Beginning, Previous Section, Section III

Chapter Nine

An air of sombre quietness settled on the residents of Hunsford and Rosings that evening. Darcy, more tired than he thought possible following a day of little physical activity, and unwilling to enter into further discussion with his aunt, kept to his apartments.

In no humour to attend to business, or any other diversion, he retreated to an armchair by the fireplace with a glass of brandy, stared into the flames, and endeavoured to school his thoughts to a more positive vein. This was no easy task - he held between his fingers a handkerchief he had earlier rescued from the efficiency of his valet. It was a perfectly nondescript linen square save for the fact that it contained Elizabeth's dried tears and was, to him, a painful reminder of his own inadequacies. However, he clung to whatever quiet hope he could muster, and looked forward to the day when he might claim a happier keepsake.

Lady Catherine, feeling unequal to an evening spent in the company of her blundering clergyman and his scheming cousin, had sent a curt missive to the parsonage rescinding their invitation to dinner with the oft-used excuse of her daughter's delicate health. Belying that, however, Anne looked remarkably well and had she not been bundled up and banished to her rooms to maintain the charade in front of the servants, she may have been in fine spirits. Her mother and her cousin had had an altercation and she took that to be a very Good Sign.

If Mr Collins had been somewhat dejected following his interview with Mr Darcy, on receiving the short note from Rosings he became positively morose and barely spoke a word all evening. He comforted himself with the thought that Miss Bennet was to leave for London in the morning, hoping that would prevent the situation from becoming any worse. His wife drew no such comfort from dwelling on that event. Her sources of sensible conversation and affectionate companionship were about to depart, and with her husband evidently out of favour with her Ladyship she would be more often in his company. Her solace stemmed from her housekeeping and her hens, and the opportunity to hone her matchmaking skills on unsuspecting parishioners.

Although not made for ill-humour, Elizabeth was not yet ready to laugh at herself and set out to wander the grove in an effort to clear her head. Her sentiments were certainly not what she had always anticipated feeling on entering into a courtship and she mourned the loss of what might have been. Far from feeling a light-hearted optimism, she looked to her time in London in the company of Mr Darcy in the same way one might feel about climbing a very steep incline without knowing whether the view at the top was worth the effort.

She returned to the parsonage in good time for a dinner that was thin of cheer and conversation. Mr Collins made a little effort until an unfortunate remark by Maria, of her being able to boast of only seven dinners at Rosings rather than eight, caused him to lapse into silence once again. Maria was not the most observant of creatures and so did not notice her brother's mood sinking further as she chattered on about how fine Mr Darcy's carriage was likely to be, whether the upholstery would be blue or dove, and if it were likely to be pulled by greys.

Maria found the answers to her questions early the next morning when an impressive coach and four, pulled by a well-matched team of bays, drew up in front of the parsonage. She ran outside to afford herself a better view of its polished splendour. Mr Collins was hard on her heels, intent, it seemed, of getting in the way of Mr Darcy's men, and Charlotte was not far behind him, wishing to spend these last moments in the company of her younger sister.

As Elizabeth joined the ladies, she could not help but roll her eyes at Maria as she stood transfixed in admiration of the carriage, lending only half an ear to Charlotte's goodbyes.

"Is it not fine?" said Maria in a hushed voice as Elizabeth joined her, not moving her gaze from the handsome equipage. "I shall imagine we are very grand ladies today."

Elizabeth laughed. "Aye, until we are let out at Gracechurch Street - that shall quite spoil the illusion."

"Why, Lizzy?"

"I am quite sure no one of any consideration in the world would wish to be seen entering a residence in the City.*"

Maria's only response was to smile and return all her attention to the coach, causing Elizabeth to shake her head and let out a little sigh.

After ascertaining that her husband was too engrossed in giving the footmen unnecessary orders to hear her, Charlotte turned to Elizabeth with a knowing smile. "If that is so, Lizzy, Mr Darcy must have had some particular reason to have offered his escort to that part of town."

"Charlotte…I…"

"I know, I know - 'the less said about Mr Darcy the better' - but let me say this: if there is the least chance of your securing him, do not waste the opportunity."

"Should I ever become engaged to Mr Darcy," Elizabeth said, causing Charlotte to roll her eyes and smile, "you will be the first to know."

Mr Darcy's arrival put an end both to their conversation and Mr Collins' hindering the loading of the carriage. The rector moved to stand awkwardly, off to the side, apparently torn between giving her Ladyship's nephew the attention he deserved and evading his notice.

Mr Darcy greeted all present, making a point of apologising to Mrs Collins for not having properly taken leave the day before, introduced the maid he had brought as chaperone, and made polite conversation until the last of the trunks were loaded. Goodbyes were then made; promises to correspond were asked for and given and before long the carriage and rider were on their way. Their journey was passed quietly and comfortably with no cause for concern. True to his word, Mr Darcy was a constant but unobtrusive presence, and they arrived in London in a little under four hours.

So far from decamping as soon as he had handed them from the carriage - which Elizabeth was almost sure he would do - Mr Darcy, it seemed, was disposed to escort them all the way to her aunt's parlour.

The three weary, dusty travellers were met in the hall by the Gardiners and Jane, who were impatient to see Elizabeth, and she, scarcely out of her bonnet, performed the necessary introductions. She stole several sly glances at Mr Darcy to see how he bore his new acquaintance, expecting the reappearance of the man she met in Hertfordshire, but while he remained reserved he put forth some effort - receiving Mr Gardiner's gratitude with all politeness and entering into conversation with him about the inns and the state of the roads.

She did not fail to notice how often he glanced in her direction, and did not miss the almost wistful look he directed at her as Jane helped her to unbutton her gloves, and, judging by her aunt's raised eyebrows, she was not alone.

As Mrs Gardiner elected to serve a light nuncheon after the girls had refreshed themselves, Elizabeth found herself being shepherded to her room. As they climbed the stairs Elizabeth could hear her uncle's warm tones carry through the hall. "Mr Darcy, will you join me in my study - or would you care for the chance to freshen up first?"

Elizabeth smiled as she undressed and washed away the dust of the road. The cool water helped revive her body and the warmth of her sister and aunt's presence lifted her mood.

Unwilling to share her with the servants, Mrs Gardiner had declared her intention of attending to her personally and was currently occupied in locating a few necessary items from the luggage. Maria was quite done for and in need of a lie down after the excitement of travelling in such a fine carriage. Jane, having seen to her comfort, had entered the room and was now showering her sister with questions about her stay in Kent. Elizabeth's thoughts were not on the conversation and having received too many inattentive answers, Jane apologised.

"I should not plague you when you are fatigued."

"Forgive me. I am tired but that is no excuse for rudeness."

"Do you wish to lie down for a while?"

Smiling, Elizabeth sank onto the stool at the dressing table. "I believe I am able to stay awake for a while longer and if my aunt will dress my hair I shall attempt to rally myself enough to make some dull drawing room conversation - anything more is beyond me at present, I think."

Smiling and shaking her head, Mrs Gardiner began to remove Elizabeth's hairpins. "Dull? Even at your most tired, no one would accuse you of that. Peevish, perhaps, but certainly not dull."

"Thank you, dear Aunt. Peevish indeed! I have not been in your house half an hour and you mock me."

Mrs Gardiner bent and kissed the crown of her head, "It is very bad of me - I apologise. You are in no humour to be teased today."

"In truth I have been both distracted and bad-tempered this last week, at least."

"You are in no hurry to return to the Collins' then?"

Elizabeth smiled. "Some pleasures are best served in small doses." The true source of her agitation was at the forefront of her mind however, and after a moment she asked, "Do you know what my uncle means to say to Mr Darcy?"

Mrs Gardiner arched her brow. "I believe he means to thank him for his conveying you to us safely." Catching her aunt's eye in the mirror, Elizabeth compelled her to elaborate. "And, if he means to winkle out his motivation for doing so, it is not for me to say."

Jane cocked her head to one side. "I believe it very kind of Mr Darcy to offer his carriage and escort."

"It is a degree of attention not normally shown to so slight an acquaintance," said Mrs Gardiner.

Elizabeth looked down. Her eyes fixed on the jumble of hairpins her aunt had just placed on the dressing table and her hand went out automatically to tidy the pile. "I daresay it is, but I would not term our acquaintance 'slight'." She drew out a pin and fingered it for a moment before laying it down straight and adding quietly, "At least not on his side."

Elizabeth ventured a glance at her aunt and was met with a narrow-eyed gaze. Mrs Gardiner began to carefully brush through her hair, avoiding straightening the curls. "I noted his interest in you in the hall - he looked at you with such an expression of fascination. Did he pay you any attention in Kent?"

Elizabeth took another pin from the pile and laid it next to the first, meticulously lining them up. "Yes, I must say he did."

The brushing came to a stop. "But you … Lizzy, you dislike him so! Did you not think that allowing him to escort you may be considered encouragement? Surely you could not be so unkind! Why ever did you accept?"

"I have accepted more than that. He has asked to call on me here. I consented." Looking up, into the mirror, Elizabeth saw reflected Jane and Mrs Gardiner's twin expressions of astonishment. She let out a small, mirthless laugh and continued her row of pins. "Yes, I too was surprised."

Jane shook her head. "It is not such a remarkable thing to think that he admires you - but you … it shocks me that you accepted." She reached over and grasped one of Elizabeth's hands. "You do not look happy, Lizzy."

Elizabeth pressed Jane's hand. "I am not unhappy, as such. It is just that, until he spoke, I was quite content in my blissful ignorance … and now I am a wise fool."** She turned away from her sister's look of mingled concern and confusion, and fixed her attention on the hairpins, carefully straightening the neat line she had laid out.

"If you had rather he had kept quiet, why did you accept?" asked her aunt. Before Elizabeth could form a reply she added, "Do not tell me you have let Mr Wickham's behaviour influence you."

Elizabeth's head shot up and she met her aunt's eyes in the glass. "Mr Wickham? No!"

"He has influenced you - you have often mentioned his name and have been quick to come to his defence. Now, if I did not know you better, I should say he has deserted you for Miss King and her ten thousand pounds and you have followed suit - attaching yourself to the next rich man you meet - and in a fit of pique you have chosen his enemy to best exact revenge."

Jane's mouth fell open in shock. Elizabeth turned around on the stool to face her aunt directly. Placing a hand on her shoulder, Mrs Gardiner continued in gentler tones, "I do not think so very bad of you, truly I do not, but I cannot understand what you are about. This is not like you. To encourage a man you so dislike - a man who has wronged your friend---"

Elizabeth could hear no more. "I no longer call him friend. From what I have been told 'fiend' may be a more appropriate description. He is not a man to be trusted."

Mrs Gardiner searched her face with a serious expression. "Are you certain?"

"Quite, quite certain. He has no one but himself to blame for his misfortunes. Mr Darcy did withhold the living from Mr Wickham - but only after paying him three thousand pounds in lieu of it, as his habits do not recommend him to the church. Mr Wickham has injured Mr Darcy in other ways, despicable ways, but I am not at liberty to reveal them. All his tales of affliction are fabricated to inspire sympathy and, if possible, malign Mr Darcy."

Frowning, Mrs Gardiner nodded her acceptance. "It seems you and Mr Darcy spoke a great deal more than you let on in your letters."

Elizabeth coloured but made no other response. Mrs Gardiner gestured for her to turn back around, picked up some hairpins, scattering Elizabeth's neat row, and holding them between her lips continued dressing her niece's hair.

Jane's delicate brows were knotted as she pondered Elizabeth's words. "Could there not be some misunderstanding? I am sure Mr Wickham could not be so very wicked, Lizzy. Mr Darcy must be mistaken. Mr Wickham's countenance holds such an expression of goodness and gentleness."

"Oh Jane! 'One may smile, and smile, and be a villain.' *** Can you recall a single redeeming action on his part? I cannot. He told me of his woes on so short an acquaintance - he said then that he could not disparage Mr Darcy publicly but as soon as Mr Darcy had left the country he did so without pause. I have been blind to the true nature of both men."

"I can scarcely believe it. I hardly know what to think. Poor Mr Darcy!"

Elizabeth sighed. "Poor Mr Darcy, indeed!" Jane and her aunt's expressions entreated her for further clarification. "Mr Wickham's lies worked well on me. As I thought nothing good of Mr Darcy, I did not consent for him to call straight-away. I do not believe I shall ever forget the turn of his countenance when I attempted to dismiss him out of hand."

"Whatever did you say to him?" asked Jane. "I should feel so very wretched to cause another such pain."

"You would have been proud of me, Jane. To add to my dislike of him, he did not choose his words well and I took them as an insult. However, I replied civilly although I was very far from calm inside."

Mrs Gardiner whipped the pins from her mouth. "He did not suggest anything improper?"

"No! Not at all! He felt it necessary to make some comments on my situation in society and I did not take kindly to it - that is all. He has since apologised."

With a relieved look, her aunt continued dressing her hair. "Your attempt to dismiss him did not succeed?"

She shook her head. "He is not a man to be easily gainsaid." Elizabeth could not resist the tug at the corners of her mouth, and smiled. "Over the course of last week he attempted to change my mind. He convinced me to inform him of the reasons behind my answer and when I did he gave persuasive arguments which put pay to mine. Indeed, he is a good, honourable sort of man and I … I am a wise fool."

"Oh Lizzy! I cannot believe that of you!" said Jane.

"It is quite true, and you may bask in the satisfaction of being correct - you always said he would improve on closer acquaintance."

"You know very well that I could not triumph at your expense. That cannot have been an easy conversation."

"Far from it! I have never been so uncomfortable and confused in my life. And I did not have the sage advice of my aunt or the comfort of my gentle sister! Oh, how I needed you!"

Elizabeth held out one hand to her sister, which was immediately clasped by both of Jane's, with the other she reached up and covered her aunt's, which was squeezing her shoulder. Having unloaded some of her burden, Elizabeth felt her emotions rise, blinked back the tears that were threatening to fall and smiled. "But I have not frightened him away with my irrationality. He is equal parts indomitable and imprudent. He still wishes to call on me."

"Lizzy!" cried Jane, unable to keep from smiling a little.

"And I, being the mercenary, ambitious creature that I am, have consented. We shall make quite a pair, shall we not?"

"Lizzy, be serious!" Mrs Gardiner resumed pinning her hair. "I know you are nothing of the sort. Why have you truly accepted?"

Elizabeth's smile faltered. If their meagre dowries were not reason enough to be practical, her stay in Kent had not improved relations between their family and Mr Collins. Although it was through no fault of her own, he was seriously displeased with her and the future of the Bennet women had been made even more uncertain. But this she would keep to herself. It would do no good to dwell on it and would only cause her relations undue concern. "I am not likely to receive a better offer and one of us ought to marry well."

Jane frowned. "That seems so … do you give no thought to love?"

"Is that not his reason for calling on me? To allow me an opportunity to know him and come to love him? I will not marry Mr Darcy if I cannot love him but apparently he loves me - so we are half way towards a love match. It seemed rather wasteful to disregard it."

"And what have you told Mr Darcy?" asked her aunt.

"He knows my feelings. He knows I no longer dislike him but I have not pretended to feel more than I do. Mr Darcy is very well aware my heart is not engaged."

Mrs Gardiner nodded her approval as she set a stubborn curl. "Good girl."

Jane squeezed the hand she had not yet relinquished. "But do you think he will succeed in winning your heart?"

"I do not know. He is a good man - honourable, clever, even witty at times - I am willing to try." She passed the last of the hairpins up to her aunt. "There are two things very much in his favour."

"What are those?" asked Mrs Gardiner. "Financial security and a handsome face?"

"No," said Elizabeth, arching her eyebrow, "He usually gets his own way and can be very persuasive."

When the three ladies returned downstairs a little while later, Mr Gardiner and Mr Darcy were awaiting them in the parlour. Whatever the content of their interview, it had apparently not been of long duration and one glance at the two gentlemen assured Elizabeth that it had not been in any way unfriendly. Mr Darcy even seemed to be a little more relaxed - which was no wonder as her uncle was generally held to possess a contagious good humour.

"Margaret," said Mr Gardiner, to his wife, with a smile, as soon as they had all sat down, "I have found a fellow angler."

"I am pleased for you, my dear - and for myself, I might add. Anglers are not common amongst our London acquaintance, Mr Darcy."

Mr Darcy raised his brow, "Your husband would have me believe your feelings to be the opposite, ma'am."

"And well he might, but I am pleased. I am not averse to his talking of fish - as long as said conversation is not directed at me. If you have listened to his talk of rods and lines and for once spared me the necessity - I am very well pleased indeed!"

Mr Darcy smiled by way of response.

"Uncle," said Elizabeth, "it is rather impolitic to introduce a topic that the greater part of the room can take no pleasure in. Take care or we ladies shall begin to compare the respective merits of sprigged and figured muslin."

"Oh ho! A threat indeed! But I shall not put you to such trouble." Turning to his wife he continued, "I have been telling Mr Darcy that you too hail from Derbyshire."

Mrs Gardiner smiled. "Now there is a subject I can enjoy!"

As they partook of the refreshments, they discussed various Derbyshire landmarks, comparing them with scenery of counties with which the girls were familiar. But Elizabeth could not relax, however pleasant the conversation. She had not forgotten the manner of Mr Darcy's proposal - his words still rang fresh in her ears - and he was now taking tea with her 'inferior connections'.

Mr and Mrs Gardiner carried the conversation, as they knew the county well and were more talkative than Mr Darcy. While Elizabeth was attentive to the discussion she added little to it, but she was ready to turn the subject should she have need. Not that her aunt and uncle's performance could concern her - they displayed their intelligence, taste and manners at every turn - but that Mr Darcy may misinterpret their meaning and take, or cause, offence.

She let out a sigh of relief when Mr Darcy took his leave, only to hold her breath when Mrs Gardiner asked if he would return for dinner.

"Unfortunately, I cannot." Mr Darcy looked over to where Elizabeth and Jane were seated close together. "I too have a sister desirous for my return. I have not seen her in many weeks, and she will likely have gone to some trouble preparing for tonight."

"Ah! We quite understand. Perhaps another night? Would Tuesday evening suit? And of course, the invitation extends to your sister."

Elizabeth could not believe that he meant to accept and seeming to corroborate this, Mr Darcy hesitated to answer. To pay a social call in the City was lowering enough, but to dine here? Would he countenance bringing his sister to the house of a tradesman? Knowing his tendency toward frankness and not wanting him to insult her relations she arched her eyebrow and offered him a way out. "If you have another engagement sir, we will not press you."

"I do not - as far as I am aware." Turning toward the Gardiners he added, "My sister is not yet out."

Mrs Gardiner smiled. "If you wish to bring her she is very welcome to attend. It will be but a small family dinner as Miss Lucas herself is yet to be presented."

To Elizabeth's surprise, Mr Darcy replied that they would be honoured to accept. He wished them all a good day, received their goodbyes in response, then approached Elizabeth and bowed over her hand.

"Until Tuesday then, sir."

He flashed her a smile. "No."

"No?"

"No. If you remember, you gave your consent for me to call and I mean to do so on Monday." Looking toward Mrs Gardiner, he added, "If that meets with your approval, ma'am."

Elizabeth had been looking forward to spending a good few days in the company of her aunt and uncle and Jane, without any thoughts of prudence, rich suitors, or her own stupidity crossing her mind, and had depended on him calling later in the week. Judging by his past behaviour - and the fact that Mr Darcy had not been forward in seeking out her company to date - she had entertained the hope that he would be in no hurry to return to Gracechurch Street.

"So soon." Unaware of having spoken aloud, Elizabeth was surprised to face varying degrees of frown on the faces of the other occupants of the room, and blushed fiercely.

Mrs Gardiner recovered quickly. "Of course, Mr Darcy, we shall look forward to receiving you."

"I thank you, ma'am. You are too kind."

With one parting look at Elizabeth, Mr Darcy turned and headed for the door. Elizabeth, her cheeks still pink, declared her intention of showing him out.

She could say nothing in front of the footman and so, when John had helped Mr Darcy into his greatcoat, she dismissed him. She collected Mr Darcy's gloves from the side table and handed them to him, meaning to make her apology - but he spoke before she was able to, saying dryly, "Your enthusiasm to see me leave is almost equalled by your reluctance for my return."

Unable to meet the expression in his eyes, she watched his hands for a moment as he yanked on his gloves, and she was overcome with a sense of misgiving. He had proclaimed ardent feelings for her and she bore some responsibility, albeit unlooked for, to avoid paining him. No matter how carefully she trod over the coming weeks, he was bound to be hurt.

Elizabeth shook her head. "I am sorry. I ought not to have said it."

"It was your honest opinion. If my company is so undesirable I can only have myself to blame. I shall have to make a more fervent endeavour to apply myself."

"That is not…I…I simply thought I would have more time."

Dragging his hand down his face, he sighed. "Forgive me. I ought not to rush you."

"You are too kind: You have no need to apologise. It is I who have lost my manners somewhere along the road from Kent."

Darcy studied her face for a moment. "You should be resting."

His tone was one of admonition, rather than concern, and Elizabeth bristled and fought the urge to roll her eyes.

"We are neither of us at our best," he said quickly. "I have no desire to pressure you or make you uncomfortable."

"I know you do not, sir. Call on Monday - I will receive you with more graciousness than I have shown today." She handed him his hat and smiled archly. "I shall take comfort in the fact that I have a day's grace."

He gave her the slightest of smiles in response then put on his hat and adjusted it in the mirror. "I have other business tomorrow." On seeing her questioning look he added, "Mr Bingley," earning him a radiant smile from Elizabeth. Darcy's breath caught in his throat at the sight and it was a moment before he frowned and said, "I cannot vouch for his response."

"I know," she said, still smiling brightly, "but I thank you all the same."

The two sisters had no opportunity for intimate conversation that day and so once the family had retired for the evening, Jane made her way to Elizabeth's room.

They each brushed out the other's hair, spoke of everything and nothing and generally enjoyed their shared intimacy, which they had missed these past weeks.

Elizabeth had not introduced Mr Darcy into their discussions - and her sister, not wishing to pry, had not enquired - but when she had settled herself between the sheets she mentioned him.

"If we are to be more in his company - it may throw us in the way of Mr Bingley."

Jane sat on the edge of the bed, looking at her hands folded neatly in her lap. "I confess," she replied in a quiet voice, "I had thought of that."

"And what thoughts crossed your mind?"

Jane looked up and met Elizabeth's eyes for a moment, before returning her attention to her hands, "It may perhaps be a little awkward at first, but do not worry on my account. I shall learn to accept it and come to think of him as any another gentleman of my acquaintance." She smoothed the flounce of her dressing gown so it lay more perfectly across her lap. "I am glad, though, that we are in London. If we were at home I do not know that I could bear the unfounded speculation."

Ignoring Jane's attempt to put an end to her own conjectures, Elizabeth pressed on. "What if he were to renew his addresses?"

"Oh, Lizzy! Do not tease me with vain hopes. Mr Bingley was never…I am resolved to think no more of him."

"But if he were to, would you welcome them?"

Jane stiffened and gave her younger sister an almost reproachful look. "Please, Lizzy!" Elizabeth leaned forward and took her hand. "It is very hard…"

Elizabeth remained silent waiting until Jane was ready to speak. "It seems Mr Darcy and I were too busy falling in love, during the time the gentlemen were in Hertfordshire, to realise that the objects of our affections felt nothing for us in return. I have thought for some time that everyone was mistaken as to Mr Bingley's intentions. He was kind and amiable - but if you think on it, he showed no true preference for me."

"I have thought on it and I do not agree at all. I believe that if you are especially kind and amiable toward him he will likely fall in love with you all over again."

Jane gave her a sad smile. "It is in Mr Darcy's power, as a man, to pursue you, but it is not in mine to pursue Mr Bingley. And nor would I, if I could. If he is content without me, who am I to determine he would be happier with me?"

"And what of your happiness?"

"I would rather think on his."

"You, dear sister, are far too good." Elizabeth was unable to suppress a loud, and rather unladylike, yawn.

"And you, dear Lizzy, are far too tired". Jane rose from the bed and tucked the sheets around Elizabeth. "Why ever you refused to rest today is beyond me, but I shall not keep you awake any longer." She bent and kissed her forehead, they bid each other good night, and then Jane retired to her room.

Elizabeth's thoughts kept her awake a little longer. Jane and Bingley seemed such similar creatures - neither wishing to impose on the other. She could only hope that Mr Darcy would be able to inspire Mr Bingley and that his impulsiveness would overtake his modesty.

* The 'City' is the area in London where the banks and businesses are located & where the 'Cits' (members of the middle or merchant class, often derogatory) resided. Gracechurch Street is in the heart of the City.

** Paraphrasing the end of a poem by Thomas Gray, "where ignorance is bliss,
'Tis folly to be wise."

*** From Shakespeare's Hamlet.

Chapter Ten

Posted on 2012-06-29

The first person to welcome Darcy home was not his sister, but his cousin. The Colonel met him in the hall just as he had shed his greatcoat.

"You are arrived, finally."

"Good-day, Fitzwilliam." His voice sounded tired, even to his own ears.

"What rip were you riding that you are so very far behind your coach?"

Darcy cast him an eloquent look that spoke of his views on inferior horseflesh.

"Well I had it from Gibson that you were not on Ody, so what was I to think?"

"Must you interrogate my servants for your own amusement?"

"Ha! Must you pay them so much that they say nothing of any import? I was looking for your groom to ascertain your whereabouts and your man simply told me that Hobbs remains in Kent with Ody. Lamed him have you?"

"Certainly not. Odysseus is perfectly sound."

Light footsteps were heard on the marble floor, and a soft voice cried, "Brother!"

Georgiana flew to Darcy and embraced him warmly. He wrapped his arms around her, pressed his lips to the top of her head, and said, "How I have missed you!" Then holding her at arms length to search her face he asked, "You are well? You look very well - you have grown again, I think."

"A little - a very little - but any more and my skirts shall need letting down again."

"She," said the Colonel, "was almost ready to send out a search party."

Georgiana blushed and haltingly denied it.

"I am sorry to have worried you," Darcy said seriously then, smiling, continued, "perhaps my men would have been more forthcoming if our cousin had not harassed them. I have escorted Miss Bennet and Miss Lucas to London, and stayed a while at Miss Bennet's uncle's home. You will remember them from my letters."

Darcy risked a glance at Colonel Fitzwilliam - he wore such a look that Darcy knew he would be subjected to a round of questioning. Georgiana asked after the health of those ladies, and then that of her aunt and cousin in Kent and they spoke for a little while on inconsequential matters.

"I am so very glad you are returned." Georgiana said at last, "I have ever so many things to tell you and show you."

"Allow me some time to change and I am at your disposal."

If Darcy thought he had been granted a reprieve from his cousin's questioning, he was mistaken. The Colonel followed him to his room, made himself comfortable in one of Darcy's armchairs and availed himself of the food and drink that had been brought in for his cousin. They spoke on commonplace matters while Gibson attended his master but on the valet's leaving the room to see to Darcy's bath, the Colonel said, "How was the remainder of your stay in Kent? What did I miss?"

Darcy's expression revealed nothing. "Remind me to never again stay at Rosings without your chaperonage."

The Colonel looked disappointed for a moment - Darcy knew this was not what he was hoping for - then a calculating gleam came into his eye. "Care to return the favour?"

"If it is within my power."

"Dearest Mater has instructed me to invite you to one of her dinners."

Darcy needed no other information. Lady Matlock's dinners were designed to display her unmarried relations to best advantage to the most eligible partis the ton had to offer.

"The more targets," the Colonel continued, "the more confused the enemy."

Darcy smiled wryly and shook his head. "When is it to be?"

"Tuesday."

"Georgiana and I," Darcy said as his smile broadened, "dine in Gracechurch Street on Tuesday."

"You plan to take Georgiana to dine with Cits?" Fitzwilliam was incredulous.

"I am quite certain she will survive the experience." He took a mouthful of coffee. "I mentioned to Mrs Gardiner that Georgiana is not yet out and she promised a small family party."

"Oh," replied the Colonel, refilling his plate, "how you must have disappointed her!"

"How so?"

"To have been denied the opportunity of parading you in front of twenty or thirty or so of her Dearest Friends! She will have to content herself with placing your card in pride of place - tucked into the frame of the parlour mirror - so that all and sundry can see the Distinguished Company they keep," the Colonel replied. "You will eat well for certain." He said gesturing with a piece of game pie, "I can see it now, your hostess will humbly apologise for her inferior spread, as you 'must be used to the very best and employ three French cooks, at least'. You, (having been worried that the table will give way under the weight of so many courses), will reply, 'Not at all madam, I have never seen the like.' and she will be content knowing she can boast that she sets a better table than the Master of Pemberley. You will then be left with Mr Gardiner, who will valiantly attempt not to talk shop, but will be unable to resist when you compliment his port, offering you a substantial discount if you buy two dozen bottles as you are," he winked theatrically, "such a Great Friend of the family."

"Enough, I beg you! They are not that sort."

The Colonel gave a smile, "For your sake I hope they are not. Once that sort latch on they are damnably hard to shake off."

"I am as certain as I can be from so short an acquaintance," replied Darcy. "They knew full well who I was - indeed Mrs Gardiner originated from Lambton - but, although they acknowledged our mutual connection to that part of Derbyshire, they insinuated nothing further. There was no ingratiation, no vulgarity; I found them well-mannered and engaging."

"Engaging indeed if you stayed so long! But perhaps that was due to another quarter, eh? To think I had blamed your delay on an old nag when you were more pleasantly occupied!"

Darcy smiled but it was more in the way of a grimace. The Gardiner's reception had been all that was friendly; Elizabeth had not been as welcoming. Her smiles had been for her family and for his promise to speak to Bingley - not for him. He sighed; he had only himself to blame.

"Am I wrong in presuming you have made some progress with the lady - you brought her home, and are to dine?" When Darcy was silent for a moment more, Fitzwilliam continued impatiently, "I only came here today to see how you fared! Am I to know any more or are you determined to be cruel? This is like reading the first volume of a riveting novel then being denied the other two."

"It is more a serial in a magazine. The rest has not yet been written."

"Something must have happened since I left Kent."

"This is not some work of fiction; I shall not break her confidence merely to satisfy your curiosity."

Fitzwilliam sighed mournfully and took another piece of pie. Darcy did not quite trust the look in his eye.

"If we were not to see your sister," said the Colonel, "I'd try the brandy trick again." After a moment he asked, "May I ask you just one or two questions to set my mind at ease?"

"You may ask but I may not answer."

He rolled his eyes. "Has she accepted a courtship?"

"She has."

Fitzwilliam nodded. "Good man! She has not, I sincerely hope, confessed that she has come to feel a strong, undying love for you in this last week?"

"She has not, nor would I have believed it if she had."

"Good, good," he replied, then smiled widely. "Just one more question so I may sleep well tonight: Did she confess her undying love for me?"

Darcy fairly growled the answer.

There was a scratch at the door and Darcy's valet entered to say all was ready for his master's bath.

"Gibson!" cried the Colonel, "How came you to tell me Ody is lame when my cousin swears he is sound?"

"I am sure I could not say, sir."

"Or, more truthfully, will not."

"As you say, sir."

"Leave Gibson be." interposed Darcy, "He will hardly break my confidence in my presence."

"Or out of it, sir!"

"Just so, Gibson. I did not doubt you." Darcy rose from his chair and said to the Colonel, "It is nothing more than that little trick he has of feigning lameness when someone other than Hobbs or I ride him. Lady Catherine, in a ploy to keep me at Rosings for the day, had her groom somehow outwit mine, and ride him out. So Odysseus is 'lame' and Hobbs, wishing to return to my favour, was more than willing to act out the part."

He was not about to admit to Fitzwilliam that his agitated state of mind when he had last ridden Odysseus had been adopted by the horse, causing him to spook at goodness knows what. Darcy had walked him back the short way to the stables, judging himself too distracted to ride safely, and Odysseus' 'lameness' had been given increased credibility.

"But why is Hobbs to remain in Kent?"

"Because that is where I wish him to be."

Fitzwilliam muttered something, but Darcy did not catch the words, then said, "What manner of beast did you ride?"

"Farmer Poggit's bay." Darcy said with a smile. They had visited the horse breeder during their stay and the gelding had greatly impressed them both. "I think I might purchase him."

Fitzwilliam made a noise that can only be attributed to jealousy. Darcy left to bathe.

Late on Monday morning, as the ladies were sat in the parlour, a bustle in the hall signalled the arrival of callers. Jane took Elizabeth's hand, in a gesture of support. Mrs Gardiner smiled her support too, but also gave her a significant glance. She wanted no repeat of Elizabeth's lapse of manners on Saturday. She had made it quite clear; no guest in her house was to be made to feel unwelcome.

The servant entered and into Mrs Gardiner's hands were placed the cards of both Mr Darcy and Mr Bingley. Elizabeth squeezed the hand that still held her own and looked to Jane. She had paled and was attempting to remain composed. She looked at Elizabeth questioningly.

Elizabeth, in an urgent whisper, said, "I knew Mr Darcy was to call on him yesterday - but, dearest, I did not know he would bring him."

When the gentlemen were shown in, Jane's colour returned twofold. With a final squeeze, from which both sisters drew and gave comfort, they gave up each other's hands to make their curtsies.

Both gentlemen were dressed handsomely; they had shed their country garb and donned the fineries of Town. Elizabeth thought Darcy was the more elegant, he looked exactly as though he had stepped from a fashion plate and not a bit like any suitor she had ever dreamed for herself. Her imagination had run to county squires and military or naval officers, but never a fine London gentleman. She refused to think of her own reworked gown whose like had not been seen in La Belle Assembly for perhaps two years. She would not be intimidated.

The necessary introductions were made, Mr Darcy played the suitor well, said all he ought to Mrs Gardiner and Jane before bowing handsomely over her hand. Mr Bingley pressed Jane's hand with a warm smile and then shook Elizabeth's, all the while looking at her with an expression bordering on wonder, which made her desirous to discover what Mr Darcy had disclosed to him. After Mr Bingley had expressed his delight in renewing the acquaintance (his smile taking on a more embarrassed quality as he gave them to understand, in a few words, that he had not before known of their being in London) they chose their seats.

Jane, Mrs Gardiner and Mr Bingley made one small group, and Elizabeth and Darcy sat on the other side of the room; she had more than one reason to require a little privacy and Darcy was quite willing to oblige her.

As Darcy's visit was expected, refreshments had been ready to be brought in and almost as soon as she sat down, Elizabeth was up again to help her aunt and fetch tea and plates of little cakes for both of them.

"How is your sister?" she asked as she resumed her seat. "Was she very pleased to have you to herself again?"

"I believe so. She had arranged all my favourites at dinner, played new pieces she thought I would like (which I did) and had embroidered some new slippers for me."

She raised an eyebrow. "It seems you were quite spoilt."

"Perhaps," he said with a smile, "but no one minds that."

He told her a little more about their reunion and that he had told his sister all about her. Elizabeth coloured and could only imagine what things had been said.

"She very much wishes to meet you."

"That is an easy enough wish to grant. She is to dine here tomorrow, is she not?"

He nodded and then said no more. They seemed about to descend into that awkward silence that had heretofore crippled their conversations. Elizabeth was determined to be gracious; to make more effort in conversation with him than she had done in the past. Too often she had refused to speak waiting for him to find a topic of conversation as a sort of punishment, when on reflection she had been the one to suffer.

"Some friends of Miss Lucas have spirited her away to shop with them." She looked toward where Jane had paused in her sewing and was answering some query of Mr Bingley with soft words and a gentle smile. "I could not go, of course, but my sister had thought of joining her. I am glad she did not. I would attribute her being here to luck, but we did not wish to spend our day apart. We have been together only a handful of days this year."

Elizabeth turned back to Darcy, and noticed he seemed to be studying her sister and his friend. She had not forgotten who was responsible for Mr Bingley's presence. "Thank you," she whispered, "I hoped he would come."

He had nothing to say, but he was evidently uncomfortable with her thanks so she changed the topic of conversation, saying quietly, "I should tell you, I think, what I have revealed to my aunt and sister. I felt I ought to confide in them to some extent, at least. I said only that you wished to call on me and after some reluctance on my part I accepted, nothing more. Oh! - and I told them of Mr Wickham but only in the most general of terms. Miss Lucas knows nothing."

Darcy merely nodded. She could feel the beginnings of frustration come over her. He was so very quiet and she was desirous of finding out several things from him. There was awkwardness in asking such a taciturn man for confidences, but she must know. After a little hesitation she asked, "Will you share what you told my Uncle?"

"It was very similar to what you shared with your aunt and sister."

She let out the breath she had been holding. "How fortuitous!"

"I hope it was enough to quieten Mr Gardiner's concerns - your cousin will be the last of your relations to doubt my intentions."

Though she would dearly love to ask exactly what he had said to Mr Collins, the sneer on his face as he mentioned him made her think better of it. It was quite clear to her that he had acquitted himself, and defended his honour. It was not necessary to know all of the details.

She happened to look up then and caught Mr Bingley looking at her in wonderment again. Her curiosity demanded satisfaction. "May I ask what you said to Mr Bingley? I do not ask you to betray his confidence - he is here, that is enough - I just ask what you revealed to him."

"I confessed all to him," he replied.

Elizabeth nodded slowly. That, she supposed, explained why Mr Bingley looked at her as though she was some sort of curiosity.

"Nothing less," continued Darcy, "would have showed him how absurd were my prior interferences and how little my advice from then was to be relied upon."

"Knowledge of my sister's feelings alone, would not have convinced him to visit?"

"I did not reveal them. I did not wish him to presume too much. I told him only that I was no judge of a woman's thoughts or feelings, and that that is particularly true for any named Bennet. Any more than that he can find out for himself." He looked toward Bingley and Jane for a long moment. "I was not about to tell him anything I had not seen for myself."

"You did not believe me?"

"I did. I do. You told me that her heart was touched last year, but you had not seen her in many months, and certainly not in my friend's company - her feelings may have changed."

She was sure her sister's heart remained constant - that Mr Bingley could hope as much as he chose! How much easier Mr Bingley would be if he knew Jane's heart - how much swifter their reconciliation. She forgot, in that moment, that, as Mr Darcy had held back from Mr Bingley, she had not disclosed all to Jane and allowed her irritation to show.

Darcy met her eye and said, "I was not about to give him false hope."

It was a reasonable answer but Jane had suffered too long for Elizabeth to admit it. She frowned.

Darcy took a sip of tea, then changed the subject, "What has happened since I saw you last? How did you spend your 'day's grace'?"

Elizabeth coloured at the reminder of her words when they had last parted, but his manner was almost teasing and not at all censorious. She answered and the visit did not last much longer than the time it took to exhaust this topic.

The gentlemen made their goodbyes, Darcy's invitation to dine the next day was confirmed and Bingley was invited to join them, which he accepted readily, and then they were gone.

Elizabeth had not known what to expect from Darcy's call, but perhaps she had thought to see him be less quiet and more attentive. His only courtly behaviour had been his bowing over her hand at his arrival and departure, and a smile or two. She dearly felt the need for a good long walk in fresh air surrounded by greenery. But as this was something impossible to be had in London, she simply took a seat next to Jane and took her hand again.

Later that afternoon, Colonel Fitzwilliam's mother paid a call at Darcy's townhouse. Darcy had sent his cards to his relations and friends, to let them know he was in town only that morning and he was surprised to receive a visit so soon.

She asked, as was polite, how he had found her sister-in-law and niece, getting these niceties over with as quickly as possible so that she could introduce the true reason for her visit.

"I am quite put out with you," she said, attempting to glower over her teacup, but unable to rid her eyes of their sparkle, "I heard this morning that you have declined to attend my dinner. You will make the numbers odd! Who am I to find at such short notice? I will not have it! You must come."

"I cannot. I have another engagement tomorrow."

"Have you indeed? Did not that son of mine extend the invitation the moment you arrived home? Who could have preceded him?"

There was something in her tone, or manner in the way she asked, which made him certain that she already knew the answer. He sighed. "That son of yours has a loose tongue."

"Not loose enough! He would not tell me a thing about her. Who is she?"

Silently cursing Colonel Fitzwilliam - he had not wanted this conversation yet - he answered her. There was little point in denying her; she would find out soon enough. "Her name is Elizabeth Bennet."

"Bennet." Lady Matlock mulled over the name for a moment. "A Tankerville?"

"I know of no connection to the Earl. She hails from Hertfordshire, not Northumberland."

She gave a little noise of disappointment. "She has attended Almack's?"

"Not to my knowledge."

A very little more conversation confirmed both Elizabeth's importance to Darcy, and her unimportance in the eyes of the world. Lady Matlock's last question, was asked with a kind of desperate hope. "She has been presented at least, surely?"

"I do not believe so."

"Oh, Darcy!" she exclaimed in dismay, and put her cup and saucer down with a clatter. She studied him for a long moment. "You love her very much, do you not?"

"I do." he confirmed. "There is nothing that can be done to change the disadvantages of her situation. Despite that, however, she is all that is lovely and is very dear to me."

Lady Matlock smiled wryly. "I would not expect you to say otherwise, even if she were the most vulgar piece imaginable."

"I should not wish to spend two minutes with such a creature. Do you think so little of my discernment?"

"No, no, I do not - it is more that I can see the strength of your feelings." She sighed, and then smiled again. "I had made such plans for you and now they are all for naught."

"I am quite able to plan my own future!" he exclaimed. "I shall allow that you are disappointed - that this is not the match my parents would have hoped for me - but I doubt there is anything you can say to me on the subject that I have not already contemplated. I have never wished to marry solely for family connections or fortune. Miss Bennet has other attributes which make her necessary to my happiness."

"I am sure she must be the prettiest creature there ever was," she said airily. "I have never before thought you romantic!" The word was not meant as a compliment.

Darcy thought for a long moment. "I am not. I have not given way to an excess of sentiment and sensibility, with no thought to any other consideration. I have given this too much thought, over several months, to be considered a true romantic. Such a man pays more heed to his feelings and far less to his own consequence. I love her despite her situation."

Lady Matlock frowned. "And Miss Bennet? You believe she will accept you without thought to your situation? She may profess romantic ideals, but a penniless daughter of a country squire will forget them soon enough if an eligible offer arises."

"Her ideals have survived the test of two eligible offers in the last six months, alone."

"That paints a picture of a frivolous child, all sensibility and much addicted to novels!"

"I see I cannot please you in this. Either she is senseless or mercenary! She is neither. She has a great deal of sense and no avariciousness. If you knew her you would understand why she means so much to me. She is ..."

"Perfect?" Her tone held some derision, but she looked at him in concern. "How long will you think so? How long will such a grand passion survive the trivialities of everyday life? Marriage built on sentiment alone has the flimsiest of foundations. Love ruins marriage; marriage ruins love."

"You believe that financial security and the forging of new alliances are a better foundation?"

"I have more hopes for any match born of a rational decision, with each party having a good sense of duty and realistic expectations of each other, than any union based on the belief that the flightiest of all emotions will survive fifty years! Had you been equals I should have fewer misgivings. Then at least, there would be commonalities and less cause for regret after the honeymoon is over. She is not one of us; would you be happy with her if you did not love her?" She leaned closer to him and took his hand. "Be kind to yourself! You are not engaged. You are still free--"

"No ma'am," he replied, and her Ladyship sat back in her seat. "I am not free. My heart is engaged, if not my hand. It was not an easy choice but, once I knew her, I could not make a different one."

"Love is transient; marriage is forever. The former should never be the sole reason for the latter. Love her, but let her be the Grand Passion of your youth, to be looked back on with pleasure." Her eyes were over bright and Darcy became concerned that she may give way to tears. She turned her face from him. Her voice faded to almost a whisper. "Do not give her the opportunity to become your bitterest regret, or you hers."

"I could say that I will always love her," he said gently, "but you will not believe me, or will think me naïve. I will say, though, that commonalities can be found in other areas than fortune and connections. Where there are compatible personalities, companionship, shared interests and goals, there will never be regret."

"Friendship." She smiled and nodded. "Yet the way you speak of her is less as a real friend, and more as the embodiment of your ideal."

"Perhaps she is both."

Her Ladyship shook her head. "We can never be friends with our idols."

Darcy frowned. Lady Matlock helped herself to more tea and a little cake, saying. "I do like these; I must have the recipe." She then launched into a monologue of the various bits of Town news he may have missed while in Kent. More, Darcy thought, in an effort to compose herself rather than to entertain him. As she was getting ready to leave she said, "I would meet your paragon; you have intrigued me. You have concerned me very much, but I am intrigued. Will you bring her to me?"

Darcy was wary, "And to see my uncle also?"

"Your uncle?" She let out a long breath before her face lit in genuine amusement. "Your uncle will have an apoplexy!"

"Aunt!"

"No," she laughed. "He will bluster and bellow and kick his heels but he will blow himself out eventually. Bring your Miss Bennet 'round when he is at his club. If you are wise you will wait to present him with a fait accompli - by letter!"

"And if I am kind, I shall do it when you and he are in different counties."

She smiled her brittle smile, the kind where by the movement of just the smallest muscle her face could become tragic. "Oh my darling boy, let me kiss you." He stooped a little and presented his cheek then kissed hers in return. She held his hands with an almost painful grip and said with conviction, "I want only your happiness." She turned to leave but before she had quite reached the door looked back at him and said quietly. "Mine was a love match. Did you know?" He shook his head; he would never have guessed it. She nodded and left the room.

He had never given a great deal of thought to his aunt and uncle's marriage but, if pressed, he would have assumed it to be one of convenience. She was the granddaughter of a Duke, his uncle the eldest son of an Earl. By all worldly standards it was a great match but for as long as he could remember, any interactions between them were marked with, at best, cold civility. They were seldom in the same room and preferred to communicate through servants, or perhaps their children.

He loved Elizabeth. He could not imagine that one day he would cease loving her and treat her with the cold contempt his uncle showed his aunt. Whatever had left its scar on his aunt's heart had not been a love like his. Had not his attachment already survived much?

To think of every early scene,
Of what we are, and what we've been,
Would whelm some softer hearts with woe---
But mine, alas! has stood the blow;
Yet still beats on as it begun,
And never truly loves but one.*

His love was the 'ever-fixed mark' of Shakespeare to be borne out even to 'the edge of doom' - not one that would sour and turn to regret. Regret would be his only if he did not marry her.

*Byron, Stanzas To A Lady, On Leaving England

Chapter Eleven

Posted on 2012-07-16

Miss Darcy was granted her wish as easily as Elizabeth predicted. The dinner guests arrived in good time for dinner, and Mr Darcy took great pleasure in introducing Elizabeth to his sister. Elizabeth found her exactly as Mr Darcy had described. Once again, Wickham was proved a liar: Miss Darcy was not at all haughty, she was a timid, modest girl.

As they all chose their seats in the parlour, Elizabeth could not be more pleased with Mr Bingley. Almost as soon as he came into the room, he singled Jane out for conversation and had chosen to seat himself next to her on a sofa. The day before, Jane had remained determined to believe that Mr Bingley called only as a family friend, with no thoughts as to anything else. Elizabeth thought, that if Mr Bingley continued on in his current vein, that belief could not last long. At the very least, any suspicion that he was partial to Miss Darcy was quashed - he barely even looked in her direction.

Mr Darcy, Elizabeth and Georgiana formed a group in one corner of the room. Darcy said little; he spoke only to help forward the conversation between the ladies and, for the most part, left Elizabeth to draw Georgiana out as best she could. It took all of Elizabeth's amiability and compassion to help Georgiana relax enough to speak, and she could only feel that she would have had better success had Darcy not been present. His eyes were always on one of them; Elizabeth could not be easy.

As the conversation went on, Georgiana did progress from merely nodding and smiling to attempting sentences of perhaps three or four words. She proved herself to be a very sweet girl but, when Georgiana took a seat across the room, Elizabeth was not entirely sorry to see her go; she had not been certain how much longer she could keep the conversation alive.

Georgiana moved to a different chair when a spool of thread rolled across the floor and came to a stop against her slipper. The eldest Miss Gardiner, Julia, had been allowed downstairs for a time before dinner; she had been seated quietly with Maria, working on her sampler, and was not aware her silk was missing. Georgiana returned the thread, Julia thanked her prettily and invited her to inspect her work, which she did. Maria was too much in awe to say a great deal, and Georgiana seemed to find in her a kindred spirit: both were content to sit near Julia, listen to her benign chatter, smile and say very little.

Elizabeth turned to Darcy, "She is a darling."

Darcy looked at Georgiana fondly, and agreed with her. Elizabeth smiled warmly at him.

Darcy smiled in return then, after a moment, said, "You were reading, I think, when we came in. What was the volume?"

She passed it to him without a word; it was a collection of poetry, some on picturesque views, some on love, others of a philosophical bent. He perused it for a long moment, and then eyed it with disfavour.

She frowned and gave a little laugh in amazement. "Is it the binding that offends? For I cannot think it to be the content."

He glanced at the cover again. "It is a handsome volume."

"Explain yourself, sir! There is nothing in those pages to give offence."

"I should imagine not." He smiled. "I may, perhaps, purchase a copy for Georgiana. I believe she would enjoy it."

"But you would not?" She held out her hand for him to return it.

"I like the author," he said, sitting back in his chair and making no move to give her back the book. "But I have it on the very best authority that such works can be ... obstructive."

"On whose authority?"

"Yours."

"Mine?" Her voice betrayed her surprise. "I am sure you are wrong. How could it be 'obstructive'?"

"Poetry to love, is like wind to a flame," he replied. "It will feed a roaring blaze, but should you be trying to kindle a spark the merest whisper could extinguish it. I would encourage my sister to read all that she can, but you I would not."

She recognised her own idea (if not her own words) from months ago. He had committed to memory a conversation from so early on in their acquaintance! "I can scarcely believe you remembered that!"

He smiled. "It was impressed upon my mind because it was not the reply I had expected."

She frowned; the only thing she could remember with any clarity about that conversation was a strong feeling of embarrassment and awkwardness. "Since I cannot remember the details of what was said," she replied, "I cannot think what the appropriate reply would have been."

"You had said poetry starved away love," he recounted. "I disagreed with you and said poetry was thought to be the food of love. The appropriate reply, according to most London Misses, would be 'Of course, Mr Darcy, you must have the right of it', which, inevitably, would be followed by a request for me to recite a favourite verse or two. A rare few would call me out on my misquote. I had thought you might be one of the latter."

Elizabeth gave a little laugh. "I am sorry to have disappointed you."

"Oh, no. I was not disappointed in the least. Your response was rarer still. You gave an opinion you did not learn by rote from a governess, was not stolen from any book and which was contrary to popular belief - an entirely original opinion delivered without self-doubt or hesitation."

She blushed. "Ah, what things can be wrought from too much confidence and too little education!"

"You must know I meant to imply nothing of the sort," he said, leaning a little closer. "Education merely teaches one to repeat what others have said; to challenge it requires real intelligence."¹

The colour in her cheeks deepened.

A slight smile quirked the corner of his mouth. "Am I now to find you did not mean a word you said?"

She raised an eyebrow. "You said once that you do not believe half the things I say."

"I did not say precisely that; I certainly did not mean ---"

His reply was interrupted by Mrs Gardiner inviting them to move to the dining room. As they all filed out of the parlour, Mr Darcy seemed to notice that he still held on to her book. He turned toward her with a slow smile that grew bold as he surveyed the hallway. Elizabeth was ready to take the volume from him, when, to her surprise and vexation, he used his height against her littleness and reached up and placed the book atop a very high display cabinet.

Until that moment, she had been congratulating herself that their interactions grew easier and were less strained. His call the day before had been wanting. Not long after, she had determined to do all in her power to put him at ease the next time they met - how could she ever come to know him if he would not be open? Now, she was seething. He had made no demands, he had not even asked anything of her - she would, perhaps, have been less annoyed had he done so. He had stated his wishes and, when she had not agreed at once to bend to his will, he had tried to take away her choice in the matter. Whether or not this was an attempt at humour (and his wide smile as he did it, indicated it was), she could not like it.

Was this a portend of things to come should she marry him? What demands would he make as her husband, if she vowed to obey him? Was this merely some sort of test of her compliance? Well, she had not made those vows, and, if this sort of behaviour continued, he could be sure she never would!

Dinner was a jolly affair - as was usual for any party around the Gardiners' table. Mr Gardiner had all his sister's exuberance, with none of her vulgarity or silliness, and had the benefit of a well-informed mind. That, along with his wife's gentler manners, meant they entertained their guests very well. Colonel Fitzwilliam, had he been there to witness it, would have seen his prediction proved false: the number of courses was exactly right. Mr Bingley and Elizabeth joined in the discourse with spirit, and the quieter guests, though some contributed far less than others, were all at ease. Elizabeth did not ignore Mr Darcy - she dared not do so to any guest at the Gardiners' table - but the earlier amity between them was missing.

Being a small party, they had no desire to separate over-long after dinner and soon the men joined the ladies in the drawing room. Elizabeth, firm in her decision not to give way to Mr Darcy, was sitting with her book upon her knee. The Gardiners employed a tall footman.

As Darcy entered the room, she looked at him resolutely, but his answering expression was not one of anger, as she had expected, but of defeat. This gave her pause and made her question her perception of his motives. He had always asserted that he valued her opinion and independence, that he did not want her to be at his disposal - and what compliments he had just paid her intelligence! She found it hard to credit that he could be so foolish as to test her obedience. What had he said earlier? Poetry to love, is like wind to a flame, should you be trying to kindle a spark the merest whisper could extinguish it. I would encourage my sister to read all that she can, but you I would not. She saw, all at once, that he was not demanding this of her for any imperious reasons but that he was asking for a sign, a symbolic gesture, that she would allow herself to be open to his suit and all her anger and irritation fell away. He wanted reassurance and, at that moment, she wanted to give it.

She stood and walked over to where Miss Darcy was sitting with Mrs Gardiner, and handed the book to her. "Your brother noticed I was reading this earlier and thought that you may well enjoy it. If it is to your taste I would be very happy to lend it to you. It is a favourite of mine, but I shall not be at all offended if you think it is not something you would like."

"Thank you." She opened the volume and glanced over the contents page, then looked up to Elizabeth with a small smile. "I am sure I will."

Elizabeth turned to Mrs Gardiner. "Aunt, Mr Darcy, in his wisdom," she said, flashing a teasing look at that gentleman, "had the idea that his sister ought to have my book, rather than me. May I take him to the library where he may choose me another one, to read in its stead?"

Mrs Gardiner waved them off, then reassured Miss Darcy (who looked alarmed and was already holding the volume out to return it) that Elizabeth was simply teasing her brother. Finding Georgiana looked equally distressed at that prospect, she tried a different tack and spent an agreeable fifteen minutes with her in conversation (albeit largely one-sided) about poetry.

Darcy followed Elizabeth down the hall, and into the library, with a smile.

Lady Matlock's call the day before, far from warning him off love matches, had renewed his determination to win Elizabeth. Her smile at him earlier, when his sister left them, was both warm and genuine and had given him the encouragement to be more at ease with her. He had thought during dinner, and after when he saw she had retrieved her book, that he had spoiled the easiness they had found, but was glad to be mistaken.

"That was badly done," Elizabeth said, as they entered the room. "I have shocked your sister with my impertinence."

He gave this some thought. "With your liveliness, perhaps. She has a very different manner to you - she is generally much quieter and far less sportive. She would never speak as you did just then." Elizabeth pursed her lips and her eyebrows rose. Darcy wondered at her expression for a moment before saying, "I meant no censure to either of you. I was merely trying to help you better understand her unease. You must continue to treat me," he said seriously, "however you wish to."

She gave him half a smile. "And continue alarming your sister?" She shook her head. "I must strive to deal better with her than I did then."

"You will not find that difficult, I am sure." He took a step or two closer to her. "You did not bring me here to speak of my sister."

"No," she said, seating herself next to the fireplace. "I wanted a book."

"You truly wish for me to choose a book for you?"

"Of course. It is only right, since the one I chose was deemed so wholly unsuitable."

"Temporarily," he said. His confidence was strengthened by her willingness to play along. He looked forward, with a smile, to the not too distant future, when he could safely quote verses to her.

She explained how her uncle's books were organised, then pointed to a side table. "His newest acquisitions are on there."

He began to look over the shelves. "I think that if I am to find a book to replace the other I ought to discover why you were reading it. You said it is a favourite?"

"It is, for many reasons. My aunt and uncle are to travel in the summer to the Lakes, and have invited me to join them, I hope to see some of what the poet saw - I know I shall not find daffodils in July." She smiled. "He also reminds me, that even here in Town, there are sights to be seen so sublime as could make hearts leap up - if only one cares to look."

He was thoughtful for a long moment, then smiled and checked over a particular shelf without success. Turning back to her he said, "I know a book or two that may answer. Unfortunately, they are in my library, not your uncle's." He moved to the side table holding the newest volumes and took one up. "Shall I bring them next time I call?"

"You may, but what shall I read in the interim? That one?"

"This?" He held it so she could read the title - Thinks-I-To-Myself ². "Have you read it?"

"No. Have you? I have not heard anything of it."

"I actually finished it yesterday. I think you may enjoy it. It is much sought after. There is some debate as to who wrote it - an acquaintance of mine was convinced I was the author and, as I could not persuade him otherwise, I felt I had to read it. One ought to know of what one is being accused. It finally arrived while I was in Kent and was waiting for me on my return. Georgiana had offered to send it to me at Rosings but I declined - I very much wish I had accepted. I ought to have read it earlier. You will readily see, I think," he said, handing her the volume, "why I could not have written it."

"A serio-ludicro tragico-comico tale?" she exclaimed after reading the title page, "How could anyone think you would have penned such a thing?"

"Perhaps you will find the answer on reading it. I find I am not insulted by his error, though I doubt it will ever be considered a masterpiece."

"With such high praise, how could I not read it?"

He raised an eyebrow at her tone. "There is some poetry - especially at the end of each volume - but the plot is perfectly decipherable without it."

"I shall avert mine eyes!" she said laughingly. After a moment's thought, she added, "My uncle has plans for us to visit the theatres to see a play and perhaps an opera. Should I plead a headache?"

He blinked at this non sequitur. "I cannot think why you would."

"Shakespeare - a favourite of my uncle - is, as you of course would know, written in blank verse - 'iambic pentameter', is that right?" He nodded, and she continued, "And songs are simply poems with a melody."

"Iambic pentameter is so insidious that it can be found in everyday speech - unless you were to stop up your ears you could not avoid it." He paused for a moment in thought then added, exaggerating the rhythm:

"I know full well that one can fall in love
although ones ears are working perfectly."

Elizabeth laughed.

He smiled. "And the opera? I must invite your party to my box. Have you forgotten? Music is the food of love."

"In moderation," she replied. "Be careful the opera you choose is not over-long."

He looked at her questioningly, and she rose, took up the volume of Twelfth Night and passed it to him.

"Were you never taught," she continued, "the importance of context?"

She flashed him a smile, one that a few weeks ago he would have thought flirtatious, and left the room, going, he presumed, back into the drawing room. After a moment he flicked through the book and read the opening lines:

If music be the food of love, play on.
Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting,
The appetite may sicken, and so die.

Smiling, and shaking his head, he returned the book to its shelf and headed for the drawing room but he did not find Elizabeth there.

The tea things had been brought in while they were absent, and Mrs Gardiner poured him a cup. After a few minutes, Elizabeth entered the room carrying a book. She favoured him with a quick smile as she made her way to his sister and took a seat near her. Passing the book to Miss Darcy, she said, "It is Poems in Two Volumes - I could hardly lend you one without the other!"

"Thank you."

"Some of these poems," Elizabeth said as she indicated the books, "were written in the Lake District. Have you ever visited there?"

Georgiana nodded.

"Mr & Mrs Gardiner have been so kind as to invite me to travel north with them this summer. I am hoping to see as much of the county as I can. Which parts have you visited?"

Darcy could not hear his sister's response, it was too quiet, but he saw her smile as she answered. He took a seat near Mr Gardiner, asked to borrow his newspaper and began to look through the listings of the opera houses.

Mr Bingley had again seated himself near Jane, and was engaged in conversation with her and Mrs Gardiner, who had taken up her embroidery next to her niece. Jane wished to appear indifferent; to seem as she always had done, but she did not speak as much as she was used to do in Hertfordshire. Her mind was so occupied, that she did not always know when her tongue was not.

Elizabeth continued to exercise her talents on Georgiana away from the watchful eye of Mr Darcy. That gentleman, once he had finished with the newspaper, entered into conversation with his host.

After a gentle reminder from one of the ladies, Maria sat down to pen a letter to Charlotte to belatedly inform her of her safe arrival in London. It was full of the delights of Town- a list of the things she had seen, what she was to do, what she had bought and what she had wished she could buy. In reply to her sister's express request of news of Mr Darcy, especially details of any time he had spent in Elizabeth's company, she wrote:-

I cannot see that he pays her any Particular Attention. They were in conversation for a time when we were all together but it would be odd indeed for E. to sit with anyone and say naught, whether she liked them or no. I cannot find that he attempts to woo her at all. Indeed, earlier, he asked her which book she was reading and he took it from her and looked very severe. (I am quite sure I would have died had he looked so at me. He must be a very strict sort of brother and I feel very sorry for Miss Darcy!) They debated for some time and while I was not paying a great deal of attention, as little Julia had her silks in a knot, I am sure I heard him threaten to use it as kindling. I am sure that no man who wishes to burn her books would do for E. (even if he would give her pin money enough to replace them all!).

As they all were making their goodbyes, Georgiana haltingly asked Mrs Gardiner if a dinner at the Darcy town house on Saturday was convenient and Mr Darcy issued an invitation to join him at the Opera in one week's time to see Paer's Camilla³. Both offers were accepted.

Darcy bowed over Elizabeth's hand, saying with a smile: "I have never before picked a performance solely for its likely brevity."

Elizabeth smiled in return. "Is it of moderate length?"

"It is new, so I am not certain, but the only other musical offering available, before you are due to return home, is A Grand Selection of Sacred Orchestral Compositions, which certainly sounds the longer of the two."

Elizabeth agreed with him.

Darcy looked at her for a long moment before asking in a low voice, "May I bring those books for you tomorrow?"

Elizabeth pursed her lips. "No, not tomorrow," she replied; "we are all out for the day. My uncle has planned a surprise for us all."

Darcy's first thoughts were for himself and his own disappointment, but after a moment was able to wish her a pleasant day and, after consulting with Mrs Gardiner, arrangements were made for him to call the day after next.

The next day was not a complete success. Mr Gardiner's high treat had gone awry. Laughing to herself later that night, Elizabeth thought that at least she would have a humorous tale with which to fill up her letters to Longbourn, so that she might avoid mention of Other Developments. She had still rather have those conversations face to face if, indeed, she had to have them at all.

Jane still believed that she had no developments of her own to write about; she had no wish to raise unfounded hopes in her mother's breast. Elizabeth had almost lost patience with her. Jane's reluctance to admit Mr Bingley's feelings remained, even though, when they had returned from their adventures, a card lay on the silver tray in the hall with Jane Bennet written across the back in an elegant hand. Miss Bingley had called again in Gracechurch Street.

"There!" Elizabeth had said, "If that does not let you hope in Mr Bingley, I do not know what will."

Elizabeth was about to answer encouragingly, until Jane added: "Or her brother's," then Elizabeth could almost have boxed her ears.

Climbing into bed, but not yet ready to sleep, Elizabeth took up the book Mr Darcy had recommended.

She began to read it, found it to be a humorous 'autobiography'; a satire, ridiculing the absurdities of the day. For the most part, she enjoyed it. Because the story flowed well, (and as she had skipped over the preface, which ran to almost forty pages) she very soon found herself half way through the first volume. She had seen within the first few pages why an acquaintance of Mr Darcy may have singled him out as the author - the narrator proclaimed himself to be a taciturn man, prone to observing his company with a critical eye - but she thought, if Mr Darcy were to write a book, his style of writing would be very different.

The next few chapters, however, caused her to half wonder whether he was in fact the author, despite his denying it. The main character fell in love (without quite realising what he was about) with a girl of modest family, with modest accomplishments, who was content to travel around the neighbourhood on foot! She had not yet discovered what Mr Darcy had meant when he had said that she would see at once why he could not have written it, but she thought that must be made evident further on in the book. It was certainly a strange way to begin a courtship.

She blew out her candle and nestled under the blankets. Her last coherent thoughts were: Was ever woman in this humour wooed? Was ever woman in this humour won?⁴ She could not say, but it certainly had the potential to be far more interesting than she had previously anticipated.

1 "To repeat what others have said, requires education; to challenge it, requires brains."
Mary Pettibone Poole, A Glass Eye at a Keyhole, 1938

2 Thinks-I-To-Myself was written by Edward Nares in 1811. It had mixed reviews by the critics but was very popular with the public, and by 1812 had run to eight editions. It was published anonymously and there was a great deal of speculation as to who had written it. It has now fallen into obscurity.

3 Unfortunately, I could not find the listings for the operas shown on the day I wished them to go to the theatre. Camilla written by Ferdinando Paer, was first performed in England two weeks later. Paer was a popular composer in continental Europe in the early 19th century. His works were favourably compared to Mozart and Beethoven. Beethoven actually enjoyed one of his compositions so much, he said he would "have to compose it" himself. Paer's operas have not survived the test of time, and are now rarely performed, as the subjects are no longer fashionable.

4 Shakespeare, Richard III

Chapter Twelve

Posted on 2012-08-04

After a quiet dinner Darcy sat with his sister in the drawing room. She was reading one of the volumes of poetry Elizabeth had loaned her; he was reading a book of his own. The tea things were brought in and Georgiana set about preparing it.

"How do you like your book?" Darcy asked her.

"Very well." she replied, and after a moment added, "She - Miss Elizabeth - she truly does not dislike my having it?"

"Not at all, I assure you." He watched Georgiana as she sat back, waiting for the tea to infuse. He could see she was not quite satisfied with his answer, so he continued, "Miss Elizabeth wished you to read it. If she had not, nothing would have persuaded her to part with it." His sister was still frowning so he added, "She finds great sport in teasing; you must not mind it."

"You do not mind her teasing?"

"Not at all."

She thought about this for a moment then, as she began to pour, she said, "I know something that I think you would mind."

"And what is that?"

Georgiana smiled and nodded toward the book. "She underlines certain passages."

Darcy came close to wincing.

Georgiana handed him his cup. "I think they must be her favourite parts, or those that mean something to her. In some places she also writes in the margins."

Darcy was thoughtful for a moment, "I can bear that."

"Truly? In the Chaucer? Or the first editions?"

"Heaven forfend. I meant that I would try not to cringe if she must write in her own, not that I would tolerate her defacing Pemberley's treasures."

"And the other books?"

"Perhaps. If it is particularly insightful." He took a sip of tea. "And provided she writes in pencil."

Georgiana frowned a little. "I am not sure she writes what you would consider insightful."

"What does she write?"

Georgiana took up the book, found one of Elizabeth's notations and read aloud, "Saw the view from the bridge, mid afternoon. Far from restive. Disappointing, loud and grey. Must look very different in the magical light of early morning - as long as there is a wind strong enough to blow away all the smoke - and keep inside all the people - almost too great a change for my imagination to conjure. Or perhaps my soul is too dull? I would have passed it by in an instant. I did, however, see a cloud that looked rather like a rabbit, which the breeze tugged 'til it suddenly resembled a daffodil - Someone was laughing at me, I thought it only polite to return the favour. 10th February 1810. EB."

Though he heard his sister's voice, they were unmistakeably Elizabeth's words. Darcy reached across and took the book from her and began to thumb through it, stopping to read the occasional notes.

After he had read three or four passages, he announced, "I have changed my mind."

"You cannot tolerate it after all?" His sister asked, uncertainly.

"Oh, no. She may write whatsoever she likes and may use ink."

On Thursday morning, Elizabeth was happy to see Mr Bingley call again in Gracechurch Street (and was equally happy that he did not bring his sister with him). He arrived just a few minutes before Mr Darcy and Georgiana.

Mr Darcy carried with him the promised books, two volumes - one substantially larger than the other. After they had all sat down he handed her the smaller of the books, entitled, A Fortnight's Ramble to the Lakes.¹

"The author is an energetic man," he said. "He is not content to merely pass through and describe what he happens to notice - he actively seeks out experiences and adventures and is as like to describe a strange man he happens to meet, as any picturesque view. It was written a number of years ago - but lakes and mountains change little and, as he travelled in the late summer, you might well see what he saw."

She flicked through the list of contents and found amongst the various lakes and mountains, references to 'an old Irish woman's charms', 'curly-headed children' and even 'a large frog'. Wordsworth's 'leech-gatherer' or his 'solitary reaper' could have fitted in well among them. At first glance, it appeared Mr Darcy had put a deal of thought into choosing the book. She told him so and thanked him.

Darcy looked to his sister and passed the larger book to her; after a moment's hesitation she said, "I brought you this." and placed the volume on the table between them, toward Elizabeth. When Miss Darcy opened it, Elizabeth saw at once it was an exquisite collection of hand-tinted prints. Georgiana turned, with great care, to a certain page then looked at Elizabeth in expectation.

"Oh!" Elizabeth exclaimed in both surprise and wonder. It was a view of Westminster Bridge, capturing the early morning light. She leaned forward to see it better. She coloured, a little, realising that Georgiana must have read her scribblings - but thought her very sweet to have taken the trouble to bring her this book. Had the view been taken from the bridge, rather than of it, it would have been exactly as Wordsworth had seen it, and a few lines from his poem sounded in her head:

This City now doth, like a garment, wear
The beauty of the morning; silent, bare,
Ships, towers, domes, theatres and temples lie
Open unto the fields, and to the sky;
All bright and glittering in the smokeless air.²

After a long perusal of the scene, she looked up and found Georgiana smiling widely back at her. "Thank you!" said Elizabeth. "I can almost imagine Wordsworth was standing on the bridge as this was being painted; wherever did you find it?"

"It was a present," Georgiana answered, "ever so long ago, from my brother." She turned over a few pages, to a view of a craggy hillside, all purple heather and sand coloured rocks. There were woods in the distance and beyond them the majesty of the Peaks. "This is very near Pemberley."

"Georgiana was at school, and missing home, so I bought it in an effort to cheer her." Darcy explained.

Miss Darcy smiled. "I hid it from the other girls, to keep it nice."

"There are also two or three prints from around Grasmere and Kendal which may be of interest to you."

Elizabeth called her aunt over to look at the print of Derbyshire.

Mrs Gardiner recognised it at once, saying, "Why, that is Gradbeck Crag!" She studied it for a minute or two then said, "It is very well done. Is this yours, Miss Darcy?"

Georgiana nodded.

"It is quite beautiful."

"Miss Darcy brought it to show me this view of Westminster," said Elizabeth, carefully turning the pages.

It took Mrs Gardiner a moment or two to realise the significance. "Oh! Like the poem. Is that in the book Lizzy lent to you?"

Georgiana nodded. Then looking at Elizabeth said "I meant to leave this with you, to view at leisure."

Elizabeth smiled widely and thanked her.

"If you do borrow it, Lizzy, be sure to keep it in a safe place - on a high shelf, perhaps - away from the children. It looks pristine; they would surely spoil it."

"I shall certainly keep it safe - but on a high shelf?" said Elizabeth with a sly look at Darcy. "I am not certain I have the heart. I am the shortest of five sisters, Miss Darcy, you cannot imagine the number of things that have been placed out of my reach for sport."

"I am hardly taller than you," Miss Darcy answered softly, with a glance at her brother.

Elizabeth looked at him too, and noticed his cheeks were tinged with colour, but he smiled at her unashamedly.

Maria skipped over to the group. "Oh, Eliza!" she exclaimed. "Is it time to go yet?"

"Maria, it is not yet noon---"

"I do not wish to be late."

"We need not set off for a half-hour at least and then we would still be early." Elizabeth turned to the Darcys. "We are to go to the Tower to see the cannon salute."

"Ah, yes," replied Darcy, "the King's birthday."

Elizabeth nodded. Her aunt invited the Darcys to join them, if they did not mind the company of the youngest Gardiners, and it was soon settled amongst them all that Mr Darcy, his sister and Mr Bingley would join the ladies and the children to visit the Tower of London.

Sir William Lucas had recommended that Maria view some of the celebrations for His Majesty's birthday while in Town, and was expecting a letter detailing all the pomp and ceremony of the occasion. As the Gardiner's home was not fifteen minutes from the Tower, witnessing the cannon salute was easily accomplished.

Maria was forwarder than any of the others, and seemed to find it impossible to keep still, in her impatience to be out of the door. Elizabeth took pity on her, and as soon as they were ready she suggested that she and Maria, along with the Darcys set off at once - leaving the other ladies and the nursemaid to button the children's coats and tie their bonnets, and follow along after with Mr Bingley.

Gracechurch Street was one of the main arteries through the City and the traffic was heavy. Together the throng of people, the hawkers' shouts, and the clatter of hooves and wheels on cobbles made such a din that conversation was impossible. But as the group turned off the main road and headed for the Tower, it grew quieter.

"Where did Mr Gardiner take you all yesterday?" asked Mr Darcy as soon as he could be heard.

Maria shuddered.

Elizabeth smiled wryly. "He took us to Blackheath."

Darcy looked at Maria. "You did not like it, Miss Lucas?"

Maria's eyes widened - and Elizabeth wondered if he had ever before directly asked her a question - but she managed to reply, "The park was very pretty, but I did not like the cave at all."

"Jack Cade's Cavern?"

"Yes," replied Elizabeth. "My uncle refused to tell us where he was taking us and it was only when the carriage stopped and we saw the sign, that we knew what he was about. My Aunt - oh, wisest of women! - was the only one of us to declare she would not go, and stayed in the carriage."

"Was it so very bad? I have never visited."

"Not at first. It was dark, but, as the guide had a large lantern, not as much as we had feared. It is divided into many chambers and, as we entered each one, he ran off to light candles and it was quite dim before they were all lit. My uncle - not being satisfied leaving all the commentary to our guide - felt it was his duty to entertain us all, and alternately amused and frightened the children with tales of the nefarious banditti who used to haunt the cave."

"Oh! - he said all sorts of horrid things!" added Maria. "Once, he said that two arches looked just like the eye sockets of a giant's skull - and they did! It gave me such a feeling!"

"I think my uncle could make a stir writing gothic novels," Elizabeth said. "While we were waiting in the dark, he would speculate on who - or what - might be lurking in the next chamber. He told it in such an imaginative way that, when our guide suddenly raised a chandelier aloft - so we could all get a fine view of the devil's heads carved into the walls, the shrieks of the children fairly deafened us all! Try as we might, the little ones could not be calmed. The boys had to be carried out."

"Oh! - I hope they recovered quickly," said Georgiana.

"They did; thanks to their Mama and the restorative power of iced buns." Elizabeth shook her head. "My uncle felt it longer than any of the children - he did not mean to scare them so. They are used to his tales, and usually like to be frightened, but I think the cave was too much for them. I can only hope it has not put them off caves forever."

Maria shuddered again. "I don't think I should ever like to go down one again."

They were quiet for a moment, then Darcy asked Elizabeth whether she had liked the experience of being in a cave.

"I did find it fascinating, I have never been down one before, but after carrying a small frightened child back through it, and then up forty steps (according to the guide, but it certainly felt like more) I was more than ready to see the sunlight. But I shall not let it prevent me visiting one again, should I be granted the opportunity - but perhaps not with my uncle!"

"We have a number of caves in Derbyshire," said Darcy slyly.

Elizabeth rolled her eyes.

"Oh yes!" exclaimed Georgiana, "Tell her of the one with the lake and the little boats - and the singing!"

That was perhaps the longest and most animated sentence Elizabeth had heard Georgiana utter, and she smiled warmly at her, despite her feelings towards her brother's lack of subtlety.

Darcy described to the ladies a vast subterranean lake, in a cavern as big as a cathedral that could only be reached by an underground ferry. "When we entered the chamber, to our surprise, from far above our heads we heard a choir of melodious voices and a great many lights appeared up there."

"The acoustics were like no other place," said Georgiana; "the song echoed from all sides."

"It sounds heavenly," Maria breathed.

"If you removed the choir and candles, of course," said Darcy, "it would have had a very different atmosphere - far from being heavenly it could not have avoided comparison to the river Styx."

Georgiana frowned, but then agreed with him. Maria looked confused.

Elizabeth smiled. "A gloomy thought indeed! The guides to your cave did all in their power to make it a cathedral - our guide showed us devil's heads and not even my uncle compared it to the underworld!"³

They arrived at Tower Hill and the others soon joined them. A crowd had gathered to witness the salute and the two little Gardiner boys - who were most eager to view the cannons - were not able to see through all the people, and begged to be lifted by their cousins.

They all heard the command to begin shouted from above - soon followed by a blast of smoke and a loud explosion as the first cannon fired, quickly followed by others. Maria began to count them all and was joined at first by the two girls, Julia and Amelia, but after reaching two and twenty Amelia covered her ears and went to her mother, and a little later Julia sought comfort from a surprised, but flattered, Georgiana.

Elizabeth had lifted Thomas, a stout lad of five-years, onto her hip, and, finding him heavy, shifted him to her other arm. Mr Darcy, standing close by her, noticed and bent to speak to Thomas, over the noise of the cannons.

"Should you like to sit up on my shoulder?"

Thomas thought that a splendid idea and in a moment he was taken from his cousin and hoisted up, high above the heads of the crowd.

Elizabeth thanked him.

Darcy smiled. "Being tall does have its advantages."

Bingley, not wishing to be outdone in chivalry by Darcy, soon had taken little Peter from Jane. The two boys were well pleased; Thomas was perhaps the happier as he crowed to his brother: "I am the tallest!"

Perched high on the gentlemen's shoulders, they took great delight in hearing the booms and smelling the smoke as they watched the artillery men fire their great guns, and would likely re-enact it with their toy soldiers at the earliest opportunity. The sixty-two gun salute lasted more than ten minutes and left the whole party's ears' ringing.

Maria's letter to her papa detailed everything she found interesting on the occasion - how smart the artillery men looked in their dress uniforms, how patriotic she had felt when the crowd took up a cheer of "God save the King!" and how Mr Bingley had started a cry of "Hip-hip! - Huzzah!" Then realising how those at Lucas Lodge could not know that Jane had been reunited with Mr Bingley, she wrote:-

Tell Mama that since I wrote last, Mr Bingley has dined once and called on J.! I am so happy for her. He always takes care to sit near her and is very attentive. J. barely touches her food and is often so lost in her own thoughts that she does not hear when someone speaks to her, she is so violently in love! We have seen Mr Darcy again too. He is much as he ever was and comes in support of his friend. I had thought (and wrote so to Ch.) that he was too strict a brother, but I must admit I have never seen him happier than when he is in Miss Darcy's company.

The next day, as Mrs Gardiner was to go to a charity meeting in that part of town, Jane took the opportunity to call on Miss Bingley, and Elizabeth returned Miss Darcy's call. After half an hour's conversation the girls were both back in the carriage, on their way to collect their aunt.

"Well Jane? How did you find Miss Bingley?"

"She was very pleasant - very civil."

Elizabeth did not quite believe her.

"She was - I will own that it was a little awkward at first, but her manners were much as they were in Hertfordshire. She must be very sorry for our misunderstanding."

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. "'Misunderstanding' you call it?"

"Well, you may see for yourself - if our aunt approves - Mrs Hurst has invited us all to supper after the opera."

"Is that so? We have their brother to thank for that, I think."

"No indeed, we owe it to Mr Darcy."

The carriage came to a stop to await Mrs Gardiner.

"Are you certain?" Elizabeth asked in disbelief.

Jane nodded. "If we go, Mr Darcy will also attend. From what I gathered, he would not accept the invitation without it being extended to the rest of his party."

"All of us? Our aunt and uncle too?"

"Yes, and Maria, if our aunt thinks it right that she be there."

"This shows," said Elizabeth, "how very much Miss Bingley wishes for Mr Darcy to attend."

"Or rather, how very much Mr Darcy wants you to be there."

The door was opened by the footman, and Mrs Gardiner sat down opposite them. She looked harried.

"I ought to feel saintly and benevolent," she said, "but every time I leave one of these meetings I have not a single charitable thought in my head. Old cats! Most would not acknowledge me should they pass me in the street, but they are quite ready to butter me up to get another shilling out of me."

"I am sure they only do so because it is for the children. It is such a good cause, is it not?"

"Yes - an excellent cause - which is the only reason I go. I certainly do not go for the insincerity - or the refreshments, they scrimped on the cake; someone had cut the flour with chalk." Mrs Gardiner sighed. "Well my dears, I hope your mornings were more pleasant. Jane? Did Miss Bingley behave as she ought?"

Jane reassured her aunt then told her of the invitation to sup with the Hursts after the opera.

"Gracious!" exclaimed Mrs Gardiner, "and Mr Darcy and Mr Bingley are to be there? Well, I suppose we must accept for both your sakes."

Jane coloured and turned her face to the window. Mrs Gardiner asked her whether she had seen Mr Bingley that morning.

"It was as I expected, he was not there."

Elizabeth slipped her arm through Jane's. "But he did not know you were to call. I am sure that if he knew he would have made sure to be there."

Jane patted her hand. "You are so very kind, to be always trying to make his behaviour a compliment to me. But I cannot believe it - and if you must think it, I had much rather you did not say it."

"Why would he call, if not for you?"

"To support his friend."

She looked out of the window again, and seemed disinclined to continue to talk of Mr Bingley.

Elizabeth looked to her aunt for assistance, but Mrs Gardiner merely shook her head and asked, "Did you see Mr Darcy today?"

"No, only his sister and her companion, Mrs Annesley," replied Elizabeth. "We had a lovely coze. Miss Darcy and I arranged to go shopping together next week."

"Let me know when, and I will make sure John can go with you," said Mrs Gardiner. "Miss Darcy seems a dear sweet girl. And her brother is not at all what we were led to believe. I was quite relieved to find that you do not have an ogre for a suitor! He is not at all what your uncle and I imagined from your descriptions of his behaviour in Hertfordshire."

"I never found him to be so very disagreeable," said Jane, "but he was very quiet."

"On the whole he spoke very little." agreed Elizabeth. "He never did more than civility required - sometimes he did less. He made no effort, then, to be agreeable."

"Well, then, I must say that when he chooses, he can be quite pleasing."

Elizabeth started - how close that statement was to what Mr Wickham had said! - but he had indicated that Mr Darcy only chose to please those who were rich and well connected. Not that she any longer blindly trusted whatever had fallen from Mr Wickham's lips - but she had always believed this to be the case, there had seemed to be no evidence to the contrary until now. Mr & Mrs Gardiner, however much she loved and respected them, would never be thought by the world to be Mr Darcy's equals, and yet he had chosen to please them, and secure an invitation to the Hursts for them.

That this was a compliment to her, she could not deny. There was no other motive for him to befriend people of no importance to the world - the very relations whom he had not long ago openly disdained. There was no benefit for him in this, other than her good opinion - indeed their acquaintance alone might draw down ridicule and censure upon his head.

She did not know how far she could trust his constancy in this - his improved manners had survived the better part of a week, and it seemed that he meant to continue, she could only imagine, until her return home.

If he did marry her - and no longer needed to court her good opinion - and if his friends and relations mocked him for having such lowly connections, would he be less inclined to make the effort - or give the Gardiners up entirely? She could not think that he would be so disloyal - but then, she had never thought that he would befriend her aunt and uncle.

Her aunt spoke again, breaking into her thoughts. "It is nice to have a chat with just us three alone - we have not had the opportunity since you came back, Lizzy. May I tell you how much your uncle and I like your Mr Darcy? He is very dignified in his air, to be sure - perhaps even stately - but we are pleased with him. He is an intelligent young man - his opinions seem sound - and he is all that he ought to be. But whether we like him is not so important as whether you do. Are you growing to like him any better, my dear?"

Elizabeth met the eyes of her aunt and sister, both looking at her expectantly. She did not know how to put into words that although her opinion was improving, she still had doubts, she did not understand him, she was hesitant to fully trust him. She could only nod.

Darcy returned home and learned, soon after sitting down with his sister, that Miss Elizabeth had been in his house while he was absent. He cursed his timing.

"Oh, I do like her." Georgiana said. She went on to describe in some detail the discussion they had continued on the various delights of travelling in summer - games to play in the carriage - methods of preventing freckles and tanning - capturing landscapes on paper: "She does not draw, did you know? She said she once tried to draw her father's horse, but her father told her that her rendering was so 'long in the neck' she had better say it was a giraffe. She said if she tried to draw a mountain range, it would most likely be mistaken for a seascape." Finally, they had spoken of buying gifts for those left at home. "She asked if I would like to shop with her, when she buys presents for her family. We are to go on Wednesday. It is to be just her and me, and no one else - not even her sister!"

Or your brother, thought Darcy. He answered her only with a curt, "Indeed."

The more she had spoken, the more his mood had sunk. What had he expected? That Miss Elizabeth would have spent the morning questioning his sister about him?

Georgiana's eye's widened. "Was I wrong to do so? Should I have asked your permission first? I thought you would like for us to become friends."

Darcy sighed and leaned over to take her hand. "No - you were not wrong. Of course you must be friends - I would have you be sisters. Forgive me." He smiled ruefully. "She was here, and I was not."

Georgiana squeezed his hand.

"I have business to attend," he said, rising from his seat. "You shall tell me more at dinner when - I promise you - I shall be less of a bear."

Good people, when they go a little astray, often feel guilt more keenly than those with no conscience, who do far worse. On entering his study Darcy's thoughts kept him from whatever correspondence he had wanted to see to. He had been jealous of his sister and that was beneath him.

He was constantly working at improving himself. Some things, certainly, he found far easier than others. Befriending the Gardiners, for instance, was not the arduous, mortifying task he had assumed it would be. He really liked them and it humbled him that he could have spoken of them with such disdain in Kent, when he did not know them. However, he was finding his selfishness difficult to conquer - certainly the correction of such a flaw could not be the work of a day, or even a fortnight.

When they had first arrived in London, he had looked to his own interests when deciding when to call on Elizabeth. Why could he not have given her another day or two? He had known that she had needed time.

When Lady Matlock had hinted that Elizabeth was incredibly vulgar - had he defended her? No. He had defended himself - hurt that his aunt could doubt his discernment.

When Mr Gardiner's treat had spoiled his plans, why could he not have been pleased for her? Why had he needed to remind himself to wish her a pleasant time?

Now, he was jealous of the ease and intimacy his sister had found so readily with Miss Elizabeth.

They were small things, perhaps - but he had rather keep a tight rein on himself than allow the possibility of his gradually making larger errors. He shifted in his seat, his thoughts were drawn back to Kent, and knew that, even now, larger instances were not beyond him. Guilt knotted his stomach. For his own sake - and for Elizabeth - he would do whatever needed to be done.

A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts. His manservant informed him that Lady Matlock was awaiting him in the yellow saloon. He sighed, told his servant that his aunt could expect him in ten minutes and rubbed his temples.

He made his bow to his aunt and greeted her. "Madam."

"Oh, I know you are cross when I am 'Madam'." He made no answer and she continued, a little stiffly, "You must forgive me for my behaviour on Monday."

"There is nothing to forgive."

She set her teacup down - almost upsetting it - and rose from her seat. "I was a hairsbreadth away from weeping on your shoulder."

"Then I must be grateful to you, for not doing so."

She nodded and tried to smile but was not successful. He felt callous. She had always been kind to him. He was sure she had the best of intentions and was attempting, in her own way, to further his happiness. He could only imagine that old memories had been called to her mind and that they had been painful.

"Do you need a shoulder to weep upon?"

Her face lit up. "My dearest, dearest, darling boy!" She stepped closer to him. "Whatever would you do, if I did?"

"Whatever any man would do - panic and give you my handkerchief."

She laughed delightedly. "Well you may be easy - I do not mean to cry on you."

He gave her a small smile.

"I did not mean to cry then, but I was all astonishment! And I said all the wrong things! Had I been clever about it I would have kept my mouth firmly shut. Nothing could have been more likely to drive you further into her arms."

Darcy stiffened.

"Oh, I do not want to be at odds with you." She moved to the table and began to turn around the vase of flowers in the centre, as though looking for faults in the arrangement. "When your uncle and I fell in love, so very long ago, no one questioned me. All our friends were so very glad we had fallen in love with each other and not with anyone unsuitable, that no one asked us if we knew what we were about."

"So you ask me."

She nodded.

He replied resolutely, "I know what I am about."

She picked a flower from the arrangement (which to Darcy's eyes looked perfectly well as it was) and moved it to a different place.

In a softer tone, he said, "I know what it is you are afraid of."

She glanced sharply up at him.

"I shall make a vow before God - and let me assure you that I shall treat it with the utmost seriousness. I shall vow to keep her, cherish her and honour her for better or for worse for the rest of my life and to keep me only unto her. I shall vow it, and I shall mean it, and I shall keep it."

"Even if she no longer makes you happy?"

"Especially should that happen." He thought that in a happy marriage those vows would be obeyed almost without thought. In difficult times, when the vows were harder to keep, it would be more important to abide by them.

Lady Matlock looked up and studied him for a long moment. "You are obstinate enough to do it, too." She shook her head, looked critically at the vase, and pulled out all the flowers, placing them on the table. "Have you scissors? A penknife?"

Darcy fetched her some scissors from a drawer, and she began to trim the stems.

"And Miss Bennet?" she asked, "Will she keep her vows?"

"I trust her," he replied. "She treats the question of whether to marry me or not with all due seriousness; she will not take her marriage vows lightly."

She gave a half-hearted nod - he knew she was not convinced - and set down the scissors. "Your uncle at least knows that my connections have helped him politically, that our marriage has improved his sons' heritage, that my dowry has been put to work enriching the Matlock estate, and he has the comfort that on my death it will go to Richard - I need not tell you that many younger sons are not so well provided for. You won't even have those comforts! You said you shared commonalities but are you absolutely certain? Girls hide their true selves to please men all the time and, all the while, believe they can change men to become something they are not. It never works! Romantic love is a flimsy, fickle thing. If that is all you have, once it is gone you will have nothing. I have little enough, but I have something."

Her eyes were over-bright. All the benefits of his aunt's marriage seemed to be on Lord Matlock's side. She had very little indeed with which to console herself. He tried to take her hand, but she pulled it away.

"Do not - or I will weep all over your coat."

He shook his head and stepped away. Lady Matlock took up the scissors again, shortening the last few stems.

"Miss Elizabeth is confident," Darcy said. "She is comfortable enough with herself that she does not try to be something she is not."

Lady Matlock sighed, and began to return the flowers to the vase.

"And," he continued, "for a large part of our acquaintance, she by no means wanted to please me, let alone hide her true self to do so." He smiled. "Goodness knows that should she disagree with me, she lets me know it - in no uncertain terms."

She looked up, a startled expression on her face, then smiled. "A Beatrice to your Benedick?"

"Perhaps. Some might say that we never meet but that there's a skirmish of wit between us."⁴

She gave a little laugh, then found places for the last few blooms. "There," she said once the flowers were done to her satisfaction.

Darcy did not know how it was, but although he could see nothing wrong with the flowers as they were before, they did look better now, and he said so.

"Well, I have an eye for it." Her face turned serious again. "Oh! I hope you do know what you are doing!"

"I want to reassure you - I do not like to be at odds with you, either - but I do not know what more I can say or do."

"It is easily done," she replied, shaking her head, "let me meet her!"

1 A Fortnight's Ramble to the Lakes in Westmorland, Lancashire, and Cumberland by A Rambler, aka Joseph Palmer, aka Joseph Budworth. First edition: 1792. Yes, all those things were subheadings in various chapters, and there were a great many more oddities besides these, which I could have chosen. His fortnight tour took place between July and August, so any sights he saw would have been similar to what Elizabeth might have seen (had she ever got as far as the Lakes).

2 Poems In Two Volumes by Wordsworth, was published in 1807. Elizabeth wrote her note in the margins of Composed upon Westminster Bridge, September 3, 1802. You read the entire poem here and see a print of the bridge drawn by Augustus Pugin and Thomas Rowlandson here. The 'leech-gatherer' is from Resolution and Independence and both that poem and The Solitary Reaper, are also from Poems In Two Volumes.

3 The caves described are Blackheath Cavern - also known as Jack Cade's Cavern - which is a chalk mine, not a natural cave, and Castleton Cave in Derbyshire. My descriptions of the caves are inspired by various early nineteenth century guidebooks and engravings, and websites devoted to Blackheath Cavern.

4 This quote, and Beatrice and Benedick - who wage a 'merry war' and trade witty insults right up to the point when they declare their love for each other - are, of course, from Shakespeare's Much Ado About Nothing.