Chapter Four

Posted on: 2010-02-22

The carriage ride seemed unbearably long. Elizabeth had thought too much about what she should wear, and now could not even recall what she spent hours choosing, as she looked out the window. It frightened her to think what it would be like to see him again, after one month. The questions that she troubled over the night of the accident, had tripled since, and she had absolutely no answers, only fears that they would always go unexplained and unexplored. Fears that his dark eyes would be severe, and worse of all, fears that by seeing him again, she would think of him even more, and that was not to be borne.

Jane squeezed her hand as they pulled in front of the great house.

Caroline and Louisa stood reluctantly without a hint of a smile, when the Miss Bennets were shown into the drawing room. Mr. Bingley practically bounded over to greet the two ladies. Elizabeth could see the sisters exchange disapproving glances.

As Bingley invited them to sit, Elizabeth quickly scanned the room, was able to find Mr. Darcy standing up very straight, near a window. He had a cane in his left hand, and his brow appeared healed. He bowed immediately when their eyes met, and she smiled and curtsied in return. She moved toward her seat, her pulse beating loudly in her ears.

"Miss Bennet, Miss Elizabeth, I would like you to introduce my sister, Georgiana, to you."

A slight girl of sixteen got up from the pianoforte and walked to stand next to Mr. Darcy. They had the same coloring and shape of eyes. Georgiana seemed awkward and did not look up for more than a second at a time. The Miss Bennets curtsied, as did Miss Darcy.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Darcy," Elizabeth said with great sincerity. Jane added, "Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst have nothing but kind things to say about you."

Miss Darcy blushed and looked up at her brother who nodded encouragingly. "It is a great pleasure to meet both of you. I have been looking forward to it, especially since I heard of the great service Miss Elizabeth rendered my brother."

Elizabeth immediately glanced at Mr. Darcy, while Caroline coughed to hide an obvious laugh.

"I am not certain if it was a 'great' service, Miss Darcy. I was simply taking a walk, and was able to extend the walk to Netherfield Park to fetch help," she modestly replied.

Mr. Darcy halfway smiled, and the ladies took their seats. He wanted to beg to differ. He wanted to let Elizabeth know just how much he appreciated everything she had done for him, but he could not take that liberty in this company.

For weeks Darcy was forced to hear Caroline's running commentary on Elizabeth's fine eyes, now paired with her shocking lack of propriety in walking by herself again, and then having the nerve to run across Darcy in his injured state. She declared it "unrefined and coarse" that Elizabeth would take it upon herself to do the work of a surgeon, and tend to his wound. Bingley asked his sister if she rather Darcy was left exposed to the elements and bled to death, but Caroline only laughed, and claimed that someone more appropriate would have found him, and they would not have run off wearing his riding coat.

So Darcy remained quiet, but he watched her. He could not help himself. He owed her so much, but he knew not how to repay her. It was almost physically painful for him to see her, and not to be forthright with her.

"How do you like Hertfordshire, Miss Darcy?" Elizabeth politely questioned.

Once again, Georgiana glanced over at her brother before she answered. "I haven't seen any of it but Netherfield, Miss Elizabeth. I am quite happy to stay here with my brother."

"I am afraid that I haven't let my sister out of my sight, Miss Elizabeth. She is not one for villages and shops, and I really do enjoy listening to her play," Mr. Darcy explained.

Her heart jumped when he spoke to her, but she kept calm on the outside. "Oh, I certainly hope that we can hear you play before we leave today," Elizabeth enthused. She tried not to look at Mr. Darcy who was definitely looking at her.

"If you wish, Miss Elizabeth, but you must play and sing," Miss Darcy bravely answered. "For I understand that you can do both, and quite well."

Once again, a cough came from the couch where the contemptuous sisters lounged.

Little Georgiana's fingers expertly flew across the keys as the rest of the party kept busy. Mr. Hurst played with his cufflinks, while Louisa and Caroline whispered, and shot furtive glances at their brother and Jane, who were sitting close together in each other's confidence.

Elizabeth now found herself sitting across from Mr. Darcy. Lunch had been torturous, not because of the offending sisters, since that was expected. Nor was it because of the questionable fatty meat they were served, since young Bertram Gardiner did indeed go missing after breakfast. No, lunch was miserable because she was seated nowhere near Mr. Darcy. They could not have been placed further apart. Caroline was an efficient hostess. Elizabeth longed to talk with him, even if it was only on the subject of the weather. Was the man she saw briefly under the oak just a temporary result of the knock to his scull, or was Mr. Darcy capable of charm and compassion? Elizabeth did not know, and was even more afraid she would get no answers today. She did take solace in the fact that she sat next to Georgiana, and found her to be sweet, and eager to be friends.

She now had her opportunity, but Darcy looked grave as he watched his sister, and did not incline his head in her direction at all. Elizabeth thought this was proof that he was angry with her for her breech of contract. She could only think of how much more his anger would have been compounded when he found that his coat was left behind. Elizabeth tried several times while Georgiana played to find something to say to him, but the subjects that came to mind seemed either too trivial now, or too personal, and she was pained for it. Inside she chastised herself. "Say something! Anything! He will think you are dull and stupid, in addition to horribly stubborn and a liar!"

Unbeknownst to Elizabeth, Darcy struggled much in the same manner, but with much more favorable notions. He had wrestled the past few weeks to keep thoughts of her in check, since he did not have as many distractions, with his activities severely restricted. He honestly thought he would go insane if he were not able to set eyes on her and to hear her voice once again, but having her here now, so close, and looking even more beautiful then he had let his mind recall, had him completely off balance.

He wanted to speak with her, and even though he was not afraid that "merciful angel," or "rain soaked goddess" would escape his lips, he did not know how to say anything to her that would not sound distant or inane. Making things even worse, lavender and rose reached his senses, bringing back that day in the rain even more vividly. He had no such excuse as a massive head wound to blame on any unintentional utterances anymore, so he sat staring at his sister, his mouth closed tight, but his head and lungs filled with Elizabeth, who was close enough to touch.

"Miss Elizabeth," Bingley called from across the room, "If I remember correctly, you had something particular to convey to Mr. Darcy." Bingley smiled widely, as his sisters looked from their brother over to Elizabeth. They clamped their steely gazes on her.

Elizabeth was startled, but this was the exact opportunity she needed. For the first time, she thought Bingley a very clever man.

"Oh, yes." She turned to face Mr. Darcy who looked at her with a somber face, but with something very different behind his eyes. She hesitated, fearing those eyes, but continued as the whole room now waited for her.

"Mr. Darcy, I feel the need to apologize for breaking my promise to warm myself at Netherfield, sir, and to assure you that I did not succumb to a cold from the weather."

Mr. Darcy could see that her eyes were cornflower blue today, like the delicate ribbon around her tiny waist. He took a breath, and his countenance melted into an easy, yet sly smile.

"I have to admit, Miss Elizabeth, that I doubted your sincerity when you so easily changed your mind." How he loved to say her name. How it lingered on his lips.

Surprised, but relieved, Elizabeth returned the smile. "You could have kept me out in the cold rain for a half hour more arguing your point, so I decided I could be home and warm at Longbourn far quicker, if I agreed with you."

"Adversus solem ne loquitor," he said with the same smile. "Speak not against the sun?"

Elizabeth looked up at him and caught a small glimmer from his deep eyes. "Exactly, sir."

"Yes, but who is the sun this time?" the gentleman posed.

Finally! Elizabeth was thrilled that the ice was broken. Darcy's eyebrow was lifted, waiting for her response, and she was just about to, when Caroline interrupted.

"That was very ungenerous of you, Miss Eliza, to lie to Mr. Darcy's face like that. Quite distasteful. I have to say that I will think twice before I believe anything else you say," Caroline jabbed. She and Louisa shared a glance of victory before the former fixed her triumphant gaze back on Elizabeth.

"You look very lovely today, Miss Bingley," Elizabeth simply replied with a sweet smile, and then smoothed her dress beneath her.

Almost every occupant in the room, including Georgiana stifled a smile. And the cufflink absorbed Mr. Hurst, actually looked up at Elizabeth in surprise, and laughed out loud.

Louisa shot him a look that could have taken down an elephant, but Bingley's good port was making her husband immune to any weapon she formed against him.

Darcy, who was just about ready to defend Elizabeth, smiled the widest. He was besotted. Not only was Elizabeth mythical in his eyes, she was strong, intelligent, lovely, and was most likely, not aware of any of it.

He wished more than anything that he could close the gap between them, and promise never to leave her side again. The weeks he spent convalescing without being able to see her, had altered him. How could such a short acquaintance make such a tremendous chasm in his heart? He now nurtured a new hope, that he could see much more of her, and that she would soon end his suffering.

Louisa started to complain about how late it was getting, and both Jane and Elizabeth knew that they were in danger of overstaying their welcome--at least where the superior sisters were concerned. Bingley could not bear any talk of them leaving, but Jane encouraged him to come by Longbourn the next day, for the long walk they had talked about.

Elizabeth was crestfallen. Even though they had that one little moment in the proverbial sun, Darcy seemed distant and distracted, although she did find him looking at her frequently. How would she ever be able to truly talk with this man again without several pairs of eyes and ears fixed on them? She simply would have to lie in wait on some lonely patch of road, and suddenly push him off his horse when he was not looking. She had already scampered about the landscape, quite alone and soaked through, wearing Mr. Darcy's riding coat. This seemed like a logical follow up. Elizabeth managed a smile at the very thought.

Caroline broke Elizabeth's revelry and wished her a good day, although her face said something completely different. Caroline turned her back and quickly walked away, while Elizabeth and Jane were helped into their carriage by Mr. Bingley. Mr. Darcy was unable to manage the stairs without help, so he and Georgiana said their farewells inside. Elizabeth had glanced at him once more before she quit the room, and was not sure if he looked toward her or not. And now they were leaving. And that would have to be good enough.

Jane did not require any conversation on the carriage ride home, so Elizabeth was left to ponder how to quell her great disappointment, and wonder if she would ever sleep again.

Anticipating their arrival back at Longbourn, was their Aunt Gardiner, only six years Jane's senior. Mr. Gardiner was Mrs. Bennet's younger brother by eleven years. He was a very successful young businessman in London, owning a lucrative import business, and Mrs. Gardiner was his very beautiful and stylish bride. They married when she was but seventeen. All the Bennet girls considered Mrs. Gardiner as more of an older sister than an aunt, and save Mary, looked forward to their aunt's fashion reports and catalogs from London. Apparently long sleeves were coming back in style for daywear.

Not being able to help having favorite nieces, since the other three were universally regarded as silly, Mrs. Gardiner grew very close to Jane and Elizabeth. She was particularly anxious to hear about the luncheon, since she had sharp eyes and a notion that Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth were attached in some manner beyond anyone else's suspicion. She did her best to find out any bit of information, but found Lizzy uncharacteristically dull, and Jane only able to discuss Mr. Bingley and the food. She would have to wait and observe herself, which was not possible, with the fact that the Gardiners would be leaving in just three days.

Elizabeth did make a promise to call on Georgiana, and fulfilled it two days later. Fortunately, Louisa and Caroline made excuses and retired to another part of the house, but unfortunately, the gentlemen had taken the carriage to Meryton. As they found themselves alone, Elizabeth ignored her disappointment at not being able to see Mr. Darcy, and suggested a walk. Georgiana was happy to oblige since she had been no farther than the park. They donned their bonnets and Elizabeth took her down one of her favorite paths.

Although the weather was cool and crisp, the sun was high and bright, and it felt exhilarating to stir out of doors while the weather held. Every few minutes Elizabeth would take Georgiana's hand and they would run together for a small stretch, and then laugh heartily, as though they were getting away with something quite appalling. Elizabeth assured her that the exertion was more important than decorum, and besides, there was no injury to decorum, if no one was around to witness them breaking it.

The two were all over the countryside, on and off of paths, talking all the while. Georgiana turned out to be an intelligent, curious girl, and Elizabeth was making great progress in getting her to express her feelings on various topics. One of Georgiana's favorite topics was her brother, which Elizabeth did not mind spending time on. It was natural to idealize a brother who was ten years her senior, but sometimes Elizabeth felt that Georgiana held him in unrealistic god-like esteem. She painted him as too good, as too kind, and too generous for believability. Such a person could not exist, and could not be the same gentleman who may or may not be looking for faults in Elizabeth, and certainly could not be the same man that Wickham claimed he was.

Elizabeth pondered this, as they found themselves very near to where she had found Mr. Darcy just a few weeks prior. Elizabeth had not been there since. She could almost smell the rain, the wet earth and leaves, and his heavy wool coat. How she wished she could revisit it all without the injury.

At that moment, a carriage crested at the top of the hill, and came down their way. The pair moved to the grass to let it pass, but Elizabeth recognized it as belonging to Mr. Bingley. Elizabeth's heart picked up in beat as she anticipated who might be inside. They smiled as the carriage slowed to a stop. The door swung open, and a very red faced Mr. Darcy appeared in the doorway. Elizabeth had never seen an expression like that on his face, in their entire acquaintance. Both Elizabeth and Georgiana stared at him, shocked.

"Georgiana! What are you doing out here? I told you never to stir away from Netherfield," he thundered.

Poor Georgiana stood, unable to move or speak for a few seconds. Elizabeth's eyes moved between the siblings trying to make sense of the moment. Finally, with tears rolling down her face, Georgiana answered. "I am sorry brother, I thought that it would be safe to be with Miss Elizabeth."

Mr. Darcy's eyes softened slightly as he saw the distress he was causing his sister. He tried to lighten the tenor of his voice, although once it came out, he could hear that it was still very stern.

"It certainly is not safe. Please step into the carriage and I will take you back."

Georgiana immediately jumped into the carriage without even looking back at Elizabeth, and disappeared behind her brother's much larger frame.

Frozen, Elizabeth continued to stare wide-eyed at Darcy, as he tried to change his countenance. He was the devil himself, she thought, controlling and frightening that poor creature, who did nothing but love and worship him. Wickham was right! All of Hertfordshire was right. Mr. Darcy was not only proud and unpleasant; he was cruel and unforgiving. Elizabeth was now sure that Georgiana praised him so highly, only because she was afraid of him. Hateful man! She wanted nothing more than to be out of his presence.

Darcy could see the horror in Elizabeth's face, and realized how he must have come across. He did everything in his power to calm himself and to look kindly at her. What must she think of me? He would not be able to explain his behavior, especially in front of Georgiana, but he needed to made amends quickly.

"Miss Elizabeth, we can take to you back to Longbourn if you would like," he offered in a different, calmer voice.

Elizabeth's face thawed, but she glared back at him. "No thank you, sir. I prefer to walk."

Darcy's heart sank. Her beautiful eyes were not fire; they were ice. Cold and steely. How could he rectify this?

"It would be my great pleasure to see you home safely," he managed a smile this time. Please Elizabeth. Please, my love… you have no idea what I am about.

And then she noticed him look past her to the oak tree where they both sought shelter from the rain. He looked back at her with almost pleading eyes, but something new burned in Elizabeth's chest. And though she could not put a name to it, it was not anything resembling what the cold shivering Elizabeth dressed in a gentleman's riding coat felt.

"As I said, Mr. Darcy, I prefer to walk. I thank you for your kindness." Elizabeth curtsied and turned on her heel, wanting to be free of his gaze. Needing to be as far away from him as she could manage.

Elizabeth almost burst into the parlor at Longbourn where her aunt, mother, Mary, Jane, and her young cousin Sara were having tea.

"Lizzy!" her dear aunt exclaimed. "Is everything all right?"

Elizabeth took stock and managed to check herself. She made herself breath and tried not to look desperate.

"I am sorry." She looked around the room and stopped at her aunt. "It is just that I had the most happy thought, Aunt! I know that you originally had asked Jane to accompany you home tomorrow, but most thought it best for her to stay, to…" She glanced over at Jane who looked a bit surprised, "to see how things might turn out here."

"Yes, we know what you mean, Miss Lizzy, get on with it," her mother added impatiently.

"Well, I was hoping that I could take Jane's place and accompany you to London. I long to have a change in scenery, Aunt, and I will be a big help with all my young cousins." Sara's eyes lit up.

"Oh, Mama, could Lizzy please come with us?"

Mrs. Gardiner looked puzzled, but was not about to keep her favorite from accompanying her home. This would be the perfect opportunity to find out just what was going on in that sweet, stubborn girl's head.

"Certainly, Lizzy. We would love you to come, that is, if your mama could spare you."

"Oh, Lizzy is of no consequence to me," complained the lady. "She thinks nothing of throwing away perfectly good marriage proposals, which is the same as throwing us all out in the cold upon her father's death. It is a good thing that Jane takes her duties more seriously." Mrs. Bennet scowled at Elizabeth. "Mr. Bingley visits almost every day," and then she turned to Jane, who had ducked her head in embarrassment. "I knew you could not be so beautiful for nothing, my dear!"

Elizabeth finished packing and sat down to write a note to Georgiana.

Dearest Georgiana,

Elizabeth Bennet

Jane entered the room as Elizabeth was folding the letter.

"Lizzy, what will I do without you?"

Elizabeth looked over at her. "You sound like Father. But I know I will hardly be missed by you, at least." She put the letter down and grabbed Jane's hands.

"Dearest Jane, I know he will propose while I am gone, and I am very sorry to miss it, but I must get away from here."

"Won't you tell me what happened?" Jane asked sweetly.

"Nothing happened, and nothing will ever happen, Jane." Jane looked like she wanted to say something, but Elizabeth continued. "Whether or not he was admiring me or finding fault, Jane, I do not think I like the man at all."

Lydia burst into the room, without so much as a knock. "Wickham and Denny are here! They wanted to make sure to see you before you left, Lizzie! What luck to be singled out like that! Hurry, for they only have a quarter of an hour." Lydia was gone as fast as she entered.

Elizabeth and Wickham walked together in the garden while Lydia and Kitty entertained Denny.

"I am sorry I haven't been visiting as much of late," he offered.

"I understand that there is a good reason," she quipped, and Wickham was not sure if she was teasing or accusing.

"Colonel Forster relies on me for many things these days," was his excuse.

She looked over at him wondering if any of the rumors were true about him. For there were more whispers than just fortune hunting. There were supposed unpaid debts and gambling, but Elizabeth knew how much the good people of Meryton loved a good story. She remembered thinking that his looks added to his believability at one time, not long ago, but was not sure if she trusted herself at all where handsome young men were concerned anymore.

"I understand that you have met Miss Darcy," he added cautiously.

"Yes, she is staying at Netherfield Park, and I have had the great pleasure of getting to know her."

The gentleman looked uncomfortable. "Did you find her proud?"

Elizabeth shook her head. "Not at all. In fact, I found her quite shy, but perfectly amiable."

"Oh." Wickham ducked his head. "She must have improved in the past few years."

Wickham quickly changed the subject, and they talked of London and other matters that did not have to do with the name Darcy. Elizabeth felt relieved as he took his leave. Yes, he was handsome. Yes, he was charming, but there was something amiss. It was certainly time to get away from Hertfordshire, and all handsome young men she associated with it.

Chapter Five

Posted on: 2010-02-26

He did not care that he could not stir from the carriage, Darcy only wanted a change in scenery. Any change. If two bushes near the terrace, would have switched places in the middle of the night, he would have spent the day gawking. Netherfield was becoming insufferable to him--his own personal prison. Only the promise of Elizabeth calling on Georgiana, gave that great house any measure of appeal to him at this point. Yet, she did not come yesterday, and it seemed she might not come today. It was getting late for calls, and Darcy was getting anxious.

"Darcy, my new rifle has arrived," Bingley exclaimed, as he read the note from the gunsmith. He looked up at his friend. "I am to head off to Meryton, directly, to get it. Are you up for a bumpy carriage ride?"

It surprised Darcy how much a strange tree, and unfamiliar hill could lift his spirits. It reminded him of his tour on horseback, before his fall. Though he had to smile at his appreciation now. His hunger for any scenery was so voracious, that he was near to saying it was the most beautiful terrain he has ever beheld. But he held his tongue, and continued to appreciate the view. They were in Meryton in no time.

Bingley and Mr. Hurst jumped out to visit the gunsmith, and Darcy sat back in the carriage, to take in the sounds and smells of the little shire. How wonderful it was to stir out of doors.

Voices, carriages and horses came and went. It was pleasant to hear the bustle of a little town, after such dead quiet the past month. Even a infant's distant cry, which would have annoyed him previously, sounded surprisingly pleasant, as he pictured its mother calming him, and cooing in his ear.

Minutes ticked by, and Darcy settled in. He did not pay much attention to any one voice in particular, that was until a very familiar voice caught his ear.

"I do not care what the Colonel says."

"You will care, when he uses you to set an example for the rest of us, Wickham."

"Hang the Colonel! I am sick of this damn place, and I am sick of cards for the moment. And there are not pretty enough ladies out here, who will entreat me to stay. Let us go find some. The countryside is full of pretty little maidens. Maybe we will happen upon a milkmaid with her cans overflowing."

Coarse laughter was heard from at least two others.

"Of course, we could call on the Miss Bennets. There are always two or three that are eager to welcome us," enthused Wickham.

"Miss Lydia is the most obliging," added another, his voice thick with implication.

More laughter.

"Yes, God bless the young ones, who know no better," said the villain.

"Aye, I will drink to that."

The conversation made Darcy's pulse quicken, and his face grew hot. "God bless the young ones, indeed!" He thought about showing his face at that moment, and possibly making use of his cane, but the voices suddenly moved on. The door to the carriage opened, producing Bingley, Mr. Hurst, and a shiny new hunting rifle.

Wickham managed to spoil the entire ride back for Darcy. He could not enjoy the landscape. The hills, the trees, and the clouds went by, but his thoughts were of Georgiana, and how only Providence kept her from eloping with that venomous snake. Yet he was still out there, coiled and ready to strike.

Once back at Netherfield Park, the gentlemen were informed that Miss Darcy and Miss Bennet went on a walk.

Without hesitation, Darcy jumped back into the carriage to find them. And everything went wrong from there. Very wrong.

And now, Elizabeth was miles away, and all he could see was her horrified face.

London was diverting, just as Elizabeth had hoped. The Gardiner's had a lovely and stylish home on Gracechurch Street, outfitted expensively, but tastefully. Even though her uncle was in trade, the fortune he had amassed put him in the good graces of many among the ton. In turn, he and the beautiful Mrs. Gardiner were welcomed into some very exclusive circles.

Mrs. Gardiner encouraged Elizabeth to accompany her on her many calls, to introduce Elizabeth to those who mattered. Her aunt was wise, and knew this was the only way Elizabeth would be invited to the foremost balls. Elizabeth was, after all, a gentleman's daughter. Her aunt also insisted on having new clothes made for her during her stay. And Elizabeth would have the very best, Mrs. Gardiner avowed.

At the dressmakers, Elizabeth had choices of many sumptuous fabrics. Her aunt would not let her stray from the silks and satins for the ball and evening gowns. Three new dresses were to be made for her in the very latest fashion.

Mademoiselle Adele, with her thick French accent, grabbed some deep emerald green silk that Elizabeth was admiring, and wrapped it around her, and swept her toward a mirror.

"Oui! Zees is you," she declared. "Zee gown I make from zees, will be mageecal."

The tremendously large and buxom lady, with unnaturally bright ginger hair, piled very high on her head, leaned over and looked directly into Elizabeth's eyes. Besides her vast cleavage, which was eye level with Elizabeth, the lady's face was powdered, her lips rouged, and she had three beauty spots placed strategically on her face. The largest one was barely clinging by a long hair above her lip, and it bounced with every word Mademoiselle Adele uttered.

Elizabeth could not but help glance over at her aunt, who suppressed a smile. Eight-year-old Sara was allowed to join them, having begged Elizabeth in private that morning. She stood next to her mama, with her eyes wide open, gaping at Mademoiselle--not helping Lizzy maintain control one bit.

The lady continued. "You will call your beloved to you, when you wear zees." She brought the silk up to Elizabeth's eyes, and she lowered her voice.

"For he will be drawn to you, and will find you, no matter where you go," she stated reverently and resolutely, as if it were written in stone. As if she read it from the Old Testament, closed the holy book, and a boys' choir sang "amen" to seal it.

Elizabeth did not know what to say to this, so she simply nodded, and thought about the letter that she must write to her father.

"I am nev-air wrong about zees," Mademoiselle added with a wink.

Mademoiselle Adele then grinned, and all her yellowing teeth gleamed. Her bosoms heaved. The beauty spot nodded in turn, and Elizabeth knew not where to rest her eyes. She could see her aunt from the corner of her eye, turn and cover her mouth, while Sara still gaped. And Elizabeth wished for the first time, that her inclination bent toward drawing, because words alone would not do Mademoiselle justice.

The days went by, and Elizabeth did her duties. She let her aunt dress her with graciousness, and made conversation with perfectly coiffed and overly jeweled strangers. But she was never quite content, until she was alone with a book, or a letter from Jane in her room. And she tried not to think of him, and poor Georgiana's tears, and how unsettled her own heart was. She tried. Oh, how she tried.

Elizabeth looked at herself in the mirror, as Trina finished with her hair. It was as if she was facing a stranger, who resembled herself, but was much more refined.

"Do you like it, Miss Bennet?" Trina asked confidently, reading her face. "You look very beautiful."

"Yes, Trina. But I hardly recognize myself," she admitted.

"I can make a sketch, Miss, if you would like, to show your maid at home how to sweep your hair over like this," Trina offered.

Elizabeth smiled at the thought of Betsy trying to recreate the intricate curls, and could only think of how much hair she would actually lose in the process--either pulled out with a comb, or burned off with the curling iron. "Oh, that will not be necessary, Trina. Thank you, though."

Trina smiled. "I will be right back with your gown." She curtsied, and left Elizabeth alone with the exquisite creature looking back at her. Elizabeth was not one to fuss about her looks, but for once, she could see how the skilled hands of a good maid could make such a difference.

In a matter of a minute, Trina was back with Elizabeth's new ball gown. It was deep burgundy silk, cut lower than she was comfortable with--all Mademoiselle Adele's gowns were cut too low for Elizabeth's liking--but was promised ample lace.

Elizabeth stepped into it, while Trina pulled it up and tucked, pinned and sewed her in. The color of the gown complimented Elizabeth's fair complexion and deep chestnut hair, and Elizabeth could not help but to be pleased with such an elegant dress, and as always, wondered how Jane would look in it.

"The gentlemen will be looking at only you tonight, Miss," Trina said as she pulled tight. Elizabeth's lungs emptied, but other parts of her almost spilled out.

"Trina! This is too much!" Elizabeth was almost panicked.

"Do not worry, Miss, that is what the lace is for," she explained. But Elizabeth could only see her overexposure, and blushed.

Trina finished with all the ties and fastens, and then brought the lace over, which calmed Elizabeth down, once it was in place. She wished that Jane could see her, for Jane would laugh with her, and put her at ease. She would know no one at the ball, besides a few married women whom she met calling with her aunt, yet she was determined to be diverted.

Introductions were made, and Elizabeth was immediately asked to dance by the grandson of a Mrs. Boyle, whom Elizabeth had met two days prior. Mrs. Boyle had taken her hand and declared her a dear, pretty thing, and then lamented, more than once, that Elizabeth was worth only one thousand pounds after her mother's death, and then seemed disappointed that Mrs. Bennet would most likely live a very long time.

Mrs. Boyle recovered from her disappointment, and promised Mrs. Gardiner that she would procure Elizabeth dancing partners, and she was true to her word. Elizabeth had a suspicion that Mrs. Boyle, while busy finding partners for her, was also liberal with the unfortunate news of her measly inheritance, and the healthy state of both her parents.

Her first partner was a good dancer, though not very handsome. He was kind, clearly admiring, and offered her punch after their set, and talked of London, and what she had seen and done during her visit. Elizabeth's second partner was quite tall, and tolerably handsome she thought. He was not as talkative, which was fine with Elizabeth, since it gave her the opportunity to look at the other couples while they were dancing, but he did look at her lace more than she was comfortable with. There were many pretty and elegant young women there, but thanks to Trina, and Mademoiselle Adele, Elizabeth did not feel that she did not belong.

Elizabeth sat next to her aunt before the third set was to start. Mrs. Boyle bustled over with a handsome gentleman, with sparkling dark eyes and a ready smile.

"Miss Bennet, this is Colonel Fitzwilliam," the lady pronounced.

The gentleman's smile widened, and he bowed. "It would do me a great honor if you would dance with me, Miss Bennet. If you are not otherwise engaged."

Happy with the partner presented before her, Elizabeth smiled. "No sir, I am not engaged." She thought that his eyes reminded her of someone, but she could not place it.

Colonel Fitzwilliam put out his gloved hand and Elizabeth took it. They made their way to the dance floor and found a place among the couples. The Colonel's smile did not falter, and the music started.

"Is it impertinent of me to say how relieved I was to see you, after I promised Mrs. Boyle blindly that I would dance with her pretty little friend?" Elizabeth looked over at him as they danced. "For I am afraid she is far too lenient with the word 'pretty,' and I was preparing for the worse," he continued.

Elizabeth only smiled as she circled behind him, and then took his hand once more before he spoke again. "As much as I am relieved, I have to say that I was also surprised, for I saw you earlier, and did not think that the prettiest lady at this ball would have a free dance."

Elizabeth did not meet his eyes, but smiled slightly, and continued with the dance.

"Colonel Fitzwilliam, do you jot these things down ahead of time, or do they come upon you at will?"

The Colonel laughed out loud. "You accuse me of being insincere, Miss Bennet?"

"I accuse you of nothing. I only ask if your sincerity is studied or spontaneous," the lady said teasingly. "I've recently become a student of compliments aimed at young ladies."

"Indeed? Well, let me assure you that no other ladies have been the object of my sincerity this evening… studied or spontaneous." This time, he circled behind her.

"And may I add, from our brief conversation, I can assure you that my sincerity will stay with you for the duration of the night." He then found her face. "You may study that, Miss Bennet."

Touché! He took her hand once again, and she smiled fully. This was exactly what she was looking for, but had not dared to hope--a handsome and agreeable partner who could keep up with her. They continued to dance, and since it was the dinner set, the dashing young Colonel was her escort to dinner. And just as Elizabeth had wished, she was excessively diverted.

"Colonel Fitzwilliam paid you a great compliment by asking you to dance twice, Lizzy," her aunt commented on the carriage ride home. "And you two talked quite a deal at dinner. I understand he comes from a great family, although he is not the eldest."

Elizabeth smiled. "Colonel Fitzwilliam, eldest or not, was very kind to ask me for a second set, Aunt, but I am certain it was only to prove a point."

"I do not understand, Lizzy."

"Colonel Fitzwilliam told me that I was the prettiest lady at the ball, and I challenged his sincerity."

Her aunt smiled knowingly. "Lizzy, you are far too clever for your own good. You should not be daring young men to prove themselves to you. The way you looked tonight, there could have been duels breaking out all over."

Elizabeth laughed without reserve. The thought of anyone dueling over her was most absurd. "Aunt! You know me better than that. Please do not accuse me of such things."

"Ah, but it was nice to see you smiling and enjoying yourself, my dear. I have been more than concerned for you. You have not been yourself for weeks now, and it has pained me to see it," her aunt noted.

"I thank you for taking me to London with you, Aunt. I think I shall be myself soon."

More time passed, as Elizabeth settled into a pleasant routine with the Gardiners. She was allowed to read more, and spent less time going on calls with her aunt, now that she was generally known. She even found her way to their pianoforte in the drawing room, and was surprised how she enjoyed playing--much more than at Longbourn. At least here, she could not get on her mother's last nerve, or have Mary constantly hovering, and telling her how very wrong most of it was. She was left to choose music that suited her, and could take as much time as she needed to work through a passage, without fear of any sort of interruption--including visiting red coats.

And then, the letter that she was expecting--with news that everyone was anticipating--finally came. Jane was engaged to Mr. Bingley!

Elizabeth pictured the happy event in full. How Jane would have blushed, making her look even more radiant, and how joyful tears must have flowed. How handsome and noble Mr. Bingley must have looked, with his two sisters clinging, each to one leg. And how he must have dragged them several feet across the floor, to take Jane's hand, and place a gentle kiss upon it.

Her aunt, and young Sara joined her in her joy, and all three scrupulously planned out their honeymoon, where they should settle permanently, and just how many children they should have--although Sara was adamant they should have kittens instead.

Elizabeth was able to write a very loving and felicitous letter to her dearest sister. She was sorry that she was not there, but not wholeheartedly. A very small part of her ached for some unknown reason, but she tucked the ache away, and let her other feelings overflow into the replying letter.

Yet another ball was upon Elizabeth, and she gave herself over to Trina, freely this time, who squeezed, pinned and tucked her into another new gown. Elizabeth had written to Jane in detail about this gown, for she knew Jane, who had a finer figure, would look like an angel sent straight from heaven in it. She had never seen a prettier pale blue, and there were seed pearls sewn onto the hem of her sleeves, and embroidered on her bodice in groups of five, to resemble tiny white flowers. Around the pearls, gold thread was used to fashion delicate leaves that trailed and connected the pearl flowers.

"I think that I like this one the best, Miss. So elegant, so delicate--just like you. And look at your eyes! I did not know they were so blue," Trina enthused, as Elizabeth looked at herself in a full-length mirror.

"My sister Jane would look far better in this," Elizabeth observed, but secretly liked what she saw. Trina ignored her, while she helped her into her slippers.

"You are not being fair to the other ladies tonight, for they will despise you as soon as you walk in, Miss Bennet. I would accept no punch from anyone but a gentleman. A lady might spit in it." Elizabeth looked down surprised and amused at Trina. "Trust me," Trina added as she stood up.

Elizabeth smiled as she thought of the amusing letter that she would be able to write Jane, even without the ball. London was turning out to be exactly what she had hoped. Elizabeth smiled, because she had barely thought about him today. Trina fussed with a loose curl on Elizabeth's head, until she found its proper home.

"I do not say this to every woman I dress, Miss. One cannot put a gown on a camel, and expect it not to be a camel any more." Elizabeth laughed as Trina smoothed out her gown and looked her over to see if anything else should be done.

Mrs. Gardiner came in at that moment and stopped to admire her lovely young niece.

"Oh, Lizzy! You are simply a vision! I cannot even imagine how many hearts will be broken tonight over you."

Elizabeth shook her head. "Please do not say such things, Aunt."

"And why should I not?" her aunt challenged.

Elizabeth looked from her aunt to Trina who was in full agreement, and then back at her aunt. "With Mrs. Boyle making my inheritance everyone's business, there will certainly be no hearts set on me, and thus none to be broken."

"My dear, your lack of fortune will only scare off the not very rich. A very rich man does not have to worry about such a thing. Believe me, you will break hearts tonight, and that can be done by just glancing at you, my sweet girl."

"I told Miss Bennet so. She is no camel," Trina added with fervor.

Colonel Fitzwilliam lost no time in finding Elizabeth the moment he entered the ballroom. Elizabeth had despaired when she had to accept the hand of a Mr. Turner, with more teeth than she thought could fit into one mouth, for the first set. But her hope was restored when she spied the Colonel heading toward her. He had such open and happy manners. She was almost certain that there was not a thought in his head that did not pass on his face, and she liked him very much because of it.

When he reached her, he could not hide how stirred he was by her appearance. He smiled, but not the knowing and teasing smile she became used to at the previous ball. This smile was reverent, almost cautious. She looked up at him curiously, and he bowed.

"Miss Bennet, I have been in your presence for only a few seconds, yet you have claimed all my sincerity once more. You look positively stunning… Please, may I claim the next two dances?"

"Certainly, Colonel Fitzwilliam, but I do not desire your sincerity this evening."

The Colonel looked quizzically at her.

"I desire entertainment. Please fill my head with tales of your travels, for I have decided that I am quite dull and ignorant, after spending time in my uncle's expansive library. If I cannot see the rest of the world, I must at least hear of it from someone who has."

The Colonel smiled graciously. "Miss Bennet, first of all, you do yourself a great disservice, by claiming yourself dull and ignorant--I find you quite the opposite. Quite. And secondly, I am very much capable of entertaining you with stories of my travels, with my sincerity still intact."

Elizabeth smiled. "I am happy to hear that."

The Colonel's teasing smile reappeared. "My mission tonight, will be to sincerely entertain you, Milady."

Mr. Turner, and his fifty-seven teeth, were quite forgot, and the Colonel was forgiven for being late. Elizabeth smiled at the attractive man beaming before her, and she secretly hoped that he would, once again, ask her for more than one set.

"Good evening, Miss Bennet," said a low, baritone voice.

A shock wave went through Elizabeth. She knew that voice, but it was out of place. It belonged miles and miles away. That voice belonged under an oak tree, off of a path. It made her heart pound and her face flush.

What was he doing here? She was finally distracted enough in London not to be thinking about him every hour, and now he appears out of nowhere, to continue his slow, cruel torture.

Elizabeth took a deep breath, and forced herself to turn slightly to face Mr. Darcy, who came to stand next to Colonel Fitzwilliam. She met his eyes. They were pained, and it sent her a little off balance. She knew she hated the man, but she did not feel it as fully as she thought.

"Mr. Darcy. I did not expect to see you, sir." She kept her countenance, and then looked down at his leg. "You are recovered?"

"Yes. I am recovered." He tried desperately not to look awkward. "And because I am recovered, Georgiana and I decided to come to London. We have a home here." Darcy looked over at Colonel Fitzwilliam, who was smiling widely at Elizabeth.

"I see that you have already made my cousin's acquaintance, Miss Bennet," Darcy remarked.

Surprised, Elizabeth looked back and forth at both of them. She then remembered whose eyes the Colonel's resembled. They were cousins! But beyond the eyes, there was nothing remotely similar about them. The Colonel was fair and good-natured, and Darcy was dark and brooding. Well, he was usually brooding. Right now he seemed many things, but definitely not brooding. He smiled at her. Elizabeth thought she could see merriment, but his eyes suggested sadness.

"I had no idea," Elizabeth confessed. She was off centered by Darcy's arrival, and now even more so, because of the intimate connection between Darcy and the handsome Colonel, whose attentions she had very much enjoyed. She was hoping to spend as much time as would be considered appropriate, dancing and conversing with him. It had been a very long time since she had met someone with that much wit and liveliness, and now it was all ruined. For how could she be comfortable getting to know Colonel Fitzwilliam, if his severe cousin was nearby, watching, judging and disapproving?

"Nor was I aware that you were acquainted with Darcy, Miss Bennet, or we should have talked about him behind his back," Colonel Fitzwilliam joked. "It was only this afternoon when I mentioned that I would be seeking you out as my first dance partner, did the connection come to our attention."

She looked back at Darcy. He smiled, and took a step closer to her.

"Miss Bennet, if I may be so forward--may I claim the set after?" he asked in all sincerity.

Elizabeth was astounded. It was like the Netherfield ball all over again, except this was worse! Weeks of hard work, books, shopping, new acquaintances, all designed to keep her from thinking about him and his cruelty, were unraveling rapidly as she stood before him. He looked down into her eyes, and tried to pull things out of them--she was sure of it! And she tried desperately to hold on to them, and keep them from him.

She wanted to refuse him. She wanted to run from the room and never look back. But she said yes. In an instant. She could not help herself. Stupid girl! Would she turn into a pillar of salt because of her weakness? Would she slowly be washed away into nothingness, because her strength failed her?

The next set started, and Elizabeth found herself standing up with the Colonel.

"So, Miss Bennet, in keeping with my word on the subject of talking about Darcy behind his back--how did my cousin behave in Hertfordshire?" He looked at her with teasing eyes, and even though she wanted to tease back, she knew that anything said, would be related to his cousin, so she answered cautiously.

"Mr. Darcy was a perfect gentleman in Hertfordshire, Colonel Fitzwilliam," she answered calmly.

"I do not doubt that he was a gentleman, Miss Bennet. But how did he act among people? Did he even speak a word?" Elizabeth looked up at him puzzled at his question, and the Colonel saw that he needed to elaborate.

"Darcy is rather quiet in places where he is not familiar. He has been like that since he was a boy, but he is lively enough in other places--among people that he knows. I was simply curious to see how he would act among country gentry."

Elizabeth could not help but wonder. It had never occurred to her that Mr. Darcy's aloof behavior could simply be shyness. How very odd. Could a rich, handsome, and powerful man, such as Mr. Darcy, be unconfident? Wanting to hear more, Elizabeth joined the game.

"Mr. Darcy was rather quiet, and did keep to himself. The very first time I saw your cousin, was at an assembly, where he only danced only two sets, and then with only the women in his party. Many other young ladies were in need of a partner, but I overheard him saying that it would be insupportable to stand up with any of them."

Fitzwilliam laughed, and then feigned shock. "And were you in need of a partner that evening, Miss Bennet?"

The lady smiled slightly, before she looked down.

"It seems very clear, that it is not insupportable for him to stand up with you tonight," he teased.

"I fear it is strictly out of duty, Colonel. I am not certain if it is a written law, but if a lady runs across a gentleman broken and bleeding by the side of the road, and offers assistance, the gentleman might feel he owes the lady one dance, if he happens upon her at a ball… even if the thought was previously insupportable."

Colonel Fitzwilliam looked shocked. "You ran across Darcy after his riding accident? He said nothing of it, that coxcomb!"

Elizabeth immediately wished she could take back her previous statement. Her face got hot, and her mind raced to see how she could rectify her words.

"I am very sorry for relating that, Colonel Fitzwilliam. It was common knowledge among our acquaintances, but I did not mean to say anything that would make your cousin uncomfortable among his friends here."

Fitzwilliam smiled knowingly. "Miss Bennet, do not distress yourself. I only had a brief letter from Darcy, stating that he was thrown from his horse, and broke his ankle. He was not hiding any information, and he and Miss Georgiana have only just arrived this morning in London."

He looked at her flushed face. "Really, Miss Bennet, there is no shame in having an angel rescue you. I can only say, that I wish it was I who lay broken and bleeding. I would have shouted it from the rooftop… if I was able to get myself up there." He winked at Elizabeth. "Darcy has all the luck."

The Colonel was successful at lightening the mood, although he wondered why Elizabeth blushed, and just why Darcy had failed to mention that this bewitching little creature had helped him in his hour of need. For the Colonel himself had spent quite a few minutes that very afternoon talking about the "beautiful and witty Miss Bennet" that he was fortunate enough to dance with at the last ball he attended. Darcy inquired if it was the same Miss Bennet of his acquaintance, but said nothing further. He did, however, decide that he would attend the very ball that sounded so tedious to him, just a half hour earlier.

The third set was upon them, and Darcy silently escorted Elizabeth to the floor. This was the closest she had been to him since the day of his accident, and she tried to put that out of her head. He looked at her the entire time they walked across the room, though she looked straight ahead. Heads were turned, and Elizabeth could only imagine it was to see the tall and handsome man, with the penetrating dark eyes. She also knew that he was probably a curiosity, and a target for many single young ladies and their mothers, who were finally able to put the name "Darcy" with his form.

Still nothing was said, and the dance started. Darcy was a good dancer, and that did not free Elizabeth's mind to think of conversation. Even though he was bent on silence, she was not going to spend the next fifteen minutes warring with her thoughts, and trying to decipher his.

"Mr. Darcy, I must apologize, and tell you that Colonel Fitzwilliam now knows that I assisted you the day of your fall."

Darcy smiled down at her. "I see that Fitzwilliam was true to his word about talking behind my back," he quipped lightly.

Elizabeth was a little stunned by his cheerful manner. "I did not mean to tell him something that you had no intention"--

Darcy interrupted her. "Please Miss Bennet, I do not mind his knowing. I was quite joking when I told you I would buy your silence on the issue. Colonel Fitzwilliam has had his share of falls, I assure you, but even the charming Colonel cannot claim to have had such a lovely savior. I, you see, have the upper hand."

Elizabeth could not help but stare at him in amazement, and Darcy was well aware of it.

"Miss Bennet, are you shocked at hearing a compliment coming from me?"

He was all light and easy, and Elizabeth was wondering if she was indeed dancing with Colonel Fitzwilliam, in a Darcy mask. She gathered herself.

"In all honesty, Mr. Darcy, I do not think I have ever heard you compliment anyone, except your own dear sister."

He continued to smile, and now had her hand, as it was part of the dance. He could stand it no longer. He had waited weeks for this very moment. Her eyes were light blue tonight, and he wondered how many other shades he had missed being apart from her.

"Forgive me, for not saying what is on my mind more often." He looked her full in the face, "May I also say, Miss Bennet, that you simply took my breath away the moment I walked into the room? And I am still waiting for the moment when I shall regain it."

Elizabeth continued to stare, not being able to figure out what he was about. "Do you tease me, Mr. Darcy?" she asked incredulously.

Still holding her hand, still dancing, and still smiling, Darcy answered. "Do you think me so cruel as to give a compliment to a lady, and then take it back?"

"I am not certain, Mr. Darcy," she admitted.

"Are you still trying to sketch my character, Miss Bennet?"

"Very much so."

"Then as before, I will not suspend any pleasure of yours," he teased this time. Elizabeth remembered the last time she heard those words from him. How very different it was coming out of a smiling, charming man. But he was right. She was nowhere near finished sketching his character. This man she was dancing with was the most confusing, frustrating, maddening and fascinating man she had ever met.

The set ended, and while he escorted Elizabeth back to where her aunt was waiting, he slowed and hesitated. "Miss Bennet, may Georgiana and I call on you tomorrow?"

Elizabeth smiled at Georgiana's name. "Certainly, Mr. Darcy. I would love to see Miss Darcy again. Is she well?"

For the first time since they started dancing, Darcy's smile slipped. "She is well, Miss Bennet, but I feel the need to explain something to you about my behavior the last time you saw me." Pain washed over his face, and he looked pleadingly in her eyes, as he did when she refused his carriage that day.

The look caught her by surprise, and made her feel like comforting him. She was thinking of something to say to him, when Colonel Fitzwilliam walked up to them.

"Darcy, it is unkind to keep the lady standing after all this time. Miss Bennet must be exhausted." He handed her a small glass of punch. Elizabeth let go of Darcy's arm and took the cup.

Part of her was relieved to be free of him, but another part, a much larger part wished everyone else would melt away and they could speak openly without reserve. Once again, those questions that kept her from sleep, found their way back to the forefront of her mind. She was sure she would never have a restful night again, and it was all his fault.

With a book from her uncle's vast library open on her lap, Elizabeth was more than distracted, and could not recite the title, nor its content if her life depended on it. For he would show at any moment, and she was right--she did not sleep a wink. Even the overly complimentary Trina noticed her tired face this morning, before she made her splash it with rose water.

How could Elizabeth sketch his character, when he yells at his sweet sister for taking a walk in the country, and then comes to London and declares, out of the blue, that she has taken his breath away? What was this man all about? How could he be so cruel to Mr. Wickham, yet have such a devoted friend as Bingley? She was certain that Bingley was not impressed by Darcy's fortune, but what could possess him to keep Darcy so close, if he was such an unpleasant fellow?

She also pondered Colonel Fitzwilliam's claims that Darcy was shy and uncomfortable around strangers. Does that explain away his severity? Does it pardon his rudeness? Nothing made sense. Elizabeth's own feelings did not make sense. She was afraid of him. She was unwillingly drawn to him. He offended her, yet he mesmerized her. She was completely and utterly confused by him.

Elizabeth glanced around the elegant and sunny parlor where her aunt, uncle and Sara, were busying themselves while they waited for their illustrious callers. It was unusual for Mr. Gardiner to wait for a caller, but her aunt must have talked with him privately, for he kissed Lizzy on her hand, and told her she looked lovely before he sat with his paper. Elizabeth blushed and shot a look over to her aunt, who smiled and pretended that nothing was out of the ordinary.

A carriage was heard, and Sara ran to peek out the window. She giggled a little, while the rest of the room went on as if nothing was heard. Elizabeth tried to turn her attention to the fact that Georgiana would be there, and how happy she would be to see her, after so many weeks. This exercise seemed to work, since Elizabeth was perfectly collected when the three callers entered. Colonel Fitzwilliam had decided to join them.

Introductions were made. Georgiana was so visibly pleased to see Elizabeth, that Elizabeth felt it not improper to take her hand in earnest, and pull her to sit next to her on the couch with Sara. Mrs. Gardiner did a lovely job welcoming everyone warmly, and making sure they were comfortable. Elizabeth was struck by the fact that even though her aunt was so young, most likely very close to Mr. Darcy's age, she handled her domestic duties with grace, elegance and ease. Elizabeth was secretly pleased to have family that she was actually proud of, and her nerves eased, as her heart swelled.

Tea was ordered, and general pleasantries were exchanged about the Gardiner's lovely home, the weather, and last night's ball. Soon, the gentlemen fell into easy conversation with Mr. Gardiner about his business, the war, and trout fishing. Elizabeth helped Georgiana into conversation with her aunt and young Sara. Sara, being but eight, and freshly aware of everything that she would some day step into, asked Georgiana if she was "out." Even though Georgiana initially blushed, an entire conversation on the merits of coming out, dancing lessons, and what she should wear to her first ball filled the next half hour.

The separate conversations soon melded, and then broke off in different directions. Mrs. Gardiner spoke of her growing up not five miles from the Darcy estate in Derbyshire, and Mr. Darcy happily conversed with her on favorite haunts and old families in the area. Elizabeth soon found herself talking with a very enthusiastic Colonel Fitzwilliam on the subject of poetry versus prose. Even though Mr. Darcy was speaking to her aunt, she was certain that she saw him turn his head slightly, when she spoke her opinion on this and that.

Finally, Darcy spoke to Elizabeth. He warmly congratulated her on the recent engagement of her sister, and they were able to talk about the couple, the upcoming wedding, and where they would travel for their honeymoon. When Elizabeth cordially asked after the health of Bingley's sisters, she noticed a faint smile on Mr. Darcy's face, as he answered that they were both indeed in good health, as well as Mr. Hurst.

"You will soon have two more sisters, Miss Elizabeth. How very fortunate for you," he teased.

Elizabeth could not help but to smile and shake her head.

"No, Mr. Darcy, Jane will have two new sisters. I already have more than I could possibly handle," she joked, and he smiled.

"Will you be sorry to have lost such a friend to matrimony?" she asked in all sincerity.

Darcy sobered. "No, not at all. How could I be sorry to have a friend so happy in his choice of a wife?"

He glanced over at Fitzwilliam, and then back at Elizabeth with a glint in his eye. "The man is so happy, that it is rather difficult to be around him. I willed my leg to heal quickly, just so I could escape his raptures."

He then mimicked Bingley. "The sun has never shone brighter, the stars never twinkled as much, an angel has never looked as heavenly…" Darcy shook his head, and the room filled with laughter.

"Ah, yes," Mr. Gardiner added. "The sun shines in this very parlor, because of my lovely Margaret."

Mrs. Gardiner reddened, but smiled at her handsome husband, who blew her a kiss.

Colonel Fitzwilliam called out, "Bravo!" and started to clap, and was joined by Mr. Darcy who was smiling genuinely, much to Elizabeth's surprise.

Elizabeth thought that she could not remember when she had so enjoyed callers that she did not consider her intimates, before. Everyone was at ease, conversations flowing without awkwardness, and Mr. Darcy, Colonel Fitzwilliam and Georgiana seemed to truly enjoy the company of her family. How could that be?

She knew Darcy was very aware that, even though he was in a beautiful home, with its elegant owners, it was all begot from trade. But Elizabeth did not see one trace of distaste come from that gentleman. He was laughing, smiling and talking more than she had ever observed. He was an enigma, and she knew not what to think.

All too soon the callers had to leave. Elizabeth was sorry to see them go, but promised to call on Georgiana, and an invitation to a dinner party at the Gardiner's was extended for Friday night, and accepted.

Later that evening, as Elizabeth came down from her room, she passed her uncle's study and overheard her aunt speaking through the closed door.

"Colonel Fitzwilliam is clearly admiring, but he cannot be serious. He will have to marry rich, for he has nothing but the Fitzwilliam name. His brother gets the estate, the title--everything. Now Darcy is a different story altogether. He can marry anyone he chooses, and he has no immediate family to please, besides his sister, who clearly adores Lizzy. He might have been reserved here this morning, concerning her, but you should have seen the way he looked at her last night, dearest. He looked at no one but Elizabeth all night. And his only dance was with her. He used the excuse that he was recovering from an injured ankle, but he looked quite sprightly when he was out on the floor with Lizzy. I am certain he offended the whole of London society, but I do not think he cares, husband. Can you imagine? Pemberly!"

"Now, Margaret, do not get ahead of yourself. Let us just watch and see. I am Elizabeth's protector while she is with us, and I will not stand for anyone who toys with her affections, just because she is a pretty diversion. We will have plenty of opportunities to observe these gentlemen, my dear. Be patient, and put all your energy toward our dinner party on Friday."

Elizabeth quickly hurried to the library to avoid being discovered. She closed the heavy door, and leaned against it. She could not believe what she was hearing. They had no idea what was in Mr. Darcy's head. They were so very mistaken, that it was laughable! Why must everyone whisper "marriage" when a gentleman pays attention to a lady? Elizabeth wished she could laugh, but she could not. Why could she not laugh?

The mere speculation greatly annoyed Elizabeth. She was not upset with her aunt and uncle. She knew they were doing their duty to look out for her, and for that, she was grateful. It was just the idea of other people's looks, and whispers. She had been looking forward to the dinner on Friday, and now she only felt that she would be starring in a spectacle the entire evening. Would everyone be watching her every step? Would she be pitied if she talked with Colonel Fitzwilliam, because he could never choose her? Would she be called a fortune hunter if she spoke with Mr. Darcy?

Simply thinking about it made her feel ill. She made her way up to her room, and lay upon her bed.

She loathed money, and at this moment, she loathed people for what they let money do to them. She wanted Jane. She wanted the new Mrs. Collins. She might, at this moment, even be able to appreciate one of Mary's sermons.

And although Elizabeth's mind was weary, her legs wanted to take her and run away. She longed for the shelter of the familiar towering trees, and missed the coolness of the damp earth, and the soft rustling the leaves made, as they were disturbed. She wanted to plant her feet far apart, and yell as loud as she pleased. And she would not care how many gentlemen fell and hit their heads because of it. They could bleed all they wanted, and drag themselves for miles for help. But she would just keep on running in her white gown, and thin slippers. And would never have to make her way back. She would never come back. Never.

And then an exhausted Elizabeth, drifted off to sleep.

Chapter Six

Posted on: 2010-03-01

Friday night came too quickly. Elizabeth considered having a great headache, but she knew how disappointed her aunt would be, if not suspicious. Georgiana would not be coming as Elizabeth had wished. Elizabeth had called on her, and promised her that she would not leave her alone for one moment, but Georgiana would have none of it. She begged Elizabeth to forgive her, and claimed she was too young and too awkward for a formal dinner party. Of course Elizabeth forgave her, and the two played duets on Georgiana's pianoforte until just before the gentlemen were expected home, and Elizabeth felt the need to leave.

Elizabeth stood with Mrs. and Mr. Gardiner, welcoming their guests. Mrs. Boyle arrived with her ancient husband, and was happy to tell Elizabeth that her grandson was very pleased by her looks and manners, and would not be sorry to dance with her again if the occasion arose. But she also kindly warned Elizabeth not to set her cap on him, since he was still young, and very susceptible to pretty faces, and had yet to learn the true value of an appropriate and suitable match. All of this had to be repeated loudly, so old Mr. Boyle, and the servants downstairs, could hear that Elizabeth should not set her cap on their precious, scrawny, heir apparent.

Elizabeth began to think that the name suited the lady perfectly, and wished for her permanent removal.

Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam entered, and Elizabeth did her best not to color when they both stood before her, and bowed. They looked more alike than Elizabeth had allowed. Both were tall, with similar builds and the same eyes--only one or two shades apart. Elizabeth was now almost embarrassed that she was attracted to Colonel Fitzwilliam, for it seemed that she simply found a lighter version, both in looks and manners, of the man she ran away from in Hertfordshire. Elizabeth had once fancied herself as sensible, but she questioned that, as she was beginning to question many things.

Mrs. Gardiner set an elegant table, and after drinks, Elizabeth found herself sitting next to, none other, than Mr. Darcy. Elizabeth knew it was by design, and tried to keep her countenance, when she realized where she would be spending the next hour and a half. She could see her aunt, at the foot of the table, and within earshot, smile quite innocently at her, as Elizabeth's chair was pulled out for her to sit.

She rose to the occasion, and graciously smiled and talked to everyone around her, and even managed to speak of a few light and trivial things to Mr. Darcy, who looked gallant in his evening attire. Elizabeth was in the middle of listening to a Mrs. Munson speak of her recent visit to court, where the Prince Regent had fallen asleep, during the knighting of the Duke of Somethingshire, when Mrs. Boyle's shrill voice came up significantly in volume, from the opposite end of the table.

"No, dearest! She only has one thousand after her mother's death, not one thousand per annum! That would be at least something!"

Elizabeth froze for a moment, and she could see that a few faces had turned to her. Quickly and graciously, her dear uncle remarked on something humorous that happened outside of the House of Commons, and everyone's attention was diverted. Almost everyone's.

A low voice spoke next to her.

"Perhaps we should have cards printed out for you, so no one is confused on the subject, Miss Bennet."

Elizabeth looked over at Mr. Darcy who was smiling. His eyes danced, as he continued.

"I know of a capital print shop in town, that might also be able to estimate the life spans of both your parents, which could be printed on the back, with your coat of arms."

She stared at him, not quite believing what she was hearing. After her shock wore off, she not could help but feel grateful that he was not repulsed by her situation, and he was making an effort to lessen her embarrassment, by making her laugh.

She smiled cautiously back at him. "As brilliant as that idea is, I do not think that will be necessary while Mrs. Boyle still breathes, Mr. Darcy," the lady whispered.

Darcy lowered his voice further, and leaned in a little bit closer to her ear. "Well, we can always hope for a well placed pheasant bone to block her air passage," he mused.

Elizabeth's eyes widened. Mr. Darcy told a joke, and it was a good one! She had to use her napkin to hide a sudden burst of laughter, which she successfully squelched, much to Darcy's delight. His napkin was not needed, but he smiled widely, and enjoyed Elizabeth's pleasure, more than he thought was possible.

Colonel Fitzwilliam looked over from across the table, noticing their camaraderie.

Elizabeth recovered, and whispered back, but while facing her own plate. "You shock me, Mr. Darcy. I did not think that you were capable of such indecorous thoughts. I was under the opinion that I alone was guilty of such things."

"Not at all, Miss Bennet. Great minds think alike."

And with that, he took a drink of his wine.

Elizabeth did the same, and looked up to notice Colonel Fitzwilliam smiling at her in a particular manner, though she could not read it. She quickly returned the smile.

"Miss Bennet, I understand that you called on Georgiana twice this week," added Darcy. "I think it odd, that I missed seeing you both times. Either your timing is very ill, or rather, very precise." He continued to work on his plate before him.

Elizabeth understood that he was accusing her of avoiding him, and had to think quickly.

"My timing had mostly to do when Miss Darcy was available, and when my uncle's carriage could be spared, Mr. Darcy. There was no precision involved," she lied skillfully.

Elizabeth's attention was drawn back to Mrs. Munson, to finish her story. And even though she was watching Mrs. Munson, in Elizabeth's mind, her eyes were fixed on Mr. Darcy: his face, his smile, and his eyes. How he looked at her sideways while he leaned in toward her. How she could feel his breath on her neck. And how it seemed impossible that he could make light of something that seemed to occupy and concern most everyone else at the table.

It was not until a beautifully arranged silver platter was brought out, with a huge pheasant featured in the middle, did Elizabeth glance back at Darcy with a suppressed, but knowing smile. He lifted his wine glass, and nodded his head toward the bird, and then toward Mrs. Boyle.

Elizabeth did everything in her power not to laugh out loud again. And she was struck for the first time, by how easy it was to be with him, and how much she was enjoying his company. He was not the combative man she sparred with, every time they met in Hertfordshire. She wondered, and now marveled at the man next to her. Who was he? Elizabeth could see the depth of his eyes, and could feel herself starting to lose herself in them. But still, something was keeping her from fully surrendering herself to those eyes.

Darcy and Elizabeth were being observed carefully by Colonel Fitzwilliam, and Mrs. Gardiner. The former, wondering if his cousin had actually come to London for a different reason then he claimed, and the latter, congratulating herself on her brilliant seating chart.

Although no one choked on a pheasant bone, the evening was still considered a success. Besides the few heads that turned at dinner, Elizabeth did not feel prying eyes watching her every move, as she had feared. After dinner, she was able to spend time with many different people, so as not call attention to herself. She played a few hands of whist with Colonel Fitzwilliam, who continued to pay her plenty of attention and compliments, but there was something different about his manner. He did not seem as open, she thought.

Elizabeth was prevailed upon to play and sing at the pianoforte, but because she was forewarned by her aunt, she was able to practice, and thus performed well, even in her own eyes. She could not help but notice his thoughtful stare, as she moved toward her seat, after the performance. When her eyes met his, a tremor leapt through her. Fearing that she would walk straight into the wall, she averted her eyes, but the warmth, his warmth stayed with her, and she did her utmost to keep her composure, as she welcomed the compliments of others around her.

There was much to think about when she went to bed that night, and Elizabeth knew full well that, once again, she would toss and turn--but this time a smile was thrown into the mix.

The next day brought a letter from Jane. She would be coming to London with Mrs. Bennet in two days, to buy wedding clothes. She asked Elizabeth to return with her to Longbourn, so they could be together these few weeks before her wedding. Elizabeth was torn, but would feel the loss of Jane greatly. Of course she would go back to Longbourn, but something deep inside her wished to stay, only she refused to give words to it.

Jane and Mrs. Bennet arrived on a Monday. Mrs. Gardiner welcomed them graciously, and was very patient with Mrs. Bennet's ecstasies and nerves--each taking turns at will, and showing themselves at the most inopportune times.

The first order of business, the day after their arrival, was to go to Mademoiselle Adele's. The outré lady remembered Elizabeth, and winked at her, while she was introduced to Jane and Mrs. Bennet. Of course, she was in raptures about being able to dress Jane, spinning her around, and admiring her "magnifique" figure, and her "angelique" face.

Jane was almost prepared ahead of time by her sister's detailed account of her visit, but it did not stop her from throwing Elizabeth amazed glances, when Mademoiselle's breasts were not blocking her view.

Mrs. Bennet, however, was not prepared for Mademoiselle Adele.

"No, no, no, Jane, those will not do! They will not fall the way you want them to. There is such a thing as too delicate. Put that down. Here! Look at this one! It has a better weight to it." She started to go on about her experience with this and that, and how so-and-so looked absolutely hideous when she wore that type of lace, when Mademoiselle barreled up, and interrupted her.

"Shoo, shoo, shoo! Zees is all wrong! Please, Madame, back away, and let zee silk pick Miss Bennet!"

"I am certain, I do not know what you mean," Mrs. Bennet retorted, while she took everything there was to take in, about the strange lady.

"But of course, you do not know what I mean. Small woo-man."

Mrs. Bennet, being the same height as Elizabeth, was at eye level with her chest. Mademoiselle knew meddling mothers, and would not be putting up with this one. Mademoiselle Adele placed herself between Jane and Mrs. Bennet, facing the mother.

"You wait over there. Sit!" she commanded with great authority, and pointed to a pink tufted chair near the entrance.

Mrs. Bennet looked up at the lady in unbelief. Mademoiselle was dressed in bright canary yellow, resembling the sun--if it had fallen to earth, or more specifically, France, and then had its hair done. Mrs. Bennet looked over at Mrs. Gardiner, who slowly nodded, and prayed for her own sake, her sister-in-law would not make a scene. Elizabeth held her breath.

Mrs. Bennet stood perfectly still, eyeing the sizable lady before her. She pursed her lips. And then, without a word, she went to sit on the little seat.

Elizabeth could not believe her eyes, and glanced between Jane and her aunt, who were just as mystified, and impressed. Elizabeth had sudden respect for the bright yellow orb with the flaming hair.

"Now, ma cherie, you take your time. You touch zee fabreeks. See wheech ones make your heart smile, and zen we will talk."

Jane smiled, and started to examine and feel the silks, and lace before her.

Mademoiselle then turned her full attention on Elizabeth.

"Ah, my petit fugitif…"

Elizabeth looked up at her, surprised at the pet name.

"You have not worn it yet, have you?"

Elizabeth suddenly felt as if she was in the presence of something more than an eccentric dressmaker. A little chill went through her.

"Do not despair, for it will tell you when it is time. It will have its day in the sun."

Once again, Mademoiselle smiled. There was no bouncing beauty spot to distract this time, and Elizabeth was left standing in wonder, while Adele turned her attention back to Jane.

The London trip was a success, the wedding clothes were ordered, and many more things bought for Jane's new life. Elizabeth was surprised how much Jane's presence affected her. She truly felt what a loss it will be for her when she will no longer be at Longbourn, and they could no longer steal into each other's room, and share their hearts, and dreams. For now Mr. Bingley had her heart, and her dreams would now be built on his.

Mrs. Gardiner kept Mrs. Bennet busy on their last afternoon, and Elizabeth was able to take Jane to call on Georgiana. Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam were also there. They only stayed a quarter of an hour, since the carriage was needed back, but it gave Elizabeth a chance to say her goodbyes, as Georgiana would soon be leaving for the north, to continue her studies.

Elizabeth and Georgiana shed a few tears, and promised many letters between them. Colonel Fitzwilliam was positive that their paths would cross again, soon, and Mr. Darcy bowed deeply, and said that he would be coming to Hertfordshire one week before the wedding. He also wished her a safe, and most pleasant journey. Elizabeth was certain that he wanted to say more, and he even opened his mouth, but quickly shut it again, before looking back at his cousin. He smiled graciously at her, but said nothing else.

She was not completely torn, because she knew she would see him soon enough, and this might actually give her a chance to figure out her range of emotions. For she was beginning to feel something. Just the mention of his name in casual conversation, would put her heart at full gallop. And if she happened to glance over at him, and found him already looking at her, she could feel herself melt like wax. Yet the thoughts of his outburst in the carriage, his treatment of others, bled into the scene, staining what had been lovely and spotless. She could not dismiss them. So, she looked at him one more time, before he helped her into the carriage, and tried to read his deep eyes, and impart something of her own in his. Prove yourself, sir.

And then they left London.

Longbourn seemed a curious place to Elizabeth since her return. Although she had missed Jane and her father, it did not feel like a home to her anymore. It felt more like a stop for her until her journey continued. And it was, actually. She had settled it with Charlotte before Christmas, that she would come up to Kent with Sir William, and her sister, Maria in March. She would be home less than a month before she left again.

The wedding approached, and her mother's nerves took over the house with a vengeance. Elizabeth regularly found solace in her long walks, although Mr. Bennet was now concerned for the first time about her country rambling. She kissed him on the cheek, and told him that she would be a measly meal for any great cat, which may have escaped from traveling performers, and then she was off.

On this particular walk, Elizabeth gathered winter lavender. She had a basket full of it, and was making her way up to the road when she recognized Mr. Wickham on foot. He saw her, and stopped.

Elizabeth was not happy to see him, as he had been coming around Longbourn again, and too frequently. Apparently, Miss King's uncle got wind of rumored gambling debts, and took his young and wealthy niece away to Ireland. Wickham seemed to have picked up where he had left off with Elizabeth, just as if it was the day after the Netherfield ball. He actually brought up the very ball, and made excuses, saying that he had unexpected business to tend to in town, and he very much regretted not being able to stand up with her. He had also heard that she did stand up with Mr. Darcy, and wondered out loud how unpleasant it was for her.

Elizabeth had felt very uncomfortable about his sudden interest in her again. Too much time had passed, and she was certain she was not even the same person she was back in November. She was short with him, and told him that Mr. Darcy was an excellent partner, he was surprisingly light on his feet, and improved greatly upon acquaintance. Wickham seemed surprised, and did not press the issue. He then turned his attention to her youngest sister, much to Elizabeth's relief.

But here he was again, and she was quite annoyed.

"Miss Bennet! It is a lovely day, is it not?"

She forced herself to smile at his warm greeting. He came closer to her, and offered his arm, since she was navigating a small ridge before she reached the road, and she was obviously fatigued.

"It is a lovely day, Mr. Wickham. I thank you."

She took his arm, and he helped her up and over the ridge, and to the good side of the road. Once safe, she let go of his arm, and took a few steps away, and caught her breath.

"I am just enjoying a long walk. It is not often that Colonel Forster does not have us jumping at his every whim," he said as he looked at her basket.

"I see that you have been busy. What fragrant lavender you have found today." He took a step closer to her, and reached to take one from her basket. He put it under his nose.

"And what a picturesque place Hertfordshire is, Miss Elizabeth. I am certain that I have found myself in one of the most pleasant places in England. Do you not agree with me?" He looked at her teasingly, and she felt more annoyed, and now uncomfortable.

"Certainly. Hertfordshire is quite picturesque," she answered, while regaining their former distance. "I am just returning to Longbourn now, I've been out a long time." she declared.

"Please let me escort you, Miss Elizabeth. It would be my honor."

Elizabeth's ears grew hot. The nerve of him, thinking she would be seen alone on his arm!

"No thank you, Mr. Wickham. I am managing quite well, and I am not yet done with my task," she explained while she nodded toward her basket.

"But you just said, that you are returning to Longbourn."

"I am. I just am planning on finding more along the way. I would not want to deter you."

Wickham smiled at her lie. "Miss Elizabeth, I would be more than happy to pick lavender with you, for there is no where else I am supposed to be."

Elizabeth could feel that she was losing this battle, and knew she must change tactics.

"Mr. Wickham, as much as I appreciate the offer, I would rather you go on without me. We live in a small hamlet, and there is nothing more tempting to get the people to talk, than the sight of you and I, walking alone together."

Wickham laughed out loud at this, much to Elizabeth's surprise.

"I do not care what the good people of Hertfordshire think, Miss Elizabeth. And I am quite surprised that you care, either."

He took another step toward her, and used the flower to touch under her chin. "You are quite independent, and thus impervious to speculations."

Elizabeth could smell liquor on his breath, and took two steps back from him. She spoke to him very firmly.

"Mr. Wickham, you have no idea who I am, and I beg you to please leave me immediately."

At that very moment, as Elizabeth's words sank in, Wickham's face turned dark. He did not move, but glared at her.

"You mistake me, Elizabeth. I know exactly what you are about."

She startled at hearing her Christian name, and noticed the turn of his countenance.

He continued. "You received my attentions happily before Miss King came along, and now you mean to punish me for letting myself be diverted? You are ten times prettier than Miss King, Elizabeth, but you cannot fault me for looking for a more suitable match. A match made from money. Much like your sister, Jane, made."

Elizabeth was in high alarm by this time, but was not certain what to do.

"Mr. Wickham, you are far from the truth, believe me--"

Wickham started to walk slowly toward her, interrupting her, and talked with her in a most familiar and inappropriate manner.

"Do not play with me, Elizabeth. I can take many a lady's game, but I do not think I can bear yours."

At this, Elizabeth turned, and hurried away, a new wave of energy coming over her. But, in just a matter of seconds, Wickham was at her side, and grabbed her free wrist, pulling her to a stop.

She looked up at him in horror, and tried to free herself. "Mr. Wickham, let go of me this moment!" she cried loudly.

Without waiting for an answer, she swung the basket, which had a hard bottom, and hurled it against his head with her free arm. He released her arm, as she let the basket fall, and gained a bit of distance from him. She knew at this point it was useless to run, so she decided that words were her only ally.

Still at full voice, Elizabeth continued. "I do not know what has come over you, Mr. Wickham, but you best be on your way at this moment!" Her breathing was deep, and she tried to hide the fear in her eyes.

Brushing the few leaves and stems that had landed on his shoulder, Wickham smiled once again, but it was sly, calculated smile.

"Do not you see that it is fate? I think of none other than you, Elizabeth. And here you are, like a woodland nymph, gathering flora with the sunlight in your hair. This was meant to be."

Elizabeth was stunned by his words, and even more so, when he took slow steps toward her.

"Sir, if that is how you feel, then you are going about this in all the wrong ways… Call at Longbourn. You may see me properly then," she begged.

"You are right." He looked around. "This is all wrong, but how can I rectify it now? You will never receive me at Longbourn after this. And how could I bear that?"

And with that, he suddenly closed the gap between them, and forced his lips hard upon hers, grabbing her waist and pulling her close to him. He then clamped his arms around her back, trapping her arms in his grip.

Wickham got angrier the more Elizabeth resisted. He held her tighter, and tried to force her to respond. Elizabeth fought with all of her strength, and finally broke away, but he held fast to her left wrist. She glared intensely at the smirking man in front of her. She took a deep breath, and managed a substantial slap across his cheek that caused both of them pain.

Wickham reeled with the slap, and let go of her. He then leaned over and held his left cheek, while Elizabeth spun around and ran.

Coming around the corner, at that very moment, were two gentlemen on horseback. Elizabeth ran toward them with hot tears in her eyes, holding her right hand within her left. She recognized them immediately, and stopped only when she stood right in front of them, her mind racing.

Bingley and Darcy were coming from calling at Longbourn. Darcy, having arrived just the day before, was keenly disappointed that Elizabeth was out, and was quelling his displeasure, when the very person who occupied his mind, came running toward them in obvious distress.

Darcy looked at her astonished. Beyond her was Mr. Wickham, still holding his stinging cheek, and further down, in the middle of the road, was an upset basket of lavender. Darcy dismounted, and was at her side in a moment.

"Miss Bennet, are you alright?" He was all concern and protectiveness.

Elizabeth could not speak, and had a difficult time looking him in the eye. She brushed away a tear, and tried to replace a curl that had come loose. Oh, not him! Please not him! She wanted to disappear. She wanted to wish herself far away.

He lightly held her arm to steady her, and looked her over. He saw that even though her hair was mussed, that her frock was still pressed and in place, and surmised that they had arrived in time. He looked up at Bingley, who was still trying to make sense of the situation.

"Bingley! Stay here with Miss Bennet." He then trained his eye on Wickham, and strode straight toward him.

Bingley hopped down from his horse and took Elizabeth's trembling hand. "Miss Elizabeth, have you been harmed? What happened?"

Elizabeth looked over at Darcy, who had already reached Mr. Wickham. Mr. Wickham had straightened up and was readying himself. She looked back at Bingley. She did not know what to say, or how to say it.

"Did Mr. Wickham harm you? Pray, please tell me your troubles, Miss Elizabeth, for we are almost brother and sister!"

Bingley was so sincere in his words, and Elizabeth had always longed for a brother, that she let a sob escape. Bingley awkwardly patted his pockets, and then produced a handkerchief. He then gently put his arm about her protectively, steering her away from viewing the two gentlemen.

"Miss Elizabeth, you must tell me what happened, before Darcy horsewhips Mr. Wickham." He looked earnestly into her eyes.

Elizabeth wiped her eyes. "Mr. Wickham, would not let me leave. I begged him in earnest, but he…" Elizabeth could not go on, and cried some more. Mr. Bingley, feeling that he heard enough, turned to look toward Darcy and Wickham, but continued to shield Elizabeth.

Darcy stood very close to Mr. Wickham, towering over him. Their voices were low and neither of them moved. Bingley hoped that Darcy would horsewhip the blackguard, or worse! He then turned his attention back to Elizabeth.

"What can I do for you? Please let me know what I can do, Miss Elizabeth?"

Elizabeth could not help but smile a little at his awkward concern. "Mr. Bingley, you have already done enough by just being present. Thank you for your concern. I am very grateful. And I soon shall be myself." Although she knew better.

At that moment, Darcy joined them. He looked grave, but tried to rally when he saw that Elizabeth was struggling with tears, and that she was now trembling.

His coat was off in a second and wrapped securely around Elizabeth. Darcy supported her weight, while she tried to stop her tears, and the thoughts that were assaulting her. He exchanged glances with Bingley before he addressed Elizabeth.

"Miss Bennet, Mr. Wickham is gone. He will not be bothering you again, I assure you."

Elizabeth managed to glance his way. "Thank you, sir."

Darcy and Bingley exchanged glances again, while Elizabeth made use of the handkerchief.

"Miss Elizabeth, we must get you back to Longbourn directly," Bingley stated with authority. "For you are not well."

Elizabeth looked up startled. She sobered and took a step away from Darcy.

"Please, sirs, you must not speak of what happened today. I simply could not bear it," she begged.

"Miss Bennet, your parents, at least, need to know what happened to you," Mr. Bingley exclaimed.

"Sir, you do not understand. My father might be prevailed upon to keep a cool head, but my mother will not! She will demand that Wickham make restitutions. She will hound my father, and speak of it freely to anyone who has ears. She will have me married off to him in a fortnight! Please, let us just forget all of this. It will be much better for me, if it all can be forgotten!"

Elizabeth looked between Bingley and Darcy, and she trembled even more. Bingley looked at her incredulously, but Darcy seemed to have more understanding.

"Miss Bennet, I do understand your fears, believe me, but this man needs to be exposed in some manner," explained Mr. Darcy gently.

"Please, just do not let it be at my expense. Please sir, do not condemn me to a life with a man who…" She could not find the words. She simply buried her face in her hands.

The gentlemen looked helplessly at each other, and waited for Elizabeth to calm.

"Miss Elizabeth, can you really expect us to do nothing?" Bingley asked.

"I am asking you to do something, Mr. Bingley. Something of great importance to me. Please let me go on with my life. Making this deed known will only mean my ruin. A celibate life would be better than a marriage to a man like that. I beg of you to simply escort me home. Say that you found me almost faint by the road, and leave it at that. Please, Mr. Bingley. Please, Mr. Darcy."

The gentlemen did not want to distress Elizabeth further, so they gathered her basket, and took her home. Darcy placed her gently on his horse, and walked quietly along side. All the while wracking his brain, and playing out scenarios in his head. But mostly, hating himself to the core. He swore to himself. He swore at himself! Elizabeth's despondent face, her tears, and her trembling body were tearing at his very soul. What had he done? How could he make restitutions? Oh, how Wickham would pay!

There was not much conversation on the way to Longbourn, but Elizabeth's trembling turned into uncontrollable shivers, alarming both gentlemen. They wanted to pick up the pace, to get her home sooner, but were afraid that Elizabeth would not be able to hold on to the reigns.

While Elizabeth weakly protested their plan, Darcy gently pulled her off of his horse. Bingley was waiting next to him, and took her from Darcy, supporting her weight. Darcy mounted his horse, and Bingley handed a still protesting Elizabeth, up to him. Darcy wrapped her as tightly as he could in his coat, while Bingley mounted his own horse.

Elizabeth continued to tell Mr. Darcy that this was "most unnecessary," between chatters. That was, until he quoted her own verse to her, and told her that he was the sun today, and that she should not speak against him, for it would do no good. She sighed between her shivers, and let herself fall into his chest, and resigned herself to it all.

She endeavored to not think on what happened to her on the path, but she purposely took note of each sound, every scent, and every movement. She wanted to remember the way it felt to be held closely by him, to commit to memory his strong arms, his intake of breath against her side, and to burn into her heart, the beats she felt and heard against her ear, as they matched her own. For all too soon, they would part. It would be over.

How torn Darcy was. How he wanted to explain everything to her right there. She was tucked up against him, and he was holding her securely, but she was most obviously going into shock. She continued to shiver almost to the point of convulsions, and Darcy held her even tighter, and kept assuring her in the most sympathetic terms, that she would soon be home, and would be able to rest comfortably.

Once at Longbourn, Elizabeth pleaded that she be let down to walk under her own power, assuring Darcy that she was quite recovered, although her shivering had not completely let up. Reluctantly, Darcy lowered Elizabeth down, set her carefully on the gravel, and without letting her arm go, jumped down after her. He studied her, to make sure that she was steady, but her eyes started to fall back into her head, and she started to sway. He immediately swept her up, before she fell backward.

"Darcy! Is she alright?" Bingley cried out.

"She has fainted. Get the door."

As Bingley rushed off, Darcy leaned in to Elizabeth's face, as her head bobbed with each step he took.

"Elizabeth," he whispered, "Forgive me, my love. Forgive me for hurting you over and over again."

He carried her to the front door where Bingley, and a very alarmed, but steady, Jane, awaited.

Darcy brought Elizabeth inside, and followed Jane into the parlor, where he placed her gently on a couch, while Mrs. Bennet cried out loud, at the sight of her lifeless daughter.

Darcy did exactly as Elizabeth wished, and explained calmly, that they found her tired and faint, by the side of the road, and she had only just lost consciousness. Jane kneeled beside Elizabeth, and touched her forehead. She untied the bonnet that hung down her back, and tried to awaken her sister.

"Lizzy? Lizzy?"

Mrs. Bennet did not disappoint, and made the expected scene, already having the entire household in uproar. She had servants rush around getting cold compresses, hot tealeaves, and smelling salts. Kitty was crying into her father's chest, and Mary was praying in the corner. Mrs. Bennet apologized profusely to the gentlemen, and explained that Elizabeth had been a very troublesome creature as of late, and prayed that she did not ruin their day.

After a few minutes, Elizabeth's eyes opened, and not long after that, she sat up. She was mortified that she had actually fainted, and even more so because Darcy and Bingley were still there. But she was put more at ease when the story, that she had asked to be related, was repeated to others, who now joined them in the room. Elizabeth did not dare look at Darcy. She could not bear it.

She had what she set out to get. And from this point on, she would pull from her private remembrances of the horse ride home.

After making sure Elizabeth was well enough, the gentlemen took their leave. Elizabeth could hear the hooves against the gravel, and listened intently until she could hear no more. And the subsequent ache that pierced her, that cut her to her very core, did not cease.

With the Gardiner's back at Longbourn for the wedding, Elizabeth and Jane shared a room. And since the wedding was only four days away, Elizabeth did not want to distress her sister with the intelligence of what had transpired. She had developed a real headache from her tears and mortification, and therefore, successfully hid the truth.

As she lay next to her sleeping sister, Elizabeth could see Wickham's sudden turn of countenance. She could hear his alarming words echoing in her head, and could feel his tense body, and angry lips on hers. She was ruined. She was ruined. Her mind could reconcile nothing else. Her head continued to pound, and she fell into a troubled sleep.

The wedding was everything that Jane had hoped for, save her mother, who could not stop speaking of Jane's new income, and how she would have such fine clothes, carriages, and hundreds in pin money. Elizabeth was happy for Jane, yet so miserable at the same time.

Mr. Darcy was everywhere. He stood up with his friend, as Elizabeth stood up with Jane. They were thrown together with all of the pre-wedding and wedding festivities. She wanted nothing more than to be away from his knowing looks. Even though he was nothing but kind and gentleman-like, he knew. He knew what had happened. And she knew that she could never be anything in his eyes now. And she was angry with herself, for even thinking she could have been anything in the first place.

The moment Jane and Bingley pulled away in their carriage, Elizabeth found her way up to her room. No more Jane. No more sanity. It was almost unbearable. Elizabeth clung to the fact that she would be leaving in two days time. She would be going to visit Charlotte, now Mrs. Collins, at her new home in Kent. She did not care that she would be exposed to Mr. Collins. His silliness seemed nothing, compared to what she had experienced since the day he proposed. That was a lifetime ago. All she cared about was putting miles and miles between her, and anything that reminded her of the meeting with Mr. Wickham.

Chapter Seven

Posted on: 2010-03-05

Sir William Lucas and Maria were good companions. Sir William liked to speak of London, his knighthood, and his daughter's fortunate alliance; and Maria talked about ball gowns, bonnets, and how very frightened she was already of Lady Catherine, without ever setting eyes on her. Between them, they kept the conversation flowing, and Elizabeth did not have to think much about anything else. The weather held up nicely, and the trip was quite pleasant, all things considered.

As expected, they were met with great affability at Hunsford cottage. Mr. Collins had a way of effusing his pleasure, and delighted in showing his guests every porcelain object, every piece of silver, and every improvement made to his humble abode. What was unexpected was the emotional greeting they received, from the normally reserved Charlotte. She actually had tears when she welcomed them, and grabbed her dear Lizzy so tight, that Elizabeth quite lost her breath for a moment.

After a good half hour of Mr. Collins' exhaustive, and very verbose tour, Charlotte was finally able to get Elizabeth alone, and the two old friends were able to converse as they used to. Charlotte spoke of learning to run the her house, Lady Catherine's over- attentiveness, and Mr. Collins' love of being in his garden and study.

Elizabeth was pleased to learn that her friend was actually content in her situation. And the more Elizabeth observed during her visit, the more she could see that the match was a good one on both sides. Charlotte was not sentimental, and did not require what Elizabeth deemed most important. She noted the distinction, and finally absolved Charlotte, in her heart, for the offense of marrying a ridiculous man.

Only days after Elizabeth's arrival, Lady Catherine de Bourgh extended a dinner invitation at Rosings, and almost all at the rectory were in a state of nervousness about it. Mr. Collins told his young sister-in-law and cousin not to worry about their plain dresses, that Lady Catherine preferred having the distinction of rank preserved. Elizabeth smiled to herself as she pondered wearing one of her London gowns, but decided against it. She would wait until the distinction of rank was set first.

Rosings was quite imposing. Elizabeth had never seen such a huge estate. It was ancient, and drafty, filled with armor, gilded furniture and thick intricate tapestries. In keeping with the house, Lady Catherine was also formidable. Besides being large in width and stature, she did her best to find out all she could about Elizabeth, and had comments and disapprovals about most everything she heard. But Elizabeth would not be ruffled. She considered all this a necessary evil, so she put up with it, and tried her best to be patient, and gracious, even in the face of Lady Catherine's ill behavior.

Lady Catherine had a daughter who was small, sickly, and did not say much. How she came forth from such an immense woman, Elizabeth knew not. They were polar opposites. She tried to engage Miss de Bourgh in conversation, but failed miserably each time. She thought Anne was a strange little creature, and wondered what her life must be like with such a mother. Elizabeth smiled, as she thought for the first time in her life, that she had been blessed in comparison. She could not wait to write to Jane, the new Mrs. Bingley, and tell her about the great lady.

Elizabeth soon settled into an agreeable routine at Hunsford. Daily walks were a must. She was joined, at times, by Charlotte and Maria, and other times, she was able to get out by herself. Spring was in full bloom, and the flowers, the woods, and the hills held great attraction for Elizabeth, and there were no officers about to be wary of. She was healing. She was resigning herself. But she was not forgetting.

Darcy was fresh in her mind, no matter what she did to keep from thinking of him. She could see him standing in front of her, smiling at her with no reserve, with complete abandon. Warmth would wash all over her, and she could not believe that she could possibly be the object of such a gaze--of such adoring eyes. But then, she would see his face become distracted, almost disgusted by something behind her. Elizabeth would turn to look over her shoulder, only to behold Wickham, standing in his red coat, with a cunning smile, holding a single lavender stem in his hand. She would then look back toward Mr. Darcy, and he would be gone.

Five evenings had already been spent at Rosings, but the invitations abruptly stopped, when Lady Catherine had family come to stay for Easter. Elizabeth was pleased to be out from under the great lady's scrutiny, if even for a few days, and Charlotte was relieved not to have interference in running her household for those same few days. For Charlotte was sure Lady Catherine had spies, and would show up out of nowhere, if she found out that the apples were stored in the opposite corner than she had advised.

Elizabeth set out by herself this fine morning. She had a letter from her father, and had not opened it yet. Although Mr. Bennet had much affection for his second daughter, he never wrote just for the sake of writing. He was not a man ruled by emotions, so he did not trifle with sentiments, or tedious descriptions of the budding leaves or green hills. He only penned a letter when there was something worth writing about, so Elizabeth was quite curious of its contents. She opened it while she walked at a leisurely pace.

He started by declaring that if Elizabeth should never return, he might be forced to find an occupation, only for the excuse to leave the house every day for long periods of time. He was currently considering becoming a highwayman, because the hours seemed flexible, the pay seemed handsome enough, and most importantly, he already had a great black cloak. He also asked his Lizzy if she preferred rubies or sapphires, but promised to do his best to get plenty of both.

Elizabeth smiled, and thought how she missed him. She then looked back at the letter, and got to the cream. He wrote of the scuttlebutt about town. Every villager was full of it. The very Wickham of their acquaintance, had been attacked outside of Meryton, on Monday night.

Elizabeth's heart pounded, and stuck in her throat, at the name. His face was instantly in her mind, and she was not sure if she could continue, but her eyes read on.

Her father wrote that Wickham claimed to not be able to identify the attackers. But witnesses, who saw no faces, just dark figures, reported there were three. Whispers that a large unpaid debt was the catalyst, set the townsfolk to conclude that his creditors were responsible, and had given him a short amount of time to pay it back, and this was his warning.

Wickham claimed that all was well, although his face was quite misshapen, his ponytail snipped off, and from all reports, he now walked in a most peculiar manner.

Elizabeth stood still when she read the account, and was trying to figure out how she felt about it, when Maria came calling after her, in great haste.

Maria, who did not exert herself unless it was absolutely necessary, was winded, and had a hard time explaining herself. Although it was apparent that something she deemed important was happening, or was about to happen. Finally, she caught her breath, and was able to relate that Lady Catherine's nephews, Mr. Darcy, and a Colonel Fitzwilliam were coming to call at the parsonage.

Going completely numb, Elizabeth stared at Maria. She could not feel her body, or the ground beneath her feet. Only Maria's voice startled her back.

"Come Lizzy! For Mr. Collins bid you to come quickly. They will be here very soon. Make haste!"

This was not happening. She was not ready to face him. It did not make any sense for him to call at the parsonage, except possibly for Colonel Fitzwilliam's sake.

"Lizzy, please!"

Elizabeth knew she could not dismiss herself from the callers. She would have to get this over with, and then do her best to recover--to pick up her lifeless body, and start all over again.

The gentlemen came as expected, and were greeted with more than enough enthusiasm from Mr. Collins. Elizabeth was able to maintain her expression when they walked into the parlor, and even smiled Darcy's way, but without making direct eye contact. Colonel Fitzwilliam could not hide his pleasure at seeing Elizabeth again. He complimented her on how well she looked, and Elizabeth noticed that he glanced over at Mr. Darcy at that moment.

Darcy sat down near a corner, letting Colonel Fitzwilliam have the closest seat. He then inquired about her health and the state of her family, to which she answered politely, only glancing at him once. But even with that one look, she saw pain in his eyes. She knew those eyes, and her very presence pained him. Tears almost welled up. She did everything she could, to keep from excusing herself, and running upstairs to throw herself upon her bed. Why did he have to come?

Darcy was at his own loss. He had been scorned by Elizabeth time and time again, during the wedding festivities. He tried to get near her, to converse with her--anything, but she would always have an excuse to move to the opposite side of the room, or would suddenly be very occupied by one of her young cousins. He swore he saw tears in her eyes more than once, and he knew he was responsible for them. He was responsible for the pain and humiliation she felt. Her encounter with Wickham was his fault entirely, and it tortured him. He could not sleep for seeing Elizabeth running toward him, and seeing Wickham bent over, but smirking in the background.

And now, he came to somehow make amends to her, to explain everything, and throw himself on her mercy. But seeing her once again, and not knowing how to approach her, unnerved him. He brought Fitzwilliam with the hopes that he could somehow work on Elizabeth for him. He knew it was cowardly, but at least Elizabeth would talk to him, and not run away.

The gentlemen took their leave after about fifteen minutes, leaving Mr. Collins in raptures about what illustrious guests he had entertained, and how very honored he was to have such a patroness who would attract such persons. He was then very distracted and determined to have a very fitting sermon come Sunday, to suit the visitors in the congregation. Perhaps it should be on the parable of the lost coin, or possibly King Solomon, and his visit from the Queen of Sheba.

One day later, an invitation came from Rosings for a formal dinner for the following evening. Once again, Mr. Collins could not be contained. He pressed his young guests to understand just how fortunate they were, to be included in such company as this. Elizabeth shook her head, having been in company like this plenty of times. But she could not shake off her dread at having to spend an entire evening pretending that she did not spend a quarter of an hour pressed up against him. That his arms did not pull her into his very being, and that she had not felt safer in her entire life then she did those fleeting moments. She did not feel equal to it, but did not know how to get out of it either.

Elizabeth opened her eyes the next morning. The sun poured through her window and made her blink, and turn her face. She had to concentrate to remember where she was, for the sun temporarily blinded her, and she had a fleeting thought that she was back at the Gardiner's. She smiled for a moment, remembering the dinner where Mr. Darcy teased and put her at ease, and how she tried not to laugh when the pheasant came into the room on the massive platter. She expected despair to come crashing over her musing, as it did when she indulged herself for even the briefest of moments. She braced herself, but nothing came. She sat up, a little surprised at her overall mood, and looked around. She saw her trunk in the corner. She could not miss it, for the beams through the window spilled across the room and onto it.

She put her feet on the floor and made her way over to the trunk. She opened it, and at that moment, something odd came over her. She had not thought about what she would wear to dinner at Rosings. Last night, she was still thinking up ways to get out of the obligation. Elizabeth had worn her nicest Hertfordshire gowns to Rosings, but for some reason, she did think it was necessary to pull out a new gown for tonight. The deep green silk. Her favorite. The one her younger sisters fought openly over when they saw it. She could hear Mademoiselle Adele's French accent in her head, and see the beauty spot trying to jump off of her powdered face.

"You will call your beloved to you, when you wear zees."

Yes, she would wear the dress. She looked at it as an elaborate costume now, and she could play the part of the beautiful, but persecuted heroine, who was to dine with the very people who wished her harm--who very well might want to poison her. Elizabeth thought that she could at least laugh inside, as she watched the very dress that was supposed to draw her beloved to her, repel instead. How Elizabeth loved irony.

Charlotte smiled knowingly when Elizabeth came down the stairs that evening. She was well aware how beautiful her friend was, but seeing her in the exquisite gown with her hair arranged so, made her see that Elizabeth was destined for something more, and she was pleased to know it.

"Lizzy, you look more than lovely," Charlotte enthused.

Maria came down at that moment, and gasped when she saw her. "Oh my! Lizzy! Where did you ever get that gown? It is so beautiful!"

"My aunt had it made for me when I was in London. I never had a chance to wear this one." Elizabeth looked down at her dress, smiling. "The dressmaker told me that my future husband would find me in this. I am wearing it as a joke, since… well, since not even a footman would dare look at me at Rosings."

"You know better than that, Lizzy," Charlotte answered. "I can imagine a couple pairs of eyes that will be drawn to you, and your dress this evening."

Maria giggled.

"Hush, Charlotte," was all Elizabeth could reply before Mr. Collins came down the stairs. He looked around, and then his eyes stopped on Elizabeth, and they widened.

"My dear cousin! How well you look this evening, and such an elegant gown you have. I certainly think that Lady Catherine will not mind seeing you in such finery since you are, in fact, a gentleman's daughter. No, I think she will find it very appropriate considering the company we are to keep this evening. My, such a dress! It suits your eyes! Your attire does you service, cousin Elizabeth. A finer lady would definitely outshine you in many aspects, but you will be a sterling addition to our party this evening, if I do say so myself."

Elizabeth wished at that moment, she could change into her breakfast robe and thick boots, but it was too late.

Darcy spent too much time deciding what to wear. He had his valet bring him five coats before he decided on one. He was upset at himself for being so nervous. Such a hold Elizabeth had on him, and she had no idea.

When Elizabeth left Hertfordshire, Darcy was not aware of her absence, until he came to call at Longbourn. Mrs. Bennet was more than surprised to see him, and had no idea that he came to see Elizabeth.

"Miss Elizabeth is off to Kent to visit the new Mrs. Collins. She has recently married our cousin, Mr. Collins. I think that you are acquainted with him."

She offered him tea, but he contrived a reason not to stay, and left saying that he only came to bring news of the newly weds' safe arrival in Bath.

The Colonel entered Darcy's chambers, and laughed at his cousin, when he saw the pile of discarded coats.

"Darcy, you coxcomb, are you not done preening yet? Our guests will arrive soon, and Lady Catherine will break your ankle herself, if you are late. And then you will see if there are any angels here to come to your rescue."

"You are not making things easier for me, as you should, Fitzwilliam," Darcy answered.

"Yes, you want me to get the lovely Miss Elizabeth Bennet to talk to you." Fitzwilliam walked behind Darcy as he worked on his cravat in the mirror. "The secret, Cousin, is to talk with her yourself, and not stay in a corner sighing, and looking stupid."

"Ever since her encounter with Wickham, she has avoided me. She will barely even look my way. You have seen it."

"Think of how mortified she must be, Darcy! Wickham could have done much worse, and she might be under the impression that you think more happened than what actually did. The poor thing must think that you think very ill of her. You must make her see that you are not affected at all by what transpired. Let her know that you are at ease around her. Let her see that she is highly thought of, and wait for her to look your way again."

He turned to face Darcy. "I have seen her look at you in a most particular way before, and it almost killed me."

"What if she will not forgive me, Fitzwilliam?"

"Miss Bennet seems a forgiving, merciful soul, but you have to wait for the right time and place for that. No confessions this evening. Tonight, you need to win her. You know my feelings. I would have you at swords end if I did not have to worry about fortune, Darcy. She is the loveliest woman I have ever met… I hate you for it, but I will hope for you all the same, as I cannot even enter the game."

At dinner, Elizabeth sat in between Colonel Fitzwilliam and Mr. Darcy. If it were not for the seriousness of what happened to Elizabeth, and his own feelings toward the lady, the Colonel would think this a great joke. Darcy was struggling with his overwhelming feelings for this beautiful woman sitting next to him. Her eyes, her hair, the scent of lavender and roses had him shifting in his seat. He could not decide which impulse was stronger: to tell her how much he loved her, or to run from the room--or both, in that order. Elizabeth wanted nothing more than to be placed at the opposite end of the table.

What was not a joke was how very stunning Elizabeth looked. Her large eyes picked up the very shade of her gown, and shown out like emeralds from under her thick lashes in the candlelight. Her deep brown hair was swept up with a few loose curls caressing her ivory neck and pink cheeks. And the cut of her dress showed off her pleasing form to great advantage. Once again, Colonel Fitzwilliam was well aware what he suffered for being the second born son. He was certain would have fought and won Elizabeth's heart, if he had his father's title. It would not have been a fair fight with Darcy's natural shyness, and his own easy openness.

Even Lady Catherine had to remark on how handsome Elizabeth looked that evening, but also commented on how crudely her sleeves were made. They were not at all in proportion with the rest of her gown. She offered her own dressmaker to work on them, but Elizabeth graciously declined, mentioning that smaller sleeves were in fashion in London this season.

Fitzwilliam purposely stayed out of conversation with Elizabeth, in order to give Darcy a chance. He shot Darcy a look behind Elizabeth's head, and would have kicked him under the table, if he could be sure he would not kick Elizabeth instead. Darcy got the hint. He took a quiet breath and turned toward Elizabeth.

"Miss Bennet, have you heard recently from your sister, the new Mrs. Bingley?" He did his best to look unaffected and easy, although his stomach was churning.

Without turning, Elizabeth answered. "Yes, I received a letter yesterday."

"And did she and Mr. Bingley seem well?" He smiled, even though she did not look his way.

"Yes, they both seemed to be enjoying Bath, though there has been much rain." Elizabeth nodded his way, but still did not turn her eyes from her plate.

At that moment, Lady Catherine spoke. "Miss Bennet, I understand that you are previously known to both my nephews."

"Yes, Ma'am. I had the pleasure of meeting Mr. Darcy in Hertfordshire last fall, and I met Colonel Fitzwilliam in town this winter."

"You seem to be in many places, Miss Bennet. Such a young woman to be flitting off in every direction. I wonder if you might be leaving us soon for a grander location," Lady Catherine poked.

"Not at all, your ladyship. I will return to Hertfordshire when the month is up," she answered patiently.

"I find Hertfordshire a dull, and dirty county. And you have grown up there. I do not wonder at you leaving at any opportunity, Miss Bennet."

Lady Catherine did not wait to hear Elizabeth's reply, and was on to another subject with Charlotte, when Darcy leaned slightly toward her, and spoke in a low, but very familiar voice.

"Do you think my aunt might be serving pheasant tonight, Miss Bennet?"

Elizabeth could not help but color at the joke. She was more than surprised. She was thinking that Mr. Darcy was only doing his duty to make light conversation, because she sat so near him. But there was no reason to make a private joke if he was simply being courteous. She turned her head slightly to meet his gaze. He was smiling at her with a smile she had known, and secretly grown quite fond of, and it took her breath away.

She stared at him for several seconds, measuring the depths of his eyes. Trying to read what he was so desperately trying to put forward. She finally developed a small, cautious smile.

"Once again, Mr. Darcy, I was thinking that I was the only one in this room capable of such thoughts."

"Never underestimate the virtues of a well cooked pheasant, Miss Bennet," he teased.

Elizabeth's spirits were immediately lifted. The dinner that she dreaded, being seated next to the second-to-last-person on earth she wanted to see, had taken a surprising turn. She came in costume, to play a part, to act the heroine, but she was being pulled into her own very genuine story.

Mr. Darcy was suddenly all at ease, as he had been in London. As he had been for a few short minutes under a tree, all too long ago. Did her unfortunate encounter with Wickham not have the negative effect she thought? Did she imagine that? Could he be actually thinking of her? It was all too much! She could not quite wrap her mind around it, yet he sat next to her waiting for a reply.

Elizabeth turned and looked at him from under her long lashes, and kept her voice low.

"I put my hopes in a cooked pheasant once, Mr. Darcy. I will not make the same mistake again. Besides, if the pheasant succeeded, then whom would be there to rectify the horror of my sleeves?"

Darcy smiled even bigger, knowing that he was succeeding, and also that he could once again see those amazing eyes sparkle at him. He thought of almost nothing, then when he held her so close, enveloping her small shivering body. She smelled like a field of lavender that day, and in that coat she still lingered. How he wanted to hold her again. How he wanted her to know just how much he ardently loved and admired her… so he quelled any imbecilic impulse he had, and focused on expressing his admiration properly.

"Miss Bennet, there is nothing wrong with your sleeves. Although, I would have not noticed them at all, if Lady Catherine's comment had not pried my eyes from your lovely face. You are quite a vision this evening." He smiled, but held a seriousness within his eyes, that he prayed Elizabeth would read and understand.

She looked at him curiously for a few seconds, then smiled and turned away. Heat rushed to her face. She was astonished. Not only was he teasing her, but he was complimenting her right in front of his relations. She glanced over and met Colonel Fitzwilliam's smile. She was sure that he heard everything, and yet he did not blink.

She decided right then, that she was going to wear this dress everywhere.

Mr. Darcy stayed attentive during dinner. They were joined in conversation by Fitzwilliam, when he was certain that Darcy made enough progress to do so. Lady Catherine did her best to have a hand in each conversation, and would demand to know what was being said out of her earshot. Charlotte noticed Darcy's attentions to her friend, but endeavored not to look too often, as she did not want to alert Lady Catherine to it.

After dinner, Elizabeth was applied to, or rather ordered to play at the pianoforte. Lady Catherine had heard her before, and did not hold back her criticism in front of the gentlemen. Elizabeth bore it like a saint and continued to play, and considered it fortunate that she was not asked to sing. Colonel Fitzwilliam offered to turn the pages for her, as Darcy was at the great lady's service.

"Miss Bennet, you look remarkably well this evening, but I overheard Darcy phrase it much more eloquently," he remarked watching her closely.

"I thank you for your compliment, Colonel Fitzwilliam. You and your cousin are all politeness," she declared while she continued to play.

"Politeness has nothing to do with it, I assure you," the gentleman noted.

Elizabeth did not know where this was leading, so she continued to read the music in front of her, and play to the best of her ability.

"My cousin is not one to give out compliments unless they are truly warranted."

Elizabeth glanced over at the Colonel, not knowing what she was looking for. He smiled warmly, and she looked back at her music, all the while playing.

"I once talked with you about sincerity, Miss Bennet. May I sincerely say, that I do not think I have known anyone more sincere than my cousin? He does not trifle or flatter. Everything he does and says, is heartfelt, I assure you."

Elizabeth stopped playing without even knowing it. She looked over at the Colonel with such a puzzled look. Lady Catherine heard the break in the music, and commented.

"You will never play well, Miss Bennet, if you do not practice. You may come here and use the pianoforte in Mrs. Jenkinson's room. You will be in nobody's way in that part of the house." Lady Catherine continued to speak of her great knowledge and appreciation of music, that few could attain, and Mr. Collins agreed with her profusely.

At that, Darcy walked away from the lady, and toward the pianoforte. Elizabeth immediately began where she had left off, not knowing what to think, now that he approached. Not knowing how to act. Did Colonel Fitzwilliam just inform her that Mr. Darcy had designs on her? She did her best to get her fingering right, and not to make any further mistakes.

"Ah, Darcy… Do you think that we will be in no one's way in that part of the house as well?" the Colonel asked with a smirk.

Elizabeth could not help but to smile at Colonel Fitzwilliam's joke.

"You and I were always in the way at Rosings, Richard. I remember playing Hide-and-Go-Seek when we were very young, along with your brother, and you hid in Lady Catherine's bed, only to have her come in for a nap, and almost lay on top of you," Darcy mused.

"Yes, I must have laid as still as I could for a quarter of an hour, barely breathing, until the great lady turned over and almost crushed me. I could get no air, and had no recourse but to gasp and claw my way out from under her."

Both gentlemen quelled their laughter for the sake of not catching Lady Catherine's ear, and Elizabeth did the same. She played now for the sole purpose of cloaking the tête-à-tête.

"And that is when you became her favorite, Darcy. I still have half a mind to tell her that you were hiding underneath her bed."

"You would not dare, Richard, for she would never believe you," Darcy added with a sly smile.

"You are probably right, Darcy. I cannot win. It is a fact." Fitzwilliam turned to Elizabeth, and waited a couple of seconds before he spoke again, looking at what he lost, and then finding himself again.

"After she got over the shock of her small bedmate, and we both ceased screaming, she had me by my ear, and dragged me down three flights of stairs to my mother." Fitzwilliam rubbed his ear. "I still think that this one is a good half inch higher because of it."

"And what is your excuse for that side of your nose?" Darcy asked dryly, nodding to the left side of Fitzwilliam's face.

This time Colonel Fitzwilliam could not help but to laugh out loud. They all cringed at the same time, waiting for her Ladyship to demand a part in the conversation, but somehow they escaped unheard.

"Come now, gentlemen," Elizabeth chided while still playing. "Should you be separated into opposite corners? Or shall I have Lady Catherine come take you each by the ear, to make you behave? You will get all three of us in trouble if you keep this up."

"You are right, Miss Bennet. We would not want to get you in trouble. I beg your forgiveness. We shall wait until you leave, before we spar in the great hall, and knock down an ancient and irreplaceable suit of armor." Mr. Darcy ended his speech, just as Elizabeth finished her piece.

"I'm glad to hear it, Mr. Darcy. For sparring with me, is a dangerous endeavor, indeed, if you recall. There would be more than ancient suits of armor to worry about."

Elizabeth stood up, as did Fitzwilliam. "I think I will join the rest of the party, before I find Lady Catherine rolling on top of me." She curtsied to the two beaming gentlemen, and crossed the room to Charlotte.

Elizabeth sat down; her ears hot and mind racing. Charlotte, noticed her friend's faint smile and slight discomposure. She looked past Elizabeth and saw the two gentlemen with great smiles on their faces, refreshing their drinks.

It had been a remarkable evening, and Charlotte had missed it.

As Elizabeth was readying herself for bed, a knock came at her door. Charlotte slid in and closed the door behind her. She looked at Elizabeth with a knowing smile until Elizabeth could bear it no longer.

"Charlotte! What is it?" she exclaimed with a low voice.

"I am afraid that it is you who needs to disclose something to me, Lizzy."

Charlotte grabbed Elizabeth's hand and pulled her to sit upon the bed with her. She looked at her straight in the eyes.

"Lizzy. What is going on? You seemed to have a very eventful evening. Tell me that I am not right."

Elizabeth looked down. She was not sure what had happened. She did not know what to say.

"Charlotte… I did have a pleasant evening, but I do not think there is anything to share."

"La! I saw Mr. Darcy's attentions to you. I saw you blush more than once. And I saw him laugh! Mr. Darcy laughed! A thing I did not think was possible. What is going on, Lizzy?"

"I have not made sense of it myself, Charlotte. Please, I am not keeping anything from you. I am just as astonished as you are, believe me. He can be so reserved and severe at one moment, and then charming and delightful the next."

Charlotte thought for a moment. "His cousin is all light and easy. Perhaps having Colonel Fitzwilliam around helps Mr. Darcy to be himself."

"Perhaps," admitted Elizabeth.

"I have not forgot that Mr. Darcy's eyes were always fixed on you in Hertfordshire, Lizzy. He singled you out to dance at the Netherfield ball, and his attentions were all on you this evening… Did you see any of him when you were in London?"

Elizabeth did not want to meet her gaze, but Charlotte stared once again, until Elizabeth could bear it no more.

"I saw Mr. Darcy, his cousin, and Miss Darcy frequently in London. I danced with him at a ball. He called at my uncle's house with his sister, and I called frequently on Miss Darcy before I came back for Jane's wedding," she confessed.

"Did Mr. Darcy treat you in the same manner in London, as he did this evening?" Charlotte carefully questioned.

Elizabeth nodded quietly.

"Lizzy! He is obviously in love with you!"

"Hush, Charlotte! He is not. There are other factors at play here. As charming as he was this evening, that man has a temper that I cannot trust. And Charlotte, he would never think of me. He could not… not after…" Elizabeth broke off and could not continue.

Charlotte saw that something was distressing Elizabeth. She sat closer to her friend and put her arm around her.

"What is it, Lizzy? Why would Mr. Darcy not think of you?"

Elizabeth had not told one soul. Only Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy were in on the secret, but she never had to utter a word to them. Now here was Charlotte, full of compassion and concern for her. How could Elizabeth not share what has been caught up in her chest for weeks now?

But she could not do it. She could not tell Charlotte her distress. Elizabeth had never given it words. Words would somehow give what happened a new life. She was afraid words would make Mr. Wickham reappear. And she did not, once again, feel his vindictive lips on hers. Not tonight. She looked up at Charlotte.

"Our spheres are very different ones, Charlotte. He does not want a country bride of little means. He means to make an advantageous alliance. My family and relations must be revolting to him. I must be revolting to him."

Charlotte waited patiently for Elizabeth to finish. "Lizzy, I need you to listen to me. Carefully. If Mr. Darcy had no thoughts of you, if he felt you so far beneath him, there would have been no visit to our cottage so soon, and certainly no dinner invitation. Lady Catherine has never invited Mr. Collins over when family comes. It was obviously at her nephew's request." She looked at Elizabeth in earnest.

"If Mr. Darcy was only being polite, there was no reason to engage you so particularly, Lizzy. You know him better than that."

Charlotte put her finger under Elizabeth's chin to make her raise her face. "I heard him tell you that you were a vision tonight. There is no explanation for that, other than cruelty, if he did not mean it."

Elizabeth looked down again.

"Lizzy, do you think that Mr. Darcy is being cruel to you?" Charlotte demanded.

Charlotte waited until Elizabeth was ready.

"Lizzy?"

"No. I do not think Mr. Darcy means to be cruel to me."

"Fine. You have your answer. Now let us just wait and see how this unfolds." She kissed Elizabeth's cold hands and looked at her once more in the eyes.

"If I was not already married, Lizzy, I would ask to borrow that green dress of yours!"