Beginning, Next Section

Prologue

Posted on 2010-11-11

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here in the sight of God, and in the face of this congregation, to join together this Man and this Woman in holy Matrimony; which is an honourable estate, instituted of God in the time of man's innocency, signifying unto us the mystical union that is betwixt Christ and his Church…"

Elizabeth felt her eyes unwillingly travel to the man standing beside the groom. She endeavoured to control her giddy emotions, struggling for breath, and fighting the nausea and dizziness which had assailed her from the moment he had entered the church.

"Wilt thou have this Woman to thy wedded Wife, to live together after God's ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honour, and keep her in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?"

"I will," said Charles Bingley, eagerly.

"Wilt thou have this Man to thy wedded Husband, to live together after God's ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou obey him, and serve him, love, honour, and keep him in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live?"

"I will," replied Jane Bennet.

Elizabeth stood beside Kitty, with whom she shared the honour of bridesmaid. She had not seen Mr. Darcy since the dinner her mother had given in September with the intention of forwarding a match between Jane and Mr. Bingley. Mr. Darcy had soon afterwards departed Hertfordshire for London and had not returned, despite his friend's expectation that he would do so within ten days. He came neither to congratulate Mr. Bingley upon his engagement to Miss Bennet, nor to lend his support during his friend's season of courtship, with the multitude of invitations about the neighbourhood. Mr. Bingley was too full of delight and joy at his own good fortune, and far too much in love, to allow his friend's inconsiderate behaviour to diminish his happiness.

"With this Ring I thee wed, with my Body I thee worship, and with all my worldly Goods I thee endow: In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen," recited Bingley as he slid the wedding ring onto his bride's finger.

Why had Mr. Darcy stayed away from Hertfordshire until today – in breach of what was owed at such a time to his closest friend? Elizabeth asked herself. And like the countless nights that she had lain awake, brooding over that vexing question, she inevitably arrived at the same inescapable answer: To avoid seeing me; it is the only explanation.

"O Eternal God, Creator and Preserver of all mankind, Giver of all spiritual grace, the Author of everlasting life; Send thy blessing upon these thy servants, this Man and this Woman, whom we bless in thy Name…"

On what should have been the happiest day of her life, thus far, Elizabeth struggled to overcome her own heartache and confusion. She was truly delighted for Jane; but it was a bittersweet emotion, for Jane's union must inevitably bring her into the company of Mr. Bingley's friend. Elizabeth drew a deep breath; she must find the strength to control her emotions and force herself to behave with civility and disinterest towards Mr. Darcy – for Jane's sake.

"…I pronounce that they be Man and Wife together, In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen."

As fate would have it, just as Elizabeth turned to follow the bride and groom from the church, Mr. Darcy also turned. For the briefest of moments, they faced each other across the aisle and their eyes met. His cheeks crimson, Mr. Darcy immediately withdrew his gaze and fixed his face in a steadfast mask of haughty disdain that pierced Elizabeth's heart like a jagged shard of ice. "Give me your arm, Kitty," she begged, "for I feel faint."

Kitty obliged. "Why Lizzy," she whispered, "I do believe you have fallen into a swoon; I am surprised to see you so affected by our sister's wedding."

As they exited the church into the pale sunlight, all eyes were upon Jane and Mr. Bingley, thus allowing Elizabeth to escape scrutiny in her agitated and distressed state. As she walked towards Longbourn, still resting on her sister's arm, Elizabeth drew deep breaths of the invigorating air of the cool October morning, which somewhat revived her. I have only the wedding breakfast to endure, she thought. Then he will be gone, and I shall be myself again; I shall be once more at my ease.

As it transpired, Elizabeth had no further trials to endure that day, for against all propriety and what was expected of a groomsman, Mr. Darcy absented himself from the wedding breakfast, straightaway returning to London.

Chapter 1 ~ A Husband for Miss Bennet

Jane and Bingley decided to wait until the spring, when the weather would be warmer, to take their wedding tour, and thus passed the first months of their married life in London, returning only briefly to Netherfield Park for the Christmas festivities, after which Bingley gave up the Hertfordshire residence entirely. Jane had wished for Elizabeth to accompany her to town, but her mother insisted that she was needed at Longbourn, and so Kitty went in her stead. Elizabeth was well aware of why her mother required her at home; with Jane now married, she was next in line for her mother's matrimonial schemes – it being a rule universally acknowledged, that an elder daughter must be married before her younger sisters are put forward. Lydia, of course, wilful creature that she was, had taken matters into her own hands – and in contravention of far greater proprieties than that of awaiting her turn at the altar.

The husband Mrs. Bennet had settled upon for her second daughter was the new rector of Longbourn, Mr. Septimus Tiddlington, who had officiated at Jane's wedding. Mrs. Bennet took every opportunity of inviting the young rector to dine with them, and always contrived to seat him beside Elizabeth. He must be a complete fool, thought Elizabeth, if he does not see what my mother is about.

In consequence of the abundant opportunities thus afforded her for conversing with him, Elizabeth decided that notwithstanding his complete innocence with regard to her mother's matrimonial schemes, he was not in the least bit a fool; although due to a propensity to self-effacement and an idiosyncratic character, he might, upon superficial acquaintance, be taken for one. He had reddish hair and a large round face with generous ears protruding on either side. Elizabeth found his appearance more comical than repulsive. He was excessively shy, but when encouraged to speak, revealed himself to be thoughtful and learned, with a good grounding in the classics. He was exceedingly fond of music, and his greatest love was playing the violin – although he steadfastly refused to perform before others. Regrettably, his affinity for music caused him great unease, for he feared it betrayed an inclination towards worldliness which was unbefitting a clergyman.

"But surely music is a gift from God," Elizabeth reassured him. "Does it not behove us to welcome His gifts and appreciate them?" They were at the dining table, and the rector had been speaking enthusiastically of an Italian composition he had recently mastered, but his joy and happiness at contemplating the beauty of the music had very quickly given way to guilt and self-admonishment. Elizabeth's attempt at relieving his suffering had a most marked effect.

"Do you really think so, Miss Bennet?" he asked earnestly. "Of course I have often dared to entertain that very thought myself; but then I begin to wonder if I am not being tempted by the Devil into believing that music is Godly simply because I love it so. Do you not see my predicament, Miss Bennet?" he beseeched.

Elizabeth noticed the wry smile on the face of her father at the head of the table, and struggling to maintain an air of seriousness, she reassured him, "Indeed I do believe it, sir, most wholeheartedly. And since I am no great lover or performer of music myself, you must agree that my opinion must be wholly without self-interest, and may thus be relied upon."

"Miss Bennet, I am greatly indebted to you, for your wise counsel," he said, bowing his head so low that his pince-nez fell from his long, narrow, sensitive nose into his soup. Elizabeth endeavoured to maintain a straight face as the poor man awkwardly fished them out and attempted to clean them on his napkin. She dared not look in the direction of her father, whose expression was certain to unleash the laughter she was barely managing to suppress. Mr. Bennet derived great enjoyment from the eccentricities of his fellow man, and was especially appreciative of the abundant foibles of the young clergyman. He was grateful to his good wife for the frequent invitations she extended him; and while easily comprehending her motive, he was not in the least concerned that her scheme would meet with the slightest success.

Elizabeth was unable to share her father's complacency, for she sensed that the time was inevitably approaching when the young clergyman, girded by her mother's constant encouragements, might summon the courage to pay her his addresses; and she dreaded having to refuse him. He was so gentle and artless; rejection, she feared, would cause him great pain.

The idea of marriage, she was convinced, had not yet crossed his innocent mind prior to his acquaintance with Mrs. Bennet, who took every opportunity to extol the virtues of the institution and to assure the young man that he would be far happier, and his life made inestimably more comfortable, by the addition of a mistress to the parsonage. She questioned him concerning his household affairs, and invariably concluded that his servants were cheating him and taking gross advantage of his amiable nature; a wife was essential for the proper running of the establishment, she assured him, and would soon take his wayward servants in hand.

However, the unworldly clergyman was so disinterested in such mundane considerations that these attacks had little effect. Mrs. Bennet had more success when she amended her strategy and approached from the side of duty, with frequent exhortations on the responsibilities of a clergyman – the chief of them being to set the example of matrimony in his parish. Entirely unaware of Mrs. Bennet's self-interested scheming, the young man took this advice to heart, and it was but a very small step from being persuaded that he must marry to deciding that the elder Miss Bennet might do admirably – if she would deign to have him. He had always been excessively shy in the company of young ladies, but Miss Bennet possessed the gift of putting him at his ease. Had she not soothed his anxieties about the probity of his attachment to music? And was her company not pleasant and enjoyable? His only qualm was with regard to Miss Bennet's beauty, to which even he could not be insensible. Is it reasonable to hope that so beautiful a lady could be reconciled to accepting a person as undeniably plain as myself? And does not an attraction to physical form signify a tendency towards lustfulness? He feared very much that it might.

While the young rector was struggling inwardly with this sudden surge of desire, and endeavouring not to be led into temptation, Elizabeth was contemplating the vexing problem of how to decline the young man without causing him undue suffering. As to her mother, Elizabeth had little doubt of the angry outpourings that would be levelled at her. Having expended so much effort on her ungrateful daughter's behalf, Mrs. Bennet would be apoplectic with rage. It would be worse, even, than when she had refused Mr. Collins. Her father would most certainly support her actions; but rather than mollify her mother, it would only serve to further infuriate her.

Elizabeth was resigned to the mortification she must cause her mother. At least it shall serve one useful purpose, she thought. It must surely put an end to my mother's attempts at finding me husbands. It may even convince her that I was entirely sincere when I confessed to her that I had no wish to follow my elder sister into matrimony. When Elizabeth made this startling revelation, shortly after Jane's marriage, her mother had refused to believe her. "Don't be silly, Lizzy, of course you must marry. You do not know what you are about, child! It is only that you have not yet met the right man; that is all."

If only she knew, reflected Elizabeth. Indeed, she had met the right man – the one whom she wished to marry above everything else in the world; but he had disappointed her. She had been driven almost to distraction, attempting to fathom Mr. Darcy's feelings for her. She had relived their meetings in Derbyshire a thousand times, and could come to no other conclusion than that he had forgiven her the angry and unjust rejection of his addresses in Kent – and that against all the odds – he still loved her. All his actions confirmed it: his eagerness to introduce her to his sister, and the warmth and passion of all his looks. What other explanation could there be for him riding to Lambton on the very morning that Jane's alarming letters concerning Lydia had arrived, other than to renew his addresses?

And why would he have subjected himself to the degradation and considerable financial cost of bribing George Wickham to marry Lydia; a foolish young girl whom he could not possibly respect or care about? Elizabeth could see no explanation other than that advanced by her Aunt Gardiner: he had done it for her, to ease the abject suffering he had witnessed at their last meeting at the inn at Lambton. And, conjectured Elizabeth, for himself also: Darcy could not have made her his wife in the face of the deep disgrace that would have been the lot of her family, had Lydia not been either swiftly detached from Wickham and closeted somewhere, away from the world, or else very quickly wed to the rogue.

Elizabeth was all too aware of the danger of misjudging Mr. Darcy's feelings – as she had so abjectly misjudged them in the past. She was alive to the temptation of interpreting events in the best possible light – which might confirm what she so ardently wished to believe. But what other explanation could there be for his returning into Hertfordshire with Mr. Bingley, if it was not with the resolve of renewing his addresses to her? And if he had behaved awkwardly, and without the openness and warmth he had shown in Derbyshire, it was not very surprising. Her mother had gone out of her way to make him feel unwelcome; in such circumstances he could hardly be expected to feel at ease. Elizabeth understood him well enough by now to know that in such situations he appeared haughty and reserved, when in fact he felt awkward and embarrassed.

After Mr. Darcy's departure for London, Charles Bingley had spoken with conviction of his friend's intention of returning within ten days. But Mr. Darcy did not return. Why? Why has he forsaken me? Elizabeth asked herself again and again. The recent awkwardness aside, his every action up to that point had suggested the constancy of his love, and his desire to marry her. What was it that caused him to change his mind?

The words of his aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, echoed in Elizabeth's mind: Very well. I shall now know how to act. Do not imagine, Miss Bennet, that your ambition will ever be gratified. I came to try you. I hoped to find you reasonable; but, depend upon it, I will carry my point.

Lady Catherine must have travelled directly to London after the unsatisfactory interview at Longbourn, and there met with her nephew and persuaded him not to marry her. That much was clear. But how, wondered Elizabeth, did she succeed in prevailing upon him?

Elizabeth could think of nothing. There was no argument, no assertion the aunt could have made of which Mr. Darcy was not himself already aware. He knew better than his aunt the circumstances of her family; the history of her younger sister, Lydia; the identity and descent of her new brother-in-law, Wickham, by whom the shades of Pemberley were to be polluted. Certainly the aunt would have given a most disparaging account of Elizabeth's conduct and language and all that transpired in their acrimonious conversation in the wilderness at Longbourn. She would have acquainted her nephew with her unequivocally unfavourable judgement of herself as an unfeeling, selfish, obstinate, and headstrong girl.

But how could Mr. Darcy have been swayed by such prejudiced remarks? Elizabeth asked herself. Surely he must know that his aunt was acting from self-interest, from her wish that he should marry her own daughter. I cannot believe that he would place his aunt's estimation of my character above his own.

All through the dark, dreary months of winter, Elizabeth found herself unable to prevent her thoughts from straying endlessly into conjecture upon the cause of Mr. Darcy's behaviour. The weather was mostly bad, and lacking her customary vigour, she hardly set foot out of doors, even on the few mild days. Her mother, alarmed at her daughter's frequent listlessness and want of spirit, determined to call the apothecary, but Elizabeth would not countenance it. She knew very well what was the cause of her decline, and that there was nothing an apothecary could do to remedy it. She spent much of her time brooding alone in her room. Even when she was obliged to sit with her mother in the parlour, her mind was habitually engaged in the conundrum of Mr. Darcy's behaviour; the customary exchange of small talk with her mother and sisters requiring only a very small allotment of her faculties.

Despite her own less than idyllic experience of the institution, Mrs. Bennet was a resolute believer in the virtues of marriage. To her it was the panacea for every maidenly ill. What her daughter needed, she was convinced, was a husband – matrimony would set her right. Thus did she redouble her efforts in exhorting Mr. Tiddlington to take a wife, even going so far as to suggest, in private, that Miss Bennet would be an entirely suitable match for a clergyman such as himself, and that should he pay her his addresses, there could be no doubt of his being accepted.

"Elizabeth, my dear," said her mother, one afternoon following dinner, to which the good reverend had been invited, "it is such a lovely mild day; why do you not show our charming wilderness to Mr. Tiddlington; for I am certain he would enjoy it."

Elizabeth was alarmed at the meaningful wink she caught her mother giving the young rector, who blushed and stuttered his consent to the scheme. There could be no doubt that a proposal of marriage was imminent. How could she reject his addresses without hurting him and injuring so timid and gentle a soul? she wondered.

They walked silently towards the wilderness in the weak winter sunlight, the young clergyman desperately attempting to gather his courage for the daunting task that lay before him. Elizabeth's mind was so wholly engaged in finding a solution to her present predicament that, for the first time in many months, Mr. Darcy was entirely forgotten. Her best strategy, she decided, was to convince him of her lack of suitability; and if she could do so before he actually came to the point, then he might be spared the suffering of feeling rejected.

"Mr. Tiddlington, you must excuse my dear mother if she is sometimes a little over-zealous in espousing the benefits of matrimony and wishing that her every acquaintance should share in the joys of connubial felicity."

The rector froze; his face crimson. "I b…beg your pardon?" he whispered nervously, unable to look Elizabeth in the eye. He possessed very little information regarding the manner in which a gentleman should conduct himself when wishing to pay his addresses to a lady, and had only a very rudimentary idea of the formalities involved; however, he had always believed it to be the prerogative of the gentleman to instigate matters.

Elizabeth stopped walking also, and with a gentle sigh she added, "My sisters and I are quite inured to our mother's great enthusiasm for the institution of marriage, but for those who do not know her as we do, it is well to temper the zeal that she might engender with an equal portion of discretion."

"Discretion?" the rector asked, perplexed, before giving a nervous cough and walking on. "I regret to say that I am rather puzzled, Miss Bennet. Are you not disposed to… err, excuse me, what I am meaning to say is… err, do you disagree with your mother's views regarding marriage?"

"What I mean to say, sir, is that while marriage may be an excellent institution in general, it is only so if one chooses a suitable partner."

"Oh?" responded the rector. They had now entered the wilderness, and he stopped to ponder Elizabeth's words. "Yes, I had not considered that point at any great length. I imagine one must be guided by the recommendations of others. How else can one know who might be suitable?" he asked anxiously.

"I see, sir, that this is not a subject upon which you have much dwelt. Let me assure you that it is not quite so difficult as you imagine. One begins by undertaking an honest assessment of oneself: one's disposition, pastimes, interests; the things that one holds dear in life and considers important."

Mr. Tiddlington sat silently upon one of the stone benches with a furrowed brow, deep in thought. Finally he said, "Why, I hardly know; these are matters that I have never much contemplated."

"If you will allow me to take the liberty, sir, having recently spent some time in your company, perhaps I can be of some assistance, for I am a keen judge of character."

"Err… yes, by all means, please proceed if you will, Miss Bennet," he said warily.

"You are a thoughtful man, sir, more interested in knowledge and books on serious subjects than mere entertainment or the social round. You love music: both listening and playing. And you are a most diligent clergyman, who is anxious to perform his religious duties with dignity and respect."

The rector sat for some time in contemplative silence before responding with uncharacteristic animation, "Your perspicacity astounds me, Miss Bennet. Yes, yes, I think you must be right. I am entirely in accord with your analysis. And in order to find a suitable marriage partner I must identify a lady with similar qualities – is that it?" he asked, looking up uncertainly at Elizabeth, who was seated upon the bench opposite him.

"Yes, exactly," replied Elizabeth encouragingly.

Mr. Tiddlington lowered his gaze, and stared thoughtfully at the turf between them for some time before confiding uneasily, "I fear that I lack your abilities in judging character, Miss Bennet. It is not an exercise I have ever seriously engaged in."

"Oh, it is not at all difficult, sir, I can assure you. Take myself, for example. I read novels rather than serious books. I cannot imagine what my sister Mary finds so interesting in Fordyce's Sermons, but then she is more inclined to religion than am I. It is hardly surprising, I suppose; for unlike myself, my sister has a serious disposition. Her only concession to amusement is music."

"Why, yes," said the young clergyman thoughtfully, "you are entirely correct. How extraordinary that I should not have noticed," he mused, more to himself than to Elizabeth as he continued staring fixedly at the ground for some minutes before rising abruptly and turning towards Elizabeth. "This has been a most rewarding conversation, Miss Bennet, I thank you," he said, bowing solemnly.

As they walked back towards the house, Septimus Tiddlington shook his large head and wondered how he could have so badly misconstrued Mrs. Bennet's intentions; in naming Miss Bennet as a suitable marriage partner, she had clearly been referring to Miss Mary Bennet – not her elder sister Elizabeth! What a blind fool I have been, he admonished himself.

Following the reverend gentleman's next visit to Longbourn, Mrs. Bennet took Elizabeth aside. She was greatly agitated. "My dear Lizzy, I do not know what to make of it at all! Only last week I was quite certain that Mr. Tiddlington was on the point of paying you his addresses. Why, I had even hinted to him that he might do so in the expectation of receiving a favourable reception. But upon entering the dining room today, he immediately seated himself beside Mary, instead of you!"

"Yes, it was quite unexpected," replied Elizabeth suppressing a smile. "Although not perhaps entirely surprising. I have always thought that Mary's temperament was more in keeping with that of the rector than my own. It certainly seemed that they had a good deal to say to each other at the table; and there can be no doubt that he deliberately sought my sister out in the drawing-room, where they were again engaged in serious conversation. I cannot recall ever seeing Mary so animated."

"It was entirely vexing! I cannot understand what has gotten into that young man's head! I could hardly drag Mary away from him to open the instrument!"

"Yet when she played, her performance was uncommonly good, I thought, and rendered with a passion that is often wanting in her recital. Mr. Tiddlington looked to be deeply moved by her performance. I think, Mamma, I must resign myself to the truth that he prefers my sister Mary, to myself."

"Ridiculous!" exclaimed Mrs. Bennet. "Your sister is nothing compared to you, my dear! While I would be the last woman in the world to speak unflatteringly of any of her daughters, the truth of that matter is that Mary is dull and plain. She is the last one of you for whom I ever hoped to find a husband. Indeed, I believed it to be all but impossible. How could any man prefer her to you? It is entirely incomprehensible!"

"What you say, Mamma, may be true of most men; but Mr. Tiddlington, I suspect, is not like most men; he is quite unique. And wise too, I think, in perceiving that my sister, while not possessing those qualities that are generally valued in a prospective wife, nevertheless has the disposition that would best suit his own temperament."

"Yes, perhaps that is so," conceded her mother grudgingly. "Your sister will have a very pretty establishment at the parsonage. I am sure they will live very comfortably."

"And happily too, I imagine," added Elizabeth. Although she had planted the idea of the suitability of her sister in the rector's mind to deflect his attentions from herself, it was done in the firm belief that Mr. Tiddlington and Mary were indeed well suited to each other; a belief which their behaviour today seemed to confirm.

"But what of yourself, my dear? I begin to worry that I will never find you a husband," said her mother with a heartfelt sigh.

If only she would stop trying to find me one, thought Elizabeth, but there is no way to convince her that I do not wish to marry.

Following her disappointed hopes with Mr. Darcy, Elizabeth had decided that courtship was fraught with far too many difficulties and pitfalls. There seemed little likelihood of her ever meeting another gentleman so well suited to her temperament and with the superior qualities of character and mind which she had eventually come to apprehend Mr. Darcy possessed in abundance. And having known such a man, she knew that she would never be happy settling for anything less. Yet she doubted very much that she would ever meet his equal, or that another such as he existed in all of England.

With Jane well-married, and to so amiable and considerate a gentleman as Charles Bingley, Elizabeth knew she would always have a home with her sister, and that marriage was no longer a necessity for her future security. Not that this was in the least bit likely to deter her mother from endlessly attempting to marry her off. Mrs. Bennet quite clearly would not be happy, nor feel that she had discharged her maternal duties, until she had found husbands for all five of her daughters. And how lonely my poor mamma will then be, Elizabeth reflected wryly.

"With your sister Mary having gained Mr. Tiddlington's affections, I am quite at a loss as to whom you might try for. He is the only eligible bachelor in the entire district," said her mother, withdrawing into silence as she racked her brain for potential suitors for Elizabeth. "It is no good," she finally said. "I cannot think of anyone. I know! You must go to town and stay with your sister Jane; it is but the middle of February, London must be full of eligible young gentlemen, come up for the season. Lizzy, you must go at once!"

Chapter 2 ~ Fairfield Gardens

Posted on 2010-11-14

Charles Bingley had kindly offered his carriage to transport Kitty home to Longbourn and return to London with her older sister. In the short time afforded Elizabeth to question Kitty concerning arrangements at the Bingley residence at Fairfield Gardens, she learned that Mr. Darcy and his sister were in town and dined there often; and that the hospitality was returned with frequent invitations to Mr. Darcy's residence at Grosvenor Square. Caroline Bingley, who had been staying at Fairfield Gardens, had that very morning removed herself to the Hursts'. To avoid being in the same house as me, thought Elizabeth, and not without a sense of relief. But how would she endure being once more in Mr. Darcy's company?

As it transpired, Elizabeth had nothing to fear, for Mr. Darcy had evidently determined to avoid her. On the day following her arrival in town, Elizabeth was sitting with Jane in the morning room when the servant entered with a message for his mistress. "My goodness, how very peculiar," said Jane.

The message was from Miss Darcy, expressing her deep regret that she and her brother would not be able to keep a long-standing engagement to dine with them that day, on account of some urgent business which had unexpectedly arisen.

"Such as my arrival," said Elizabeth.

"Nonsense, Lizzy," replied Jane. "Why should it have anything to do with you? It is most uncharacteristic of Mr. Darcy to cancel an engagement at such short notice; something very serious must have arisen that demands his immediate attention."

"And would prevent Miss Darcy, also, from dining with us? I think not."

"I am certain that you are wrong, Lizzy. Our mother was so eager to have you come to town that Kitty's departure and your arrival all occurred exceedingly quickly; no one but ourselves can even be aware of it. Mr. Darcy cannot yet know that you are in town."

"Caroline Bingley knows," replied her sister; "she must have communicated the news to Grosvenor Square."

"Lizzy, you are making not the least bit of sense. Why should Mr. Darcy wish to avoid you? It is very nearly a year since you refused his offer of marriage in Kent. Surely you cannot believe that he still bears you so great a resentment that he would avoid dining with his closest friend. And remember – he came with Charles to wait on us at Longbourn upon their return into Hertfordshire, and accepted our mother's dinner invitation. If I recall correctly, he was entirely polite and civil towards you at Longbourn. Has something occurred since then which could have caused him to wish to avoid your company?"

Elizabeth decided that the time had come to confess the whole of her history with Mr. Darcy, both in Kent and in Derbyshire. Elizabeth concealed nothing, nor did she scruple to hide the details of the part Mr. Darcy had played in attempting to separate his friend from Jane, or how he had colluded with Bingley's sisters to conceal from him her presence in town the previous winter.

Jane sat silently shaking her head, occasionally gasping with surprise as her sister opened her heart to her. When she was finished, Jane said, "In light of what Mr. Darcy has done for our sister, Lydia, I cannot remain angry with him for his efforts in endeavouring to keep Charles and myself apart. Yet how strange it is that he was entirely powerless to overcome his feelings for you – and in fact paid you his addresses in Kent – when the very same objections he enumerated to you, compelled him to do everything in his power to prevent Charles from marrying me.

"And from what you now tell me of what transpired in Derbyshire, it seems that even your ruthless rejection of his suit in Kent was forgiven – that he was on the point of paying you his addresses a second time. It seems certain that his reason for riding to Lambton on your final morning there was to do just that; and had you not, on that very morning, received my letters with the awful news concerning Lydia, he would again have asked you to marry him."

"Yes," agreed Elizabeth, "it does seem probable. I have thought it over a great deal, and for a gentleman to come calling upon a lady staying at a public inn strikes me as peculiar, unless there be some particular purpose – to introduce his sister and have her issue an invitation to dine, for example – as was the case two days earlier. Furthermore, if it were merely a social call, his sister, whose acquaintance with myself he was at pains to forward, would have accompanied him."

"However," added Jane, "if his intention was to pay you his addresses, Mr. Darcy would have come alone; and had he found you in the company of others, he would doubtless have proposed a walk or some similar device in order to detach you from them and provide an opportunity for a tκte-ΰ-tκte."

"Yes. When I consider that we were, in fact, engaged to dine at Pemberley later that very same day, where there would be ample opportunity to converse – albeit not privately – the idea that he should come in the morning simply to pay a social call does not answer."

"I quite agree," replied Jane. "His purpose, almost certainly, was to pay you his addresses a second time. And do you know how you should have answered him?"

"Indeed I do. I was beginning to suspect it to be his intention, ever since our first meeting at Pemberley, when his behaviour was so altered, and he spoke of his desire to introduce his sister to my acquaintance. I was determined not to be surprised a second time."

"You would have accepted him, I think?"

"Yes, I believe I would," replied Elizabeth, giving a long, heartfelt sigh.

"Do you think he subsequently changed his mind on account of Lydia's elopement with Wickham?" asked Jane.

"At first I was certain that Lydia's disgrace must end all my hopes. How could so proud a man associate himself with such a family? However, when later the elopement was mitigated by marriage – though Mr. Darcy was familiar with all the details – I thought perhaps his dignity might be assuaged. But then there was the connection with George Wickham – how could I have expected Mr. Darcy to join himself with a family so intimately connected with a man he must detest and revile to the very depths of his soul?"

"But Lizzy, surely all the trouble and expense Mr. Darcy undertook to bring about the marriage cannot have been solely out of concern for Lydia, or even his professed guilt at having failed to inform the world of Mr. Wickham's black character. From what you now tell me of our Aunt Gardiner's letter to you, relating all the details concerning what Mr. Darcy has done for our sister – and of her conviction that in fact it was all done for you – I find I must concur with our aunt. Notwithstanding the history of Lydia and Wickham, he must still wish to marry you!"

"I will confess that at one time I did believe that regardless of everything, his affection for me had survived. Yet on the two occasions that he came to Longbourn with Bingley I was greatly vexed by his reserved behaviour; he hardly spoke, and seemed so grave and aloof. I wished to believe that his apparent coldness was on account of his uneasiness in the company – our mother took every opportunity of making him feel unwelcome.

"If his purpose in accompanying Bingley into Hertfordshire, and then joining him in visiting and dining with us at Longbourn, was on account of what he felt for me – which I consider most probable – then perhaps the very strength of those feelings caused him embarrassment, and gave the false impression of indifference. I may tell you that my own giddy emotions had just that effect upon me.

"On both occasions I had great difficulty settling it in my mind what were his true feelings for me; my surmises swung constantly, and wildly, from one extreme to the other.

"You may recall that soon after the dinner at Longbourn, Mr. Darcy departed Hertfordshire for London, with the stated intention of returning within ten days. I resolved that if he did not keep his undertaking then I would know how to understand it; I would relinquish every expectation, every wish for his constancy – and as you know, he did not return."

"I wonder why?" pondered Jane. "What you have said thus far convinces me that despite everything, Mr. Darcy wishes to marry you. I must tell you that he behaves with the utmost courtesy and kindness towards me; it is more than simply good manners or gallantry; I believe he truly respects and likes me. He has evidently overcome all the objections that formerly prompted him to separate Charles from myself; so he must likewise have overcome the same objections regarding you. Something must have happened to make him change his opinion of you. Whatever can it be?"

"The interference of his meddling aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, I suspect," said Elizabeth harshly, before proceeding to reveal the substance of her conversation with Lady Catherine at Longbourn. Jane was shocked at the confrontational nature of the meeting; however, her alarm at Elizabeth's outspoken defiance before so great a lady was tempered by a sense of admiration at her sister's courage.

"And having failed to prevail upon you, Lady Catherine immediately proceeded to London, and there endeavoured to persuade her nephew?"

"Yes," replied Elizabeth. "And evidently, she succeeded. She is a clever woman, who knows her nephew, and how to appeal to his pride and his notions of family dignity. She will have enumerated each and every one of our connections who are so far below his own; made much of the shameful circumstances of Lydia's elopement with the lowly son of his late father's steward; and will, doubtless, have delivered a flaming representation of my own character and behaviour."

"Are you quite certain that she was successful in prevailing upon her nephew? If he were truly in love with you, would he have been swayed by such arguments?"

"Oh yes, Jane, his every action – or lack of action – speaks of it: his failure to return into Hertfordshire and his continued absence from the neighbourhood. He came neither to congratulate his friend after your engagement was announced, nor to lend his support during the season of courtship. I can only wonder at the generosity of your husband in forgiving Mr. Darcy such indifference and discourtesy."

"Charles has a very forgiving nature, and he was far too happy at that time to be upset at anyone or anything. I do believe that his attentions were so occupied with myself that he thought of very little else," said Jane with a smile. "And Mr. Darcy did come back to Hertfordshire – albeit very briefly – for the wedding, to stand up with Charles."

"His visit was brief indeed: he arrived barely in time for the ceremony at the church, and left immediately the service was over – not even staying for the wedding breakfast. What extraordinary behaviour for a groomsman!"

"I do not know what excuses Mr. Darcy made," said Jane. "Charles was certainly astounded at the time; the departure was entirely unexpected. Charles had understood that his friend would remain at Netherfield Park for several days, at the very least."

"I can tell you exactly when Mr. Darcy changed his plans. It was at the end of the wedding ceremony in the church at Longbourn. As I was turning to follow you and Charles from the church, Mr. Darcy was likewise turning. Until that moment he had managed to avoid me. We found ourselves facing each other across the aisle and our eyes briefly met. The blood rushed to his face, which was fixed in a resolute mask of haughty disdain. Though it lasted but a moment, before he turned his face from me – I am still unable to banish that awful look of cold revulsion from my mind," said Elizabeth, slumping back in her chair, tears seeping from her closed eyes, as she struggled for breath.

Jane was immediately on her knees before her sister, taking Elizabeth's hands in her own, attempting to console her. She finally appreciated the true depth of her sister's attachment to Mr. Darcy, and how grievously she had suffered for it – and continued to suffer.

"Oh Lizzy, how entirely horrible it must have been for you. However have you been able to endure it all? And without me to console you? I feel so guilty for having neglected you in all the excitement of my marriage. And then I departed for London, leaving you to bear it all alone, while I was here in town, so joyful and happy."

Elizabeth forced herself to smile. "My dear Jane, you are too kind! You must not blame yourself for being happy when you were entirely ignorant of what I was feeling. And you did not leave me – it was our mamma's doing. She prevented me from coming to town with you because she wished to find me a husband. In any case, it would have been unbearable to have been here in London at that time – with Mr. Darcy – even though he would have avoided me as it appears he is now resolved upon."

"And now you shall have to bear it," said Jane sympathetically. "I know! The weather is becoming warmer. I shall consult with Charles to see if we can bring forward our wedding tour. That way, we shall be removed from London and Mr. Darcy. I dare say that it will save a good deal of embarrassment all round."

"No, Jane, I forbid it! You must not alter the arrangements for the wedding tour on my account. It is by no means warm enough, yet, to set out – there will still be many days that are too cold for comfortable travel. I say this as much for myself as for you and Charles. I am so looking forward to our tour of the Lakes – what a shame it would be if the weather were inclement and spoiled our sightseeing."

"I fear you will not be happy here in town, Lizzy, and it grieves me."

"Do not grieve for me, dear Jane; I am resolved to be entirely contented. It is several months since I last saw Mr. Darcy, and I am now reconciled to the loss of his regard. I do not mean to spend my entire life lamenting him. He is the good friend of your husband, and as I hope to be often in your company, it is inevitable that we must sometimes meet. I am determined to bear such occasions with equanimity and good grace; and I expect nothing less from a man of Mr. Darcy's breeding."

"Of course, you are quite right, Lizzy. If this cancellation is on your account, as I am now convinced it must be, I am sure Mr. Darcy will think better of it the next time, and behave more sensibly. It would be very sad if your presence at Fairfield Gardens made it awkward for Charles and Mr. Darcy to meet – or for his sister, Georgiana, and myself; for I have become most fond of her."

Observing Elizabeth closely, Jane could readily discern that though her sister smiled and tried bravely to conceal her pain, that confidence and liveliness she so admired in her was absent. Intent upon distracting her, she proposed that they sample some of the amusements of London. Elizabeth was not greatly interested in the fashionable shops of The Strand, Pall Mall, or Bond Street; but she was eager to visit the Temple of the Muses, a book emporium in Finsbury Square, which she had heard stocked a prodigious number of titles at most reasonable prices.

After perusing the shelves at length, Jane and Elizabeth seated themselves in one of the lounges provided for customers to scrutinise potential purchases. Elizabeth was inspecting a volume of poetry when Jane, who had been surreptitiously surveying the fashions of the many young ladies present, suddenly rose to her feet and waved to an acquaintance.

Looking up from her book, Elizabeth apprehended Georgiana Darcy approaching them, accompanied by her companion, Mrs. Annesley. "I did not know you were in town!" exclaimed Georgiana in obvious delight. Clearly, her brother had not confided his intelligence of Elizabeth's arrival at Fairfield Gardens in his sister; although, from the embarrassed manner in which she spoke of her regret at Miss Bennet's sudden and unexpected departure from Derbyshire the previous summer, it was evident that she knew something of the scandal involving Lydia which had precipitated it.

Mr. Darcy, Elizabeth felt certain, would not have wished to venture upon that subject with his sister on account of the involvement of Mr. Wickham and her own painful history with that gentleman, in very similar circumstances. However, Caroline Bingley, even had she been aware of the prior incident involving Miss Darcy, would have scrupled not to spare her the least sordid detail of the affair involving Lydia; doubtless embellished with a contemptuous account of the Bennets, their lack of propriety, breeding, and connections.

It was evident from Georgiana's behaviour that any such exertions on the part of Miss Bingley had been wasted. Her affection for Jane was unmistakable, and she appeared equally warmly disposed towards Elizabeth – although there was some measure of confusion, perhaps on account of the expectations that had arisen in her mind in Derbyshire, concerning her brother and Miss Bennet. Georgiana was delighted to learn that Elizabeth would be staying with Jane for some time, and expressed a desire to be often in their company. It was evident that a warm friendship had developed between Georgiana and Jane, for there was none of the shyness Elizabeth had observed in Derbyshire.

Georgiana expressed her regret at the unexpected cancellation of the previous day's dinner engagement. Elizabeth detected some discomfort in her apology, and surmised that she was not privy to her brother's reasons. Jane invited Georgiana to wait on them the following day and she accepted the invitation eagerly. "It will be delightful to be in the company of you and your sister. I am desperate to seek your guidance and advice on how I must behave at Lady Netherby's ball, in two days time, for I am feeling most anxious."

Jane took Georgiana's hand and smiled. "It will all be well, I am certain; and both Elizabeth and I will be there to support you, my dear. I wrote to her ladyship to inform her that my sister Kitty would not be able to attend, as she returned to Longbourn, but that another of my sisters would come in her place. Lady Netherby replied at once, inviting Elizabeth to attend the ball."

"And I must tell you, my dear," confided Elizabeth to Georgiana, "that I, too, am nervous at the prospect; for though I have attended balls at the Assembly Rooms at Meryton, I have never, in my life, attended anything so grand as a London ball – and I believe that Lady Netherby's balls are quite famous. I do believe that the ball Mr. Bingley gave at Netherfield Park is the very pinnacle of my experience."

"Where you danced with my brother," replied Georgiana with a shy smile. "He spoke warmly of the grace of your performance, and of the happiness it gave him to dance with you. It surprised me greatly, as I had always believed him to disdain the amusement. Perhaps I shall have the pleasure of seeing him dance with you at Lady Netherby's ball?"

Elizabeth blushed deeply at Georgiana's suggestion. The conversation concerning their dancing together at Netherfield Park was likely made while Elizabeth was in Derbyshire, when Mr. Darcy had behaved with such amiability and generosity – both towards herself and to her Aunt and Uncle Gardiner. It was evident at the time that he wished for Elizabeth and Georgiana to think well of each other, that they should come to love each other as sisters. Elizabeth felt certain that whatever it was that had caused Mr. Darcy to change his mind, and set his heart against her – be it the words of Lady Catherine, or something else entirely, that Georgiana was completely ignorant of the matter.

Wishing to hide her embarrassment, Elizabeth asked, "But why are you nervous about attending Lady Netherby's ball? Is it your very first ball?"

"Yes," sighed Georgiana, "indeed it is, and if it depended upon my wishes only, I should not go at all. But my brother has hinted that he considers it is time for me to come out into society, and though he would never insist upon it, I know it must give him great pleasure, particularly as Lady Netherby's son, Lord Netherby, is a particular friend of his; he has asked me for the first two dances, to open the ball."

"Good gracious, it is hardly surprising, then, that you should feel anxious," said Elizabeth, taking Georgiana's hand in hers and smiling sympathetically. "But I am sure you will carry it off with dignity and poise." Secretly Elizabeth wondered how she, herself, would manage to sustain those very qualities in the company of Miss Darcy's brother.

The following morning a letter arrived for Jane, who was seated with Elizabeth in the morning room awaiting the arrival of Miss Darcy. She read it to her sister.

"'Dear Jane,

To my great regret, I shall be unable to call upon you and your sister today as I had intended. My brother wishes me to remain quietly at home today as he fears that I have been exerting myself too much of late, and that I must conserve my energy for the ball tomorrow. I look forward most earnestly to seeing and speaking with both yourself and your sister, Elizabeth, tomorrow night at Lady Netherby's.

Yours, etc…'"

"Yes, a great exertion it would be, indeed," exclaimed Elizabeth, "to ride ten minutes in a carriage from one sitting room to another, to talk and drink tea and then ride home again!"

"Surely you do not think Mr. Darcy would wish to prevent his sister from meeting with you?" asked Jane.

"There is no other explanation," replied Elizabeth.

"But it makes not the least bit of sense. Whatever his aunt can have said to Mr. Darcy about your unsuitability as a marriage partner – regarding our family, our want of connections, the occupations and circumstances of our relatives – they apply equally to myself; and Mr. Darcy has not only allowed and encouraged the friendship between his sister and myself, but he has always treated me with the utmost civility and respect. What possible objection could he have to his sister being in your company? I do not understand it," said Jane, shaking her head.

"Nor I," replied Elizabeth. "Either he imagines some great evil of me that might contaminate his sister, or he detests me. There is no other explanation, though I cannot imagine what grounds he could have for either."

"How entirely awful for you, my poor dear Lizzy. How shall you bear it?" asked Jane, rising from her chair and seating herself beside Elizabeth and offering her handkerchief. "How shall you endure being at the same ball as him tomorrow?"

Elizabeth brushed aside the proffered handkerchief, took a deep breath, and sat herself erect beside Jane. "I am determined to cry not another tear for that unfathomable man!"

As they entered Lady Netherby's lavishly arranged ballroom, Jane was delighted at how well her blue satin ball gown looked upon her sister. "Why, Lizzy, I do believe it suits you better than it does me. I am determined to make you a gift of it; for you have nothing suitable for such occasions and I have several lovely gowns."

"Oh Jane, thank you! You are so kind and generous. It is truly a beautiful gown."

Jane was not the only person present to notice how lovely Elizabeth was looking and compliment her on her appearance. Colonel Fitzwilliam approached with Georgiana on his arm. "Miss Bennet, I have been very much looking forward to renewing our acquaintance, ever since my young cousin informed me that you would be attending the ball tonight," said the colonel, bowing to her. "Allow me to tell you how magnificent you look this evening."

Elizabeth curtsied and smiled warmly. "Thank you, Colonel Fitzwilliam, and I, too, am very happy to see you. I did not know that you would be in attendance tonight, although perhaps I should have guessed, it being so significant an occasion for Miss Darcy."

Georgiana blushed, and looked nervously about at all the splendidly attired ladies and gentlemen, knowing that all eyes would be on her in a few minutes when she opened the ball with Lord Netherby. Jane, understanding her friend's anxiety squeezed her arm gently and said, "You have nothing to fear, my dear, you are amongst friends. Charles and I will join you in the set."

"Miss Bennet," begged the colonel, "if you are not otherwise engaged, would you do me the honour of dancing the first two with me?"

Elizabeth gladly assented, and the colonel offered her one arm, and the other to Georgiana, in order to escort her to Lord Netherby, as it was apparent from the flourishes coming from the balcony that the orchestra was about to begin playing the first dance. As they crossed the ballroom, Elizabeth noted with alarm that Colonel Fitzwilliam was steering them towards two gentlemen, one of whom was Mr. Darcy. She guessed that the younger gentleman with whom he was conversing must be Lord Edward Netherby.

Despite her earnest resolve to enjoy the ball and not allow herself to become discomposed on account of Mr. Darcy, she felt distressed and in need of the support of the colonel's arm. They were but half a dozen yards from the gentlemen when Mr. Darcy glanced up and saw them approaching. His face coloured as he uttered a brief pardon to Lord Netherby, before turning and walking briskly away. To the others, it might have seemed nothing more than him realising that the dance was about to begin, and thus hastening to find his partner; but Elizabeth was quite certain that it was to avoid encountering her.

Colonel Fitzwilliam introduced Elizabeth to Lord Netherby, a fine-looking gentleman of two and twenty or thereabouts. He was well-spoken and charming, and behaved with the utmost politeness and gallantry towards her. Whatever reason Darcy had for disliking and avoiding her, it was evident that he had not shared it with his sister, his cousin, or his friend, Lord Edward Netherby. In fact, Lord Netherby seemed quite taken with Elizabeth, and before offering his arm to Georgiana to walk to the top of the set to open the ball, he took the opportunity of asking Elizabeth to do him the honour of dancing the third set with him.

Elizabeth's spirits were restored after Darcy's cold snub. He would have to abstain from dancing, entirely, if he wished to completely avoid her, reflected Elizabeth; for the dances would most certainly involve the changing of partners. Regardless of how Mr. Darcy behaved, she determined not to be embarrassed and hide her eyes from him; but rather, she would treat him coolly, as a distant acquaintance of no account. He would doubtless remain silent, and she would likewise make no attempt at engaging him in conversation. Elizabeth's resolve was not put to the test, however; for it being a large ballroom, there were several sets, and Mr. Darcy contrived to always place himself in a different set from the one in which Elizabeth was situated.

While they were dancing, Colonel Fitzwilliam hinted to Elizabeth that Darcy would look with favour upon a match between his sister and Lord Netherby.

"And what does Miss Darcy think of the idea?" asked Elizabeth. "She is yet young; this is her first ball. She is, in all likelihood, very far from ready to find – or to be found – a husband."

"Yes, I am of much the same opinion; and I would be surprised if Darcy wishes to lose his sister quite so soon; he is very fond of Georgiana. Perhaps it is more in the nature of something he would like to see happen; but not for some years yet. The Netherbys are a very respectable family from Nottinghamshire. Their estate at Fendalton Park is little more than a dozen miles from Pemberley. A union between the two families would be to the benefit of them both."

"And what sort of young man is Lord Netherby?" asked Elizabeth.

"Due to the proximity of the estates, Darcy has been acquainted with him and his family for much of his life. I believe that my cousin and Lord Netherby attended the same school and university. Darcy has, naturally, made extensive enquiries into Lord Netherby's character and history. On account of my shared guardianship of Miss Darcy, I am privy to the information; the reports are all most favourable. He is an intelligent, well-informed, and serious young man of excellent character."

"I am pleased to hear it – these are all admirable qualities – and furthermore, he is handsome and charming. However, this does not guarantee that every young lady must fall in love with him or wish to marry him," said Elizabeth with a smile.

After dancing the second set with Charles Bingley, Elizabeth had the opportunity to form her own opinion of Lord Netherby, for she was engaged to him for the third. She found him everything that was gallant and charming. They conversed with much animation, firstly upon music and then literature. The gentleman owned to literary aspirations.

"Have you had anything published?" asked Elizabeth.

"Some sonnets and an ode or two in one of the quarterlies," he replied.

"Oh, I should love to read them!" exclaimed Elizabeth. "Pray tell me the particulars of the publications."

"Forgive me, Miss Bennet, if I do not oblige you; I am not entirely pleased with my efforts to date, and would not wish to place them before your keen and discerning eye." Elizabeth was surprised, but with not the least disapprobation, at Lord Netherby's modesty, and she keenly felt the compliment he paid her.

When it was time for the supper, Elizabeth found herself seated with Bingley, Jane, and Georgiana. Bingley seemed surprised that Darcy chose to seat himself at a distant table with his own sister, Caroline, and Mr. and Mrs. Hurst.

Georgiana, while not understanding why her brother chose to seat himself away from them, found herself well pleased with the arrangement when the pianoforte was opened after the supper. Her brother had indicated that he wished her to exhibit her considerable virtuosity at the instrument before the assembled company, most especially on account of it being the occasion of her coming out into society. Georgiana averted her gaze from her brother's table while they were being entertained by several young ladies, and sat in dread of his approach, and the inevitable request to which she must accede. But most unaccountably – and mercifully – he did not come. She could scarcely imagine that Caroline Bingley could so engross her brother's interest that he would forget his intention of having her play; yet she was far too afraid of his catching her eye to look in his direction to ascertain what was the reason.

Lord Netherby's sister, Victoria, completed the entertainment by regaling them with some beautiful French chansons. For the final two songs she was joined by her brother, whose voice was every bit as fine as her own; Elizabeth listened with rapt attention. At the end of the performance, Lord Netherby led his sister in their direction, and Elizabeth was surprised when it became evident that his purpose was to introduce her to his sister. Miss Netherby, she guessed, must be around the same age as Jane. Her gown was exquisite; yet despite her very elegant attire, Miss Netherby was no more than tolerably handsome. Her address was pleasing; she spoke with confidence, intelligence, and warmth. Elizabeth found herself immediately well-disposed towards her, but was at a loss to account for why Lord Netherby should take the trouble of coming all the way over to their table to make the introduction.

Elizabeth's alarm increased when Lord Netherby asked her to do him the honour of dancing another set with him, later in the evening. She hoped that he was not developing a preference for her. Despite her high opinion of the gentleman and his good looks and amiability, she felt nothing more than that. In truth, though she would not own to it, despite all her best intentions, it was impossible for her to be in the same room as Mr. Darcy and not be constantly cognisant of that gentleman – where he was standing or seated, to whom he was speaking, or with whom he was dancing.

Elizabeth was relieved to see Lord Netherby lead Georgiana to the dance, for while she was in no way privy to Georgiana's feelings for Lord Netherby, if she did like him, it would be distressing if Georgiana mistakenly perceived her as a competitor for his heart.

"Whatever has happened to Mr. Darcy?" asked Miss Netherby. "He has engaged me for this set – but he does not come!" Elizabeth, who stood facing Miss Netherby, felt her face redden, for she caught sight of Mr. Darcy standing off in the distance, occasionally glancing surreptitiously in their direction, evidently unwilling to approach while she stood beside Miss Netherby. Fortunately, the gentleman to whom Elizabeth was engaged for the set approached to lead her to the dance.

Elizabeth enjoyed her second two dances with Lord Netherby; there were few men whose conversation she enjoyed as much as his. She danced again with Colonel Fitzwilliam and by the end of the night found that she had been engaged for every dance.

Upon inspecting her sister's card the following morning, Jane said with a smile, "Last night's ball was, I imagine, a vastly different experience for you to one particular Meryton assembly I can recall." They were taking tea in the sitting room, recounting the details of the previous evening.

Elizabeth smiled. "I do believe, dear Jane, that you and I shall always have very different memories of that assembly. For you, it was the beginning of so much joy and happiness; yet I will always regret that night, and wish my whole life long that I had never set eyes upon Mr. Darcy." And despite all her good intentions and resolve, Elizabeth broke into tears.

Jane took her sister's hand, but could think of nothing to say that might comfort her. After a wonderful ball at which she had been much admired and sought after by many a fine gentleman, including the delightful Lord Edward Netherby, Elizabeth's head was still full of Mr. Darcy. Jane resolved to get her sister away from London. The weather was improving; they must begin the wedding tour as soon as arrangements could be concluded.

However, as it transpired, the urgency in beginning the wedding tour soon disappeared. Georgiana Darcy had promised to wait on them that very morning; for a ball is not truly over until it has been talked of at length, the gowns and jewellery worn by the ladies commented on, and a review carried out of who danced with whom – and whether this gentleman or that lady showed an uncommon preference for one or other of their partners.

"I fear that Miss Darcy will not be joining us this morning," said Elizabeth. "If her brother should learn of her intention, he will almost certainly find a reason to prevent it."

"Perhaps you are wrong," said Jane, just at that moment hearing a knock at the front door. But when the butler appeared, it was not to lead Miss Darcy into the room, but to hand his mistress a message which had just arrived from the young lady.

"Good heavens," said Jane, shaking her head, before reading to Elizabeth.

"'My Dear Jane,

I must confess that I do not understand men – least of all my dear brother. Last night in the carriage, as we returned from the ball, he informed me that it was essential that he depart for Derbyshire without delay; and having no intention of immediately returning to London, he wishes me to accompany him.

There was no time to be lost, he said, and thus regrettably, I am unable to call upon you to bid you and Elizabeth my fond adieus. By the time you read this note, we will be on our way to Pemberley.

I remember you speaking of your plans to take your wedding tour in the Lakes. Pemberley is not very far out of your way; please come and visit us on your return journey. It will be delightful to have you and Elizabeth stay some time at Pemberley, and my brother is always happy in Mr. Bingley's company.

Yours, etc…'"

Elizabeth gave an ironic laugh. "I doubt very much that Miss Darcy consulted her brother before issuing an invitation to Pemberley that included me."

"No," agreed Jane. "We shall steer well clear of Pemberley. Evidently Georgiana is unaware of her brother's inexplicable feelings concerning you. I am quite certain that Charles, too, has not the least idea about it. He will be astonished and hurt when he learns of Mr. Darcy's abrupt departure without forewarning or farewell. Do you think I should tell him, Lizzy, that his friend's peculiar behaviour is on account of you?"

"I beg you not to speak of it, Jane; it would only make me feel awkward. You cannot explain Mr. Darcy's behaviour, for it is inexplicable, and I fear that it would lessen your husband's regard for his friend, and might perhaps give rise to resentment and anger. I do not wish to be the cause of the loss of such a staunch and longstanding friendship."

When the butler brought in the morning post, it included a letter from Mrs. Bennet, announcing the engagement of Mary to Mr. Septimus Tiddlington. Elizabeth had already related to Jane the amusing details of how she had deflected that reverend gentleman's matrimonial aspirations – so effectively aroused by their mother – from herself to Mary. News of the betrothal had long been anticipated by the sisters, and they were unsurprised to discover that the engagement was to be of but a short duration – no doubt in consequence of their mother's counselling the naοve young rector of the propriety of a brief engagement, in her desire to see Mary securely settled as mistress of the parsonage as soon as may be.

"I shall speak with Charles," said Jane. "We shall delay our wedding tour a little, and make Longbourn the first destination; for it is on our way northwards. Will you mind spending another month in town, Lizzy?"

"No, not all," replied Elizabeth. With Darcy's departure, there was no longer any need to hasten the beginning of the wedding tour, and Elizabeth wished to see more of her Aunt and Uncle Gardiner and their delightful children before departing London.

"I am very happy for our sister, Lizzy. Do you think they will be happy together? Does Mary love him, do you think?"

"I believe they shall, very likely, be happy, for their characters and interests are quite alike. As to love, I do not know; Mary is the least romantic of us all. Yet even before my little manoeuvre to deflect his matrimonial ambitions in her direction, I had reason to think that she possibly favoured the rector, for I sometimes caught her glancing admiringly in his direction."

"As I recall," replied Jane, smiling, "she also used to steal glances at Mr. Collins. At the time I suspected that Mary had hopes that she would be the daughter of our father whom he chose to take as a wife – and I was inclined to believe that she might very likely have accepted him."

Elizabeth laughed. "I confess I did not notice our sister's interest in the absurd Mr. Collins – most probably because I, myself, was so industriously engaged in parrying his awkward attentions. But even had I noticed, I would never have thought to encourage him to think of Mary, as I did with Mr. Tiddlington, who is far more sensible and vastly superior to our ridiculous cousin in every imaginable way."

"Her apparent interest in Mr. Collins surprised me at the time," confided Jane, "for the manifold peculiarities of that gentleman aside, I always believed Mary to be disinterested in marriage, and the most likely of the five of us to end an old maid."

"Yes, I too," replied Elizabeth. "Perhaps it is more the attraction of being a clergyman's wife, than a wife per se. Mary is so very fond of moralising; and while Kitty and Lydia provided ample opportunities, soon she will have the conduct of a whole parish to preside over in righteous judgement."

Jane smiled. "Kitty, I fear, will be annoyed at being beaten to the altar by Mary, especially with Lydia and myself already married. I imagine she must by now be anxious to find a husband."

"And will certainly receive all possible assistance from our dear mother. And after Kitty is wed, it will be just myself remaining at Longbourn," said Elizabeth, sighing and shaking her head hopelessly. "Our mother will be forever seeking out suitors – however shall I endure the endless hours of her silly conversation in the parlour? Notwithstanding our excellent father and his well-informed mind, I fear that our mother may at length succeed in inducing me to marry – if only to get away from her! Do you know if Mr. Collins has any brothers or cousins, perchance?" asked Elizabeth.

"Lizzy," said Jane, becoming serious, "you know that it has long been Charles' intention to purchase a country estate. He is resolved to begin searching in earnest for a suitable property after our wedding tour. It is the fond wish of us both, that it shall be your home, also, for as long as you remain unmarried."

"Oh, thank you, dear Jane," said Elizabeth. "I am most grateful to you and Charles; it is just what I would want. But I must warn you that you will have me forever; for I think it very unlikely that I shall ever wish to marry."

"Lizzy dear, while I sincerely hope that you will one day find a partner as wonderful as my dear Bingley, and know the felicity and joy that we have found together, if it is your wish to remain unwed, then your home must always be with us."

Chapter 4 ~ The Wedding Tour

Posted on 2010-11-17

In April, Elizabeth arrived in Hertfordshire in the company of Jane and Charles Bingley, at the commencement of their wedding tour. Elizabeth would spend the week in Longbourn, while Jane and Bingley stayed nearby with an acquaintance of his. Elizabeth was pleased to be at home again, but also relieved that the visit would be of but a short duration, for her mother's moods were as extreme as ever. Mrs. Bennet was either ebullient at the great good fortune of having a third daughter at the point of marriage (and one whom she had hardly hoped would ever be so), or she was vexed at her husband's stubborn refusal to invite Lydia and Wickham to Longbourn for the wedding. Mary was exceedingly pleased with her father's resolution, for she did not wish to have her nuptials thus tainted.

"Your mother's memory, I fear, is somewhat defective," said Mr. Bennet to Elizabeth as they were seated one evening in the privacy of his library. "I have neither forgotten nor forgiven that scoundrel Wickham, for the trouble he has given me. I hope never to set eyes upon him again. Your mother imagined that I might wish to send them the funds for the journey from Newcastle, of which, no doubt, they would be in need; for Wickham is certain to be in debt again."

"I fear that Mr. Wickham is a man who will always spend or gamble away more than his income," said Elizabeth. "Poor Lydia; she seems destined to a life of difficulty."

"Your sister has no one to blame but herself. They will, doubtless, never have quite enough money to live upon; however, she is so impervious to the opinions and censure of society that the wayward behaviour of her husband is likely to cause her very little shame. It is I who must suffer the shame – of being unable to repay my brother Gardiner."

Opening a ledger, he pointed with his quill towards some calculations he had made. "Even the most austere retrenchments in expenditure will yield but three or four hundred pounds a year; and your mother, I fear, will complain bitterly at the curtailment of so many luxuries," he said, shaking his head. "Your uncle refuses to tell me what it cost him to prevail upon Wickham to marry my daughter. He says that I owe him nothing, but how can I believe it? He must have laid out ten or twelve thousand pounds, at least. It will take thirty or forty years to repay such a sum – and I will certainly not live that long."

Elizabeth could bear her father's sorrow and shame no longer. "Papa, my uncle is speaking the truth. Although he would gladly have used his own money to bring about Lydia's wedding, he did not. It was paid for entirely by another."

Mr. Bennet looked up disbelievingly. "Lizzy, what are you talking of? Who else in the world could have an interest in the matter?"

"Mr. Darcy."

"Mr. Darcy? Why on earth would Darcy care whether Wickham married Lydia – it makes not the slightest sense! Lydia is nothing to Darcy, and as I recall, when the militia were quartered in Meryton last year, Wickham took every opportunity to blacken his name."

Elizabeth was now obliged to communicate some of the substance of the letter Mr. Darcy had written in Kent. She revealed the whole of the history between Wickham and Darcy – concealing only the identity of Miss Darcy. She simply said that Wickham had attempted to elope with a young lady of Mr. Darcy's acquaintance, who was but fifteen years old.

"But Lizzy, this all seems so implausible. Why would Mr. Darcy consider himself responsible for Wickham's wickedness – or Lydia's stupidity? I cannot believe it!"

"It seems that Mr. Darcy believed that it was on account of his mistaken pride, and reluctance to lay open the details which I have just now recounted, that Wickham's true character had not been known to the world. He blamed himself for concealing Wickham's history, which, had it been known, would have made it impossible for any young woman of character to believe or love him. Consequently, he considered it his duty to remedy this evil which had been brought about on account of his actions."

Mr. Bennet shook his head. "I am astounded! Contrary to all the unfavourable reports of his character, it transpires that Darcy is the most noble of men! I feel quite ashamed of myself for the poor opinion I previously held of him. I believe that you, my dear, were the source of much of my former information concerning Mr. Darcy; however, I do not blame you for so grossly misunderstanding him, for you hardly know the man."

Elizabeth blushed deeply and looked away, feeling greatly embarrassed – but also relieved that her father was entirely ignorant of the tangled and troubled history of her acquaintance with the gentleman.

"Perhaps you were too hasty in forming your opinions, my dear. I am a great believer in learning from one's mistakes," counselled Mr. Bennet.

"Yes," agreed Elizabeth, managing a wry smile. "I am fortunate to have so great an opportunity to learn."

Mr. Bennet chuckled before again becoming serious. "Lizzy, my dear, I am quite prepared to believe everything you now tell me about Darcy and Wickham; but how on earth did you come to know all of this? Mr. Darcy, after all, is no friend of yours."

No friend, indeed, reflected Elizabeth, sadly, recalling Mr. Darcy's recent cold behaviour towards her. "Mr. Darcy prevailed upon everyone – Lydia, Wickham, and the Gardiners – to keep his part in the affair secret. Lydia first betrayed Mr. Darcy's involvement when she and her husband visited Longbourn. I received further information from my Aunt Gardiner, who… mistakenly believed me to have some knowledge of the matter. That is why my uncle could not tell you that it was Mr. Darcy, and not he, who paid for everything.

"It was also Mr. Darcy, who, as a result of his long association with Wickham, was able to discover where he and my sister were hiding. He then engaged in the odious task of haggling over how much he must bribe the scoundrel to marry her."

"I must write to Mr. Darcy immediately, to thank him," said Mr. Bennet, "and of course I must offer to repay him – albeit very slowly."

"No, Father! Please, I beg of you, do not write! Mr. Darcy will certainly not accept a penny from you; and he will be vastly unhappy to learn that confidences have been broken, and his secret revealed. It is true that we owe him a great deal; but it is a debt that can neither be acknowledged nor repaid. The only possible way to repay his kindness is to keep it secret, as he wishes, and to tell no one!"

"Lizzy, you seem upset; what is the matter, my dear?"

"There is nothing the matter, Papa." Elizabeth searched desperately for some way of explaining her aroused emotions. "It is only that I find it difficult to think and talk about Lydia and her elopement without becoming discomposed. At the time, the shame of it was almost unbearable. It seemed that the marriage prospects of Jane, Mary, Kitty, and myself were forever blighted."

"And very likely, they might have been, were it not for Mr. Darcy! Though, it seems, we can never thank him, we have greatly benefited from his generosity. Jane is now happily married to Mr. Bingley, and tomorrow it shall be Mary's turn. She, too, I believe, will be happy. Indeed, she could not have chosen a better or more suitable partner."

"I think it is my mother, rather than Mary, who deserves the credit. I doubt very much that the good reverend would have ever contemplated marriage had it not been for mamma's steadfast encouragement."

Mr. Bennet laughed. "Yes, your mother's blind enthusiasm for the institution seems to be somewhat contagious – although you, my dear Lizzy, would appear to be immune to it. Nevertheless, I believe Mr. Tiddlington, too, will be happy, and have reason to thank your mother. Whereas Mary, perhaps, has more reason for thanking you," he added with a conspiratorial smile.

Despite the joy of seeing her sister wed, it was a considerable trial for Elizabeth, who again shared the honour of bridesmaid with Kitty. Her thoughts would not remain in the present moment, but continually returned to Jane's wedding, six months earlier, where she had stood in the same church with Mr. Darcy. Try as she might, she could not banish that awful image from her mind, of his face, an icy mask of haughty disdain, when for the briefest of moments they had faced each other across the aisle, and their eyes met. Though the service was soon over, it unleashed the same tormenting thoughts which had plagued her at that time. Try as she might, Elizabeth could neither understand his behaviour nor prevent herself from endlessly conjecturing upon it.

Fortunately, with all the excitement of Mary's wedding, no one paid a great deal of attention to Elizabeth, and only Jane noticed her low spirits; she had no difficulty in understanding their cause or how her poor sister's mind must be occupied. So sunken was Elizabeth in her sad, perplexing thoughts, that she barely noticed her mother's absurd hints as to the desirability as a marriage partner of the rector from the neighbouring parish, who had officiated at the wedding service.

Jane earnestly hoped that once they had departed Hertfordshire for the Lakes, with nothing to remind her of Mr. Darcy, Elizabeth would recover her spirits – and she was not disappointed. Elizabeth had purchased a copy of Thomas West's Guide to the Lakes in London and was determined to savour all the famous beauty spots. Strolling with Jane beside lovely Lake Grasmere one afternoon, she confided, "Mr. Darcy is forever forgotten! What are mere men compared to beauty and grandeur such as this? If only we could live our lives enfolded in nature's exquisite embrace."

"It may be a rather cold embrace in winter, I fear, dear Lizzy. However, I can think of no reason why a fine country home may not be surrounded by nature's beauty – if not, perhaps, on quite so grand a scale as this."

"Yet all too often, it is such a tame and ordered beauty, in which nature's wild artistry is almost entirely buried beneath man's designs. I recall that many of the parks and gardens of the grand estates I visited with our Aunt and Uncle Gardiner last summer, were of that ilk."

"Were there none sufficiently untamed and unaffected as to delight you, Lizzy?"

After a moment's reflection Elizabeth replied, "Only one."

"And which grand estate was that?" asked Jane.

"Pemberley."

"Oh!" exclaimed Jane. Wishing to avert her sister's thoughts from Pemberley – and its owner – she quickly added, "I believe you are aware that Charles has engaged an agent to locate suitable properties for us to inspect. There is one we pass on our return journey, somewhere in Cheshire, that is renowned for the pristine rustic beauty of its grounds. The agent reports that they are yet untouched by the present passion for improvement."

The report of Bingley's agent regarding the estate in Cheshire was indeed accurate. It was named Willowbank for the graceful willows that lined the banks of the not inconsiderable, and more importantly, entirely unaltered, river which flowed delightfully through its grounds. The ladies fell immediately in love with it. Bingley, too, was charmed, and eager to purchase, but he was unable to make so important a decision without first consulting Mr. Darcy.

"Let us drive to Pemberley immediately," he said. "It can be little more than an hour away."

"So close?" exclaimed Elizabeth in alarm.

"Yes. Willowbank lies between Macclesfield and Buxton, which is in the neighbouring county of Derbyshire. I reckon it can be no more than ten or twelve miles from Pemberley."

Elizabeth found herself immediately assailed by thoughts of Mr. Darcy. The ease and peace of mind that had been hers over the past several weeks entirely vanished. How would he behave towards her in his own home, she wondered, where he could not possibly avoid her, and where good breeding demanded that he treat his guests respectfully and with good grace?

Jane looked with concern at her sister, anticipating what thoughts and feelings must beset her as they journeyed towards Pemberley. But it could not be avoided. Her dear Charles was entirely dependent upon Mr. Darcy's opinion in matters of such magnitude.

When the butler showed them into the sitting room at Pemberley, Miss Darcy was unable to conceal her great delight at receiving them, but her brother appeared entirely discomposed. Though he greeted them with the customary formalities, and even managed to utter the words "Miss Bennet" flatly as he bowed stiffly to Elizabeth, he studiously avoided looking in her direction. She had never in her life seen him conduct himself so awkwardly, and the singularity of his behaviour could not have escaped the notice of the rest of the party.

Bingley explained the purpose of their visit and spoke of Willowbank with excessive enthusiasm. "It is everything that I could possibly wish for, Darcy. The rooms are large and perfectly proportioned; and the grounds are delightful. The area through which flows the river is on a par, I believe, with some of the famed beauty spots we have recently visited in the Lakes country. The house is not on quite so grand a scale as Pemberley, or the grounds as extensive as yours – but then neither is my fortune," he added with a deferential smile. "Yet it is entirely perfect for me; I am absolutely determined to have it. However, I first wish to hear your opinion of the property. Are you at all familiar with it? If not, perhaps tomorrow we could ride over to take a look together?"

"I have heard of Willowbank. There were two brothers at Eton, as I recall, from the place; but I have never seen it myself. Let us ride there now, without delay," said Darcy, rising abruptly from his chair, evidently anxious to be on his way – to anywhere that I am not, thought Elizabeth.

"Dear Brother, will not you and Mr. Bingley first dine with us? It is almost the hour for the meal," protested his sister, astounded at her brother's haste, and the uncharacteristic lack of civility demonstrated towards the ladies.

"Err… no, I think not," said Darcy, making a show of taking out his golden pocket watch and consulting it carefully for some time, evidently searching for a plausible explanation for such exceptional behaviour. "Bingley and I can take something at the inn in Buxton. No, we must depart immediately if we are to have sufficient time to inspect the buildings and all the grounds."

"Surely not, Darcy," remonstrated his friend, consulting his own timepiece. "We have a good seven hours of daylight yet – the park is not so large that we will require half a day to do it justice – it is not Pemberley! My agent informs me that there is presently no other interested party; if you believe it will require such a great deal of time, then our inspection may well wait another day."

But Darcy would not be persuaded, and in a matter of minutes, he and Bingley had decamped. Elizabeth doubted not for a moment that the abruptness of his departure was entirely on account of his desire to be out of her presence. Though she was well aware of his aversion by this time, to be together in the same room as he, and experience it so directly, was almost more than she could bear. As she struggled to appear unaffected to their hostess, Elizabeth attempted to direct her attention outwards to her surroundings. This, however, was of little help, for she was reminded of her previous visit to Pemberley, when she and her aunt came to wait upon Miss Darcy. She recalled how delightful she found it on that day; and of her hopeful feelings, and the fancy she could not suppress, that Darcy still loved her, and that very soon this beautiful home might also be hers, and dear Georgiana a beloved sister. How hopeless and distant a dream that all seemed now.

Bingley rejoined the ladies in the sitting room in the late afternoon, eager to report the outcome of their inspection of Willowbank from whence he was just returned. "Darcy's approbation of the property was hardly less than my own. Our survey of the house and stables, and other major buildings, elicited only favourable opinions, and I thought him as pleased and charmed by grounds and park as myself. But then, confound the man, if he did not at the end of it all advise me against purchasing the place! Pray excuse me, Miss Darcy, for speaking of your brother in so forthright a manner, but I am somewhat vexed at the present moment."

"How extraordinary, Charles," exclaimed Jane. "What reason did Mr. Darcy give for so unexpected a recommendation?"

"None that could in any way satisfy me!" said Bingley, shaking his head in bewilderment. "First of all, he attempted to persuade me that I would find it a most inconvenient distance from town."

"But it is hardly further from London than Pemberley, and I have never heard Mr. Darcy complain of the length of the journey. Have you, my dear?" asked Jane, turning towards Georgiana.

"No, never," replied Georgiana, shaking her head, feeling both confused and embarrassed at her brother's baffling behaviour.

"Nor I!" exclaimed Bingley. "And when I pointed this out to him, Darcy replied with some nonsense about my not being fond of travelling! I have not the least idea what grounds he could possibly have for forming such an opinion; I am certain that I have never once said anything of the kind."

"In any case, Charles, how many times would we be likely to make the journey to town each year, once we are well settled? Twice – or thrice perhaps – hardly often enough for it to be a major consideration," reasoned Jane.

"Quite right!" said her husband. "Darcy then attempted to persuade me that I would find the winters not to my liking. The northerly clime, he claimed, was far colder than either you or I are accustomed to; and I had better look for something in a more southerly locale, such as Surry or Sussex."

"The winters may indeed be colder than those I am used to in Hertfordshire, my dear; but I do not believe that it would trouble me in the least. Can the winters in Willowbank be a great deal colder than here at Pemberley?" asked Jane.

"No, not a bit," replied Bingley. "It is no more than a mile or two more northerly, and being closer to the Irish Sea, in all likelihood, it is a little warmer. Even Darcy could not deny it. I reassured him, that having stayed with him at Pemberley in winter, that I found it much to my liking, and that I did not anticipate that you would be much troubled by the difference in climate."

"Then Mr. Darcy cannot but have been reassured of the suitability of Willowbank, and the good sense in your purchasing the estate," concluded Jane.

"Not at all!" exclaimed Bingley. "He then asked me if I objected to revealing the asking price for the property; and when I disclosed it, he declared it to be exorbitant, and said I should be a fool to pay so much!"

"But, Charles, did not your agent in London advise you that it was in every way a most reasonable price for such a property?"

"Indeed he did, Jane, and when I apprised Darcy of this, he began disparaging my agent, and implying that he could not be trusted. Although, when pressed, Darcy admitted that he had heard not a single bad report of the man."

Elizabeth had spoken hardly a word since Bingley's return, for she had immediately surmised the cause of Mr. Darcy's bizarre behaviour. Bingley, she guessed, must have revealed that it was the intention of Jane and himself that Willowbank should also be her home. She would not have believed it possible, but it now seemed inescapable that Mr. Darcy's loathing of her, and his desire to avoid her society, had acted as a stronger inducement to him than the wish to have his dearest friend settled so conveniently nearby. At length, she managed to catch her sister's eye, and communicate something of her understanding, in consequence of which Jane ceased questioning her husband concerning Darcy's behaviour and attempted, rather, to mollify him.

"Notwithstanding Darcy's counsel to the contrary, I am determined to proceed with the purchase," said Bingley with uncustomary resolve.

Jane smiled, nodding her concurrence.

"Unless Darcy turns up something of an irregular nature in the Shire records at Chester – although I think it highly unlikely he will find anything; for my agent will have undertaken due diligence of all the documents before recommending the property to me. Why Darcy felt it incumbent upon himself to immediately ride off to Chester to pursue the matter – in spite of all my protests – I have not the slightest idea," said Bingley, shaking his head.

"My brother is gone to Chester?" asked Miss Darcy, all astonished.

"Yes. I am at a total loss to understand the urgency that compelled him to believe he must ride there straight away. He will be lucky to arrive before nightfall – in all likelihood your brother will be obliged to stop at an inn for the night, some distance short of his destination – and in any case, he will not be able to view the Shire records until tomorrow. I suggested that if he must go to Chester that he return to Pemberley with me and leave it for the morrow; for if he were to leave early, he could be back in time for the meal. But despite all my entreaties, when we arrived at the Macclesfield-Buxton road, he turned west towards Chester, leaving me to return alone."

As Elizabeth was readying herself for bed, Jane came to her room. "You were right, Lizzy. I asked Charles if Mr. Darcy was aware of our intention that Willowbank should be your home also. He confessed that he confided it to Mr. Darcy as they were returning from their tour of the park."

"Which coincides with Mr. Darcy's sudden change of tack, from praising Willowbank to concocting all manner of dubious reason for its unsuitability," said Elizabeth.

"Yes, exactly," said Jane. "Bingley is upset at his friend's erratic and incomprehensible behaviour; it is so entirely out of character! He has not the least suspicion that it is on your account, Lizzy, and as it is your wish that he should not know, I have said nothing."

"Thank you, Jane," said Elizabeth, taking her sister's hand.

"My poor Lizzy, how can you bear all of this? How awful it will be for you when Mr. Darcy returns to Pemberley tomorrow. Perhaps I can convince Bingley that we should leave in a day or two. I can tell him that I am anxious to return to town so that the purchase of Willowbank may be completed expeditiously. Georgiana will not be offended, I am certain, for she will comprehend our eagerness to conclude the transaction. And as for Mr. Darcy – he will be greatly relieved, I am sure."

"Mr. Darcy will not return tomorrow, Jane. He will not return so long as I remain at Pemberley."

"What? Stay away from his own home, Lizzy? Surely not!"

"Oh yes, Jane, I am quite certain of it. Mr. Darcy fled to Willowbank within minutes of our arrival this morning, and then concocted that absurd story about there being something untoward regarding the property in the Shire records, which required him to immediately ride off to Chester, rather than returning with Bingley. He will, of course, find nothing in the Shire records, you may be sure. But what he will find is an excuse of some kind or other, for not returning to Pemberley."

Elizabeth was entirely correct. A message arrived the following evening from Darcy, informing Bingley that, notwithstanding the fact that the Shire records appeared to be in order, he continued to be of the opinion that Willowbank was entirely unsuitable, and that the purchase price was unreasonable. He recommended, most forcefully, that his friend look elsewhere. Darcy regretted that he was unable to return to Pemberley immediately as matters of some urgency relating to his duties as a magistrate had arisen in Derby, to whence he had ridden directly from Chester; they would very likely keep him there until after the assizes the following week. Included with the message was a list for his valet of items he wished him to bring to his master at his rooms in Derby.

Bingley and Miss Darcy were utterly stunned that he would absent himself when he had guests in the house. It was a gross breach of propriety on what appeared to be a very thin pretext indeed.

The following morning whilst they were taking tea with her, Georgiana attempted to apologise to Jane and Elizabeth for her brother's ungracious behaviour. "Please do not take it as an indication of any lack of esteem for either of you, I beg. I know my brother has the very highest regard for you both; and for Mr. Bingley, too, of course."

Jane and Elizabeth did their best to reassure Georgiana that neither they, nor Mr. Bingley, were in the least bit offended.

"My brother has sometimes appeared troubled of late," confided Georgiana, uneasily. "It began, I believe, in the winter. I have not the least idea what it can be about. I only know that he has many heavy responsibilities, and much to oversee regarding this estate and other lands in his possession. I fear that there must be difficulties of some kind which weigh heavily upon his mind, in consequence of which, he behaves quite out-of-character at times."

Elizabeth could see how troubled and concerned Georgiana was for her brother, but, nevertheless, felt unable to speak of what she knew to be the reason for his recent bizarre behaviour. Apart from the embarrassment it would cause them both, she could provide no plausible explanation as to the reason which lay behind it.

"Be patient, Georgiana," counselled Jane, "and wait. Whatever is causing your brother's strange behaviour will, in time, pass, and everything will again return to normal."

On account of Georgiana's low spirits, Jane and Elizabeth resolved to stay on at Pemberley for a week, at least, but Charles was somewhat at a loose end without a shooting or fishing companion. He was annoyed at Darcy's inexcusable absence, and eager to get to London to conclude the business of the purchase. So at the end of a week they departed, after bidding their fond farewells to Georgiana, and speaking of their hopes of seeing much of each other when they took up residence at Willowbank.

The journey from Derbyshire to London took them through Hertfordshire, where Elizabeth would remain until the purchase of Willowbank was completed, and Jane and Bingley established there. Elizabeth was resigned to spending several months at Longbourn. With the loss of Jane and Mary from the parlour, the conversation had become even sillier than usual.

When Mrs. Bennet was not congratulating herself on one or other of her fine sons-in-law, she was earnestly engaged in speculating with Kitty on how a suitable husband might be found for her. Elizabeth had hinted that she had met a number of eligible young gentlemen in London, which was sufficient to unleash her dear mamma's imagination and convince her that a proposal from one or other of them must be imminent. She had only to mention that she had danced twice with Lord Edward Netherby at the ball of his mother, Lady Netherby, who had subsequently invited her to dine, for Mrs. Bennet to believe that they were all but engaged.

Elizabeth did nothing to disabuse her mother of these fantasies, but simply smiled demurely and was greatly pleased to be spared her mother's matrimonial campaigning on her behalf. It could thus be entirely devoted to her sister, Kitty, who took as much pleasure in the enterprise as her mother.

Mr. Bennet, as was his wont, spent much of his time sequestered in his library. But at mealtimes, when the company of the ladies could not be avoided, he was very happy to have at least one companion at the table with whom a sensible conversation was possible. Indeed, he enjoyed Elizabeth's company so much that he often invited her to join him in his library, especially when he was attempting to fathom something or other of a perplexing nature.

One evening, Mr. Bennet called Elizabeth to the library, for he had just that day received some surprising news from London. "My brother Gardiner writes that he has recently learned that George Wickham resigned his commission some months ago, and that he and Lydia have left Newcastle and are presently domiciled in London."

"Good heavens," said Elizabeth. "Has Lydia made no mention of it in her letters?"

"She hardly bothers to write. I believe it is several months at least, since either your mother or Kitty received a letter from her."

"But what can they be living on, Father?" asked Elizabeth.

"That is the very question which is perplexing me, Lizzy. London is the most expensive place in all of England that they could have chosen to live," replied Mr. Bennet, becoming silent for some time before continuing, "I wrote to your uncle when you informed me that it was Mr. Darcy, and not he, who paid everything to bring about Lydia's marriage. Since you counselled me to neither thank nor offer to repay Mr. Darcy, I have done neither; however, I wished to know exactly how much he had laid out, and your uncle was good enough to furnish me with the details. It was, in fact, well above ten thousand pounds; most of it went towards clearing Wickham's debts of honour. There was also the purchase of his commission in the regulars, and some five hundred pounds in addition, that Wickham demanded as the price for marrying Lydia."

"So much?" asked Elizabeth, astonished.

"Yes," replied her father. "I have little doubt that he will have long ago gambled away the five hundred pounds. I imagine his reason for leaving the regulars was that he might cash up his commission to pay off gambling debts."

"But how can they live – most especially in London – without money?" asked Elizabeth.

"I have not the least idea," replied Mr. Bennet with a sigh. "Lydia receives one hundred pounds a year from me. I understand that Mr. Darcy settled one thousand pounds upon her; but neither she, nor Wickham, can touch it; they have only the benefit of the interest, which gives them a total of one hundred and forty pounds per annum – hardly enough for a gentleman and lady to live upon in London. Yet from what your uncle has been able to ascertain, they are living in moderate comfort in lodgings. Wickham has applied to neither Mr. Gardiner nor myself for funds. Lizzy, do you think it possible that Darcy has given him more money?"

Elizabeth shook her head. "I think it exceedingly unlikely, Father, given his strong disapprobation of George Wickham, and considering everything he has already done for them."

"Yes, I agree, it is indeed unlikely. Whatever responsibility for Lydia's elopement Mr. Darcy has imputed to himself, it must have been assuaged many times over by his most commendable generosity. He gave Wickham a golden opportunity, one which he did not deserve, to make his way in the world as a gentleman. If Wickham threw it away, then Mr. Darcy can in no way hold himself responsible – or feel in the least bit bound to give him so much as another penny."

"Could Wickham perhaps have found some form of occupation in London, do you think?"

Mr. Bennet snorted. "That would seem most unlikely. He is an idler who fancies himself far too much the gentleman to earn his living; and in any case, he has not the required education."

"Perhaps Wickham's luck at the gaming table has turned. Is it possible that they might be living off his winnings?"

Mr. Bennet shook his head. "No doubt sometimes he must win; but Wickham is not clever enough to be a successful gambler. He is, I suspect, the sort of man who when he wins, will continue to gamble until he loses, and has nothing left."

Towards the end of summer, entirely without warning, Lydia arrived at Longbourn for her confinement. It came as a great surprise to everyone, as she had not mentioned in her infrequent letters that she was with child. Wickham's company had done nothing to improve her conduct – quite the contrary. She was even louder and less restrained than ever, and was given to taking generous amounts of wine at the dinner table, causing her to become even rowdier. Mr. Bennet and Elizabeth soon gave up their attempts at admonishment, for she would listen to no one. Her mother, as always, indulged her, and could find no fault in her favourite – it was just youthful high spirits; and Kitty found it amusing.

One afternoon, after the meal, as she was enjoying her customary walk in the garden, Elizabeth encountered Lydia, reclining indecorously beneath a large tree. On account of the wine she had consumed with the meal, she was sleepy, and had begun to doze off in the sunshine. However, on spying Elizabeth, she roused herself and began complaining about how boring it was to be back at Longbourn, and how much happier she had been in London.

"How I do wish Wickham had not insisted upon my returning to Longbourn for my confinement. There is nothing to do here, there are no amusements, and there is nowhere to go!"

"But Lydia, that is the nature of a confinement; one does not go out and seek amusements; one is confined at home."

"Well, if you say so," retorted Lydia, irritably. "Still, I cannot see why it was necessary to begin my confinement quite so soon; the baby is not due for another month at least. I think it most unfair that I should have to remain here in Hertfordshire, while Wickham, no doubt, is enjoying himself in town."

"Lydia," asked Elizabeth, "has Wickham found some occupation in London?"

Lydia laughed. "How droll you are, Lizzy; my Wickham would be far too proud for that."

"But then what do you live upon? However can you afford to remain in London?"

Lydia smiled conspiratorially. "I am not supposed to know about it, because Wickham carries on the business behind closed doors, and contrives to send me out on some errand or other when she is coming."

"When who is coming?" asked Elizabeth, becoming curious.

"Caroline Bingley."

Elizabeth was stunned. "What? Caroline Bingley – the sister of Charles Bingley? What can she possibly have to do with your husband? Are you certain, Lydia?"

"Oh yes," said Lydia with a cunning smile. "The first time she came, he sent me out to make a purchase from the wine merchant; but I became suspicious because we still had several bottles left, and so I watched from the shop window across the street and saw her arrive and then later leave. It was most definitely Caroline Bingley!"

"Good heavens!" exclaimed Elizabeth, not knowing what it might possibly mean.

"She comes every few months, and afterwards Wickham has money. He pays Mrs. Younge the rent that is owed to her, and we dine well and enjoy all manner of amusements – until the money runs out."

"But… why would Caroline Bingley give Wickham money?"

"As you may imagine, Lizzy, I was most curious myself; but I could not ask him, as I was not supposed to even know of her visits. So on one occasion when Wickham sent me away, I hid myself instead, and after she arrived, I listened at the parlour door."

Elizabeth was shocked. Shocked at the clandestine meetings between Wickham and Miss Bingley, and shocked at Lydia's unprincipled behaviour in spying upon them. She knew that she should walk away and refuse to hear any more of the affair. But she could not; her curiosity was by this time so aroused that she simply could not do what she knew honour and propriety demanded.

"They argue," revealed Lydia. "Wickham is always demanding more money than she will give him. Once, I heard him threatening to reveal something about a letter. She kept saying that Wickham agreed to the amount in Newcastle, and that he must stand by the agreement. I could not hear everything, because sometimes they spoke softly, but I am certain that I heard Wickham mention Mr. Darcy's name – and yours."

Elizabeth gasped. It was impossible to weave all the extraordinary pieces of Lydia's revelation together into a comprehensible whole. Elizabeth had no more idea of what it could be about than her sister. But somehow, deep within, the conviction was beginning to form that this bizarre business was in some way related to Mr. Darcy's behaviour towards herself.

Bingley and Jane were settled at Willowbank by the end of the summer, and Elizabeth was delighted to join them there. Lydia's child was not yet born, but as the birth approached, her sister became increasingly bad-tempered and demanding. Elizabeth found herself admiring how well her mother endured it, and realised that when the time came, with her own experience of bearing five children, she would manage everything splendidly. Parting with her father was the most difficult part of it, but Elizabeth was greatly looking forward to living at Willowbank with dear Jane and Charles. She would make the two day journey by post, and was excited at the prospect of the adventure. Elizabeth smiled at the thought of what Lady Catherine de Bourgh would have to say on the subject of her making such a journey alone.

Willowbank was lovely in the late summer – although Elizabeth suspected that she would find it agreeable in every season. Her apartment was charming, and she felt immediately at home. She could very happily live the rest of her life here; and indeed believed that, very probably, she would.

Elizabeth was curious to know how Mr. Darcy had behaved towards Jane and Bingley since their arrival at Willowbank, several weeks earlier. On the morning following her arrival, as they were taking tea in the delightful morning room with a lovely view over the river, she questioned Jane about it.

"Everything has returned entirely to normal between Charles and Mr. Darcy," reported Jane, happily. "Mr. Darcy even conceded, after further investigation, that the price Charles paid for the property was entirely reasonable. I believe he is conscious that his behaviour towards us when we visited Pemberley was wanting, and that he means to make amends and wishes Charles to understand that he is as dear a friend to him as ever he was. Charles has such a forgiving nature that the whole matter is now completely forgotten.

"Mr. Darcy has been exceedingly kind and generous in providing us with all manner of provisions from his larders and orchards while we are settling in. Miss Darcy waits on me often, and we dine with them twice a week, at least. We are just now at the point of being able to return the hospitality, for they will dine with us, for the first time, today."

"Mr. Darcy cannot know of my arrival," said Elizabeth, "or he would not have accepted the invitation."

"No, he does not yet know of your arrival, Lizzy, but he is well aware that you are to live with us. Georgiana speaks of it often, and enthusiastically, and she has made mention of it more than once in the company of the gentlemen. Whatever are his opinions and feelings concerning you, Lizzy, that caused him to behave in so eccentric a manner at Pemberley in June, I do believe that henceforth he means to conduct himself entirely civilly in your presence so that we can all enjoy each other's society without the least bit of awkwardness."

"I do hope you are correct. One would expect nothing less of a man of Mr. Darcy's breeding and character," replied Elizabeth hopefully. "If our father was able to sit at the same table and conduct himself in a gentlemanly fashion with George Wickham, after all his history with Lydia, then Mr. Darcy should be able to endure my company with stoic good grace."

In the event, if Darcy had intended to behave with stoic good grace, he failed utterly. He was completely discomposed from the first moment he set eyes upon Elizabeth. He managed the curtest of greetings, after which he refused to allow his eyes to travel in her direction. Against her better judgement, Elizabeth attempted to engage him in conversation. "Have you had the opportunity yet, Mr. Darcy, of fishing in Mr. Bingley's river?" she enquired.

A muffled grunt, sounding somewhat like a "Yes," was all the gentleman could manage, as he stared hard at the floor.

Realising that the meal was doomed to be a disaster, and greatly embarrassing for the whole party, Elizabeth drew her sister aside and whispered, "I am sorry, Jane; but this is unbearable. Please make my apologies – a sudden headache, tell them." With that, she turned and quickly left the room.

Elizabeth was seated in her apartment, picking over the food that Jane had sent up for her; but she had no appetite. Her spirits were even lower than they had been at Jane's wedding, when she had only the loss of Darcy's affection and the pain of his cruel and cold behaviour to endure. Now she had, in addition, the fear that her presence at Willowbank might ruin two precious friendships: that of Bingley and Darcy, and of Georgiana and Jane. The intimacy which seemed destined to flourish between Pemberley and Willowbank, to the mutual benefit and delight of them all would be destroyed by her presence.

Elizabeth's mind went round and round in the same hopeless, painful circle; she could find no way out. She must leave Cheshire and return to Longbourn; there was nothing else to be done. Her thoughts were thus engaged when Jane knocked at her door, her guests having just departed. Upon entering, she immediately rushed to her sister and embraced her.

"I am sorry, Jane, but I could not have borne it."

"Do not blame yourself, Lizzy; you have done nothing to be sorry for. I watched Mr. Darcy closely from the moment he entered the room, and I saw how it would have been had you stayed. Though he remained sombre, he regained his composure, somewhat, after you left, and behaved tolerably well. I do not believe that Charles or Georgiana appreciated the embarrassment it would have been for us all had you not excused yourself. Whatever can be the matter with the man? I thought I knew him, but he is become someone else – a stranger whom I cannot comprehend in the least."

"Jane, there is something I must tell you, which I learned from Lydia while I was in Longbourn. I have been hesitating to speak on the matter as it involves information obtained by spying upon others and eavesdropping on their conversations. I know that as a matter of honour, you would prefer not to receive information obtained in such a manner; however, in this case, I believe you must, for I suspect that it bears some connection with Mr. Darcy's extraordinary behaviour towards myself."

"If that is your opinion, Lizzy, I will hear it."

Elizabeth proceeded to recount everything that Lydia had told her.

Jane was stunned into silence. After several minutes, she finally exclaimed, "Caroline Bingley pay money to George Wickham? I cannot fathom a reason. And Lydia said that mention was made of your name – and of Mr. Darcy's – in relation to what?"

"She did not hear; only that Wickham was threatening to reveal something about a letter. I have thought about this a great deal, since first I heard it. My surmise is that Mr. Darcy has received a letter containing slanderous lies about me. Caroline Bingley is involved in the deceit, and Wickham has learned of it, and is threatening to reveal its spurious nature to Mr. Darcy. Caroline Bingley is obliged to provide money to keep him quiet.

"The notion that Mr. Darcy is in receipt of a report of a slanderous nature concerning myself is, admittedly, pure conjecture, and is not directly supported by anything Lydia has recounted. I must continue to remind myself of this fact, and endeavour not to allow myself to believe it unquestioningly, in the absence of further evidence."

"Yet it perfectly explains all the events witnessed by Lydia," mused Jane, "…and Mr. Darcy's recent behaviour."

"Not just his recent behaviour – but all of it, since the time of your betrothal to Bingley, when Darcy failed to return into Hertfordshire. I was hoping at the time, as you know, that he would come to pay me his addresses."

"So you believe that Caroline deliberately set about blackening your name in Mr. Darcy's eyes – to prevent him from wishing to marry you?"

"Exactly! It has been evident to me from almost the first moment I saw Miss Bingley in Mr. Darcy's company that it was her fondest desire to become his wife."

"Yes, it is quite unmistakable," replied Jane before falling silent again. It seemed almost incomprehensible to her that such skulduggery, which resembled the plot of some fanciful novel, could be happening amongst her nearest acquaintances. Yet, try as she might, she was unable to find an innocent explanation for Lydia's astonishing disclosure.

"I cannot imagine how Miss Bingley is able to pay Wickham so much money," mused Jane. "Enough, it would seem, for him and Lydia to live upon. Caroline is a lady of fashion with expensive tastes. Her extravagant purchases often exceed her allowance, and it is not at all unusual for her to apply to Charles for an advance on her quarterly remittance."

"Is it possible that Miss Bingley is obtaining the money from her brother?" asked Elizabeth.

Jane shook her head. "No; Charles would certainly have mentioned it to me. And most assuredly, he would not have given his sister such sums without an explanation of their intended use; and had he any inkling that it was for bribery, he would unquestionably have refused her. No, I do not believe that the money can be coming from Charles, but if you wish to be certain, I shall ask him."

"No, Jane, I would rather you did not. I do not wish to involve your husband in any of this."

"Are you quite certain, Lizzy? After witnessing Mr. Darcy's behaviour today, I am convinced that Charles must very soon become aware of his friend's inexplicable bitterness towards you – it cannot be concealed for very long. If you would but allow me to acquaint him with all the details, he might be able to get to the bottom of it. He could question his sister about the money and also demand an explanation from Mr. Darcy for his bizarre behaviour towards you; and he could inquire about the contents of this mysterious letter. Do you not see, Lizzy, it might provide you with the opportunity of refuting whatever lies have been laid at your door. You might even regain Mr. Darcy's esteem," she added softy.

"No, Jane, I forbid it. I would rather give up Willowbank entirely and return to Longbourn. Indeed, I fear I must; for I do not wish to be the instrument of destroying the intimacy and friendship that exists between Willowbank and Pemberley."

"But it is Darcy, not you, who is that instrument," exclaimed Jane. "You must not blame yourself, Lizzy."

"I do not blame myself. I know that I have done nothing to regret or be ashamed of. But still, I cannot remain here, knowing that it will destroy Bingley's most important friendship, and also that which has blossomed between Miss Darcy and yourself. And can you not see how terribly awkward it would be for us all?"

"Elizabeth, you are our sister. Your place is here with us – you must stay. If a choice is to be made, then family comes before friendship. Still, I am hopeful that such a choice will not be necessary. Promise me you will not speak again of leaving Willowbank, for it grieves me deeply."

Elizabeth promised, and Jane agreed not to reveal what she knew to her husband; although it seemed to her inevitable that Charles must very soon realise that his friend wished to avoid the company of her sister.

No further dinner invitations were received from Pemberley; Miss Darcy did not come to wait upon the ladies at Willowbank, and politely declined Jane's invitation for her and her brother to dine with them. In her note, she expressed her regret that on account of her brother being presently indisposed, he wished to remain quietly at Pemberley, and for her to do likewise. In deference to his wishes, she found herself unable to receive visitors.

It was all very much as Elizabeth had expected.

Charles Bingley was ignorant of the communications between the ladies, and continued his excursions to Pemberley to shoot and fish with his friend, who he found to be somewhat less talkative than usual. Darcy frequently appeared to be preoccupied in sombre thought, and always found some excuse for not coming to shoot and fish at Willowbank. Bingley commented at the table one day upon the lack of visits amongst the ladies, and that it seemed a great while, indeed, since they had dined at Pemberley or had Darcy and his sister to dine with them.

In spite of her promise to Jane, Elizabeth was again considering departing Cheshire. She could not bear to feel herself the cause of the growing estrangement between Pemberley and Willowbank. Though it would be a terrible wrench to give up the company of her most beloved sister and the beauty of Willowbank, she could think of no other course. Elizabeth wrestled for many days with the dilemma, before, at length, taking up her pen and writing.

'Dear Miss Darcy,

It is with great regret that I observe the cessation of intercourse between Pemberley and Willowbank, which has coincided with my arrival in Cheshire. If you are not privy to the reason, then you are very likely puzzled as to why this has come about. Allow me to enlighten you: It is on account of your brother's earnest desire to avoid all contact with me.

As you may know, my sister and her husband have invited me to make my home with them at Willowbank. It grieves me to think that my presence here may be the means of ruining the deep friendship that has long existed between Mr. Bingley and your brother. Furthermore, the friendship between my sister and yourself seems, likewise, certain to suffer.

I therefore propose that you resume your invitations to Mr. Bingley and my sister to visit and dine at Pemberley. It will be understood that such invitations do not include myself.

It will also be understood that Mr. Darcy does not wish for the hospitality to be returned, and no such invitations will be given. I hope that my sister will once again be welcome to wait upon you at Pemberley. If you are unable to return such visits, the reason will be readily understood.

Yours, etc,
Elizabeth Bennet'

Elizabeth did not show the letter to Jane, for fear that she would object to her self-imposed withdrawal from all intercourse with Pemberley. However, after it was sent, she apprised Jane of its contents. Jane was not happy, but she understood and respected her sister's motives. "How shall I explain such an unusual arrangement to Charles?" she asked.

"Tell him that Mr. Darcy and I have had a falling out, and that we neither of us wish to be in the company of the other; and that the arrangement suits us both. Give him to understand that I would feel most uncomfortable in discussing the particulars. Say only that I would prefer not to speak of Mr. Darcy with him, and that it is my express wish that he should not enter into discussion with Mr. Darcy concerning myself."

The following day, a message arrived from Miss Darcy – not for Elizabeth but for Jane. It was a brief note requesting the pleasure of a visit.

When Jane entered the morning room at Pemberley, Georgiana, who was sitting alone, rose to greet her guest. She appeared embarrassed and discomposed. Jane embraced her and smiled warmly. "It is so good to see you again, my dear Georgiana."

"And I you, dear Jane."

Once they were seated, Georgiana took a deep breath. It appeared that there was something she wished to say. Jane remained silent and waited.

"I am so unhappy and confused, it is hard to know what I must do. My brother has been acting most peculiarly of late. He has become withdrawn and unsociable. I was beginning to fear he must be suffering some manner of nervous disorder. Then yesterday, I received a letter from your sister. She wrote something most shocking – about my brother – do you – have you –?" she paused, not knowing how to continue.

"I did not see the letter; however Elizabeth revealed its contents to me after it had been sent."

"Oh, then you must know. I was so astonished at what Miss Bennet wrote that I immediately asked my brother if it was true that he wished to avoid your sister. He asked me from whence came such a notion, and I told him that Miss Bennet had written of it in a letter. My brother demanded to see the letter, and though I thought it wrong of him, I was obliged to obey."

"Yes, of course, my dear, you had no choice in the matter; you did what was right," Jane reassured her.

"He read the letter and simply said, 'What Miss Bennet proposes is entirely acceptable to me – with the proviso that you do not visit Willowbank.'"

"'Then it is true,' said I, 'you do indeed wish to avoid contact with Miss Bennet?' 'Yes, it is perfectly true,' he said with a sternness that frightened me, 'and I likewise wish you to avoid all contact with her.' I gathered up my courage, for I knew he wished not to discuss the matter further, and asked him the reason for so extraordinary a resolve."

Georgiana paused; she was too embarrassed and upset to continue.

"And did your brother furnish a reason?" inquired Jane gently.

"He did. My brother was not explicit; but he implied that your sister is not a respectable lady. I know my brother would never lie to me, yet I cannot believe it. Now I do not know what to think," said Georgiana miserably.

"Georgiana, I can assure you that my sister is every bit as respectable as you and I – or any lady in England. Your brother has been imposed upon by those who would wish him to think ill of my sister. Please do not ask me the particulars, for I know but a small part of it, and I am not authorised to reveal anything further."

"How shocking!" exclaimed Georgiana. "How awful it must be for your poor sister to know that lies are being spoken about her – and believed! I must go at once to my brother and inform him that these reports are not true!"

"Please, Georgiana, speak not a word of this to anyone! My sister wished for you to know of it, for she could not bear to have you think ill of her. She explicitly requested that this information be given to you in the strictest confidence."

"Why? Why cannot I tell my brother that whatever he has heard against your sister is all falsehood and slander?"

"He would not believe you, and would very likely become angry with both you and I; he might even forbid you to receive me at Pemberley."

"Then I shall do as you say, and respect your confidences. Please tell Elizabeth that I unreservedly believe in her goodness. Tell her, also, how unhappy I am at being presently unable to enjoy her society. I was so looking forward to deepening the intimacy which began between us during your short stay here, at Pemberley, two months ago."

"It shall be my great pleasure," replied Jane, "and I am certain it will please her."

"Now I wish to tell you something in confidence, Jane. A year ago, when Elizabeth was travelling in Derbyshire with her aunt and uncle, she visited Pemberley, and my brother was most anxious to introduce us. I had never seen him so animated by a young lady and, well… I began to believe him to be very much in love with your sister; and, I confess, I liked her so well that I hoped very much that she would very soon become my sister, also. Even when some urgent business unexpectedly took her from Derbyshire, I did not despair, for I had observed the strength of my brother's feelings, and felt confident that they must be one day united. When nothing came of it after many months, I was surprised – and disappointed; but now it seems, there is an explanation."

Jane sighed sadly, but said nothing.

"Someone has deliberately set out to deceive my brother concerning Elizabeth's character, and consequently, he has decided against her. That was most certainly their intention," said Miss Darcy, thinking aloud. "But why would anyone wish to prevent them from marrying?" She pondered the question a few moments, before her eyes suddenly opened wide. "Because it is a lady who wishes to marry him herself – and it is not very difficult to guess who!"

"Georgiana, please!" exclaimed Jane, holding up her hand. "I do not wish to speak further on the subject. You have a very quick mind; but let me counsel you to always take care not to believe things without proof; and more particularly, not to speak of your speculations. You know not the damage you may do to the reputation of another!"

"I am sorry, Jane, you are quite correct. It would indeed be most improper. But on another subject," continued Georgiana, smiling mischievously, "my brother has asked me to send an invitation to your husband's sister, Miss Bingley, to be my guest at Pemberley."

"Oh," said Jane, uncomfortably. She should by now have invited Caroline to stay with them at Willowbank; but had refrained, even before the recent revelations from Lydia, on account of Elizabeth and Miss Bingley's mutual dislike of each other. In any event, Caroline would never have accepted the invitation while Elizabeth was at Willowbank. Jane was fastidious in according Miss Bingley everything that was her due as her husband's sister; nevertheless, she found her insincerity something of a trial, and could not feel unhappy that she would stay at Pemberley rather than with them.