Beginning, Section II, Next Section

Chapter 7 ~ An Engagement is Announced

Posted on 2010-11-20

Intercourse between Willowbank and Pemberley resumed, albeit on the somewhat unorthodox basis proposed in Elizabeth's letter. Charles Bingley, at the insistence of his wife, made no allusion to the peculiarity of the arrangements, nor did Miss Darcy, nor Mr. Darcy. When they dined at Pemberley, it seemed to Jane that Elizabeth's unmentionable absence had an intangible presence. On occasion, the party was larger, and included one or more of the neighbouring families; and though they must certainly know that Mrs. Bingley had a younger sister living with them at Willowbank, her name never intruded upon their conversation. The taboo regarding Miss Bennet had circulated quickly throughout the neighbourhood, and her ostracism at Pemberley ensured her exclusion from all local society.

There was a brief interruption to the resumption of relations with Pemberley when news arrived from Kent that Lady Catherine de Bourgh was gravely ill. By the time that Mr. Darcy and his sister had arrived at Rosings Park, the great lady had breathed her last. But even great tragedies can sometimes be the harbinger of good fortune; which, in this instance, was that Colonel Fitzwilliam accompanied his cousins into Derbyshire after Lady Catherine had been reunited at long last in the family crypt with Sir Lewis.

Colonel Fitzwilliam was a most welcome addition to the Pemberley dining table. Georgiana was delighted that her cousin intended to remain some time with them in Derbyshire, for he always treated her with the utmost kindness and affection. Jane could not but notice that Georgiana's conversation with her cousin was far more confident and animated than was generally the case with her brother.

"And how, pray tell, is your sister?" inquired the colonel of Jane, at their first meeting. "I understand that Miss Bennet is now residing at Willowbank. I was greatly anticipating the pleasure of her charming company at our little party today, and must declare myself vastly disappointed not to see her."

Jane had been conjecturing as to whether Mr. Darcy would have apprised his cousin of his base opinion regarding Elizabeth – or at least of his unwillingness to be in her society – and the peculiar arrangements that had developed in consequence. She had been dreading just such an enquiry which must inevitably arise if he had not done so, and awkwardly alluded to her sister being a little unwell at the present time.

Colonel Fitzwilliam, noting the embarrassment of the whole company, and the red faces of the ladies – and even Darcy – was far too much the gentleman to persevere; and simply enquired if he might call upon Miss Bennet the following day; a request to which Jane readily acceded.

Colonel Fitzwilliam waited until the guests had departed and he was alone with Darcy before asking the question which had been with him since the meal. "Darcy, what on earth is going on? What is the real reason for Miss Bennet's absence from Pemberley today?"

Darcy drained his port, refilled his glass, and took a long draught of it. Staring fixedly at his glass rather than meeting his cousin's gaze, he said. "I am in receipt of intelligence that is greatly to Miss Bennet's disadvantage; in consequence of which I will not receive her at Pemberley or admit her into my society."

"Good God, man! I cannot imagine that any possible reason could exist for thinking ill of the lady. What is your information?"

"I refuse to disclose it."

"Are you bound by honour, or an oath, to secrecy?"

"No; I simply choose not to reveal it. As a consequence of the intelligence I have received, all regard for that lady's reputation has long been lost in my eyes – yet I do not wish for others to know of it."

"Are you absolutely certain of the veracity of your information, Darcy?"

"Most regrettably, I am. It has received corroboration from more than one independent source," said Darcy. Then finally looking his cousin directly in the eye, he said sombrely, "I wish to God that this were just a nightmare from which I could awaken, and discover it to be nothing but a dark delusion with not an ounce of truth to it." He gave a long, sorrowful sigh. "I am a creature of reason, Fitzwilliam, and I cannot ignore what reason tells me must be the truth, no matter how much I would wish it to be otherwise. Please do not speak of Miss Bennet with Georgiana. She is as ignorant as you of the information; she knows only that I refuse to have any contact with the lady. I have forbidden my sister to call upon her, and I most strongly advise you to likewise eschew her society."

Colonel Fitzwilliam sipped his port thoughtfully for some time before replying, "Notwithstanding my admiration for your intellect, your considerable powers of cogitation, your experience as a magistrate in forming a reasoned opinion based upon the evidence to hand, and above all, of your fair-mindedness, I believe that your conclusion, in this instance, cannot be correct."

"How can you say such a thing, Fitzwilliam? You are entirely ignorant of the evidence upon which my judgement is formed."

"True, I know nothing of your evidence, but I flatter myself in believing that I know something of Miss Bennet's character, which I must tell you, I find to be in every respect unimpeachable. Unless some compelling evidence to the contrary is laid before me, I shall continue to judge Miss Bennet upon her own words and deeds, without the least cognisance of the mysterious information which appears to hold you in its thrall."

Colonel Fitzwilliam became a regular visitor to Willowbank. He often rode over to call upon the ladies of a morning; he was pleased to fish with Bingley in the river or to shoot with him in the woods; and he happily accepted Mrs. Bingley's frequent invitations to dine with them. He was particularly fond of taking a turn in the garden if Miss Bennet could be persuaded to join him.

"Elizabeth," said her sister one morning while they were taking tea, "I do believe that Colonel Fitzwilliam is becoming rather fond of your company. I do not imagine that he makes the long journey from Pemberley so often on account of either Bingley or myself – or the fish in the river or the game in the woods," she said with a teasing smile.

"He tells me that he greatly enjoys a good ride, and that with his excellent mount, he is able to make the journey in under an hour," replied Elizabeth innocently.

"Has he ever spoken to you upon the subject of his cousin's exclusion of you from his society?"

"Once only – and briefly. He gave me to understand that he had not the least idea of – nor interest in learning – the reasons for his cousin's bizarre behaviour, and he begged me to believe that his regard for me had not suffered a jot on that account. On the contrary, he intimated that if his regard for me had altered, it had increased, rather than diminished."

Jane smiled. "I think he must be falling in love with you, Lizzy! I will admit that I have suspected it for a little while now."

"Oh, I hope not," replied Elizabeth. "I like him very much, and always find his company delightful. He is a well-bred man, with pleasant, well-informed conversation and delightful manners – but I do not believe I could ever come to love him."

"Well, you must know your own heart, Lizzy, and certainly, you know what it is to love." Regretting her allusion to Mr. Darcy, Jane quickly turned the conversation back to his cousin. "Then you must be careful, Lizzy, not to allow the colonel to hope."

"Jane, I do not believe that he is falling in love with me; and furthermore, I have reason to believe that he guards his heart most carefully, and will not lose it where there is no hope."

"Whatever do you mean?"

"He made a singular remark to me one day when we were walking together in the woods at Rosings Park, which I took to be a warning. It was something about younger sons, such as himself, not being able to marry where they liked. He spoke, regretfully, I thought, of the necessity of marrying a woman of fortune."

"So you think he was warning you not to think of him as a marriage prospect?"

"Precisely. He knew I had no money, and wishing to enjoy my company, he felt it incumbent upon himself to ensure that I did not misunderstand his intentions. I thought it most honourable of him; and I do not believe that anything has changed in that regard."

The next visitor expected at Pemberley was Caroline Bingley, and news of her arrival was brought by Colonel Fitzwilliam when he came one morning to fish with Charles. They were engaged to dine at Pemberley the following day, and Jane was curious to see how Caroline would conduct herself. She behaved with all her usual insincere charm and declared herself delighted to see Charles and herself – although she reserved the greater part of her flattery for Mr. Darcy and his sister. It was evident to Jane that Caroline was intent upon courting the good opinion of them both.

When the ladies withdrew after the meal, Jane said to Caroline, beside whom she was seated in the drawing room, "Your brother, Charles, was surprised to learn that you have been several days at Pemberley, and have not yet paid a visit to Willowbank. He is eager, as you may imagine, for you to see the fine estate he has purchased."

"Oh!" exclaimed Miss Bingley, making so severe a frown as to alarm Georgiana, who fled to the pianoforte, where she occupied herself in looking studiously through the sheets of music as if she were having difficulty in deciding what to play when the gentlemen joined them.

"Please come and wait on me at Willowbank, any morning," said Jane politely, uncertain of how her invitation would be received. "Colonel Fitzwilliam is engaged to dine with us in two days time. Charles and I would be delighted if you would join us also."

Miss Bingley rose from the sofa and began pacing agitatedly back and forth, further alarming Georgiana, who opened the instrument and began playing a soothing French lullaby.

Returning to where Jane was seated, Miss Bingley glared down at her, as if she herself had been insulted, and hissed, "You must know that it is quite impossible for me to visit Willowbank while Miss Bennet is there. As an unmarried woman, I have my reputation to consider. I cannot possibly go into the society of a woman who has…."

Jane stood abruptly, and facing Caroline Bingley with calm dignity, she enquired, "Who has… what, Caroline? What, pray tell, do you know of the matter?"

Miss Bingley was taken aback by the uncharacteristic forcefulness of her sister-in-law. She blushed and turned away; then avoiding Jane's gaze, she replied, "My information is of a general nature only; its source is Mr. Darcy, whose veracity and good judgement I greatly respect. Furthermore, as a guest in his house, I feel myself obliged to abide by his wishes. I understand that neither he nor his sister will receive Miss Bennet at Pemberley, and that they do not visit Willowbank, on account of her presence there. I must take my lead from them." Before Jane could respond or question her further, Miss Bingley walked over to the pianoforte and began fawning over Georgiana.

Jane was so upset by Caroline Bingley that for a time she stopped calling upon Georgiana, for she knew that Caroline would be with her in the morning room at Pemberley; and her sister-in-law's supercilious society was too much for even her tolerant disposition. She suspected that poor Georgiana must find it a trial, being constantly confined to Caroline's company and subjected to her patently false affections. To an intelligent girl such as Georgiana, it could not but be apparent that Miss Bingley's professed fondness for her was mere artifice, designed to cultivate the good opinion of the sister of the man whom she was determined to have as her husband.

Jane avoided alluding to the probable marriage of Miss Bingley and Mr. Darcy to Elizabeth, for she was certain that her sister still had feelings for the gentleman – conflicted though they might be. However, a conversation had taken place between Mr. Darcy and her husband which she felt bound to report to her sister.

"Lizzy, there is something I must tell you. Last night, Mr. Darcy requested a private conversation with Charles. His object was to ascertain Charles' views on his marrying Caroline. Charles consented, of course, but he surprised Darcy by saying that he would have preferred his sister to marry someone who loved her."

Elizabeth was silent. The news was hardly surprising. Mr. Darcy's intention had been implicit in his request that Georgiana invite Miss Bingley to Pemberley; and he could hardly have been in any doubt as to the eagerness with which his proposal would be accepted.

"Your husband is lately become quite outspoken with his friend," replied Elizabeth, attempting to make light of the matter. "How did Mr. Darcy respond? Did he swear his undying love for Miss Bingley?"

Jane smiled. "According to Charles, he was serious and sombre – not what one would expect at such a moment in his life. He simply said that he does not believe in love, and that he needs to think about an heir."

A tear ran down Elizabeth's cheek. Jane embraced her and said, "I am sorry, Lizzy, to bring you such news. I know that despite everything, it must distress you."

"Yes," replied Elizabeth sadly, drying her eyes, "it distresses me deeply, and I do not know whether my tears are for myself or for Mr. Darcy." She struggled to subdue her feelings. Perhaps once he is married and all hope is gone, the intensity of the multitude of conflicting emotions he provokes in me will be blunted and finally die, thought Elizabeth. "Has a date been set for the wedding?"

"They are to wed in a little more than a month, in early September."

"So soon!" exclaimed Elizabeth.

"Charles believes that they have had an understanding for some time."

"Perhaps Mr. Darcy was waiting for Lady Catherine to die," said Elizabeth. "She had been ill for some time – it was not unexpected. I think I told you that his aunt was determined that Mr. Darcy should marry her daughter, Anne. Perhaps he waited out of consideration for her sentiments."

Jane received a note from Georgiana, begging her to wait on her the following morning, when she would be all alone.

Georgiana was most pleased to see Jane. "I fully understand your reasons for not calling upon me of late, dear Jane; no apology is necessary. I would do no less in your position – oh, that I could so easily escape her! You must know of the betrothal." Jane nodded. "How shall I bear it when she becomes mistress of Pemberley? She will no longer have reason to pretend she adores me, or even to treat me with tolerable kindness. I shall be under her power – it will be altogether awful," she cried.

"My poor Georgiana," said Jane, embracing her. "There is but one escape."

"I know," said Georgiana, with a long, sad, sigh. "I must marry; it is the only remedy."

"Do not be sad, my dear. If you marry wisely, where there is love, you will be happy, indeed."

"Yes, perhaps. But, Jane, I am not yet ready to marry. I do so wish to remain here at Pemberley for many more years yet, with my brother – and with a sister whom I can truly love…."

Jane embraced Georgiana again. She was well aware that it was her sister, Elizabeth, whom she wished her brother to marry; but did not give voice to it, for though she wished for exactly the same thing, she knew it to be impossible.

"I am no longer a child, Jane, and I know it does no good to dream. Therefore, I must begin seriously thinking about marriage. My brother is to give a ball at Pemberley to celebrate his betrothal. That is why you find me all alone this morning; Miss Bingley is gone to Chesterfield to commission a gown for the occasion. I wish to talk with you of prospective husbands – or at least of one in particular."

"Lord Netherby?" guessed Jane, and when Georgiana nodded, she asked, "Do you like him?"

Georgiana smiled. "I do like him. He is very pleasant; though I confess, I never had the least desire to marry him – until now! I am well aware that my brother decided some time ago that Lord Netherby would make me a suitable husband, and that an alliance between our families would be advantageous to them both. Together with Lady Netherby, who, no doubt, is party to the scheme, my brother took pains to ensure that I was often in his company when we were lately in town. Jane, I want your advice. Everyone seems to think it desirable – and it would save me from Caroline Bingley."

"But none of that is to the point if you and Lord Netherby do not love each other."

"What matters love?" asked Georgiana. "I have never truly known love of that sort; and it does not appear to be a consideration for either my brother or Miss Bingley – neither of whom loves the other."

"I fear you are seeking counsel from the wrong person, my dear, for I do believe in love. It is better, in my opinion, not to marry at all than to marry without love."

"Lord Netherby and his sister will be invited to the ball, and to spend some days at Pemberley. It will give me an opportunity to consider his character and to think seriously upon whether I could be happy with him."

"That is most sensible. I do not say you should not marry him; only that you should not rush into it. I found him to be a most charming and agreeable young man, and I know that Elizabeth was likewise charmed. If you are able to love Lord Netherby, and he returns your love, then he is very likely the ideal husband for you."

"Jane, I wish to ask you about your sister and Lord Netherby."

"What do you mean? There is absolutely nothing at all between them; of that I can assure you."

"I thought Elizabeth very taken with him – and he with her. They seemed to converse so easily and with such animation at his mother's ball. Though it did not trouble me in the least, it appeared to me that Lord Netherby found your sister far more fascinating than myself. I would feel terrible, after everything Elizabeth has had to endure – and continues to endure – if I should be the means of her losing the possibility of finding happiness."

"Your kindness and consideration do you credit, dear Georgiana," replied Jane, "but please believe me when I say that it is quite impossible that Lord Netherby could have captured my sister's heart."

"Because it still belongs to another?" asked Georgiana sadly.

Jane gently shrugged her shoulders and sighed.

The day before the Pemberley ball, while picking flowers, Elizabeth heard the sound of horses, and looking up, she saw an unfamiliar carriage approaching the house. As the occupants alighted, Elizabeth was surprised to recognise Lord Edward Netherby and his sister, both of whom greeted her warmly. Jane and Bingley were delighted to welcome them to Willowbank and immediately proposed a tour of the grounds in the late morning sunshine.

Elizabeth was surprised at their arrival, given the prohibition at Pemberley regarding visits to Willowbank and her exclusion from Mr. Darcy's society. But they only arrived at Pemberley yesterday evening, considered Elizabeth. Mr. Darcy has not yet had the opportunity to warn them of how dangerous a creature I am.

Lord Netherby attached himself to Elizabeth and contrived to separate her from the rest of the party as they walked along the bank of the beautiful river. "I must confess that it was more than merely the fabled delights of Willowbank which drew me here so promptly. I come with a particular request to make of you, Miss Bennet. If that honour is not already promised to another, I request the pleasure of the first two dances at the ball tomorrow."

"Oh!" exclaimed Elizabeth. How awkward, she thought. To give herself time to consider of how she might best explain the situation, she said, "There are those, I imagine, who might have wished – indeed expected – that special honour to be bestowed upon another."

"Ah yes," laughed Lord Netherby. "You are doubtless alluding to the designs of my mother and my friend Darcy – who has already intimated, and not at all subtly, I might add, how delighted he would be to see me partnering one particular young lady when he opens the ball with his betrothed."

"The symbolism is quite unmistakable," said Elizabeth, with an impish smile.

"Indeed it is, and while I have the warmest regard for that young lady, my feelings for another are warmer yet," said he, looking at Elizabeth, who steadfastly avoided his gaze.

"Lord Netherby, I thank you for the honour of your invitation. I am conscious of the warmth of your application; but, most regrettably, I must decline it."

Lord Netherby smiled, "Alas, I have left my run too late. I should have guessed that a lady of your considerable beauty and charm would be much sought after; her card could not possibly be empty so close to a ball. I pray that I am not too late, that it is not entirely full; that there are yet one or two – or perhaps even three – dances left for me?"

Elizabeth could not but be flattered at Lord Netherby's playful gallantry. However, the strength of his stated preference both surprised and alarmed her. Elizabeth liked Lord Netherby very much, and took great pleasure in his company. Perhaps, if her heart were not caught up in what felt to be an unending tempest, she might, very well, in time, come to love him. And then there was Georgiana. In consequence of Jane's report of their recent conversation, Elizabeth was aware that although she had not previously favoured her brother's scheme of marrying her to Lord Netherby, Georgiana was now considering it seriously, as a means of escaping her future sister-in-law, Caroline Bingley. Having spent several days in Netherfield Park where Miss Bingley was mistress – and then, as a visitor, not a younger sister – Elizabeth sympathised deeply with Georgiana, and wished in no way to become an obstacle to a possible means of her escaping such a fate.

It occurred to Elizabeth that her answer to Lord Netherby must also act to destroy his ardour and leave the field clear for Georgiana. Yet it was a disagreeable undertaking, which she embarked upon without enthusiasm. "Regrettably, Lord Netherby, I have no dance card in which to enter your name, for I shall not be attending the ball at Pemberley tomorrow."

"I do not comprehend your meaning, Miss Bennet. Surely you cannot have another engagement that would take precedence over a ball! Young ladies are always complaining that there are never enough balls in the country. Why, my sister and I have travelled from Nottinghamshire to attend, and you live nearer. Furthermore, the purpose of the ball is to celebrate the engagement of Mr. Bingley's sister. Surely all of Willowbank must attend on so significant an occasion of their relative?"

"Mr. and Mrs. Bingley will most certainly be in attendance, but not I, for I have not been invited," said Elizabeth, feeling all the embarrassment of so bizarre a revelation.

Lord Netherby, looking at her most earnestly, enquired, "Miss Bennet, what is this all about? I must tell you that I did not fail to notice, at my mother's ball in London, that not only did Mr. Darcy not dance with you, but he appeared to go to great lengths to avoid you."

Elizabeth sighed, but remained silent.

"His behaviour struck me most forcibly and was entirely contrary to my expectations, on account of something which occurred about a year ago when I happened to run into Darcy at our club in London.

"He had just come up from Derbyshire to take care of some urgent matter of business. We were talking and drinking – too much, no doubt – and he intimated that for the first time in his life he understood what it was to love. Later in the evening, when we had imbibed even more wine, and were engaged in a most animated conversation regarding female beauty, he spoke with uncharacteristic passion and candour of a young lady whom he had first met in Hertfordshire and had but recently encountered again, in Derbyshire. Towards the end of the evening – or at least the last of it that I can recall; I do not know how much of it Darcy remembers – he mentioned a young lady who had the most beautiful eyes he had ever beheld. Though he was not explicit, it was evident that he was referring to the same lady of whom he had spoken on the two earlier occasions that evening. This time he let slip her name – it was… well, I imagine you can guess it," said Lord Netherby, smiling playfully at Elizabeth.

Elizabeth's face reddened. She stared silently at the river. It must have been when Mr. Darcy was in London searching for Lydia and Wickham. Elizabeth had always thought him to be of a sober temperament, but perhaps the odious nature of the task in which he was then engaged caused him to overindulge with his friend on the evening in question.

"And now he is to marry Miss Caroline Bingley," said Lord Netherby, shaking his head disdainfully. "How can my friend have allowed his ambitions to fall so far, from the very highest to… well… tell me, Miss Bennet, did you refuse… err, pardon me, that is not a proper question to ask a lady."

Elizabeth smiled inwardly, for she surmised that Lord Netherby was conjecturing that she had refused an offer of marriage from Darcy – which, indeed she had, in Kent – but she well knew that it was not the reason for his present behaviour.

"Please forgive me, Miss Bennet, if I am overly forthright," said Lord Netherby, "but I find my friend Darcy's behaviour provoking. Whatever the offence for which he means to punish you by excluding you from his ball, I must say that you got off lightly; it is nothing in comparison to the punishment which he has apportioned to himself!"

"You are mistaken, sir, with regard to the reason why I did not receive an invitation."

"Oh?"

"Since my arrival here at Willowbank, Mr. Darcy has scrupulously excluded me from his company. When Mr. Bingley and my sister are invited to dine, I do not accompany them to Pemberley. Mr. Darcy and his sister do not dine at Willowbank, and neither does he come to shoot or fish with Mr. Bingley, nor allow his sister to call upon me. Being the first family of the district, Darcy's lead is unquestioningly followed by the local society."

"Good God!" exclaimed Lord Netherby, in outrage. "What reason has he given for such brutish behaviour?"

"To society at large, none that I know of. It is simply assumed that whatever the reasons of a man of Darcy's stature and reputation, they must be just and well-deserved. Doubtless the local gossip is teeming with salacious stories and speculations of my heinous wrongdoings; but my friends are kind enough to conceal them from me. To his sister and cousin, to whom some explanation was necessary, he has… cast aspersions upon my character."

"Good heavens! How can they believe it? How could anyone who knows you believe it?"

"They do not believe it. Miss Darcy is naturally obliged to obey her brother's ruling, but Colonel Fitzwilliam comes here often, and frequently dines with us."

"I am glad to hear it; he is a sensible and honourable man. But then so, too, is Darcy, or at least I have always thought him so – until now! Do you have any idea, Miss Bennet, why Mr. Darcy is behaving in so extraordinary a manner? Though I must now question his good sense, I cannot doubt his integrity; he would not give his sister and cousin reason to believe something that he did not, himself, believe to be unquestionably the truth. But how did he come to believe it?"

"I do not know exactly what slander Mr. Darcy has heard concerning me. I only know that he has been imposed upon by those who would seek to mislead him and to blacken my name," said Elizabeth harshly.

"How completely awful this must be for you, my dear Miss Bennet. Please believe me when I say that I do not for a single moment give the slightest credence to these lies – regardless of what Darcy may believe."

"Thank you, sir, I am most grateful," said Elizabeth.

"Do you know the identity of the perpetrators of this falsehood? Is there any way to expose them?"

"I believe I know the individuals involved in the deception. Though to be perfectly truthful, I can only claim to know for certain that the people in question are engaged in some kind of slippery, clandestine dealings. I have reason, but not proof, to suppose that the purpose of those dealings is to deceive Mr. Darcy regarding my character. I know not the specifics of their lies."

"But if Darcy were to hear all this, is it not possible that he would be persuaded?"

Elizabeth sighed. "I think not. He has hated me unflinchingly for so long that I doubt very much I would receive a fair hearing – in the unlikely event that he would even agree to listen."

"Perhaps if you told me everything, I could represent your case to Darcy. He would, I believe, at least listen to me," said Lord Netherby.

"I cannot agree, sir," replied Elizabeth, shaking her head sadly. "His heart is closed to me; it is as if I no longer exist. He enforces a strict taboo at Pemberley – my name may not be mentioned. I think he would refuse to hear you. I thank you for your kindness and generosity, sir, in wishing to be of assistance, but I have other reasons for not wishing to accept your kind offer. My information comes from an acquaintance who obtained it by underhanded means. As a matter of honour, I should have refused even to hear it in the first instance. The method by which it was obtained prevents me from disclosing it to others. Furthermore, not only am I ignorant of the lies which have been communicated to Mr. Darcy regarding my character, but I cannot be absolutely certain that the intrigue witnessed by my acquaintance is, in fact, related to the communication of those lies – although given the identity of those involved, I think it highly probable."

"You mean, I suppose," surmised Lord Netherby, looking directly at Elizabeth, "that the actors in this intrigue might have something to gain from Darcy thinking ill of you?"

Elizabeth nodded, almost imperceptibly, and then immediately quickened her pace to rejoin the others, ending their conversation.

"May I have a private word with you, Darcy?" requested Lord Netherby upon finding the master of the house seated alone in the library.

"Certainly you may, Netherby; in fact, I was wishing to speak with you privately, myself."

"About Miss Elizabeth Bennet, perchance?" asked Lord Netherby, seating himself in a comfortable wing chair facing Darcy.

"Yes," said Darcy, gravely. "I wish you to know – and to communicate it to Miss Netherby – that I am in receipt of information regarding Miss Bennet's character, in consequence of which I refuse to admit her into my society. I will not receive her at Pemberley. Consequently, she will not be at the ball this evening."

"Yes, I know. Miss Bennet informed me of it herself."

"You have been to Willowbank? You have spoken with her?"

"Yes, Victoria and I drove over and spent a delightful morning there. Mrs. Bingley invited us to dine there on Saturday, and we were pleased to accept the invitation."

Darcy's expression became severe. "I will not visit Willowbank or allow my sister to call there. I will not permit her to go into the society of… that woman."

"Darcy, I am not going to ask you to provide me with the proof upon which is founded your opinion of Miss Bennet, because, quite frankly, I do not care to sully myself with slander."

"I would not reveal it to you. I have not divulged it to a single soul. I have attempted to avoid disclosing even the fact of her loss of character, except to my guests at Pemberley, to whom I feel some explanation is required. My general acquaintances know only that I have excluded her from my society."

"And thus, is she ostracised from all good society in the district; and in the absence of the particulars of the offences you believe her to have committed, people imagine and invent every manner of immoral deed. How can you treat the woman you once loved with such cruelty, Darcy? I could not have imagined it of you."

Darcy's face reddened. His friend's words cut deeply. He had not considered how his actions must affect Miss Bennet, because he struggled constantly to prevent his thoughts from dwelling upon her. Though he did not wish to discuss her, his curiosity got the better of him. "From whom did you hear the fanciful notion that I once loved her?"

"Why, from you, Darcy! Do you remember nothing of a somewhat drunken conversation at our club last summer? You were just up from Pemberley to take care of some urgent business."

"Last summer? Oh yes, I do remember meeting you at the club – and quite probably drinking too much – most out of character for me, but I am deuced if I can recollect anything concerning what we might have spoken of."

"True love, female beauty, and the most exquisite pair of eyes – all of which, as I recall, you found residing in one particular lady from Hertfordshire, by the name of Elizabeth Bennet," said Lord Netherby provocatively.

Darcy rose abruptly from his chair and walked away from his companion. "If I was so inebriated as to not remember our conversation, then you, too, must have been inebriated – enough, perhaps, to have imagined it all."

Then turning back towards Lord Netherby, he said, "I kindly request you and your sister to observe the conventions of the house while you are my guests. The name of that woman is not to be mentioned under this roof. You are, of course, completely free to visit or dine wherever, and with whomever, you please. I have done my duty as a gentleman in warning you of Miss – err – Mrs. Bingley's sister's character. I would be much obliged if you could communicate the information to Miss Netherby."

Darcy determined to end the conversation by leaving the library. But before he could reach the door, Lord Netherby rose from his chair, and walking quickly after him, he said, "Did it never occur to you, Darcy, that you might have been deliberately misinformed concerning Miss Bennet?"

Darcy stopped and turned. "I cannot imagine why anyone would wish to mislead me. It is entirely inconceivable."

"Really? Can you think of not a single acquaintance who might stand to benefit from her loss of character in your eyes?" asked Lord Netherby, who was now standing face-to-face with Darcy.

Darcy's eyes momentarily widened, as if in recognition, and his face reddened. He took a deep breath, and setting his face in a mask of offended dignity, he said, "There is no one of my acquaintance who would behave in so low and immoral a manner; of that I am quite certain. I have absolute confidence that the report concerning Mrs. Bingley's sister is, most regrettably, entirely accurate."

"And I will continue to believe her to be utterly innocent of these scurrilous lies and think of her – perhaps, in much the same way as you once thought of her, Darcy – before you fell victim to this evil deception."

Darcy's face reddened. Netherby's words had created a doubt which threatened the integrity of the entire edifice of denial he had constructed to block out Elizabeth Bennet. The allusion to the way he had once thought of her stirred up unwanted memories and emotions that he had struggled hard to bury. He must not allow himself to compare that passion and fervour with his feeble feelings for the woman to whom he was now engaged.

Darcy turned again to leave the library and terminate the painful conversation. "Believe what you like, Netherby! If you choose to associate yourself with her, you are a damned fool!"

"One of us is most certainly a fool," said Lord Netherby, shaking his head in resignation as Darcy stormed from the library.

Elizabeth was able to take consolation from Jane's report of the ball. What had promised to be the foremost social event of the season in the neighbourhood had transpired to be a wholly unmemorable and unremarkable event. "The evening, I think, was somewhat of a trial for Mr. Darcy. His mood was sombre and reserved, quite the opposite of what one would expect, considering the occasion it was designed to celebrate. Miss Bingley seemed better pleased than he. Indeed, at times she seemed to forget that she was not yet mistress of Pemberley, and intruded upon Georgiana's obligations and prerogative as hostess."

"And did Georgiana dance the first two with Lord Netherby?" inquired Elizabeth.

"Indeed she did, and he engaged her again for the first set after supper. I must say that she looked very beautiful, and I think she made quite an effort at engaging Lord Netherby's attention."

"And with what success?"

"I believe he paid Georgiana more attention than any other young lady – amongst those that were present at the ball," said Jane meaningfully. "When he danced with me, he commented ruefully upon your absence, and what a great loss it was to the whole company. And he asked me to be sure to give you his best regards – as did Colonel Fitzwilliam. They both sympathised with how you must suffer from your exclusion from society. Although last night, I believe that it was they who suffered the most on that account."

Elizabeth smiled at the compliment.

"I have invited Lord Netherby and his sister to dine with us today," said Jane, "for tomorrow they return to Nottinghamshire. Colonel Fitzwilliam, also, is invited, so you shall not be entirely starved of society."

When their visitors arrived, Elizabeth found herself the object of gallantries from both gentlemen, who swore that Willowbank, and its amiable occupants, gave them far greater pleasure than the previous evening's ball. Elizabeth felt flattered and light-hearted; Mr. Darcy was, for some hours, entirely forgotten. Before they departed, Miss Netherby invited Elizabeth to visit her soon at Fendalton Park.

"We may even be able to arrange a ball in your honour; and I promise you, it shall be a far merrier affair than the one you were unable to attend yesterday," said Victoria, smiling playfully.

Elizabeth wondered whether Miss Netherby's invitation was, perhaps, given in the hope of forwarding a greater intimacy between herself and Lord Netherby, whom Elizabeth suspected might, in fact, be the author of the scheme. And was the allusion to the previous evening's ball at Pemberley, the purpose of which was to celebrate a betrothal, a hint that the proposed ball at Fendalton Park might serve a similar purpose – or at least serve in forwarding one?

"How are you getting on with Lady Catherine's will, Fitzwilliam?" asked Darcy. They were seated in the library on a rainy autumn afternoon. Colonel Fitzwilliam and Darcy were executors of their aunt's will, copies of which had arrived from her solicitor in the morning post. "I have not yet looked at my copy, but I would not expect it to contain anything of an exceptional nature; our dear aunt was such a paragon of punctiliousness and predictability."

Fitzwilliam laughed. "Indeed she was. And, as I recall, very fond of speaking about what would become of her grand estate when she passed away."

"Yes," said Darcy, smiling, "proclaiming how she intended to continue her rule from beyond the grave was one of Lady Catherine's favourite foibles. From what I can remember, pretty much the entire estate passes to Anne. No doubt there must be some small legacies and other gratuities bequeathed to her intimates."

"Yes, I am just coming to that part now," said the colonel, returning to the will. Darcy resumed his book.

"I was not aware that Miss Bingley was acquainted with our aunt," said the colonel, a few minutes later.

"Nor I," said Darcy, looking up. "Whatever gives you the notion that an acquaintance existed?"

"She leaves a legacy of six hundred pounds per annum to Miss Caroline Bingley of Fairfield Gardens in London."

"Indeed! I cannot think how she could have even made our aunt's acquaintance. To the best of my knowledge, Caroline has never visited Rosings Park; in fact, I recall her once troubling me with all manner of questions pertaining to the decorations of the principal rooms."

"Perhaps Miss Bingley and Lady Catherine met in London?" suggested Fitzwilliam. "Our aunt used to go up occasionally."

"I think not," replied Darcy. "But if they had met, it could not have been more than a passing acquaintance of the most casual sort. They can hardly have been on such terms as to occasion a legacy. And had such an acquaintance existed, one or other of them would have mentioned it – and neither did."

"This is rather odd," said the colonel, who had returned to reading the will. "The six hundred pounds is to be paid to Miss Bingley in quarterly instalments of one hundred and fifty pounds."

"Yes, that is somewhat unusual, for such an amount," reflected Darcy. "Anything less than one thousand pounds is customarily paid annually, except where the recipient is a minor."

"Good heavens!" exclaimed Fitzwilliam. "This becomes entirely bizarre!"

"What now?" asked Darcy.

"Read it for yourself!" said Colonel Fitzwilliam, handing the will to his cousin.

"Payment of the legacy to Miss Bingley is to cease upon the marriage of Lady Catherine de Bourgh's nephew, Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley," read Darcy, astonished. "I cannot begin to comprehend the meaning of this! Our aunt was of sound mind, right to the end, was she not?"

"I saw her not three months ago," replied the colonel, "and although she was, by then, very ill, she had lost none of her mental faculties. Perhaps subsequently she suffered some confusion? When was the will made?"

Turning to the final page, Darcy read, "The fifteenth day of October, eighteen hundred and twelve. As I recall, it must be around the time that Lady Catherine asked me if I would agree to serve as one of the executors of her estate, for I was not named an executor in her previous will. In any case, the will was made fully ten months ago, so our aunt was unquestionably in possession of her faculties at the time. It is a pity that Caroline departed only a few days ago for London; I should dearly like to know what light she can shed on this extraordinary legacy. I shall write to her immediately," he said, opening his desk and taking out a sheet of paper.

Colonel Fitzwilliam picked up the will and completed reading it, but encountered nothing else the least bit untoward. He poured himself a port and sat in a comfortable winged armchair, sipping his drink, watching his cousin writing, and searching for an explanation. When Darcy had finally sealed his letter, the colonel asked him, "Tell me, Darcy, was it mere coincidence that you and Miss Bingley announced your engagement barely a week or two after Lady Catherine's death?"

Darcy shook his head. "No. In fact, we have had an understanding for some months. You know, of course, that our aunt wished me to marry Anne. Though I scrupulously avoided giving Lady Catherine the least reason to believe that I desired to marry her daughter, or was ever likely to do so, she clung tenaciously to the ambition. As her health was failing and it seemed that she had not much longer to live, Caroline and I decided to postpone the formal announcement of our betrothal until Lady Catherine was gone, to save causing her unnecessary grief."

"Whose idea was that? Yours or Miss Bingley's?"

"Mine," replied Darcy immediately. Then after a moment's reflection, he corrected himself, "No; now that I cast my mind back, it was Caroline who first suggested it – and of course I readily assented. I remember thinking that it showed a degree of kindness and consideration that I had not previously suspected her to possess – for I understood her to have been eager to marry for some considerable period of time, and would have expected her to wish for the betrothal, if not the marriage, to take place as soon as possible."

"Yet she was happy to postpone the announcement until our aunt had passed away, and in fact suggested it herself," mused the colonel. Then after some moments of silent contemplation, he exclaimed, "By Jove, Darcy, I have it! Lady Catherine's unexpected legacy to Miss Bingley is intended to ensure that she does not marry you! There must have been a secret agreement between them! Our aunt continued to hope that you would marry Anne. But once you were married – to Anne, or to any other woman, for that matter – there would no longer be any purpose in paying Miss Bingley; so the payments were to cease."

"No, Fitzwilliam, that makes no sense at all! Caroline can not be in such desperate need of funds that one hundred and fifty pounds a quarter would be sufficient to persuade her to relinquish her matrimonial ambitions. In any case, once we are married, her financial circumstances will be far superior to what they must presently be – even with the addition of the legacy. Caroline is well aware of my financial situation, and can be in no doubt of my ability to pay for everything she might wish for. Furthermore, if your fanciful explanation were correct, Lady Catherine would have paid Caroline during her lifetime."

"Perhaps she did?" conjectured Fitzwilliam. "The records from our aunt's banker should be here," he said, rising from his chair to peruse the documents from the solicitor that were spread over the table where he had been earlier examining them. "Yes, here are the banker's accounts; let me see if there were any payments to Miss Bingley." After a moment's examination, he found what he was looking for. "Here its is: payments of one hundred and fifty pounds were made to Miss Bingley in October last year, and then again in January, April, and July this year. And there is a note to the effect that one hundred and fifty pounds should be paid from our aunt's account to Miss Bingley, every three months."

Darcy tore open the letter he had sealed only minutes earlier. "I shall demand an explanation from Caroline," said he, quickly adding another half dozen lines before resealing it. "I am most anxious to know what explanation she is able to provide for this most extraordinary arrangement; and why she has never made mention of it. Perhaps her brother, Charles, knows something of the matter – I am impatient to get to the bottom of this, Fitzwilliam, but it would be most awkward for me to go to Willowbank, to raise it with him."

"I am more than happy to undertake the task," said his cousin, who was glad of the opportunity of visiting Willowbank – and its agreeable residents. "I shall ride over first thing tomorrow morning."

When he was shown into the morning room, Colonel Fitzwilliam was pleased to find Charles Bingley seated with the ladies. He was happy to have all three occupants of the house present, as any one of them might have information pertaining to the perplexing enquiry he brought with him from Pemberley.

After exchanging pleasantries and seating himself, the colonel got directly to the matter at hand. "Bingley, are you aware of an acquaintance of any kind between your sister, Caroline, and my aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh?"

Charles thought for a moment before shaking his head. "No, there was none that I know of. What reason can you have for suspecting that such an acquaintance existed?"

"Together with Darcy, I am an executor of Lady Catherine's will, copies of which arrived yesterday from her solicitor. In it, she leaves a legacy to your sister of six hundred pounds per annum to be paid in quarterly amounts, until…"

"How utterly bizarre!" exclaimed Bingley, shaking his head. "Why on earth should Lady Catherine de Bourgh leave a legacy to Caroline – I cannot imagine what the reason might be; I am totally mystified."

"You are about to become more mystified, yet. There is a most peculiar condition attached to this legacy; it shall cease upon the marriage of Fitzwilliam Darcy."

The three listeners gasped in amazement.

"And furthermore," continued Fitzwilliam, "during her lifetime, Lady Catherine paid an amount of one hundred and fifty pounds to Miss Bingley every three months."

Charles and Jane Bingley were stunned into to silence, but not Elizabeth. "When did these payments begin?" she asked.

"The first was made in October last year," replied the colonel. "Why do you ask? Do you know something of the matter, Miss Bennet?"

Elizabeth proceeded to recount to the colonel and Charles Bingley, who was likewise ignorant of the matter, all that Lydia had revealed to her in Longbourn regarding the conversations she had overheard between Miss Bingley and her husband, George Wickham. She concealed only the source of her information and the manner in which it was obtained.

Charles was stunned to hear that his sister was involved in unsavoury and underhanded dealings with a rogue like Wickham.

"I guessed that Caroline Bingley was providing money to Wickham to prevent him revealing information concerning the mysterious letter," said Elizabeth. "The recipient of the letter was, I surmised, Mr. Darcy, and its purpose was to deceive him concerning my character. Miss Bingley was involved in the deception, and Wickham, having learned of it, threatened to reveal its spurious nature to Darcy, unless she provided money to keep him silent. The only part of the intrigue that I could not fathom was how Miss Bingley was able to provide Wickham with so substantial an amount, for she is known to be generally stretched for funds."

"Are you suggesting that Lady Catherine was supplying the money to Miss Bingley?" asked the colonel, flabbergasted. "I simply cannot believe that my aunt would involve herself in so disgraceful an intrigue! Whatever other faults she may have had, Lady Catherine prided herself on being a paragon of Christian virtue. It is unthinkable that she could have associated herself with anything the least bit questionable – let alone so base and deceitful a scheme – and involving the likes of George Wickham!"

"Yet I am almost certain that the money Wickham was receiving from Caroline Bingley came from your aunt," said Elizabeth decidedly. "How else can you explain Lady Catherine's payments to Miss Bingley, and the legacy she left her?"

"I cannot. But, why on earth would my aunt allow herself to get caught up in so odious a stratagem?"

"For the very same reason as Caroline Bingley. They had a common interest in defaming my character. I have no idea of what lies were contained in that letter; but of its purpose I am almost certain – it was to turn Mr. Darcy against me. They both perceived me as an obstacle to their matrimonial ambitions. In Miss Bingley's case, her own; in Lady Catherine's, for her daughter, Anne."

Darcy paced distractedly back and forth along one wall of his library. His cousin, who had just recounted what he had heard at Willowbank, was waiting for him to make a coherent response. But he made none; he just kept pacing back and forth, angrily shaking his head.

"Here, drink this," said Fitzwilliam, handing him a generous glass of brandy. "Your face is as red as a beetroot, Darcy. Please sit down, and try to calm yourself."

Darcy accepted the brandy and the advice, and after draining his glass, he sighed and hung his head in despair.

"Is it true, Darcy, that you received a slanderous letter concerning Miss Bennet?"

"My God, yes, there is such a letter! I received it in October last year. At first I refused to believe it; but there were further letters, from those whose veracity I could not doubt. But now I see how comprehensively I have been duped and deceived – and now it is all too late – how she must utterly loathe me."

Then jumping to his feet, Darcy unlocked his writing desk and removed a bundle of letters, tied together with a black ribbon, and thrust them at his cousin. "Read them!" he exclaimed, fiercely.

Chapter 10 ~ The Letters

Posted on 2010-11-23

It was but an hour or two past midday when Colonel Fitzwilliam found himself once again at Willowbank. When he was shown into the parlour, the three occupants were surprised to see him, but in little doubt of the business to which his second visit of the day must be due.

"My cousin has requested me to come as his emissary. He apologises for not coming himself, but he judged that at least one of the company would prefer not to see him. He requests that I read you the letter to which Miss Bennet alluded this morning. I am sure you will agree that, given its spurious nature, no breach of confidence can be attached to your hearing it."

Upon receiving their assent, Colonel Fitzwilliam continued, "The letter is dated the fourth of October, 1812, and was written by George Wickham."

"George Wickham?" exclaimed Elizabeth in surprise. "It did not occur to me that Mr. Wickham could himself be the letter's author. I thought only that he had come to learn of it. Please continue, Colonel Fitzwilliam."

"Very well," said the colonel.

"'Dear Mr. Darcy,

Being greatly appreciative of the kind pecuniary assistance you rendered by way of assisting me into my recent marriage, I am gratified to find myself in a position of being able to return the favour in some small way, by the provision of some invaluable intelligence.

Please excuse me if I allude to matters which you might wish to remain secret, when I make mention of the prospect of the marriage of a third Miss Bennet – Miss Elizabeth Bennet – to none other than yourself.

Unfortunately, there is no way of stating this with delicacy. To put it as politely as possible: Miss Elizabeth Bennet preceded her younger sister, Miss Lydia Bennet, by some months, in ceasing to be a maiden.

Do you doubt me, Darcy? Of course there is only one way that a gentleman can be absolutely certain in such matters – and the pleasure of that certainty is mine. If you choose not to believe me, you will know the truth to your eternal regret, on your wedding night.

You may well wonder at my desire to enlighten you concerning Miss Bennet's loss of virtue. What reason could there be for my wishing to save you from what, doubtless, would be the greatest disappointment of your life – after all, we are not the best of friends – why would I wish to save you such suffering?

Due to various misfortunes, and much bad luck at the gaming table, I once again find my circumstances to be somewhat distressed, and am hopeful of receiving some small assistance, in appreciation of the exercise of my discretion. I imagine you might be rather anxious to ensure my silence with regard to Miss Bennet.

Even though all thought of marriage to the lady must now be dashed, I imagine that your feelings are such that you would not wish to see Miss Bennet lose her honour in so public and disgraceful a manner. What is my silence worth to you, Darcy? Three thousand pounds is not a great deal for a gentleman of your wealth to save from public disgrace and ignominious scandal, the woman whom once he loved.

You may perhaps even find that, notwithstanding her indiscretion, you still desire the lady. Miss Bennet cannot be entirely blamed for succumbing to the well-practiced wiles of so accomplished a master of the art of seduction as myself. If she can be blamed, it is for being naοve, and foolish enough to believe that we were clandestinely betrothed; and that I truly intended to marry her. She allowed herself to be persuaded that intimacies of the kind we enjoyed were in fact a formal seal of betrothal – which indeed they are at some levels of society – although undoubtedly not amongst those of your elevated rank.

Though marriage to a lady in Miss Bennet's compromised situation can no longer be a consideration, there are other possibilities for a gentleman in your circumstances – she would make you a fine mistress; to that I can most readily attest.

Were you to choose such an arrangement, you would still, I believe, wish me to keep my silence – not to preserve the lady's honour, but rather your own pride. I know you well enough, Darcy, to suppose that you would not wish the world to know that you follow in George Wickham's infamous footsteps.

Yours, etc,
George Wickham'

"I sincerely regret any embarrassment I may have unwillingly caused you," said Colonel Fitzwilliam, noting the ladies blushing deeply, and staring intently at the floor. Even Bingley did not know where to rest his gaze. At length, Jane rang for tea.

"Mr. Darcy will, I am sure, likewise regret the mortification that this letter must cause you, Miss Bennet; but he believed it to be your right to know what falsehoods have been laid at your door – although, he assures me that until today, he has neither shown the letter, nor divulged its odious contents, to a single soul."

"How could he have given credence to such slander?" demanded Elizabeth angrily. "What can have been his comprehension of my character that he would believe me capable of such immoral behaviour? Even were the author of the letter the most reputable of acquaintances, he should have dismissed it immediately as nothing more than a scurrilous slur. But to allow his faith in my respectability to be sunk by the testimony of a man whom he knows to be the most unscrupulous of rogues… is simply beyond comprehension!"

"He did not believe it, Miss Bennet; and indeed he has provided me with a copy of the reply which was sent immediately to Mr. Wickham. If you will allow me, I shall read it.

'Mr. Wickham,

You shall receive not a penny from me. I offer you, instead, my word as a gentleman that should you put about the slanderous falsehoods contained in your repugnant letter, that I shall call you out. You may recall from our younger days that I was more than a match for you with the sword. It will be my pleasure to inflict upon you one final, and well-deserved, defeat.

Fitzwilliam Darcy'

"I think you will agree Miss Bennet, that my cousin's willingness to defend your good name can leave little doubt as to his opinion regarding Wickham's falsehoods."

"How very noble it was of Mr. Darcy to offer to fight for my honour," said Elizabeth scathingly, "when all of his behaviour since that time has demonstrated the total absence of the least shred of faith in it!"

"If I may be permitted to read them, Miss Bennet," said Colonel Fitzwilliam, "there are two further letters, which may explain why my cousin's mind was altered. The first is from Mr. William Collins, the rector of Hunsford; and is dated the fourth of October, 1812.

'My Dear Sir,

Please allow me to humbly acknowledge the great honour with which I find myself blessed in possessing the privilege of offering what I hope to be not an inconsiderable service to your noble and esteemed self. The honour of the above-mentioned service being greatly augmented, I believe, by your near relationship to my esteemed patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh.

Having thus dealt with the joy I feel on the occasion of this fortuitous opportunity of rendering you my service, I feel it incumbent upon myself to warn you that you may be displeased with the intelligence that I feel myself obliged to impart; and I beg that you will not blame me as the bearer of unwelcome tidings. As a diligent clergyman, I would never, for a moment, contemplate shirking that, which I know to be my duty, regardless of how it might harm my own self-interest – although I pray, that as a gentleman of the greatest intelligence, you will perceive that I am acting in what I most assuredly believe to be your best interests.

You are probably aware, although perhaps you are not, of my relationship to Mr. Bennet of Longbourn. Mr. Bennet and I are, in fact, cousins. You cannot be unaware, but perhaps you are, that my wife, Mrs. Collins, is the daughter of Sir William Lucas, a near neighbour of Mr. Bennet.

Thus, although my wife and I reside in Kent – which I am certain you must recall since you graciously deigned to visit our most humble abode at Hunsford on more than one occasion during your stay at Rosings Park last spring – in consequence of the above-mentioned connections existing between ourselves and Longbourn, and thereabouts, we are often recipients of reports from that part of Hertfordshire.

My letter concerns two such reports. I will begin with the latter which, as you will soon comprehend, must be mentioned first. The report reached us only a day ago, and it was to the effect that Miss Elizabeth Bennet of Longbourn was at the point of betrothal, and that the chosen partner of her fate may be reasonably looked up to as one of the most illustrious personages in this land – viz. yourself, most noble sir.

Naturally, I prepared myself to communicate to you the ineffable delight felt by Mrs. Collins and myself on this joyful occasion, and not least because it would be the means of forging a lasting relationship between ourselves, in consequence of Miss Bennet being the daughter of my cousin, which could only be of the greatest benefit to both our families.

My reason for not despatching these joyous felicitations, apart from the fact that news of the official announcement had not yet reached my eager ears, was on account of the earlier report, some months prior, of which I have already made mention, and to which I must now direct my attention. Though it is most exceedingly difficult for me to speak ill of any relative of mine, the excessive loyalty that I feel to my esteemed patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, and by extension to yourself, as her near relative, requires me to divulge information that I assure you, nothing else could prevail upon me to reveal.

You most certainly cannot be ignorant, although perhaps you are, of the infamous elopement of Miss Lydia Bennet with an officer of the Militia by the name of George Wickham. It was a most shameful business indeed! And though it was eventually patched up, and Mr. Wickham prevailed upon to marry the wicked young lady, as a clergyman I cannot approve. This, by the way, is not the earlier report itself, but merely some additional information pertaining to it, that sets the scene – if you will. The earlier report concerns the same gentleman, George Wickham, and an entirely different lady – Miss Elizabeth Bennet. I hope you take my meaning, most noble sir, when I tell you that it is commonplace knowledge, in the vicinity of Meryton, that Miss Elizabeth Bennet is not a respectable lady, which is to say that she is no longer a maiden – viz. she has lost her virtue. I hope you will not think me impudent when I venture to suggest that it would be entirely inappropriate for any gentleman – most especially one of your elevated rank – to have his revered named joined to that of a Jezebel (please excuse my strong language) such as Miss Bennet.

I once again entreat you, noble sir, to bear me not ill will on account of the nature of the intelligence which I have felt obliged by my office, and all that is owing to my esteemed patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, to make known to you.

I remain, dear sir, with respectful compliments to your esteemed aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, and your cousins, Miss Anne de Bourgh and Colonel Fitzwilliam.

William Collins'

"It is worse, even, than one of his sermons," said Colonel Fitzwilliam with a smile.

Elizabeth would indeed have laughed at her cousin's clumsy performance and obsequious grovelling, had it not concerned so serious a matter.

"It is distressing," said Jane, "to witness a clergyman bearing false witness. I wonder what could have induced him to behave in so immoral a manner?"

"His esteemed patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh," said Elizabeth harshly.

"Surely not," pleaded Jane. "Can you truly believe that Lady Catherine would ask a clergyman to commit a sin – to bear false witness?"

"Oh yes, without a doubt! Although our stupid cousin probably believed what he wrote in his letter to be the truth. His claim of receiving a report from Hertfordshire that Mr. Darcy and I were to wed is almost certainly true. He wrote as much in a letter to our father. But as to the second report, though it is inferred, he does not explicitly claim to have received it directly from Hertfordshire. I believe he received it from a much nearer source – Lady Catherine, who doubtless obliged him to write of it to her nephew. The absurd language is clearly Mr. Collins', but the subject matter is unquestionably hers."

"Surely a lady of her rank and position in society could not behave in so unprincipled a manner?" objected Jane.

"Allow me to read the final letter; it may assist you in arriving at the answer to that question," said Colonel Fitzwilliam. "It is from my aunt, and is dated the fifth of October, 1812.

'My Dear Nephew,

A report reached me some days ago that, in all likelihood, you would very soon become engaged to Miss Elizabeth Bennet of Longbourn.

As a consequence of the connections of my rector, Collins, and his wife, with that part of the country, I was made aware of an infamous elopement, some months ago, between Miss Elizabeth Bennet's youngest sister, and none other than George Wickham – who was ultimately prevailed upon to marry the shameful young woman in a patched-up business, at the expense of her father and uncles.

It is my belief that such disgraceful behaviour must very likely be the consequence of bad blood or a faulty education – or both. Be that as it may, when such frailty exists in one sister, it will, in all likelihood, exist in the others.

I pride myself on being a scrupulously fair-minded person, and would not wish to condemn anyone, simply upon the grounds of association. However, you will readily comprehend my anxiety at your making such a match – if the elder Miss Bennet was, in fact, similarly tainted. I therefore engaged the services of a Bow Street officer who, I had been informed, readily undertook private commissions in addition to his police work.

I asked him to make a private investigation into Miss Elizabeth Bennet, and within a very short time I received a report confirming my worst fears. A liaison had taken place earlier in the year between Miss Elizabeth Bennet and George Wickham. The Bow Street officer assured me that the evidence was incontrovertible, and that the liaison was unquestionably of the most shameful nature.

If the reports of your impending engagement to Miss Bennet are true (and I sincerely hope they are not) then I am sorry if I cause you pain. I take comfort, however, in consoling myself that in so doing, I am saving you from far greater suffering, which would plague you your whole life long.

Yours, etc,
Lady Catherine de Bourgh'

"As you may imagine, Darcy is utterly devastated to discover that our aunt, Lady Catherine, has so shamelessly deceived him. We have known her all our lives, and while we found some of her eccentricities of character disagreeable, we never imagined, for a moment, that she would ever behave immorally. On the contrary, she has always placed great emphasis on honesty and integrity."

"Your aunt paid me a visit at Longbourn, only days before these letters were written," said Elizabeth. "Her object was to elicit a promise from me that I would not marry her nephew. I would have refused her impertinent demand regardless of what were my inclinations. Her final angry words were these: 'Very well. I shall now know how to act. Do not imagine 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.'

"Having learnt something of my determined character when she made my acquaintance in Kent, Lady Catherine, I believe, anticipated my refusal, and had matters in hand, ready to be employed, in the likely event that she did not receive the promise she demanded of me."

"What do you mean, Lizzy?" asked Jane. "Surely she had nothing to do with Wickham writing that odious letter to Mr. Darcy; he was simply attempting to obtain three thousand pounds."

"No," said Elizabeth, shaking her head. "It is clear that Lady Catherine orchestrated everything, including Wickham's letter."

"Surely not!" exclaimed Jane.

"Oh, yes!" insisted Elizabeth. "Lady Catherine oversaw the writing of Wickham's letter – and that of Mr. Collins. Lady Catherine was entirely serious, and utterly determined, when she said that she would carry her point. She was obsessed with having Mr. Darcy marry her daughter, who she must have known was not an attractive marriage prospect, except to a gentleman seeking a fortune – something her nephew already possessed.

"I imagine," conjectured Elizabeth, "that she had her spies – perhaps even a Bow Street officer – maintaining a watch for possible competitors. Caroline Bingley's ambitions would very easily have been discovered. And when Lady Catherine determined that I was also a prospective threat to her plans, she cunningly enlisted Caroline's help. She was probably unaware that Lady Catherine knew of her own ambitions, and believed that she must be furthering them by assisting her Ladyship in discrediting me."

"Do you think that Caroline was aware of Lady Catherine's hopes that Mr. Darcy would marry her daughter?" conjectured Jane.

"Certainly – otherwise Lady Catherine's determination to prosecute so extraordinary a deception would have made no sense to Caroline – who, I imagine, was equally intent on discovering competitors. Her keen observation of Mr. Darcy very likely convinced her that Anne de Bourgh was not a serious rival."

"But surely you do not believe that my sister was responsible for the unprincipled stratagem of Wickham writing Darcy that repugnant letter," demanded Bingley.

"No, not for a minute," said Elizabeth shaking her head, decidedly. "It was all Lady Catherine's plan. She undoubtedly determined the content of the letter – although the words are Wickham's. Miss Bingley's part was dealing with George Wickham, and persuading him that Mr. Darcy would willingly pay him three thousand pounds. Lady Catherine, at least, would have been well aware of what her nephew's response would be."

"I wonder if Lady Catherine foresaw that Wickham would demand money to preserve his silence after Darcy refused him?" pondered Bingley.

"I imagine so," replied Elizabeth, "and had Wickham not demanded money, she would have instructed Caroline to offer it – although, doubtless, it was unnecessary."

"What? Why would my aunt wish to pay money to Wickham? Her views on charity were hardly liberal," said Colonel Fitzwilliam.

"To further compromise Caroline Bingley, who was also a threat to Anne," replied Elizabeth. "Lady Catherine would have had no direct dealings with Wickham; it was all done by Caroline. From what Lydia revealed, it seems that Wickham believed that it was Miss Bingley's money that was purchasing his silence. He was almost certainly ignorant of Lady Catherine's involvement in the affair. The provision of a legacy in the will was necessary to ensure that Wickham continued to receive his money, and so remain silent, as long as Mr. Darcy remained unmarried."

"But what I do not understand is how any of this could have prevented my sister from marrying Darcy if he made her an offer," said Bingley.

"Once the scheme was in place, Lady Catherine almost certainly informed your sister that should she become engaged to her nephew, the money for Wickham would stop, and that if Wickham did not himself guess that he'd been duped into discrediting me to Miss Bingley's advantage, then she, Lady Catherine, would ensure that he received the information anonymously. Wickham would become enraged with Miss Bingley, who had not the considerable funds that would be required to mollify him, and thus he would reveal all to Mr. Darcy, ending Caroline's hopes. Even were Mr. Darcy to learn of his aunt's authorship of the whole deception, he would never have forgiven Caroline her complicity. Lady Catherine will have made certain that Caroline was aware that she had it in her power to ruin her marriage plans."

"An excellent piece of deduction, Miss Bennet," said Colonel Fitzwilliam in admiration. "Your powers of reasoning would do a Bow Street officer proud. And though I am mortified to learn that my own aunt was the author of this utterly repugnant and reprehensible deception, I find myself unwillingly marvelling at her cunning and ingenuity."

"Oh, yes, indeed," conceded Elizabeth, "and the final proof of her guile is that even from the grave, she has succeeded in destroying Miss Bingley's hopes."

"Indeed she has," agreed the colonel. "I learned only yesterday from Darcy that he and Miss Bingley have had an understanding for some time; but, at her suggestion, they resolved to postpone the announcement of their engagement until our aunt had passed away. Darcy considered it to be an indication of Miss Bingley's kindness and consideration; whereas she was, in fact, simply playing for time, waiting for Lady Catherine's not unanticipated demise. The betrothal was announced within two weeks of my aunt's passing. Miss Bingley, being aware of the legacy in Lady Catherine's will, knew that she must continue to pay for Wickham's silence until after she is wed."

"But Lady Catherine must have also made Caroline aware that the legacy would end when Mr. Darcy weds. What did she imagine would happen when the payments to Wickham ceased?" asked Jane.

"They would certainly cease," replied Colonel Fitzwilliam, "for it would not be possible for her to continue the payments after she was married, without my cousin becoming aware of it."

"Yes, that is true," agreed Elizabeth. "Caroline most probably assumed – quite rightly, I imagine – that Wickham would not dare to speak against her once she was Mrs. Darcy, for fear of being challenged to a duel of honour."

"And killed," added the colonel. "Miss Bingley thought that by wedding my cousin as soon as our aunt was gone, she would be safe, but Lady Catherine outwitted her. She appointed Darcy as an executor of her will in October last year – at the very time that the deception began. Her intention is manifest – it was to ensure that upon her death, Darcy would immediately learn of the bizarre legacy to Miss Bingley, which would undoubtedly prompt him to check the banker's records and discover the payments that had already been made to her. Even without the benefit of Mrs. Wickham's report, he would very soon have come to suspect a connection between the payments and Wickham's letter, and would realise that Miss Bingley had been involved with Wickham and his aunt in deceiving him."

"Miss Bennet," said Bingley earnestly. "It grieves me beyond measure that a sister of mine could have behaved so despicably – and to the sister of my own wife! I refuse, henceforth, to admit her into my society, or to ever see her again!"

Colonel Fitzwilliam tied the letters together and rose from his chair. "I must return to Pemberley and inform my cousin of the details that have been pieced together concerning our aunt's despicable scheme. I shall be much surprised if he does not dispatch a second letter to Miss Bingley today – to inform her that he is breaking off the engagement. In that part of her scheme, at least, Lady Catherine has triumphed."

"Oh no, Colonel Fitzwilliam," disagreed Elizabeth, vehemently, "Lady Catherine's victory is entirely comprehensive, for she has unquestionably succeeded in both parts of her scheme – it is all exactly as she intended. All that is now wanting is for Mr. Darcy to offer himself to her daughter, Anne, and then her triumph from the grave will be complete."

"Whatever do you mean, Miss Bennet?" remonstrated the colonel. "Mr. Darcy no longer has the least reason to think ill of you."

"But I have every reason to think ill of him!"

Chapter 11 ~ Darcy's Lament

Posted on 2010-11-23

"Indeed, she does have every reason to think ill of me," said Darcy, hanging his head despondently when his cousin arrived at the end of his account of all that had been conjectured and spoken of at Willowbank earlier in the day.

He poured himself a generous brandy before returning to his chair, where he sat staring at the floor. "I shall ride at once to Willowbank and beg her forgiveness."

"If you imagine that she will forgive you so easily, you are mistaken, Darcy. You have offended her pride, and it cannot, I fear, be so quickly – if ever –undone."

"I know it, and I cannot blame her. Yet I must apologise for the pain she has suffered in consequence of my abject stupidity. I deserve nothing less than to be spurned by her, but I must at least be allowed to acknowledge my guilt and state my unreserved contrition."

"She will not see you, Darcy – of that I am certain."

"Then I shall write her a letter," said Darcy, rising from his chair and opening his writing desk. "I shall send it at first light tomorrow. I shall not rest until I have made known to her the depths of my regret."

The following day, as Darcy was sitting in the library with Colonel Fitzwilliam, a servant entered with a letter for him. It was his letter to Miss Bennet – returned, and unopened.

"My suit is hopeless!" said Darcy, shaking his head dejectedly, slumping down in his chair.

"Your suit?" exclaimed his cousin. "Darcy, you cannot seriously be considering paying Miss Bennet your addresses? It is quite unthinkable that she would accept you after the abominable way you have behaved. Can you not see that your exclusion of her from your society has led to all manner of speculation in the district concerning her character; and those who look up to you, while not comprehending your reasons, blindly follow your behaviour, and likewise snub her?"

"Then I shall hold a ball, here, at Pemberley, in Miss Bennet's honour. It will be an unambiguous acknowledgement of fault; that I was mistaken in my reasons for excluding her from my society. It will be understood by all as a statement of my incontrovertible belief in her respectability. I shall ask Miss Bennet to open the ball by dancing the first set with me."

"You are dreaming, Darcy! Miss Bennet will not come to your ball – much less dance with you! Unless I am very much mistaken, she will refuse all invitations to Pemberley, and endeavour to avoid you as assiduously as you have avoided her. And as to your fanciful idea of a suit – how do you imagine you will pay her your addresses if she rejects your society and returns your letters? But, if somehow you found the opportunity, you would be comprehensively refused – of that I am quite certain."

Darcy sat silently slumped in his chair for some minutes before sighing and muttering, "You are right, damn it! She would refuse me as vehemently as she did in Kent."

"What? What is this, Darcy? Do you mean to tell me that you proposed to Miss Bennet when we were at Rosings Park last year?"

Darcy recounted the agonising details of his haughty and maladroit proposal at Hunsford, and the vigour and angry words with which he had been repulsed.

"Good God, Darcy, it is hardly surprising that you were refused. Miss Bennet was quite correct in characterising your behaviour as insulting and un-gentlemanly – quite without the indignation she quite justly felt at your efforts in separating her sister from Bingley. What on earth can you be thinking, to imagine that her opinion of you might have changed – even had your recent behaviour towards her not been so utterly abominable?"

Darcy outlined the content of the letter he had subsequently written to Miss Bennet, enlightening her concerning Wickham's character, and explaining his reasons for believing that the attachment he had severed between her sister and his friend was not a profound one, on either side. He then revealed the details of his unexpected meeting with Miss Bennet in Derbyshire the previous summer.

"So you think by that time she had forgiven you?"

"Yes, although to what degree, I cannot be certain. When I called upon Miss Bennet and her relatives, with my sister and Bingley, at Lambton, she seemed pleased to receive me, and she was entirely charming to Georgiana. It was much the same when she and her aunt returned the courtesy and called upon my sister here, at Pemberley, the following day. Had it not been for her abrupt departure from Derbyshire when she learned of her sister's elopement, I had hopes that she might very soon have consented to be my wife."

"You meant to pay her your addresses again?"

"Indeed I did. I rode to Lambton with that express intention on the morning that the news of the elopement arrived. I have George Wickham to thank for foiling me."

"You were in love with Miss Bennet for a considerable time then, Darcy?"

"And still I am – more than ever. I have been in love with the lady since we were in Kent – no, earlier yet, since I met her in Hertfordshire, two years ago when I stayed with Bingley at Netherfield Park. And though our aunt's letter did finally persuade me of the truth of Wickham's allegations – that she had lost her character – she never lost my affections; they simply refused to die. If I have treated her abominably, it is because of their strength. Knowing – or at least imaging I knew – what I did about her, and the impossibility of ever making her my wife, it was a torment to set eyes upon her; I could not bear to be in the same room as her.

"Thus I absented myself from Hertfordshire last year when the obligations of friendship demanded my presence there in support of Bingley at the time of his marriage. Though I resolutely determined that I must, at the very least, stay some days at Netherfield Park following the wedding ceremony; having stood up with Bingley in the church, upon exiting, I found myself face to face with Miss Bennet across the aisle. The feelings that were unleashed overcame all of my fine resolve – and I fled Hertfordshire like a cowardly cur. You have no idea of the shame I felt.

"And I fled, once more, before Miss Bennet, when she arrived in town last February, to stay with Bingley and her sister. Then in the summer, when Bingley came to Pemberley to ask my advice concerning the purchase of Willowbank, upon learning that it was to be Miss Bennet's home also, I endeavoured by all manner of low, deceitful means to persuade him not to purchase the property – but fortunately I failed. My behaviour was utterly shameful, and for a time, I truly feared that I might be losing the balance of my mind.

"When later, Miss Bennet settled at Willowbank, I found myself utterly incapable of being in her society. Had my feelings been less, though I would have discouraged my sister from associating with her, I would have tolerated Miss Bennet at Pemberley, and visited Willowbank for the sake of my friendship with Bingley. You have no idea, Fitzwilliam, how I have suffered on account of my untameable feelings for that lady. The only remedy I could think of was to marry; surely that, I prayed, must eventually weaken her hold on my heart."

"And well it might, if you were to marry someone for whom you had genuine affection – but Caroline Bingley?"

Darcy shrugged his shoulders. "I knew her to be eager, and while my feelings for Miss Bennet hold me in their thrall, there seems very little likelihood that genuine affection could arise for any other lady."

"Perhaps it might work the other way, Darcy?"

"What? What do you mean?"

"Well, if Miss Bennet were to marry, all your hopes for her must finally die, and your heart might, in time, become free."

"And were you thinking, perhaps, to offer your services in that capacity, Fitzwilliam?" demanded Darcy dangerously.

"Now, Darcy, calm yourself, and think rationally. I would not venture to entertain this proposal if I believed there was the slightest chance for you to prevail upon Miss Bennet with your suit – but surely you must see, there is not. I must own to having been captivated by the young lady since first meeting her in Kent. However, you know of my circumstances, and that I must marry a woman with a substantial purse. Consequently, I guard my heart well; although I will tell you, it has not been easy where Miss Bennet is concerned."

"Then what has changed? I know our aunt left you a nice little annuity in her will, but it is hardly enough for you to live on – certainly not in the style that becomes the son of an earl."

"You are quite correct, it would require me to greatly curtail my expenditures; but, if she would have me, and be content to live in a modest way, I believe I could live quite happily on so small an amount – if my partner in life were Miss Elizabeth Bennet."

"Damn you, Fitzwilliam! Damn you!" exploded Darcy, leaping from his chair and pacing back and forth in a fit of jealous rage. "And do you imagine that you would bring her here, to Pemberley, and parade her beneath my nose? I could not bear it! It would drive me crazy!"

Colonel Fitzwilliam was shocked to see Darcy so utterly discomposed. He had not, until this moment, realised the profound depth of his cousin's feelings for Miss Bennet. They were evidently of a different order than his own. He began to seriously fear for Darcy's wellbeing.

"Calm yourself, Darcy, it was mere speculation. Given the strength of your feelings, and our relationship, I shall withdraw from the field – but I warn you: there may be others who will not."

"Such as Netherby?" snapped Darcy.

"Precisely. Darcy, can you not see that your situation is wholly untenable. If not Lord Netherby, sooner or later some other suitor will find favour with Miss Bennet, and then your torment will be great indeed. You must strive to break the hold of this obsession – for it is nothing less than that: an obsession. Speaking of Lord Netherby, perhaps you might consider his sister, Victoria. She is both charming and intelligent, and would make you a far superior wife to Caroline Bingley."

"It is no good, Fitzwilliam; for the past two years, I have been entirely unable to think of any other lady. But if you hold so high an opinion of Miss Netherby, perhaps you might think of her for yourself. I believe she has a substantial fortune. You would have no need of exercising economies."

"She is indeed an amiable and superior lady; and yes, the notion did cross my mind when she was recently at Pemberley. However, I must confess that my attentions were so diverted by Miss Bennet, whose society, unlike yourself, I was able to enjoy, that I took very little notice of Miss Netherby."

Darcy ruminated silently for some time, shaking his head. Then looking up imploringly at his cousin, he asked, "How can I ever explain to Miss Bennet that high regard in which we all held our aunt, which made it impossible for me to doubt her word – much less believe that she would perjure herself so shamelessly, and conspire to cause others do likewise. Tell me honestly, Fitzwilliam, had you received that letter from Lady Catherine, would you have doubted its veracity?"

The colonel thought for some time before replying. "No, probably not. As a rational man, my good opinions of a young lady, with whom my acquaintance was as circumscribed as yours with Miss Bennet, could hardly have overturned a lifetime's belief in the unimpeachable uprightness of our aunt."

"Exactly!" exclaimed Darcy. "If she would but give me a chance to explain, I might, perhaps, make her see that no rational man, in my place, could have believed otherwise!"

"In the unlikely event of your gaining such an opportunity," cautioned his cousin, "I am not at all certain that such an argument would advance your cause."

"Why ever not? Miss Bennet is highly intelligent."

"She might very well agree with you concerning what a rational man would believe – and yet wonder if one in love might believe otherwise."

Jane and Elizabeth were seated in the morning room, embroidering some tiny garments for Lydia's daughter, Eleanor, of whose birth they had only recently learnt. Hearing the sound of an approaching coach, Elizabeth quickly rose and looked through the window. She feared that having his letter returned, unopened, the day before, Mr. Darcy might come himself, and she did not wish to speak with him. Seeing Georgiana alight from the carriage, she breathed a sigh of relief, but then it occurred to her that she might have been sent by her brother to plead his case.

"It is Miss Darcy," she said, turning towards Jane. "I fear that one or other of us may suffer some embarrassment should the discussion venture on certain subjects."

"Do you wish me to excuse myself from the room on some pretext or other?" asked Jane.

"I sincerely hope it will not come to that – but if it should, I shall give you a glance," replied Elizabeth, returning to her seat as the servant entered to announce Miss Darcy, upon whose entry she immediately stood again, together with Jane, to welcome their visitor.

"How lovely to see you again," said Jane warmly, when they were all of them seated.

Georgiana appeared plainly embarrassed.

Elizabeth attempted to put her at her ease by commenting on how much quieter things must be at Pemberley with all their guests gone.

"Yes, I shall miss the lively company of Miss Netherby and her brother," said Georgiana, but her face immediately coloured as she realised that her listeners might understand her to have intended to imply a preference for the gentleman. To cover her discomfort, she immediately added, "And Miss Bingley is returned to London, to make preparations and purchases for the forthcoming marriage."

"Oh," began Jane, "has your brother not…" but she stopped herself and blushed, realising that Miss Darcy could not be in her brother's confidences regarding recent information.

"You find us industriously at our sewing and embroidery," said Elizabeth quickly, attempting to turn the conversation. "We have much to do, for we learned only yesterday, in a letter from our mother, that we are aunts."

"Congratulations," said Georgiana, before suddenly blushing and looking even more embarrassed. Elizabeth could have kicked herself, for Georgiana, knowing that Mary was only very recently married to Mr. Tiddlington, would have straightaway realised that the mother of the baby must be Lydia – and the father, George Wickham.

"Mrs. Bingley," began Georgiana, endeavouring to regain her composure, "I have come to invite you and Mr. Bingley, and Miss Bennet, also," she said turning nervously towards Elizabeth, evidently feeling some confusion, "to dine with us at Pemberley tomorrow, if you are not otherwise engaged."

There was awkward silence as Jane looked at Elizabeth enquiringly. Elizabeth shook her head minutely, to indicate that she did not wish to be of the party, and then glanced meaningfully towards the door.

"Thank you, Georgiana. Charles and I would be delighted to dine with you," said Jane. Then rising from her seat, she added, "Please excuse me, for I have just this moment remembered some urgent business which requires my immediate attention."

Jane's exit was followed by an awkward silence. At length, Elizabeth expressed her delight at seeing Georgiana again and the happiness she shared with Jane at again receiving her at Willowbank. Elizabeth was most curious to know what explanation her brother had offered for permitting such a visit, or for allowing her to be invited to dine at Pemberley.

"You are doubtless surprised to see me here today," said Georgiana in evident confusion.

Elizabeth smiled encouragingly.

"Miss Bennet, my brother has confessed to me that he has made a terrible mistake, and that, contrary to everything he had previously been led to believe, your character is in every way unimpeachable, and your respectability unquestionable. He is most unhappy and remorseful for allowing himself to be deceived by others, but said it would be too painful to attempt to provide me with any further explanation at the present time. He said only that you are welcome to come to Pemberley at any time, and that I may visit Willowbank as I wish, and to accept invitations to dine here, and on his behalf, as well."

"You must be exceedingly puzzled at this about face, my dear," said Elizabeth sympathetically.

"Indeed I am, although not with the same degree of pain and bewilderment I felt at your previous exclusion, which upset me greatly. Perhaps, in time, my brother will tell me everything – well, not everything, but at least as much as he wishes me to know," said Georgiana wryly. "I know my cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, rode here several times in the last few days, and he is often engaged with by brother, conversing in the library – but they do not confide in me. I know they wish only to protect me; however, I fear that they still consider me a child – but I am not! Do you know what it is all about, Miss Bennet?"

"Indeed I do; but you must realise that it would be improper for me to speak of it."

"Yet it concerns you, most of all," said Georgiana. "It is you who have been wronged by this whole affair. Surely it is your right to present information to a dear friend that clears your name of this surreptitious slander."

"Truly, I sympathise with you, Georgiana, but…."

"Please, Elizabeth. If you are afraid of angering my brother, I think he would be relived at being spared the trouble and discomfort of telling me himself. I do not think he would be angry with you."

"I am fearful of neither his anger nor his disapprobation," replied Elizabeth scornfully. "Since your life, too, has been touched by this affair, and you entreat me so fervently, I shall tell you. However, I must warn you that I may very likely say more than your brother would consider fit for your ears – including information that may well cause you to think ill of a near relative. I am also obliged to mention a name which I know must cause you pain."

"Whose?" asked Georgiana.

"George Wickham's."

"Oh," gasped Georgiana, "I was not aware that you knew anything… of the matter."

"When I was in Kent last year, your brother felt himself obliged to set my opinions straight concerning that gentleman. I must declare myself indebted to him for the service, for I had been grossly misled concerning Mr. Wickham's character. The information imparted by your brother, concerning Mr. Wickham, included the attempted elopement at Ramsgate."

Georgiana turned bright red. Elizabeth, who sat beside her, took her hand and consoled her. "You must not blame yourself for being taken in by so plausible a charlatan, at the tender age of fifteen. I, too, was deceived by him – although not in the same way – and I was twenty years of age. Oh, that I had warned all my acquaintance in Hertfordshire about him, I might have saved my poor sister, Lydia, a great deal of misfortune. You have heard about it, no doubt."

"Yes," whispered Georgiana, looking at the floor. Then looking up imploringly, she said, "Have you told anyone of what my brother revealed?"

"Of the planned elopement? Only Jane, for we are so very close that we must tell the other everything; but you may rely upon her discretion – she will tell not a soul, and neither shall I."

Georgiana smiled gratefully. "Please tell me all that you wish to say, and do not endeavour to spare my sensibilities or feelings, for I am no longer a child – although my brother has yet to make that discovery."

Elizabeth did as she was bid, and by the time she was finished, Georgiana was utterly shocked and silent, simply shaking her head from side to side as if wishing to deny it all, tears escaping from her eyes. Finally she spoke. "It is like the plot of some fantastical novel, which the reader can scarce believe to be credible. It quite shakes one's faith in the world, for it transpires that nothing is at all the way it appeared to be – my aunt, Lady Catherine, most especially. It is as if she were a completely different person from the face she presented to society; I am shocked beyond belief at her evil. But my tears are not for my aunt," said Georgiana, drying her eyes. "They are for you, and all that you have had to suffer, for so long, and so unjustly. How ever have you been able to bear it, dear Elizabeth?"

"By knowing that my sister and brother, and all my near acquaintances, and all of those who continued to come to Willowbank, refused to accept that I could have done wrong."

"And though I was forbidden to see you, I never wavered in my faith in your goodness," said Georgiana earnestly.

"I know, my dear. It brought me great joy when my sister conveyed your message that you unreservedly believed in me."

"I am pleased at one thing; I no longer need dread Miss Bingley becoming my sister," said Georgiana; but then her smile faded. "Knowing how abominably my brother has behaved towards you, how he allowed himself to be persuaded by the lies of our aunt, I must fear that my fondest wish can now never come to pass. Will you ever be able to forgive him, do you think?" entreated Georgiana. "Is it possible?"

Elizabeth shook her head sadly. "I hope, in time, that your brother and I may feel comfortable enough in each other's society that it will no longer be a trial for me to dine at Pemberley, or when he accepts my sister's invitations to dine at Willowbank. Regrettably, for myself, at least, that time is not yet come. I must therefore decline your kind invitation to dine at Pemberley tomorrow."

"Oh," said Georgiana.

"As to the relationship to which you alluded, surely you must see that after all that has passed, it is quite impossible for me. And it is very likely the same for your brother. Indeed, I think it somewhat presumptuous of you to even assume that he would wish for such an intimacy. Although I may, in time, no longer be snubbed by those who look up to your brother, local society – being entirely ignorant of your brother's reasons for having once thought ill of me – may hold lingering suspicions concerning my respectability. Though I shall regain my name, there will always be whispers. That is hardly the kind of social approbation that a man with so keen a sense of honour as your brother would wish to have attached to his wife."

Georgiana looked downcast and forlorn.

"Do not despair," said Elizabeth, taking her hand. "Though we may not be sisters, we can still love each other as well as sisters, and remain always the best of friends. I look forward to seeing much of you when I return from Hertfordshire."

"You are not going away – just when I may again enjoy your society?"

"I think I must. It is best that I leave the neighbourhood for a time, until my feelings and resentment have subsided somewhat. And I wish very much to be in Longbourn with my little niece and my family – most especially my father, who misses me greatly. I travel first to Nottinghamshire, where I am invited to stay at Fendalton Park."

"Fendalton Park?" exclaimed Georgiana, unable to hide her disquiet.

"Yes, Victoria Netherby has invited me to stay, and it is not much out of my way."

"Do you perhaps comprehend something more in her invitation than simply her desire to enjoy your amiable company?" asked Georgiana apprehensively.

"If you are alluding to the possibility that it is her intention to promote a match between her brother and myself, please do not make yourself uneasy. Jane has made mention of your hopes concerning Lord Netherby, and I would never do anything that would stand in the way of your happiness," Elizabeth reassured her.

"No, you misunderstand me," replied Georgiana quickly. "Though I have the highest opinion of Lord Netherby, and am well aware of my brother's aspirations, it was only the distressing prospect of living under the dominion of Caroline Bingley that compelled me to consider marriage. Thankfully, I now find myself free from the threat of that dreadful fate; and thus the idea of marriage, even to Lord Netherby, has quite lost its attraction."

"Are you quite certain?"

"Oh, yes; and I could not leave my dear brother alone now; for he has been so despondent and low in spirits these past few days. Indeed, I shall not think of marriage until he is married – and who can say when that might be? No, my concern at what I suspect to be Miss Netherby's designs is on account of that happy dream in which I once allowed myself to indulge; that you would one day be my sister, and we would all live together so happily at Pemberley. That cherished dream, which was shaken by my brother's inexplicable behaviour to you, and then shattered by his betrothal to Miss Bingley, has sprouted afresh in my heart, now that I learn that the marriage I dreaded is not to be."

"Georgiana, I implore you, please do not dream of that which is impossible."

Fendalton Park was a most agreeable estate. It was considerably larger than Willowbank – on a similar scale to Pemberley. Aside from its beautiful grounds and rose garden, it was renowned for its collection of Grecian vases and statues, and the picture gallery, which contained one of the finest private collections of Renaissance paintings in all of England. Nonetheless, in Elizabeth's estimation at least, neither house nor grounds were quite the equal of Pemberley.

Victoria and Lord Netherby were much relieved to learn that Elizabeth's ostracism at Pemberley, and hence the local society, was ended. However, all she would say by way of explanation was that Mr. Darcy had acknowledged that all his former opinions were entirely wrong, and based upon an iniquitous deception.

"Which, doubtless, was perpetrated with the intention of defaming your character," said Lord Netherby. "Are you aware of the identity of the perpetrators, and what was their motive? I must tell you that I have my suspicions."

"I would prefer not to speak further on the subject," said Elizabeth, looking away and directing her gaze at a beautiful vase.

"No, of course not," replied Miss Netherby, sympathetically.

"We have just received some most surprising news, Miss Bennet," said her brother. "It seems that Darcy has broken off his engagement with Miss Caroline Bingley. Although, perhaps under the circumstances, it is not so very surprising? I suspect that Miss Bingley will not be seeking justice through the courts," he added with the hint of a smile.

Elizabeth remained silent.

"Edward!" admonished his sister, "We will respect Miss Bennet's wishes in the matter."

"But of course, my dear," replied Lord Netherby innocently. "The only surprising thing is that Darcy could have wished to marry the lady at all; I had always thought him to have far better taste," he said, smiling at Elizabeth.

Elizabeth greatly enjoyed her stay at Fendalton Park, and in particular the society of her hostess. Victoria Netherby was considered to be somewhat eccentric; a characteristic which, while tolerated in an older gentleman or lady of wealth, was frowned upon in a young lady – particularly if she wished to find a husband. Although she played the pianoforte and sang beautifully, it was only with the greatest difficulty that her mother, Lady Netherby, could prevail upon her daughter to practice seriously, or to exhibit her talents before guests. Victoria was a voracious reader on every subject, and her great ambition was to write a novel.

"I know I am not beautiful," she confided in Elizabeth one day, "and it may surprise you to learn that it bothers me not in the least."

"How can you say that?" exclaimed Elizabeth. "You are far from plain – everyone must agree that you are a very handsome lady!"

"I do not care what everyone thinks! I decided long ago that I do not need to marry if I do not wish to. I have a fine fortune to live upon, and my dear brother, Edward, will be very happy to have me live all my life here, at Fendalton Park. I must ensure, of course, that he chooses a wife whose society pleases me," said Victoria, smiling pointedly at Elizabeth, who could not mistake her meaning.

"I must warn you, Victoria, that I feel much the same way as you, concerning marriage. Of course, I have no fortune, but luckily I shall always have a home at Willowbank."

"But that is different, Elizabeth. Perhaps you only speak so because you have been disappointed and disillusioned by one gentleman, and thus you have lost faith in the species, generally?"

Elizabeth blushed. Could Lord Netherby have recounted his drunken conversation with Mr Darcy at their London club to his sister? she wondered. Surely not! However, it was evident that he and his sister were very close – and perhaps shared confidences in much the same way as Jane and herself. At the very least, Lord Netherby had probably hinted at his friend's former feelings for herself; and Victoria, being a most astute observer with a penetrating mind, likely suspected that they were returned in some measure.

"You are far too beautiful to hope that you might be left alone, unmarried," said Victoria. "I think that in time, you will overcome your present feelings, and may indeed find love elsewhere."

Elizabeth shook her head sadly. "The first part of what you say is true; I have been disappointed and disillusioned. Consequently, I am resolved to never again place my faith in a gentleman, or my happiness in the hands of another. It is safer and wiser to be alone, and in control of one's destiny… even though it be a mediocre and unpromising one."

"So my brother's hopes are in vain?"

"Do not speak so. Your brother entertains no such hopes; I am certain. He enjoys my company, as I enjoy his; but he is no more in love with me than am I with him."

"No, perhaps he is not in love – or at least not yet; for he has not known you so very long. But I must tell you, I have never before seen him develop so strong a preference for a lady – and upon so brief an acquaintance. I would not be in the least surprised if, in time, he comes to love you. Indeed, I think he is already well on the way; and I sincerely believe that he could make you a very happy woman."

Elizabeth felt distressed. "Victoria, I beg you, please discourage your brother from thinking of me in that way. I like him very much, and I do not wish to disappoint him."

Victoria nodded and sighed in resignation. "I shall do as you request; and if my brother is disheartened, my mother, at least, will be pleased."

"Oh?"

"Mother, as you may imagine, pays careful attention to my brother's preferences with regard to young ladies. She is well aware of his partiality for you. Please do not mistake my meaning, Elizabeth – my mother has the highest regard for you, and were it not for a particular long-cherished wish, I am certain she would be delighted to have you as a daughter."

"You are referring to Miss Darcy, I think?"

"Exactly! Although I was not in need of prompting when I recently invited Miss Darcy to stay at Fendalton Park, I must tell you that I did so expressly at the request my mother. Make no mistake about it, I, too, would be delighted at the match, and to have Georgiana for a sister – almost as delighted as I would be if it were you," said Victoria, smiling affectionately at Elizabeth.

"Lord Netherby, I think, is an independent-minded young man who will marry to please himself," reflected Elizabeth.

"Oh yes, although he would also, I am certain, take into account the feelings of his mother and sister who must share Fendalton Park with the lady of his choice. But you must not believe that his partiality for you is on my account…"

"No, of course," exclaimed Elizabeth, alarmed at the turn of the conversation.

"Is there someone else, perhaps?" asked Victoria.

"I cannot think who you might mean," said Elizabeth blushing and feeling confused.

"I could not fail to notice on the several occasions when we dined at Willowbank that Colonel Fitzwilliam showed a marked attention and gallantry towards you."

Elizabeth smiled and recounted the colonel's comments to her in Kent, concerning the matrimonial constraints under which he found himself.

"I understand that Colonel Fitzwilliam has received a pretty legacy in the will of his aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh. It may not be enough to live upon in the style to which he is accustomed, but it is very likely enough to make do with, if he were determined to marry a lady without fortune," said Victoria meaningfully.

"I was not aware of the legacy; but I must tell you that I have found not the slightest change in his behaviour towards me, which has always been most courteous and amiable. Please believe me when I tell you that my heart is presently unengaged – and I think there is very little likelihood of it ever becoming so."

Looking penetratingly at her guest, Victoria said, "I suspect that your heart is not yet entirely disengaged; although those former feelings of favour presently lie buried beneath stronger emotions of anger, indignation, and resentment."

Elizabeth became so visibly discomposed at her remarks that Victoria immediately regretted them, and sought to turn the conversation. "I am pleased that you have no designs on Colonel Fitzwilliam, for it is entirely possible that I may decide to marry him."

This had the desired effect; Elizabeth was stunned. "Do you expect him to pay you his addresses? Do you love him?"

"No, but I think I very likely could come to love him. He is an intelligent, sensible, well-read man. His opinions all please me, and his character is open, honest, and upright. I have yet to meet a gentleman whom I believe would suit me better. As I told you earlier, I may in all likelihood decide not to marry. However, should I decide in favour of matrimony, Colonel Fitzwilliam would do me very nicely," said Victoria matter-of-factly.

"Do you believe the colonel wishes to marry you?" asked Elizabeth, perplexed.

"No; on the contrary, it is my belief that he does not wish to marry me that makes him so acceptable! Poor Elizabeth, I see that I am causing you some confusion. What first caused me to question the wisdom of marriage was the fear that I would be deceived by an insincere fortune hunter – and believe me, there are many of them about. If Colonel Fitzwilliam appeared eager to court me, then I would naturally suspect him of being one, and suppose that his primary interest was in my fortune; and so consequently I could not consider him."

Elizabeth smiled. "I comprehend your difficulty; it is one that my sisters and I have been spared. However, what I do not understand is that if Colonel Fitzwilliam does not wish to marry you, how do you imagine that you might bring it about?"

"Oh, that may not be altogether too difficult a task. He loves music and is also fond of literature. I intend to ask my brother to invite the colonel to remain as his guest for some weeks after the ball. That will provide ample opportunity for me to determine if he might make me a good husband – and to ascertain the degree to which I am able to engage his attentions – should the time come when I decide in favour of matrimony."

"There is to be a ball?" asked Elizabeth.

"But of course, my dear - did I not promise you one when we were staying in Derbyshire? You must remember! I said it was to make up for – well, let us not speak of him… ah, but I fear we must. You see, I could not avoid inviting Mr. Darcy, since he is such a good friend of my brother. I hope it will not distress you too much."

"Is Mr. Darcy to stay here, at Fendalton Park?" asked Elizabeth apprehensively.

"Naturally, I have invited all the guests who have some distance to travel to stay with us overnight – and longer if they so desire. In her reply, Miss Darcy accepted my special invitation to her to stay on for some weeks as my guest, but her brother, she said, would remain at Fendalton Park but a day or two."

"When is the ball to be held?"

"Ten days from now."

"I imagine I can endure Mr. Darcy's presence at the ball; but I shall leave for Hertfordshire the very next day."

"Elizabeth, no! I will not hear of it! You must not cut short your visit on his account."

"By the day of the ball, I will have enjoyed your kind hospitality far longer than had been my original intention. I am anxious to be at Longbourn and see my little niece."

But for the prospect of the approaching ball – or more to the point, of seeing Mr. Darcy – the remainder of Elizabeth's stay at Fendalton Park might have been most pleasant. Lady Netherby, reassured by her daughter that Elizabeth did not stand in the way of her fond hopes for her son, was noticeably warmer towards her. If Elizabeth caught Lord Netherby on occasion looking at her with something almost akin to wistful longing, his behaviour was otherwise perfectly amiable and charming.

In the evenings, Lord Netherby and Victoria sang, and on occasion prevailed upon Elizabeth to join them. Lord Netherby often read poetry. His taste was excellent, and his reading voice superb. At other times the three young people amused themselves, and Lady Netherby, by reading favourite scenes together from Shakespeare's plays. Elizabeth found reading Juliet to Lord Netherby's fervent rendition of Romeo, both alarming and moving. She was most relieved when it was over.

Elizabeth was delighted at the arrival of Jane and Charles, and also Georgiana and Colonel Fitzwilliam on the day of the ball. She saw nothing of Mr. Darcy, who appeared to be keeping out of her way. Jane and Bingley were to spend two or three days at Fendalton Park before returning to Cheshire, and Elizabeth regretted that she was to leave the next day.

Lord Netherby chose to please himself, rather than his mother, by requesting Elizabeth to open the ball with him. Mr. Darcy did not dare ask her to dance, and in fact, he danced only three sets; one with his sister, one with his hostess, Victoria Netherby, and one with Jane. Still, it was impossible to avoid him entirely, as there was only one set, and in several of the dances partners were changed. Thus did Elizabeth find herself unavoidably dancing with Mr. Darcy for short periods.

She attempted to avert her gaze, but it seemed inexorably to return to his face, and each time he was looking directly at her with a sad, sombre, imploring expression. In one of those moments when their eyes met, Mr. Darcy surprised Elizabeth by addressing her. "Miss Bennet, though I know my behaviour to you has been utterly inexcusable, I beg you to at least allow me to voice my profound and heartfelt remorse." Elizabeth looked away the moment he began speaking, and was greatly relieved that Mr. Darcy was obliged to move on to the next lady.

The second time she found herself dancing with him, Elizabeth managed to keep her gaze averted; however this was insufficient to prevent him from speaking. "I fully comprehend your anger and indignation, but I pray, Miss Bennet, that a day may come when you are able to accept my most sincere and contrite apologies." Luckily, his speech was cut short when he was forced to change partners.

In the third and final encounter, Darcy spoke again, though once more Elizabeth refused to look at him. "I have been given to understand, Miss Bennet, that you are bent on leaving Fendalton Park tomorrow. I can well imagine that your hasty departure, when you have friends just today arrived, must be on account of your wish to avoid me. I deeply regret that I have in the past most unjustly deprived you of the society of others. I am, therefore, resolved to return to Pemberley tomorrow at first light. I earnestly hope that you will consequently amend your plans."

Without looking up, Elizabeth, quite certain that Mr. Darcy must be looking at her, nodded her head slightly in acknowledgement. His gesture was not unfelt, and Elizabeth could not but be touched by the deep sadness and contrition evident in his voice.