but there must have been a small misunderstanding. However all's well that ends well, as I always say! Jane was so disappointed to have missed you. She is in Brighton with the rest of her family now and looking as pretty as a picture with her frilly parasol as she walks upon the sand. Her beauty will not be turned coarse and brown by the sun's rays. And she is truly beautiful, is she not?” This last was directed to Bingley with a wining smile. He stammered and said she was lovely as an angel.

While Bingley was being besieged by the Gardiners, Darcy came forward to greet Lizzy and introduce her to his sister.

“We only came to return her gown. I do not mean to impose,” whispered Lizzy.

“Your visit is no imposition, I assure you,” said Darcy. This was not a lie because in his thoughts he did not include her relatives in the `your'. He was using it in the singular and not the plural.

Miss Darcy was a tall young lady. She was dressed in a severely elegant gown similar to the one that Lizzy had worn the day before, but green in colour. Lizzy's first impression was of excessive shyness, but after a moment of conversation with Mr Darcy's sister she realised that the girl was proud and not in the least bit interested in talking to her.

When the formalities were over, Miss Darcy turned and hissed into her brother's ear, “Must we have these people here, Fitzwilliam?”

“Miss Bennet is returning the gown that she borrowed yesterday after she inadvertently fell into the river,” Darcy whispered back. “It is a measure of politeness to be attended to with at least a modicum of grace.”

“Oh! You are all for treating the lower classes with such forbearance,” replied Miss Darcy. “I do not have your tolerance!”

“The truth, Georgiana, no matter how annoying you may find it, is that Miss Bennet is a gentleman's daughter and so is of the same class as we.”

Miss Darcy turned and eyed Lizzy appraisingly, then darted a disgusted look at the Gardiners. “That's as may be,” she said, “but you can't say the same for her relatives. They positively stink of the shop.”

“May I remind you that the Bingleys' fortune came from trade?”

“Fortune being the operative word, dear brother. I can see no fortune here.”

Darcy sighed. Somehow he had failed badly in the upbringing of his sister. He ought not to have left her so much at Rosings with his aunt. The previous summer he had placed her at Ramsgate with a companion in order to regulate her pride, but he had been deceived in Mrs Younge. She had passed herself off as a liberal minded, down to earth, genteel sort of woman, but she had turned out to be an elitist. He had paid a surprise visit only to find them perusing a list of peerages to discover which of the eligible lords had the greatest assets so that Georgiana would know whom to pursue once she made her debut. What his sister needed was a companion who had a healthy understanding of the vagaries of the upper echelons of society. Someone a little more like Miss Elizabeth Bennet.

Caroline Bingley finally pried herself from Mrs. Gardiner's clutches and ran over to Lizzy. She grasped her by the hand and pulled her towards the instrument. “Please join me, Miss Bennet,” she cried. “Do you not think music is just what this gathering needs?”

“By all means,” said Lizzy, who had heard more of Darcy's conversation with his sister than was pleasing. “But will Miss Darcy deign to allow me to use her instrument? I fear I am too common.”

“We are both too common by half!” laughed Miss Bingley. “But you know they say, `Pride goeth before a fall,' so there is hope for our Miss Darcy yet. Do not let anything she has said disturb you. Her brother is perfectly amiable. Indeed he has no improper pride - and it is her brother's opinion that matters, not hers.”

Lizzy balked. “Miss Bingley, there is a misapprehension in this household that I have set out to ensnare Mr Darcy. I can only assure you that is not the case.”

Caroline flashed her an understanding smile. “Colonel Fitzwilliam has told me all about what transpired in Kent. I am on your side - trust me, won't you? While I love my colonel to death, I admit that he is the most bumbling matchmaker alive! I, however, am a true proficient. Now let us find a piece of music that we both know and play a duet before my brother rethinks his interest in Jane. Your choice of relations is most improvident.”

“As if I had a say in the matter!”

“Ah well, Darcy has some rather horrid ones himself. But you see, the worst we Bingleys have is Mr Hurst, all our other relatives being deceased, and after a glass of port or two Mr Hurst is not an issue at all. Louisa swears by it!”

“Yes, I noticed she had a tendency to cure ills with the use of wine.”

“You were in dire need of it that day,” said Caroline as she reminisced. “Quite a funny song you sang - but I don't think we'll find the music for that one here.”

When they finally found sheet music to their liking, Caroline called the rest of the company to attention and announced that they were in for some unprecedented entertainment.

“The riff-raff you allow to play my pianoforte!” said Georgiana to her brother and she sat down with her arms crossed and indulged in a fit of the dismals. Darcy sat down beside his sister, curious as to what Miss Bingley was up to. A more devious lady he had never met.

Neither Caroline nor Lizzy was terribly accomplished at the art, but their lively manner captivated all but one member of their audience. The others were prepossessed in their favour. Bingley was ready, the Gardiners eager, and Darcy determined to be pleased. He did not, however, expect to be quite as entranced as he was. He was certain that Elizabeth Bennet had overheard at least part of his conversation with Georgiana, but rather than react with disdain as she would previously have done, she was singing and playing as if she did not have a care in the world. Could it be that she no longer regarded him as a dilettante Lothario?

Lizzy, for her part, was allowing her thoughts to run wild again. She realised that she had completely misjudged Caroline Bingley - she was proving herself to be a dear, sweet girl. And one of the dearest, sweetest things about her was that, rather than having designs on Mr Darcy herself, she had been working to make him fall in love with Lizzy for all these months. This taught Lizzy to hope as she'd never hoped before. She looked across the room and caught Mr Darcy regarding her, and held his eyes with her own. She gently smiled as she warmed in his gaze and discerned a returning smile that seemed to speak with promise of things to come.

The door opened and a footman entered the room. He glanced around and then approached Darcy, giving him a letter. When the song was over, Darcy got up and walked over to the piano.

“What brings you here in such state, Mr Darcy?” teased Caroline. “We refuse to be alarmed by you. Our courage rises at any attempt to intimidate us!”

“You know that I have no design of alarming either of you, Miss Bingley. You delight in always professing opinions not your own. I have merely come to tell both you lovely ladies how much I enjoyed your performance, and also to deliver this letter to Miss Bennet.”

“A letter for me?” asked Lizzy. “How came it to be delivered here?”

“As you can see,” said Darcy, “the direction was written very ill.”

“It is from Jane!” cried Lizzy. In the background Bingley's head perked up at the very mention of the name. “Do you mind if I read it right now?”

“Not at all,” said Darcy. “It must be some time since you heard from your sister.”

“Yes it is,” said Lizzy with a becoming smile, as she opened the letter. She sat on the piano stool, reading happily, and Darcy conversed quietly with Caroline who remained seated beside her. Suddenly her complexion changed.

“Oh no!” she cried. “It cannot be. Whatever are we to do? We are all ruined!” She looked around, her eyes wide as she suddenly recollected that she was not alone. Everyone in the room was staring at her in startled wonder.

Lizzy pulled a handkerchief from her reticule, and as she burst into tears she covered her face with it and was soon lost to everything else.

Chapter Nineteen

Posted on Tuesday, 10 January 2006

“Lizzy, you silly girl!” cried Mrs Gardiner with much forced laughter. “Such a prank! You have shocked us all to the marrow indeed! I was never more diverted! Ruined! That is too, too droll.” She rushed over to Lizzy's side and shielded her from everyone else's view with her plump body.

“All our nieces enjoy enacting tragedies for our amusement at the drop of a hat!” explained Mr Gardiner. “A highly entertaining custom, but I can see how it would adversely affect the uninitiated. Do not be alarmed, Miss Elizabeth is only funning.”

“She must be a very good actress then,” said Caroline, “for I found her tears quite convincing.”

“Are you entirely certain?” asked Darcy, attempting to peer around Mrs Gardiner.

“It is no use Aunt!” cried Lizzy. “There is no hiding such a scandal from the world. My sister has left all her friends and has gone off from Brighton in the company of Mr Wickham!”

Mr Bingley appeared to be suffering from a physical blow, so pained was his expression. “Your sister!” he was heard to utter.

“Lizzy!” coaxed Mrs Gardiner. “We have all enjoyed your performance exceedingly, but one can have too much of a good thing.”

“Not Jane!” cried Lizzy. “She is only relaying the news, Mr Bingley. It is my other sister.”

His relief was palpable. He slumped upon a chair, fanning himself.

“I do not find any part of this display amusing at all,” said Georgiana icily. “Fitzwilliam, if you cannot restrain your guests I shall have to ring for Plimstock to escort them to the door.”

“I do believe Miss Darcy has the right of it,” said Mr Gardiner jovially. “We have imposed upon your generosity beyond the customary half hour visit. Now we must be off to our other engagements. We look forward to seeing you again when we are all in Town. Indeed, you must dine at our home upon your earliest convenience.”

Georgiana only sniffed and turned her back.

Caroline forced her way past Mrs Gardiner's bulk and knelt before Lizzy. “You cannot leave before something is done for your present relief, Miss Bennet,” she said.

Darcy looked at her, his expression solicitous. “Shall I get you a glass of wine?”

“Wine is not a good idea,” hissed Caroline.

Lizzy glanced from one to the other as she dried her eyes with her handkerchief. “I am afraid you have long been desiring my absence.”

“Not at all,” Darcy answered with real, unavailing concern. “Would to heaven I could say or do something to offer consolation to such distress.”

“Indeed,” agreed Caroline. “What has been done to recover your sister? Is there any way we could be of service to you?”

“Lizzy,” squealed her aunt. “Can you please assure your gullible friends that this is all a lark?” She snatched Jane's letter from her niece's limp grasp and perused it. “Nothing at all to be concerned about! Jane says that Brighton is uncommonly flat for this time of year and she wishes there were some excitement - an elopement would suffice to revive the scene!”

“That must be what gave Lizzy the idea for this very amusing performance,” said Mr Gardiner. “And it has enlivened the company most successfully, but we must be off at once, my dears. Reverend Hammond awaits at the Lambton church and we would not want to disappoint the deserving soul.”

“In truth we must go,” said Lizzy, jumping to her feet. “Something must be done. My poor, poor Papa, and my dearest Jane - however will they cope with Mama?”

Mrs and Mrs Gardiner rushed Lizzy to their carriage, all the while disclaiming and cajoling her to behave. Darcy and Caroline followed in their wake; Bingley was not yet capable of walking and Georgiana was only too glad to see the backs of the unwanted visitors. She sat down, uttered a big sigh, and rang for fresh tea.

“I do hope you have been misinformed about your sister,” said Caroline kindly.

“Indeed, indeed it is all in jest,” said Mr Gardiner in as hearty tones as he could muster.

Darcy said nothing at all, but his eyes never left Lizzy's face as he handed her up to the carriage. She, in turn, kept hers downcast, but her hand trembled in his and clung just a trifle stronger and longer than the conventions of society dictated.

“Did you ever hear such a bag of moonshine?” asked Georgiana as Darcy and Caroline returned to the drawing room. “Some people are not happy until they can bring the attention of all the room upon themselves.”

“I do believe Miss Bennet's distress was real,” said Caroline.

“Coming from a family with such crass relations I have no doubt that one of her sisters has committed an indiscretion. From what I have just witnessed I can only surmise that they are all utterly common.”

“Miss Jane Bennet is an angel,” said Bingley, instantly rising to her defence.

“But you, Brother, must agree that every connection with these Bennets needs to be severed.”

Darcy had been staring into the fire. He turned and gave Georgiana a thoughtful glance. “Our attentions to them are now more important than ever.”

“But,” spluttered Georgiana, “you heard what Miss Bennet said. Her sister has run off with this Wickham fellow, whoever he may be. A lecherous wastrel, no doubt. My sensibilities are completely offended. Associating with any of that family would now be an unbearable degradation for me.”

“Mr Wickham is an engaging rogue,” said Caroline.

“Yes,” agreed Darcy. “I had once believed his lies myself. Small wonder that an innocent young lady has fallen victim to his wiles. He manufactures sincerity with great skill.”

“Innocent!” snorted Georgiana.

“Miss Darcy,” said Caroline. “It does not become you to pass judgement so readily. I think this gentleman could have charmed even you, given the right circumstances.”

“Your suggestion is preposterous! If it were not for the fact that my cousin is set to marry you, I would not put up with your insolence!”

“Georgiana!” said Darcy, his voice edged with anger. “Cannot you show a shred of human compassion?”

“Not to the undeserving.”

“You are lucky that Miss Bingley has so much forbearance and such a forgiving and happy nature. She is to be your companion for the next few weeks and I expect you to afford her the respect she deserves. Unfortunately I will not be at home. There is pressing business I must attend to in London.”

“But you have just dragged me here from London against my will!” cried Georgiana. “Now you are leaving me alone? What can be of more importance than attending to your only sister?”

“Attempting to save a family from ruin,” said Darcy, and he strode from the room.

Caroline watched him leave, a knowing smile spreading across her face. Finally the chink in Darcy's armour had been breached. She was certain of it.

Elizabeth leaned back in the travelling coach, ignoring all her aunt and uncle's admonitions. They had not stopped harping at her since leaving Pemberley. Now, after packing up all their belongings from the inn in Lambton and spending the night en-route to Brighton in some tawdry hostelry with damp sheets, they were entering the fair streets of that coastal resort. Her head was pounding. She had not slept a wink due to worrying about the fate of her poor sister. She, of all people, knew what Wickham was truly capable of.

“Oh Lizzy!” cried Mrs Bennet as the travellers entered the salon of their summer cottage. “Oh Brother! Oh Sister! You cannot imagine what a state we are all in. My poor husband prostrate with grief, my three other daughters milling around like lost little sheep, and only I to keep it all together! I am at the end of my tether! How on earth could she do this to us? How?”

“Do not fret, but tell us what is being done, Mama,” cried Lizzy.

“Done? Weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth - nothing more. Your father cannot get up from his bed - how is he to fight a duel with Wickham from under his covers, I ask you?”

Mr Gardiner quailed as his sister's eyes rested upon him intently. “Why are you looking at me in that way, Sister?” he asked with some trepidation.

“I was just recalling how adept you were with a foil in your younger days,” she said.

“Have a heart!” cried Mrs Gardiner. “Think of our wee bairns.”

Lizzy almost choked. From where had her aunt suddenly developed that Scottish accent? “Mama!” she cried. “This is not something to be settled with a duel. They must be married or we will all have to live out our lives in shame and degradation. Can you imagine the gossip if Uncle Gardiner were to kill him?”

“Or be killed,” added Mr Gardiner, who had a rather more accurate estimation of his abilities in comparison to those of a stalwart soldier of the militia.

“One of my daughters marry a penniless knave like Wickham?” shrieked Mrs Bennet. “It is not to be borne!”

“It is the most we can hope for,” said Mrs Gardiner,” if we are to hush this scandal up. Your Lizzy has already attempted to let the cat completely out of the bag, but Mr Gardiner and I did our best to scotch that, did we not?”

“Yes, my dear. Due to your quick thinking we managed to save the day!”

“You followed my lead with amazing eloquence!”

“We are such a pair, my dearest Dumpling!”

“Can you two save the sheep's eyes for when you are alone?” Mrs Bennet glared at them both. “That is all very well, and I am pleased you were able to make up for Lizzy's foolish tongue wagging, but it still leaves us no closer to discovering what we are to do to punish the dastardly Wickham. Marriage to one of my daughters would be more of a reward than anything else.”

Lizzy saw no point in taking part in such a fruitless discussion. Instead she hastened to her father's chamber. She was shocked that a man of his nature would have taken to his bed over the matter rather than acting upon it. Admittedly he was a trifle indolent, but he had raised all his daughters to be morally upstanding. Light flirting was tolerated but he had always impressed upon them the fragility of a woman's virtue. She would have expected him to already be in London hunting her sister and Wickham down.

“Lizzy,” said her father as she peeked her head around the door, “come in quickly and shut that thing behind you. I have something to tell you that no one else should hear.”

“Papa!” Lizzy ran up to his bed and took his hands. She was shocked at the ashen cast to his skin and the tremor in his voice. He looked as if he had aged ten years since she had last seen him. “Are you ill?”

“No, my Lizzy,” he said with a wan smile. “It is my spirit that is worn down. I thought that in my own way I was a good father and now it has been brought home to me what a pitiful failure I truly am. If I have the silliest daughters in all of England, I have only myself to blame. And if one of my daughters has chosen to make her family the mockery of the polite world, who am I to judge her when I have formed her thus?”

“But Papa, it was Mr Wickham's evil deed, not my sister's. He is everything that is vile and reprehensible. Would that she could be saved from him, but they must be made to marry, though he is such a man.”

Mr Bennet struggled to sit up. He fumbled through a sheaf of papers on the table beside his bed and drew forth a letter, handing it to Lizzy. “Read this.”

Lizzy took the crumpled sheet and smoothed it. It was written in her sister's round, schoolgirl hand.

I do not know that any of you shall laugh. I certainly cannot laugh myself when I think of how shocked you shall all be in the morning, as soon as I am missed. And do not suppose that I am going to Gretna Green. There is only money enough in my purse to carry us as far as London. You may think me a simpleton, for there is but one man in the world that I love, and the man I am leaving with tonight is not he. I can hardly write, my hand is shaking so with nervous apprehension. But if all goes as I have planned, my true love will follow after us and save me. I have no regrets about using Mr Wickham in this way - he is so filled with conceit and so ready to take advantage of any young lady to cross his path that he deserves the ridicule that will come to him. Pray make my excuses to Pratt for not keeping our engagement . . .

Lizzy looked up at her father, her mouth gaping. “But this means . . . this means . . .”

“Yes.” Her father sighed heavily. “The annoying truth is that Wickham did not run off with your sister. Your sister has abducted Wickham.”

Chapter 20

Posted on Sunday, 12 February 2006

The very next morning the entire Bennet family left Brighton. Mr Bennet and the Gardiners made their way to London, while Mrs Bennet, supported by her remaining daughters, straggled home to Longbourn as unobtrusively as possible - no easy task with that lady wailing like a banshee in the confines of the travelling chaise.

At the same moment that both parties departed the seaside, Mr Darcy, who had only just arrived to London in the wee hours of the morning, walked out of the door of his townhouse and took a hackney to a much less favourable part of town. His plan was to enquire at inns to see if he could find news of the runaways. His problem was, not knowing which sister it was that Wickham had run off with, he could not give an accurate description of the lady to the hostellers.

It was true that all of Elizabeth's younger sisters were of average height, with average coloured hair, and average looks, but their dispositions differed to quite a degree. One was loud and boisterous, one coughed, seemingly for her own amusement, and one kept her nose in a book of Gothic tales. He sighed. Darcy had to admit that he remembered very little about any of them, so unimpressed he was by their antics and attributes. In was only Elizabeth that was vivid in his mind. Maybe if they had all taken turns kissing him . . . no! That was a train of thought most inadvisable to follow.

At the first inn he was looked at rather oddly, at the second he noticed more than one post boy snicker behind his hand. At the third inn, the landlord broke out into loud guffaws.

“What is so blessed funny?” asked Darcy. “A lady's honour is at stake!”

“Do you know how many couples of that description come by these inns daily?” asked the landlord when he finally caught his breath. “A rakish soldier and a boisterous young lady? Why, practically every coach that rolls into this yard, and the two of them often as not insisting they are brother and sister! And the number of concerned relatives with their discreet enquiries is staggering. But this is the first account I've heard with a possible cough - and the idea of either of an eloping pair reading a book, well it more than tickles me funny bone.”

Darcy glared at him. “This is no laughing matter! I have come upon this quest unsure of the exact identity of the lady I am intent upon saving.”

The landlord held his sides and shook. “Pardon me, Sir Galahad. If you were to throw in a squint, a limp, and a scar running down the gentleman's face, I think I could oblige you this minute!”

Darcy turned away in disgust. It was not that he had never learned to be laughed at; Bingley's sister had made him proficient at that skill. It was just that he realised how truly ridiculous his mission was. And all because he wanted to impress a lady. How singularly annoying. He ought indeed to have made sure which sister it was he was searching for. In his haste to leave the inn, he rammed into a man coming through the door, almost knocking him to the ground.

“I do beg your pardon,” said Darcy, automatically grabbing the fellow by the shoulders to steady him. “Why, you are in the militia!”

“Indeed,” said the officer.

“Was your regiment stationed at Meryton?”

“Before moving to Brighton, yes,” answered the man.

“I am on a mission of extreme delicacy,” said Darcy, “and it concerns a fellow officer of yours.”

The soldier looked at him warily. “I too.”

“And a lady?”

“What do you know of the case?”

“The soldier is Mr Wickham, and the lady one Miss . . .”

The officer's face turned scarlet as his coat. “I will not have her name bandied about! I mean to ensure that her virtue is not compromised. Tell me all that you know and how you came by your information.”

“I was told in utmost confidence by the lady's sister,” said Darcy, standing as tall as he could and staring down his nose at the soldier before him. It helped that he had spent his childhood with his cousin, the colonel, impersonating their aunt, Lady Catherine. He knew that he looked nothing if not daunting.

Unfortunately the officer, though a full six inches shorter than him, was undaunted. “And what proof do you have of this, sir?”

“What more proof do you need?” said Darcy. “I have pledged not to rest till I find the cur who has eloped with Elizabeth's sister, and I intend to ensure their marriage to save the honour and respectability of the entire family.”

“I forbid you to do this!” shouted the officer.

“You forbid me to protect a lady's honour?” cried Darcy, aghast.

“I forbid you to make them marry!” he cried. “I am her true love! I am the one she shall marry.”

“All the better,” said Darcy. “The last person in the world that Elizabeth wants for a brother is Wickham. If you see fit to work together on this with me, I will do all that I can to bring your marriage to Miss . . . Bennet about.” He held his hand towards the officer.

“Do not mention her name again,” hissed the man, “or that of her sister.” But in the end he reluctantly held his hand out. “Lieutenant Pratt.”

Darcy introduced himself as they shook hands. Now he not only had someone to assist him with the embarrassing inquiries, he was relatively certain that Pratt must know which of the sisters he was so thoroughly in love with.

They made enquiries at all the posting houses in that area of town and finally came upon one where the landlord was able to give them some hope.

“There was a young lady of that description, travelling with an officer,” he informed them, “but from what I could see she was in no particular danger from the cgentleman. My impression of the situation was quite the reverse.”

Pratt bristled. Darcy was glad that the Lieutenant was unarmed or there would have been a danger of him running someone through with his sabre before long.

“I assure you that the lady we speak of is in great danger!” he yelled. “Come Mr Darcy, this coxcomb shall waste no more of our time. It is obvious he is speaking of a different lady entirely.”

Darcy was not so sure. This was the first true lead they had got all morning and he intended to follow it up, Pratt or no Pratt. “Did the couple give any indication where they were headed?” he asked.

“That was what caused me to remember the lady, above all the rest that pass through in a soldier's company,” said the landlord with a suggestive smirk that sent Pratt's hand in the direction where his sword hilt would have been, if he had worn one. “She was very careful to let me know that they were not travelling beyond London, and asked if I could recommend a boarding-house. She then greased my palm and bid me reveal nothing, but her orders were belied by her broad wink.”

“Which boarding house?” asked Darcy.

Pratt was pacing about the taproom, looking as if he were about to explode at any moment.

“She was not too flush in the pocket, so the establishment I sent her to is not in the style she is no doubt accustomed to,” he responded. “Nothing compared to this quality place.”

Darcy decided that no matter who the lady was, if she had been directed to a residence of lower class than the one he was in at that moment, she was in dire need of saving, whether she wanted it or not. “Can you give me the direction with less preamble?” he asked.

“I promised the lady my silence.” The landlord grinned, showing a raft of chipped and yellowed teeth. “I am a man of my word and not a loose lipped gabster.”

That grin was something Darcy had no wish to see again, so when Pratt backed the landlord against the wall and threatened to loosen his lips, he did not cavil.

The landlord wisely decided that keeping what teeth he had intact was worth more than the few bob he had hoped to gain from the two gentry coves. “Do you know Saffron Hill in Holborn?”

“You sent a lady there?”

Darcy was quick to stay Pratt's hand for fear that once he unleashed a blow the landlord would be unable to tell them the rest. “We know of it,” he said.

“Go to number nineteen, Younge Alley,” wheezed the landlord as Pratt's hand tightened upon his throat.

“Put him down,” Darcy ordered Pratt, “and let us hasten from here. The air in this establishment is too vile to breathe.”

If Darcy thought the air in the inn vile, he soon discovered that it was pleasant compared to the stench in Younge Alley. He and Pratt eyed the soot-covered buildings with misgiving and then hesitantly made their way up the worn cobbles, dodging potholes, ragged children, and dingy laundry hanging across the narrow street. Number nineteen had a green door with flaking paint and warped boards. Darcy was just debating whether his gloves would survive contact with the door when Pratt pushed Dacy's hand aside and thumped loudly with his fist.

A slatternly woman opened the door a crack, and Pratt shoved his foot through the gap before she could close it again.

“I've done nuffin' wrong!” she wailed.

“Stand aside,” he ordered. “We are here to rescue the young lady.”

“Rescue?” She stared at him blankly. “I ain't holdin' nobody against her free will, I'm not!”

“Nobody is accusing you of anything, Miss,” said Darcy, wishing that Pratt were not such a hothead. “In what room will we find the young lady and the officer?”

“The door by the landing.” The woman gazed in awe at Darcy. No gentleman of such quality had ever been seen in Younge Alley, let alone entering her boarding house.

Pratt took the stairs two at a time and then, without bothering to knock or even try the door, rammed it open with his shoulder.

Darcy was up the staircase just in time to see a girl throw her arms about Pratt and cry exultantly, “My darling! I never gave up hope that you would save me from this nefarious rake!”

“Has he hurt you? If he has laid a finger on you I shall kill him. Just say the word.”

“Oh! You are so wonderful,” she gasped. “It would be fun to say that he had hurt me so you could prove your love even more, but I have managed to keep myself safe from his lecherous advances.”

As Darcy entered the room, he could well understand why Wickham had posed no threat to Miss Bennet's maidenhood. He was tied to the bedpost with his own neck-cloth and a ladies' spangled shawl was wrapped about his head, muffling his yells as he struggled on the floor at the end of the bed.

Pratt knelt at Miss Bennet's feet. “How could I have allowed this to happen to you, my sweet? Say you forgive me for leaving you unprotected. I vow that I shall never leave your side again, that is, if you will have me.”

Her face was radiant. “Of course I will! You have proved yourself to be my saviour.”

“Darcy!” cried Pratt. “Will you not wish us joy?”

“Indeed,” said Darcy. “But first we must remove Miss Bennet from here without delay and take her to her uncle's home in Cheapside.”

“Mr Darcy!” cried Miss Bennet. “Why ever did you bring Mr Darcy, Pratt? Who is he to us that he should be here ordering us about?”

“I am not sure what his connection is,” said Pratt. “He mentioned your sister Elizabeth, and a vow to find you. And he pledged to help us get married.”

“What has Lizzy to do with this?”

“Miss Bennet,” said Darcy in exasperation, “do you not realise that these actions of yours and Mr Wickham's could have ruined the rest of your sisters in the eyes of society?'

“That is all stuff and nonsense!” she cried. “Society has such stupid rules! Why any man worth his salt would not treat a lady with scorn if he loved her, no matter how foolishly one of her sisters may have acted. You would do well to pay less attention to society, Mr Darcy, especially if you have any hopes to win my sister Lizzy's hand.”

“I have no aspirations to her hand,” said Darcy. “I only acted to save her reputation and yours.”

“A young lady's reputation ought not be considered as brittle as glass. As you see my reputation is unbroken and my dear Pratt loves me more than ever, and I him. This alarming adventure of mine has done us nothing but good!”

“If we do not get out of this godforsaken place at once I am afraid we shall be set upon by thieves and left for dead in the gutters, and the effluent running there would bring us to a quick end.”

Miss Bennet turned to Pratt. “Mr Darcy is dreadfully dull. I do feel sorry for Lizzy - she has not half as dashing a beau as I, for all that he is so very rich. I am much more pleased to be marrying you - what are jewels and fine carriages to love and adventure?”

“I am not Miss Elizabeth's beau,” said Darcy through clenched teeth.

Miss Bennet giggled. “Methinks he doth protest too much.”

Pratt laughed back at her, completely lost in the warmth of her sparkling brown eyes.

As they headed for the door, Darcy looked back towards Wickham, who was struggling more fiercely than ever. “Are we just going to leave him there?” he asked.

“Well someone has to pay the shot,” said Miss Bennet with a toss of her head. “I think he deserves it, abducting me like that.”

Darcy looked from the capable young lady to the wriggling mass at the bedstead. He did not fully understand the how or the why of it, but he was quite certain that it was not Wickham who had done the abducting, not by a long shot. Still, he could not forget the letter Elizabeth had written with her expose of Wickham's reprehensible character, and he decided that a little more time at number nineteen, Younge Alley, might do the scoundrel some good.

Downstairs again, he handed the slatternly woman a few coins before following Pratt and Miss Bennet out into the street. “For repair of the door,” he said. “And if you could keep the officer in your establishment for another day, the favour would be greatly appreciated. Some of his fellow soldiers should come by tomorrow to remove him.”

She took the money and curtsied low. He was such a fine and handsome gentleman and had spoken so politely, she would have captured the moon if he had asked her - this trifling request was a pleasure to fulfil.

Chapter Twenty-One

Posted on Wednesday, 1 March 2006

“Mary!” cried Mrs Gardiner. “Why, you naughty puss! Frightening us so with your little games. I'm sure you gave Mr Darcy the wrong idea! And Lieutenant Pratt! So pleased to see you - but where is Mr Wickham who so politely escorted Mary to London? I was hoping to be able to thank the young scamp in person.”

“Escorted me!” cried Mary as she hugged her aunt and brushed past her and into the Gardiner's gaudy townhouse. “You know it was no such thing! He abducted me in a most nefarious manner and my dearest Pratt rescued me. Why Mr Darcy is here I cannot fathom at all - I think it has something to do with his undying regard for Lizzy or some such high-flying noble sentiment.”

“But Mr Wickham must be made marry you!” cried Mrs Gardiner. “Mr Darcy knows you were in the gentleman's company for longer than would be considered proper! He will not offer for Lizzy if you do not marry!”

“I shall marry,” said Mary, a smirk upon her face. “But I shan't marry Mr Wickham!”

Mrs Gardiner looked from Mary to Mr Darcy and back again. Then she squealed. “But this is better and better! You are to marry Mr Darcy! Lizzy had her chance to trap him and did not take it - you have certainly been ahead of the game, Mary. Your mother will be so proud!”

All during this effusion Pratt was standing, clenching and unclenching his hands, his face growing redder and redder. “I have never heard anything more outrageous!” he finally ejaculated. “She will not marry Mr Darcy.”

“No, of course not,” cried Darcy and Mary in unison.

“Mr Darcy! This is most ungracious of you,” wailed Mrs Gardiner. “You are responsible for the ruination of my niece!”

Mr Darcy was having trouble with Mrs Gardiner's logic, and was about to insist upon his innocence and wonder how his good intentions could have gone so terribly awry, when the door to the salon opened and Mr Gardiner peered out.

“This is not a matter to settle in the hallways,” he said. “The gentleman must come in here and face the girl's father.”

Pratt started forward, his anger evident upon his face, but Darcy put his hand on his arm to restrain him. “I think Mr Bennet will be brought to see reason if we stay levelheaded,” he whispered. “What the aunt and uncle think is really immaterial.”

“That is easy for you to say,” hissed Pratt. “You are not having your true love given to someone else out from under your nose!”

“Let me make one thing perfectly clear,” Darcy responded. “I have no desire to marry this particular Miss Bennet, and I will do everything within my power to ensure that you, and not me, are made her husband.”

Mary tittered and winked at Darcy, causing him to blush. “No disrespect, Miss Bennet,” Darcy almost stammered, “I just do not think we would suit.”

“Nor do I,” she said. “And in any case, if you were to marry me, who would be left to marry Lizzy? I should not wish that particular fate upon my darling Pratt.”

“I am certain that your sister will have any number of suitors, no matter who you marry,” said Darcy.

Mary gave him a superior smile and then rushed into the parlour, and threw herself at her father's feet. “I have been rescued, Papa,” she cried dramatically. “You must allow me to marry Lieutenant Pratt for he is the one who came to my aide with no thought to his own personal danger. I refuse to marry either Mr Wickham or Mr Darcy no matter what anyone says!”

“My goodness,” said Mr Bennet. “I had no idea there were so many gentlemen aspiring to your hand. In fact, I was under the impression it was you who abducted unfortunate Mr Wickham. The only way for this situation to be rectified is for you to marry the man purportedly responsible for your social downfall.”

“You cannot mean that, Papa!” she cried. “I am most sincerely devoted to Pratt and he to me - besides he has already proposed and I have accepted.”

“Well, you foolish girl, you should have thought of that before you ran off from a public place in the company of a different officer. Even your sister Lydia would not have made such a terrible mull of this as you have done.”

“Lydia has not the brains nor foresight to concoct such an elaborate plan as mine,” said Mary.

“Nor has she read as many off-colour novels as you,” responded her father. “Go upstairs and contemplate what your future will be, shackled to a man you have no love or respect for. If you have troubles imagining such a scenario, just cast your mind over your parents' marriage. That should be enough to put the fear of God into you. And if you desire reading materials, take Fordyce up with you. In fact - you are to read nothing but Fordyce for the next ten years.”

“Papa, you are too cruel!” sobbed Mary.

“Do not fret, Mary. If after that time your behaviour has improved, I will supply you with a moralizing novel or two. Now be off with you so that I may interview these gentlemen and make my final decision about whom you should marry.”

Mary reluctantly left the room. The Gardiners showed every indication of meaning to stay, but Mr Bennet looked at them pointedly and raised his eyebrows. “I have a delicate matter to discuss and require privacy with these gentlemen,” he said.

“Oh, but we know all, brother, and can provide valuable advice to you,” said Mrs Gardiner.

“And I can furnish the extra support you might need to convince the gentleman of his duty,” said Mr Gardiner, giving Darcy a meaningful glance and making as if to roll up his shirtsleeves.

“I know you both mean well,” said Mr Bennet, “but nevertheless, this is an interview and a decision that I intend to make on my own.” He stared at his relatives unflinchingly until they both got up from their chairs and left the room. “And no listening at the keyhole!”

“Mr Bennet,” said Pratt, surging forward, unable to wait another moment. “You must allow me to tell you how ardently . . .”

“Please, spare me your histrionics!” said Mr Bennet, throwing his hands up in the air. “I thought I had got rid of all the amateur thespians in the room. Won't you both sit and have a brandy with me?”

Darcy grabbed Pratt's arm and pulled him down upon the settee. Mr Bennet smirked at them both as he poured the brandy from a rather overly ornate crystal decanter. As he passed the glasses to the other two men, he said, “I fully understand why you are here, Lieutenant Pratt, but I am at a loss as to your involvement in the case, Mr Darcy.”

“Your daughter, Miss Elizabeth, was so distressed by the news of her sister's . . . elopement, that I sought to discover the runaways before any untoward damage was done.”

“Indeed. And what made you think that Pratt was not capable of the job?”

“I had no idea of his existence, sir!”

“Nor did any of us, it seems,” said Mr Bennet with a sigh. “I do hope you can keep an impressionable girl like my Mary in line.”

“Me, sir?” asked Darcy, his face draining of colour.

“You? You do not want to marry my Mary too do you, Mr Darcy?” Mr Bennet looked as if he were enjoying himself immensely.

“Not at all . . . not that she isn't a lovely girl, but I could never stand in the way of true love.”

“No, of course not,” said Mr Bennet. “Besides, I rather think my Lizzy would suit you better.”

“I have no intentions . . . I am not here to ask for the hand of any of your daughters, sir.”

“No? All that I have heard indicates otherwise. However we need not despair - there will be plenty of time for that at a later date. I am entirely at your leisure.”

“Sir!” said Pratt, “But what about Wickham? You told Ma - er - Miss Bennet that she must marry him.”

“Relax and drink your brandy,” said Mr Bennet. “After the torment she has put us all through, I thought she deserved to suffer a little anxiety herself. Of course you have my blessing - the thought of Wickham as a son in law is utterly repellent.” He leaned back and relaxed in his chair, savouring his drink. One gentleman hooked, and one nibbling at the lure. His wife would be pleased!

The next morning, Darcy went to the militia offices in London and requested two soldiers to accompany him to Younge Street. He realised that he need not go with them but he had a strong desire to see Wickham apprehended for dereliction of duty. And on top of that he wanted to ensure that the reprobate said nothing defamatory about Miss Bennet to his arresting officers.

The slatternly woman opened the door of number nineteen and smiled seductively at Darcy. “He's in the room just as you left him,” she said. “Though I admit that we did have some sport with him last night.”

Darcy nodded his thanks and then turned to the soldiers who had accompanied him. “If you would give me a few moments alone with Wickham, I will call you up when I need you.”

They assented and followed the woman to her lower parlour. She appeared very pleased with the turn of events - neither of them compared to the toff, but she knew she hadn't a chance with him from the outset.

Darcy climbed the stairs and pushed the broken door open. Wickham had risen to his knees at the sound.

“For the love of God release me!” he cried. “You will not get away with this! I have friends in high places.”

Darcy unwound the spangled shawl from Wickham's face. “You do?” he asked. “I should be pleased to know whom they may be.”

“Mr Darcy!” cried Wickham. “Thank the Lord! You have no idea how I have been used and abused.”

“I should say that you have come by your just desserts, then,” said Darcy.

“You have been misled. Mary Bennet took me from Brighton against my will.”

“I sincerely doubt that. I believe you went with her willingly. But your intent and hers seems to have differed drastically.”

“Insanity runs in her family - they are all out to ruin me in the eyes of the world.”

“I wonder why you are so intent upon casting aspersions against that family - especially one member of it. My eyes have been opened to you, Wickham. I know of all your past dealings with Miss Bennet and I can assure you that whatever friends you have in high places, I have friends in higher. Not one word against any member of the Bennet family will pass your lips again, or your life will not be worth living. If you tell anybody how you came to be here, you shall find yourself deported to the colonies faster than you can spit. Do you understand me?”

“Perfectly,” said Wickham. “Lizzy Bennet has enchanted you with her manifest charms. I wish you very happy.”

“Why cannot a gentleman perform a worthy task without everyone assuming that he is about to propose? Do you know what was my prime motivation for tracking you down? Miss Mary Bennet's reputation? Miss Elizabeth's concern for her family? No! It was the disgust at knowing that I had allowed a snivelling snake like you to influence my judgement. I am thoroughly ashamed that I let myself be taken in by you so easily, and I could not live with myself until I had seen you brought to justice. I have my pride, Wickham, and do not forget it!”

With that Darcy strode from the room, leaving Wickham still tied to the bedpost. He went downstairs and into the sleazy parlour where the woman was entertaining the officers with tankards of ale and tumblers of blue ruin.

“He is all yours,” Darcy said. As the soldiers made to get up, he added, “No need to rush - your prisoner isn't going anywhere. Enjoy your morning.”

With that he excused himself and went out into the street. He needed to walk a few blocks before he was able to take in any deep breaths. `Home to bathe,' he thought, `and then tomorrow back to Pemberley and sanity.'

Chapter Twenty-Two

Posted on Friday, 17 March 2006

Lizzy sat back in her bed and reflected upon how truly annoying her family really was. The evening had been pure torture. Mary and her new husband, Pratt, had returned from London, their marriage having taken place in short order. While she was happy that Mary had found true love and happiness, Lizzy was having difficulty forgiving her for the method in which she had achieved it. But more than that was the innuendo about herself and Mr Darcy that was part of any and all conversation.

How little they all knew! Lizzy had kept her embarrassing misunderstanding with Mr Darcy even from Jane, but she had in no way forgotten his reaction that evening nor his disgust at the idea of ever being paired with her. The suggestion that he was now about to propose to her was ludicrous.

While at Pemberley, and under the influence of Miss Bingley's persuasive plotting, Lizzy had almost thought that she and Mr Darcy could one day be able to meet as common and indifferent acquaintances - possibly even friends. But anything beyond that she had known to be impossible. And now, now that he knew just how silly and shallow her family truly was, from her sisters all the way to her outlandish aunt and uncle, he would be more apt to follow his sister's example and have nothing at all to do with them ever again.

She could hardly blame him. Even she had shown herself in a very bad light - exhibiting herself in a wet gown one day and then indulging in hysterics the next. Had he been attracted to her, which he had made quite clear was never the case, her unseemly behaviour would have nipped any tender feelings in the bud.

But through all of this he had shown himself to be nothing but kindness and consideration, so far removed from the unfeeling fashion follower she had always held him to be that she could not think of her former opinion of him but to blush and blush again. That he had taken it upon himself to scour the rudest districts of London to find her sister and preserve the honour of the entire family spoke of genuine, disinterested goodness.

Her family, in their usual way of jumping to unsubstantiated conclusions, had decided that he had done it for her. That he was head over ears in love! That they should any day see him riding up to their doorstep begging for the privilege of marrying her. Lizzy picked up a book and tossed it across the room. It was not to be borne, to be subjected to such humiliation day in and day out. He did not want her. And she was beginning to think she no longer wanted him, either. She was verily sick of his name. Lizzy clutched at her pillow and collapsed into sobs.

“Oh la!” cried Lydia, as she peered between the curtains. “Here comes Lizzy's beau now!”

Lizzy sat as if frozen, her embroidery needle had embedded itself in her finger at her sister's exclamation, but she was cognizant neither of the pain nor the droplets of blood that were ruining her sampler.

Kitty jumped up from her chair and joined Lydia at the window. “You are in need of spectacles! That is not Mr Darcy. I believe it is his friend. You know - the shy one who rented Netherfield Hall and broke Jane's heart with his indifference.”

Lydia scrunched her face up and leaned forward. “So it is! How very silly of me! Oh, let us have some fun with him Kitty, for there is little sport to be had here with the militia stuck in Brighton.”

The two sisters grabbed their bonnets and ran from the room amid an outbreak of giggles. Mrs Bennet smiled complacently and wished them luck in their endeavour. Jane's face was overspread with a deep blush. The look she gave Lizzy was filled with alarm and dismay. Lizzy was suddenly pressingly aware that her finger hurt like the dickens.

“I cannot see him!” hissed Jane. “Help me to escape upstairs.”

“Stay put,” said Lizzy. “All will be well.”

“But I want nothing of such a philanderer!” cried Jane. “You said yourself he was only playing with my heart. Well, if it is hearts he wants to play with, he is welcome to those of Kitty and Lydia!”

“But . . . I was wrong!” cried Lizzy desperately.

“Oh hush, both of you!” cried Mrs Bennet, and she craned her neck to see out the window to where Kitty and Lydia had ambushed Mr Bingley near the doorstep. “Your sisters are doing admirably. What does it matter which of you wins him, if the catch is brought in? Jane had her chance and lost it so the gentleman is fair game.”

“Mr Bingley means nothing to me!” cried Jane, as she ran from the room.

“You see, Lizzy?” said Mrs Bennet. “Jane wants nothing of him, as I had always expected. Mr Collins would have been perfect for her, but no - you had to introduce him to that conniving Charlotte Lucas!”

Lizzy opened her mouth to defend herself, but then realised it was just a waste of time. Meanwhile the door opened and a bemused Mr Bingley appeared, Lydia and Kitty pulling eagerly on both his arms.

“Miss Elizabeth!” he said. “Mrs Bennet! So very nice to see you again.” He allowed himself to be squished between the two youngest miss Bennets upon a settee and then looked about the room. “Are not all your daughters home?”

“One is lately married and settled at Purvis Lodge, though I have very serious concerns about the state of the attics,” said Mrs Bennet. “But you seem to be getting along charmingly with these two.”

“Married?” his face paled.

“It is my sister Mary who is married,” said Lizzy.

“Indeed, and it was announced so very ill!” cried Mrs Bennet. “No mention was made of the lace on her gown, not the fact that Mr Darcy stood groomsman.”

“Mr Darcy?” asked Bingley.

“Your friend!” cried Lydia. “Surely you have not forgotten him? He will soon be offering for our Lizzy - and that should throw us more often into the paths of other rich men.”

“Such as yourself!” giggled Kitty.

“I was unaware,” said Bingley. “You must accept my congratulations, Miss Elizabeth.”

“Indeed,” said Lizzy. “There is no reason for congratulation. My sisters are talking nonsense.”

“Lizzy - your modesty is not as refreshing as you think it,” said her mother, “and quite unnecessary in the company of such a good friend as Mr Bingley, for he must be well aware how lost in love his poor friend Mr Darcy is. Such a romance, do you not agree, Mr Bingley? Your friend running off to London like that to save our Mary and all because our dear Lizzy's heart was breaking. Young lovers!” she sighed and dabbed at her eyes with a lacy handkerchief.

Bingley looked slightly dazed and more than a tad confused. “Have you been talking to my sister?” he asked at last.

Kitty and Lydia laughed uproariously.

“You are such a wit!” cried Mrs Bennet. “Now tell us, young man, has your friend come to Netherfield with you? When should we expect him? I must tell cook to prepare all his favourite dishes, and yours too, of course. Do you like fish?”

“Mr Darcy is not with me,” said Bingley, glancing apologetically towards Lizzy. “But I did come here upon his recommendation. He assured me . . . and I had hoped . . . but . . . is not your other sister at home?”

“Jane is in her room, indisposed,” said Lizzy.

“Indisposed?” he asked, his face falling.

“Do not mind Jane!” cried Mrs Bennet. “She has quite lost her bloom - we have all been mistaken in her. I thought her beauty would be more lasting than that. But now it is nothing to the fresh, youthful vitality of Kitty and Lydia. Are they not the most delightful girls imaginable? Complexions unmarred by disappointments! Minds unspoiled by booklearning! You could not do better than to choose one of the two, though I admit the choice will not be an easy one.” Both girls primped and posed as she beamed upon them in admiration.

Bingley looked from one to the other, his expression evincing his growing desperation. “Quite. And happy will be the gentleman who manages to win them, but . . . Miss Elizabeth, what did you mean by indisposed?”

“No more than a slight headache,” she said reassuringly. “Nothing that a walk in the rose garden at about two o'clock this afternoon might not cure.”

“Indeed,” he said, brightening.

Lydia did not like the conversation reverting from herself and Kitty. Well, to tell the truth she did not mind it excluding Kitty all that much. But that they should speak of Jane who was clearly destined for the shelf was outside of enough. “I would do my best to make you happy,” Mr Bingley,” she purred, running her hands down his lapels. “You do want to be happy, do you not?”

He gulped. “Happiness is my whole reason for coming here.”

Lydia smiled complacently and stroked his lapels yet again.

Kitty crossed her arms and pouted. It was so unfair! Lydia always won. Not for the first time she wished she could act with the same wild abandon as her sister. But it never failed - as soon as she attempted to outdo Lydia she would feel that familiar tickling in her throat. Kitty kept her lips pressed tightly together and hoped at least that she could prevent herself from breaking out into a fit of coughing.

“Trout?” asked Mrs Bennet, still on a track all her own, “or haddock? Or what say you to eels? Cook has a way with eels that is uncommonly tasty. The secret is a mushroom sauce - chanterelles, not boletus, which have a much coarser, unrefined flavour. You will be dining with us tonight, of course?”

“I thank you for the invitation,” said Bingley. “I have a few more visits I am obliged to make in the neighbourhood today, but I will return in due course.” He stood, finally extricating himself from the clutches of Lydia, and took his leave quickly, with a meaningful glance at Lizzy as he departed the room.

“I do think that went very well indeed,” said Mrs Bennet, smiling indulgently upon Lydia. “You may be the youngest, my dear, but you certainly are in no way behindhand in the fine art of captivation. Jane could do well to take lessons from you. My brother Phillips has a clerk who I have been thinking might be convinced to take her, despite how haggard and pale she now looks.”

Lydia sat and smirked while Kitty finally gave in and broke into a fit of hacking so profound no one could have thought she did it only for her own amusement.

At precisely two o'clock, Bingley crept into the Bennet's rose garden. He fervently hoped that he had not misunderstood Miss Elizabeth when she had assured him her sister would be walking there for her health. He had been very careful not to be seen. Though he had once thought fending Miss Lydia off in the lane to be amusing, he could now see that giving her such an opportunity again would be his undoing. There was only one Miss Bennet he was interested in, and Lydia was not she.

Finally he spied Jane. She was sitting under an arbour overspread with trailing white roses. The blooms unleashed gentle fragrance into the warm summer air. Her gown was pale green and she blended in the dappled shade with the leaves and blossoms - more faerie now than angel.

As he tiptoed closer he noticed that she had changed. She was thin to a point of frailty - her skin pale like alabaster and pulled taut over the fine bones of her face. That she had recently gone through suffering was evident. Could it be Darcy was right? Had she cared for him all along? Was it truly only the interference of her sister that had separated them?

At least he knew Miss Elizabeth would no longer attempt to part them. Had she not ensured that this meeting took place? Unless . . . unless he was about to be rejected. He stopped, afraid to continue if the result of the encounter was to be the loss of all his dreams.

A moment later he had changed his mind again. What was the adage? Better to have tried and failed than not to have tried at all? That wasn't it! It was simply that here he was in her garden and he would feel completely silly if he were seen skulking out without having even attempted to speak with her.

“Miss Bennet?” he called out.

She looked up, her eyes big and dark in her wan face. “Mr Bingley!”

“May I sit with you?”

“I do not know. Will I be safe?”

The unaccustomed harshness in her expression and bitterness in her voice surprised him. “You were always safe with me,” he said, as he sat on the edge of the bench. “And you always will be.”

“Did you enjoy your time with my sisters this morning?” Jane continued. “I believe I am soon to wish you and Lydia happy.”

“Never.”

“So, you are just enjoying yourself at their expense as you did with me?”

“I did not enjoy myself with you . . . that is, I mean to say, I did enjoy myself with you, but . . . not at your expense.”

“Then why was I the one to pay the price?” A tear slipped down Jane's cheek.

Bingley was immediately on his knees by her side, grasping her hands in his. “It was all a misunderstanding. I thought - I thought you did not love me. My sister invited you to London, and you refused to come. She wrote to you, and you did not answer her letters. I discovered that you were in London for months without even seeking me out. I visited your aunt's home only to be told you had no wish to see me. If anyone should be accusing the other of playing with hearts, it should be me - but Darcy told me . . .”

Jane stiffened and tried to pull her hands away. “He told you what? He knows nothing of the matter. How can he? And yet, he has recently shown a tendency to meddle in my family's affairs.”

“When your sister was in Kent, so too was Mr Darcy. Did she not tell you?”

“My sister has many secrets, it would seem.”

“He . . . accused her of standing in the way of our love.”

“My sister?”

“Did she not advise you against me?”

“She told me that your intent was only to make a conquest and discard me.”

“And you believed her? I came to you with my heart in my hands. Could you not have trusted in me?”

“I wanted to, but she was so certain. I know nothing of the world and the ways of men.”

“All men are not the same.”

“No,” said Jane, and sighed. “I feel such a fool. I wish I could think the best of people, but sometimes I have such a suspicious mind.”

“I promise never to give you any cause to suspect me.”

“A promise you shall find hard to keep with my sister Lydia about. So - what more did Mr Darcy tell you?”

Bingley thought back to that complicated and confusing talk with Darcy. Something to do with Elizabeth Bennet kissing him ardently and unabashedly. That, he decided, he ought not repeat to Jane Bennet. “He told me that you love me and sent me to the house in Gracechurch Street, where I was rebuffed.”

“That was my aunt's doing, not mine!” cried Jane. “I missed you so much by that time I would have fallen at your feet at the sight of you.”

“And yet today . . .”

“I'd had more time to think - to give you up. I saw a sister happily married and no prospect for myself. When I heard you had come and my youngest sisters ran out to tempt you, I wanted no part of the contest.”

“There was never any contest - my heart has been yours from the moment of our first meeting.”

Jane smiled shyly and averted her eyes. “So, were you going to ask me anything particular today, or did you only come to the garden to seduce me?”

Bingley brought both her hands to his lips. “If you promise to be my wife,” he whispered, “I shall have a lifetime in which to seduce you. Why should I settle for one afternoon in your parents' rose garden?”

“If that is the case,” said Jane, a new light shining in her eyes, “I do not think I have any objection to seduction, in fact, I find that I am quite looking forward to it.”

Bingley sat up on the bench beside her and pulled her into his arms. He ran one hand down her back as he brought his lips close to hers.

Jane put her hand out and stayed his mouth with her fingers. “After we are married, of course,” she whispered coyly, and wriggled to her feet. “Come, I believe now is the time to speak with my father.”

Bingley attempted to pull himself together as they walked hand in hand to the library door, all the time thinking how best he could convince her father that a special licence and speedy wedding were in order. He was later to discover that the father was not going to be his major obstacle, but the mother and her insistence on all the pomp and pageantry that had been missing from Mary's runaway marriage.

---