Beginning, Section II, Next Section

Chapter Six

Posted on Thursday, 14 November 2002, at 8:06 p.m.

Lady Catherine was most seriously displeased.

Her niece and nephew had spent the majority of the past two days in the company of Miss Bennet, and the effects were beginning to show. Much to her ladyship's indignation, Darcy had, on more than one occasion, neglected poor Anne in the library in order to venture off with the penniless daughter of a country gentleman on a tour of the grounds of Pemberley. Something was amiss- the estate was extensive, but not that extensive. And in Georgiana a boldness of manner and spirit were arising that could not be but signs of Miss Bennet's unwelcome influence.

The more she knew of the girl, the less Lady Catherine was disposed to like her. Miss Bennet was forward, often impertinently so, laughed a great deal too much and too merrily, and, what was perhaps most disturbing of all, she had quite obviously set her cap at Darcy. The odious way in which she teased and smiled at him were perhaps the worst displays of tasteless flirtation her ladyship had ever had the misfortune to witness. It was too much to be borne. The presumption! Did Miss Bennet honestly think that the head of one of the oldest and wealthiest families in England would stoop to marry a girl from such inferior society? Unfeeling, selfish girl!

Hearing laughter from without the sitting room's open window, Lady Catherine moved from her solitary seat in Darcy's favorite armchair and peered disapprovingly down her long, sharp nose to see who had disturbed her brooding reflections. Sure enough, it was Miss Bennet and her nephew, standing together and calling parting humorous remarks after the retreating figure of Georgiana, who laughed along with them. When the latter had disappeared into the house, Miss Bennet turned a conspiring glance toward Darcy and said something to him in a low voice, which made him chuckle and shake his head at her. The next moment, he offered her his arm and the two began to walk at a leisurely pace toward the wood, conversing animatedly all the while.

Lady Catherine turned from the window and began angrily pacing the length of the room. Something must be done, and at once, if Anne's future as the mistress of Pemberley was to be secured. Though Lady Catherine thought highly of her nephew, she also knew what men were, and did not trust him to withstand Miss Bennet's charms, despite how brazen they appeared to everyone else, or so thought her ladyship. Perhaps he did not intend to marry her, but a public scandal was inevitable if her ladyship did not step in at once, and the shame would certainly do Anne no good.

Therefore, Lady Catherine resolved to speak with the loathsome Miss Bennet upon the first opportunity.

* * *

That same afternoon, Miss Anne DeBourgh sat, quite still and silent, in the great armchair before the fireplace in the library. On her lap was a book, a novel to be exact, Miss Burney's latest story entitled Camilla. The volume belonged to her cousin Georgiana, who had lent it to her yesterday morning in secret, for Lady Catherine did not approve of novel reading. "The only purpose of such books is to encourage the ambitions of those of inferior birth and trifling connection," proclaimed her ladyship whenever the matter was addressed, and before Anne had always been careful to obey. But Georgiana had been so kind and so friendly when she offered the book, and Anne had wanted so much to read it, despite her mother's disapproval, that the prospect had proved too tempting to resist.

And so Anne had escaped her mother and the fear of encountering her terrifying cousin Darcy, hiding herself away in the library, with none but the fire and Camilla for company. For Anne, solitude was not unwelcome, but rather a blessing, and she cherished every moment afforded her.

But it was not to be enjoyed for long. She had not been sitting before the fire a full quarter of an hour when the library door opened to admit none other than Miss Bennet, her cheeks flushed with a healthy glow and her eyes bright, indications of having recently returned from out of doors.

"Oh! Forgive me for disturbing you, Miss de Bourgh. I did not think that anyone would be here."

Anne shrunk further back into the armchair, nodding indiscriminately in response to Miss Bennet's comment. She hoped that the intruder would thereby understand her desire to be left unaddressed, but Miss Bennet continued, smiling gaily at her.

"I am in search of a poetic collection Mr. Darcy and I were just discussing. We came to a disagreement upon one of the lines and I am determined to prove him wrong! But I'm afraid my case is hopeless unless I have the text to support my claims. I wonder, might you know where Mr. Darcy keeps his Cowper?"

Anne shook her head no, still unwilling to speak to Miss Bennet. Her mother had warned her against the young woman, told her that she was a presumptuous and impertinent flirt, and though Anne had never seen evidence of either in Miss Bennet, she was not inclined to displease her mother.

Miss Bennet had meanwhile crossed to the nearest bookcase and stooped to examine the bottom shelf. After a few minutes of rummaging about, Anne heard her cry of delight at finding the volume she sought.

"Here 'tis," she said, rising. "Now to the discovery of the verse. I'm afraid I've a poor memory for such things. Are you familiar with Cowper, Miss de Bourgh?"

"Not at all, Miss Bennet," murmured Anne, her voice scarcely above a whisper.

Miss Bennet smiled. "That is unfortunate, but no matter. I would recommend him highly. I enjoy his work very much. May I inquire what it is you are reading, Miss de Bourgh?"

Anne blushed, and raised the book in her lap so that Miss Bennet might see the cover. She'd expected her to scoff at her poor taste, but instead she smiled brightly and exclaimed, "Camilla! A work much talked of to be sure! And how do you like it, Miss de Bourgh?"

Anne's cheeks were aflame. "Very much."

"I have not yet read it myself, but my younger sisters assure me it is very thrilling indeed."

Anne returned Miss Bennet's playful smile uncomfortably, hoping her companion would realize that she wished to be alone and thus would quit the library. But far from coming to this realization, Miss Bennet instead crossed to the fireplace and took a seat beside Anne.

"You do not mind if I sit here a while to find the passage?"

"Of course not."

"Thank you." And with a friendly look for Anne, Miss Bennet then commenced her perusal of Mr. Cowper's poetry.

The next few minutes passed in silence, and though Miss Bennet was diligently searching for the text which addressed the point on which she had argued with Mr. Darcy, Anne, tormented by her shyness, found herself incapable of returning to her own reading. She watched Miss Bennet out of the corner of her eye, hoping desperately that she would not attempt to start a conversation. But even as she did so, Anne could not help but wonder what it would be like to see and experience the world as Miss Bennet did. She always seemed so easy in company, so confident of her own merit, so unafraid to speak her mind. These were freedoms Anne both dreaded and longed for, but could not decide which passion was the stronger.

"Ah ha! I have it!" Miss Bennet's merry laughter reverberated round the library. "I shall teach your distinguished cousin to cross me again, Miss de Bourgh, for here it is in print the very proof of my stance, and he is quite wrong to be sure!"

Anne offered a congratulatory smile, but said nothing. At this, the light in Miss Bennet's countenance dimmed and she turned a thoughtful look upon her companion.

"Miss de Bourgh, I'm afraid I have been very lax in my duty. This is the third day of your visit to Pemberley, is it not? and I have yet to become at all acquainted with you. I hope you do not mind my intrusion?"

Anne closed her book and laid it aside. "Not at all, Miss Bennet."

The young woman smiled. "I'm so glad. I am, perhaps, shamefully enamored with the sound of my own voice, and no doubt love to talk a great deal too much, but I should sadly miss the opportunity of your acquaintance if I allowed the chance to slip away. You are from Kent, I understand?"

"Indeed, Miss Bennet."

"I have heard the countryside is quite lovely there. Are you fond of walking? I should think that anyone possessed of such fine surroundings in which to live would be an avid walker."

Anne felt a flush of embarrassment color her usually sallow cheek. "I- I'm afraid- my health does not often permit me to do so."

But to Anne's relief, Miss Bennet did not raise her eyebrows in superiority at her admission, nor did she look on her with a patronizing pity. Rather, she merely replied, "That is unfortunate. But I suppose you may enjoy the beauty of your home just as well from a window near the top of the house overlooking the grounds."

How strange that Miss Bennet should touch upon the very method by which Anne best loved to spend her lonely hours. Many times she had climbed the steps to the fourth floor of the house, book in hand, and slipped into what had been her father's room as a boy. Then she'd situate herself as comfortably as possible in the window casing, and, ignoring the warnings of her mother, would open the window just a crack to take in the freshness of the breeze while she read. Those were pleasant hours, spent in the quiet happiness of an undemanding solitude.

Anne managed to return Miss Bennet's smile earnestly. "I am very fond of admiring the grounds of Rosings from a high window, Miss Bennet."

The warmth of Miss Bennet's looks spoke of her enthusiasm for the subject. "Nature's beauties are compelling even through the glass. I am glad your constitution does not impede your enjoyment of them."

Anne nodded simply, uncertain how to respond. But Miss Bennet cleared her of the responsibility, continuing in her friendly, companionable manner.

"I myself am very fond of walking, and take the opportunity to do so as often as possible. I find Derbyshire's lovely countryside to be full of wonderfully beautiful surprises. I am very sorry that I am to leave it tomorrow."

"You will return to Hertfordshire?"

"Yes. I have been away as long as can be, and my family is clamoring for my return. And speaking of my family, I have not yet had the opportunity to ask you what you think of my cousin, Mr. Collins. As I told Lady Catherine upon your arrival, I have never met him before and am eager to know the character of my father's heir. What can you tell me of him, Miss de Bourgh?"

Anne, whose heart had stopped beating wildly for fear of small talk and was beginning to relax in Miss Bennet's amicable presence, thought a moment about the clergyman. "Mr. Collins certainly means well," she asserted. "But perhaps he is a bit too eager to please my mother."

Miss Bennet smiled and thoughtfully tilted her head to one side in study of Anne's features. "How so?"

"He is always very careful to show her the utmost deference, and hangs upon her every word. If ever she interrupts him, his hand flies to his mouth as if to stop the trespassing words upon his lips."

Miss Bennet laughed. "It must be very gratifying for Lady Catherine to have such a devoted admirer!"

Anne smiled in spite of her mother, taking an unfamiliar delight in her companion's merriment. "Perhaps."

Miss Bennet went on in a slightly different strain. "I know her ladyship is very devoted to Miss Darcy. It is good of her to take such an interest in her niece."

"Yes, my mother is very fond of Georgiana."

"And you, Miss de Bourgh, are you close to your cousin?"

Her question brought to mind the subject of her mother's hopes for her future closeness to that cousin's brother, and Anne felt the color rise in her cheeks again. Her answer came in a soft voice. "Unfortunately no, Miss Bennet. I admire Georgiana very much, but we have never been very close. Perhaps we shall be in the future."

Miss Bennet smiled and nodded encouragingly. "Yes, do. Miss Darcy is a wonderful young lady, and I'm sure the two of you would get along splendidly. I am vastly glad to have made her acquaintance, for she is the sweetest creature in the world."

"I'm sure you are right."

"Do you often visit Pemberley, Miss de Bourgh?" asked Miss Bennet, placing a bookmark in her volume of Cowper and laying it aside.

Anne blushed again, painfully aware that there would be no way to answer the question without letting on to her mother's obvious and mortifying plot.

"We visit the Darcys quite often, and my cousin Darcy comes to Rosings with my cousin Colonel Fitzwilliam every year for Easter. Georgiana usually spends the holiday in London with members of our extended family there."

"Lady Catherine must truly value the company of Mr. Darcy, if she is so eager to spend time in his company."

Anne's cheeks were aflame. "She is quite fond of him."

Miss Bennet seemed insensible of the discomfort her innocent questions were causing her companion. "As well she should be, for Mr. Darcy is a fine gentleman. And I suppose you are fond of him as well. . . ?"

Anne twisted her hands anxiously in her lap. Surely Miss Bennet remembered her mother's indiscreet comment when they'd first arrived about the nature of her hopes for Darcy and Anne. Did she mean to test its base in reality? It was mortifying to Anne to think that Miss Bennet might be operating under the assumption that she was a snobbish and mercenary husband hunter only interested in her cousin's wealth and keeping it in the family.

"I am fond of my cousin Darcy, yes, but- well..."

Miss Bennet leaned forward, her features suddenly intent. "Yes?"

Anne sighed and willed herself to be calm. There was no reason to pour all her secrets and fears into Miss Bennet's lap, or to worry that she was in danger of her disapproval. After all, this was simply a friendly conversation in which to become acquainted.

"My cousin is a kind gentleman and in many ways like an elder brother, and I should be happy to think of him as such forever."

Miss Bennet's countenance seemed to relax and become calm again, and she smiled warmly at Anne. "I am perfectly willing to agree with you. I find Mr. Darcy to be a very amiable gentleman indeed."

It was easier to smile back now. "I am glad you think so well of him."

Miss Bennet's smile turned a trifle dreamy and she sighed almost imperceptibly. Anne began to wonder if her mother was right about Miss Bennet setting her cap at Darcy after all. But she could not imagine that this kind, compassionate young woman could have anything but pure motives. Perhaps she really was in love with Darcy, and if so, Anne would do everything in her power to promote the match.

Gathering her courage, Anne managed to bring herself to start a new topic of conversation, feeling strangely bold in Miss Bennet's friendly presence. "Yesterday, I overheard you and my cousin Georgiana in the music room at the pianoforte, Miss Bennet. Are you fond of playing?"

Miss Bennet's smile grew wide, as if she knew how rare it was for Anne to make inquires in a conversation, or say anymore than expected of her. "I am very fond of playing, Miss de Bourgh, but unfortunately I lack the discipline needed to make me a true proficient. However, your cousin has proven to be a tremendous example."

Anne smiled. "She is very skilled, and plays beautifully." She turned thoughtful. "I wish that my health had allowed me to learn."

Miss Bennet's face lit suddenly. "Why should you not learn now?"

Anne was unable to see her meaning. "I'm sorry?"

Miss Bennet laughed and stood. "Why should you not learn now? I have promised to meet Miss Darcy in the music room this afternoon at three o'clock to rehearse a duet with her. Come with me and we shall attempt to afford you with something of a lesson! It is almost three now- we may go over directly."

Anne rose uncertainly to her feet. "You're sure I shouldn't be an interruption?"

"Indeed no! To be sure, most of our 'rehearsing' is swallowed up in laughter as it is! We should love for you to join us. Please do. . ."

Anne eyed Camilla resting on the table and thought briefly of her anticipated solitary hours by the fire. Then she realized, much to her own surprise, that she had rather spend them in the company of enthusiastic, merry young ladies, so willing and eager to include her.

"Miss Bennet, I should be delighted to join you."

* * *

Elizabeth left the library with Miss de Bourgh, feeling extremely satisfied with herself. Not only had she come very near gleaning the information Darcy had desired her to discover, she had also succeeded in making a friend of Miss de Bourgh. With any luck, she would have the girl laughing and sporting a healthy glow in her cheeks by teatime.

"Are you fond of Mozart, Miss de Bourgh? Personally, I'm rather partial to Beethoven, but. . ."

"Miss Bennet."

Elizabeth turned from Miss de Bourgh with a start and realized that she was standing face to face with the young lady's mother. Lady Catherine had emerged silently from the sitting room, and now stood before Elizabeth looking very regal and full of righteous indignation. Elizabeth heard Miss de Bourgh gasp behind her and felt immediately angered that her ladyship should inspire such dread in her timid daughter.

"Lady Catherine," she acknowledged coldly with a tilt of her head.

"Anne, I thought you were in the library."

"Indeed, Mama, but. . ."

"Where are you taking my daughter, Miss Bennet?"

"To the music room, ma'am, and there to meet Miss Darcy."

"I see. . ." Lady Catherine studied Elizabeth's face with a kind of hostile scrutiny. Then she dictated, "Miss Bennet, I should like to have a word with you in the sitting room. Miss de Bourgh may find her way to the music room herself and make your apologies to Miss Darcy."

Elizabeth's eyebrows rose at this command, but knew that resisting would only cause her ladyship to grow more unpleasant. Best to have it out now, whatever it was Lady Catherine thought worthy of discussion. Reluctantly she turned to Miss de Bourgh, and the eyes of both young ladies spoke of apology and disappointment.

"Madam, I am at your disposal."

Miss de Bourgh fled down the hallway, and Elizabeth followed Lady Catherine solemnly into the sitting room, then closed the door behind them.

Lady Catherine did not sit, but rather began to pace resolutely back and forth, back and forth across the floor. Elizabeth, then, did not seat herself either, but kept her stance with her back to the doors, watching the color in her ladyship's visage rise and fall. Whatever was the woman about? Elizabeth was beginning to feel quite uncomfortable.

"You can hardly be in any doubt, Miss Bennet, why it is I have requested to speak with you."

Elizabeth was taken aback. "On the contrary, ma'am. I cannot account for your desire for a private conference with me, though I do not grudge it you. I wonder, what could your ladyship have to say to me?"

"Do not play at ignorance with me, Miss Bennet," replied Lady Catherine angrily. "I know too well your impertinent plot to capture my nephew! Can you deny it?"

Elizabeth was rendered speechless at her ladyship's accusation. How could she say anything so forward and presumptuous, even whilst accusing Elizabeth of being so? This was boldness indeed, and offensive to be sure. The thought tore at Elizabeth's heart and she felt a sudden sort of panic seize her. Was her regard for Darcy so obvious, even to his odious aunt?

"Lady Catherine, I must confess myself utterly amazed at your implication! I can only assure you that I intend no deception at all, and that my relationship with Mr. Darcy is only one of mutual admiration and friendship."

Her ladyship scoffed. "Bah! Do not image me to be a simpleton, Miss Bennet. I've seen the way you return his looks. Perhaps he is smitten with you now, but Darcy knows his duty and will do it, however you attempt to employ your arts and allurements to make him forget what he owes himself and all the family!"

Elizabeth flinched, trying desperately to hide the pain Lady Catherine's cruel remark had caused her. Yet she was even more surprised to find that her ladyship thought Darcy partial to her. Could it be- that afternoon on the hillside. . .? But now was not the time for such reflection. How was she to placate the woman? How to escape unscathed?

"Arts and allurements? This is what you call my friendship with your nephew? I must beg to differ, your ladyship."

Lady Catherine's indignation was acute. "You friendship, as you call it, Miss Bennet, can never take place. My daughter is engaged to Mr. Darcy! What have you to say to that?"

Here was proof indeed of Lady Catherine's hopes, but it was hardly the time, or Elizabeth's place to destroy them.

"Your ladyship, let us endeavor to behave as gentlewomen. It pains me to think you can accredit me with such mercenary, manipulative aims. That I think very highly of your nephew, I will gladly assert, but be assured, that is all." Even as she spoke the words, Elizabeth's heart called her a liar, but she would go on speaking, if only to convince herself of the unwelcome truth. "I am well aware that the- differences in our situations would make for an uneasy connection, and your ladyship need have no fear that I would prevail upon Mr. Darcy's kindness to me." She paused, then added almost solely to herself, "I respect him too much for that."

Lady Catherine's great eyebrows rose at this, and it seemed to somewhat calm her fury. "Do I have your word that this is true, Miss Bennet?"

Elizabeth sighed shakily. "Yes."

"Then I appear to have misjudged your conduct. But perhaps, it the future, it would do
you well to contain your vivacity, for fear of letting on an attachment where you feel no regard. Men are very dull creatures, and a few smiles and compliments from a young lady often prove too much for their vanity. They require absolute bluntness."

Despite her anger and frustration, Elizabeth could not help but smile to herself at this remark. "Thank you for the advice, Lady Catherine. I shall endeavor to abide by it."

"Yes. . ." A thought then seemed to come to her ladyship. "Miss Bennet, how was it that you happened upon my daughter this afternoon?"

"I was in search of a volume in the library, saw her reading before the fire, and we fell into conversation. Miss de Bourgh is a lovely girl."

This compliment was perhaps a stroke of genius on the part of Elizabeth, for no sooner had it escaped her lips than Lady Catherine seemed to forget her earlier displeasure and began to look upon her quite as if she had proved a promising young disciple from the start.

"Yes, indeed. Anne is possessed of some truly fine qualities. 'Tis a pity her delicate health prevents more individuals from being aware of them, but I am glad you were afforded with the opportunity to benefit from her acquaintance. I suppose you found her quite perceptive and intelligent."

Elizabeth smiled, aware that Lady Catherine amplified her daughter's merit in order to gratify herself, but was not unwilling to speak of her new acquaintance with fondness. "Oh, yes indeed. She is, perhaps, a very quiet girl, but she has a sweetness of temper and a concern for the well-being of others that is truly admirable. "

Lady Catherine smiled upon the "reformed" young woman, who was perhaps not so very horrid after all.

"You mentioned before that you were taking my daughter to the music room, Miss Bennet. I suppose you know that Anne has quite a natural inclination and talent for music."

"She expressed a desire to learn, your ladyship. Miss Darcy and I were to rehearse a duet this afternoon, and I invited Miss de Bourgh to join me that we might teach her a bit on the pianoforte."

Lady Catherine positively glowed. "How very kind of you, Miss Bennet! I'm sure you will find her an apt and willing pupil. But I detain you unduly. You must join them in the music room at once."

Relief washed over Elizabeth, and for the first time she was able to smile genuinely at her ladyship. "Thank you, Lady Catherine. I am very glad we were able to clear away our- misunderstanding."

In the delight of finding her daughter so praised and catered to, Lady Catherine had all but forgotten her previous indignation. "What? Oh, yes of course, the misunderstanding. Think nothing of it, my child, I'm sure you only mean well."

Elizabeth bobbed her ladyship a hasty curtsy and made her way for the door, but was called back again by the older woman's voice.

"Oh, and Miss Bennet?"

"Yes, ma'am?"

"I understand you and your aunt and uncle are to dine with us tonight. I shall have my niece sit you beside me at the table. I desire to know more of you."

Elizabeth's heart sank at the prospect of spending the entire evening, her last at Pemberley, listening to Lady Catherine's adages and wisdom, but knew she would do well to solicit her good opinion.

Smiling, she dropped another curtsy. "I should be delighted, your ladyship. Good afternoon."

* * *

For Elizabeth, dinner that evening proved to be an interesting affair. Seated to Lady Catherine's left as she presided over the foot of the table, and across from the once more silent Miss de Bourgh, their conversation, and indeed the conversation of the whole table, was chiefly dominated by her ladyship. She would know everything about Miss Bennet and her family, her mother, her sisters, even her father's income. She was determined that Anne and dear Miss Bennet should become the best of friends. And for an odd reason that Elizabeth could not quite make out, Lady Catherine also spent a great deal of time prattling away on the finer qualities of Mr. Collins.

"Yes, indeed, my dear, the finest clergyman that ever was seen, and so gentlemanly in his addresses. . ."

But Lady Catherine could not completely monopolize Elizabeth's attention, for her ladyship's nephew was doing his best to claim as much of it as possible from his place at the head of the table. The warm, silent looks fraught with meaning which he directed at her over the candlelight seemed to envelop Elizabeth, and certainly made it exceedingly difficult for her to keep her composure. Did he know she loved him? He must. But why did he torture her so? He knew that she would be gone upon the morrow- surely he did not mean to be cruel. But what did he mean? Elizabeth felt sure there was more then amicable kindness in his eyes, but did not dare to assume anything more lest she bruise her own heart with wishing for that which could never be. She sighed. The only cure for such distressing reflection was to pay closer heed to Lady Catherine's incessant comments and inquiries.

When the ladies had retired to the music room after dinner, Lady Catherine begged that Miss Bennet would play them something. Grateful for the distraction, Elizabeth was quick to comply.

She had been playing for about the length of ten minutes, and beginning to feel more like herself again, when the gentlemen entered. She was quickly joined at the pianoforte by Mr. Darcy, whilst the rest of the company settled into armchairs and began a rather subdued conversation, taking no notice of the two at the opposite end of the room. Elizabeth smiled up at Darcy, determined to enjoy every last minute of his company afforded her. When their glances met he returned her smile, and Elizabeth realized with surprise that his eyes were laughing silently at her. She shot him an inquisitive look.

"However do you do it, Miss Bennet?"

His question was an unexpected one, but it amused her. "Do what, sir?" she asked laughingly.

"You know perfectly well, madam. My aunt. How did she ever come to be so devoted to you? What sort of magic have you worked on her? I should dearly like to know."

Her desire to tease him growing, Elizabeth smiled archly back at Darcy and continued to play the innocent little piece before her. "Ah, but if I told you that, sir, I would be betraying a great feminine secret."

He laughed softly. "It has been my experience, Miss Bennet, that women are seldom secretive, and when they are, it is only for the pleasure of having someone extract the secret out of them."

She laughed heartily at this, and shook her head at him. "Cruel man. How remorselessly you destroy my resolve."

"Destruction was never so welcome. Please, you must tell me how you conquered the Great Fortress de Bourgh."

"For one who critiques the habits of women, sir, you certainly exhibit a great deal of feminine curiosity."

He smiled softly, and resting his hand on the pianoforte, leaned forward to bring his face closer to hers. "You tease me, Miss Bennet," he said, his voice low and intimate.

"Unabashedly, sir," she replied, matching his tones and meeting his eyes in mock defiance. "If only because you teased me first."

His lips parted in a smile, but his gaze never broke with hers, and Elizabeth, feeling warm and slightly dizzy all over again as she had that afternoon on the hillside, was beginning to think she could willingly, happily drown in those dark eyes. . .

"What are you telling Miss Bennet? I must have my share in the conversation!"

Elizabeth sighed impatiently at the unwelcome interruption, then nearly laughed aloud when she saw Darcy roll his eyes at his aunt's intrusion.

"Tis nothing of interest to you, madam," returned Darcy, straightening.

Lady Catherine ignored this, however, and addressed Miss Bennet. "Is my nephew monopolizing your attention, Miss Bennet? He is not boring you, I hope."

Elizabeth smiled with wicked playfulness up into Darcy's face, who looked down at her meekly and colored a bit. "Indeed no, madam. But if he becomes tedious, I will be sure to alert you immediately."

Her ladyship failed to see the humor of this remark. "Yes. . ." and she went back to advising Mrs. Gardiner on seeing to it that the proper apothecary was selected to cure her children's ailments.

"My pride is your very play thing, Miss Bennet," complained Darcy to his companion, when he was sure that his aunt's attention was once more diverted.

"Nonsense, sir." Then she laughed. "Would you like to hear what your aunt told me concerning a gentleman's pride this afternoon? It is very amusing."

Darcy rolled his eyes again. "Please, spare me. I have no doubt it is very profound and very ridiculous."

She laughed again. "Well, perhaps Lady Catherine is not a very promising philosopher, but she does mean well."

"Oh, does she? Perhaps in some things. But you have yet to tell me how you won her over. You will not keep me in suspense long, I hope, since I have admitted defeat and humbly begged your favor?"

"Will you flatter me into compliance then, sir?"

"If I must. As I have said, you have all but dispensed with my pride."

"And if I refuse to be flattered?"

"Then I will ask Lady Catherine to inform me of all the particulars."

Elizabeth's eyes grew wide. She cleared her throat and attempted to look approachable. "What would you like to know, sir?"

He smiled triumphantly and sat down beside her on the bench. "The history of the miraculous transformation of Lady Catherine de Bourgh, please. In detail."

Elizabeth could not help but return his smile, and beginning to play again, she told him of how she had happened upon and befriended Miss de Bourgh in the library, how they had been intercepted by Lady Catherine on their way to the music room, and the discomfort she had borne under her ladyship's displeasure, leaving out, of course, the part her listener had played in it, and only telling that she had been accused of impertinence and offensiveness of manner.

Darcy's brow furrowed. "She had the audacity to address you thus, in my home?"

"I doubt she thought her words audacious, sir," defended Elizabeth, taking her hands from the instrument.

"Then it is all the more distressing. Please, allow me to apologize on my aunt's behalf."

"You need not concern yourself, sir, for all is well. By some miracle of speech I was able to acquit myself in Lady Catherine's eyes, and when I began to speak highly of her daughter, there was nothing more I could do to endear myself to her ladyship."

"To be sure. But I am glad you have made a friend of my cousin, Miss Bennet. I must confess, she is so timid that I was uncertain whether you would succeed, but now I know better than to underestimate you."

She smiled. "It is by no merit of mine that she opened up to me. Miss de Bourgh is a sweet and lovely girl, and I think that all she lacks is the courage to speak. Once her initial awkwardness faded this afternoon, she was everything friendly and, if not easy, quite nearly so."

"Well, I'm sure you had more to do with that than you'll admit. But I doubt you thought your kindness would be thus rewarded by her ladyship."

"I confess I did not." Elizabeth laughed softly at the memory. "Before I knew it, she was requiring my presence beside her at dinner, and now she seems to have taken me on as her own private project- a rather mortifying prospect to say the least."

"Project? What do you mean?"

"To marry me off advantageously, I suppose. The way she went on about my cousin Mr. Collins this evening makes me think he is the lucky man."

Darcy looked disgusted. "Well, I hope he feels his luck." Then he was silent, but Elizabeth's heart fluttered a little at his remark, though she knew she must refuse to give it merit. She would be in a carriage bound for Hertfordshire by tomorrow afternoon, and to encourage the attachment she felt would only make the separation more painful.

As if he had read her thoughts, Darcy asked quietly, "Will you call tomorrow before you go?"

Elizabeth nodded silently, not trusting herself to speak. "Yes," she managed when she had found her voice, "I promised your sister I would come to see her before I went."

"And myself- you will not leave before I have seen you, wished you a safe journey and bid you farewell?"

She smiled sadly as she met his pleading gaze. "No. No, I will not depart before I have seen you." She swallowed the lump in her throat. "I could not."

He seemed to sigh, as if in grateful relief, and gently taking hold of the hand that rested on her knee, pressed it fondly in his. "Bless you for that."

Chapter Seven

Posted on Monday, 2 December 2002, at 12:10 a.m.

That evening, when the guests from Lambton had gone and all of Pemberley was still and silent, Darcy was finding it hard to be the same. Elizabeth Bennet was haunting him, refusing to let loose her hold on his thoughts or his heart. Her laughter seemed still to ring in the very walls; the memory of her dark, fine eyes transfixed him even in their absence. The dining room, the sitting room, the music room- all filled with the memory of her warmth and wit, her gentleness and her beauty. How could he bear it?

She would leave tomorrow. Tomorrow the fairy story would end, and he would be without her again, troubled and alone- only this time, he would know how unspeakably wonderful it had been to be otherwise.

His brow furrowed, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, Darcy stalked down the silent corridors of Pemberley, with none but his thoughts for companions in the dark. He had made no effort to retire, for he knew as soon as he had handed Elizabeth into the carriage that night that she had taken his heart and his every thought back to Lambton with her-- with her face before his mind's eye, rest would be impossible.

Elizabeth. She had been so called in his thoughts since that second afternoon on the hillside by the pond. Now he wished fervently that he had kissed her, had claimed her that he might keep her. Sighing almost roughly, he realized there was nothing in all the world he wanted so much as to keep her. But she would go, and he was powerless to detain her.

The painful thought stopped Darcy in his purposeful stride, and he leaned for a moment against the nearest window pane. Looking out over the estate, bathed in an ethereal moonlight, he tried to quiet the racing of his thoughts and form some sort of resolve.

That he loved her with a passionate devotion despite the brevity of their acquaintance, he could be in no doubt. That he would be a fool to let her slip from his grasp forever, Darcy was likewise certain. But how to prevent it? He couldn't very well declare himself tomorrow as she took her leave- what would she think? Would any sensible young woman place her trust in the professions of attachment made by a gentleman she had known for little more than a week? One who thought so was a simpleton. But how else to let her know?

Perhaps an opportunity would present itself. He would attempt to maneuver a private interview with Elizabeth before she left. It had been arranged that evening that he would send his carriage for her the next morning, so that she and Georgiana might spend the last day of her holiday together. Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner were to come for her by public coach in the afternoon. There was sure to be some interval between her arrival and departure in which to speak with her privately. He would tell her that he valued their acquaintance greatly and that he desired it should continue; if the chance to imply his deeper feelings presented itself, he would snatch it up, but would be careful not to offend or overwhelm her. He had overheard Elizabeth suggest to his sister that evening that they keep a correspondence, and if all else failed, that small connection would be vastly preferable to none at all.

With a last, lingering look out into the darkness that enveloped Pemberley, Darcy moved away from the window and determined it was time to go to bed. Though he had no great hope of sleeping for long, it would do no good to go sulking about the house all evening. There was nothing more to be done tonight, and he was confident that he had laid out for himself the best course of action. For now, he could only hope that all would be well.

* * *

"How I wish you did not have to go away."

The two girls sat side by side on the bench before the pianoforte, both staring with a touch of melancholy down at her hands. Elizabeth sighed softly. "And I as well."

"Surely your family may spare you a while yet, Elizabeth," entreated Georgiana, for she was very anxious indeed to keep her friend from leaving. The two young ladies' affection for each other had grown so over the course of the week that by Monday they addressed each other by their Christians names, and by Wednesday had promised to correspond religiously when parted.

"I'm afraid I have stayed too long already, and my father is quite anxious for my return. Indeed, even if I dared to displease him, it would be of little consequence, for my uncle's business insists that he return to Town before the week is out. But were I free to choose, I would gladly stay here with you." She smiled at her companion. "Perhaps I should take you back to Hertfordshire with me, Georgiana."

The girl returned her friend's smile wistfully. "And I'm sure I should be delighted to follow, but I must be in London next week."

"London? What takes you there?"

"My education. Or so my brother says. I am becoming convinced that he is determined to bury me in books."

Elizabeth laughed. "Well, I shall write to you often in hopes of providing you with more entertaining reading. But in return, you must promise to tell me at length about all the rich and handsome young men you meet in Town!"

Georgiana laughed too. "That I shall. You may make all your sisters wild with envy." Her countenance turned serious, and she asked hopefully, "Will you be in London at any time during the season?"

Elizabeth shook her head regretfully. "I have made no plans to be there at any great length, but since my aunt and uncle reside in London, I am likely to visit them briefly at one time or another. If you are in town I shall call upon you."

Georgiana smiled and ran her fingers lightly over the keys of the pianoforte, halfheartedly playing her part of the piece the two had just set aside. "I should like that very much."

"Will your aunt and Miss de Bourgh stay long after you have returned to town?"

"It is difficult to say. If Lady Catherine thinks she has made a dent in my brother's armor, she will stay forever in hopes of seeing her efforts bear fruit, but if she is frustrated, she is likely to return to Kent within a week or so of my departure. One never knows, and one is certainly powerless to persuade her." Georgiana took her hands from the keyboard and looked apologetically at her friend. "I am very sorry she was so horrid to you, Elizabeth. You bore it remarkably well, but it must have been awkward at times, and for that I must ask your pardon."

Elizabeth smiled contemplatively and fixed her gaze toward the window which revealed the prospect of a fine summer day without. "It is of little consequence. I thank you for your concern, but you needn't worry." She laughed. "Your brother has already made a plethora of apologies to me on that score, and I am perfectly satisfied, I assure you."

Georgiana returned her smile. "Good. I should hate to have you leave thinking her a great beast of a woman."

Elizabeth laughed heartily. "No, indeed! Though perhaps her grand pheasant plumage does lend itself quite readily to that interpretation!"

The two girls laughed merrily together, delighting in the conspiring confidence of friendship. Elizabeth wished, not for the first time that day, that there was no need to part so soon, that they might continue playing duets and laughing at Lady Catherine's absurdities forever. But such delights were in the habit of ending as quickly as they had begun, and it was best to laugh whilst one could.

Their merriment was interrupted by a knock on the door of the music room.

"Come in," called Georgiana, her voice still somewhat broken by laughter.

Miss de Bourgh slipped quietly inside. Elizabeth was pleased to note that there was color in her cheeks, and that she was looking almost cheerful.

"Good afternoon, Miss de Bourgh," she greeted over the pianoforte.

Miss de Bourgh gave Elizabeth a friendly nod. "And to you, Miss Bennet, Georgiana."

The latter smiled at her cousin. "Have you come for another lesson, Anne?"

The hint of a smile formed on Miss de Bourgh's lips. "I am afraid not, though I did enjoy yesterday afternoon very much. I am sent to fetch you, Georgiana, for my mother requires your presence in the drawing room immediately."

Georgiana looked disappointed. "Immediately?"

"Indeed."

"Very well." She turned to Elizabeth. "I do not know for how long my aunt will require me, but I beg you would not even dream of departing before I have had the chance to say a proper goodbye."

Elizabeth smiled and pressed her friend's hand affectionately. "I shall wait eagerly for your return, and will not stir until then."

Satisfied, Georgiana rose from the bench and, with a smile for her cousin and Elizabeth, left the music room in search of Lady Catherine. When she had disappeared into the hall, Elizabeth turned a smile on Miss de Bourgh and began collecting into piles the music resting on the instrument.

"And how are you this afternoon?"

"Very well, thank you, though I am sad to see you go."

Elizabeth sighed and stood. "It appears that all pleasant things must end and that my departure is imminent, but I shall always remember my time in Derbyshire and at Pemberley with the greatest pleasure. I only regret that you and I had not more time in which to become acquainted." She placed the music in a neat stack atop the pianoforte.

Miss de Bourgh smiled and nodded in agreement to Elizabeth's comment. "How kind you are to say so. I too am disappointed not to have the chance to further our acquaintance. But perhaps we may meet in the future."

"I shall look forward to the prospect. And perhaps, if you are willing, we may even continue our lessons at the pianoforte!"

Miss de Bourgh colored but was pleased with the suggestion. "Indeed. I must thank you again for your joint tutelage with my cousin yesterday afternoon, Miss Bennet. I enjoyed myself very much."

Elizabeth smiled, happy to have afforded her pupil with some small pleasure before sending her back to her authoritarian mother. "I am glad. Though I'm sure you would benefit much more from Miss Darcy's instruction than from mine. Her gifts and abilities far exceed my own."

"You're too modest, I'm sure."

Elizabeth laughed at herself. "Modesty is precisely what I lack, Miss de Bourgh."

Her companion smiled softly, almost to herself, and turned her gaze thoughtfully toward the window. "Well, you possess a great deal of worth in my eyes."

Elizabeth was greatly touched by Miss de Bourgh's compliment, and surprised that she had summoned the courage to utter it. There was indeed more depth to the girl than she was anxious to let on in company, and far more genuinely fine qualities about her than even her laudatory mother credited her with. Elizabeth wondered how her ladyship could miss them, and in their stead invent attributes for Miss de Bourgh to rave on and on about, attributes everyone knew her daughter was completely without. But then again, Elizabeth's own mother tended to look past her greater qualities and fuss over the shallower ones- a pretty face and a merry disposition.

"Thank you, Miss de Bourgh," acknowledged Elizabeth warmly. "You are a lovely person yourself, and I eagerly await the opportunity to know more of you. I hope it shall be granted us very soon."

Miss de Bourgh had just opened her mouth to reply when her cousin Mr. Darcy, quite unannounced, entered the room. His countenance slightly colored and his dark curls rather tousled, it was obvious Darcy had just returned from out of doors. His eyes, after a brief moment of searching, quickly found Elizabeth's, and as she returned his gaze, she marveled at how hastily everything else could be forgotten. The look of infinite promise in those eyes made her wish desperately that there was some way by which to delay her inevitable departure, anything rather than tear herself away from him now.

Darcy saw the emotion flicker across her face, and while discerning regret there, was unable to determine its source. Failing to notice his cousin standing beside the door, he allowed himself full perusal of Elizabeth's beloved countenance. Was she sorry to go, or did she regret inviting the deepening of their acquaintance? Did she sense his regard and feel mortified at the prospect that she had unwittingly encouraged it? Her looks offered him no answer, but the intensity of his attentions unconsciously communicated to their subject that he was far from indifferent to her.

"Mr. Darcy." She acknowledged him with a nod of her head, feeling rather flushed and uncomfortable under the warmth of his eyes.

"Miss Bennet, there is something I would. . ."

"Your cousin and I have been enjoying a lovely talk," interrupted Elizabeth, knowing he had missed the presence of his cousin and eager to stop him from saying anything that might embarrass all three of them. "Haven't we, Miss de Bourgh?"

Miss de Bourgh, as per usual, was paralyzed with fright in the presence of her cousin, and having gone quite pale, could only manage to stutter, "Indeed, Miss Bennet."

The realization that he had not been alone with Elizabeth after all startled Darcy a little, but he was quick to regain his composure. "Ah. How nice. Hello, Anne."

"Cousin Darcy. . . Please, I beg you both would excuse me." And before Elizabeth could detain her, Miss de Bourgh fled into the hall.

When Darcy had fixed his looks again on Elizabeth, however, she began to understand his cousin's anxiety. How she had dreaded this last encounter with him, for she knew it could be naught but painful. It mattered not to what extent he returned her feelings- it was impossible that any understanding should be reached between them, for an acquaintance of barely more than a week was no basis for two persons to enter into such an understanding, or even to proclaim a steady affection for each other. But try as she would, Elizabeth could not ascribe her feelings to the mere fickleness of her heart, as desperately as she wished to, and as if to spite herself, she could not help but think him the best man of her acquaintance. And so she must rely on Darcy to be sensible, for if he was not, she would surely be powerless to resist him. . .

The strength of Darcy's emotions had been sobered significantly by the presence of his cousin, and now that she was gone, he looked on Elizabeth with a sort of embarrassed civility. Having remembered himself, he realized it would hardly be wise to stammer out a declaration before he had even extended a greeting to her. Best to begin again.

"And how do you fare this afternoon, Miss Bennet?"

She smiled gently back at him, and Darcy was relieved to see the friendly confidence return to her expression. "Very well, sir."

"You have had a pleasant time in the company of my sister, I hope?"

"Yes, indeed, though perhaps we suffered a little from melancholy."

"Of course. You should not wish to be parted, I know. We are very sorry to lose you."

Elizabeth suddenly felt as if she had rather discuss anything other than the necessity to depart. "Pray, sir, let us not speak of it."

"No?"

"No. You are very kind to lament my departure, I'm sure, but I had rather not dwell on it- especially with one for whom I have such. . . well, let us talk of something else."

Darcy hardly knew what she meant by this cryptic response, but was unwilling to consider what she meant to imply, and so consented to her request.

"By all means, Miss Bennet."

An uncomfortable pause followed this remark, in which both parties searched despairingly for something neutral to say to the other. But every option seemed to trigger a memory, a moment tied too strongly to some depth of feeling, and in their confusion, Elizabeth and Darcy remained quite dumb. At last, Elizabeth stumbled on something harmless to say.

"How unfortunate that Miss de Bourgh should have seen fit to leave us just now, sir. I find I grow increasingly fond of her company with each encounter."

Darcy, relieved at the opportunity for a trivial exchange, nodded in response. "I am glad to hear you say so. I find my cousin, in many ways, to be much like my sister. But it is unfortunate that the natural shyness and gentleness of temper that they share should be such a burden in my cousin's case, with her illness and her- life at home."

Elizabeth smiled to herself, a little amused at his attempt to find a suitable euphemism for his aunt. "Yes, I can see that you are right. It is a pity, but I am sure Miss de Bourgh does not wish to be the object of charity. The best thing to do for her, I feel, is to befriend her, and treat her with the same kindness and attention one shows to everyone else, if not more so."

Darcy smiled in admiration for her. "You are very wise, Miss Bennet."

She laughed softly and took a few companionable steps toward him. "Not nearly as wise as I should like to be."

As if to prove her point for her, Darcy caught Elizabeth's gaze and held it, and with such warmth and feeling that she felt herself quite unable to turn away. Darcy's throat went dry when he saw that she was returning his looks with an intensity that mirrored his own. How easy it would be now to tell her how ardently he longed for her affections, to declare himself recklessly, throw himself upon her mercy. But such behavior was hardly dignified, and he knew only too well that patience and not passion would take his suit farther in the end. Indeed, there was still far too much to be said between them before he could reveal his attachment.

A flush of embarrassment creeping across her cheek, Elizabeth turned away and fixed her eyes out the window. A foolish compulsion to talk of the weather seized her, and she began lamely, "How glad I am it has not rained. I was rather afraid it would when I saw the clouds this morning. . ."

"Miss Bennet. . ."

"Of course, why should one expect rain in July? How silly of me to fear it. . ."

"Miss Bennet. . ."

"But it has been rather warm these past few days, and I'm sure a bit of rain would not be wholly unwelcome. . ."

"Miss Bennet. . ."

"And really, when one considers. . ."

Darcy, despite all his feelings of frustration, suddenly found the situation very amusing, and began to laugh softly at her. Elizabeth, who had been quite preoccupied with distracting her thoughts and concocting trivial observations on the weather, was rather confused at the evidence of his merriment.

"Pray, sir, what do you find so amusing?"

He smiled at her. "Forgive me, Miss Bennet, but your commentary on the weather just now was so charming that I could not help myself."

Elizabeth colored at looked at her feet. "You must think me very silly, indeed, sir."

He smiled amiably at her, inviting her confidence. "If I thought you a silly creature, Miss Bennet, I should hardly have encouraged you to form an acquaintance with my sister."

She smiled gratefully at him, her embarrassment nearly forgotten in his kindness. "Well, I am very glad you did."

He returned her smile. "The pleasure was all mine, madam."

The tension between them seemed now to have quite dissipated, and Darcy was relieved to once more share an easy understanding with her, as if they had been great friends for years and there was no cause for discomfort to plague their conversation. And yet, this companionable confidence was almost ironic, for he knew he could never be content until she gave him more than just her friendship.

For herself, Elizabeth was relieved that they had returned to easiness again, and was eager to make the most of what would likely be their last opportunity for private conversation. She was determined not to let her sensibilities intrude upon pleasure of this last interview. A teasing light in her eyes, she threw Darcy a mischievous smile.

"Whilst we are on the subject of your admirable family, sir, I might take the opportunity to inquire after your aunt. I was quite expecting to be ambushed upon my arrival this morning, but continue to be surprised by her ladyship's absence. What can she mean by it do you think?"

Darcy shook his head and rolled his eyes, but on his lips a small smile of amusement was hovering. "Your guess is as good as mine, I fear, Miss Bennet, for I rose early this morning and was out of the house before her ladyship had so much as stirred."

Elizabeth laughed at him. "And am I to believe such an action to have been completely devoid of design?"

He smiled guiltily, a full though wordless admission of his transgression. "You are entirely too perceptive for the good of your companions, Miss Bennet."

She flashed him a bright smile, full of teasing. "No indeed, sir! I only speak from common experience. I, like yourself, cannot plead innocent to the charge of escaping the house early in the morning in hopes of avoiding the company of trying relations."

Darcy looked at her incredulously. "I assume it is not your aunt, as it is in my case, that troubles you. I can scarce imagine the amiable Mrs. Gardiner a person from whom you should like to escape!"

"Of course not. But it does not follow, sir, that I have not other aunts who inspire such feelings in me as her ladyship does in you. We are not all restricted to one aunt, you see Mr. Darcy, and think how dull life should be if we had only amiable ones!"

Darcy laughed in earnest at this, and Elizabeth felt a kind of delighted contentment in his merriment and the knowledge that she was the source of it. How she wished that this was not the last afternoon she would hear him laughing with her, that she was not condemned to an indefinite period of waiting and hoping after today. Why must such lovely things come to an end?

"And what is it about this other aunt, Miss Bennet, that makes you so desirous of escaping her company?"

Smiling, Elizabeth felt her wit rise to the challenge. "Merely that she is a great talker, delights in nothing so much as a savory piece of gossip, and is more adamant about marrying me off even than is your dear aunt, Lady Catherine. But for these small objections, I find I can bear her company tolerably well."

"If that be the case, Miss Bennet, I see that we must all endeavor to remain in the highest part of your favor, lest we be exposed to a thorough lashing from your tongue."

She laughed. "Forgive me, sir, for I am prone to speak with more feeling than I truly intend. You may be assured that it should take a great deal of bad manners on your part to merit your fall from my favor."

"I am pleased to hear it."

"Indeed, sir, in my estimation, you rank even above the perfection that Lady Catherine assures me is personified in Mr. Collins."

Darcy shook his head at the mention of his aunt's prattling. "Why anyone who sounds so remarkably tedious could possibly have made such an impression, I can only wonder."

Elizabeth smiled at him in a playful conspiracy. "But you are inattentive to your aunt's speeches, dear sir. Anyone paying heed to them might well believe that poor Mr. Collins quite worships at her ladyship's feet."

"Well, you must promise me at any rate not to waste yourself on my aunt's puppy."

Elizabeth laughed at his brooding comment, which was more of a statement than a request. "I believe I may safely promise you, sir, never to succumb to Mr. Collins."

"I am vastly happy to hear it, Miss Bennet. You are quite the most sensible of your sex."

"Oh I hope not, sir. Life without girlish whims and foolish fancies would be almost as monotonous as life without interfering aunts!"

"So long as either factor does not lead you into a wretched case of matrimony, I am content."

"How kind you are to look after me so, sir. But you need have no fear on my account. I know perfectly well I should make a horrid clergyman's wife."

Darcy laughed and leaned an elbow against the pianoforte. How lovely she was when she smiled archly at him as she did now. "And how have you reached that conclusion, my dear madam?"

Her merry laughter rang once more, filling his ears. "On a very shallow basis, I'm afraid. I should fail as a clergyman's wife due to the simple fact that I despise small talk and the large tea parties at which it is rampant, and in such a position, I should be required to endure a great many of them."

"But surely, Miss Bennet, you should be required to give tea parties no matter what sort of gentleman you ally yourself with."

She sighed rather melodramatically. "Alas, sir, I am quite sensible of that."

Darcy was seized by the desire to venture a suggestive comment. "Then perhaps you would prefer a gentleman who resides much in the country for your husband, here in Derbyshire for instance, as it is unlikely the two of you should keep much company there."

Elizabeth's eyes flew to his at the remark, then quickly looked away as she colored in embarrassment. Surely he did not mean. . . dare she hope? No, no, of course not. He was making light conversation, and that was all, teasing her. Surely he knew enough of her feelings for him and respected her sufficiently to avoid a needless encouragement of her attachment.

And yet, she could not resist the desire to probe, to know for certain his implication, or indeed if he intended to imply anything, and though she knew his answer could be naught but painful to herself, she would ask him all the same. "Indeed, sir? Have you any young men in mind whom I ought to consider?"

Darcy had not expected his boldness to be returned after the pretty flush had arisen in her cheek, nor could he say truthfully that it displeased him. Once more the fervent desire to kiss her became almost overwhelming, but he would not gratify his selfish wishes before he could be sure of her. But how was any man in his right mind to refuse so irresistible an invitation? Surely now was the perfect opening to what he had been longing to say to her.

When he replied, his voice was low but steady, and he held her eyes captive with his. "Miss Bennet, I cannot believe you to be completely ignorant of the answer to your question."

Elizabeth quite forgot to breathe. In a moment, she should be swooning like the heroines of Kitty's romantic novels. The task of keeping her composure under the warmth of his looks was quite impossible. She turned from him, ashamed of her forward remark, and took a seat in an armchair near the pianoforte.

Folding her hands placidly in her lap, Elizabeth managed to still her fluttering heart sufficiently to offer him a sweet smile and reply lightly, "Of course, since the parsonage at Hunsford is conveniently nestled in the heart of Kent, Mr. Collins' future wife may not expect the necessity to entertain a great deal of company often after all. Perhaps I should give my cousin's prospects further thought before crossing him off my list of eligible beaux."

But Darcy would not be put off. No sooner were the words out of her mouth then he had taken the seat next to her on the divan adjacent to the armchair in which she sat. The look in his face made Elizabeth quite forget her attempts to tease him, and she found herself treasonously wishing beyond all reason that he would make her an offer. Facing her he said earnestly, "Please, Miss Bennet, you cannot be ignorant, surely, that I admire you a great deal."

The blush raged in Elizabeth's cheek and she averted her eyes from the intensity of his gaze, staring resolutely at her hands. The sound of his quick, light breathing roared in her ears and fell into a rhythm with the thundering beats of her own heart. It was too much. Did not he know that this was a hopeless situation? Why should he encourage her foolish sensibilities?

"How kind you are to compliment me with your praise, sir. Please allow me to say that you have earned my admiration as well. Indeed, it is with the greatest disappointment that I am obliged to give up our acquaintance and return to Hertfordshire."

His reply came quickly upon her words, his voice fervent. "Do you really mean that?"

Elizabeth looked into his face in confusion, a little hurt that he had seemed to take her expression of regret as mere social pleasantries. "Of course I do. Why should you doubt me?"

Darcy shook his head, angry with himself for having upset her. "Forgive me, Miss Bennet, I spoke hastily just now. It's only that I- I am very much. . ."

"Yes?" asked Elizabeth in a half-whisper of encouragement.

He sighed, and on an impulse, against his better judgment, he reached for her hand and held it affectionately between his own. Knowing that should he pause to think he might lose his resolve, Darcy plunged onward. "I should like you to know, Miss Bennet, that I care very much that your opinion of me be a favorable one, and am anxious to know that you return my- friendly regard."

Elizabeth's heart sunk. So he felt only friendship for her. But did she really think he could offer her anymore? "Indeed, sir, my friendship has been yours for the asking, and I give it to you willingly and with pleasure. You may always have it."

He pressed her hand, smiling a little wistfully. "Sweet and innocent lady. How surprised would you be to know what I truly desire."

Elizabeth felt an urgent need to gasp for breath. Her heart, which a moment ago ached with the pangs of disappointment, now began to pound as if it would beat its way out of her chest. But her voice was low, deceptively calm when she found it to speak. "And what is that?"

Darcy was intoxicated by her, no longer under his own powers. He brought her hand to his lips and leaning closer, he caught her eyes and held them resolutely. "You know that I am far from indifferent to you, Elizabeth."

Her Christian name slipped from his lips almost without a thought, and yet it did not seem unnatural, nor offensive for him to address her so informally. Surprise registered in her lovely dark eyes, but a moment later a soft, warm smile spread over her lips and Darcy knew his familiarity had been far from distasteful to her.

Elizabeth's head was swimming. He was doing away with her reason again, confound him, but in spite of herself she could not be totally adverse to this. Her previous anxiety was quite forgotten and she had no thought beyond the next moment.

"I would not have you indifferent to me, sir."

This was beyond Darcy's powers of self-control, and with a lingering glance at her lovely mouth, he looked back into her eyes as if to seek her approval. Elizabeth, too full of her feelings for him to resist, could not help but consent. Seeing that she did not start or turn away, Darcy smiled softly at her, and daring to take her cheek in the palm of his hand, he bent in order to brush his lips against hers.

But once again, their passion was interrupted. Before either party had so much as closed an eye, footsteps and the sound of voices conversing were heard from the hall, causing the pair to immediately jump apart. Darcy sprang to his feet and turned from her, cursing his ill-fortune, while Elizabeth sat flushed and confused in the armchair, a great deal too moved to stir from her place. How could such a thing happen again?

A moment later, the door flew open to admit an agitated Georgiana and the Gardiners, who had just arrived from Lambton. Georgiana appeared to be quite disappointed, and without so much as a word for her brother she rushed to Elizabeth and knelt beside her chair.

"Oh my dear friend! Here are your aunt and uncle to take you back to Hertfordshire. I have begged them to stay for tea but they will not be persuaded. Please, you must lend your voice to my argument, for I could not abide by losing you so soon!"

Elizabeth shook her head a little to clear it, and for a moment was unable to comprehend Georgiana's appeal through the mist that seemed to be clouding her thinking. She was relieved that her friend seemed insensible of her confusion and embarrassment, and as soon as she was able, she replied, "Indeed, Georgiana, though I truly wish we were able to stay even a little longer, I fear my aunt and uncle are right. We must be half way to London by this evening, and to do so we must leave within the hour."

"Oh!" Georgiana took her friend's hands in her own and the two girls rose to their feet together. "I suppose it cannot be helped, but the situation is unfortunate indeed." Turning a look over her shoulder, Georgiana appealed to her brother. "Is it not, Fitzwilliam?"

Darcy, who had somewhat regained his composure after being so cruelly disappointed, managed to agree with his sister in an unwavering voice. "To be sure. But we must not interfere with Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner's plans, Georgiana."

Mr. Gardiner smiled amicably, as was his custom. "We are sorry to deny you the pleasure of Elizabeth's company, Miss Darcy, but so it must be." He then extended his hand to Darcy in his typical good-natured fashion. "Please allow me to thank you, sir, for your kindness and hospitality. We have enjoyed our visit tremendously."

Darcy shook Elizabeth's uncle's hand warmly. "The pleasure was entirely my own, sir."

Mr. Gardiner chuckled, and to Elizabeth it seemed that surely there must be some secret twinkle of amusement in his eyes. "I'm glad to hear it, Mr. Darcy." He turned to his wife and niece. "Well, ladies, the carriage awaits and I'm afraid we must be off."

But Darcy was not quite willing to let Elizabeth slip away yet. "By all means. But please, allow my sister and me to show the three of you out."

"With pleasure, Mr. Darcy. Thank you."

Mr. Gardiner secured the arm of his wife and the two led the way out to the front drive. Georgiana was quick to anticipate her brother in taking Elizabeth's arm and pulled her along after her aunt and uncle. With an unexpected pang in his chest, Darcy watched as the two women in the world most precious to him walked arm in arm though Pemberley's great hall, and hoped fervently that it should not be the last time he should see them so.

* * *

"Dearest Georgiana. How I am loathe to part with you."

The party was gathered round the carriage waiting to take the Gardiners and their niece back to Hertfordshire, and Elizabeth stood, decked in her bonnet and traveling things, her hands placed affectionately in Georgiana's, bidding her a fond farewell while her aunt and uncle expressed their gratitude to their host. Georgiana's sweet blue eyes were clouded with a hint of melancholy, but she managed a soft smile for her friend as the summer breeze played with her fair curls.

"We shall be very desolate without you, dear Elizabeth, but I shall look forward most keenly to your letters."

Elizabeth smiled. "And I to yours. We must vow to be religious in our correspondence! And you must promise me to continue to develop your friendship with Miss de Bourgh, for there is no one in the world who so requires it. You will be kind to her, will you not Georgiana?"

Her companion nodded. "Of course. I am determined that we should be great friends."

"I am very glad to hear it. It will please your brother very much to know that you desire to become close to your cousin."

Georgiana smiled sweetly. "Then how could I do any less, if I am to please both you and him in doing so? There is no greater happiness in the world."

Elizabeth laughed. "Your devotion is truly admirable, my dear girl, and I see that I must endeavor to deserve it."

Georgiana smile softened. "You will always have it."

Elizabeth kissed her friend's cheek affectionately. "And you shall always be possessed of mine, my very dear friend."

Georgiana nodded silently, and then, as if on an impulse, she stood on her toes and whispered into Elizabeth's ear, "I hope very much to one day call you my sister, dearest Elizabeth."

Elizabeth was astonished at Georgiana's boldness and looked on her friend in amazement, but was delayed from asking her meaning by the sound of Darcy's voice. "Georgiana, come bid the Gardiners farewell."

With a heartfelt parting look for Elizabeth, Georgiana released her hands and went to exchange her goodbyes with the Gardiners. As a gentle summer breeze picked up once more and toyed with Elizabeth's frock and the ribbons on her bonnet, she contemplated how Georgiana could have ascertained that there was anything between herself and Mr. Darcy, and it arose in her a sort of simultaneous hope and dread. Could it really be true that Darcy's apparent attraction to her was strong enough for him to consider marriage? Had he truly meant to ask her just now in the music room? Did she dare to entertain such a hope?

"Miss Bennet."

Elizabeth's reflections were broken by the voice of their subject. Endeavoring to stem the rising color in her cheeks, Elizabeth brushed aside the curls blown into her view by the breeze and she raised her eyes to meet his.

"Mr. Darcy. This is farewell, I'm afraid."

"Yes. Alas that it should be so. You will be very much missed here, Miss Bennet, as I think you know."

"You are very kind, sir. I will remember you and your dear sister with great fondness. I will always think on my time at Pemberley as one of the loveliest in my life. I am excessively sorry to leave it."

A bird sang in a nearby tree, and it seemed monstrously unfair to Elizabeth that it should be broadcasting its happiness while she herself felt so melancholy. If only he had kissed her in the music room- surely he must have some feeling for her! But she mustn't ruin this parting with foolish sensibilities, especially when it was uncertain when they should meet again.

"You are too good, Miss Bennet. I wish heartily that you and your aunt and uncle might have stayed longer with us. But I know better than to stand between you and your family. I suppose they are very anxious to see you returned safely."

"Yes. And I am anxious to see my parents and all my sisters again. No doubt they shall have a great many things to tell me when I return, and I to share with them."

Darcy smiled. "Then I hope you shall give us a fair report."

The corners of Elizabeth's lips curled almost unwillingly into a smile. "You may be sure of that, sir. Though I may have to warn them against the noble Lady Catherine de Bourgh."

"But surely you will have much to say on the topic of your good cousin Mr. Collins, who was so vastly praised by that same lady!"

Elizabeth laughed softly. "If I were do that, sir, my mother should have me married to him before the week was out!"

Darcy smiled, taking pleasure in the sound of her laughter and the delicate color the sun brought out in her cheeks. "Well, we must avoid that at all costs." He looked down at his feet a moment, collecting his thoughts. He was overwhelmed with the desire to communicate his attachment to her and equally discouraged with the knowledge that it was most certainly too late. Why must she go? Why could she not stay forever? When he raised his eyes to hers again he saw that they were contemplative, far away from himself, and instantly, if a bit foolishly, he felt very envious of the object of her thoughts.

"What are you thinking of, Miss Bennet?"

She smiled thoughtfully and turned her gaze back toward him. "Of the hillside and the pond. The afternoon we met."

So he need not have been envious at all. Wonderful woman! Darcy felt an overpowering desire to kiss her, right there before her aunt and uncle. Must she insist on making such provocative remarks?

"I hope the reflections are pleasant ones, madam."

Her eyes met his in playful reproach. "You know very well they are, sir."

He cleared his throat and attempted to look away, but only found himself returning to her gaze. "I'm glad to hear it. They are pleasant reflections for me as well."

Elizabeth played absentmindedly with the lace on her glove, desiring to share at least some small part of her regard for him but unsure where or how to begin. "Mr. Darcy, I would not wish to part with you before thanking you again for your kindness and friendship. . ."

"You need not trouble yourself. . ."

"But I must. You cannot know the depth to which they have both meant to me, but nevertheless I must tell you that I will always think on our friendship with affection and the fondest of memories." She smiled up at him, though it looked almost as if she'd rather cry. Darcy set it down immediately to wishful thinking. "I am very grateful to you for choosing to befriend me rather than chase me off your property."

Darcy returned her smile. "The pleasure was all mine, Miss Bennet. I assure you that our friendship has been a source of great joy to me." He paused a moment, then added quietly, "more perhaps, than you may ever know."

She colored a little then, but met his eyes in understanding. Her voice was low when she replied. "Well, perhaps I do."

Darcy raked his hand through his hair, a habit of which he thought he had rid himself but occasionally came back when he felt keenly frustrated or disappointed. How close he had come to claiming her, and now she was leaving all the same, as if nothing had happened between them. He returned his eyes to hers, and in them he found a disappointment to match his own, as if she was sensible of his thoughts and knew there would be no further opportunity to make up for what had been left unsaid in the music room. She attempted to smile at him, but it was a rather weak smile, and longing to touch her again, Darcy ventured to take her hand in his.

"When will I see you again?" he dared to ask, unable to resist asking the question that had plagued him since he learned the date of her departure.

If she was surprised or offended at his forthrightness, she did not show it. "I wish I knew. When do you go into Town?"

"Not until December, at least. I am to travel with friends in the autumn."

"I will solicit an invitation to Gracechurch Street from my aunt and uncle- my sister Jane and I are likely to return to London with them after Christmas."

"It would be very agreeable to see you in Town this winter, Miss Bennet."

"Well, I'm sorry there is no sooner opportunity. But it cannot be helped, I suppose."

"Yes, unfortunate indeed." He remembered that her hand still rested in his, and anxious to avoid distressing the Gardiners, he pressed it gently and let in fall to her side. Smiling he said playfully, "I hope you shall write often to my sister, Miss Bennet. I shall depend upon hearing what witty things you have to say as a sort of antidote to my aunt's frequent recounts of her greatness."

Elizabeth laughed. "And what makes you think you shall be informed of the contents of my letters to your sweet sister, Mr. Darcy? A young girl's letters are always of the strictest secrecy."

Darcy directed a wicked smile at her. "Yes, but I do have my ways."

"Then you would force me to reveal my secret soul to you?"

"In an instant."

Elizabeth flushed a little at the direction their teasing conversation was taking them. "And what if you were to dislike its contents?"

His eyes lost their playful light and warmed with his regard for her. "I hope very much that should not be the case." He paused a moment, in which her hand suddenly found its way into his again. Elizabeth's cheeks felt as if they were radiating heat, and yet she could not tear her eyes from the sincerity of his gaze. If only she could stay! His voice was low and rich when he spoke next. "Miss Bennet, about what occurred between us in the music room. . ."

"Elizabeth, my dear!" Mrs. Gardiner's voice broke the rich confidence between them, and Elizabeth stepped reluctantly away from Darcy to face her aunt. "I'm afraid we have already stayed too long. We must leave at once if we are to reach London tomorrow."

Elizabeth's heart constricted. It was finally time to depart. The prolonged goodbyes, the promise of future meetings- they had only delayed the inevitable and could not hold it off forever. Now she was faced at last with the actual act of leaving him, but she forbade herself from dwelling on the disappointed heartache that was tearing away at her composure. It was ridiculous that she should be standing in Darcy's front drive, not two feet away from him, and missing him cruelly already.

"Yes, of course, aunt."

Mr. Gardiner came to shake the hand of his host for the last time, then handed his wife into the carriage and followed himself. Georgiana would have one more kiss goodbye from her dear, dear friend, and proclaimed that she would write faithfully until they could be once more in each other's company. Elizabeth pressed her friend's hands and affectionately promised the same, trying hard to preserve her smile and to keep her voice from shaking.

When Georgiana had released her, Darcy stepped forward and silently extended his hand for Elizabeth's. She gave it to him willingly, and without a word he bent and placed a lingering kiss upon it. Elizabeth swallowed the lump in her throat, and when he raised his eyes to meet hers, she smiled as sweetly as she could at him. He returned her smile sadly, and pressing her hand released it.

"Pleasant journey, Miss Bennet. Until we meet again."

She nodded silently, unwilling to trust her voice. When she found it, it seemed small and timorous to her own ears. "Fare you well, sir."

He looked for a moment as if he would say something more, but the impulse faded and he silently handed her into the carriage. When she was seated, he took the opportunity to place another kiss on her hand before releasing it. She smiled warmly at him, her eyes full of what she could not tell him with words. Indeed, there was nothing more to be said now.

The door was shut firmly, and soon the driver had urged the horses onward. Georgiana slipped her arm wordlessly through her brother's, and together, they watched as the carriage bearing Elizabeth and the Gardiners away disappeared into the Derbyshire countryside.

Here Ends Part the First

Correspondence, An Interlude

Posted on Sunday, 8 December 2002, at 2:48 a.m.

July 18, 18-

Pemberley House

Derbyshire

Dearest Elizabeth,

How sad I was to see you go last Thursday, and how anxiously I awaited the first opportunity afforded me to write to you! I hope that your journey was comfortable and that you encountered no unexpected misfortunes on your way to Hertfordshire, though I freely admit I should not have been distressed to see your carriage coming once more down Pemberley's drive in need of assistance, so long as you and your dear aunt and uncle were unharmed. How I shall miss you, dearest friend!

Here we continue to be quiet and comfortable, though perhaps entertaining my aunt sometimes proves to be a rather demanding task. She is determined to take me back to Rosings with her in August, though my dear brother still insists that I am to return to London on Tuesday. But I have learned some of your way of looking at such situations with a kind of secret amusement, and on more than one occasion have had to excuse myself whilst they discuss the matter for fear of making my amusement plain!

As I promised you, strengthening the bond between my cousin Anne and myself has been the primary aim of my days since your departure. Thus far it has proved an unexpected blessing, and I find that Cousin Anne and I have far more things in common than I ever would have guessed. We continue in the lessons at the pianoforte that you were so good as to suggest. This, of course, pleases my aunt a great deal, but we bear her praises with equanimity, and manage to stifle our laughter with tolerable success. Anne has asked me to tell you that she looks forward to the time when the three of us may be together again.

As for my brother, he is a perfect saint where my aunt is concerned and very patient with me! I need hardly tell you I think him to be truly the best of men. He has, perhaps, been rather silent and reflective since your departure, but often it takes only the mention of your name between us to rally his spirits. It seems you have made the Darcys your devoted admirers, dear Elizabeth!

I long to see you, and the winter cannot come soon enough. But I will bear it as best I can. Do write to me as soon and as often as you may manage it, for I shall be quite impatient and listless until I hear from you!

Yours affectionately,

G. Darcy

July 21, 18-

Longbourn

Hertfordshire

My Dear Georgiana,

If you insist upon always writing such gratifying letters, I'm sure I shall be forced to terminate our correspondence, else I should certainly develop a great deal of vanity indeed. But I was overjoyed to receive your letter so soon upon my arrival at home. I am very glad to hear that you and all your family are well and that you bear Lady Catherine's attentions with admirable grace. On the same token, I was happy, and rather amused, to learn that you are now able to find her entertaining as well. I have always been of the opinion that if one is to laugh at anybody, one ought to laugh at relations, as they are invariably the most entertaining of all! Your brother, I believe, is in ever great need of frequent teasing, and you, my dear Georgiana, are by far the best suited for the office. I would advise you to exercise your duty with great care and regularity.

Our journey home, I'm happy to say, went remarkably well, and we were fortunate enough to escape any unpleasantness along the way. My aunt and uncle Gardiner have since returned to London, and now life has returned to its usual rhythm. I am very glad to be amongst all my dear family again, though I think of you and your good brother often. I have told my eldest sister Jane all about my time in Derbyshire, and we are in complete agreement that you are the sweetest girl in the world. I hope that one day you shall have the opportunity to meet my dear sister, for I believe the two of you would become bosom friends in the length of an hour!

I am delighted that you and Miss de Bourgh have become friends and was excessively glad to hear you continue with the pianoforte lessons. Pray do correct all the faulty things I taught her, and tell her that I encourage her to become a musician after her dear cousin's heart. You must also tell Miss de Bourgh for me that I thank her for her kind compliments and return her wish that we might all meet again soon. Perhaps by then the three of us may play trios at the pianoforte, if Miss de Bourgh has not already surpassed my talents!

My thoughts are often full of Pemberley, of the great happiness I felt there. I truly think there is no lovelier place in all the world, and am sorry that you shall soon be obliged to leave it for the crowded, hurried London. But your education, naturally, comes first, and I would not have you think I belittle its importance. It is a pity, though, that a young girl's education cannot be conducted at Pemberley. I should think that one could learn volumes simply by sitting quietly on the hillside for an hour's time. Ah, well. We ladies, it seems, are not always destined to choose.

I anxiously await the arrival of your next letter. Until then, I remain, my dear friend, yours etc.,

E. Bennet

July 25, 18-

___ Street

London

Dear Elizabeth,

I arrived in Town on Thursday, accompanied by a great many hatboxes and trunks, and a brother who was determined to make a fastidious nuisance of himself! I do love Fitzwilliam dearly, but at times his behavior is strikingly similar to that of a mother hen.
He has escorted me to London that he might be assured of the presence of Mrs. Ainsley, my tutor and companion, at our house in ___ Street, and took the opportunity to make a great fuss over me, which was quite unnecessary. Before we quit Pemberley, he asked me literally six times if I had remembered to bring my books and the stationary given me to make notes upon. When he was unsatisfied with my answer, he had the largest trunk taken down from the carriage and thoroughly inspected in order to establish that the books and the stationary had indeed been included!

I could almost equate my dear brother's behavior with that of my aunt Lady Catherine, who advised me before I departed that I should make absolutely certain my maid was aware of the only correct way to place gowns in a trunk, of which she then instructed me. I never thought I should say it, but I will be supremely glad when Fitzwilliam returns to Pemberley to attend to my aunt!

But save these petty annoyances, I am quite well and growing in enthusiasm for the prospect of my stay in Town and for the lessons I am to dedicate myself to whilst I am here. It was rather a pity to leave Anne behind at Pemberley, but Lady Catherine has promised that perhaps they may join me at our Town house before the summer is gone, should Anne's health permit it.

Here I must conclude, for German grammar awaits, and it does not do so patiently. I hope you and your family are all well and that you will find a moment presently to write to your affectionate friend,

G.D.

July 30, 18-

Longbourn

Hertfordshire

Dearest Georgiana,

How I laughed at your diverting account of the journey to London! Having never seen the "motherly" side of your brother, but being well able to imagine it, I was excessively amused by your tale and the picture it presented in my mind. My sisters Mary and Kitty thought I had quite lost my wits when the post arrived as we were sitting together in the drawing room and I began to read your letter. I am still in the process of assuring them of my sanity.

That you have warmed to the idea of recommencing your education I am very glad. The benefits of education for a young girl are innumerable, and I truly think you could employ your time in no better way, however unfortunate it should be that it takes you from Pemberley. For myself, I have found that what learning I have become the master of, amassed in the country though it was, I have always had a practical use for, and I am exceedingly grateful for the chance to exercise my mind. Though perhaps I shall never be the great reader that my sister Mary is, I will always be glad for the ability to make perusal of a work with understanding and intelligence. But I begin to sound rather more like one's tutor than one's friend, and so I shall restrict my comments to the purely trivial!

Life in Hertfordshire continues to be much as it ever was, pleasant in its familiar rhythm and rather entertaining in the observance of the oddities of one's village neighbors, and indeed of one's own family. The weather has been very fine of late, and I have taken advantage of the favorable conditions by extending my daily walks about the countryside. It is a guilty pleasure of mine to sometimes break into a run or scamper down a hillside, but I am always very careful to remain unobserved! I find that the sunshine and the sweet summer air agree with me very much, and am always eager to be in them.

You will be pleased to know that I have attempted to reform myself where the pianoforte is concerned and have dedicated myself to daily practice for the past week. Let us hope that my resolve does not weaken, for I am sure I will succumb to the indulgence of other desires should my fervor to master the instrument wane. How fickle one soon becomes, no matter how noble the cause! But I will do my best, if only for the thought of pleasing you, my dear friend, which is as noble a cause as I know.

Yours in friendship,

E.B.

August 5, 18-

____ Street

London

My dear Friend,

Can it really be nearly a month since that lovely afternoon when we met at Pemberley? I'm sure it could not be half so long, and yet it seems as if we have been friends since childhood. What fun we should have had, playing together as small girls! I am sure you would have quite cured me of my horrid shyness with your teasing. Oh! How I long to see you!

Mrs. Ainsley insisted we go out calling today, and as a result I feel rather preoccupied with my discomfort in company at present. Our first few visits went tolerably well, as those we called on did most of the talking-- about themselves, naturally. But when we chanced to meet Miss Bingley, the sister of my brother's dearest friend, on our way home, to my dismay we were invited to tea. Perhaps you may not see why I should dread calling upon one so closely connected with my family, but it was not wholly without reason. Miss Bingley is not an ungracious lady, but she quite unnerves me with her familiarity and her determination that the two of us be "the very dearest of friends" as she calls it. I know very well she has set her cap at my brother, but I am willing to hope that she solicits my friendship for her own sake. Still, her great orange silken gowns and ostentatious finery have always frightened me a little, and I'm afraid I spent most of tea in an embarrassed silence while Miss Bingley raved on and on about my accomplishments.

I know that Darcys in general are not given much to conversation in large parties or among those with whom they are fairly unacquainted, but my shyness seems to extend beyond that. My brother is a quiet man, but he is not painfully shy in company as I am. I wish I were as you are, always willing to laugh with anyone and easy wherever you go. How you terrified me that first afternoon at tea! I thought you should think me insufferably dull- but I am excessively grateful that you are kind as well as good-humored.

My brother returned to Derbyshire last week, and though I told you before that I should be happy to be freed from his constant watch, I cannot help but feel a little lonely now that he is gone. You may imagine how desolate I am without you or him to keep me company. How I wish you might join me in ___ Street! But I must be content with your letters. Pray write to me soon!

G.D.

August 11, 18-

Longbourn

Hertfordshire

My Dear Georgiana,

Your last has touched me more than I can say, and I am honored that you hold me and our friendship so dear. As a beloved friend then, I hope you will believe me when I tell you that I fear you underestimate your own worth, and make an unjust comparison of your qualities with mine. It is true that I am perhaps of a livelier temperament than you are, but it does not follow that this characteristic in me is to be valued above its alternative. Indeed, we should all be very disgusted with our fellow men if everyone insisted on being merry all of the time. I am certain that there are many circumstances in which your quiet ways and graceful manners would be far superior to my own habit of talking animatedly and always finding something to be laughed at. Naturally, I try always to know when to be merry and when to be somber, but I shall only know for certain, I suppose, when I am a very old woman with grey hair and no teeth, full of wisdom from my vast experience. You must come and visit me then, Georgiana, and hold spoonfuls of broth to my lips while we exchange stories of our youth!

These August days have been warm and fair, and I find that the slow, steady rhythm of summer in the country suits me for the majority of the time. But every so often, in a moment when I am alone and still in my solitude, I wish very much that I could join you in London, where I might enjoy the pleasure of your society and take a delight in the multitude of things to occupy one's self with in Town. I am willing to think, however, that perhaps things are as they stand for the best, and that I shall see you sooner than I expect, thought the waiting has seemed an age. And I suppose I should not be content in Town for long, for unlike you, my dear friend, I have not been brought up to it, and I invariably find that after more than a fortnight in London I find myself longing for Hertfordshire again.

I was sorry to hear that you find your good brother's absence so hard to bear. I can see how you might be lonely with only your tutor for company, and again I find myself wishing that I might join you in ___ Street. Does Mr. Darcy write often? If he does not, you must send him a letter immediately, telling him that he must reform himself as a correspondent at all costs. He cannot be so preoccupied with appeasing Lady Catherine that he hasn't a moment to share his vexations with his dear sister! But perhaps I underestimate the demands of your aunt, or the patience of your brother. . .

My mother calls and I must attend her, but I hope I may expect a letter from you soon. Until then, I remain, yours most affectionately,

E.B.

August 17, 18-

___ Street

London

Dearest Elizabeth,

Wonderful news! I need not write to my brother begging for his letters, for he has come to Town in person! You may well imagine my surprise and delight when he arrived in ___ Street two days ago, intending to stay a fortnight. He tells me that my aunt and my dear cousin Anne returned to Kent on Wednesday last, and that as soon as he could manage it he made the journey to Town in order to join me until he leaves for the country next month. He knows not yet where the party intends to travel, for the task of determining that falls to his friend, Mr. Bingley, of whom I told you in my previous letter. It is unfortunate, perhaps, that Miss Bingley is to go with them, but I am convinced that my brother's heart is quite safe from her schemes.

Naturally, I am excessively happy to have him whilst I can, and am determined to never let him leave my sight during his stay! Mrs. Ainsley, with Fitzwilliam's permission, has granted me a respite from my studies that I might enjoy his company fully before he is to leave Town. We have been very happy these last few days- talking, laughing, walking out, with none but ourselves to please. Our conversations turn to talk of you very often, and I hope you will not mind if I have shared some of your words from your letters with him. My brother has expressed how pleased he is that you and I continue to remain connected, and hopes with myself that we shall see you as soon as may be. I sincerely wish I could invite you to ___ Street, but it would not, perhaps, be in keeping with propriety whilst my brother is here, and once he is gone, I shall be obliged to return to my studies and would be unable to entertain a guest. It is unfortunate, but it cannot be helped. Nevertheless, I am determined to see you before the winter!

I have enclosed, as no doubt you have seen, a bit of embroidery with which I have spent my afternoons since you took your leave from us at Derbyshire, and now I present to you the finished product. I doubt you have need of another handkerchief, but please accept this one as a token of my friendship and regard. It occurred to me that perhaps you might like something to remind you of Pemberley, and, I hope, of your devoted friend,

G.D.

August 20, 18-

Longbourn

Hertfordshire

Dear Georgiana,

How glad I am that you may once again enjoy the company of your dear brother, and that he is freed from the demands of your remarkable aunt Lady Catherine! I'm sure he is equally delighted to stay with you, and hopes that the days before his departure for the country do not fly by as precious days sometimes do. It seemed to me that my time at Pemberley was but an hour, though I assure you, my dear friend, it was one of the loveliest hours I have ever passed.

Your embroidery is charming, and no matter how great a multitude of handkerchiefs I have already, I will set aside this one as an affectionate reminder of your friendship and your beautiful home in the country where we all spent such happy days. You are quite right, it does not seem a full month since we met, and I wonder where the time has gone! But perhaps we may look upon the phenomenon with a friendly eye, for if we may pass a month so quickly, think how truly soon it will be when we meet again!

It is unfortunate that we find it difficult to arrange a reunion before the winter, but as you say, it cannot be helped, though I long to see you and indeed your good, generous brother who was so kind and hospitable to us in Derbyshire. But what delights should you and I encounter were we together in Town! My skills at the pianoforte have expanded notably since last you heard them, and I'm sure we should be the most sought after musicians in all the drawing rooms of London. Think of what fun we should have walking through the parks, attending concerts and lectures, reading poetry together (the great and the very ridiculous), and buying thread with which to embroider tokens for each other! And I should help you face the formidable Miss Bingley, and we would put her most soundly in her place over crumpets and tea. Ah well. I suppose we shall have to settle for dreaming of such delights instead of living them, but we might as well make the dream as lovely as may be!

I have included a work of my own embroidery, not as skillful or aesthetic as yours, but I hope it will serve the purpose of reminding you of your affectionate friend,

E.B.

P.S. Please extend a cordial greeting to your brother for me, and thank him again on my behalf for his generosity to us at Pemberley. It will not be soon forgotten.

August 25, 18-

___ Street

London

Dearest Elizabeth,

I thought that your description of how the two of us should be were we granted the pleasure of being together in Town was excessively diverting, and no doubt not far from the truth! Your words brought to mind visions of what fun we should have and how much we should laugh, and the reflections filled me with delight simply for thinking of them. I would most certainly welcome your help in fending off Miss Bingley, though I doubt she would like either one of us much after we had tried!

I must inform you that I am not the only one who finds pleasure in your correspondence. My brother has taken to lingering in my company whenever a letter from you arrives, and sometimes even has the audacity to make a perusal of its contents over my shoulder. Fitzwilliam is always sure to be the first to handle the post when it comes. He thinks I do not notice these things, but he really is pathetically obvious. It is unfortunate perhaps, that a man and woman who are great friends may not correspond with each other as we may, but I suppose it is just as well that you refrain from writing anything too private in your letters to me whilst Fitzwilliam is here.

Mr. Bingley, my brother's dear friend, has been much at our house of late, spending many afternoons with us and often staying for dinner (I secretly rejoice that he does not choose to bring his sister with him!). He and Fitzwilliam often talk about their travels, which are to begin as soon as may be once September is upon us. I find it a tiresome, disheartening subject and try to encourage them to discuss things in which I might have more of a part. I am very fond of Mr. Bingley, for he is of a light, cheerful disposition and has always been very warm and friendly towards me. He balances my more reserved brother quite well I think, and I am tremendously glad they are friends. Dear Mr. Bingley is always willing, and indeed eager to laugh, and never fails to make me smile. Yes, to be sure, I like him very much.

The days until my brother's departure seem to slip away quietly and in great haste, but I bear the thought of losing his company as best I can. He is very good, and very affectionate to me, and I grow more certain every day that he is the ideal elder brother, and consequently the best of men. How heavily I shall depend upon your letters when he is gone!

Yours in all the fondness of friendship,

G.D.

P.S. Thank you for the lovely embroidered handkerchief. I had truly meant to treasure it, but in my carelessness it has been misplaced. The last I saw it, my brother was looking it over just after I had received your letter by the post yesterday. Perhaps he shall know where I might find it. . .

August 30, 18-

Longbourn

Hertfordshire

My Dear Georgiana,

You, my sweet friend, are a very sly creature, and though I do not pretend to be ignorant of the ideas behind your implications, I am quite unable to fathom how they ever came into your head to begin with! Teasing girl! I blush at the very thought of the things you suggest!

But we must avenge ourselves on your brother. The shared written confidence of two young ladies is never meant for male eyes, and his presumption deserves immediate punishment! Here is what we shall do. You must leave my letters out in the open where he might easily pick them up and study them, or you might even offer him freely the opportunity to make perusal of my letters, that he might learn from "the elegance of my style and the neatness of my hand". I will be sure to include very pompous, ridiculous things in such letters, and carefully hint at imaginary flaws in his character in order to torment him! Perhaps this lesson shall teach him to avoid violating the sacred secrecy of feminine correspondence! As for the handkerchief, I shall embroider another for you.

Mr. Bingley sounds a delightful young man, and were I cruel I should make very certain to tease you about your enthusiastic approval of him as you tease me about your brother and his peculiar behavior. But I will refrain, knowing that some temptations must be borne and not indulged. It seems to me that a person of Mr. Bingley's temperament would well compliment one of your brother's, and it does not surprise me that they are great friends.

You must tell Mr. Darcy for me that I hope his journey to the country in September is a pleasant one, but that I insist he pay his dear, sweet sister a great deal of special, undivided attention before he goes away. You, dear Georgiana, may be assured of my letters to keep you company in the autumn whilst he is gone, and without the threat of a second reader, I shall be sure to tell you a great many secrets indeed!

Longbourn and the rest of Meryton still move sleepily through these remaining summer days, but the coming autumn stirs every so often in order to remind us of its imminence. The estate nearest my father's, a great house called Netherfield, with far more land attached to it than is to Longbourn, is to be let by the owner, and our little community is buzzing with ideas of who might be expected to take it. My mother is determined it should be a handsome young man of some four of five thousand a year, and should he indeed be so, she is certain to lay public claim to him for a son-in-law. Heaven save me and all my poor sisters! To begin married life but three miles from the prattling and chatter of one's mother, and watch helplessly as connubial bliss soon turned to filial despair!

I hope that you continue to remain in the best of health and that the days til I see you again will speed past us before we remember where they have gone. For how much sweeter is life when one is blessed with the dear presence of a beloved friend!

Yours,

E.B.